Thread of Danger (The Joe Tyler Series Book 7) Page 12

  But based on the way everyone stood at attention the minute she entered the room, she was Curry.

  She took in the scene before her, taking her time as she moved her eyes across everyone's faces. She looked neither happy nor unhappy, more like someone studying paintings in a museum for the first time. Assessing. Speculating. Her eyes stayed on Aaron for a fraction longer than anyone else before she folded her arms across her chest.

  Her carefully composed features took on a look of annoyance. “What exactly is the problem here?” she asked, her voice low, controlled, void of emotion.

  Gerald glanced at her. “Nick called me. Think he can explain.”

  She looked at Nick, one of the thin eyebrows arched, waiting.

  Nick cleared his throat and tugged on the hem of his shirt with his free hand. “The one kid, he's been growing in the canyon. We told him to get lost, he came back and was selling down in Cat City. We caught him on the cameras. The rest of these people came looking for him. We brought them here because we thought he'd come looking for them. And he did.”

  Curry kept her eyes on him for a long moment. “That's it? That's the story?”

  Nick cleared his throat again. His hand drifted to his neckline and he fingered it. “Yeah. I mean, he's on our turf and we—”

  The woman held up a hand and he bit off his words.

  “I didn't want to bring them here,” Jillian said quickly. “For what it's worth. They aren't involved and don't need to be here.”

  Nick cut her a nasty look.

  Curry turned partially in her direction but didn't look at the redheaded woman who’d smashed her gun in my face, the woman I was still hoping would be more of an ally than a threat. It looked like Curry was listening to her, considering her words, and my hopes rose a fraction. Then she fixed her gaze on Aaron.

  “Are you growing in my canyon?” she asked him. Her expression was back to neutral and it was hard to imagine her as an upper-level drug dealer. She looked more like a yoga instructor or a salesperson at a department store make-up counter.

  Aaron looked calmer than when Gerald had been questioning him, which was foolish on his part. He was too naïve, too dumb to realize that the woman standing in front of him now, coolly assessing him, held all the cards. “I...I didn't know it was yours. I just had a few plants that I wanted to grow there. But I didn't know it was yours. I swear I didn't know.”

  “But we told him that,” Nick interjected, a sneer on his face. “We told him that the first time. And then he went and sold down in town.”

  Curry kept her eyes on Aaron. “Is that accurate?”

  Aaron hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. But I swear, I won't come back. You can have what I was growing. I won't ever come back.”

  Curry looked at Gerald. “This is a pain in the ass,” she said, lifting her hand and examining a red-tipped nail.

  Gerald grunted his agreement.

  She turned back to us. “Who are the rest of you?” She was beautiful, with her long hair and blue eyes and her make-up expertly done, but I knew better than to trust a pretty face.

  “He's a friend of my daughter's,” I said. I tried to explain in a matter-of-fact tone and not let my exasperation of having to rehash the story for what felt like the hundredth time flavor my words. “He came up with his friend and then went missing. He now says it was because he got lost trying to find his plants. My daughter was back in San Diego and she was worried when the friend Aaron was with texted and told her he was missing. She asked if we could come up to help look for him so we did. Then we ran into your people.”

  Curry stroked a long lock of hair, curling the end around her index finger. “My people. Yes.”

  She continued to mess with her hair, combing her fingers through it. Her detached air bothered me. I didn't think it was because she wasn't angry or because she didn't consider us to be a threat. I thought it was because she thought we could be easily dealt with and disposed of. For the first time since we'd run into the lot of them, the alarm in my head was suddenly sounding a five-alarm fire.

  Curry turned to Nick. “And why did you think it would be a good idea to bring the party here?”

  Nick looked like he wanted to sprint from the room. His cheeks and neck flushed pink and a fine sheen of sweat popped on his forehead. “Uh...well, because they were in your canyon. I didn't know if he was stealing or what. And he'd been warned once before. They were with him. I just...I didn't think we should leave them there.”

  She clucked her tongue and tapped her toe against the ground.

