“I’ll get the damn agreement. Get your ass here.”
He disconnects and I dial Kane.
The minute he answers, I say, “I need a couple of men to go with her to New Hampshire until this is over.”
“What else?”
“One of them needs to take her to her lockbox now. I have to go to the precinct and get an immunity agreement. Just send one man now, actually. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”
“Jay’s coming in.”
“Send him to the rear. And Kane, I can’t explain now, but I think you’re on the killer’s revenge list. Be careful what you eat or drink.”
I disconnect and rush back to the table to check on Marilyn, only to find her missing. Damn it, she got cold feet and ran.
Holy shit. Now I’m running toward the back door, bursting into the alleyway and I’m not alone. I draw my weapon as my night just gets a whole lot shittier. To my left, I find six armed men and three cars, men I can only call gangsters. One of the men is holding Marilyn who ran from me and found someone worse. One of the men steps forward, a familiar man who I’ve never met, but I’ve seen his picture. He looks like Kane’s father: tall, fit, with a mustache and thick dark hair striped with gray.
He’s Kane’s uncle.
And he’s not armed, but he doesn’t have to be, not with his men all pointing guns at me.
“Hello, Miguel,” I say, stepping in front of him and pointing my gun at him.
“Agent Lilah Love,” he replies in a heavily accented voice. “About time we met.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Miguel and I make eye contact and I find something familiar there. He’s a killer. I don’t wonder what he sees in mine. Maybe he sees the same in mine. Maybe he doesn’t, but what he doesn’t see is fear.
“Tell your man to let go of the woman,” I order, “or I swear to you, I will shoot you between the eyes.”
Kane steps to my side, his presence a punch of power even I can’t deny. “She’ll do it,” he warns. “And then I’ll have to bury another body.”
“Another body?” Miguel quips. “What the fuck?”
“Yes,” Kane assures him. “Another body.” Kane eyes the man holding Marilyn and lifts a hand. The man doesn’t hesitate. He releases her and Jay rushes forward and guides her away from the scene. Kane waves at the other men and they lower their weapons and back away, out of the scene as well. Almost as if Kane is in charge, not Miguel, I think sardonically.
“Lilah, you can put the gun down,” Kane says coolly. “My uncle and I need to have a private conversation.”
I lower my weapon but it stays in my hand. And I damn sure don’t leave. Not yet. I step closer to Miguel, really damn close, and I say, “If you ever come up on me in an alley like this again, or scare one of my witnesses, I will kill you.”
He laughs. “You’re an FBI agent. You won’t do that.”
I smirk. “Won’t I? You must think I give two fucks about my badge.”
I give him my back, telling him I don’t fear him. This time, I step in front of Kane and say, “We can stay. But he won’t last long.”
His face is stony, but I see a glow of respect in his eyes. I’m not sure how I feel about that right about now.
I step around him and start walking. No one joins Kane. Because he doesn’t need help. That’s how in control he is. And that very notion defies our many conversations on the topic of the cartel. Kit motions me inside the coffee bar. I charge inside, and pissed off and driven by adrenaline, I step inside the seating area to find Marilyn hugging herself and waiting on me with Jay by her side.
“What the hell was that?” she demands, her voice trembling as she motions to Jay. “He won’t tell me anything.”
“That was boys behaving badly,” I say. “Kind of like Rip behaved badly.”
“Rip is dead!” she exclaims. “Are we going to die?”
Jesus, I think. For someone who sat by while others were taunted and said nothing for who knows how long, really, she’s easily rattled. “Why did you run?”
“This whole thing has me spooked. I had second thoughts about coming forward. What if I end up a target?”
It’s a logical concern, even if I don’t believe her. I think it’s all part of a big act meant to make me believe she’s a scared victim. “You have us here protecting you. As long as that remains the case, you’ll be fine. Right now, you’re going to go home and pack.”
“Jay’s still her chaperone,” Kit interjects.
“Jay,” I say, eyeing Marilyn, “would be the man standing beside you who you were just complaining about. Word of advice. Don’t be cranky to the men who swear to take a bullet for you. As I said, he’s going to take you home to pack for New Hampshire.”