Against the Night (34 page)

“Look, just let her go and get out of here,” he said. “By the time the cops get here, you’ll be long gone.”

“Put down the weapon.”

Johnnie shook his head. “Not gonna happen.” If he did, people would be dead. He took another step backward, but kept the intruder in his line of fire. “All I care about is the woman. Just let her go and you’ll have a chance to get away.” Not much of one but he didn’t say that.

The gunman made the mistake of turning his pistol away from Amy and pointing it at Johnnie. Her eyes locked with his an instant before her hands shot out to the side and she slapped her palms hard over the gunman’s ears.

“Fuck!” The man staggered and nearly fell. The women screamed as Amy dropped to the carpet and rolled out of the way. The gunman fired wildly and Johnnie fired back.

One, two, three shots, dead center in the shooter’s chest. The guy crashed backward onto the bedroom floor, twitched a couple of times, then lay still.

Shit.
He needed the bastard alive but the guy hadn’t left him any choice.

The women burst into the bedroom, Hannah rushing to Rachael, Ellie moving quickly toward Amy. Johnnie got to her first, hauled her up from the floor and straight into his arms.

He could feel her trembling. His hold tightened. “Damn, you were good,” he said, and when she gave him a wobbly little smile, he bent his head and kissed her—right there in front of her mother and Ellie. Right there in front of God and the rest of the world and he didn’t give a rat’s ass whether they liked it or not.

Amy was clutching his shoulders when he came up for air. Ellie was giving him that look that said this wasn’t the time, which he ignored.

“I called 9-1-1,” Ellie said. “The police are on the way.”

Johnnie nodded. Amy looked dazed, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders, her robe torn and hanging open, giving him a tantalizing look at her pretty little flowered shortie nightgown. He glanced away

“I—I need to see if Rachael’s all right,” Amy said. She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers gentle against the roughness along his jaw.

Johnnie stepped away, letting her go, though he didn’t really want to.

She straightened her robe, retied the sash and went over to her sister. “Rachael, are you okay?”

Rachael shook her head, her cheeks wet with tears. “No…but…but I will be. I just…I need a minute.”

Her mother gave Rachael a heart-wrenching glance and turned her attention to Amy. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

“I’m okay, Mom. A little shaky, but I’m okay.”

Johnnie thought she was more than a little shaky. The guy had knocked the crap out of her. He hadn’t missed the bruise blooming on her cheek, figured she’d be stiff and sore all over by morning.

His jaw tightened. He wanted to shoot the prick all over again.

Instead, as the echo of sirens drew near, he took a deep breath and went over to the intruder. A quick search of his pockets gave up a pack of Camels and a Bic cigarette lighter. No ID, no wallet, no cell phone. A silver money clip held a wad of hundred dollar bills, partial payment for the hit, Johnnie figured.

He lifted up the ski mask. Lifeless brown eyes stared back at him. White guy in his thirties, earrings in his ears. He tugged the mask a little higher, saw the guy’s head was shaved. A skinhead. He’d been thinking gangbanger, someone Ortega’s people might have on the payroll. Nothing about this case made sense.

He made a quick check for tats, saw nothing but a couple of generic lightning bolts, dragons and skulls and the rest of the usual bullshit all over his neck and arms, probably under his T-shirt.

Police cars were careening up the drive. Ellie must have opened the gate because they came roaring up to the house.

Digging his tiny LED light out of his pocket, he took off down the hill before they reached the front door. He needed to find out how the guy had gotten up to the house, probably climbed up from the road below. The only fence was a five-footer that separated the house from the neighbor’s property, and there wasn’t any perimeter alarm system.

He’d been hounding Ellie to upgrade the fifteen-year-old system inside the house. Maybe now she’d listen. Course, he couldn’t say much since he didn’t have an alarm system on his place, either.

He continued on down the hill, hoping to find the guy’s car, find something inside that could identify the shooter. Picking his way between rocks and shrubs, he made his way to the road below. Of course, the guy could have had an accomplice who had already fled the scene, but Johnnie didn’t think so.

