Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Page 25

  They were operating under the assumption that Sergei was still on site, and Jake desperately hoped that was true. Once the Russian got what he came for, he would have no reason to leave witnesses. And if he was already on the run, they might never find him in the heavily forested canyons of Big Sur.

  Without a word, the team formed up single file, weapons in hand, and headed south at a steady lope.

  ****

  Laurel eyed Sergei warily as he removed the Memory Stick from its plastic pouch and turned it over in his palm. “You’ve got it. Now go.”

  When he raised his head, speculation flashed in his flat, black gaze. “How do I know this is genuine?”

  She had no ready answer. She’d told him her laptop couldn’t read it, so she had no credible way to prove the drive’s authenticity. Her only option was to try to bluff her way out. “Since I don’t know what’s on it and you’ve never seen it before, I guess you don’t. What are you going to do?”

  He remained silent, flipping the drive in one hand like Humphrey Bogart with his ball bearings in the old movie The Caine Mutiny. After about a minute, Laurel’s nerves were screaming to slap the blasted thing out of his hand.

  Finally, he closed his fist around it. “I think…I must believe you.”

  She released the breath she’d been holding, and her body sagged in relief.

  “But since I cannot be certain, I think I must kill you and your mother and her friend and burn down both houses. That way, if you are still hiding Richard’s real drive from me, it will be destroyed.” His mouth widened in a chilling distortion of a smile.

  Her throat closed as panic threatened to suffocate her. Sergei had murdered Richard—a reasonably fit man—in cold blood. What chance did she have against him?

  Think, Laurel. Think.

  He waved his gun in the direction of the door. “Come…now. We will go back to your mother’s house where I can deal with all three of you at once. It will be more efficient.” He cast a glance around her apartment. “It will give me great pleasure to burn this place to the ground, knowing that devil cat is inside.”

  Laurel’s hands balled into fists, and she clenched her teeth with enough force to snap a tree branch. He had issued one threat too many. The kernel of anger that had been smoldering beneath her fear burst into flame. She would die before she’d let this psychopath harm anyone else. She didn’t know how, but she would stop him, one way or another.

  Sergei grabbed her arm and thrust her toward the door. “Move.”

  She resisted, forcing him to drag her.

  His patience ran out before they reached the door, and he slammed his pistol into the side of her head, knocking her to the floor. “Stand up and walk, or I will shoot you now and leave you here alone. If you come willingly, at least you can die in your mother’s arms.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and her head swam, but his words penetrated the pain. She struggled to her feet, swaying as she tried to stand. The image of her mother’s face filled her mind as she staggered toward the door. Her hand had just closed around the knob when a voice called from outside.

  It was loud, but oddly muffled. Human, yet mechanical. “Sergei Ivanov. This is the Monterey County Sheriff’s Department. Put down your weapon and come out now.”

  A bullhorn. The cavalry had arrived. That meant Jake was out there somewhere. She collapsed against the door.

  With a guttural Russian exclamation, Sergei yanked her upright. “Don’t think they can save you. I have the drive, and you are my ticket out of here. Let’s go.”

  He opened the door and shoved her out, causing her to stumble. Before she could regain her balance, he dragged her against his chest with one arm. With his pistol pressed against the base of her skull, he forced her body between himself and the deputy with a shotgun who stood at the base of the stairs. Jake stood behind him, sidearm drawn. A second deputy was stationed about twenty yards away with a rifle trained on her captor, and the deafening sound of a helicopter filled the air. Laurel fleetingly wondered where Melody was, but she had bigger things to worry about.

  Sergei’s arm beneath her breasts was as unyielding as a steel band, squeezing the air from her lungs. She teetered between relief and stark terror. This kind of armed stand-off only ended well if one party surrendered, and the Russian didn’t seem like the surrendering type.

  “Get back,” he shouted beside her ear. “Drop your weapons or I will kill her.”

