Eyewitness Man and Wife Read online

Grappell rattled off an address in North Dallas. Ree opened a kitchen drawer in search of a pen and paper before realizing she could just plug the address into her encrypted phone.

  “Do you trust him?” Quint asked Grappell point-blank.

  “Can we afford not to?” Ree asked, jumping in before Grappell could answer.

  “Ree makes a good point,” Grappell said. “How do I write this up?”

  “This inmate is promising names with A-12, correct?” Quint asked.

  “That’s what he said,” Grappell confirmed. “He seemed very nervous someone might already be on the way to get his wife and daughter.”

  Quint looked to Ree. “What do you think?”

  She was already grabbing her purse and running shoes. “I think we have no choice but to get to them first.”

  “Call Bjorn and let her know what’s going down,” Quint stated as he followed Ree. “She won’t want to read about this in a report. Especially if two innocent people end up dead—three, if they get to the inmate.”

  “Got it,” Grappell confirmed. “I’ll send over the inmate’s name and information. He said his family might take some convincing, so you’ll want to tell them some personal details about him. They’ll ask about his birthday and his favorite book. You’re supposed to give them his daughter’s birthday and his favorite movie. The trick is that he doesn’t like to read because he’s dyslexic. That’s how they’ll know you were sent by him.”

  “You drive.” Ree ushered Quint out the front door before locking it behind them. From the looks of it, they were headed to Dallas, and back in the thick of the case.

  Chapter Two

  Quint raced to his vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat as Ree hopped into the passenger side. Cell phone in her palm, the target address filled her screen after a couple of taps. The urgency of the situation demanded they table any relationship conversation, which was probably for the best. No one had ever been able to hurt her the way Quint Casey could. She needed to remember that before she ended up with her heart ripped out of her chest.

  At forty-two years old, the man had aged to perfection. He was tall and, basically, a solid wall of muscle. Don’t even get her started on those sapphire-blue eyes of his, the storm brewing behind them making him even sexier. His muscled torso formed an improbable V at the waist and even with day-old stubble on his chin, the man would be considered hot by most standards. He had the kind of body most athletic recruiters would kill for if he was college age. He had the whole look—chiseled jawline, strong, hawklike nose and piercing eyes. Being intelligent put him in a whole new stratosphere.

  Intense would be a good word to describe his personality, but he seemed like the type to intensely love someone if he ever truly let them inside. His upbringing had hardened him. He’d been born in a trailer park and raised by a single mother whom he unabashedly referred to as a saint. She’d worked two jobs after his father walked out not long after Quint was born, and she was the reason he got his act together when he’d gone astray in high school.

  Now, he blamed himself for his former partner’s death and the fact would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. Tessa Kind had been pregnant. She’d convinced him not to tell Bjorn right away, saying she needed time to adjust to the news. The child’s father took off after she’d told him. Tessa had asked Quint to be the baby’s godfather. The bust that took her life had been complicated by DEA involvement. Someone went left when they should have gone right. Tessa had been killed by mistake. One person had escaped the bust that night, Dumitru. Ree had read the file in detail after the Houston case.

  A person like Quint wouldn’t take letting down someone he loved lightly, and he’d loved Tessa more than if he’d had a blood-related little sister.

  It was most likely the real reason he’d left the suitcase in his truck. He would never allow himself to be happy. He wouldn’t see it as fair to Tessa. Since Ree couldn’t compete with a ghost, she probably needed to protect her own heart. Quint Casey could wreck her.

  The ride to Dallas was quiet as Quint concentrated on the road, gripping the steering wheel like he was about to make damn sure it didn’t go anywhere. Brooding would be a good word to describe the agent sitting next to her. He had his game face on, and a family was at stake.

  “GPS says we’re almost there,” Ree said, breaking the silence.

  Quint glanced at the clock. “Do you want to do the honors?”