  The others looked around at each other, nervously.

  She reached out and put her hand under Nick's chin, lifting it slightly. Nick's eyes widened.

  “You're a good boy, Nick,” she said, smiling, revealing a set of model-white teeth. “Not the brightest bulb, but you always mean well. I appreciate that, even if it means having to live with some of your dumb decisions sometimes.”

  Nick tried to smile, but he didn't seem sure how to take her words. The broken canine was barely visible.

  Curry removed her hand from his chin and turned to Jillian. “I'm surprised you couldn't talk him out of it.”

  “I tried,” Jillian answered. She shifted her weight, clearly nervous but trying not to show it. “I said we didn't need the hassle and that they weren't the issue. The kid is the issue.”

  Curry nodded slowly. “Right. And usually you're persuasive.”

  Jillian shrugged in a noncommittal way. I didn’t blame her; it was hard to figure out if the woman had meant it as a compliment or an insult. “He thought different, and I wasn't going to argue up there, especially with the storm kicking up. Figured we'd bring them back and let it get sorted out. But I still think we should let them go. We don't need this kind of problem. They aren't the issue. The kid is the issue.”

  Curry's lips were set in a thin line, but she still managed to smile. “Yes. He's the issue.”

  The electricity buzzed in the overhead lights and the silence was overwhelming. There was the faint sound of rain hitting the pavement outside, but otherwise, the world was absolutely still. Waiting.

  There was something at work that we weren't privy, too. I wasn't sure what the relationship between Jillian and Curry was, but there was a current ebbing between them right then that seemed a little off-kilter. It was one more thing ringing my internal alarm, sending me into a new state of near panic. I had to do something, soon.

  “I just didn't think we shouldn't leave them,” Nick offered. He wiped at his damp forehead. “I didn't know who was who.”

  Curry smiled at him, similar to the way you might smile at a puppy that had just inadvertently urinated all over the floor. “I know, Nick. It's fine. Really.”

  “I just didn't think—”

  She held up a hand again and he swallowed whatever he was going to say.

  She turned back to Jillian. “Are you sure there wasn't another reason? Why you wanted to let them go?”

  My breath caught in my throat. It was the same thing I had wondered, the same niggling sensation I’d had that something wasn’t right about her and her connection with the men she was working with.

  Jillian studied her for a moment, then she shrugged, more annoyed than deferential. “No. Why else would I care?”

  Curry squared her shoulders in Jillian's direction and put her hands on her hips. She tilted her head to the side, and her long blonde hair fell forward, spilling over her shoulders. “Maybe because you're a cop?”

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Jillian's eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  Elizabeth was still standing next to me and she stiffened.

  “You heard me,” Curry said calmly.

  Nick and Gerald were frozen in place, their eyes wide. The other men in the room sported similar expressions. Aaron was watching with a look of confusion.

  “What the hell are you even talking about?” Jillian said, frowning. But I saw the subtle shake of her hand, the way a muscle in her neck pinged ti
ght.

  Curry's smile grew, but it wasn't friendly. “I'm suggesting that you wanted to let them go because you're a police officer.”

  Jillian's expression didn't change. “Again, what the hell are you talking about?”

  Curry flipped a hand in the air. “I mean, maybe not a police officer. I don't know exactly who you work for. But I know one thing: it isn't me.”

  There were some low murmurs from the men standing at attention, but one look from Curry stunned them into silence. The atmosphere in the room shifted with Curry's accusation. Jillian was coiled tight, like a spring about to break, and the men appeared confused by the woman’s assertion.

  But I didn't think Curry was wrong.

  Jillian hadn't seemed right in the role of drug thug since the moment she'd pointed the shotgun at us. She'd been too sharp and too willing to let us go. Her questions and suggestions to me had cemented that in my head. I hadn't pegged her for a cop, but I couldn't place exactly what her role was. So as the disbelieving eyes directed themselves toward her, I had no problem believing Curry was correct.

