Chapter 9
Talking to the enemy.
The phrase echoed in Cassie’s mind as she and Lane made their way up to Drake’s room. As much as she wanted to deny it, the facts backed up the words. Her partner had been seen chatting up Greenlee. Mere hours before Josie went missing. And last night he’d been terrified that Greenlee was coming to kill him.
“Is that black and white outlook a permanent thing?” she asked Lane when they stepped out of the elevator on Drake’s floor.
He took her hand, as if they walked together like this all the time. “Plenty of gray areas in the world.”
“I agree. But you called Greenlee the enemy.”
Lane pulled up short, abruptly turning down a different hallway. He pressed a finger to his lips when she started to ask questions.
She hushed, wondering what had spooked him.
“Police,” he whispered. “Plainclothes. Feds, maybe.”
That was a new development and the last thing she’d expected. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. Still holding her hand, he kept moving, leading her further from Drake’s room. She didn’t want to get caught up in another legal issue, but she wasn’t leaving this hospital without talking to her partner.
They reached a sunny room with big windows all the way across one wall with a jaw-dropping view. Chairs were clustered in small groups throughout the long room along with a few tables. A shelving unit on the far wall held books and games and there was a table with a checkerboard set up and another with an unfinished puzzle.
“Greenlee took aim and fired on us. In my book that makes him an enemy,” Lane said.
Seemed rude to argue with that logic while his fingers circled the faint burn on her upper arm from the bullet that had nearly hit her.
Lane’s assessment put Greenlee in the bad-guy column regardless of whether or not he was still tied to Welker Specialists. She needed to keep an open mind. It would be silly to underestimate any leads Drake might provide.
“Good point,” she allowed.
It was never smart to assume full understanding of a problem. In this instance, she didn’t have a clear motive for the ambush. Neither did the agency. Which was why she needed to talk to her partner.
Continuing on through the bright lounge, she realized they were circling around and would approach Drake’s room from the opposite end of the hallway. “Why are we sneaking around? We have every right to be here.”
“True. But something feels off. I expected to see the same cops who visited us. I want to know who these guys are and why they posted a guard to watch the elevator. If we can get close enough, maybe we’ll overhear something helpful before we’re noticed.”
She was on board for more intel. Mentally, she crossed her fingers that his idea would work. Lane peered around the corner, then strolled forward. The guard in front of Drake’s room had his back to them, completely focused on the activity near the elevator.
The ward was bustling and, compared to last night, it was as if someone had cranked up the volume to ten. Between the many voices and machines, it would be impossible to eavesdrop.
Lane seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Plan B?”
“If that means walking right in like we own the place, let’s go.”
He smiled. “Great minds think alike.”
Giving her hand a squeeze, he released her. She didn’t have time to miss his touch as he placed that same hand at the small of her back. This wasn’t normal for her. Most of the time, she craved more personal space, not less. On the rare times she dated, she knew she came across as standoffish. At work, she wouldn’t tolerate this contact at all, unless an undercover op demanded the appearance of intimacy. In fact, she couldn’t imagine a situation where she wouldn’t shy away from close contact. Yet here she was, wondering what it was about Lane that made her want to snuggle up and stay there.
Further analysis had to wait. Their approach had drawn attention. Both the guard outside the door and a man just inside Drake’s room had spotted them.
The man inside stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. He was big and broad with long dark hair and island tribal tattoos on his forearms. “No visitors.”
“I’m his sister,” Cassie said, but the fib didn’t work this morning.
“We know better, ma’am.” He glared at Lane. “You got something to add?”
“Drake’s a good friend. Is he in some kind of legal trouble?” Lane queried, acting concerned and innocent. Beside her, he seemed utterly relaxed. “If so, shouldn’t he have a lawyer present?”
“This isn’t your business.”
“Oh, that sounds like a ‘yes’ to me.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I know who to call.”
She was mostly bluffing. The Guardian Agency was surely aware of whatever was going on. But the big guy shifted on his feet. “Just be patient. You can talk to him when we’re done.”
She wanted to get inside that room. Now, not later. She was positive Lane wanted the same thing. “Drake shouldn’t be alone.” She spoke loudly, hoping Drake would hear her.
The big man glared down at her, looming closer. “When. We’re. Done.”
Lane moved and Cassie suddenly found herself tucked at his back. “You don’t want to threaten her,” he warned. His body was primed and ready for a fight. There was nothing laid back or easygoing about him now.
For a moment, she worried he would start something, but she should’ve known better. Lane had proven time and again that he was steady when it mattered most.
The big guy withdrew, refusing to look at them, but continued standing firmly in their path. By some tacit agreement, she and Lane retreated to the opposite side of the hall, staying out of the way, while remaining close to Drake’s room. Trusting Lane to keep watch, she messaged Claudia about this latest wrinkle.