  “I’ll shoot the text,” Ree said, firing off the okay to Grappell to send in the federal agents, who’d been parked outside the prison gates in a white minivan for the last twenty minutes. “Axel Ivan will be in protective custody in the next five minutes.”

  Quint nodded but he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to for her to know what was running through his thoughts. Ivan might already be dead. He could be hanging in his prison cell by now. He’d taken a huge personal risk in speaking to Agent Grappell on the phone. One that could cost his life. And since the death rate for prisoners related to this case was high, Quint would be tense with worry until he knew Ivan was safely in custody.

  Getting to the family before anyone else just took on a new priority now that they’d given the okay to extract Ivan. The North Dallas address was near, so Quint exited the Dallas North Tollway onto Frankford Road. He headed east toward Preston Road. Ivan’s wife and daughter lived in a gated community to the right, past the grocery store and strip mall that was on the left.

  Beyond the entrance was a large lake. The waterfall was visible from the turn-in. Quint stopped at the guard shack and flashed his badge. The rent-a-cop was short and hefty. He didn’t look like he could outrun a turtle. The weapon strapped to his side was most likely a commercial-grade stun gun. Not exactly stellar security but he would probably have 911 on speed dial, anyway.

  “Go on through, sir.” The security guard pressed a button—the gate almost immediately opened and he waved them in. Grappell would have already made arrangements for them to get past the first line of defense.

  “Ivan’s wife lives in a town house along the road that circles the community,” she informed him. The houses in this area probably started at close to a million dollars. The place where his wife and kid lived would probably be about half to three quarters of the starter-home price in this neighborhood. Ree sighed. Unfortunately, crime paid.

  It also came with a price and Ivan’s family were targets now that the text came from Grappell, confirming the extraction.

  “He’s alive,” Ree said to Quint. He grunted an acknowledgement. She didn’t take offense. He was focused, concentrating all his energy on the task at hand, and probably fighting off the instinct to ask her to wait in the truck. He’d never treated her like anything but an equal.

  Ree scanned the street. No one in this neighborhood parked out front. The road was quiet and clear. Too quiet? Too clear? Adrenaline kicked her body into high gear. Her senses sharpened as she went on full alert. A front-gate guard could be bought.

  From the side-view mirror, Ree caught sight of a vehicle barreling toward them. Based on the map she’d studied on the way over, there were woods at the very back of the property. If leaving the way they came, which happened to be the lone entrance, was out of the question, they could get to the back wall, climb it and run into the woods. On the other side was a nice neighborhood that wasn’t gated, and possible freedom.

  If they’d had time, they could have planted an agent there. But the fewer people who knew about this extraction, the better.

  “Do you see that?” she asked Quint but he was already studying the rearview mirror. He reached underneath the driver’s seat and pulled out a Glock at the same time Ree gripped hers. Cell phone in one hand, she tried to snap a picture of the license plate of the black Acura gunning for them. The suspension had been tweaked, turning the vehicle into one of those lowriders with oversize tires.

  “I’ll swerve as he gets close, blocking the road. You bolt out the passenger side and get to Ivan’s family,” Quint said. Neither had to point out all this would be for nothing if they couldn’t save Ivan’s wife and daughter. He would clam up faster than a metal trap that had been stepped on by a bear.

  “Let’s do this,” Ree said.

  Quint stomped the brake, causing the truck to slant sideways before coming to a screeching halt. The second it slowed down, Ree wasted no time in making a run for it. The town house was half a block away and the Ivans lived in unit number three.

  Thankfully, Ree had on tennis shoes and joggers. The August heat threatened to melt the bottom of her shoes before she reached the target. Summers in Texas weren’t for the faint of heart. Gunfire caused her to duck and then run in a zigzag pattern to make herself a more difficult target. Cell phone in hand, she managed to fire off a text to Grappell. He would be on standby, waiting to hear from her. The only word she needed to send was help.

