Deadly Pursuit (SCVC Taskforce) (15 page)

He’d put a lizard in her bed when they were kids. Living in Miami in a little white house four blocks from the Kmart store, they often found green anoles in their bathroom, on palm trees outside, and even in their pantry. That night, a light ocean breeze and a ceiling fan cooled Celina’s room. It was late, and she was tired from a day spent selling her mother’s flowers at the street corner. She’d been upset because one of the neighborhood bullies had taken her leftover gladiolas and stomped them into spots on the sidewalk.

She’d walked all the way back home without crying, sat through dinner with her parents and her brothers without telling anyone what had happened. But as she’d buried her face deep into the pillows on her bed later that night, she let the tears flow. Before her crying jag was over, she felt something cool and sticky crawl across her back. It wasn’t the first time one of her four older brothers had stuck something alive in her bed, but that night, a dragon unfurled his tail in her stomach and breathed heat into her until all she felt was red-hot anger.

Luke, a year older, saw the look on her face when she entered the living room and started to run. She tackled him amidst her mother’s shouts before he made the back door, and they both went skidding into the sandy yard. Celina hit and kicked him before her father pulled her off, and even though she got as much as she gave, including a black eye, she felt better afterward. Vindicated.

Celina and her brother both learned an important lesson. Blood relation or complete stranger, bullies would not be tolerated in her corner of Miami.

As sleep teased at her, Celina closed her eyes and let her hand stay on the tiny marching threads. Let her mind stay in the little white house in Miami. Sleep was exactly what she needed, not just to forget the awful day, but to prepare for the coming ones.

Chapter Thirteen

The sun was already setting. Cooper glanced at his watch and took into account the time difference between California and Iowa. “Just in time for the six-o’clock news and a full-blown story at ten,” he said to Thomas, pulling into the driveway of the safe house. “By tomorrow morning, the major networks will have picked it up and it will go national. Everyone will know The New Face of the FBI is back in Carlsbad.”

“You’re taking Celina back to California and you want it on the news?” Thomas’s face showed utter confusion and dislike of Cooper’s plan. “Dupé’s going to shit monkeys.”

Cooper didn’t know who was more tired, him or Thomas. They were both strung out. Cooper had caught some zzz’s on Dupé’s Cessna—nice of him to share the FBI’s wealth since commercial flights were murder—but he was still aware of the lead weight hanging on him. Whether from sleep deprivation or the grim reality of Emilio’s plan, Cooper wasn’t sure.

“Celina’s idea, actually. Dupé’s okay with it since the media’s already been tipped off. Along with the story about her, the FBI’s putting out the national manhunt story on Emilio. He wanted publicity, he’s got it. We’re not running from this. The more publicity we generate about him, the more likely we are to catch him.”

The neighborhood was relatively quiet, but a few stay-at-homes and work-at-homes were filtering out to see what was going on. A couple local uniforms had barricaded the cul-du-sac with their cars. As Cooper scanned the area, he saw the first white van drive up with a satellite dish on its roof. According to Celina, there would be at least three more to follow. So far, her plan was working.

Thomas glanced up at the house’s second-story windows. “Forester’s going to kill you for exposing the safe house.”

Cooper watched another van arrive. The first reporters harassed the cops to let them in closer. “Lana’s called Dominic Quarters and informed him what’s going down. Once we get Celina in the car, Quarters, Forester, or whoever, will hold a press conference on the front steps and read the info Lana gave them. Everything else will fall into place. Dupé will deal with Forester if he’s gotta problem with it. Our job is Celina.”

The last words caused Thomas to turn to him, his tired eyes narrowing slightly. “When Forester kills you, am I in charge of taking Celina back?”

“Worst-case scenario—Forester kills me—then, yes, the responsibility falls to you. But come on, Forester kill me? Never happen.”

Thomas looked at him as if he thought Cooper’s confidence was misplaced. Cooper shrugged. “If he kills me, shoot him. In the balls. Twice.”

