Allison Brennan - Killing Fear

From the corner of his eye he saw his pursuer on the building, gaining on him. Fuck that, the bastard moved up the face like a real-life Spider-Man.

Theodore swung over to a narrow window ledge. He took out his gun and fired at the man below him. Pop, pop, pop.

Then he kept moving, his fingers raw from the rough stone. He reached up for the roof ledge and rock crumbled. He didn’t look back, didn’t know how close the assassin was, but he must have stalled him for a few seconds.

That was all Theodore needed. He pulled himself up onto the roof, rolled low, jumped up, then ran, leaping across two roofs until he saw a balcony with the window open. Perfect.

He jumped onto the balcony and through the open window. He ran through the rooms until he found a door and let himself out before the owners could even catch a glimpse of him.

He found himself on a street four blocks over from the alley where he’d been hiding from the man who wanted him dead.

Time to disappear.

“It’s beautiful,” Robin told Isabelle when she walked into the gallery early that afternoon with Will on one side and Mario on the other. The day was overcast with a fifty percent chance of rain later that night, but for now it was dry.

Her excitement from yesterday had been squelched by the message from Glenn, but she was determined to continue with her plans.

You’ll never know when. Tomorrow? Next month? Next year?

Glenn’s words haunted her, but he was right. She wouldn’t know when. And she refused to be a prisoner for the rest of her life.

“Isn’t it?” Isabelle beamed, a little wary of the two tall, armed men. “I decided the halogen lights worked best with your bold colors.”

Twenty-six paintings were on display in all different sizes, with two dramatic eight-foot murals framing the entry. Each painting had its own special lighting. A caterer had been hired to serve champagne and hors d’oeuvres and they were setting up in the small kitchenette in the rear of the gallery.

“Get ready, Robin. The guests are arriving,” Isabelle said excitedly and left to greet them.

“I’ll man the door,” Mario said. “I have one man on the back and two working as caterers.”

“Glenn’s not coming here,” Robin said. “It’s still daylight.”

Will forced her to look at him. “He wrote that to scare you.”

“He wants to kill you.” She swallowed her fears and nerves. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. He’s a master at psychological torture. But you’re stronger than that. I’m not leaving your side, Robin.”

“For the rest of my life? We both have jobs. You can’t be with me every minute of every day. And maybe that’s what he wants, to get us both together-”

“Stop.” Will put his hands on her face, his expression firm, sharing his strength and confidence. She breathed easier.

“Okay.”

“This is your big day. Don’t let that asshole ruin it. We have very competent people looking for him. We’re not dropping this. He killed two cops, Robin, don’t forget that. Cop killers don’t walk.”

She nodded, held his hand against her face. “I’ll be okay.”

Will watched Robin all afternoon. After her moment of fear at the beginning of the art show, she’d put on her game face and was gracious, polite, and professional. He saw through her act, but the performance gave her confidence and strength. He was proud of her.

The gallery was packed, the event obviously a success. As the crowd thinned out, his cell phone rang. It was an unavailable number. He picked it up as he moved to a quieter corner, his eyes still on Robin. “Hooper.”

“Nico. The target has fled.”

“What?”

“The target is no longer in Mexico.”

“What happened? Where is he?”

“I had him in sight twice. The first time he scaled a building and escaped through an unsecured apartment. But I learned where he eluded me. A few bribes later and I had word where he was headed. Almost had him again on a dirt road outside Tijuana. He shot a woman to buy himself time. She would have died if I hadn’t stopped to put on a field dressing.

“I never had him in sight again, though I tracked him to Calexico.”

“When?”

“Two hours ago.”

“And you lost him there?”

Silence. “I couldn’t cross the border. I called in a favor and have him identified as boarding a Greyhound bus heading for San Diego. Number 177 arriving at the main bus terminal at eleven-oh-six p.m.”

Will wrote down the information. “Thanks,” he said, then realized Nico had already cut off the call. In the back of his mind he wondered who the hell Nico really was and how someone as straightlaced as Hans Vigo had hooked up with him.

Will had no intention of waiting for the Greyhound bus to arrive in San Diego. He called in the information to Chief Causey to expedite putting together a SWAT team to apprehend the bus en route, then he told Mario what was going on.

He pulled Robin into a semiprivate corner behind one of her canvases.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, searching his face.

He rubbed her arms. “I have a lead on Glenn. I have to go.”

Her brows furrowed in worry. “Be careful.”

“Mario is going to take you home and stand guard until I get back.” He kissed her short and hard. “I love you.”

Will rode with the unmarked SWAT van east on I-8. It had begun to drizzle in San Diego, but as they drove the sky cleared up. Commander Tom Blade was on the radio in the back. “ETA twelve minutes,” he said.

“Do you have a visual?”

“The CHP is tracking the bus discreetly. We don’t want to alert Glenn or the other passengers that something is wrong. They have an unmarked pair of vehicles playing tag team with surveillance. Bus dispatch has ordered the driver to pull off at Exit 30 and feign illness. Protocol requires that all passengers disembark if the driver leaves the bus. We’re five minutes behind the bus.”

“Make sure the CHP knows how dangerous he is.”

“They’re aware.”

Something nagged Will. Why would Glenn get on a bus? He’d know he was trapped if anyone saw him. Bus terminals had similar security as airports. He wouldn’t be able to bring a gun on the bus, and Will didn’t see the bastard going anywhere unarmed.

Nico sounded confident that his information was correct, but he didn’t personally witness Glenn boarding the bus. Will was relying on information from an informant he hadn’t talked to.

“Where’s the passenger manifest?” he asked Blade.

“There’re nine adult males on board traveling alone, and four traveling with a companion.”

“I need names.”

“It’s on the computer.” Blade jerked his thumb.

Will scrolled down the list on the SWAT laptop. Nothing jumped out at him. He had Glenn’s fake names, the names Sara Lorenz had created for him. None were on the list, nothing even close.

“He’s not on the bus.”

“I don’t have time for this, Hooper. ETA is six minutes. The bus has just pulled off the road. CHP is in place. We’re going off your information, dammit.”

“He was there, I’m certain of it.” At least as certain as he could be based on his conversation with his mysterious informant. “But he got off somewhere. Did the driver stop anywhere after leaving Calexico?”

“Their dispatch said there were no scheduled stops between Calexico and San Diego.”

“What did the driver say?”

Blade instantly saw the potential problem. “We determined that the safest course was not to engage the driver in conversation but to get everyone off the bus as quickly and safely as possible.”

Will listened to Blade with growing dread. “Dammit, Blade, he got off the bus. Somehow, he got off and we don’t know where the hell he is.”