Hard Play (Delta Force Brotherhood), Page 6

  Dylan leaned back and stretched his arms out along the dark brown cushions. “So you quit your job and went to work as a PI. Bided your time until you had some street cred and distance from the cops, then picked up the dealer gig to get on the inside and try to find some good info on the Molodavi family.” He rose and stacked the plates. “Until it all went wrong.”

  “Yeah.” She covered her mouth with both hands as a loud yawn escaped. “Damn, that hit the spot. Thank you.”

  …

  Jessie didn’t know why she was telling a total stranger so much about her father, about herself.

  He was a mercenary. A man with no morals, who only did what he was paid to do. She couldn’t blame Lisa for resorting to hiring professional soldiers, but their loyalty would last only as long as the money did.

  Jessie remembered the way he’d held her earlier, during her emotional breakdown. He’d been gentle and kind, hardly what came to mind when thinking of a merc.

  Whoever this man was, he wasn’t like anyone she’d met before.

  And she needed to know more.

  She tilted her head and studied him. “I don’t mean to be personal, but what do we owe you? I’m not exactly flush with cash, and I know Lisa’s not independently wealthy. I’ve got some savings but…”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He waved her off. “At some point in the future we’ll need a favor and you can pay up then.”

  “A favor,” she repeated. “Legal or illegal?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say. But it’ll be for a good cause, I can promise you that.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t give out blank IOUs to strangers. Even one who saved my life. Tell me more about who you are, and I’ll consider it.” She crossed her arms. “Non-negotiable. You may make a mean bowl of soup, but I’m not signing off on a blank contract with a man I just met. Even if this is Las Vegas.” Jessie smiled. “Especially in Las Vegas.”

  Dylan leaned back, obviously assessing the situation.

  A full minute later, he spoke.

  “We’re not mercenaries. We don’t do it for the money. Most of the time we don’t even get paid enough to cover expenses. All you need to know is that we’re the good guys.”

  “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. But that’s not enough.” Jessie swept her arm out behind her. “I want to trust you, but I don’t know who the hell you are.” Her gaze went to the trailer door. “Tell me or I walk out of here and take my chances with the cops. They may be corrupt as all hell and I might end up back in that cage, or worse, but at least I know where I stand with Molodavi. I don’t know where I stand with you.” Her eyes locked with his. “So tell me.”

  …

  She’d called his bluff, and now Dylan McCourt was well and truly out of his depth.

  This wasn’t supposed to be difficult. A simple retrieval, get her out of town to somewhere safe so she could rebuild her life. He’d done this before—bring someone home then disappear into the shadows with no more than a handshake and a thank-you, maybe a promise of future assistance, or a few dollars to cover expenses. Swear everyone involved to secrecy and move on to the next job.

  That was how it was supposed to be.

  But somehow Jessie Lyon had gotten under his skin in ways that both angered and aroused him within a few hours of meeting her.

  This wasn’t good.

  “My name is Dylan McCourt and I run the Brotherhood.” The words came easily now that he’d made the decision to tell her. “We’re a group of men who believe in doing the right thing when the law doesn’t make it possible.”

  She frowned but said nothing.

  “Sometimes people find their hands tied, unable to legally do what needs to be done. We go where the law can’t go, do what they can’t or won’t do.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “We save kidnapped children from monsters. We help protect people when the police can’t. We pull people out of the worst situations possible and take them home to their families. We run alongside the law and do what’s right. We deliver justice.”

  He stopped, his heart racing inside his chest.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  He saw her studying him, weighing his words.

  “Justice,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “I could use a bit of that right now,” she said.

  The cell phone on the counter rang. Dylan grabbed it up and answered. “What?”

  “Get to the television set. Channel KVVU, right now.” Trey’s tone left no room for discussion.

  Dylan yanked open the nearby drawer, digging for the television remote. “What’s up?”

  “Just watch. Talk to me when it’s over.”

  Dylan pointed the remote at the set mounted in the upper corner of the trailer and jabbed the power button.

  An image came up, taking a few seconds to solidify, showing one of the local reporters doing a live feed. A scroll at the bottom blared Breaking News!

  “This security tape clearly shows the suspect killing the casino employee,” said the reporter.

  The two of them stared at the screen.

  The angle was from above, the black and white surveillance footage showing a woman standing a few feet away from a man. She had a pistol at her side. He had his hands raised in surrender, his mouth wide in panic.

  It was Al.

  Facing off with Jessie Lyon.

  …

  Jessie’s mouth dropped open as she saw her doppelganger raise her hand. The bullets drilled into Al and he dropped to the ground, twitching for a few seconds before going still.

  “I didn’t do that. You know I didn’t do that. You were there.”

  She pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to calm her nerves. A few hours ago she’d been a kidnap victim, now she was a murder suspect.

  The news anchor continued. “Jessica Lyon is wanted for questioning. Again, if you see this woman please do not approach her—she is considered armed and dangerous. The Fluxxx casino is offering ten thousand dollars for information leading to her arrest and conviction. Notify authorities immediately.”

  Dylan muted the set.

  “This is insane.” Jessie shook her head. “What the hell is going on?”

