Survive By The Team (Team Fear Book 3) Page 7
He pulled a pink bedazzled phone from his hoodie pocket. “Call him. Let him know you’re here.”
“This is your phone?”
“Lady on the bus.”
Her jaw dropped. “She sat two rows ahead of us.”
“We passed her on the way to the back row.”
He picked her pocket that fast? “What are you?”
“That’s a damn good question. Now call your friend.” He hunched over to block the wind while she made the call and then stayed until Glen texted that he was in the lobby.
Mandi climbed the steps alone, but Stills didn’t leave until she’d disappeared into the glass lobby. The absence of wind made the space feel quiet. Too quiet, but that lasted until Glen caught sight of her.
“Mandi,” his big voice boomed. He wrapped her in a giant bear hug and held so tight the breath squeezed from her chest. He was a big man with ebony skin and a heart warm enough to melt a glacier. “You look like shit,” he said when he let her up for air.
Her throat hurt and the scrapes on her skin made her look like she’d rolled in broken glass. Muscles she didn’t know existed still ached. “Thanks for noticing.”
“What are friends for?” He gave her another hard hug before releasing her. “What’s with the scrubs?”
“Got them from a nurse.”
“Okay. New question. What happened to your clothes?”
Good question. Hmm. “I guess the nurse cut them off me.”
He leaned back to frown down at her. “Seriously, what happened to you?”
“Car wreck in the dust storm last night.”
“That was you? It was all over morning radio.”
“They didn’t mention my name?”
“No.
“What about in the paper?”
He shook his head no. “Not that I know of. I would have gone down there if I’d known.”
Then how had Stills known? Her earlier doubts resurfaced. When she was with Stills, she believed him. Trusted him. But so much about his suspicions didn’t add up. He’d lied when he said her name was in the paper. What else had he lied about?
“You do realize they’re looking for you?” Glen asked.
Her pulse jumped. “They? Who?”
“The police. Who else?”
Echo. Or was that Stills’ paranoia? God, she wished she knew what to believe. Who to believe. “I’ve never had the police looking for me,” she said. That was the truth, but a partial one because she couldn’t tell him the story about Stills’ conspiracy theories. Glen would have her placed on a seventy-two hour psych hold.
“There was an incident at the hospital today. Deputy was attacked. He’s now in surgery.”
“Deputy Chee. Please tell me he’s alive.”
“Last I heard on the news. What’s going on with you?”
Mandi glanced around the cavernous lobby with a ceiling that lifted ten stories in the air. A single security guard stood by the metal detectors and two others sat at a long reception desk. A few people in business suits walked quickly through, but not enough to distract the guards. They watched Mandi and Glen with unveiled interest. “Do you have time for a walk?”
He glanced at his phone to check the time. “I can take fifteen.” He led her toward the sliding glass doors that opened automatically when they neared.
“How’s Patric?” she asked. Glen and Patric had been an item for years, but a few months ago, they took a huge step and moved in together.
A big old grin lightened his features. “Good. Did I tell you he got a promotion?”
“No. When?”
“They told him last week, but it won’t be announced until the beginning of the month. Assistant D.A.”
“That’s amazing.” Mandi gripped a metal bar as she stepped down the front stairs. It would be her luck to go tumbling down and break her neck. “Tell him congratulations. I’m proud of him.”
“He’ll like that. You should come down for longer next time. We have a man we want you to meet.”
“Not again. Let’s quit before someone gets hurt.”
“Hey,” he said, sounding mildly offended. “I have good taste in men.”
“And I don’t.” Glen had been irate over Maurice.
“You need to give one of the good guys a chance.”
Mandi shook her head. “It’s really very sweet of you, but there’s never been any...”
“Chemistry?” Glen asked.
“Exactly.”
“But there was with the dickhead?”
“I know. I know. My instincts about men are lousy.”
“Which is why you should let me find you someone.”
Mandi groaned. “Not now.”
“I think you’re depressed.”
“Probably.” Mandi grabbed his elbow and guided him away from the building. She’d isolated herself after Danny’s death, and the showdown with Maurice had left her further alone, but she wasn’t ready yet. “I’ll find someone when Ellie is more independent.”
“It would be good for her too,” Glen said. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you, but no to the setup.”
“Fine. At least come for the promotion party. They’re having a meet and greet the night they make the announcement. Cheap wine and dry cheese.”
“Way to sell it,” she teased. She glanced both directions, looking for someone like John. Big, bland, and possibly psychotic, but the street was filled with business people for the most part. She turned right to go around the block. “Text me the date.” Shoot, she’d lost her phone and didn’t have a clue when she could afford a replacement. Ugh. One more financial worry on top of everything else. “On second though, just call the house phone and leave it on the machine. I’ll see if Miss Connie can watch Ellie again.”
“How’s my girl doing?”
“Better. The speech therapy is coming along nicely.”
“Good. You need any help—”
“Stop.” They’d had this argument too many times. Mandi was determined to remain independent. She didn’t have Danny to look out for her anymore. It was time to look out for herself. “I can take care of Ellie.”
