CrossFire (Love & Lies #1) (9 page)

“That will be perfect,” he said.

“Great, I just need identification and a credit card.”

Reid pulled out his wallet.

“And will you be checking any luggage?” she asked, taking the cards from him.

“Nope, I’m good”

Reid waited for her to print off his tickets and then walked over to security. His companion followed him only as far as another nearby garbage can to lean against. This was perfect. Reid made it through security and disappeared around a corner. He peeked back around just in time to see the man pull out a cell phone as he started to walk away.

Reid rushed to an exit point and made his way towards the nearest skybridge leading to the parking garage, when he saw a man in a white fedora exiting the double doors at the opposite end. Reid raced across the vestibule and came out in time to see him step onto an elevator. Since it was only ground transportation on the lower levels, Reid hit the up button and watched the LED screen above the elevator Mr. Fedora had stepped on. Every time another set of doors opened, Reid pushed the up button again, ignoring the confused stares from other patrons. He had to know where
this
elevator was headed. Reid lucked out; it made one stop only on the fifth level before heading back down. Now he jumped into the first open elevator and took it up two floors. He ran along the aisles, trying to keep his head low, until he caught sight of his man in the far north corner and Reid hurried over before his opportunity was gone. The man climbed into his car. Reid hid behind a pole. All he needed was a license number. Creeping between two vehicles, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the plates as the driver backed out. Reid dropped to the ground and rolled under an Acura as Mr. Fedora swung out wide to straighten his wheels before driving off.

Reid rolled back out and called Aaron while making his way back to his own car.

“Jackson, where are you at?”

“About to leave Sea-Tac. I was being followed, but I just lost him. I’m sending you a picture of his license plate. I need you to get me a name and address and then meet me at my place.”

“That’s easy enough. See you soon.”

Reid started his car and put it into reverse, but then immediately slammed it into park again. He climbed out and started feeling along the undercarriage until he found what he was looking for. A tracker had been placed under the passenger side door. After a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, Reid climbed onto the running board of his car and stuck the magnetic tracker onto the topside of a metal bar that was running along the low ceiling of the garage. Now he was ready to go.

Back at the house Reid went upstairs and grabbed a Kevlar vest and holster from the back of his closet before heading back downstairs to the laundry room. He opened the door of the built-in ironing board cabinet and pressed hard against the right side of the back panel. It clicked opened to reveal an array of guns and other small weapons. This was only a sample of his personal collection that was hidden throughout the house, but it had everything he would need for now. He selected a knife and two guns with extra ammo before restoring the cabinet. He was just walking back out to the garage as Aaron’s motorcycle turned into the driveway.

“You made good time,” Reid said when Aaron pulled off his helmet.

“Told you it wouldn’t be hard,” Aaron said as Reid started putting on his vest. “Jesus, man, your wound is bleeding.”

“What?” Reid turned around best he could and saw the red staining his t-shirt. “Dammit, I must have pulled the stitches.” He went out to the garage to grab his first-aid kit.

“A doctor should be looking at that,” said Aaron.

“No time. You’re going to have to help me.”

Aaron bandaged it while he told Reid what he had learned. “So the car is registered to a Peter Maren, a suspected courier of local crime boss Aleksandr Morozov. Like anything else connected to the man, it hasn’t been confirmed. But here’s the thing; Morozov is Casimir’s cousin.”

“Do you think Morozov’s helping him?” Reid asked as he grabbed a clean shirt from the laundry room and started again to gear up.

“Would make sense. But I know what you’re thinking, and no, we have nothing concrete on Morozov to bring him in.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t question him.”

Aaron shook his head. “The man is virtually untouchable. I think we’d be showing our hand by approaching him.”

Reid thought about it and knew Aaron was right. Especially since they weren’t working in any official capacity at the moment.

“You have an address for this Maren guy?” He asked.

“Of course.”

Reid grabbed a water, an energy bar, and the bottle of ibuprofen sitting next to the fridge. “Let’s head out then.”

“How you wanna play this?” Aaron asked as they sat in Reid’s Cayenne. They parked on the street around the corner from Peter’s apartment building in the Capitol Hill area of Seattle.

“I think I’ll go in myself,” said Reid. “If he tries to run, you can cut him off.” He put in an earpiece and called Aaron’s cell. “Keep the line open.

Aaron nodded and both men exited the vehicle. Reid made his way to the front while Aaron walked around the back, presumably keeping an eye out for other exits.

At the building entrance, Reid found a secured entry so he hung back a short distance until someone made their way to the door from the inside. He walked up and pretended to dig for a key. The couple leaving actually smiled at him as they held it open.

“Thanks,” Reid said, returning the smile.

He took the elevator to the third floor and as he made his way down the hall, he noticed peep holes on the doors and knew that Peter wasn’t going to be opening the door for Reid. He slowed down to listen for movement inside as he walked by and heard someone, hopefully Peter, on the other side of the door.

“Wells,” he said quietly into the earpiece, “I’m pulling the fire alarm to draw him out. Let me know when help arrives.”

“Copy that.”

Reid continued to the end of the hallway and pulled on the lever, careful not to leave any fingerprints.

Most people were either not home or not taking the alarm seriously, because few tenants were exiting into the hallway, but Maren finally poked his head out to check the threat. Reid was ready, shoving him back inside and quickly aiming his gun to Maren’s head as he kicked the door closed behind them.

Maren’s mouth fell open. “You—you! I left you at the airport!”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, against the wall with your hands up.” Maren did as he was told. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and if you want to make it out of this with all your body parts attached, then I suggest you answer them.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me here,” said Maren. “Someone might hear you.”

