And just like that, Lucas Baker had become a dead end, literally. Those who lived by the sword, died by it, she thought. One day she might not be so cavalier about that kind of fate, but she had no sympathy for a guy like Baker. Preventing his murder required incentive and opportunity, and she had neither. And saving Baker’s life hadn’t been in the cards. Now, given the new scenario, she had to adapt and improvise.
She kept her eyes on the man who had killed Baker using her night vision gear. He picked up the computer bag and his shell casings, then dissolved into the shadows, as he had come. Carefully, she weighed her options. The man would have to report to someone.
In the next parking lot over, she saw him get into a dark BMW sedan. He headed out of the lot without his headlights until he got to the main road, doing the speed limit. After yanking the knit cap off her head, she pulled from the curb, minding all the traffic laws.
Trailing a killer was a gamble, but one she was willing to take. The stakes were too high to play it safe.
She lagged behind him, not wanting to spook the guy. When he merged onto the Dan Ryan Expressway heading south, she blended with traffic, not wanting to stand out. She calmed her heart and settled in for a long, steady pursuit.
But when the bastard swerved off the Calumet Expressway, heading for the Indiana state line, all that changed. He picked up speed. And off the freeway it would be harder to lurk behind him this time of night.
“What the hell?” she said aloud. “Did you spot me?”
She had to be careful now. He might have picked up speed to watch his rearview mirror to see if anyone followed. But even if she kept her composure and didn’t panic, she still had a dilemma. She could lose him if she lagged too far behind, but if she sped up, he might spot her. This section of road had less traffic.
“Cagey bastard.”
Baker’s killer might have eyes in the back of his head, but if she didn’t hit the accelerator, she’d lose him anyway. She took a calculated risk and sped up. Barreling through the dark, the BMW sedan flashed in and out of overhead streetlights ahead. And she used his red taillights to keep her eyes on him.
But in a dark section of road the taillights disappeared. It took her a moment to figure out what he’d done.
“Shit.”
Playing hardball, the guy was running without lights, making him hard to see. A dangerous game. The killer had upped the stakes, leaving her little choice. She gripped the steering wheel and floored the gas pedal, dousing her headlights. Until she could confirm the man knew he had a tail, she had to play by his rules.
“The gloves are off, baby. Let’s play.”
CHAPTER 11
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, but not nearly enough. Speeding, Alexa gripped the steering wheel and glared through her windshield, navigating by moonlight. Just her luck. Mother Nature hadn’t cooperated. What she wouldn’t give for a full moon and a clear night. She barely saw the center lane stripes and had to guess at the curves in the road.
Spotting the BMW, she gunned her vehicle to keep up. Her target’s dark shadow loomed dead ahead, still running without lights. Few cars remained now. And only two drove at breakneck speed.
At the last minute he veered onto a dark frontage road, forcing her to pull the wheel hard right. Momentum shoved her against the car door. Her seat belt locked across her chest. She prayed the car wouldn’t flip, putting her in a ditch. The bastard knew where he was going, but she could only react—a formula for disaster.
No pretense anymore. The guy knew he had a tail. She turned on her headlights and pushed the car faster. Tall grass and fence posts blew past, caught in the tunnel of her headlights. She got close enough to see the back of his head through his rear window, but he never turned around. A man with long dark hair, from what she could make out.
He broke from the frontage road and hit an entrance ramp. She followed hard left.
“Damn it.” With her chest heaving, adrenaline pumped through her veins like a drug.
Up ahead, an overpass glimmered in the dark. More traffic.
“Oh, shit.”
The guy hit the exit ramp doing eighty. At the busier intersection ahead, a traffic light turned red, but he didn’t hit the brakes. He blasted through it, forcing cars off the road. One hit a guardrail with the grinding tear of metal. She slammed on the brakes, barely missing a car in the intersection.
The bastard put too many innocent people at risk, and she refused to compound the problem. He sped away without lights, leaving her at the traffic light. Her heart pounded her ribs, pumping her full of juice.
“This isn’t over, you son of a bitch.”
She’d gotten close enough to get his license number, but didn’t have high hopes for DMV to give her answers. A guy who killed the way he did wouldn’t be caught so easily. Round one went to him, but their fight had only just begun. She’d run DMV to see if she got a hit, but had money on her long shot—the bounty hunter.
For whatever reason, Jess Beckett had kept one step ahead, making her the odds-on favorite to come up with another hot lead. Hedging her bet, Alexa had placed a GPS tracker on Beckett’s car outside The Cutthroat, after her cop friend went inside. If nothing else, she’d track the impetuous woman to make sure she didn’t get in the way. At least that was how she preferred to think of it. In reality, if she came up empty, she didn’t want to explain why a damned bounty hunter had gotten a jump on her again. It was only a matter of time before Garrett Wheeler, covert liaison to the Sentinels, would know she had ignored his advice and pursued her personal agenda to Chicago. When that happened, she’d have questions to answer, but until then, making progress was key.
One way or another, she would find another way into Globe Harvest. The stakes were too high to fail.
Stanislav Petrovin kept his eyes alert, parked off the shoulder of a rural frontage road near a stand of trees. Preferring the anonymity of the dark, he sat in his BMW with engine running and lights off. Several times, he had detoured and hid his vehicle in the shadows to watch traffic and make sure he’d lost his tail. Now, convinced the chase was over, he pulled back onto the road with headlights on, thinking about what he would report to his superior, Anton Bukolov.
Eliminating the threat of the vehicle tailing him had not been an issue. Few had the stomach for driving as if they had a death wish. Disregarding the risk to himself, he was more concerned with what his pursuer had seen and known about this segment of Bukolov’s organization. Lucas Baker had become a liability. He’d been right to kill the man, but had the damage been done?
Bukolov would expect his assessment. What would he tell the old man?
He’d learned a valuable lesson long ago. The success of a mission always outweighed his personal safety. He preferred to stare death in the face on his terms than to place his life in the hands of Bukolov if he failed. His superior was not known for his mercy.
And he hadn’t become second in command by playing it safe. So far, the rewards tipped the scale in his favor, at least in his judgment. In this country, he had power, saved from a life of mediocrity.
But tonight’s unexpected encounter set Petrovin on edge. Despite the setback, perhaps evacuation of their local facility would be in order. They had a plan for such an eventuality. It would not hurt to be ready. Severing a gangrenous limb to save the body made sense.
Yet one course of action was quite clear to him. At a minimum, the bounty hunter and her connections would be eliminated. He’d take this task on himself, along with a team of handpicked men. Failure would not be acceptable.
For the second time in two days Sam jolted awake from a call in the middle of the night. She flipped the light on and squinted, groping for the phone on her nightstand. She recognized the number displayed by caller ID.
“Yeah…Cooper here.”
“Hey, Sam. Sorry to wake you.” The voice of night desk sergeant Jackson Miller stirred a repeat of her worst fears for Jessie. Miller had been on duty when her friend was pulled in for questioning the other night.
“No problem, Sarge. What’s happening?” She forced herself to remain calm.
“Thought you’d want to hear. Lucas Baker is dead.”
