Page 43 of Deadly Target
He resumed washing dried blood from her face and putting witch hazel on the scratches. If he could keep her in the chair and talking, he’d have her doctored in five minutes, tops. “It would make sense for Frankie to send someone to take out Valiant in order to stop his testimony. The judge pulled his cellmate from general population, by the way, in order to protect him, so we still have the opportunity to get the goods on Frankie. But it’s possible Frankie used members of the Kings, rather than his own people, to take out Valiant. He certainly made a statement to anyone else who might be thinking of turning state’s evidence against him.”
Her eyes grew wary and curious at the same time. “Why would six members of the Kings do a hit for Frankie?”
“Roman and I have a theory.”
She flinched when he dabbed the cut next to her temple. “Lay it on me.”
“We believe the two organizations—the Fifty-seven Gang and Suarez cartel—are working together.”
Her spine straightened, drawing her away. “They’re sworn enemies. They hate each other. Gino is trying to run the Kings out of town.”
Even banged up and worried, she was beautiful. He wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her, but the deputy marshal wasn’t in the mood for a consoling hug. “They could be working together to capitalize on each other’s specific skills and resources.”
Disbelief made her shake her head. “No way. They would never do that.”
He gave up doctoring her, going to a cupboard and pulling down a bottle of brandy. He fished out a couple of clean glasses and poured them each a shot. Returning to the table, he handed one to her.
His phone rang and Tracee’s name popped up on the ID. Damn, with the shooting and the aftermath, he hadn’t had a chance to call her. He definitely wasn’t driving up to her place at this hour and leaving Olivia alone.
“You should answer that,” she said, looking miserable. “It could be Celina or your friend from Homeland.”
“It’s my ex,” he confessed, wanting to keep things as honest as possible. “She’s worried about a stalker, but she’s fine, trust me. I’ve got someone watching her place.”
When Olivia wouldn’t look at him, he took her chin and raised it so she had to. “You’re the only one I’m worried about at the moment.”
She gave him a hint of a smile. “Your theory doesn’t make sense.”
He took his seat again. “Criminals do a lot of things that don’t make sense, right? But it’s not unusual for the mafia to work with other criminal organizations. They’ve done it with terrorist groups, both international and homegrown, as well as motorcycle gangs, and various other entities.”
Tap, tap, tap.She drummed her fingers against the glass before downing the brandy in one gulp. “True, but…if theyare, what about Cooper’s shooting and the bomb meant for Thomas? Are both organizations involved?”
The brandy was warm on the back of his tongue. “Cooper spotted a King at the park before he was shot, and the guy seemed to be sizing him up. Maybe he was IDing Cooper for his counterpart in that building across the street.”
She fell quiet for a moment, the wheels turning. “Something my CI said keeps going ’round in my head. I asked him about Cooper’s shooting, and he said, ‘We never miss.’ So maybe it wasn’t one of the mafia guys, and it was indeed a King.”
His phone quit vibrating, Tracee’s call going to voicemail. “Roman’s group finally tracked down one of the members who has explosive experience and brought her in for questioning. She did not give up any specifics about the bomb under Thomas’s car, but she alluded to the hit squad going after Henry Valiant today. Roman called me just as I hit Los Angeles. The woman had not given specifics about who the hit was on, but I put two and two together, fearing exactly what happened.”
She sighed, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. “And that one came back to make sure Valiant was dead. He tried to put a few bullets in me as well.”
He touched her shoulder, pushed some hair behind her ear. “But he didn’t.”
She raised her head and met his eyes. “Because you stopped him. I owe you my life.”
He was desperate to see her smile again. He gave her a cocky grin. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”
Her hand grabbed his and squeezed. She threaded her fingers through his. “I’m serious. Thank you.”
Coming out of his chair, he leaned forward and kissed her across the table. She tasted like the brandy and he wanted more, but held himself in check. She’d been through too much in the past few hours, so he placed his other hand behind her neck, gently cradling her sore skull. “My pleasure.”
She came out of the chair and into his arms. She kissed him, needy and demanding, her hands working over the muscles in his arms, his back.
He broke the kiss. “Liv, I was teasing. You really should take it easy.”
She sat on the table and wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him close as she untucked his shirt. “Screw that,” she said. “I’m pissed. I need to work off some anger.”
He should argue. Make her rest.
I really should.