She received an immediate assurance that the interview was above board and Swann and Gamble were aware of the situation. Tilting her screen to share the news with Lane, his eyebrows furrowed. His perplexed expression mirrored her own feelings.
Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like hours, before the door finally swung open. The big guard moved with surprising quickness to clear the path for a man and woman to exit. She immediately agreed with Lane’s assessment about plainclothes, possibly federal, officers. Dressed in loose linen shirts and khakis, there was no way to determine what law enforcement agency they represented. That didn’t give her any comfort as the team of four marched away.
“Our turn,” she said, taking Lane’s hand and crossing the hall.
When she saw Drake, tears filled her eyes. He looked worse today instead of better. Pale under the bruises, she was sure the meeting hadn’t helped matters. Her heart swelled. This man was her partner. Her friend. If he’d made mistakes, she’d deal with the fallout. She wouldn’t write him off until she had a damn good reason.
And proof. Acres of proof.
“You weren’t ready for that, were you?” she asked from the foot of the bed. After last night’s close call, she wouldn’t move closer.
“Go away, Cass.” He rolled to his side, letting out a pained groan. “Stay out of this.”
“I will,” she promised. Just as soon as she understood what “this” was. “How about you take a nap? We’ll keep watch for you.”
“You’re relentless,” Drake grumbled without looking at her.
She didn’t need to make eye contact to see that something was taking a toll on him. Shame or guilt, she wanted to be sure. “Thanks.”
“Wasn’t a compliment.”
“It is if I want it to be.” She glanced back over her shoulder and found Lane propping up the door. She wasn’t sure Drake realized she wasn’t here alone. “Go to sleep. I won’t let anyone disturb you.”
“Stop being nice to me. This isn’t your problem anymore.”
That raised red flags, but she didn’t reply, determined to match his stubbornness. Moving around the bed, she sat down in the chair, stifling the cringe over his battered face. He glared at her through swollen eyes. “Why would Greenlee want you dead?”
“Leave.” He sounded exhausted. “Please.”
At the door, Lane tapped his wrist.
She’d much rather give Drake time to recuperate. “Let me help you. What did the feds want?”
He cleared his throat. “You don’t know?—”
“Give me some credit, Drake.” She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “You like the Knowles. You wouldn’t betray me. And you would never—never—put Josie, or any other kid, in danger. Loop me in. What did they want?”
“The little things.” He adjusted the pillow under his cheek. “They weren’t random.”
Not a direct answer. They’d both been irritated with those incidents that made them look like below-average bodyguards. She waited through his spate of coughing. Breathing seemed to pain him. “Broken ribs?”
He nodded. With an effort, he pressed the button that elevated his head. She moved to help with the pillow this time. Spotting Lane at the door, Drake swore.
“You don’t have the energy to be annoyed with anyone. Not even yourself,” she said. “Did you forget Lane saved your life?”
“I remember.”
“Good.” She took pity on him. “If you suspected Greenlee, why didn’t you tell me?”
“The association is embarrassing,” he said. “Stupid mistake years ago.” He shifted with an effort. “Guardian Agency gave me a second chance.”
“They’re good at that.” She smiled down at her friend. “Tell me the rest.”
“There was never any proof, Cass. I noticed him and assumed the worst.”
“Rightly so,” Lane interjected. He pointed to the clock on the wall. “We’re running out of time. The nurse will give us the boot when she comes around again.”
Drake grunted. “Short version.” He struggled through another cautious breath. “I tried to get Greenlee to confide in me and it backfired. My plan all along was to tell you and the bosses, as soon as we reached Hawaii.”
“What changed your mind?” she asked.
“Welker Specialists. I didn’t know Greenlee was with them. You have to believe me.” His gaze pleaded for understanding. Forgiveness. “They want the Knowles job.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “When Greenlee showed up here, I knew I’d waited too long. He had a plan, but he didn’t tell me what it was. Just that he’d pin the blame on us, and then Welker would swoop in to save the day.”
Lane gripped the panel at the end of the bed. “You agreed to let them terrorize Josie?”
She didn’t appreciate the interruption, though she could hardly fault him for demanding an answer to the question that was at the forefront of her mind.
“Hell, no.” Drake shook his head. “No. I had no idea he’d do that.”
“It’s okay.” Cassie rested a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you.”
“Seriously?” Lane gaped at her. “I don’t believe a word of this.” He glared at Drake. “That girl barely got away from Greenlee and his pals. They wanted you dead, I assume to guarantee your silence. They tried to kill Cassie. You will keep talking. You owe her that much.”