  Dylan tapped a button on the cell phone and laid it down on the tabletop.

  “It’s obviously faked footage.” The voice on the phone filled the room. “I’m sure they have hours and hours of footage from the casino floor of Jessie going about her business. Find a scene of her pointing at someone, an innocent gesture they can wrap around the actual shooter’s image. It’s not impossible to do, take some sweet software and a bit of skill, that’s all.”

  “Would the police be able to tell it’s faked?” Dylan asked.

  “Not likely. Without anything to compare it to they’d take it at face value. There’d be no reason not to.”

  Jessie found her voice. “Molodavi has his own men looking for me. Now he’s added the cops and everyone who’s seen that video.” She looked at Dylan. “Increases the odds of me being spotted and turned in for the fat reward. I’m sure I’d only be inside a few hours until I met with an unfortunate ‘accident’ or hanged myself out of guilt and regret.” She sighed. “He wants me back. Badly.”

  Dylan nodded. “He thinks you’ve got something big on him. Your escape didn’t help—he’s likely running super paranoid trying to figure out who you’re working for and, by extension, who we’re working for.”

  She swallowed hard. “I really stepped in it this time.”

  “You wanted to see justice done. Don’t blame yourself for that.” He gestured at the screen, showing the doctored film again. “Who would have guessed he’d go this far to get you back?” He raised his voice. “Trey, can you unscramble it? Are you that good?”

  A few seconds of silence followed. “I hate to say it, but no. If you could get me the unaltered footage I could show the similarities between the two. It’d display the image being doctored.”

  Jessie shook her hea
d. “I can’t believe they’d kill one of their own.”

  “Molodavi doesn’t play around. Trey, call Finn and tell him to make plans to transport Jessie out of town. New York might be a good place. Set her down with Jimmy for a few weeks until we can sort this out.”

  “What?” Jessie found her voice. “You’re not dumping me anywhere.” She pointed at the screen and the never-ending scroll of the same black and white footage. “I’m a wanted woman. I need to clear my name.”

  “And we will.” The annoyance in his voice would have warned off most women, but she wasn’t most women. “But we need to keep you safe.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’re not shipping me out of here. I need to be involved in this. I need to help make this right.”

  Dylan glared at her. “Before this, we could have considered going to an honest judge, an honest district attorney to help you lay charges against Molodavi that would stick—he’s blown that all up with this. First time you poke your head above ground, you’re going to be put behind bars, and that’ll be it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the feds aren’t poised, ready to come in as well. A murder charge is serious. That video’s not going away. It’s going to be distributed everywhere, online and off.”

  “Then let’s ride it through to the end. I was going to die in that cage. There was no way I could have convinced Molodavi I was acting on my own. He would have killed me because I was stupid and went after him with my heart instead of my head.”

  She kept talking, forcing her point. “I was a damn good cop and a hell of a detective. Let me help you help me take Molodavi down.”

  Dylan studied her for a second, and she sensed his conflict, his weighing the odds of bringing her in on this.

  He’d be crazy to turn down her help.

  She’d be crazy to think there wasn’t more going on here than a professional butting of heads over procedure. There was something between them, something that demanded more investigation when the time was right.

  Maybe they were both crazy. But at least that meant they’d agreed on something.

  Finally, he nodded.

  She wasn’t going to lose momentum. “Okay. I need to get back into Edward Molodavi’s office.”

  He frowned. “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

  “I have a flash drive hidden there with enough information to take him down. And I’m willing to bet your computer wizard might have some ideas about how to get into Molodavi’s database and find that unaltered security tape.”

  Dylan smiled. “You’re fast.”

  She returned the smile with interest, adding a sultry smirk. “Just watch me.”

  He nodded. “Trey? You still there?”

  “Here and listening intently.”

  Jessie raised her voice. “The reason no one’s been able to put Molodavi down is because his computer servers are locked up tight. I had a program on the flash drive that would scoop up information, enough to at least start an investigation once I handed it over to the FBI.”

  “Right. He’s orphaned his computers. There’s no way to hack in from outside. The only way we can get to the undoctored footage of the murder is to upload a program into their system to let me have remote access. Once the walls come down I can access everything.”

  “I hid the drive when I was discovered. It’s still there in the office, along with Molodavi’s desktop computer.” She stood, relishing her newfound strength. “So, we go back in, get the flash drive, and get Trey the access he needs to clear my name.”

  “I can sneak into his office alone. Why, for the love of God, would I take you along?” Dylan snapped.

  She reached out and poked the center of his chest with her finger. “Because I’m not going to sit here and let you do all the heavy lifting. I’ve been there, I’ve worked there.”

  “You’re a wanted woman,” he shot back.

  “Which is why they’re not going to expect me to go right back to where they grabbed me.” She crossed her arms. “Look, I know the layout much better than you do. I’m a resource you’d be silly not to use.”

  He stared at her, his mouth tightening into a thin, straight line as he considered her argument.

  Trey spoke first. “She’s got a point, boss. No matter how many times we look over those blueprints, she’s got the advantage.”

