Man Undercover Page 2
Tara leveled her gaze at him now, seemed to be weighing his words, assessing the story. He felt for a moment as if she had a tracking beam on him, her blue eyes searching his, searching for a flaw, a reason not to trust him.
“All right,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “I’m going to take a leap of faith here and assume you’re telling me the truth. But can’t you stop all this right now? Can’t you just arrest them?”
“I’ve spent ten months trying to get in good with these people, and Carl and Rusty are my ticket to the big show—whatever that may be.”
Matt hadn’t gotten a whole lot out of his jail mates, but he’d gathered enough information to know that the “big show” would involve high explosives, and a lot of them.
“That’s all well and good,” Tara said. “But what about me? I’ve got nothing to do with any of this.”
Matt felt a tug of guilt. “If I could keep you out of it, I would, but my only option now is to make sure you’re safe without compromising my mission. And I can’t do that without your help.”
She stared at him a moment longer, full of fear and dread and maybe even a touch of anger, and he found himself unable to look away. He was asking a lot of her and wouldn’t blame her if she told him to go to hell.
He was almost surprised when she didn’t.
“All right,” she said. “What do we do next?”
Relief washing through him, Matt looked out the front window again, saw Carl on his way back up the drive. “We improvise.”
He started unbuttoning his shirt and Tara’s eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to make it look convincing. I need you to hit me. Scratch my face.”
“What?”
“We don’t have time for another round of twenty questions,” he said. “Just do it.”
IT WAS AGAINST HER better nature, but Tara followed Matt’s command and slapped him, hard, across the left side of his face.
Matt winced, gesturing for her to keep it coming. “Don’t stop there. You said you’d hurt me if I touched you, so make good on your promise.”
But Tara didn’t move.
This was happening way too fast.
Was he really FBI? Or was this all some elaborate ruse? An exercise in fear and intimidation that gave him some weird, sexual thrill.
She’d said she was taking a leap of faith, but this felt more like a giant hurdle across a yawning chasm. She’d thought there was something different about him, but she’d never have guessed he was a cop. He didn’t seem to have that self-important cop swagger she knew so well.
“Come on,” he said, glancing toward the window. “He’ll be here any second now.”
Trust him, Tara. You have to trust him.
It was his eyes that finally convinced her. Those intense green-gray eyes. Unflinching. Uncompromising. But also full of what looked like genuine concern.
She wondered if he had any children. If he did, he sure as hell shouldn’t be here now, risking his life like this for a job. Even if it was an important one.
But none of that was any of her business, was it? She had a choice to make. And the stakes were too high to say no.
Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst through her chest. Wanting to get this over with, she thought about her father again, and how much she’d resented him, then quickly reached up and dug her nails into Matt’s cheek, drawing blood.
Matt winced and stepped back, grabbing his face, swearing under his breath, and she immediately felt terrible, wanting to apologize.
When he recovered he said, “You’re pretty good at that. Now you’d better get back on the sofa and play your part. If Carl doesn’t buy this, we’re sunk. He already has his doubts about me.”
She nodded, then looked at his open shirt, noting the exposed ripple of abs. “What about my jeans? Should I take them off?”
He paused, staring at her. “That’s up to you. I wasn’t going to ask.”
“If I’m playing the victim, I’d better look like one.”
“I won’t argue with that. You might want to mess your hair up a bit, too.”
He turned away then, giving her a moment of privacy as Tara quickly ran a hand through her hair, tousling it, then unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them, tossing them aside. She couldn’t quite believe she was doing this, standing here in nothing but a V-neck and panties in front of a complete stranger, but what choice did she have? If it meant getting out of this situation in one piece, she’d milk this part for all it was worth.
Feeling more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her life, she climbed onto the sofa and scooted into the far corner, tucking her legs under her and hugging herself. She had been working for the Morning News for the better part of six years, but no story she’d ever worked on had prepared her for something like this.
She was trembling again. Before she realized it, tears filled her eyes and started rolling down her cheeks.
As if sensing her distress, Matt turned.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice. See it in those eyes.
Tara shook her head. “Let’s just get out of this alive.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment—longer than necessary—then the door burst open and Carl came into the room.
Tara’s stomach fluttered again, and she wondered if she could pull this off. But any doubt about that ability vanished the instant she saw a fresh new grin stretch across the creep’s pockmarked face.
The sight made her shudder.
“Well, well,” he said. “You two work pretty fast.” His gaze went from Tara’s bare legs to the scratch marks on Matt’s face. “And she’s a fighter. I like that.”
Matt started buttoning his shirt. “Any sign of Jimmy?”
“If there was, you think I’d be standing here?”
“You try calling him again?”
Carl nodded. “No answer. He must be in a dead zone. Reception stinks up here.”
“He doesn’t show up soon,” Matt said, “we may have to take her SUV and be done with it.”
“Jimmy told us to wait, so we wait.”
Matt frowned at him. “You do everything Jimmy tells you?”
Carl looked at Matt with what Tara thought might be a glimmer of suspicion. Or was her fear simply playing with her imagination?
