Cliff's Edge (13 page)

“You checked the storerooms?” Cliff asked, maintaining his all-business expression.

“Not yet. I haven’t been upstairs either. How do you want to handle it?”

Cliff stared down the hall, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Four rooms. You take left, I’ll take right—let’s clear them, then the office.” He drew his SIG and screwed on the suppressor. Ryan did likewise.

“How certain are you the detective isn’t already in here? I’d hate to shoot him accidentally.”

Ryan shrugged. “He could have done the same splicing I did to hide his arrival, but since it would raise questions about tampering with evidence, my gut says we’re alone. Besides, the place felt…empty. Can’t be positive unless we clear every room. My guess is he’s watching from outside.”

On a silent nod, both men serious now that weapons were drawn, they moved in tandem down the short hallway. It took less than five minutes to verify three of the rooms were empty, and the fourth contained stacks of white cardboard bankers boxes, each labelled with a year—presumably the date of the records within.

“Why would they leave these boxes? Isn’t this evidence of some sort?” Ryan whispered.

“The crime scene is Draco’s office, so even though they would have checked every room in the building, it’s not likely they could take anything not directly related to the shooting. I suppose they’ll dig further into the club background if the investigation wears on?”

“I guess,” Ryan said. “Man, we’ve got a lot to learn if we’re going to be PIs once we retire…”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhino. You’ve got a job to finish,” Cliff said, although a smile played about his lips at the reference to one of many post-Navy careers they’d discussed over the years. Private investigator usually came up after a few too many brews while binge-watching
NCIS
.

Cliff checked his watch. “Let’s look at the office, then…you said there’s an elevator in there?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can hit the third floor quick and be back downstairs before your detective arrives. Since Draco gave you free run of the place we’ll have plenty of time to look around after he officially turns the keys over. Speaking of which…why’d you blow the door?”

“I was in a hurry. Besides, I didn’t blow it—much. Just took out the locking mechanism. It’s repairable. Come on, let’s hurry.”

Moving quickly, they closed the door behind themselves, then using hand signals, they counted down before bursting into the office, weapons at the ready.

Blood still stained the floor, although someone had cleaned up the biohazards. Draco would no doubt be getting a bill from the local crime scene decontamination contractors. From the angle of the stain, Ryan could visualize where the bartender had fallen, just inside the door. Circumventing the dark mark on the cheap carpet, he stepped farther into the room, aware of Cliff’s presence behind him.

As before, Ryan went left and Cliff right until they cleared the space. When he got to the partially open bookcase, Ryan ducked behind it and stood looking at the bed for a long moment. An ugly heat burned low in his belly when he thought of Cliff lying here, cuffed to Draco’s headboard. Pressing his lips tight together to keep from saying anything stupid like—
from now on my bed is the only one you’ll be cuffed to
—he flipped on the light switch then crossed to where the elevator doors were partially concealed behind a trifold screen. He pushed the button and they slid open noiselessly.

“I didn’t even know that was there,” Cliff said quietly from the entry.

Ryan turned and walked back to the main part of the office, needing to be away from the bed and the unwelcome images of a bound and submissive Cliff.

“Ryan? Tell me again why you’re here?”

Meeting his friend’s light steel-gray eyes, Ryan waited a beat before he answered. Cliff’s once dark hair was definitely more salt and pepper now, and longer than he usually wore it. He’d been up and getting ready for a run early this morning, with no time for a shave, so his jaw was scruffy and begged for Ryan to touch it, to feel the bristle beneath his palms. The loose-fitting windbreaker did little to disguise the solid build of the man, even under his body armor. Everything about Cliff was just…right.

Why hadn’t he realized this sooner? His heart seemed ready to gallop away, the beat of his pulse sounding loud in his ears. Moistening his lips, Ryan stalled for time, forgetting for a moment what the question was.

“You’re still active duty, Ry…and with your new orders…this really is a situation you shouldn’t be involved in. I appreciate you going through the building with me, but seriously, you need to go before Wagner gets here and officially makes you part of the case. This is something I can handle alone.”

