Until Now (Plan B Book 1) Page 8

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  His grip on her upper arm was tight and angry as he dragged her up the stairs.

  “You’re hurting me,” Shanice said.

  In response, Vicente muttered a stream of Spanish words, which she was pretty sure were curse words. At the apartment door, he pushed her inside and she stumbled forward.

  He locked the door and stalked toward her. “What the hell were you thinking? Why did you run? You could have seriously hurt yourself climbing out that window. ”

  “I was scared! I wanted to get away from you. I don’t know who you are!” She’d seen what he’d done to those men and didn’t want him to do the same to her.

  “I’m the guy who saved your ass less than two hours ago.”

  “Maybe you did that so you could kill me later if I give you the data you say you need.”

  “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have already done it. If I wanted to get the information out of you, which I know you’re lying about, there are ways to do that, believe me.”

  The veiled threat did nothing to put her mind at ease.

  “You think running away from me is a good idea? How long will you keep running, eh? They killed your neighbor across the street and took over his house to get to you. They’re going to keep coming for you, and when they can’t get to you, they’ll move on to your family members. They might go after your mother. Is that what you want?”

  “No! Don’t say that.”

  “They’ve killed once before. There’s nothing to stop them from killing again because they haven’t gotten what they wanted.”

  “I want to go back to normal. I want to feel safe again.”

  “You can’t go back to normal. Normal is done for you,” Vicente said in a grim tone. “Enough of this bullshit. Your boyfriend stole some information—information that if it gets out could jeopardize our national security.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Your ex-boyfriend, then.”

  “My ex-boyfriend had nothing to do with this.” What he was saying didn’t make any sense.

  “He had everything to do with this! He told his wife that he was working on a big exposé, something huge. He claimed to have seen a pattern in the data he stole.”

  She blinked, utterly confused. “Wait a minute, are you talking about Dennis?”

  “Yes, Dennis. Your married ex.” He said the words with biting distaste.

  “You think I was having an affair with Dennis? No! We weren’t lovers. We were friends.”

  “Friends who have sleepovers?” he asked snidely.

  “What are you talking about…? Oh…no, he stayed over at my place one time, and that was because he’d had too much to drink. The same night he told me about the…data.”

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “So you admit you know about it.”

  “Yes,” Shanice replied in a small voice. Suddenly very tired, she placed the backpack on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. “Instead of driving home, I told him to sleep on my couch.”

  “He could have called a Lyft or a cab,” Cruz said pointedly.

  “Why spend money when I had an available couch and he was my friend?”

  Cruz examined her, searching for the lies in her statement. She didn’t flinch or avert her eyes. This time she was telling the truth, and she wanted to make that clear. There was no romantic relationship between her and Dennis.

  Cruz dragged the rolling chair in front of her and sat down. “Tell me everything.”

  “Before I do, will you tell me something?”

  “What?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Vicente,” he said in a clipped voice.

  “No, your real name. Not the one you made up to get close to me and make a fool out of me.”

  “I didn’t make a fool out of you.”

  “So you were genuinely planning to pursue a relationship with me?”

  She didn’t know why she kept pushing him—why she kept wanting him to say that she was wrong and that he really did care for her. Was it simply because she cared about him? She couldn’t get rid of the sour taste of betrayal, no matter how much she tried.

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re a difficult woman. Before I tell you my name, I need to know you won’t try to run again. You need to decide now. Are you going to take your chances on your own, or take your chances and stay with me? What’s it going to be?”

  She hesitated, but in retrospect didn’t have much of a choice. “I’ll stay with you,” she answered in a low voice.

  Her actions had been impulsive, and the thought of endangering her mother had never crossed her mind. He studied her for long moments, and she waited with tight insides.

  Finally, he responded. “Cruz. My name is Cruz, and that’s all I can tell you for now. You have to trust me, because I’m your only hope.”

  She didn’t know if what he’d told her was true, but she had no choice but to believe him at this point. Even if he didn’t have genuine romantic feelings toward her, he did have a point, that he’d saved her life tonight.

  “Okay. Cruz.” Trying out his name, she decided she liked it. “I need to explain my relationship with Dennis, because you have it all wrong. We were not lovers. We were always only friends. We went to high school together and lost touch but ran into each other at a bookstore a few years ago and developed a friendship. At the time, he was going through a rough patch with his wife and things weren’t getting any better. I happened to be going through a rough patch with my boyfriend at the time—that’s who I thought you were talking about. We comforted each other, that’s it. He listened to me complain, and I listened to him complain. We gave each other advice. A true, genuine, trusting friendship developed from that.”

  She stopped for a moment, watching him to make sure he didn’t doubt her words. She couldn’t tell whether or not he believed her because his face didn’t give anything away.

  “Continue. How did he end up with the data?”