In the bushes along the winding street, he found what he was looking for. Harley-Davidson. Expensive custom job, blue and silver with skulls and dragons in the design work. Whoever did the painting was good. Real good. And that kind of talent could be tracked. He dug out his cell phone, flashed his light on the fuel tank, and snapped a couple of photos.

A black leather saddlebag hung across the back of the bike. Inside he found a wallet and extra ammunition. The driver’s license gave the name Wes Henley with a home address in Anaheim. His cell was in the pouch. Johnnie was only interested in the calls received since they brought Rachael back to the States but the list was too long to check. The police would run the numbers. He’d get Vega to find out if anything turned up.

He looked at the recent calls made. The last two went to the same number. He hit the redial button, heard the sound of a young woman’s voice on the other end. Girlfriend, he figured and mentally stored the number.

Johnnie headed back up the hill. The cops wouldn’t be happy if they knew he had tampered with a crime scene, which they’d figure out if they ran the wallet or phone for prints, which they probably wouldn’t since the info they needed was all right there. In the meantime, he had something to go on, something that could lead him to the man or men who wanted Rachael Brewer dead.

If he was lucky, he’d also find the why.

Amy sat next to her sister at the round, glass-topped table in Ellie’s kitchen. It was still dark outside, but the first faint light of dawn had begun to purple the horizon. Ellie was brewing a second pot of coffee, its bracing aroma filling the air. Police still swarmed the house, which was now a homicide crime scene.

The cops had found the motorcycle parked below the house so they knew the assailant’s name, something Johnnie had already discovered. Being a homicide detective with the Hollywood police department, Rick Vega was working the case. He had arrived on the scene just minutes after the police cars starting rolling up the driveway.

“I heard the call on my scanner,” he explained to Rachael as he sat down in a chair beside her. “When I recognized the address, I knew it had to be you and it scared the hell out of me. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Rachael’s eyes filled. “I wish I could have done something. When Amy screamed, I was so scared I could barely move. I didn’t even try to help her. If she hadn’t gone after that man—”

“Easy…” Rick reached over and caught Rachael’s hand. “You’ve already been through more than most people endure in a lifetime. You can’t expect to be thinking clearly right now.”

“Detective Vega’s right,” Amy said softly. “You’ve suffered a terrible trauma. When that man came after you, part of you was reliving what happened before.”

Johnnie walked up just then, apparently finished giving his statement to the police. He pulled out a chair, spun it around and sat down facing the table. “Rachael’s going to need protection,” he said flatly. “After what happened tonight, until we figure out how she was involved with Ortega, her life is clearly in danger.”

Vega blew out a breath. “I thought with that scum out of the way, she’d be okay. Obviously I was wrong.”

“You weren’t alone,” Johnnie said darkly. “We need a safe house. Someplace we can watch her 24/7.”

Vega shook his head. “I’ve already talked to the department. They aren’t convinced the abduction and what happened tonight are connected.”

“What? That’s crazy. Of course they’re connected. Ortega abducts Rachael to get her out of the way. Now she’s back and someone’s trying to kill her. I figure she knows something—something she doesn’t remember. They want to make sure she forgets—permanently.”

A chill slipped down Amy’s spine. She thought of that night on the island, the sort of men they were dealing with. Ruthless men who would stop at nothing to protect their own interests.

“I think people in the department are pissed the DEA left them out of the loop,” Vega said. “They’re saying Wes Henley has a history of using and selling. They’re working on the theory it was just a drug-related burglary gone bad.”

“That’s so much crap and you know it.”

“We both know it, but it’s not going to change anything. Maybe the DEA will step in.”

Amy’s eyes found Johnnie’s. She knew he could read the worry in her face.

“I’ll talk to Wheeler, see what he can do.”

The coffeepot chimed, signaling the pot was done brewing. Ellie poured a mug and set it in front of the detective, who wrapped his fingers around it.

“In the meantime,” Vega said, “who besides us knew Rachael was staying here?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been asking myself.” Johnnie leaned back as Ellie bent over to refill his mug with some of the fresh-made brew. “People at the hospital knew. We used Ellie’s address on the release forms. Wheeler knew. He talked to her here a couple of times.”