  * * *

  QUINT HAD POSITIONED the truck at an angle, blocking the small one-lane residential street as the souped-up Acura with blacked-out windows skidded to a stop fifteen feet away. Rubber tires scorched the pavement. The sun glared against the windshield, making it impossible to see who was driving or how many were inside the vehicle. He had no idea if the gunshot had come from the driver or a passenger. Either way, Quint lowered himself in the seat, making as small a target as humanly possible.

  There was no way he could identify himself as an ATF agent if he wanted to stay under the radar. He glanced over to the passenger side of his truck and saw Ree disappear around the block.

  The driver of the Acura revved the engine. A threat? Quint couldn’t get a look at the driver or a decent shot. He was responsible for every bullet f
ired and wouldn’t risk a civilian getting hurt.

  A front door swung open, and a woman stood at the threshold with a cell phone to her ear, looking more angry than scared and no doubt calling the cops. She must have thought the gunshot was a car backfiring. It would make sense with the Acura.

  The Acura driver reversed the vehicle and then gunned it. The woman stepped onto her perfectly decorated porch and behind her impeccably designed landscaping. The houses, lawns and people were flawless in this million-dollar neighborhood.

  Quint had to stop the driver before he got to Ree and the Ivans first. She had a decent head start but was on foot and would have to convince Axel’s wife to trust her. Not exactly an easy accomplishment given Axel’s criminal history. His wife would be trained to be suspicious of strangers, especially those trying to rush her from her home with her daughter to keep them safe. She would be reluctant to accept help from anyone without first receiving word from Axel.

  Rather than chase the Acura, Quint backed up, then turned around to the direction he’d been going before jackknifing his vehicle. He would idle his truck in front of the town house and wait for the Acura to make a move. Either way, Quint could block access long enough to hopefully give Ree time to work her magic and get away.

  The Acura came up behind Quint. The driver must have figured out Quint’s plan. This way, he was at a slight disadvantage because he’d have to do everything in reverse. The driver was smart—Quint would give him that.

  After putting the gearshift in reverse, he backed up before the Acura could get close enough to get a good shot off. The sound of a police siren split the air, but it was clear to Quint the squad car wouldn’t arrive in time.

  Quint grabbed a ball cap from the seat and threw it onto his head to shield as much of his face as possible from the Acura driver. He bolted out of the driver’s seat, arms out in front of him with his Glock leading the way. Keeping low would allow him to use the truck to block any bullets as he came around the front of the vehicle. No matter what else happened, he couldn’t allow the Acura driver to get to the town house before him.

  A quick glance to his left as he rounded the front of the truck said Ree had either worked her way inside the town house, or gone around the back. Using the back door would be tricky considering the Ivans would most likely have some form of protection. An aggressive-sounding dog barked nearby. Close enough to belong to Mrs. Ivan? Other random dog barks had already been filling the air. Then, there was the siren. Close enough to let Quint know help was on the way. Far enough that people could be dead by the time it reached them.

  He needed to stack the deck in his favor. For the moment, at least, the driver seemed hesitant to make a run for the town house on foot. Quint needed to make sure he stayed where he was.

  The crack of a bullet echoed, and it pinged off the side of the truck. Quint ducked.

  New game plan. He dropped down on all fours and took aim. His marksman training came in handy, as he fired a shot and hit the front left tire of the Acura. His second shot was dead on, as well, nailing the front right tire.

  That should slow down the bastard when he tried to drive off.

  The door of the Acura opened and closed. Suddenly, Quint was staring at a pair of black running shoes. The driver was either abandoning the vehicle or about to charge the town house. Either way, Quint couldn’t let the guy off the hook and he sure as hell couldn’t let him out of his sight.

  At this point, Quint had no idea where Ree was or if she’d gotten the wife and kid to agree to run.

  Not knowing was the worst feeling. His mind momentarily went back to when he’d paced up and down a hallway on the sterile white tile of Parkland Hospital’s trauma unit, where Tessa had been airlifted to. Minutes had ticked by. Then, an hour was gone.

