Someone Safe. Lori Harris L.

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СКАЧАТЬ college friend,” Nick offered. “Wants to meet for a beer.” He pulled his holstered weapon out of the top drawer and slipped it on. “Did you need something?” he asked when Myron made no move to stand.

      “No. I was just finishing up and saw your light on. Thought we could catch a sandwich.” He rubbed his knees. “Maybe another night.”

      “Sounds good.” Nick said. “Everything okay with you?”

      “Sure.” With a forced smile and a soft grunt, Myron pushed stiffly to his feet. His shoulders sagged. “I guess I’m just restless. It’s been a year today, and I still don’t know what to do with myself. Pathetic, isn’t it? I feel like a lost pup scratching at the back door of a dark house.”

      The previous July, Myron had buried his wife of thirty-four years. Nick hated seeing the pain in the other man’s eyes. Myron was more of a father to him than his own had been, and still he didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing. And regretted it.

      “If you’re on your way out, I’ll walk down with you,” he offered.

      Myron opened the door. “I just need to stop by my office and make a quick call to my daughter.”

      When they reached Myron’s office, Nick stayed outside in the hall. After several moments, though, he found himself glancing down at his watch. He’d told Ake five minutes. Something had rattled the experienced FBI investigator. Nick reached in his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he carried. Instead of taking one, he glanced with uncertainity at the bank of elevators twenty-five feet away and considered going on ahead, but then he remembered the look in Myron’s eyes. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt. As he waited, he did his damndest to keep his mind away from Kelly Logan. Without success.

      He couldn’t say he was surprised to hear of a connection between Kelly and Benito. Disappointed, though. He’d always hoped he was wrong about her.

      He rested his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes.

      Why was it, when he could barely remember the color of Stephanie’s eyes, he could still recall the way Kelly had looked the first time he’d watched her climb down from a plane and stride across tarmac?

      Tight jeans and a baggy sweater. Long, loose stride. A smile that hit a man dead in the gut and kept going.

      Myron closed the door to his office, and Nick straightened.

      “How’s Lily?” Nick asked as they headed for the elevator.

      “Okay. Better than me.” Myron shifted his briefcase to the opposite hand and reached into his pocket for his keys. “I finally agreed to put the house on the market, so we’re at least talking again.” He glanced at Nick, offering a weary smile. “She’s like Bev. Determined.”

      “She’s like Bev in other ways, too.”

      “Suppose she is,” he admitted, seeming to give additional thought to the observation. “Can’t cook like her mother, though.”

      Nick followed Myron into the elevator. “Different generation.”

      “You can say that again.”

      “You’re a dinosaur.”

      “Lily has another term for it, a long word that manages to sound like a compliment, but isn’t.” Myron stepped out into the parking garage and Nick followed.

      “How about we catch that sandwich tomorrow night? Maybe shoot a few games of pool?”

      “Sounds good,” Myron called and offered a small wave.

      Four minutes later, Nick’s car skidded into the parking garage.

      After taking the ticket from the entrance machine, he entered the parking structure. At this time of night, the garage, which catered to bank customers and employees, was mostly empty.

      What in the hell was going on? Was Kelly hauling for Benito? Nick felt his gut tighten at the possibility.

      His sports car roared up to the top level. A clear, star-studded Florida night spread overhead. Tall buildings, several lit to reveal the bold architectural details of the New South, surrounded the structure.

      As soon as he circled around the ramp’s guard wall, he spotted Ake’s car, one of the few vehicles parked on the unprotected rooftop. He pulled alongside the large sedan expecting to see Ake sitting behind the wheel, but the Buick was empty.

      But, then, he was more than ten minutes late. Maybe Ake had decided to stretch his legs.

      Nick climbed out, stood next to his own vehicle. In the distance, interstate traffic hummed. Closer, an ambulance wailed. He searched the lot for movement. What had made Ake think of a deserted garage as a meeting place? Only rookies considered deserted lots and buildings good places for private conversations. He preferred crowded restaurants with loud music and booths. As did Ake usually. So what was different about this time? What did Ake want to show him?

      He walked out into the driving lane, looked toward the far wall, then behind him. Nothing.

      Backtracking, he glanced inside the Buick, front seat, then back. John’s child seat was strapped in place, a diaper bag sat on the seat, and Ake’s briefcase lay on the floorboard.

      He tried the door and found it unlocked. The damp stickiness on his fingers registered at the same time the interior light came on.

      Dropping into a crouch in front of the open door, he released the strap holding the 9mm secure in the shoulder holster, flicked off the safety as soon as steel broke free of leather.

      Blood glistened on the charcoal upholstery. At least one bullet had missed its mark and torn into the seat back, the blood-splattered guts of the upholstery leaking out like torn flesh. Not a lot of blood, though.

      He could taste the vaporized gun powder against his tongue now. Only minutes old. Which meant whoever had done this might still be close by, might have Ake pinned down somewhere.

      “Ake!”

      Nothing.

      Looking down for the first time, he spotted more blood leading toward the rear of the car. A lot more.

      He shouldn’t have waited on Myron. He should have sensed something was wrong. Reaching in, he removed the keys from the ignition. As he backed out of the path of the dome light, his shoe sent an object pinging across the pavement. A small caliber casing from the sound of it.

      Stopping short of the rear of the car, he rested his back against the fender of his small car, distancing his body the same way he attempted to distance his mind.

      He’d opened doors and trunks in his career, often knowing what he would find inside. He’d seen the bodies of men tossed into large shipping cartons after their illegal contents had been emptied, their remains left there undiscovered for days, until the stench of death brought help too late.

      Nick shoved the key into the trunk lock and turned it. As the lid came up, the interior light blinked on.

      He staggered back as if he’d taken a couple of shotgun blasts to the chest and gut. The pain was real. Not СКАЧАТЬ