Chapter Twenty-Five
––––––––
A new message from Hawk came through just as Angel got into his car. He’d spent last night in it, sleeping in little snatches in a pullout on the highway. Liana thought he was in Portland on a job for the next few days. He hated leaving her alone for so long, but she’d been in good spirits when he’d spoken to her this morning, and their elderly neighbor across the street was going to check on her.
Possible target address.
He looked it up on a map. It was a condo building just off the coastal highway on the other side of town.
Heading there now , he responded, and started the engine.
It was still early. The traffic was light, but as he drove, he found himself glancing out to sea. The forecasted weather front was already moving in from the west. Overhead, the sky was a solid leaden ceiling of gray, the clouds growing ominously darker on the horizon. Huge waves kicked up by the wind were crested with frothy whitecaps that exploded into tall fans of foam and saltwater when they crashed against the rocky shore.
A strange sense of foreboding grew inside him as he approached the target building. Something about the storm had him on edge.
No one had seen Barros yet, or the woman he’d been with last night. Bristol Moreau. But maybe, if Angel was lucky, there would be some sign or clue about them at this new address. With him and several falcons out hunting Barros right now, it wouldn’t be long before they had a lock on his location.
As he drove along the street the building was on, he scanned all the parked cars for a match with the vehicle Barros had been driving last night, then continued around the block to check the side streets. None of the vehicles he saw matched Barros’s. The underground parking garage to the building was gated and accessible only to someone with the entrance code. He would have to check on foot once he got inside the building.
He parked a block away and walked to it while the rising wind gusted around him, stopping at the front entrance to read the menu board that listed the unit numbers and surnames of the tenants. None of the names matched any of the three he had been given for the construction company that owned the target unit.
But there was one unit on the board without a name, indicating that it was newly available. Exactly as it would be if renovations had just been completed.
That blank space was like an arrow pointing at a bullseye.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, saw a new message from Hawk.
Found suspect vehicle near a marina close to Crimson Point. Called around and a guy matching Barros’s description just showed up there a few minutes ago. They sent this image as he was leaving. Moving in for a closer look.
Angel still hadn’t seen a clear image of Barros. He enlarged the picture showing a thirty-something male with dark hair. The brim of a ballcap shadowed his face. The image was too grainy for him to see any facial features clearly, except that the guy was clean shaven. Barros had been reported as having a goatee last night but could easily have shaved it off.
What was he doing at the marina? He had to either be meeting someone, or looking to escape by water.
Is the woman with him?
No.
Keep me updated , he texted back. Sliding the phone into his pocket, he stepped back to look up at the fourth floor of the building where the unit with the unlisted tenant was located.
There was no point in trying to race to the marina. If the guy there turned out to be Barros, he would probably be long gone by the time Angel got there.
But there might be a way to make Barros come to him.
With any luck, the best chance of making that happen might still be on the fourth floor.
****
T J pulled his hoodie down over the brim of the ballcap to help keep the wind-driven rain out of his face as he strode up the small hill at the edge of the gravel parking lot, heading away from the marina. The storm front had moved in fast on the drive here, the wind gusting hard enough to rock Bristol’s car on the highway. He’d left it parked a couple blocks away and smeared mud over the license plates in case anyone was looking for it.
He still had no idea who this CI was, or if he was walking straight into a trap. His only reassurance was the weight of his weapon against the small of his back, and that his handler was en route with two other people from the Portland office.
No one else knew what he was doing. So if shit went sideways before that, backup was too far away to save his ass.
Once again, he was all on his own.
The stark reality of it hit him in a way it never had before. Until moving to Crimson Point, he’d managed to convince himself that he preferred being alone.
Bristol had changed all that.
The depth of his feelings for her were undeniable, had taken him completely off guard. He hadn’t made any promises to her when he’d left because he didn’t know what the future held, and he refused to lead her on or give her false hope. But seeing her cry for him just before he’d walked out the door...Dammit, he missed her already, and the thought of spending the rest of his life without her was too bleak to contemplate.
He pushed all that aside, going on alert. At the crest of the hill, he paused. A lone figure stood on the other side of the quiet dirt road. Tall, rangy, with a hoodie pulled over his head.
TJ took a cautious look around. It seemed like the guy was alone, but the hilly landscape made it impossible to see where any other potential threats might be hidden. And the telltale tingle at the nape of his neck confirmed that his subconscious sensed something was up.
The guy spotted him, pulled his hands from the front pouch on his hoodie and held them up in front of him, palms out. TJ continued toward him, watching him closely and ready to draw his weapon if the guy made a wrong move.
When he neared the far edge of the road and got close enough to get his first good look at the man’s face through the slanting rain, shock ripped through him.
Holy shit . It was Leandro’s right-hand man.
“You alone?” Jon said.
“Yeah. You?” This was unbelievable. Nobody, not even him, would have guessed someone so high up the chain would be feeding them bits of intel all this time.
Jon nodded, glancing around furtively. “I wasn’t followed, but no guarantee we’re alone out here. Let’s do this fast and go our separate ways.”
“Sounds good. They’ve agreed to a deal for you.”
Jon looked back at him sharply. “And to getting my family set up here?”
“Yeah. Just as long as this isn’t a setup, and the evidence you turn over is legit.”
“Of course, it’s legit,” he snapped, blue eyes shooting sparks. “You think I’d put myself in this position, risking the worst kind of torture and death imaginable by doing this, risk the lives of my family by making shit up?”
“Standard procedure.” Now he was dying to see what the evidence Jon had gathered contained. But that wouldn’t happen until after TJ turned it over to his handler and let the agency do its thing to verify the contents were authentic and useful.
Jon started to reach one hand toward the hoodie’s front pouch. TJ tensed and shifted his stance, his hand reaching toward the small of his back. Jon stilled instantly. “The drive’s in my pocket,” he said.
“Move slow.” TJ’s fingers curled around the grip of his pistol.
Jon slowly reached his hand into the pouch and came up with a thumb drive held in his fingers.
“Is this everything?”
“Yeah. Texts, photos, receipts, video. It’s all there.” He made no move to hand it over. “So what now?”
“You come with me. We meet up with my handler, and you turn yourself over. Once they verify what’s on there...” He nodded toward Jon’s hand. “They’ll start the process rolling to bring your family over.”
Jon’s jaw tensed. For a moment TJ thought he would argue, but then he relented. “Okay.” He handed the memory stick over.
TJ shoved it deep into his right front jeans pocket, the tingle at the back of his neck spreading down between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t see anyone else out there, but he could feel eyes on them.
They both needed to get the hell outta here, fast. “Let’s go.”