“I don’t know who made you king for a day, Nicky boy, but you get uppity like this in front of Jimmy, he’ll put you down like a dying dog.”
“I think you’re forgetting who helped you break out of that prison,” Matt said. “If it weren’t for me, we’d still be counting the cockroaches on our lunch trays.”
“If it weren’t for you,” Carl told him, “Jimmy’s brother wouldn’t be lying in there with a bullet in his leg.”
Matt said nothing, but Tara could see his body tense. Carl had hit a sore spot, yet Matt kept his cool.
“We can argue about blame some other time,” Matt said. “Right now, we have to figure out what to do if Jimmy doesn’t show up.”
“He’ll show.”
“In the meantime, we’ve got a search party looking for us and we aren’t exactly mobile. Sooner or later they’ll get smart and start heading for higher ground.”
“We’ll be long gone by then,” Carl said. He grinned again and looked at Tara. “But right now it’s your turn to step outside, bro.”
Another chill run through Tara and she averted her eyes from his hideous face.
“What are you talking about?” Matt said.
“You had your fun with the lady. Now I get mine.”
“I don’t think so.”
Carl stared at him. “I’m not asking for permission, Nick.”
“And I’m not giving it. Not to you, not to Rusty, not even to Jimmy.”
Carl’s eyes went dead. It was clear to Tara that he was not a man who was used to being told no. “She belong to you now? That it? Your own private party girl?”
“Somethin
g like that.”
“You know,” Carl said, “I tried to tell Rusty we were making a mistake getting involved with you, and he kept telling me what a stand-up guy you are. But I’m just not seeing it.”
The two men faced off, and Tara’s heart once again began to accelerate. All she wanted to do was scream, Stop it! Stop it now and get out of here. Leave me alone!
But she didn’t have to.
A voice boomed out from behind them. “All right, you two…back off…right now.”
A large, pale man staggered into the bedroom doorway, one hand gripping the frame for balance as the other clutched a bloody towel to his right thigh.
Matt and Tara exchanged a quick glance. Rusty was awake after all. And it was a miracle he was standing.
A surge of panic shot through Tara. Had he heard them talking?
“We don’t have…time for this nonsense,” Rusty said, his breathing labored, every word an effort. “I can see all the way…down to the valley from my window. The search party is headed this way.”
Carl spat out a curse. “You sure about that?”
“I wouldn’t be on my feet if I wasn’t.”
“How long you think we’ve got?”
“Ten…maybe fifteen minutes max, depending on how efficient they…”
Rusty grimaced. Matt slipped an arm around him and guided him to a nearby chair.
“I’ve been trying to tell Carl that we can take her car, hook up with Jimmy at his place. Get you some medical attention.”
Rusty nodded, then grimaced again and gestured to Tara, looking at her for the first time. There was nothing reassuring in the look. “And…what about our guest?”
Carl turned his predatory gaze in her direction. “Like Jimmy always says, the only good reporter is a dead one.”
Then he crossed the room toward Tara, her panic rising with every step he took.
Chapter Three
Tara pulled back as Carl approached her. “Keep away from me,” she said.
“Easy, cupcake. As much as I’d love to drag this out, we don’t have time. So I’ll make it as quick as possible.”
But as he reached for her, Matt suddenly cut him off, placing a large hand on his shoulder and shoving him back.
“Leave her alone.”
Carl’s face grew hot. “You just made a big mistake, Nicky boy.”
“I just kept you from making a bigger one,” Matt said. “We need her alive.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Think it through, genius. We’ve got one man wounded and no ammunition. And with her dead, we’ve also got no leverage. No hostage to bargain with.”
“And who says we’re gonna need one?”
“There are at least a couple dozen cops headed our way,” Matt told him. “You do the math. The more we stand around arguing about it, the worse our chances get.”
Carl was about to protest, when Rusty said, “He’s right. Back off.”
Tara could tell by Carl’s expression that he wasn’t happy with any of them. Something very nasty was bubbling beneath the surface and threatening to boil over, but he kept himself in check.
Then he turned those dead eyes on Tara again. “Looks like Governor Rusty’s given you a reprieve, sweetheart. But you make one wrong move, I’ll execute your sentence in about three seconds flat. You understand?”
Tara nodded, her heart pounding again, knowing better than to show any sign of resistance. Carl had gone from randy sociopath to complete psycho too quickly.
“We need to get moving,” Rusty said as he struggled to his feet again, then hobbled for the cabin door, gesturing to Carl for help.
As Carl crossed the room, Matt bent down and picked up Tara’s jeans, handing them to her.
“Make it quick,” Matt told her. And as she reached for them, he brought his thumb down over the back of her hand and stroked, a gentle, reassuring gesture that was meant to calm her.
Instead, Tara felt a small, involuntary stutter of electricity skitter through her, ending with a tingling in her scalp.
Was she blushing?
Pulling away, she stepped into her jeans and quickly fastened them, all the while marveling at the mind’s ability to compartmentalize. Here she was, in danger of losing her life, yet that hadn’t kept the hormones from kicking in the moment she’d felt the heat of Matt’s hand on hers.
