Taken by the Con. C.J. MillerЧитать онлайн книгу.
went wrong and Clifton Anderson was picked up by another agency? Would the FBI return him to jail? He could lose his chance of a reunion with his son.
Lucia called after him and he ignored her. Embarrassed about his behavior and unwilling to explain it, he stuck his hands in his pockets and kept his head down. He didn’t want to risk being recognized again by anyone from his former life. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted to disappear, but with the GPS tracker monitoring him, he couldn’t do that. He was trapped in the confines of the city under the careful watch of the FBI. It was hard to feel truly free. He was still imprisoned, just in a different way.
The pounding of footsteps and Lucia calling his name had him glancing over his shoulder. The persistent woman didn’t know when to give up. She caught up to him, out of breath. Strands of her brown hair had broken free of the ponytail she had it tied in. He had the urge to pull the elastic from it and let it loose around her face. He kept his hands pressed to his sides.
“I need space,” he said, feeling a combination of weak and whiny. He hated weak and whiny.
Concern touched her face. “Tell me what that was about because normal people don’t jump out of a car,” she said.
“I didn’t jump out of the car. I stepped out,” Cash said.
“Going from being locked in a cell to walking around on the street is a big change. But it’s a good change.”
He realized she knew where his thoughts had gone. He added intuitive and considerate to his list of her good attributes. He’d liked Lucia from day one, even if she was strung a little tight, but the more time he spent with her the more he saw her best qualities were buried beneath her icy facade. “I’m not free and not much has changed. I’m monitored around the clock. I live in a dump. I eat crappy food.” Benjamin had made it clear he wanted to know if Cash was in touch with anyone from his past. Cash half expected him to demand Cash keep a log of everyone he spoke to.
“Living in a motel isn’t ideal and I know your budget is tight.” She pressed her lips together. She was uncomfortable talking about money.
Was it because she had financial problems, too? The place where she lived was at least three thousand square feet and she had a number of decorative items he’d price high on the open market. She was either living above her means, on the take or the FBI was paying better than he’d thought.
“I’m grateful to Benjamin for what he did for me.” Even if the other man had a lot to gain by capturing Clifton Anderson, like a huge promotion and a raise, he’d put himself out to help Cash.
“You don’t sound ungrateful, but you sound like you’re coming unhinged. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you while we’re together,” Lucia said.
That’s what he needed to dissolve the anxiety, someone else watching him. “I have the tracker. You don’t have to worry about me skipping town.”
“I’m not worried about you skipping town. At the moment, I’m just worried about you.”
Compassion and an olive branch. Cash hadn’t realized how isolated he’d felt until she spoke the words. He had the urge to reach back, to connect with someone in a real way. Not to manipulate her or get on her good side for any other reason than needing a friend. “I can’t go back there.”
Empathy touched the corners of her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “We’ll get this guy, and as long as you keep your head down and work hard, prison stays off the table. Now, please come back to the car. We’ll head to the office and sit on the rooftop and review our case notes, okay? And then you have the team’s happy hour.”
“Aren’t you going?” he asked.
“I have paperwork to finish up,” she said.
He let her lead him to the car. Lucia was looking left and right.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, sensing her unease.
“I have the strangest feeling we’re being watched.”
Not one to ignore instincts, Cash looked around. He didn’t notice anyone watching. They were surrounded by tall buildings. Anyone could be watching from those windows. Someone on the street? Another driver? He’d made a scene. He could have drawn the curiosity of a passerby or a people watcher with nothing better to do.
Or someone from his past had already caught up to him.
* * *
As people brushed past on the busy sidewalk, Lucia reached for her gun, unsnapping her holster. The atmosphere had tensed and shifted. If someone approached her or Cash, she would defend them.
Before her transfer to Benjamin’s white-collar crime team, Lucia had worked in the violent-crime division on a complex murder-for-hire case. Her contributions to breaking up a ring of Egyptian nationals selling their services as assassins had led to fifteen arrests and fourteen convictions. Unfortunately, several of the well-known assassins who were part of the ring remained out of reach.
Her old team leader had let her know that the assassins still at large could seek revenge and target the team who had broken up their lucrative business. A few months had passed without any whisper of a threat. Lucia had been lulled into a sense of security that shattered the moment her instincts pricked that something was wrong.
Her instincts had served her well at the Bureau. She couldn’t have explained why or how she knew trouble was near. Just as she had known by their treatment of her as the only female member of the violent-crime division that they were looking for a reason to kick her off the team.
In the end, it hadn’t been something she’d done or hadn’t done. It had been her success that gave her boss a reason to request a promotion for her. A promotion to a better-paying, higher-ranking open position in another unit.
She and Cash returned to her vehicle. They got in and she turned the key. The eerie sensation of being watched wouldn’t subside.
The car didn’t start. She paused a moment and heard the sound of the battery whining. “Get out of the car! Run!” she yelled.
Lucia opened the driver’s-side door and rolled, covering her face and head. Car horns blared at her and she narrowly avoided being struck by oncoming traffic. Cash had heeded her warning and was standing on the street looking at her strangely. Maybe the car was old and needed a new ignition. Maybe the engine needed a tune-up. Maybe that first faulty turn was driver error.
Then Cash was next to her, lifting her to her feet. “Lucia, what is—”
The car exploded, the boom echoing against the tall buildings around her, a blast of heat hitting them and knocking them to the ground. Heat burned up Lucia’s side. Cash covered her, shielding her. Something hit her leg hard enough to send pain radiating up her body.
Lucia had been in the line of fire before, but she hadn’t experienced the impersonal coldness of an assassination attempt. Her follow-up thought was just as terrifying. It hadn’t blown the first or second time she had started the car that day. Either someone had put the bomb in the car while she had been on the sidewalk talking to Cash or someone had been watching her and waiting to detonate the bomb. Either way, a killer was close.
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