  And that scared the hell out of me, because we were now in the middle of something far bigger. And with no foreseeable way out.

  Jillian frowned and she let out a slow breath. “I'm not sure why you're telling me this or what you think you know, but you're dead wrong. And I resent the fact that you're putting this shit on me. I've been loyal to you, to a fault. So don't pull that shit with me.”

  Curry's smile broadened and she brought her hands together for a slow clap. She clapped for a good stretch of time and the sound echoed in the cabin, bouncing off the wood walls. “Man, that was great. Were you in theater in high school? Because you are good. Very, very good.”

  I saw something very small flicker in Jillian's expression.

  “I mean, I guess I could go back and pull the records from that high school in Tucson,” Curry said. “Pretty sure I could get them. But your grades at Arizona State might be easier to get.”

  The flicker grew. “So I went to school in Arizona? So what? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  Curry frowned. “Really? This is how we're gonna do this?” She shook her head and sighed. “Okay. Fine. Two months ago. I sent you out to Laughlin. You did your job. Well, as always. But a couple days later, I got a call.” She smiled, revealing those perfect teeth again. But this time she looked more like a shark than a model. “A friend working in a hotel happened to see you in the parking lot, doing your job. He saw Gerald with you. He knows Gerald and he knows me. And as it turns out, he knows you.”

  Jillian was listening. She hadn't broken yet and I didn't expect her to, but I didn't think the story Curry was telling was wrong.

  I let my eyes move around the room. The guy in the Raiders shirt was closest to me, two hard steps to my right. The other two who had returned with him either left their guns behind or had them stuck in a waistband I couldn't see. I didn't see a weapon in Gerald's hand, but I assumed he was armed. Curry seemed clean, probably because she had the track jacket guy, who had his gun at his side. That left guns with Nick and Jillian.

  It wasn't a good number, even assuming Jillian and I might be on the same side.

  I edged a little closer to the Raiders kid as everyone watched Curry and Jillian. I moved my eyes back to Elizabeth who was watching me. I mouthed, “get down” to her. Her brows furrowed together. I held her gaze for a moment, then she nodded.

  I hoped she'd understood me.

  Tim and Aaron were too fixated on Curry and Jillian to notice.

  “Then someone's lying to you,” Jillian said. “Plain and simple.”

  “I thought so, too,” Curry said, nodding. “I really did. Because he started telling me that this girl he knew at ASU was in the criminal justice program and he'd heard she'd gone on to be a cop. And he told me her name was Shannon Barton. And he said that unless she had a twin sister, Shannon Barton was the chick in the parking lot with Gerald.”

  “That isn't my name,” Jillian said, shaking her head. “You know that. He's wrong.”

  Curry tilted her head again. “You think? Because that was what I thought, too. No way. Not my Jillian, who's been working for me for two years and does everything I ask. No way. But then, I don't know. It just felt goofy.” She brushed at her hair, ran her fingers through the strands. “Figured it wouldn't hurt to check it out, just so I could call my friend back and tell him he was wrong.”

  I slid another couple inches closer to the Raiders kid. His gun was at his side in his left hand. I was almost close enough to reach out and grab it.

  “So I made a couple of calls,” Curry continued. “Some people who owe me favors and some people who can get into things. Like computers and a whole bunch of shit I don't understand. And you know what one of them sent me yesterday?” She grinned. “Guess. I dare you.”

  Jillian didn't say anything, her expression impassive.

  Curry's grin morphed into a full-fledged smile. “What? You don't wanna play my game?” She sighed again. “Fine. I'll play without you. My guy sent me a piece of paper with the copy of a driver's license on it. From ten years ago. For someone named Shannon Barton.” She smiled. “And no shit. It had your picture on it.”

  Jillian stayed quiet.

  “So after I realized you'd lied about your name, I had my guy dig a little more,” Curry explained. “It didn't take him long to pull your name off a government payroll.” Curry grinned. “My guy is good, yo. He doesn't mess around. I'll have to pay big time for it. But I think it's worth it.” Her blue eyes sparkled and the smile was as cold as a Minnesota blizzard. “Don't you think, Jillian? You motherfucking lying bitch.”