What the heck was wrong with her?
“Where are your keys?” Matt asked.
Relieved he hadn’t noticed her little moment of embarrassment, she nodded to her purse on the floor. He dug around inside until he found what he was looking for, then he took her by the elbow and guided her toward the front door as Carl helped Rusty outside.
Keeping his voice low, he said, “I meant what I told you. You’re safe with me.”
But as they stepped through the doorway, Tara still couldn’t keep her knees from trembling. She wanted to believe Matt, wanted to trust that he’d protect her, but with a nutcase like Carl on the loose, no one could guarantee anything.
She knew all too well about men and their promises. Especially cops. Her father had more blue in his body than a platoon of patrol officers, but where was he that night so long ago when their house had been burglarized? The night Mom got hurt?
Cavorting with one of his girlfriends, that’s where.
Tara had only been sixteen at the time, but she was no dummy. And for her mom, her father’s failure that night was the last straw after a lifetime full of disappointments.
The day after she left the hospital, Mom had quietly filed for divorce.
“Hurry it up,” Carl said.
They headed for Tara’s SUV and Matt took the wheel. Carl gestured for Tara to sit her cute little butt up front. “I want you where I can see you.”
She was happy to do as she was told. She’d much rather ride next to Matt than be stuck in back with Carl or Rusty.
She was just strapping herself in when she heard it: a faint, but unmistakable thupping sound. Thup-thup-thup-thup…
Matt heard it, too, his head jerking upward, staring out the windshield toward the afternoon sky. Helicopter.
Rescue on the way.
Tara felt her spirits lift, then Matt said, “We’ve got a problem, boys,” and jammed the keys in the ignition, turning the engine.
He was playing his part to perfection, which meant rescue might not be as close as she’d hoped.
Shoving the truck into reverse, he punched the accelerator and shot backward down the driveway, pulling onto the main road. Shifting into Drive, he said, “Which way?”
“North,” Rusty told him. Tara’s SUV was big, but he looked cramped back there, still clutching a towel to his leg and leaking blood all over her floor mats.
Carl leaned past him and clamped a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Just so you know, hotshot, once we get to the compound, there’s no turning back. You sleep with The Brotherhood, you die with The Brotherhood. Got that?”
Matt swiveled his head, giving Carl a prison-yard stare. “Take your hand off my shoulder.”
If Tara hadn’t known who he really was, that look would’ve convinced her that he was just as dangerous as Carl. He still might be.
Carl must’ve thought so, too, because his eyes widened slightly and he took his hand away, leaning back in his seat, his fury still bubbling beneath the surface.
“Drive,” he said.
As Matt shifted his foot to the gas pedal, the thupping sound suddenly grew louder and Tara saw a large black helicopter roar into view just above the trees.
MATT FELT A SMALL SURGE of panic as the chopper rose above them. The trees obscured his view, but he couldn’t fight the feeling that they’d been spotted. If that happened, it was all over.
Ten months of hell for nothing.
None of the cops out looking for them knew who he really was. In their minds, he was simply one of three dangerous criminals, and if things got ugly, he doubted they’d bother to ask for his FBI credentials.
Worse yet, his assignment would be compromised. Finished. And that just wouldn’t do. He’d worked too hard to get to this point and couldn’t turn back now. And while he knew that Tara was scared out of her wits—the last thing in the world he wanted—he had to look at the bigger picture and what it might mean if this investigation went south.
The roar of the chopper grew louder.
“Go! Go!” Carl shouted, and Matt punched the pedal.
The SUV shot forward, its beefy engine roaring as Matt rocketed along the narrow road deeper into the mountains. The sound of the rotor faded into the distance, then suddenly grew loud again.
“Take a left at the next fork,” Rusty croaked. “There’s a cave just big enough to fit us. Off to the right. We can wait it out in there.”
Matt followed Rusty’s command, guiding the SUV off the road and into a ragged hole in the side of the mountain. Plunging into near darkness, he brought the SUV to a halt and killed the engine.
They all sat quietly, listening to the chopper’s blades cut through the sky. It hovered for a long, tense moment, then revved up again and cut away.
Relieved, Matt was about to start the truck, when Rusty said, “Not yet. Let’s make sure he’s gone for good.”
So they waited a full ten minutes before they moved, nobody saying a word. Matt listened to Tara breathing rapidly beside him and wanted to reach over and squeeze her hand, assure her that everything would be all right.
But would it?
Could he make that guarantee?
He knew that if it came to it, he’d lay himself down to protect her. Collateral damage was not an option here. But before that happened, he’d have to find a way to set her free, get her as far away from these psychopaths as possible.
How he’d do that without tipping his hand was beyond him at the moment. In the meantime, he’d just have to keep improvising.
Carl was looking out the back window. “We’re clear,” he said. He dug the cell phone out of his pocket and found it had a signal. He quickly punched in a number.
After a moment, he spoke into the phone. “Where are you?”