“We want to help.”
“I know.” Mandi wrapped an arm through his to soothe the sting of her rejection. “But we’re doing okay, really. Death is inevitable, so my work is recession proof.”
The somber look in his eyes showed doubt. “You’d tell me if you needed anything?”
“Of course.” They turned right at the corner. The adjacent building blocked much of the wind, making it easier to talk. Mandi’s stomach growled but she ignored it as they moved at a steady clip down the city sidewalk. There were fewer people on the side street, making her feel secure enough to discuss why she’d come. “If I need something, I promise to ask you like I asked about Danny’s autopsy.”
He disengaged their arms to reach into his pocket and pull out a USB drive.
The quiet street after a day of fights and shooting and running felt oppressive. She quickly glanced around for a threat, but didn’t see anything. Not that she’d noticed anything suspicious when she first met John.
Her hands shook as she reached for the drive. Low blood sugar, or so she tried to convince herself. She hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, but as logical as that sounded, she feared what was on that drive. It was proof. One way or another, it was proof of what Stills suspected. Or not. She wished she had a laptop with her.
The small drive felt as explosive as a bomb sitting in the palm of her hand.
Glen wrapped an arm over her shoulder and propelled her around the back corner of the building. “I want to know what your brother was involved with. The ME tried to delete the tox screen. Redacted the autopsy. There’s crap in Danny’s blood I can’t even begin to identify.”
So Stills was right? She felt alternately glad that Danny hadn’t gone off the rails and terrified that someone had driven him to act in such a desperate manner. “I know someone who may be able to identify it,” she admitted.
She glanced up to meet Glen’s gaze. “A friend of Danny’s.”
His brown eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“A friend from the Army,” she said the words to convince herself as much as Glen. “He’s helping me.”
“When did this friend show up?”
“Today.” She really hated to admit that.
“That’s convenient.” Glen glanced around. “Where is he?”
“Getting his car.” Mandi winced at the lie, but if she told Glen the truth, he’d have a fit.
“Are you sure he’s safe?” Glen unwittingly repeated Stills’ question.
Was Stills safe? He was fierce and frightening and sexy in a badass way that triggered her horrific taste in men. There was no softness in his gaze or in his tone. He moved with precision and an eerie quiet. He moved like a killer, but he wasn’t as cold as Echo, nor as crazy. At least on the outside. The doubts throbbed in her skull, aggravating the bruises. “Safe enough.”
“Be careful,” Glen insisted. “There’s some weird shit in Danny’s file. This friend—”
“He’s looking for answers, same as us.”
“Why don’t you stick around? Wait until I get off work and we can figure this out together?”
They had circled back to the entrance where Stills waited. In the midmorning sun, he looked like a sundial planted in the cement in front of the building. Unmoving, yet occupying a significant amount of space. She swallowed. She could take Glen up on his offer, but Stills would leave and take the answers with him. “Glen, I want you to meet—”
“Dean.” Stills pushed a hand forward to shake. Next to each other, the two men were evenly matched in height, but there was a killer peering from Stills’ eyes. “You knew Gault?”
“Since kindergarten,” Glen said. “He never mentioned you.”
Stills’ smile looked more like the growl of a slumbering beast considering his cut lip and bruises. “I bet he didn’t say a damn thing about Afghanistan. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”
Glen played a game of twenty questions right in front of the ME’s office until he seemed satisfied that Stills knew Danny. “Why here? Why now?”
Stills glanced around the busy downtown street like he was expecting trouble. “After the incident, after Gault died.” Stills bit the words out. “Before that. He said if anything happened, I should watch out for—”
“Like he knew?” Glen asked. “He was making plans so he could kill himself?”
“No,” Stills said emphatically. The cut on his lip pulled into a frown. “Gault did not plan to go out with a bang. He knew something was off, but not with him. With those around him. We’d already seen a friend die—”
“Madigan?” Glen asked.
“You knew him?” Stills asked.
Glen shook his head and glanced back at the door leading to his office as if he wanted to say more, but worried about being overheard.
Stills tucked his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “Look, Gault told a friend of mine where to find Madigan’s autopsy report. We have it now. Since you know the name, I’m going to connect the dots. You’re the one who got the autopsy report for him.”
“I have a friend down in Texas who was able to get me the information before it was wiped. And I’m not talking redacted. It’s like Madigan never existed.”
“That’s what they want.” Stills didn’t elaborate. “You can’t tell anyone, and I mean anyone, that you’ve shared this with Gault’s sister. If they know, she’ll become a target.”
“Is that why Danny died?” Glen asked.
A businessman slowed as he approached them. Stills motioned for them to wait. The guy in the suit gave them wide berth and looked back twice before crossing to the other side of the street. Stills turned back to Glen and his face was red and angry. “Don’t use their names. Ever. Not in real life, not on the Internet, and damn sure not on the phone.”
Glen’s troubled gaze sought her out. “We already did.”
“Too late,” she admitted. “We talked about it over the phone on multiple occasions. I even told Glen when I was leaving and what route I was taking to get here.”
