Dirty Thief - Page 78

I wait for Freddie’s report. “I’m getting something… I started checking the historical images on the traffic cameras around the area where we lost him.”

I sit forward in my seat gripping the wheel. “What have you found?”

“Nothing much, but there hasn’t been much traffic tonight. The closest I got is a vehicle turning off the road at the Parc Veille a half hour ago.”

The muscle in my jaw clenches, and I think about this. “The Parc Veille?”

“It’s the most I’ve been able to find.”

Turning the Mini, I figure I don’t have anything else to do while we wait. The small park isn’t far from where I stopped, and it’s closed after dark. As I get closer, I see the entrance isn’t gated. The guard shed is empty, and I’m able to drive through without any impediments. The realization unfolds slowly in my stomach.

“Freddie, is there wireless service in Parc Veille?”

“No,” he answers quickly. “And with the tree coverage, I can’t get a good image of the peninsula.”

My foot presses harder on the accelerator. “Cal, I need you here.”

“On my way, brother.”

I follow the damp asphalt pavement leading through the tall trees. The rain has ended, but the cloud cover keeps it dark. Straining my eyes into the woods, I can’t see more than a few feet before it’s total blackness. He could be anywhere in there.

As soon as my brother arrives, we can retrace my steps, but I want to start at the large pavilion at the point overlooking the ocean. It takes several minutes more before I enter a clearing in the trees. The road curves, and my headlights flash. A tan Fiat is parked off the side of the road.

Adrenaline spikes in my veins. “I’ve got him!” I shout into the headpiece, hitting the brakes and throwing the car into park.

Cal answers. “I’m at the park. Where are you?”

“All the way in the back. The pavilion overlooking the point.”

“Shit!” my brother hisses. “It’s the perfect place to commit a crime. Watch yourself. Don’t approach him unarmed. I’m coming as fast as I can.”

I’m not even listening at this point. I have my gun out and the safety off, and I’m picking my way carefully toward the car. When I get to it, I crouch low, making my way along the passenger’s side, which is facing the woods.

Once I’m at the side, I pop up and look through it. Empty.

“Fuck,” I growl. “Where the fuck is he?”

I strain my eyes into the trees, but it’s dark and wet. The only obvious choice is the pavilion, and with my gun clasped in both hands, I walk quickly toward the round structure.

I’m halfway there when a sound stops my heart. A woman’s scream rips through the night, but my vision tunnels, and I’m running at top speed before my brain finishes processing. The voice was Ava’s.

“Ava!” I shout, charging up the steps.

She screams again, and I see the dark heap of two people struggling on the concrete floor. My wife’s hands are on his face, his neck, slapping, and Vega has his hands around her throat. He’s strangling her.

Without thinking, I race toward him, shoving my gun in the back of my pants. I won’t waste time on inaccuracies. My military training kicks in, and I grip this fucker by the top of the head and the chin. It only takes one swift twist to send the satisfying crunch of breaking bones echoing through my arms up to my brain. His entire body goes slack, and I throw him to the side as I drop to my knees.

It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why she’s here, but I hold her close against my chest. She’s coughing and shaking and crying. Her entire body is cold and wet, but her arms are around me, and she keeps repeating my name.

“It’s okay, Ava. Don’t cry.” I move my legs so I can sit on the pavement.

Gathering her onto my lap, I kiss her head. I hold her close and surround her with my arms as I wait for our backup to arrive.

* * *

Back at the war room, Freddie monitors the police scanner as we try and figure out how to handle everything that has happened. Dr. Klein is with Ava, giving her a thorough exam and treating her injuries, which are thankfully minor, the most severe being a bruised hip where that bastard threw her across the floor. So many questions race through my mind, but they will all have to wait until I’m alone with my wife.

André’s gun is in the center of the table, three bullets missing, and it’s the problem we’re trying to work around.

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