“Yeah. Mine is the one on the left.”
He’d been to Cass’s place many times, but he usually stayed on the first floor. They reached the top of the stairs. He was intently focused on what was in front of him, expecting danger at any moment. He readied himself to go into the first bedroom on the right.
But when he heard Cass scream, he spun around. Someone must have been lying in wait in the bedroom on the left.
The man had his beefy arm wrapped around Cass’s neck. She was thrashing about, but it wasn’t doing much good.
Zane rushed toward the attacker, feeling confident that he could take him in hand-to-hand combat.
But then the man pulled out a gun and pushed it into Cass’s ribs, causing her to scream in pain. “Put down your gun or she’s dead.”
Zane wasn’t playing this game. Not with his partner and friend’s life. There would be no bartering. Yes, it would be nice to take this guy alive and interrogate him, but Cass’s life was the most important thing to him.
“You’re going to kill me anyway.” Cass’s eyes widened in fear. She was trying to send him a message.
“No. I need you alive. Diego wants to talk to you,” the assailant said.
“Talk about what?” Cass asked with a strained voice.
“Diego isn’t going to rest until he finds the person who killed his brother.”
With that admission, Zane knew he had no other choice. If he laid down his gun, he would most likely be killed, and Cass would be taken and tortured. Something he couldn’t allow under any circumstance. He had to take the shot.
Zane squeezed the trigger twice and hit the assailant in the head.
Cass let out a shriek as the man flopped to the floor. “Zane!”
“I wasn’t going to negotiate with him. I couldn’t let him take you.”
She threw her arms around him, and he pulled her in close. Her body shook in his arms.
“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you now.”
After a moment, she stepped back. “He came out of nowhere.”
Zane squatted down and checked the body for ID, but there was nothing. “Let’s call this in.”
“Zane,” she whispered.
He looked up. “Yes?”
“I think I’m ready for that safe house now.”
Layla and Hunter had just gotten a disturbing call from Zane about an attack at Cass’s place, letting them know she was being moved to a DEA safe house. According to Zane, the man specifically said that Diego wanted to question Cass.
Layla couldn’t dwell on it too much right now. Since Cass was safe, they had other immediate business to attend to.
“We should be there soon,” Hunter said.
Layla had told Hunter about Keith Hammond, and she’d reached out to Keith to set up a meeting. Keith had been friendly enough on the phone, but Layla hadn’t revealed why she wanted to talk to him. He’d probably acted out of professional courtesy, since they were both employed by the Agency.
They’d decided to meet at a coffeehouse in Arlington at nine that evening. Given there was a possibility that Keith was working for the cartel, Layla was glad Hunter was with her. There were no good reasons to play the lone wolf right now. Although it would be nice to get a break in the case, she hoped Keith was clean—it would help restore some of her fragile faith in the Agency and its operatives.
“Let’s talk Keith Hammond,” she said to Hunter, ready to tackle the mission at hand. They’d gotten his file from Mason. She didn’t have full access to CIA files right now, but Mason had been able to go through one of his contacts to get it.
Hunter glanced at her. “He’s been with the Agency for fifteen years. He was recruited right out of college.”
She’d committed Keith’s background to memory. “Fluent in Spanish and Portuguese, he was placed in South America from the get-go and has spent his entire career working in the region—including a long stint in Honduras.”
“Service record is impeccable. He’s received several commendations. No disciplinary actions,” Hunter added.
“Were you able to check his finances?” she asked, always thinking about monetary motive.
“Yes. From what I could find, it all looked good, but someone with his experience and connections could probably do a good job of hiding money if that was the goal.”
“How did your questioning of the other DEA employees go?” Layla asked. He’d conducted several interviews without her.
“Nothing as illuminating as our talk with Darnell. Most people claim to know nothing, and they also have very high opinions of their colleagues.”
“I get that. No one wants to believe that the people they trust and work with every day are playing on the bad guy’s team.”
“I’m sensing a but here,” Hunter said.
“This entire experience has led me to question a lot of my basic assumptions about my work.”
“Pretty soon you’ll be just as cynical as me.”
She smiled. “I sure hope not.”
The tension between them seemed to be easing as the importance of the case was elevated above her feelings about the past—and the present. Although she hated the fact that when she looked at Hunter, she still felt butterflies. Major ones.
It reminded her of when she had first met him at law school orientation. They’d locked eyes, and she just knew she had to meet him. When he’d introduced himself and they found out they were in the same section of classes, it was like her world was falling into place. Even after everything they’d gone through and the pain he had caused her, he still affected her like no other man ever had.
“Here we are.” Hunter pulled up and found a metered parking spot on the street.
She pointed. “I see Hammond waiting outside.” She recognized him from his file.
They got out of Hunter’s SUV and started walking toward the coffee shop. As they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street, a car whizzed by them.
Layla had taken one step into the crosswalk when gunshots pierced the night.
She started running
