Chapter Seventeen
Bitterroot Falls
Glancing around behind her, making sure her face was visible to the security cameras, Christina finished her transaction at the self-service kiosk.
She’d used cash to pay for her ticket on the eight o’clock Greyhound bus from Bitterroot Falls to Whitefish, which was only sixty miles from the Canada–USA border.
Grabbing the ticket and putting it in the same jacket pocket as the gun, she spun around and headed for the door.
She tugged the hood of the insulated jacket down over her hair and lowered her head as she went two doors down to the café.
Inside, Waylon was seated at a table and Charlie Killian-Yazzie was at the counter.
Killian-Yazzie wanted in on the action if it meant taking down the man who had injured her husband.
Jackson trusted her with their rogue plan, and no one could deny that having a SOG member on the team was a good thing.
Waylon and Killian-Yazzie were the only two Alvaro wouldn’t recognize. They had ordered and were eating.
Christina slipped into a booth near the back, close to the restrooms. She sat next to the window and scanned outside. Winter, Chance and Declan were still hung up at DCI. The rest of the team was divided between two vehicles. Jackson, Eli and Autumn in one. In the other were Bo and Takoda.
They had eyes on her, but she couldn’t see any of them. Which was the point. Since they didn’t want Aguilar to spot them, the team was vigilant, staying out of view of all cameras: traffic, CCTV, ATMs, and any store surveillance.
A waitress came over and set down a menu. “What can I get you?”
“Cheeseburger and fries,” Christina said.
“Anything to drink or just water?”
The idea that this might be her last meal occurred to her. “Can I get a chocolate milkshake?”
“Sure thing.” The waitress picked up the menu. “It’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Christina shoved her hood back. “No rush. I’m going to be here a while.”
“Is someone joining you?”
That was the plan. “I’m waiting on the eight o’clock bus to Whitefish.”
“Oh.” The waitress nodded. “You’re welcome to hang out here as long as you like. People do it all the time.”
“Thanks,” Christina said, and the woman went to put her order in.
Someone from the team had already called the special tip hotline set up for the manhunt and reported seeing her at the Greyhound bus station.
Between that and the high likelihood Alvaro was using a facial recognition program to locate her and others from the team, she anticipated that he would reach her before any cops did.
He had an uncanny way of tracking people down.
No doubt he would have found her eventually, even if she hadn’t been wearing the smart ring yesterday.
The waitress brought her milkshake and food.
Looking around the café every so often, she didn’t let her gaze linger on either Killian-Yazzie or Waylon. The former was chatting up the waitress while picking at her food. The latter ordered a piece of pie and got a refill on his coffee.
Christina nibbled on her food, biding her time, but inhaled half her milkshake.
There were only a handful of other patrons. No one was in a hurry, and that made it easy to linger without standing out.
Her fries had grown cold, and the waitress had poured her a cup of coffee, removing the empty milkshake glass. She started to wonder if she’d have to actually get on the bus to Whitefish that would be leaving in an hour and wait to be intercepted on the route.
A strong hand curled on her shoulder. She turned to see Alvaro standing beside her booth, wearing a black cowboy hat and leather gloves. He must’ve sneaked in through a rear entrance and come up behind her.
“Get up and hug me,” he said, and when that deep, coarse voice hit Christina, her body froze, her gaze glued to his. “Now.”
She blinked up at him, shaking off the momentary paralysis.
Slowly, she scooted out of the booth and stood on shaky legs.
Wrapping her arms around him in an embrace, she faced the restaurant and could see the others.
Killian-Yazzie glanced at her once, but Waylon pretended not to look in her direction at all.
The plan was for Jackson, Eli and Autumn to be in the first car to follow them.
Waylon, Takoda, Killian-Yazzie and Bo would be in a second vehicle that would tag team with Jackson’s, taking turns, so that one car wouldn’t be spotted tailing her.
Alvaro’s arms closed around Christina, but not in a hug. His hands slid over her body, checking her. He took the gun from her jacket pocket and shoved it into his.
The team had expected him to find the gun since the bulge was obvious. But she still had two more weapons on her. A knife and a Kubotan—a pointed, pocket-sized rod with spikes.
He fished out money and dropped cash on the table, more than enough to cover her bill plus a generous tip.