“You got it, boss.” Thomas’s fist came up and Cooper banged his own in agreement.

Cooper shut off the SUV and climbed out, watching as two more local news agencies pulled up short at the barricades. He tugged his hat down on his head and adjusted his sunglasses. Thomas came around the front of the car and Cooper motioned at his jacket. “Show time, Agent Hawkins. Get your badge out where the cameras can see it, but keep your head turned away from them.”

Thomas fished through various pockets and hung his DEA badge on his belt. “Forget Forester, Celina’s going to kill you for the way you left her yesterday.”

He’d be so glad to see her alive and unharmed, he’d probably make a fool out of himself and throw his arms around her. He’d been an idiot to doubt her, to leave her on her own. “She’s a professional. She’ll save it until we get her back to California.”
I hope
.

They took the sidewalk to the front door, treading carefully over patches of ice that hadn’t been cleared. Thomas rubbed his hands together, blew on them. “I’ll lay odds she gets in at least one good blow before you get her out the door.”

Cooper considered this as he took the front steps. “You’re on.”

He raised his hand to use the doorknocker, prepared for the blow Thomas was sure he was going to take and found himself face to face with Eugene Forester. “What the hell are you doing, Harris?”

Celina sat at the dining room table, halfway through a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast, and watched as Chief Forester blocked Cooper’s entry. She listened to Cooper’s voice, smooth and low but demanding, and felt her pulse quicken.

I’m safe now.

So glad to hear his voice, to know he was there, she wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him.

That wouldn’t do, of course. But what
was
the right thing to do? Pretend she wasn’t happy to see him? Act like their night together was already forgotten? Give him the cold shoulder? Setting down her fork, she pushed back the plate and rose to get her bags from the bedroom. She had more important things to worry about than how to greet him.

Cooper and Thomas pushed inside just as she was going down the hallway. “Hi, Celina,” Thomas greeted her.

“Hey,” she replied, her gaze on Cooper. He was hours past needing a shave, the stubble on his face giving him a slightly sinister look. Combined with his mirrored sunglasses and the frown on his face, his appearance was the Terminator Revisited.

Celina tried to tap down the relief at seeing him. Tried to call up her professional, unemotional FBI face. “Thanks for coming to escort me back.”

Lame. So lame.

Cooper gave her a tight nod. “Get your things.” No
hello
. No,
I’m sorry about Ronni and the others
. “We need to get moving.”

Business as usual. Okay, she could do that.

“Somebody going to tell me what exactly’s going on here?” Forester said, standing between Cooper and Celina.

“Part of my plan.” Celina turned away, repeating in her head:
Stay professional.
She left them to get her bag and camera from the bedroom.

When she came back, Forester was on his cell phone yelling at someone—sounded like Dominic Quarters—and waving a piece of paper in the air. Mary was on hers speaking in undertones. Cooper and Thomas stood sentry by the door, hands centered in front of them, quietly waiting for her.

Thomas took her bags. Cooper handed over her coat. “Media’s outside. Be sure they get a clear shot of your face.”

Celina drew in a breath, braced herself. “I want to give the announcement about the manhunt.”

“That’s Forester’s job. We want Emilio to see you, but I’m not letting you stand there in front of God and country and give Emilio a clear target.”

Celina looked up into Cooper’s eyes and the mirrored sunglasses showed her nothing but her own image. Tired and anxious. “You know he won’t do it that way. He wants his revenge to be slow and painful. He’s a psychological bully and he won’t use a gun on me. Too easy. Too quick.”

A nerve in Cooper’s jaw jumped. He took her elbow but didn’t say anything as he steered her toward the entrance.

“Don’t you walk out of here,” Forester yelled from the living room, cell phone stilled glued to his ear.

