Face the Music (COBRA Securities Book 9) Page 22
With a disgusted huff, he shoved the door open. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but if Malone had something to hide, he’d find it.
The space was larger than he thought. A small kitchen was off to one side with an open space in front. A door led to a bedroom. Malone’s laptop rested on a desk by the window. He lifted the lid and powered it on. The screen flickered on asking for a password. Damn. He tried a few combinations but nothing worked. He didn’t know Malone well enough to guess his password and he had zero hacker skills. He slammed the lid shut with force.
He needed to see what was on there. If Malone had secrets—and Ike was sure he did—that’s where he’d find them. He dug through the drawers, looking for anything that would give him a clue to the password. A birthdate, favorite pet, something that Malone would use, but he came up empty.
Ike pulled out his phone and dialed a number. He had a cousin who was an expert hacker and the guy owed him a favor.
“Hey, cuz, it’s Ike. I need you to come to Senator Mullins’ house right now.”
“Screw you, Ike. I’m busy.”
“You sure about that? You owe me, Vince. Remember the time I covered for you when your wife called looking for you and you were off screwing some hooker? One phone call and—”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I taped the call,” he lied.
“Asshole. Fine. Give me the directions,” Vince grumbled.
Ike recited the address and told him to come to the back of the house. While he waited, he searched the entire place but he didn’t find anything incriminating, except for the fact that Malone was a neat freak. Figured. There wasn’t so much as a dirty sock on the floor.
His phone beeped a text from Vince letting him know he was here. Ike hurried out to meet him and then hustled his cousin inside.
“I need to find out what’s on the computer and make it fast. He could come back at any time.”
Vince sat down, lifted the lid and let his fingers fly over the keys. Ike kept watch to make sure Malone and Mullins didn’t return. Vince’s curses were coming faster and more frequently.
“What’s the problem?”
“I can’t break it, dude.”
“What? I thought you could hack anything.”
“Most anything,” he corrected. “There are only a few systems I haven’t been able to crack and this is one of them. But I recognize the protocols.”
“What is it?”
“Government. More specifically, FBI.”
#
Talia powered on her computer and brought up the camera feeds from Mullins’ office. She’d practiced her alibi all morning, prepared to tell him that she couldn’t sleep and went for a long run, but he never even questioned her whereabouts last night. He’d been distracted. He cancelled their yoga session and dragged Hunter off to a meeting in town. Now he was back, closed inside his lair alone.
Luke had called earlier to inform her that Layla’s sister was missing and she needed to keep a close eye out for her. As soon as Talia heard the news, she searched the entire house but there was no sign of the young girl. She couldn’t tell if Mullins knew about his daughter. He was agitated and pacing. He whipped a phone from his pocket and punched in a number. “Did you do it yet? Is she dead? Hello? Hello?” Mullins jerked the phone away in horror. He stabbed repeatedly at the off button. His wild eyes glanced around the room. When a knock sounded, he let out a yelp and jumped. “What,” he barked.
Talia’s heart beat faster. Was it Hunter? And what the hell was with her heart picking up speed? Hunter Malone was nothing to her but a co-conspirator to bring Mullins down. Her heart, that useless muscle in her chest, had no business getting involved.
The door swung open and Ike Morris sauntered inside. She turned away in disgust. The man make her skin crawl. “Where’s Malone?”
Mullins’ voice was distracted. “I don’t know. I’m not his keeper. Now get out.”
“He’s a Fed.”
Talia jerked around to the screen, her mouth dropping open. Ike knew Hunter was an FBI agent? How did he find out?
Mullins snapped his head up, pinning Morris with a narrow-eyed glare. “What did you say?”
“I said Malone’s a federal agent. He’s probably been gathering information on you all along.”
Mullins picked up a lamp and threw it against a wall. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. He turned and planted his hands on his hips. “And I let him right inside. Dammit. How did you find out?”
“That’s not important.”
Talia was torn between watching or finding Hunter to warn him. She grabbed her cell and sent him a quick text: Mullins knows u r FBI.
Mullins stormed forward to confront Morris. “How. Do. You. Know?”
Morris took a step back. “I knew something was off with him. Gut feeling. I broke into the carriage house.”
“You found proof? His badge?”
Morris shook his head. “I didn’t find anything. Place was clean. But he had a computer.”
“You found the files?”
Again, Morris shook his head. “It was password protected. I couldn’t get in. I called my hacker cousin and he came over to crack it.”
“And he found the files?” When Morris started to shake his head, Mullins gripped his shirt, jerking him forward, and growled, “Morris, so help me…”
Morris held up his hands. “He couldn’t break in. There are very few systems he can’t crack. He said the only systems he hadn’t been able to crack were government, specifically FBI.”
Mullins released him with a shove. “That’s what you’re basing this on? Your inept cousin? Maybe Malone is just more computer savvy.”
Morris smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt. “I don’t think so, boss. My cousin is good. Damn good. He’s sure it’s the FBI.”