Ryan blinked once, then the truest words he’d ever spoken seemed to tumble out of his mouth. “You’re never going to be alone as long as I’m alive.”

*

Cliff stared at Ryan, trying to make sense of the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. It was the second time he’d said something to shock Cliff since he’d arrived…twenty minutes ago? Before he could ask for clarification, the quiet vibration of his phone against his hip drew his attention. Since he’d had to replace his SEAL issue special communications equipment during his retirement processing, the list of people who had the number could be counted on one hand—Detective Kam Wagner being the first one who came to mind. Cursing the interruption, he snatched the phone and checked the caller ID. Shit. He had to take the call.

He glared at Ryan. “We’re not finished with this. You hold that fucking thought,” he growled out. “Snyder,” he snapped into the phone.

“You’ve got two coming in through the front with automatic weapons. Jesus-fucking-Christ. Go into the private elevator in Draco’s office and lock it down between floors. Shit, Snyder. I’m coming in behind them but reinforcements are three minutes out—”

“Wait outside for backup, Wagner. You’re outgunned and I’m safe…you hear me? Fucking wait outside.” Cliff punched the end button and dropped the phone in his windbreaker pocket, already heading for the door. “We’ve got two targets, carrying automatic weapons of unknown type. Coming in through the front door. Not sure how much time we’ve got. I’m going to hold them until backup arrives. As soon as I have them pinned, you get clear. No vest, no target practice. Non-fucking-negotiable, Rhino—disappear.”

Any response was lost in the sound of the front door glass shattering under a sudden burst of automatic fire that announced the arrival of the would-be attackers. Apparently no time at all was how much they had.

Cliff dove through the doorway, counting on the fact the sound of his movement would be masked because the assholes would have ruined their hearing when they fired. Rolling away from the office door, he came to a stop at the top of the landing and risked a quick look over the stairs. Two men dressed in stocking caps, cammie pants, and black T-shirts held AK47s waist high as they scanned the room. Ducking out of sight of the men below, Cliff used hand signals to indicate there were two men, two weapons. He didn’t bother to turn to see if Ryan was behind him—the signals were standard ops, and Ryan would stick around until he knew Cliff had the situation controlled.

With help on the way, it would be preferable to avoid using his weapon. He was concealed carry permitted in California, but he’d prefer to avoid drawing further scrutiny from the SDPD. He also needed to keep the assholes downstairs to make things easier for the locals. The thoughts flashed through his mind even as his body was putting his plan into action.

Switching the SIG to his left hand, he reached into his vest and removed a flashbang with his right. He risked another look and saw both men’s heads turn toward the opening where a glass door and privacy vestibule had once stood.

Kam Wagner ran toward the doorway, his badge in one hand, his service revolver in the other. His mouth moved, clearly shouting but the words were indistinguishable. The fool hadn’t heeded Cliff’s advice to wait outside. He intended to stage a one-man rescue.

As if in slow motion, the two men raised their weapons and started to turn. Kam was unprotected—a clear shot through the open doorway. Cliff pulled the pin on the stun grenade with his teeth, then memorizing the position of the two men relative to the rest of the room, he closed his eyes and tossed the device ten feet behind them. The blast was deafening, but before the flash even burned out, Cliff was up and firing his weapon, registering the second set of gunshots coming from his left.

“Target acquired,” Ryan said quietly when they stopped firing.

Cliff never hesitated. He turned to Ryan. “Give me your gun,” he ordered, snatching it from Ryan’s hand. He pointed it to the mess downstairs and fired it once, making sure there wouldn’t be any doubts he’d fired both weapons. “Get out of here now, Ry. There’s nothing to show you were here. Go to McP’s,” he said, referring to the SEAL hang out in Coronado. There would be plenty of willing witnesses to Rhino’s presence.

Ryan stared at him, his large hazel eyes looking nearly brown in the gloom of the hallway. His lips parted, but Cliff couldn’t let him speak. Not right now.

Sirens could be heard, echoing off the buildings, there would only be seconds left.

“Ry, if you care about me even a little, then do this for me. Please? I’ll be okay, everything here is justifiable—and it’s going to take days to clear up. You can’t afford to be involved right now. Get out before anyone sees you. There’s a way off the roof and you know it…” He reached for Ryan’s face, but dropped his hand before touching him. “Please,” he repeated softly.

