Matt read Kara’s message.
Colton is alive. Will Lattimer knew Monday night that Violet was here but didn’t tell me when I talked to him yesterday morning. Violet said the shooter is a cop named Steve Colangelo and that Colton has this information. Did he tell Elena and she’s keeping that information from me? Or did he not tell her and why? Violet is getting dressed. We’ll be coming out in five minutes.
Matt forwarded the message to Michael and then to Ryder in DC so he could follow up on background for everyone involved.
Driving around the block twice, he looked for anyone sitting in a car, walking along the street, acting suspicious.
He was upset for Kara and what she must be feeling. She kept so many emotions bottled up inside that she had never learned how to process, so they came out in anger. She was a bundle of tension, and all he wanted to do was give her some peace. There were times when he felt her truly relax, especially after sex, when she fell asleep in his arms. Sometimes, when they were alone at his place, chatting about work or movies.
She didn’t relax enough. He wanted to change that. This deception by her old team was going to tear her apart. It would hurt for a long time. He didn’t know how to fix it, other than to just be there for her when she needed him.
It was near the end of his second trek around the block, when he was driving the street parallel to Colton’s, that something caught Matt’s peripheral vision.
Two men dressed in black walking down the side of a house. From here, they could go through two backyards and be in Colton’s backyard.
He called Kara.
“Yep.”
“Two men are approaching from the back. I’ll be out front in thirty seconds. Watch yourself and keep the line open.”
“Copy that,” she said.
He lost sight of the men as he drove down the street toward Colton’s corner. He sent Michael a quick message alerting him, though it would take him too long to get here.
A van pulled up in front of the house and cut Matt off at the intersection. One man wearing a ski mask jumped out and held a semiautomatic rifle on Matt while two others ran to the front of the house.
“Kara! Men are approaching front and back! I’m pinned down.”
The gunman hadn’t yet fired his weapon, but he had it pointed in Matt’s direction.
“Don’t get dead,” Kara said. “I got this.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Matt slammed the car into Reverse. The gunman opened fire, aiming at his front tires and grill. A bullet ricocheted off his hood and shattered part of his windshield, the safety glass cracking, but not breaking. Yet. One more bullet would do it.
“Matt!”
“I’m okay, they’re shooting at the car.”
“I have a ride. Get out of here.”
“What ride?”
His car was rolling backward. Steering was tight, and he fought to maintain control. Over the car speaker he heard a motorcycle start up.
“Kara—”
“Trust me. I got Violet. Go.” She ended the call.
He backed up, hit another car, did a one-eighty and drove away.
They didn’t pursue.
He called 911.
Kara had Violet out of the house as soon as Matt told her that two men were approaching. She knew as well as Matt that they’d have two teams coming for them. Whether they were after Kara or Violet, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t taking chances.
She didn’t want to tell Matt how much of a risk she was taking, because he wouldn’t have left her, and she didn’t know what these people had planned. Kidnapping or murder? Or kidnapping, torture, then murder? None of the options appealed to her because every idea she had ended in her being dead.
She broke the lock on Colton’s garage. She had to believe with all her heart that Colton kept his bike in top running order like usual, even when he was in deep cover. She had to also have faith that it was still here, in his garage.
Because if it wasn’t, this was going to be a short-lived escape.
The garage door rolled up and there was his bike in all its glory. Kara owned a Kawasaki 800, but she’d driven Colton’s heavier—and more powerful—Harley V-Rod. The best thing about Colton’s bike was that it was fast.
She threw a helmet at Violet and put one on herself because there was no shield on the front of the bike to protect her from debris and bugs. She needed to see clearly. She ordered Violet to climb on.
“Hold on tight because I’m going to be moving fast and not slowing down. You fall off, you’re going to break something and those guys are going to grab you.”
She heard gunfire and screamed, “Matt!”
“...shooting at the car.”
“I have a ride. Get out of here.”
“What ride?”
She started up the bike. Colton hadn’t let her down. He loved his bike, and would never let it stay idle for long.
“Kara—”
“Trust me. I got Violet. Go,” she said before ending the call.
As long as the men were going to the front door, she was okay. If they were coming down the driveway, she was toast.
She turned the bike and floored it. Riding a motorcycle was literally like riding a bike—you never forgot.
But she had forgotten how much she loved it.
Violet gripped her tight and Kara practically flew down the driveway. The men were coming out of the house in the back—they’d already busted the front door—and she thought she heard a gunshot, but she felt nothing, and Violet’s grip didn’t waver.