“First of all, I don’t need a gun to dismember you. And second, in case you didn’t notice, most of your neighbors are currently exiting the building. We have a few minutes until the fire department arrives. But I suggest you hurry, because when they do, you will no longer be of use to me. Now where is the girl?”

“What girl?”

Reid pressed the barrel harder against the back of Maren’s head and cocked it.

“Oh, you mean that girl,” he said. “I don’t know where she is. They put her on a boat, but I don’t know where they are going, I swear.”

“What boat?” Reid asked, “Where would it dock? You have to give me more, Maren.”

“It’s the boss’s boat, the
Clara.
”

“And where does it usually dock?”

“I’m not sure.”

Reid whacked the butt of his gun against the side of Maren’s kneecap.

“Ow! I told you the truth. I don’t know!”

“Then what do you know about it?”

“It’s not in the lake. It’s in the sound. Elliot Bay, I think.”

Reid rolled his eyes. “Would it be the Elliot Bay Marina by any chance?”

Maren’s eyes squinted shut, anticipating another blow. “I think so, I swear I don’t know.”

“Where’s your phone?” Reid asked and Maren pointed to small table nearby. Reid pocketed it and then shot Maren in the knee. He’d live, but it would keep him busy long enough for Reid to get Jillian back. There was a fire escape out Maren’s bedroom window. Reid’s feet hit the ground right as engines were pulling up. He crossed the street and took the long way back to his car where Aaron was waiting.

“So now we just need to find this boat, the
Clara
?” he asked.

“We find the boat,” said Reid. “We find Jillian.”

The boat had left the dock over an hour ago and Jillian was seated on the couch, unsure what to do with herself. Now that they were out in the middle of the Puget Sound, she presumed Casimir wasn’t worried about her escaping and seemed at ease as he conducted business in another language on his cell phone.

But that all changed with the arrival of a steward.

“Sir,” he said holding out a phone, “Morozov is on the line for you.”

"
Shcho
," Jillian heard Casimir answer.

He continued talking in the foreign tongue and Jillian tuned it out, but when he hung up, she couldn’t help noticing that he looked pleased.

Without a word, Casimir grabbed Jillian by the arm and marched her across the room and down a flight of stairs, calling someone who followed them. Casimir opened a door and threw her in so hard that she fell onto the floor.

“
Steshyty za neyu!
” he ordered as he slammed the door shut and locked it.

Jillian stood up and pressed an ear to the door. Someone (she guessed Casimir) walked away while the other person remained on the other side of the door. She turned to survey the room, not much bigger than a broom closet. A small boring bed was in one corner and an even smaller bathroom in another.

It was hard to know exactly what was going on, but seeing as how Casimir suddenly felt the need to place her under lock and key, Jillian wondered if Reid was behind it. Was he keeping good on his promise to rescue her? Would he succeed?

Reid pushed a small Zodiac into the water from a boat ramp on the west side of San Juan Island and fired up the outboard motor. Using the GPS on his phone, he steered the boat in the direction where the
Clara
was sitting, just nosing the Washington-Canada border.

When Reid could plainly make out the boat’s lights bobbing along the horizon, he cut the motor and took up the oars in an effort to draw as little attention as possible to himself. It was still a good twenty minutes of hard rowing before Reid reached the side of the
Clara
. He made for the darkest part of the boat and got as close to the railing as possible. Reid contemplated his next move. He was going to have to jump to grab the railing, and he was only going to have one chance at it, or he was in the water. One deep breath, and then Reid vaulted as high as he could. Both hands made contact with the metal bar, but one slipped just as he was tightening his grip. Now he hung off the yacht by a single arm that was already exhausted from the rowing. Another deep breath and Reid swung the free arm around, this time keeping hold. But he still needed to pull himself up over the railing. He was just about to do it when he heard footsteps coming in his direction. His only hope now was that they didn’t see his fingers wrapped around the lowest railing. But then someone called out and the footsteps faded in the opposite direction. Reid summoned the last of his strength and climbed over the railing.

Now to figure where on the damn boat they were keeping Jillian. His best guess was that she was somewhere below. Quickly and quietly he made his way to the nearest door and found stairs leading to a lower deck with a narrow hall. Reid couldn’t see what was at the other end of the hall, so he pulled out a small telescopic mirror and could see doors lining the hall, one of which was manned by someone with a gun. If they were guarding that room, that must be where Jillian was.

Reid screwed the silencer onto his pistol, wishing there was some other way. It was one thing shooting at someone firing you, but he had always hated this part of the job.

Jillian was inspecting the bathroom for anything that might help her out of this room when she heard a thump outside the door. She stepped out and could see the handle jiggling. She yanked the only lamp from the wall and positioned herself behind the door with it raised over her head. This might be her only chance—to do what she wasn’t entirely sure, but she couldn’t sit around waiting any longer.

There was a click and the handle was definitely turning now. Jillian sucked in a breath, preparing for whoever was coming through that door.

“Reid?” she said, certain her mind was playing tricks on her.

His familiar face beamed at her and Jillian’s hopes soared. He’d done it. He’d actually rescued her.

“How are you here?” she asked, lowering the lamp. “How is this possible? How do you
know
these people?” So many questions were going through her head; she didn’t know where to start.

But Reid ignored her and wrapped his arms around her. “Thank God you’re okay. Did they hurt you?” He pushed her out to arm’s length, and Jillian saw his eyes settle on the cut lip. He frowned, but didn’t comment on it.