  The news had been delivered by the ER doc and Bjorn. Quint snapped out of it before he hit the point of no return on that road again. The one that always led to a vicious cycle that kept him beating himself up.

  The man from the Acura was making a run for it. Quint shook out of his funk and popped to his feet, bolting after the guy. The runner was much shorter than Quint and lighter. He was quick, with less bulk to carry, and the guy ran fast enough to make the college track team. Too bad he’d wasted his talents on being a criminal instead. An adrenaline push probably wasn’t helping matters.

  Since Speed Runner had abandoned his vehicle, Quint figured it was probably registered to a phantom person if it had a registration at all.

  Speed Runner jumped a fence and Quint cursed. His lungs already burned as much as his thighs, but the jogging-suit-in-August-wearing bastard didn’t get to win.

  As Quint scaled the fence, Speed Runner turned and fired a wild shot. The bullet pinged the bricks on the corner of the home ten feet away because he hadn’t taken the time to aim. In the next second, he was already scaling the ten-foot-high wooden privacy fence this area was famous for. No one wanted strangers to have the ability to see what went on in their backyard. No fences in the front, not even wire ones. North Texas backyards were sacred. Quint wished Speed Runner would have taken them on that tour instead. His chest wouldn’t be burning nearly as badly right now. He was also fairly certain he’d be picking splinters out of his fingers long after this chase ended.

  Five blocks over, Speed Runner started slowing. The first sign he was running out of steam at this blistering pace sent a wave of relief over Quint. He was a couple of steps behind the younger, faster runner but Quint had something this kid didn’t—stamina.

  The sirens were closing in on the neighborhood. Could Quint get this guy and keep his own identity a secret? Security would have been alerted to allow them passage, but he wouldn’t necessarily be told why. Quint would have to allow himself to be arrested, which would leave Ree on her own. She was fully capable of doing her job without him there to hold her hand.

  And yet the thought of leaving his partner vulnerable ate at him from the inside out. Let this guy go and he could be a problem for Ree. He was still armed and dangerous. She was out here somewhere.

  Speed Runner continued slowing down, and Quint maintained his pace. At this rate, he would catch up to Speed Runner in a matter of seconds. His lungs gasped for air but he knew exactly how far he could push his body, and he had a little more gas in the tank.

  He was almost within reach, but Speed Runner whirled around and jabbed a knife into Quint’s side. Quint was close enough to knock the weapon out of Speed Runner’s hand as it went off. The bullet shot through a fence. Quint winced, praying there’d be no scream to indicate an innocent civilian had been hit.

  Quint dove at Speed Runner’s knees a second after he turned to run. He connected and heard an immediate snap. A broken bone would slow down this bastard. Stopping a second ago to shoot had cost the jerk his freedom. Speed Runner bounced to his good foot. From the corner of Quint’s eye, he saw security running toward them. Speed Runner tried to shake him off, but his grip on Speed Runner’s ankle was unbreakable. Quint rolled onto his back, grabbed Speed Runner’s other ankle and squeezed. Speed Runner cried out in pain as Quint jerked the man’s feet out from under him.

  Speed Runner landed with a thud and a grunt as all air seemed to whoosh from his lungs. Before he could make another move, Quint rolled on top of him, flipped the guy facedown before he knew what hit him and then practically crushed him with powerful thighs as he secured him in place.

  “Freeze,” Security said.

  “Detain this jerk until the police arrive while I check on my friend. His gun is over there,” Quint motioned toward the metal glinting through blades of green grass a few feet away. “Do it now. I have to go.”

  Security complied, handcuffing Speed Runner before securing the weapon and calling it in. With no sign of Ree, Quint could only hope Speed Runner had acted alone.

  Chapter Three

  “Keep your head down and stay as quiet as you can for me. Okay?” Ree crouched in front of Axel’s wife, Laurie, and his daughter, Ariana, as the two huddled together in between the brick home and Japanese boxwoods. The common shrubs had been elevated into a row of perfectly symmetrical round balls.