The van blocked the intersection, so Kara turned left, up the hill. They would pursue, but she was faster on the bike. And motorcycles could go where vans couldn’t.
At the top of the hill, the road curved around and went down toward the Hollywood Freeway. She went through a red light—slowing only briefly to make sure there was no cross traffic—and merged onto the 110 heading north.
She debated for two seconds about heading straight for the Sheraton, but she didn’t know what was going on, how these men had found her, if they’d followed her and Matt from the hotel or if they might be waiting for her there. She needed to get Violet to safety, and that meant getting her out of town.
Like to Colton’s Big Bear cabin.
It was a two-hour drive—maybe less on the bike. When she felt they were safe she’d pull over and figure out exactly where in Big Bear she was going.
Violet repeatedly tapped on her leg. Kara glanced in the rearview mirror, didn’t see anyone pursuing or gaining on her. Still, she didn’t want to pull over just yet.
She waited until she got through the I-5 interchange and was heading more east than north, then pulled over in South Pasadena where there was an easy on/off-ramp next to a dog park.
She pulled into the parking lot and throttled down the bike, looked at the gauges. Nearly full tank of gas. Everything appeared in good working order.
She took off her helmet and looked at Violet. “What?”
Violet struggled but removed her own helmet. She was pale and wide-eyed. She said, “Your phone. You have to get rid of your phone. It’s how they found me. That’s the only way I can think that they found you, unless they followed you.”
Kara was good at spotting a tail, but she thought she’d missed it. Her phone? Damn.
She called Matt.
He answered immediately.
“Status.”
“We’re good. I’m getting Violet out of town.”
“Bring her to the hotel.”
“No. Not until I know every single cop who’s part of this. She has valuable information, Matt—we need her safe.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Violet thinks someone tracked her on her phone, that they might be tracking my phone. I’m wiping it and dumping it before I take her.”
“I’ll meet you—tell me where you are.”
“Once she’s safe, I’ll get a disposable phone and call you. There are millions of dollars at stake, and people will kill for far less money.”
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Do not die on me.”
“Ditto. And, Matt? Find Will. He knows where Colton is, and he has been playing some game with me.”
She ended the call, erased the phone, restored it to factory settings, dropped it, then ran over it with the motorcycle. She turned to Violet. “Good?”
Violet nodded.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded again.
“It’s a nearly two-hour ride to where we’re going. Just hold on, we’ll be there sooner than you think.”
If you wanted something done right...
Conrad quietly fumed that the men he hired couldn’t do a simple job. He wouldn’t trust Theodore Duncan’s recommendations in the future. That man was, frankly, a pompous asshole.
He was, however, greatly impressed with the ability of Detective Quinn to extract herself from the dangerous situation. She was resourceful, a valuable attribute he admired. The cop’s tenacious reputation had been accurate and well-earned. Everything he’d learned about her in preparation for this job had been spot-on.
Now, he suspected the other bit of gossip he’d stumbled upon was also true: the detective and Agent Costa were involved. That tidbit could come in handy now...or in the future.
He had been correct that Quinn would find Ms. Halliday. Quinn would have been collateral damage; his job was to find Violet Halliday, extract what information she knew about the deleted files and any documentation she had, then dispose of her.
Conrad didn’t like killing innocents. Not Quinn—he wouldn’t like to kill her, and he may let her live depending on how things played out—but Ms. Halliday. The girl was just a computer nerd, a smart young woman who became nosy. In this case, there was no other option. She knew too much, she had to die.
He would charge more for his discomfort.
Conrad dialed the secure number of his FBI contact. It was late; he didn’t care.
Two rings later. “What happened?”
“Detective Quinn has Ms. Halliday. Where are they?”
“I need to get to my computer.”
“Your plan failed.”
“It wasn’t mine! I told you not to listen to Theodore—”
“You don’t pay my bills.”
Silence.
He didn’t like where this assignment had been going. Too many people with too much information. There was always a weak link.
He put half his money on this fed, the other half spread evenly around to the other conspirators.
“One minute, I’ll find her.”
He would have smiled if he wasn’t so irritated at the failure tonight.
Chen was dead, because of his plan. Dyson was dead, because of his hand. Both perfect murders because he had orchestrated both.
As soon as he brought in others? Failure.
“Her phone isn’t transmitting anymore. I have the last location...”
“She destroyed it. You know what to do. And so do I.”
He ended the call, then called the woman who originally hired him to fix the avalanche of problems created after David Chen was arrested.
“I need an additional one million in my account by noon tomorrow or I’m walking. I’m not in the mood to negotiate.”