  Jillian's eyes moved around the room, examining the accusing glares of everyone standing around. When she met my gaze, she might've lingered an extra fraction of a second. I wasn't sure if she'd realized that I'd moved closer to the nearest gun and was trying to gauge where I was in all this, but her eyes moved quickly on.

  “You're fucking insane,” Jillian finally said. “That's all bullshit.”

  “It's all bullshit?” Curry said, raising her eyebrows at her. “It's all bullshit? Honey, when you get caught it's best to just acknowledge it and hope that the bullet comes fast and quick. Instead of lying, I'd be begging me to fuck you up fast.”

  “It's all bullshit,” Jillian said. “I don't know who is telling you what, but they're wrong. Why don't you bring your hotel friend here and put them in front of me? Then let's see who's full of shit.”

  Curry smiled again. “That's a nice play right there. Buy a little time, see if you can wiggle out of it.” She shook her head. “But this is airtight.” Her smile dissolved and her entire face went hard and she suddenly looked like the woman I knew she would be: a cold-hearted, ruthless criminal who would stop at nothing to protect what was hers and to punish those who defied or betrayed her. “You're a liar and a cop and you're fucking dead.” Curry's eyes flickered in my direction. “And these people? I have no idea who these people are right now. All I know is you found them and brought them here and that makes me nervous since now we know you're a liar. So while they look like nice people and all, they are, I believe, what we call collateral damage at this point.” She cut her eyes back to Jillian. “Because you are so fucking dead.”

  Elizabeth gasped and it was either Tim or Aaron who let out a strangled cry but I held on, my eyes never leaving Jillian.

  Jillian's gray eyes cut in my direction, then back to Curry. “Then I guess it's time to go.”

  TWENTY NINE

  I stepped hard to my right, pivoted, and punched Raiders in the temple. As he stumbled, I grabbed his arm and swung in the direction of Nick.

  The first explosion came from Jillian's rifle and it made a hole in the chest of the guy in the track jacket.

  Nick was turning in that direction and I squeezed the trigger in the kid's hand twice. My aim was high and the bullets splintered the wood just above his head. Nick jerked and sprint
ed for the hallway, trying to get his gun up. I rotated with him and fired again. The shots went high again, but Nick turned his back to me and took off.

  Several more explosions of gunfire filled the living room.

  Tim tumbled backward and both Elizabeth and Aaron were on the floor.

  Jillian rotated and did the same thing to Gerald—whose hand was coming up with a pistol—that she'd done to the track jacket guy. Gerald stumbled forward and then crashed to the floor.

  Curry and the remaining two were flying down the hallway behind Nick, toward the back of the house. Jillian fired above them, but unlike me, she'd done it on purpose. I saw the way she set her feet, then raised the barrel upward. I assumed she had her reasons, but I didn't have time to ask what they were.

  I pivoted back to the Raiders kid and nailed him again in the temple. This time, his legs went slack and I slid the gun from his hand as he crumpled to the floor.

  “There's no back exit,” Jillian said quickly. “Only way they can go is to come back out. Can you cover? I'm gonna check the vehicle out front.”

  “Go,” I said.

  She sprinted through the front door.

  I squatted down and moved quickly to my left so I could have a better look at the hallway.

  It was empty for the moment.

  “Dad!” Elizabeth shrieked, and my heart almost stopped. “He's bleeding!”

  I slid back to my right and looked in her direction. Tim was sitting up, but the right shoulder of his T-shirt was darker than it should have been. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack, his face even paler than before, which somehow didn’t seem possible.

  “Lay him down,” I said. “Put your hands over his shirt where he was hit. Press hard on it, even if it hurts him.”

  Aaron was on the other side of Tim and they laid him back.

  Jillian was back. She glanced around, her ponytail swinging as she assessed the room. “No keys. And I can hear cars coming. She must've called backup. Fuck.”