Mullins stabbed both hands through his hair. “Sonofa... He had access to confidential information. I took him to meetings, practically gave him an address book full of associates. He could destroy me.” He turned back to Morris and pointed. “Find him. Find him right now and bring him to me.”
Talia slid into her shoes and dialed Hunter. His phone went directly to voice mail. Damn. She took off running for the carriage house.
#
After detouring by the kitchen to grab something to eat, Hunter headed to the carriage house. He’d accompanied Mullins to a meeting with the owner of a local vending machine company. The man was laundering money for Mullins. More charges to add to his impressive list of crimes.
Mullins had been twitchy and distracted all morning. He sweated profusely and couldn’t sit still. Hunter could tell his actions made the man they met with nervous. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if expecting the police to swarm in and raid his business. The meeting was short and unproductive when Mullins couldn’t seem to concentrate. Hunter planned on keeping a close eye on him all morning but Mullins had retreated to his office, citing the need to be alone.
Hunter’s pocket vibrated. He withdrew the plastic bag holding the dead assassin’s cell and checked the number. Unknown. Activating the record button on his phone, he held it to the other and pressed answer.
“Did you do it yet? Is she dead? Hello? Hello?”
The line went dead. If he wasn’t mistaken—and he wasn’t—that was Senator Eugene Mullins calling his hit man. He forwarded the audio clip for analysis and then dialed his boss to inform him of the latest events. His phone beeped a text while he was talking but he ignored it.
“I’m gathering a team as we speak,” his boss informed him. “As soon as we can locate the girl, we’ll bring him down.” Until they could determine the whereabouts of Tiffany Mullins, they didn’t want to risk arresting Mullins and never finding her. It was killing Hunter not to walk into his office and slap cuffs on him, but they needed to find the girl first.
As he approached the carriage house, he could tell someone had been there. His low-tech security measure of a piece of Scotch tape on the
top of the door had been breached. He hung up, slid his phone in a pocket and withdrew his Glock. The door opened easily, a sure sign someone had been inside. For a moment, he entertained a vision of Talia being the perp, now reclining on his bed. Naked.
A quick visual sweep dispelled that theory. No naked Talia, but his computer had been messed with. He placed the gun on the desk and powered it on. He thought about the missed text as he waited for the computer to boot and pulled out his phone. It was from the object of his fantasy. Mullins knows u r FBI.
His head jerked up as Ike Morris appeared in the doorway, his gun pointed at Hunter’s head. He reached for his on the desk.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Morris warned. Hunter’s hand froze.
Morris sauntered inside. “I knew there was something off about you, Malone. I was right. You’re a Fed.”
Hunter scoffed. “What the hell have you been smoking, Morris?”
“You can deny it all you want, but you’re a dead man. I already told Mullins and he believes me. It won’t matter if you are a Fed or not, you won’t get out of this alive.”
“Drop your weapon.”
When Morris spun around at the command, Hunter grabbed his gun. They had him surrounded.
“Talia?” Morris uttered in confusion, his head jerking back and forth between them. “What are you…sonofabitch, you’re a Fed, too?”
She chuckled softly. “No. I am a yoga teacher.” Stepping inside the room, she kept her gun trained on Morris. “And you are outnumbered. Put your weapon down, now. I will not warn you again.”
“So you’re screwing him, too?” He jerked his head in Hunter’s direction. “What, Mullins wasn’t enough for you? Hey, if you’ll spread ‘em for anyone, how about we give it a go?”
When she just stared at him, refusing to rise to his bait, he sighed and lifted his hands. “Fine. I’ll put my gun down.” He started to lower his weapon and then swung around and fired. Three gunshots rang out in succession. Hunter felt a burn across his biceps but he leaped across the desk to stand over Morris’ body.
“Nice shot,” he told Talia, indicating the hole between Morris’ lifeless eyes.
“You, too,” she said, admiring his direct hit to the heart. “And you are bleeding.”
He glanced down at his arm. “Just a nick. How did he find out?”
“He broke in here. He could not access your computer so he called his cousin, who is a hacker. The cousin could not break in and he told Morris it was the FBI system.”
“Mullins believes him?”
“I do not know if he truly believes him, but Morris managed to make him doubt you.”
He pulled out his cell and padded to the computer. He typed in his passcode as he informed his boss about the developments. He started when fingers touched his arm. Talia made a hissing sound as she exposed his injury and then began to clean it. He hung up and brought up the feed from Mullins’ office. It took a Herculean effort to concentrate on the monitor as her soft hands dressed his wound.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mullins was sweating like an elephant in a sauna. Damn Layla. That bitch had ruined everything. Everything! His reputation was in ruins, his name dragged through the mud. There was a very real possibility he’d go to prison. He hoped to hell Morris was wrong and Malone wasn’t an FBI agent. He’d come to trust the calm competence of the man. To find out he’d basically handed him the details to his conviction made him delirious with rage.
He had to know for sure. He headed outside to the carriage house that he’d graciously allowed Malone to rent. The enemy was closer than he knew. Someone was lying in a pool of blood on the floor as he approached and realized it was Morris. Sonofabitch. He was dead. He spun around and hurried back to the house. Morris was right. Malone was a Fed. This was it. His career was over. His dream of the White House was gone. He had to get out of the country. No way would he spend any time behind bars.