  He shoved the barrel of the gun hard against her head for emphasis, eliciting a whimper of pain she couldn’t suppress, no matter how hard she tried.

  Jake raised his pistol. “Let her go!”

  The deputy at the foot of the stairs took a step forward and shouted, “Ivanov, the only way out of this is to lay down your weapon and surrender.”

  Sergei tightened his arm around Laurel’s rib cage. “I don’t think so. I will leave the way you came. I assume that—” He shot a quick glance at the helicopter hovering overhead. “—belongs to you. Tell the pilot to land in the parking lot. I will give him directions when Ms. McDowell and I are safely aboard. If you interfere, I will kill her.” He pushed Laurel down a step, daring the officers to stop him. “Call the pilot. Now.”

  Jake approached the deputy and murmured something in his ear. The deputy nodded, and Jake stepped back. Lowering his shotgun, the deputy spoke into the radio attached to the shoulder of his jacket. After a brief exchange, he retreated a few steps from the base of the stairs. Above them, the copter rose then swooped off in the direction of the restaurant parking lot.

  The deputy raised his shotgun again and pointed it directly at the Russian. “Bring her down slowly.”

  Sergei hesitated. “Drop your weapons first.”

  The officer shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

  “I’ll kill her.” He shook her, and her head snapped sideways.

  “You do, and we’ll blast you back to Moscow in a thousand pieces.”

  The harsh rasp of Sergei’s breathing in her ear, coupled with the coiled tension in his body sent Laurel’s pulse racing even faster. Pushed to the edge, the man was a ticking bomb with an invisible fuse. She had no idea when he might explode, or how.

  He shoved her down one step, then another, using her body as a shield, and with each step, panic nudged her closer to the edge of hysteria. She was not getting into that helicopter with him, no matter what. In her heart she knew she’d never escape alive. She glanced at the officer with the rifle and wondered if he had the skill to take Sergei out with a head shot. That’s what would happen if this were a movie.

  But it wasn’t a movie. This was real life, and she couldn’t afford to go along with this murderer until someone found a way to save her. She had to find her own way. She slid her hand into her pocket, and her fingers closed around the handle of the paring knife. It wasn’t big, but it was her best chance. A diversion would help, too.

  About four steps from the bottom, she suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs and pretended to stumble. The noise and the abrupt movement knocked her captor off balance long enough for Laurel to pull out the knife. Before he realized what was happening, she grabbed his right hand with her left, yanked it down so the gun no longer pointed at her head, and thrust her knife into the back of his hand with all the strength she could muster.

  Sergei screamed and released her, and she bolted down the remaining steps, past the deputy with the shotgun, and straight toward Jake.

  Everything that happened next seemed like a blur. Before she could register it, one of the deputies had the Russian on the ground with a knee in the middle of his back while he slapped on a pair of handcuffs. Sergei was thrashing and yelling about his injured hand, but the officers ignored his complaints. They grabbed him by both arms and hauled him to his feet. Laurel refused to look at him as they marched him down the driveway past her. She would be happy if she never saw his face again.

  Jake turned her toward him. “Are you okay? You scared the heck out of me with that stunt on
the stairs. It was very brave, but you didn’t need to put yourself at risk like that. We had a plan to overpower Ivanov on the way to the chopper.”

  Laurel’s knees wobbled, and she shoved a tangle of loose hair out of her face. “I couldn’t have known that, could I? All I knew was I wasn’t getting into that helicopter.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I can’t believe you thought I would let that happen.”

  At that moment, she didn’t care what he believed. Tears welled in her eyes, and her whole body began to shake. She had to get back to her mother. She pulled away from him. “I have to go. Mom and—”

  “Melody is with your mother and Mr. Fuentes. We didn’t know where Ivanov was, so we secured the main house first.”

  Sweet relief flowed through her, only to be replaced by panic seconds later. “Rafael’s been shot. He needs a doctor!” She bolted toward the house.

