Chapter 15 #2
Jack took Tommy’s place in the passenger seat. “Keep going, down one more level.” Kyle took the next two right turns, heading them deeper beneath the courthouse. “There.” Jack pointed to where Ernie Hernandez waited by the elevator, holding the doors open.
Kyle parked and shut off the engine. Deke’s SUV rolled to a stop beside him. “Let’s go,” he threw over his shoulder, shoving open his door. Even within the seemingly safe bowels of the courthouse, he wanted to get Victoria and his witness into a holding room, guarded by his entire team ASAP.
On the other side of the SUV, Jack and Deke ushered Alyona into the elevator. Kyle clasped Victoria’s arm, glancing over his shoulder and inserting his body between hers and anyone behind them. Their bodies were so close, her hair tickled his chin.
“I’m right behind you, Aly,” she called out. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Kyle hoped that was really true.
Luck hadn’t been with them when they’d drawn Judge Whittaker.
Whittaker was fair to a fault and didn’t believe in exceptions to a defendant’s Sixth Amendment right to face and cross-examine witnesses against them in person.
AUSA Washington’s request to have Alyona testify remotely had been flatly declined.
As long as Alyona stayed inside the courthouse, she’d be safe.
When the elevator doors closed, Victoria rested her hands on Aly’s shaking shoulders.
“Look at me,” she said in a soothing voice.
“You’re going to be fine. You’ll be safe here with all these agents protecting you.
Take a deep breath in, and let it out.” Alyona did, and her trembling began to ease. “There you go. You’ve got this.”
Though he had no right to think it, he was proud of Victoria and the gutsy woman she’d become. In the face of danger yet again, her first thought was for his witness.
When Victoria’s worried gaze met his, it was all he could do not to take her in his arms and hold her tightly, to feel her living, breathing body against his. Whether that was to comfort her or him, he wasn’t quite sure.
He inserted the earpiece back into his ear, then clicked the mic at his shirtsleeve. “We’re inside. ETA in three.”
Malik Jefferson, one of many agents he’d requested for this protection detail, replied, “Copy that.”
“Another shooting, bro?” Jack arched a brow.
Deke snorted. “Morrison’s gonna have a coronary.”
“Yeah. He will.” His boss had forced him to sit through an agency-required post-shooting wellness session over the weekend, then gotten the shooting review board to clear him in record time for the trial. At least for this shooting, he’d never even drawn his weapon.
The elevator whooshed them to a floor of the building that could only be accessed by law enforcement and other authorized personnel who’d undergone extensive background checks.
There’d be no chance of crossing paths with the media or anyone else with an inkling to take out a protected witness.
Despite these precautions, when the elevator came to a stop, Kyle said, “Wait here.” He stepped into the gray hallway and looked both ways. “Follow me.”
Leading the way, he walked them through a maze of deserted corridors.
The only sounds came from their booted feet and the women’s heeled shoes.
He clicked the mic. “Malik, we’re on the floor.
Be there in one minute.” Up ahead, Malik and John O’Donnell, the Strike Force team’s tech agent, guarded the door to the holding room.
Malik opened the door, and Kyle stepped aside for Victoria and Alyona.
The white-walled room was sparsely furnished with a small sofa, a rectangular table, and several chairs. A TV monitor took up most of one wall. Victoria led Aly to the sofa and sat beside her.
A cell phone blared. Alyona pulled a phone from her pocket, quickly silencing it.
Kyle narrowed his eyes, a sneaking suspicion taking root. He squatted in front of her. “Alyona, I need to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth.” She swallowed and flicked her gaze to the phone in her hand. “Who have you contacted since you’ve been at the safehouse?”
“No one, I—” She rolled her lips inward. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“Tell me,” he said, gentling his voice. “This is important.” He needed to know if there was a leak in high places. He didn’t think so, but it was an unanswered question that needed to be answered. Before she testified. Her life depended on it.
She took a deep breath. “My mother. I haven’t talked to her in so long. I needed to hear her voice. I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to call anyone, but I had to.” More tears streamed down her face. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please.”
Shit. He hated seeing a woman—any woman—afraid of a man, and right now Alyona was afraid of him.
As if sensing his dilemma, Victoria intervened. “Aly, look at me.” When she did, Victoria gave her an encouraging nod. “Did you tell your mother where you were staying?”