“So did several people in the department,” Rick said, “including me.”

“It wouldn’t be hard to figure. I talked to Tate Watters. He knows I’ve been seeing Amy. Guessing Rachael was here wouldn’t be much of a stretch.”

“You think Watters is involved?”

“Not likely. He’s a straight shooter, always has been.”

“What you’re saying is it could be anyone.”

Johnnie took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Rachael stared into her untouched cup. “I wish I could remember. Every time I try, my mind just shuts down.”

Vega took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I don’t want you to worry. I promised you we’d figure this out. I gave you my word. What happened doesn’t change that. It just means we have to move faster.”

Rachael looked into his eyes. “I believe you. I don’t know why, but I trust you.” Something passed between them, something Amy could almost feel.

Vega squeezed Rachael’s hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Rachael. I swear it.”

And Amy thought that whatever undercurrents were moving between them, Rick Vega would lay down his life for her sister.

Thirty-One

Johnnie talked to Special Agent Wheeler early that morning about arranging DEA protection. If Rachael’s memory came back, she could be a valuable asset in a grand jury investigation into the drug smuggling operation formerly run by Carlos Ortega.

Or at least that was the premise Wheeler had used to get the okay.

And after the attack last night, it was beginning to look like a real possibility.

Rachael knew something.

Unfortunately, even she didn’t know what it was.

The bad news was the agency’s budget was stretched way too thin. Without any solid way to justify the expense, the DEA could only offer protection for a limited time. Unless Rachael’s memory returned, unless she could provide some kind of evidence against Ortega’s organization, two, maybe three days was all Wheeler could guarantee.

They needed to act fast, needed a lead to follow that would break the case open.

Johnnie looked past the agent with the pale complexion and receding hairline. Along with Wheeler, another two agents were there at Ellie’s house, sitting in a big black SUV, ready to drive Rachael and her family to the DEA safe house. As the ladies rolled their luggage down the front steps toward the car, Wheeler walked over to load their bags into the back. One of the agents got out to help.

Johnnie’s gaze swung to Amy. He figured this would pretty much be the end for them. Ever since the night of the shooting he had tried to steel himself. Unfortunately, from the dark mood he found himself in this morning, he knew it hadn’t worked. He watched her now, wondering what he could possibly say that would let her know how special she was to him. He was surprised to see her tugging her little rolling bag past the other women over to where he stood.

With her hair swinging loose around her shoulders and a soft smile on her face, she looked so damn pretty his chest tightened. Even with the bruise on her cheek, she was beautiful. He straightened, worked to slow the painful thudding of his heart.

“So I guess this is goodbye,” he said with a slight catch in his voice, “at least for a while.”

Amy just smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. Mom’s going with Rachael. She’s been telling her things about her life, trying to help her remember. She’ll make sure Rachael’s okay. We talked it over this morning and since no one’s trying to shoot me, I’m not going with them.”

Worry filtered through him. “You need to go to the safe house, baby.”

“I’m not the one in danger.”

“Probably not, but—”

“If I stay, I can help. And don’t say I can’t. I found the island, didn’t I? I did the ear thing last night. I can help and you know it.”

He tried not to smile. God, he wanted her to stay so bad he ached. Still, it was the wrong thing to do.

“Ellie’s house is a crime scene. She’s going to be living in a hotel until the police are finished.”

Amy just shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay with you.”

He ignored the way his heart was pounding inside his chest. He wanted to kiss her, just lean down and capture those plump pink lips. He wanted to drag her down on the grass, rip off her clothes and bury himself inside her.

“Your mother wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s the thing…I’m not a little girl anymore so I don’t have to worry about what my mom has to say. Besides, Rachael won’t be safe until we find out who’s after her.”

He gave it one last shot. “We both know it’s not a good idea.”

She looked him straight in the face. “Don’t you want me here?”

He told himself to lie. It was better if things ended now. “I want you here. Hell, I just plain want you.”