Broken Hero Page 10

  “You're late,” I say.

  “I got hung up –”

  “I don't want your excuses,” I interject. “I want results. Do you have what I asked for?”

  He lets out a long breath, his eyes shifting to Antonio and Hector, before returning them to me. He clenches his jaw, and lifts his chin slightly, as if trying to put on an air of defiance. It's cute that he still thinks he has some semblance of control here.

  “What do you want with this woman?” he asks. “As best as I can tell, she never had anything to do with your – organization. She was a goddamn teacher. It was her brother, and you got him.”

  “My business with her is none of your concern,” I tell him.

  “It kind of is though,” Cullen replies. “I mean, I can't have you running around murdering innocent people. I'm barely okay with you cappin' scumbags like her brother. At least killing those kinds of people does a public service.”

  “Like I said, it's not your concern,” I repeat, and grind my teeth – repeating myself is something I hate about as much as waiting for somebody who's late.

  “With all due respect –”

  My patience with this man is at an end. “You seem to be of the mistaken belief that you have any say in anything I do, Marshal Cullen,” I snap. “You also seem to be of the mistaken belief that I care what you think or need your permission to conduct my business as I see fit. Rest assured, you have no say, nor do I give a shit what you think.”

  The look on Cullen's face goes from one of defiance to one of outright rage. You can only push a man so far before he snaps, and we have apparently come to the breaking point with Marshal Cullen. Like a caged or wounded animal, he seems intent on fighting back.

  The last thing I want to do is kill him though. Cultivating a source inside a federal bureau is an expensive and time-consuming process. Cullen is a relatively recent flip. I spent months, and countless thousands of dollars, setting him up. The last thing I want to do now is flush it all down the shitter, just because he has some misguided notion that he still has anything resembling free will left.

  Clearly, though, I need to make an impression upon him.

  I reach beneath my own jacket and have my gun pressed to his forehead before he even realizes what's happening. His eyes focus on the barrel of the nine-millimeter pistol that I'm holding, a sense of understanding seeming to dawn on him.

  “Let me make this clear, Marshal,” I grind out. “I have you on both audio and video, doing things that will not just end your marriage, and your career, but will send you to prison for a very, very long time. If you force me to use that information against you, I promise you that you'll be wishing I'd pulled this trigger. Make no mistake about it; you have three choices in this whole thing. One, you can do as I tell you to do. Two, you can let the information in my possession come to light. Or three, you can die – either by my hand, or yours. Those are your only options in this game. Do you understand me?”

  The air seems to go out of him, and his shoulders slump. The light of defiance that had been shining in his eyes goes out, and he's left looking like what he is – a broken, defeated man. A man whose life I now possess and control.

  “Do we have an understanding now, Marshal?”

  Slowly, he nods, the slump in his shoulders becoming more pronounced.

  “Excellent,” I say. “Now, do you have what I asked you for.”

  He slides his hand out of his pocket, and without a word, hands me a thumb drive. I look at it for a moment, before slipping my pistol back into the holster beneath my coat, and then take it from him.

  “This is everything I need? Including her location?”

  He nods but remains silent. Sullen.

  “Great,” I say. “Then we're done here. You're free to go. Just make sure you remain available to me when I call. I will have other tasks for you.”

  As if the very life has been sucked out of him, Cullen silently turns and walks back to his car. I watch him get in, start it up, and drive away. Like I said, at heart, Cullen is a coward, and if there is one thing cowards can always be counted on to do, it's act in their own best interests, and in a way that covers their own asses before anybody else's.

  Antonio holds the door open for me, and I climb into the SUV. Now that I have the information I need, I have plans to make.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isla

  I pace the living room, my stomach in knots, my head spinning. Even still, after getting definitive word from Dr. Givens, I'm having trouble accepting the reality that I'm pregnant. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I mean, I'm obviously going to have the baby. That's not a question. The only question in my mind right now is whether or not I'm going to talk to Tommy about it.