The waitress spotted them and came over. “Hey, are you leaving so soon? I thought you were waiting for the bus to Whitefish.”
Smiling, Alvaro curled an arm around Christina’s waist, bringing her close to him.
“Not anymore.” She forced herself to grin. “I’ve got a ride.”
“I couldn’t let my girl take Greyhound,” Alvaro said, letting that charismatic side shine through.
“Besides, we have some unresolved things to sort out before I can say goodbye. Got to make sure I give you the send-off you deserve.” He kissed her temple.
“I did promise, and I am a man of my word. Right, darling?”
Christina swallowed around the cold lump in her throat. “You always keep your promises.”
“Ah, isn’t that sweet,” the waitress said. “Getting a lift from your fella is better than taking the bus. You’re lucky.”
“Yep.” Christina nodded. “Lucky me.”
Keeping his arm around her, Alvaro led her to the door and shoved through it outside. He hauled her to the passenger’s side of his SUV. “Take off the jacket.”
“What? Why?”
“Take it off or I do it for you.”
A sour taste filled her mouth. She shrugged out of the jacket like he told her to do.
He snatched it from her hand and threw it to the ground.
She stared at the jacket that had the Kubotan hidden inside the lining. Now she only had one weapon left.
Alvaro forced her into the passenger seat. Locked the door. Hurried around the front, his head on a swivel checking the area. Climbed in and cranked the engine.
Opening the center console, he took out a pair of handcuffs. He slapped one cuff on her left wrist and the other to his right, locking her to him. “Anywhere you go, I go,” he growled. “These cuffs aren’t coming off until you’re dead. Got it?”
There would be no running from him. No chance for her to escape.
Taking a deep breath, she focused on the silver lining. Her right hand was free, the one she needed to reach her last weapon.
“You did a bad thing this morning.” Alvaro zoomed out of the parking lot. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?”
“I have some idea.”
“Really.” He turned the steering wheel, making a hard right, and tugging on her arm that was shackled to his. “Well, take what you think you know and multiply it tenfold.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Clever of you to have a backup to the backup of the surveillance footage.”
The higher-level mole had told him about it. She restrained any reaction, didn’t even glance at him.
“After I’m done with you, I’m going after your friends.
I won’t stop there either. I’m going to kill them and their families,” he said, and she steeled herself against his scorched-earth tone.
“If Rio hadn’t already decided that you die today in Missoula, I’d save you for last. Make you watch what I’m going to do them and then deal with you.
But I want you to know that I’m going to hurt your Boy Scout the worst. Do you understand? ”
Alvaro was precariously close to the edge. So close to losing his temper completely, an event that rarely happened and always left bloody bodies in his wake.
“Answer me!” he snapped, his eyes gleaming with rage.
She took a deep breath as he got on US Highway 93, headed south to Missoula.
“I ran from them to keep them safe,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I didn’t show anyone the footage. There’s no need—”
He banged his left fist on the steering wheel. “As if I can believe one word out of your lying mouth.”
Christina closed her eyes and saw Jackson’s face, recalled the scent of him, the warmth of his body pressed against her, the way it had felt to make love to him one last time.
Her one regret was not telling him she still loved him.
How do we beat him without losing you?
Resisting the concern in his eyes, she had told Jackson what he needed to hear, and the team had come up with a solid plan.
They couldn’t take the chance of her having two-way comms but had inserted a tiny, wireless device that was a two-in-one GPS tracker and surveillance microphone—the size of a paper clip—inside the lining of her bra. It only had a battery life of sixteen hours, and she hoped it would be long enough.
Christina was terrified of this. Coming face-to-face with Alvaro once more. He was going to do everything in his power not to let her slip through his grasp again. But Jackson didn’t need the weight of her issues and fears dumped on top of his own.
To be honest, she wasn’t sure if what Jackson wanted was possible—to stop Alvaro and save her.
Maybe the only way to beat him was for her to sacrifice herself.
Outskirts of Missoula
Saturday, April 14, 9:15 p.m.
“OKAY, I’M PULLING BACK,” Bo said over comms. He was several cars ahead with Waylon and Tak. “They’re one mile from the Missoula exit.”
“Roger,” Jackson said, behind the wheel of a Suburban. They each drove a different make and model of vehicle, so as not to alert Aguilar that he was being tailed. Jackson pressed down on the accelerator. “Taking the lead.”