Nodding once, Ryan pressed a quick kiss to Cliff’s mouth. “Meet me at SEAL Beach next Tuesday. Zero-five-hundred. I’ll be waiting.” Then he turned and ran through the door to the office.

Underneath the wail of sirens, tires screeched on the pavement, and dozens of car doors open, voices shouted. Cliff stayed put, not wanting to draw friendly fire from a wannabe hero. Finally someone seemed to be in charge, as he heard the distinctive click of an amplified bullhorn.

“Police—you’re surrounded. Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

Cliff stared at the papers spread on the dining room table and tried to work up some enthusiasm for creating a pros and cons list on his yellow legal pad. Stifling a yawn, he ignored the pen and reached for his coffee instead. Considering how late he’d arrived the night before, he deserved to have at least two cups of coffee before he started the intimidating task of deciding what to do with the rest of his life.

A quick tap on the door was all the warning he got before it swung open.

“Mind if we come in?” Ty asked, stepping through the doorway without actually waiting for an answer. Cass followed close on his heels, a bronze-toned travel mug in his hands.

“Hey, Cliff, welcome back,” Cass said. “I wasn’t sure we’d be seeing you again so soon. Glad you could get away.”

The two men joined him at the small table. Cass leaned forward and picked up a map of downtown San Diego. Ty glanced at it, then turned his bright blue gaze on Cliff.

“You look like shit, jarhead.”

“You look fat and happy, squid.”

They grinned at each other, but Cass shook his head. “I didn’t think Marines could be in the SEALs.”

“They can’t,” Ty and Cliff said together.

Ty leaned back and took up the tale. “Cliff joined the Corps first, then had to get out when he discovered exactly that.”

“Ty never lets me forget it.”

“Hell, man, you never forget it. I see you went back to the high and tight,” Ty teased, referring to his recent haircut.

“Not exactly.” He rubbed a hand over his brush cut and was hit with a sudden memory of Ryan’s fingers twisted into his hair… “I didn’t go as short as usual. And to be honest, I don’t actually know what else to ask for at the barber shop,” he admitted.

Cass pressed open the map and peered at the scale illustration of downtown San Diego. His finger traced the path from Petco Park to the building that housed Hard Labour, then over the water to the base.

“San Diego’s a great city. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“Hah…” Cliff pushed back his chair before standing and walking to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. He held the carafe in the air. “Anyone else?”

Receiving two head shakes, he returned the pot to the maker then leaned his hips on the counter and blew out a breath. “That’s the question of the day…isn’t it? I don’t suppose Whit’s job is still available?” he said, half-joking. “Not that I know anything about horses, not like he did—but I can learn. And god knows I can shovel shit…”

Ty’s palm landed on the table with a slap, but Cass merely covered his lover’s hand and gave a squeeze.

“Huh…well, I admit, you are pretty good at that. But, most of my hands have a bit more experience in ranch life beyond mucking stalls.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cliff, because if you need a job or a place to stay—then this is it. We told you when you called yesterday that you’re always welcome here, and we meant it. I just always pictured you as more of a beach person. Lord knows we have all the sand you could ever want for running, but don’t you swim just about every day? We don’t even have a pool for laps.”

“Triathlons,” Ty fake-coughed.

As a lifelong resident of San Diego—except for the short periods when he’d been stationed elsewhere, there were certain things he’d miss about the Southern California community if he left. But there were complications now, particularly given what happened at Hard Labour and his forced retirement.

“I thought about settling in San Diego, sure. To be honest, I have no real ties there. My family’s in Santa Barbara, and we’re not close. I sold my house before my last deployment, because I’d planned to buy a condo when I returned. Now I’m in an apartment complex and with all the twenty-somethings running around half-dressed—not that I mind looking—but damn, it makes me feel older by the day.

“I’m not rich, but I’m not strapped for cash either. Obviously I don’t have a job—not even any real industry that I’m tied to. Basically, this is a time in my life for me to make big changes without disrupting anything.”