  Jake quickly caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “Slow down. He was stable when we left him, and Melody has already called for a Medevac helicopter to fly him to the trauma center.”

  She pulled free from his grasp. “I need to see my mother.”

  “Of course, but give yourself a minute to calm down and catch your breath. You’ve been through a terrifying ordeal, but everyone’s going to be okay. You don’t want to scare Rosemary any worse than she already is.”

  He was right. Laurel could only imagine how her mother must have felt when her daughter was dragged off by a killer, leaving her to watch a close friend bleed to death in her own living room. As frightened as she’d been with Sergei, being left behind, waiting and wondering, would have been a hundred times worse.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and released it slowly. “Okay. I’m better.”

  “Before we go inside, I have to tell you how impressed I am with the way you’ve handled this whole mess, from Vargis’s murder, to the attack on Martin Finebourne, to nearly being kidnapped by a Russian gangster.”

  As the effects of excess adrenaline continued to fade, clarity slowly returned. “That reminds me—did someone get the flash drive from Sergei? He had it in his pocket.”

  Jake fished in his pocket and pulled out the plastic bag containing the innocuous-looking bit of black plastic. “It’s right here. The deputies found it after they cuffed him.”

  “Good. I’d hate to think Rafael was shot and I stabbed a man for nothing.”

  He tucked the bag back where it came from. “You don’t have to worry about that. I expect the information on this drive will help us take down our target’s entire organization. Now let’s go see your mom. The Medevac will be here soon, and she’ll probably want to go to the hospital with Mr. Fuentes.”

  Her mother and Rafael were still on the living room sofa where she’d left them, and Melody was tending the wound in Rafael’s side.

  “Laurel!” Rosemary jumped up and enveloped Laurel in a huge bear hug. When she pulled back, tears streamed down her cheeks. “You have no idea how frightened I was.”

  Laurel began to cry, too. “I’m so sorry, Mom. He never would have come here if it weren’t for me.”

  Rosemary stiffened, and her brows knit in a fierce frown. “Don’t be silly. None of this is your fault. That man shot Rafael. That man put a gun to my baby’s head. Everything that has happened is his fault, and his alone.”

  “But Richard—”

  “Wasn’t the man you thought he was. You came home to get away from him. You did the right thing.”

  Laurel smiled through her tears. Through thick and thin, her mother had always been her staunchest advocate.

  A series of loud knocks sounded at the door, and Jake opened it to admit a pair of paramedics with a gurney. They rolled it straight to their patient, took his vitals, and inspected his wound.

  One of them slid his arm behind Rafael’s back. “If we help you, can you stand, sir?”

  “I…I think so.” His voice was thin and reedy.

  Laurel marveled as the paramedics got him up and onto the gurney in a matter of seconds with the least amount of additional pain possible.

  While one tucked a blanket around Rafael, the other turned to Laurel and her mother. “We’re flying him to Natividad in Salinas. Are you family members?”

  Rosemary shook her head. “No, but I’m a very close friend. I’d like to go with him, if possible. I can call his sons and ask them to meet us at the hospital.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go.”

  She grabbed a coat from the closet near the door and started to follow them, then hesitated. “Laurel, you should come, too. I hate to leave you alone.”

  Laurel hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go back to my place and go to bed.”

  “You’re sure?” Rosemary looked dubious.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, but be careful, and lock your door.”

  “Go, Mom. And don’t worry about me.”

  As Rosemary hurried down the path to catch up to the paramedics, Melody’s radio squawked. She listened, gave a brief reply, and turned to Jake. “We need to go. They’re holding the chopper for us.” He nodded, and she headed for the parking lot.

  Jake turned to Laurel, indecision in his eyes. “I really need to pick up my truck and get the flash drive back to the office, but—”

  She touched his arm. “Like I told my mother, I’ll be fine. I need to be alone to decompress.”

  “I don’t know. I hate to—”

  “Go.” She leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss across his lips.