  “Shut up.” Dylan pressed his fingertips to his eyelids. “Okay. We’ve got to get out of here before anyone recognizes you. Trey, send Wyatt up to the cabin and lay in some supplies. We’ll move out in a few hours, when it’s dark. Include phone and food, and we’ll see what we can come up with.”

  “Does this mean we’re following her plan?” Trey asked.

  “This means you’re doing what I tell you for now.” He opened his eyes. “Call Jimmy and lay the groundwork in case she needs to go underground fast. Later.”

  He cut the connection before Trey could say anything else.

  Jessie watched him lean forward, arms braced on the counter, swearing silently as he shook his head.

  “This got way more complicated than I thought it’d be.” He stared at her. “If you’ve got anything else to say, say it now.”

  “I want to make a phone call.”

  …

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Dylan shook his head. “To who?”

  “Frank Wheeler. He’s a retired cop, and he worked with my father.” She spoke quickly, seeing his expression. “Look, I’m no killer. He knows that. He could call in some favors, see what’s going on with the cops, maybe put out feelers and find someone who can help us. Molodavi can’t own everyone.”

  He gripped the burner phone like a lifeline. “You’ve got an APB out on you and a reward on your head. What makes you think he won’t turn on you?”

  Jessie stared at him. “I have to trust someone. Right now I’ve only got you and your men. If I can give us someone on the inside, wouldn’t you want it?”

  He ground his teeth, annoyed with her logic.

  “I might have left the force in anger, but he knows I’m a good person. He knows I wouldn’t kill someone out of hand, not like that.” She held out her hand. “We could use the extra help.”

  “It’s likely the police would have his phone tapped already, waiting for you to call him. Standard procedure.” Dylan gave her the burner phone. “Under two minutes. Longer and they can trace it.” He looked at the screen where the news feed continued to scroll across the bottom. “It’d be nice to have someone on our side.”

  Jessie tapped in the number and turned on the speakerphone. It rang three times before someone picked it up.

  “Frank?”

  “Jessie?” The hoarse voice showed a lifetime of smoking. “My God, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  “Making a long story short—I didn’t do it.” Jessie glanced at her watch. “I don’t have much time here. Are they serious about sending the dogs after me? You know I’m not…”

  “I don’t know what you are now,” Wheeler shot back. “You killed a man in cold blood. Your father is going to be spinning in his grave.”

  Jessie went pale and Dylan let out a silent curse. Last thing she needed right now was to be reminded of his death.

  “I didn’t do it.” She pressed on. “And I need your help to prove I’m innocent.”

  There was a pause, long enough to make Dylan nervous. “Then come on in. I’ll meet you at the front door of the police station.”

  “No. Molodavi’s got men on the inside. Son of a bitch had me trapped in a cage for a week and no one gave a crap. They’ll figure out a way to kill me while I’m in custody. You know I’m speaking the truth.”

  Dylan counted down the seconds.

  “I’ll do what I can to protect you, but you’ve got to come in. You need to talk to a cop, a lawyer.”

  Jessie shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her. “I have to go. Promise me you’ll push for them to find out the truth. I’m no killer.”

  Wheeler’s laugh was harsh an
d startling. “We can all be killers if we’ve got our backs to the wall. But I’ll see what I can do. Where can I reach you?”

  Dylan tapped her shoulder and nodded, signaling her time was up.

  “I’ll call you in a few days. Bye.” She cut the connection. “He doesn’t believe me.”

  “He’s in shock. First he sees his buddy’s daughter up on the screen murdering someone in cold blood, now he hears she’s innocent. A hell of a hit to the system.” He took the phone from her. “We’ll call him later, see what he’s been able to dig up. Maybe he can find a few honest men in the system who’ll try to take the surveillance film apart.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to lie down.”

  “Good idea.” He nodded toward the back of the trailer. “We move out in a few hours. Grab some sleep on the bed back there, I’ll stand watch.”

  She slid out from behind the table and walked past him in silence.

  …

  Dylan sat at the table and looked at the closed trailer door. He could have hustled out right after the talk with Trey, but he wanted Jessie to get some healing sleep and the news needed a few hours to get old.

  He glanced at the television set. It was muted, the closed captioning scrolling up at the bottom of the screen. The manhunt had been bumped back further in the newscast as the day had gone on, but it didn’t make the murder any less horrible. Now it was early evening and it was still in the top five, the broadcaster repeating the plea for information and reminding everyone of the reward.

  He got to his feet and stretched out, feeling a familiar hum through his muscles in anticipation of getting to business.

  It took a second to find a fresh T-shirt in the duffel bag, his other one damp from Jessie’s hug.

  Dylan pulled it on, trying not to think too much about how she felt in her arms. He didn’t want the distraction. He didn’t need the distraction.

  But, Lord…she’d felt so good and right.

  He walked to the rear of the mobile home and tugged back the curtain serving as a door for the bedroom.

  Jessie lay there on the single mattress, sound asleep. One hand was tucked under her cheek, her face slightly obscured by her long, blond curls. Her other hand was tucked between her legs, her knees pulled up almost to her chest. There was a softness in her features, the hardcore professional mask slipping away and letting the woman show through.