  “It was all part of an investigation he was working on. Whenever he was working on something big, he tended to be very secretive about it, so he wouldn’t give me much information, except to say that it was a big deal. The night he stayed at my apartment, he told me more. He had a list of names, but he never said anything about national security. What he did tell me was that Logan Investors was under investigation for questionable practices in real estate development.”

  Cruz leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Who the hell is Logan Investors?”

  “They’re based out of Houston, but they have developments all over the country—condominiums, apartment complexes, and commercial space. The Logans are stinking rich. Billionaires. The owner and head of the company is Randall Logan and he has all kinds of political connections. He’s like a god in Houston. Dennis was working on something huge regarding him. The only problem is, I think they must have found out and picked him up.”

  “Who picked him up?” Cruz asked. His eyebrows had formed a deep vee as he listened.

  “The police. They grabbed him at home, at the apartment he was renting. They accused him of using cocaine. And yes, he had a drug problem in the past, but he’d been clean for a long time and wouldn’t have started using again.”

  “You don’t know that. People slip up and go back to rehab.”

  “We were close—best friends. I knew him, and I would have known if he was using again. He was fine. Better than fine. He was even optimistic that things would work out between him and his wife, and they were talking about getting back together.”

  “She mentioned that,” Cruz said slowly.

  “See? He wouldn’t screw that up, because he looked forward to having his family back. Plus he was busy with this investigation and mentioned more than once that this could be his shot at a Pulitzer. This exposé was his big break, a way to prove that he was worthy of being with the niece of Senator Sandoval. He called me from jail and told me not to come down there because he didn�
�t want me to get involved. He said the cops planted the drugs in his apartment, claiming they’d received a tip.”

  “So you’re saying that Randall Logan had the police in his back pocket and got them to arrest Dennis?”

  Shanice nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Dennis was scared, and before he went to jail he told me about his concerns. He told me not to trust anyone with the information he’d given me.”

  “So he gave you the names?”

  “Yes, he did. But before I left Texas, someone broke into my apartment. Dennis was old school and used notebooks all the time. He had a separate one with that list of names and asked me to hide it for him, as insurance in case something happened to him. But when they broke into my apartment, they found the notebook in the hiding place and took it.”

  “If they took the notebook, then why were they after you tonight?”

  “Maybe because I called the FBI earlier today, after you and I talked.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them that I had the list. But I got scared at the last minute and hung up when one of the agents came on the phone.”

  Cruz straightened in the chair. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. Why would you tell them you had the list when you just told me the notebook was stolen from your apartment?”

  Shanice fisted her hands in her lap and stared at her clenched fingers. This was it. The moment of truth. “Because I made a copy.” She looked up at him.

  “Where is it?”

  She tapped her right temple. “Here.”

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  Cruz looked understandably confused. “What do you mean…?”

  “The information is all in my head. The names and the dollar amounts next to them.”

  “What were the dollar amounts for?”

  Shanice shrugged. “Bribes, maybe? Dennis wrote down each name and a dollar amount next to it. He didn’t tell me what the numbers meant, but I assumed they were bribes.”

  “And you memorized all of that? How?”

  “Like I told you, my father was a cognitive psychologist,” Shanice replied with another shrug. “He studied the capabilities of the human brain and our capacity to retain information. He believed we could increase that capacity through brain exercises. One of the studies he conducted was how to reduce the risk of dementia. He taught me the same memorization techniques he used with his patients, and the more I did them, the better I became. I trained my brain, the way a runner trains for a marathon or an athlete for a triathlon.”

  “That’s incredible. You never forget anything?”

  “No, nothing quite so amazing,” Shanice said with a short laugh. “But if I study to remember, I can remember. Lists are really easy to memorize, and the information in the notebook was one long list.”

  “We have to get that information to the authorities.”

  “To who? Dennis told me not to trust anyone, and I’ve been sitting on this information for two months, unsure what to do. Then I call the FBI field office, and the same day, someone is in my house holding a gun to my head.”

  “Which means they either bugged your phone or they have a contact at the field office.”

  “I’ve never left my phone unattended. I always have it with me. Which means…”

  “There are other ways to intercept your phone calls, but I’ve kept a close watch on you since I arrived in Miami, and I would have noticed if you were being tailed. That could only mean one thing—Logan has someone at the FBI office, which means we can’t trust them, either.”

  He’d said what she’d been worried about, and Shanice became overwhelmed by fear. “Dennis warned me. How could I have been so stupid?” she said shakily.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s natural to expect law enforcement to protect us, but they don’t always.”

  “No kidding.”

  “There’s one more question I have to ask you. You have almost fifty thousand dollars in that backpack. I know, because I entered your house today when you were at work and searched every room for the notebook.”

  “You’re really making me feel at ease about your behavior.”

  “Believe me, I’m one of the good guys. Where’d you get the money, Shanice?”