Was this some good cop, bad cop routine? This was no way to treat her partner, a man she’d relied on for months. He’d never let her down. Until yesterday. She expected the feds had bullied him earlier and she didn’t want to pile on.
“Maybe you should wait in the hall,” she suggested to Lane.
He shook his head, his lips in a hard line. “I’m good right here.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“It doesn’t matter.” Drake scrubbed at his face. “You rescued Josie and the family is safe. Greenlee can’t cause more trouble. The feds are on it now.”
“Why?” Cassie and Lane demanded at the same time.
Drake sputtered, his gaze darting from her to Lane and back again. “I don’t know. Not all of it. They must’ve been watching Welker for a while. That’s all I got out of their visit. Let them do their thing.”
“Give me something, Drake.” She couldn’t expect him to be at his best when he was struggling to recover, but she needed more information. Details to explain the ambush and the break in at her room. “Who was Greenlee working with? I’ll talk to Gamble and Swann for you.”
“Already talked with them.” Tears leaked from Drake’s eyes. “Nurse brought in a phone before the feds showed up. I told them you had no idea what I was trying to accomplish.”
She fumed, struggling to hide her reaction. This was not how it was supposed to work. She was the lead—he should’ve brought his suspicions to her. Well, she had one likely answer. Swann had relieved her from the Knowles assignment because she’d been too ignorant to figure out that her partner was up to something.
“Cassie, you need to go.”
Fine. “We’re leaving.” She couldn’t look at him.
“Watch your back,” Drake said.
She stalked out of the room.
“You too.” Lane said the words she couldn’t.
He caught up with her at the elevator. She jabbed the call button repeatedly. “That’s done then,” she muttered. “Between the feds and our bosses, Drake has all the protection he needs.”
“All right.” Lane tucked his hands in his pockets. “And you have me. No one has to split focus.”
“Right,” she replied through gritted teeth. She should be happier about Lane’s commitment to her safety. She was. Lane was definitely on her side. He had no skin in the game. “Thank you.”
She heard him chuckle and whipped around. “You’re laughing?”
“Only because you’re so pissed.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Looks good on you.”
“We didn’t learn anything useful.”
“I disagree. Your partner?—”
“Former partner.” She’d never work with Drake again. Her trust in him had been shattered. “He should have come to me.”
Her chest ached, as if a vine was cinching her ribcage, making it harder and harder to breathe. This was not the time or place to have her abandonment issues rearing up and trashing her concentration. Recognizing the escalating sensation only made matters worse. In therapy, she’d been told that understanding where it was coming from was a healthy step forward and gave her room to cope and grow.
This didn’t feel like growth. Felt more like hell. Her parents had been jerked out of her life by chance, not choice. Drake had made bad choices that severed a bond she valued. Tears she couldn’t let fall stung her eyes. Her self-control was disintegrating.
“He was right beside me the whole time.” She wanted to pummel something. Someone. Except Greenlee had beat her to it and the medical team would frown on her adding to Drake’s injuries. “I look like an idiot.”
“No, you don’t.” Lane drew her into a hug. “Breathe,” he urged. “You’re furious. It’ll fade.”
She wasn’t so sure about that, even as she welcomed the comfort Lane offered. A little voice in her head wondered how long he’d stick around. Why would he stick at all? She couldn’t expect him to shadow her forever. She didn’t even want that.
“When it fades,” Lane continued, “you’ll realize that the feds are using your partner to get a line on Welker.”
She jerked away, her gaze narrowing as she studied him. “You knew who I was talking about last night.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t. Waylen sent me some intel this morning.”
“Great.” She sagged back against the elevator wall. “So I guess that leaves me in Hawaii without a job.”
“I can teach you how to vacation like it’s your job,” he offered.
“Funny.” They exited the elevator and aimed for the parking lot.
“I’m not joking.” He stepped closer, his palm hovering at her low back. “I’ve had months to perfect my process.”
His lighthearted tone didn’t match the sudden uptick in tension. “What’s wrong?”
“Not sure yet.”
His jaw was tight. “Are you creating an excuse to touch me?”
“Never.” He gave a small shake of his head and his mouth twitched, but his attention was elsewhere. “Greenlee and Drake had some kind of history the feds want to use,” he said. “Until someone explains that threatening photo of you, I won’t rest easy.”
Crap. She was off her game. She’d forgotten about the photo and the stolen laptop. “We should?—”
An explosion cut her off. She turned toward the sound and saw a dark plume of smoke rising from what had been a trash can. She started forward, her natural instinct to help, but Lane shoved her down between two parked cars. She landed hard, the pavement biting into her hands and knees.
“Run!”
She stared back at Lane and held her ground, though he frantically waved her off.
Even if she could force herself to leave him, where did he think she’d go?