“Go.” Cooper guided Celina through the door. As they hit the bottom step and started toward the driveway, they were met with a barrage of questions and camera flashes—the reporters had broken through the cop barrier and were flowing toward them en masse. Forester, two steps behind Cooper, drew a sharp breath as he saw the crowd advancing like a wave. “You SOB,” he said to Cooper’s back.

But Cooper wasn’t listening. He moved Celina from the steps to the driveway, shoving her into the back of a black Durango, the same SUV he’d driven before. Thomas threw himself into the backseat next to Celina as Cooper started the SUV’s engine. As the reporters close the distance around the lawn, they continued to yell questions at them.

Cooper shifted the vehicle into gear and Celina braced. Just as he stepped on the gas, the passenger door flew open and Forester jumped in. He was breathing hard, but Celina wasn’t sure if it was from trying to catch up with them or from anger.

“Director Dupé will explain everything,” Cooper told him. “Now please get out and make the manhunt announcement as planned.”

Celina was proud of his sincere, respectful tone. He had to be as exhausted as she was and Forester’s constant goading and yelling was enough to make anyone lose their cool. But not Cooper.

“The hell I’ll get out.” Forester faced Celina in the back seat. “She’s my agent and I am now her personal bodyguard. Where she goes, I go.”

Reporters pressed around the Durango. “She’s going to L.A.” Cooper said, gripping the steering wheel tight, Celina knew, so he didn’t do something stupid, like shove Forester out on his butt. “And I’m her new bodyguard.”

Forester motioned at the street. “Then let’s go to L.A. I’ve never been there. Heard it’s full of assholes like you.”

Someone banged a fist on the SUV’s backend. Another leaned across the windshield with a microphone. Clamping his jaw, Cooper glanced at Celina in the rearview mirror.

She shrugged. Forester was nothing less than a bulldog. If she’d learned anything in the past six months, it was the pointlessness of fighting with him once he sunk his teeth into something.

Cooper took a deep breath, and shoved his foot down on the gas pedal. Everyone’s head inside snapped back and the crowd jumped out of the way. He maneuvered around an on-looker. “Did you give them your face?” he said to Celina.

As they cleared the entrance to the neighborhood, she met his eyes in the mirror. “Did my best
Vogue
impression in the whole micro-second you let me woo the cameras.”

“Score.” Thomas snickered. “You owe me.”

Celina lifted a questioning eyebrow.

“I don’t owe you squat.” Cooper took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You said
before
I got her out the door.”

“I don’t even want to know what you two bet on.” She slid down in the seat. “The first part of the trap is set. Now we see if Emilio takes the bait.”

Forester switched his gaze back and forth between Cooper and Celina. “You really think Londano is watching this charade?”

They both answered in unison. “Yes.”

Chapter Fourteen

The man watched the black Durango drive out of the gated community property before shifting his eyes to a male FBI agent on the front steps reading from a piece of paper. As the Fed started another sentence, the man scanned the crowd gathering around the speaker, closed his cell phone and walked around to the back of the house.

Anger brewed deep in his gut. He’d seen her this time, the face he knew as well as his own. The face America knew. The face he was soon going to cut into tiny pieces.

The house was rigged with alarms and cameras that had been installed because of men like him. He lowered his ball cap a notch and entered on cat feet.

The female agent inside looked like a normal American woman in her baggy sweatshirt and pants. She was standing in the living room, her back to him as she looked out the window next to the stone fireplace at the group gathered by the front door. She was talking on a cell phone, her ponytail bobbing with impatience as she shook her head and rubbed a hand behind her neck.

He listened for a minute, scratching the carefully shaved stubble on his chin as he heard her succinctly describe the scene that had just taken place inside the safe house. As she hung up, he moved in behind her, keenly aware of her size and strength and also of the hundreds of eyes just outside the window.

Blue Sweats tried to yell, but his forearm cut off her air before she could make more than a squeak. Strong legs resisted his weight and she tried to jackknife her body to flip him. They tussled for a second, his extra fifty pounds of muscle, and the fact she couldn’t draw air, aiding him.