  I mean, on the one hand, he has a right to know. He's the father. On the other hand, I don't want to be tied to this man for the rest of my life. For one thing, what in the hell am I going to do if Parr shows up, and has to pull me out of here again? How am I going to explain it to Tommy? Or, would I just up and vanish like I did back in Dove Falls?

  I have nobody I can talk to. Nobody I can reach out to for advice or guidance. I'm completely isolated here and have no idea what to do. I can normally think my way through something critically, and logically, but not this time. There is no map or guidebook for any of this.

  “Fuck!” I curse. “What am I going to do?”

  Tears of frustration and fear well in my eyes, which only makes my pulse race even harder. I'm on the verge of hyperventilating and know I need to calm myself the hell down. Getting this worked up is not going to do me any favors. The only way I'm getting out of this is if I can keep my head and my wits about me.

  I walk into the kitchen and grab the bottle of wine from the top of the refrigerator. I'm just about to grab a glass from the cupboard when it hits me – I can't drink it. Placing a hand against my belly, I look at the bottle, and have to fight the urge to hurl it across the room. Instead, I pull the cork out, and pour the whole thing down the kitchen drain, mourning every last drop that I wash away.

  Finished with that, I drop the empty bottle into the trash can and sigh. My cellphone ringing draws my attention, so I hustle into the living room and grab it from the table. I groan when I see the call is coming from Marshal Parr.

  “What does he want now?” I grumble.

  Connecting the call, I press the phone to my ear. “Marshal Parr,” I say. “Twice in one week. This has to be some kind of rec –”

  “Listen to me, Isla,” he says. “You need to get out of the house. Now.”

  His words hit me like a sledgehammer to the midsection and drives the air right out of my lungs. I stand there, gasping for breath, hoping and praying I misunderstood him.

  “Isla,” he says again, his voice tight and firm. “Did you hear me?”

  “I – I heard you,” I stammer. “What happened? What's changed since you were here just a few days ago, Marshal?”

  He sighs heavily. “I've had a credible tip that they know where to find you,” he says. “Which means you need to get out now. They could already be on their way. Grab a few things – one bag at most. I'm going to text you an address, and I'm going to have somebody meet you –”

  “Y – you're not going to be there?”

  “I'm in New York right now, Isla,” he tells me.

  The thought of him not being there terrifies me more than anything else, as strange as it is to think. Through all of this turmoil and chaos my brother wrought upon my life, the one constant has been Parr. He's been there to shepherd me along the way. He's been the one to pull me out, and the one who's set me up in the next place.

  The idea of him not being here – of nobody being here – chills me to my core.

  “You won't be alone long, Isla,” he assures me. “I'm having somebody meet you. Somebody I trust with my life. You can too. But you need to go now. Now, Isla.”

  “I'm going.”

  My heart thundering in my breast, I disconnect the call and
then stand there with my hands on my head, completely frozen. I've always known this is a possibility – if not an eventuality – and have practiced what to do when it came to pass. Well, it's coming to pass, and I'm standing there like a goddamn deer in the headlights.

  “Snap out of it, Isla,” I scold myself. “Get your shit together.”

  The sound of a car on the street outside snaps me out of my stupor, and I run to the window. It's just the neighbor coming home from work and pulling into his driveway. I'm moving though, and all of my emergency drilling is coming back to me. I start to act, rather than stand there like an idiot. Running to my bedroom, I grab the bag I keep in the bottom of the closet. It's got some clothes, and other essentials – as well as the box Rory gave me three years ago.

  Running back out to the living room, I toss the bag by the door, then run to the closet to grab the other bag I keep ready to go. I've been expecting this day for the last three years. Figured it was a matter of when, not if.

  And yet, now that it's here, and I'm being pulled out of another place, it still hits me like a baseball bat to the midsection. I've done my best to keep myself guarded, and from ever feeling too comfortable here, and yet, now that I'm being forced to leave, I feel a sense of sadness washing over me. A sense of displacement and loss that I'm hard-pressed to explain.