  “I’ll be back as soon as Caltrans gets the highway cleared. One of the detectives from the Sheriff’s Department will want to take statements from everyone tomorrow. I’ll drive you.”

  “Will you just go?” She smiled and made a shooing motion. “You’ll miss your ride.”

  As she watched him walk down the driveway, a massive wave of weariness washed over her, dragging her down and pulling her under. She was almost afraid to let herself believe the ordeal that had begun six weeks earlier when she’d fled Seattle was truly over. Right now, she needed peace and quiet, with no one needing anything from her except one big orange cat with ego issues.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  As soon as she returned to her apartment and released Rufus from his prison in the bathroom, Laurel climbed into bed, but despite her physical and emotional exhaustion, she was unable to fall asleep. Jake had said he’d be back once the highway was cleared, so she kept expecting to be disturbed by a knock at the door. But everything remained silent. Too silent.

  Finally, she got up, ate a handful of dry cereal, turned on some New Age music, and tried to relax with yoga. However, Rufus decided to help by standing on her back—all twenty-three pounds of him. Baby goats probably weighed less. She gave up after a few minutes and decided to try chamomile tea. Cup in hand, she wandered over to the big windows and stared out at the still-angry ocean. Rufus strolled over and twined himself around her ankles with a glass-rattling purr.

  She bent down and rubbed his head. “It’s over, bud. We won.”

  The cat tipped his head up and gave her a quizzical look.

  “We got rid of the bad man, you and me.”

  She could swear he smiled. He looked pleased with himself, at any rate. She laughed. “Okay, it was mostly you. Congratulations.”

  Rufus blinked big green eyes in slow motion, then sauntered over to the sofa and hopped up into his favorite spot.

  Laurel turned back to the broad expanse of stormy gray sea and sipped her tea. Slowly, like summer fog creeping ashore, a sense of calm settled over her. She’d told Rufus the truth. It was over. She had won.

  She was finally able to accept that she was not to blame for Richard’s death. Sergei had killed him because he’d cheated a ruthless crime boss, not because he’d hidden the evidence in her suitcase. She couldn’t honestly describe what they’d had as love, but they had cared for each other, at least at the beginning. Richard had been
controlling and sometimes cruel, but he hadn’t deserved the death he got. That was Sergei’s fault, Sergei and his overlord. The Russians had also used Victor and Martin’s weaknesses to suck them into their criminal web and intimidation and violence to keep them there. Now, the FBI had Sergei in custody and hopefully enough evidence to lock him up and put Vladimir Roskov out of business.

  It was over—at least her part of it.

  She was free to get on with her life without a cloud of fear hanging over her. For the first time, she was free to experiment with her art and see where it took her.

  But what if I’m not good enough?

  Also for the first time, she realized it didn’t matter. Other people would think whatever they chose to think of her work. She would be as good as she could be.

  She finished her tea, climbed into bed, and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  When she awoke eighteen hours later, the sun was poking through the clouds, the power was back on, and she was starving. She rolled out of bed, fed Rufus, fixed and ate a three-egg omelet, and then hit the shower. Clean, fed, and rested, she felt like a new woman. After drying her hair, she checked her phone and found she had service again. She also had a message from Jake saying he would be over at ten-thirty to pick her up for the drive to the Sheriff’s Department headquarters.

  Before she could check the time, a knock sounded at the door, giving her a start. Her brain told her it must be Jake, but her nerves weren’t so sure. Even though Sergei was in custody, it might be a while before she was able to put the events of the past month fully behind her.

  She opened the door with a smile. “I just got your text. I need to change before we leave.”

  He was dressed in his usual non-work attire. “You look fine.”

  She gave him a get-real stare. “Shorts and a T-shirt might be okay for you, but I insist on wearing real pants to an interview with a detective.”

  Jake laughed. “Hey, it’s Sunday, and it’s above freezing. Besides, you have no idea what they’re used to. At least you’re not in a bright orange jumpsuit with MCDOC printed on the back.”