  “My father, from his insurance policy when he died three years ago. That’s what’s left of my half of one hundred thousand dollars. My mother got the other half. Before I left Texas, I withdrew all of my money, sold my car, and gave away or sold most of my personal items. I wanted to pay cash for everything so I couldn’t get tracked.”

  A hint of admiration entered his eyes. “Good girl.”

  Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. “There’s something else I should tell you that I completely forgot about. Dennis had a storage unit where I think he might have kept some personal items. I don’t know what exactly, but I’d forgotten about it because he only mentioned the unit in passing once. I don’t know where it is, but I figure it’s in or near Houston.”

  “Excellent. Anything else you can think of?”

  Shanice fell silent, searching the crevices of her mind for other clues or tidbits of information she could share with Cruz. “No, nothing.”

  “Okay,” he said with a nod. “You did good. Thank you for sharing that information with me.”

  “What happens now?”

  “You go take a shower. A real one, this time.” He arched an eyebrow and her cheeks reddened. “I’ll make a call. There’s someone who can help, who’s not connected to the FBI.”

  “Who?”

  “My direct supervisor at the agency I work for. Let me handle this part.”

  “But what if he’s involved?”

  “He’s not, I promise you. But I won’t divulge more information than I have to.”

  He must have seen the fear in her eyes, because he edged the chair closer and cupped her left cheek with a warm palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Do you believe me?”

  Looking into his eyes at close range, she didn’t doubt for one second that he would do whatever he needed to do to protect her. She was confident Cruz would act as a barrier between her and the people trying to do her physical harm. Cruz was vastly different from Vicente. Vicente was nice and sweet. This man—this man was dangerous. With him on her side, the enemy didn’t stand a chance.

  “I believe you,” she whispered.

  “Good.” His thumb brushed her cheek, and she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes in relief. She was no longer alone and didn’t have to carry the burden of what Dennis had shared with her by herself.

  When she opened her eyes again, Cruz was looking at her in a different way. His eyes had lowered to her lips, and her breath hitched. Their eyes met, and the tension in the room kicked up to a scorching level.

  As she continued to look at him, his expression became shuttered and he jerked back as if she’d burned him, squashing the moment of tension. Yet she continued to feel the burden of the heat between them even after he stood abruptly and shoved the chair under the desk.

  He walked over to the closet and pulled out a white T-shirt that was folded on top of a shelf. He handed the garment to her without making eye contact. “You can sleep in this. Go take your shower, and I’ll make my call.”

  Shanice took the soft cotton shirt and picked up her backpack. She carried everything into the bathroom and didn’t lock the door this time, instead leaning back against it.

  The events of the night had been a temporary distraction, but nothing had changed—she still wanted him, more now that this very capable, in-control man had emerged.

  Who was going to protect her against him—and what he would assuredly do to her heart?

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  He’d completed this type of assignment many times before. Get close, find out what she knows, and complete the mission. Not so easy this time around. Shanice was in his blood, under his skin.

  Aggravated, Cruz tended to his cuts with the first-aid ki
t he had stashed under the kitchen sink. He dabbed alcohol on the sliced skin on his neck and shoulder and placed a Band-Aid on the busted knuckle of his right hand.

  Then he set about to do what he promised. Reaching under the desk, he yanked on the encrypted phone he had taped to the bottom. Making a call to another encrypted phone meant no one could listen in or intercept the conversation.

  He powered on the device and started dialing. He had to get a message to Miles and let him know what was going on. The mission he’d been sent to perform was not exactly what they thought it was. He was almost done dialing the number when he paused, thumb hovering over the eighth digit.

  Something wasn’t right. What did the list of names mean?

  He doubted they had anything to do with national security. Maybe instead of turning Shanice over to Miles or anyone else, he could do a little investigating of his own. He asked her to trust him, so now he had to display the same level of trust. He needed to make a decision—complete the mission by handing her over with everything she knew, or dig a little deeper to get to the bottom of this mystery?

  He already knew what his decision would be. He needed to dig a little deeper.

  In a short time, he’d come to care for Shanice, and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

  He cleared the numbers and hoped he wasn’t letting his feelings cloud his judgment. Instead, he dialed the number of a friend he could trust. Listening to the phone ring, he cast a glance at the dark alley below. Nothing untoward, no suspicious activity. He was fairly certain they hadn’t been followed, but one could never be too careful.

  “Yo, Cruz, what’s up, man?”

  Cruz grinned at the sound of his friend’s voice. Some agents, like him and Raheem, had developed relationships over the years that turned into true friendships and they kept in touch. For many of them, the Plan B agents were the only family they had. The benefit was, whenever they needed help with an operation off the books, they had someone to call.

  “¿Que bola, acere? How have you been? What are you up to?” he asked.

  “Shit.”