  “I don't have time for this,” I mutter.

  I stand there a moment longer, running through the mental checklist in my head. I don't have time for the emotional garbage floating through my head at the moment. Right now, I need to be coldly logical.

  I think I have everything I'm taking with me. All of my personal mementos are in a storage locker that I'll have Parr clean out and bring to me when things settle down here. Everything else in the house is disposable. Grabbing my bags, I head out, toss them in the car, and jump behind the wheel. As I start the car though, a giant wave of guilt comes crashing down over me. It hits me so hard; it nearly steals my breath away.

  As I sit there with my car idling and my destination on my phone, I know that I can't leave without telling Tommy. Without at least saying goodbye to him. He won't understand, but I can do my best to at least help him try to. Despite his gruff exterior, he's a very sensitive man. He feels things deeply – a lot more deeply than anybody would ever think he could. And I know that if I just vanish, and I ghost him, it will devastate him.

  I may not be able to tell him where I'm going, but I can at least tell him why I'm leaving. Parr can't keep me from doing that much. If nothing else, it will hopefully make it a little easier for him going forward. At least he won't think it's his fault or spend months, maybe years, wondering what he did wrong. I owe him at least that much.

  “Screw it,” I say.

  Backing out of the driveway, I mash the accelerator and shoot forward into the rapidly darkening evening. It's going to be full dark out soon, and it's getting colder. There are dark clouds moving in overhead. Being out on the road is the last place I want to be tonight. Which means I need to make things with Tommy as quick as possible, then get the hell out of there.

  “Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” Tommy exclaims as he opens the door.

  “Hey, Tommy,” I say. “Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and all that.”

  “I'm glad you were,” he tells me. “Please, come in.”

  I swallow hard as I step into his house, my stomach churning. I'm still not sure what I'm going to say to him. The only thing I know for sure is that he'll never know I'm pregnant with his child. I just can't do that to him. If I tell him, he'll either insist that I stay, believing he can protect me. Or, he'll insist on coming with me – which is a non-starter. I can't afford for this to be an emotionally overwrought deal. I just need to tell him the basic facts. I just need to tell him all he needs to know – which isn't much. And then I'll be on my way to wherever Parr shuffles me off to next.

  We step into the living room, and Tommy steps forward to pull me into an embrace. I put my hands on his chest to stop him, a frown stretching across his face.

  “Everything okay, Mia?”

  “No. Not really,” I answer.

  His body tenses, and I know he can sense that something bad is about to happen. He's a good guy, and I wish I had some way to soften the blow, but I'm keenly aware of the sand slipping through the hourglass. I can almost literally feel each second ticking by, and it's making my own tension ratchet up even higher. I have no way of knowing how long the cartel has known where I'm at, or what they're planning on doing. For all I know, they could be at my house right this minute.

  The house is fairly sanitized, and I don't know if there's anything there that would lead them here to Tommy's place – I certainly hope there isn't – but, the sooner I put Grizzly Ridge in my rearview, the better. I need to say what I have to say and get out of there. As quickly as possible.

  “You might want to sit down for this, Tommy.”

  He doesn't say anything but takes a seat on his couch. He looks at me with a pained expression on his face that hurts me. He knows I'm about to end things – I just need to make sure he understands why. Looking into his kind, caring eyes, I'm having all kinds of problems getting the words out. I never wanted to hurt him, but I know this is going to be a hammer blow to his heart. I know he loves me with everything in him – I can see it in his eyes – I only wish I could return it. I wish I felt the same, and that he was enough for me.

  If he had been, maybe I could have worked something out with Parr that would have allowed me to bring him along. But, knowing that we have no future together, that I just don't feel that connected to him, I can't open the door on that possibility. No matter how bad and guilty I feel.

  “I have to go, Tommy,” I tell him.