“Which is how Echo found you when you ditched your coffee date. He waited until you were away on a rural section of highway and the storm provided a plausible excuse.”
“I thought you had an accident?” Glen’s eyes narrowed.
“I was helped,” Mandi admitted. “Assault with a rusty-ass pickup.”
“Twenty bucks says it’s the same guy we ran into at the hospital.”
“The trouble at the hospital has to do with this?” Glen wrapped his hands around her biceps and turned her to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d only worry.”
“Damn right I’d worry. Girl, you’re coming home with me. Right. Now.”
Stills’ hard eyes skimmed the street. “They know you’ve been talking to Glen. They know enough to track you here.”
“Oh, God.” Mandi crumbled as the implications hit her full force. “What if I brought trouble to you? To Patric?”
“Highly probable, and no, it’s not your fault.” Stills continued to speak while keeping an eye on everyone and everything around them. “Glen, do you have somewhere to lay low?”
“We can probably—”
“Don’t tell me. Don’t tell anyone, and get out of town quickly. Don’t go back to your house or apartment. Borrow a friend’s car or take public transport. If Echo fails to reengage us, he’ll start eliminating leaks. Starting with you. Mandi—”
Glen put a restraining hand out. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
“Son, you don’t have the skills, experience, or stomach to protect her from the catastrofuck chasing her.”
“And you do?”
The experience in Stills’ eyes spoke of death and dying. He glanced down at Mandi. “The choice is yours. Gault asked me to keep an eye on you. You want to pass that job to your friend here, fine by me. I’ll be home for dinner. If you wind up in the obituary column that’s not on me. Decide.”
Chapter Six
The obituary comment seemed a little extreme. Mandi looked between the two men. Glen was as comfortable as an old fuzzy blanket. By the same analogy, Stills was a scratchy old wool army blanket that would keep her up all night, but Stills promised answers about Danny’s death, and she couldn’t turn that down.
She stepped up on tiptoes and kissed Glen’s cool cheek. “I’ve got to go. Take care of yourself and Patric. Please take this seriously. They have tried to kill me multiple times.”
Glen gripped Stills’ massive bicep in a tight grip. “Anything happens to her and I’m coming for you.”
“Anything happens to her, I’m already dead.”
A shiver went down her spine at the implication. The promise in his words wasn’t exactly reassuring. Mandi didn’t look back as they walked away from everything she knew.
“What next?”
“Hell if I know.” Stills led her to an SUV the color of rust and as old as dirt.
“Aren’t you the man on a mission?”
“I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. Normally that works for me, but not today.”
“What does that mean?”
He helped her into the passenger seat before walking around the front. He had a key—she probably didn’t want to know how he’d acquired it—and started the engine. “Echo got too damn close and it almost got you killed.”
“You as well.”
“I’m living on borrowed time. Captain Johnson saved my ass today. If he hadn’t been there?” Stills merged into traffic. “I don’t have the first clue what game he’s playing.”
“Explain,” she insisted as she yanked the seatbelt and snapped it into place. “All of it.” Her stomach growled. “Over food. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”
“We’re better off eating on the run.”
Mandi shook her head. “I want to see what’s on this file first.”
Stills pulled off the road and tapped on the pink phone for a few minutes. “Fine. I have a solution for both, but if Echo finds us—”
“I think your captain took care of him.”
Stills snorted. “Like hell. The captain bought us time. Even if Echo is dead, there are more assholes to take his place. You’re not safe until we figure out what is in those autopsy reports that they don’t want you to see. That they don’t want my team to know.”
“You think all of this is about the autopsy?” Had she signed her own death warrant?
“When did you contact Glen about the report?”
She swallowed. “The day before the man you call Echo showed at the funeral parlor. Why didn’t they kill me then?”
“Sugar, I have no idea what goes through their twisted minds. Strategically, they probably don’t want to leave too many bodies. And it’s possible they wanted to draw us out.”
“Us?”
“Team Fear. They’ve done this before, keeping surveillance on Ryder’s wife.”
That triggered a load of questions. “Why would they think anything I was doing would bring you out?”
“Because Gault asked me to keep an eye on you.”
Mandi didn’t buy that. No one from either side had messed with her until she started asking questions. And she had some for Stills as well. “Who is Ryder?”
Stills pulled back into traffic. “Our second in command.”
“The first being the captain,” she surmised.
He didn’t answer, but continued driving, his face grooved as if in deep thought. He drove the speed of traffic, staying in one lane, and generally following the laws. For a man who didn’t have a problem stealing, he was quite the law-abiding citizen. When they stopped at a light several miles down the road, he started thinking out loud. “Echo has some deep pockets for a group of rogue military guys. They had to have your phones monitored, which involves equipment and a surveillance team on the other end.”
Someone had been listening to her conversations? Surely Stills was being paranoid. Right? “Why do you think they tapped my phone?”
“They knew Danny had Madigan’s files.”
“That’s why he’s dead.” The words hurt to say.