“Not the address.” She gulped. “Just the town, so she’d know where I was and that I was okay.”
“Thank you for being honest.” She clasped Aly’s hand. “I know that was hard.”
Jack frowned. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah.” Kyle nodded. He and his brothers were always on the same security-oriented wavelength.
Not wanting to add to the stress Alyona was already under, Kyle indicated Ernie and Malik should follow him into the hallway.
“Ernie, get the Jersey City PD to do a wellness check on Alyona’s mother, Polina Volkov.
” To Malik, he said, “Get another team of agents out there to find out who she talked to. Tell them to get her consent to sweep the house for listening devices.”
Malik nodded, pulling a phone from his belt. “Will do.”
“You got it.” Ernie also tugged out his phone.
Back in the room, Kyle said in the gentlest tone he could muster, “Alyona, we’ll make sure your mother’s okay, but you can’t tell anyone else where you are.
” She nodded. “The Bratva are dangerous people. You know that.” He met Victoria’s gaze, sending her a silent message: Alyona wasn’t the only one in danger.
“I’m afraid,” Alyona said, looking at Victoria and squeezing her hand.
“I know you are,” she answered. “It’s okay to be afraid. That doesn’t mean you don’t have the courage to do this, and you’ve come so far. Say it: I can do this.”
Alyona nodded. “I can do this.” She smiled back and sat up straighter, as if drawing strength from Victoria’s words and emotional support.
“Let’s get you out of these vests,” Kyle said.
Jack’s phone buzzed, and he stepped into the hallway.
Deke began unstrapping the vest from Alyona.
Kyle did the same for Victoria, opening the straps at her waist and feeling the warmth of her body seep into his fingertips.
Her chest rose and fell faster as he tugged open one of the shoulder straps and slipped off the vest. When she swallowed and licked her lips, the impulse to kiss her welled up inside him.
Across the room, Deke watched, one brow arched.
“Is everyone all right?” Greg Washington asked from the doorway. “I heard you had trouble on the way in.”
“You could say that.” Kyle took a much-needed step back and dropped the vest onto a chair. “A reception party was waiting for us on the Turnpike.”
Washington hitched his chin to Alyona. “How did they know where she was?”
“Fill you in later,” Kyle said. “Don’t worry. There’s no leak we need to worry about.”
Jack returned. “State troopers arrested five guys, all reputed Bratva.”
Washington didn’t look happy. “At least you got her here, and she’s safe.”
Kyle’s stomach tightened, because he knew better than to make assumptions.
Between the FBI, the U.S. Marshals, and courthouse security, they had eyes inside and outside. No one could get to Alyona with a weapon, but this wouldn’t be over until after she testified and was ensconced in another safehouse. Until then, he’d never assume she was safe.
A voice crackled in his earpiece—one of the deputy marshals stationed outside. “Guys, we’ve got Bratva everywhere waiting to get in.” The government had a small army in place to defend Alyona Kolbayev, yet Kyle had a sinking feeling it wasn’t enough.
“I’m going upstairs,” he said to his brothers. “Stay here.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jack asked.
Kyle shook his head. “Aside from hitting the marshals and Morrison up for more agents, I have no idea.” He yanked open the door and stormed down the hall, his shoes echoing on the tile floor.
Intercepting them enroute to the courthouse had failed—barely—and the only weapons inside the building were on the hips of armed federal law enforcement officers. As sure as he was breathing, he’d bet the Bratva had a backup plan.
At the elevator, he punched the up button. Could Lebedev’s or Kolbayev’s men have gotten to someone who worked here, paid them to smuggle a gun inside? It had happened before, in other courthouses across the country.
The elevator door opened, and Kyle hit the button for street level. If he couldn’t figure out what they were planning, in a few hours the Daniel Patrick Moynihan Federal Courthouse could become a war zone.
He’d planned this day for months. Everyone would be in place.
His brothers, plus Ernie, John, and Malik in the rear of the courtroom, two other teams of agents planted in the gallery benches.
More U.S. Marshals, Federal Protective Service, and agents would be stationed in the adjacent hallway, at the main entrance, and outside surrounding the entire building.
That didn’t stop his guts from chanting out a never-ending warning that it still wouldn’t be enough.
Something else was coming. Something he couldn’t predict. Whatever it was, it would be bad, and people would die.