  “Go where?”

  “I have to leave town,”

  “Okay,” he says, his expression one of confusion. “When will you be back?”

  “I won't be, Tommy,” I sigh. “I have to leave for good.”

  He shakes his head, trying to deny what I'm saying. “I don't understand, Mia, I love you. I –”

  “My name isn't Mia, Tommy. My name is Isla. Isla Nelson,” I explain. “I'm in federal witness protection for reasons I don't have time to explain to you right now. Just know that I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen. But there are some bad men coming for me, and I need to go. Now.”

  He takes a moment, processing everything I'm saying, the disbelief and shock in his eyes evident. He quickly shakes it off and looks at me with earnestness in his eyes – an earnestness I know I need to snuff out quickly.

  “Then I'll go with you,” he says. “I want to be wherever you are –”

  “You can't, Tommy,” I say. “I'm under federal protection. Which means, I can't bring anybody with me. Technically, I'm not even supposed to be telling you what I've told you. I just felt like I owed you an explanation, and didn't want to blow town, leaving you here to wonder why. You don't deserve that. You're a good man, Thomas. I want you to find somebody who can truly love and appreciate you the way you deserve to be loved and appreciated.”

  I hear car doors slamming outside, and immediately my blood runs cold. Tommy lives on the fringes of town and doesn't have neighbors who are very close to him. This isn't somebody pulling into the driveway next door. Somebody's here.

  “Oh God,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  “What is it?” he asks, still sounding stunned.

  I turn and run to the front door, quickly locking it. Pulling the curtain on the window beside the door aside, I peek out and see four large men coming up the walk. They're all dark skinned, with dark hair, and eyes. They look like hardened men. Men used to acts of violence and death. I start to tremble, and my throat suddenly goes dry.

  I turn and run back to the living room. Tommy is already on his feet, the expression of confusion on his face deepening. I don't know how they found me. They must have found something in my house after all – unless they fol
lowed me from my house. Or maybe, they found out about Tommy the same way they found out where I'm living and what my new identity is.

  It doesn't matter. It's all academic at this point. All that matters right now is surviving.

  “We have to go, Tommy,” I rush out. “We need to get out of here right now.”

  “What's going on, Mia?”

  “I don't have time to explain. We need to go. Now. Out the back.”

  The thumping on the door is hard, rattling it in the frame. Tommy looks at the door, his expression morphing from confusion to fear. It's as if he suddenly understands the peril we're in. I know he doesn't know what's on the other side of that door, but he knows it's not good. He grabs my hand, and the thundering on the door continues, as we start moving toward the back of the house, intending to escape through the backyard.

  We make it as far as the dining room when front door bursts in with the sound of an explosion going off. The house is filled with the sound of wood splintering, glass shattering, and then footsteps hurrying through the house. Tommy guides me into the kitchen, out of sight of the front room, and presses me up against the wall beside the doorway. The sound of footsteps and men speaking to each other in Spanish fills the air.

  “You need to get out of here,” Tommy says quietly. “Go, get out of here. Save yourself, Mia.”

  Before I can say anything, he practically picks me up, and throws me into the mudroom, pulling the door closed, and locking it behind him. I scream his name as I hear his footsteps retreating from the kitchen. I hear his voice through the door. It's muffled, so I can't make out what he's saying. That's followed by the sound of the men who'd just broken in, demanding to know where I'm at. All of their words are muffled, but I hear the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh, as one of them obviously punches Tommy. Tears roll down my cheeks, thick and heavy.

  “You stupid man,” I whisper. “You stupid, stupid man.”

  It tears at my heart, but Tommy sealed his fate the moment he locked me in the mudroom. There's nothing I can do. Nothing but do what Tommy told me to do – what he's sacrificing himself to give me the chance to do – and that's to get the hell out of there. As quietly as I can, I open the back door to the mudroom and step outside. It lets out on the side yard, which gives me a clear shot to my car in the driveway.