He found Burns and Tipton, the other two men on his crew, in the small room reserved for security personnel. “Come. Now,” he ordered. They fell over themselves to scramble up and follow. “Morris is dead. Malone’s a Fed. You,” he pointed at Tipton. “Get my Rolls and park it in front of the house. Leave the engine running. Then come back and help Burns guard the door to my study. Do not let anyone in and if Malone shows up, shoot to kill.”
He slammed the door in their faces and hurried to the safe. He extracted his gun, the stash of cash he’d squirreled away, and a fake passport, glad now he’d taken that step to have one made. It was ridiculously expensive but well worth the price. No doubt his name would be flagged by now. He’d go to a country without an extradition policy and plot on ways to bring that bitch Layla down. Because he would do so if it was the last thing he did on this earth.
He stalked to his desk and dialed the phone. He ordered his pilot to gas the jet and be ready to take off in fifteen minutes. When the man asked for a flight plan, Mullins told him he’d let him know. He didn’t want the information to leak out before he was air bound.
He rounded his desk to leave when the door burst open. “Sorry boss,” Burns apologized, red-faced and sweaty, “but this guy demanded to see you.”
“I told you—” His words were cut off when a man marched inside. It was the private investigator he’d hired to find his children. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the brats now. He was running for his life.
“Why haven’t you been answering your phone,” the man demanded.
If he wasn’t in a hurry to get out of the country, he’d have dressed the man down for questioning him. “I’ve been busy.” He brushed by. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to leave.”
“I found your daughter.”
Mullins stopped dead in his tracks and slowly spun around. “What did you say?”
The man walked out the door and dragged Tiffany back with him, her hands bound by duct tape. Her hair was a different color but there was no mistaking his daughter. For a moment, the space in his chest where his heart would have resided if he had one squeezed. She was his flesh and blood after all, even if he’d never wanted children in the first place. “Tiffany?”
She turned away from him with a look of disgust. Again, if he had time, he’d beat some respect and obedience into her. “Close the door,” he told the worthless Burns.
He grabbed Tiffany’s hands and tugged her to him, ignoring her cry of pain. He’d just been handed the key to taking Layla down. He shoved Tiffany under his desk. “Stay there.” He looked at the PI, duly impressed at his success. “How’d you find her?”
“She couldn’t stay away from the online game she used to play all the time. I flagged it and sure enough, she logged on. I pretended to be her friend and set up a meet.”
“Where’s the boy?”
“I could only grab one. I’ll take the rest of my money now,” the investigator said. The man deserved it. He was good. Mullins ignored him and dialed a number.
When it was answered, he said, “I have Tiffany. I will trade her for you. What? No, I’m not lying.” He huffed and held the phone down to his daughter. “Say hello to your sister.”
“Layla? Help—”
He jerked the phone away. “There’s your proof of life. My office. Ten minutes. Come by yourself or she’s dead.” He hung up, not caring if she could make it in that time or not. Wiping his sleeve over his forehead, he considered taking Talia with him. He didn’t get to slake his lust last night and she would be a welcome distraction. Before he could call her room, the PI interrupted him.
“The money, now, Mullins or I take the girl back.”
“I’ll send you a check. Get out.”
The PI pulled a gun but Mullins was faster. He fired, hitting the man in the chest. He staggered back, clutched his hand over the wound and crumpled to the floor. At one time, he’d have been pissed that the man was bleeding all over his Persian rug imported from Iran but he had more pressing things to consider. Tiffany screamed and he kicked her to shut her up.
“Get back out there and guard the door. When my stepdaughter arrives, let her pass. If anyone is with her, kill them.”
A few minutes later, the door opened and Layla stood there, looking defiant and determined. That was fast.
“Well, hello daughter.”
#
“Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.” Layla glared at the man she hated with every fiber of her being, her fists clenched in fury. This was it. He was going down. The FBI had enough to send him to prison for a long, long time. She’d hoped to find proof that he’d murdered her mother but she’d have to be satisfied that he’d spend the rest of his pathetic life behind bars.
She casually walked inside, pretending a calm she didn’t feel. She wanted to race forward and claw his demon eyes out. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a body on the ground. She jerked her gaze to see a man in a pool of blood, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She swallowed roughly and averted her gaze. “Where’s Tiffany.”
“Layla!”
“Shut the hell up,” Mullins screamed at the desk.
Hearing Tiffany bolstered her resolve. Her sister was alive. That’s all that mattered.
“Where are your guard dogs?” Mullins growled, sounding like a dog himself.
She held up her arms. “You said come alone.”
“I didn’t figure you’d listen. You never have before.” He reached down and grabbed Tiffany, tugging her up to stand beside him.
Layla lurched forward at her pained cries. He would die for hurting her. Mullins jerked his arm up and pointed a gun at her. “Stop right there.”
“You’re hurting her.” She hated the desperation in her voice.
“So?” He tugged harder and Tiffany cried out again.