Crossing Lines by Adrienne Giordano

5

Liz— Faith — double-timed her steps to keep pace with Shane who might possibly be breaking speed-walking records while they traversed an open field in the pitch black.

After the almost-abduction, he’d hustled her to his car, a white sedan they’d driven in for nearly thirty minutes until he’d parked across from an iron fence surrounding a vast field. He’d given her a boost over the fence to speed the process. She’d climbed many a fence in her day and could have easily done it on her own.

But this was different. Help. Support. Camaraderie.

And that, she hadn’t had a whole lot of recently.

If ever.

Aside from her grandmother, that saintly woman who’d taken in a wild-child ten-year-old whose mother found it fitting to join a religious cult. This after not being totally sure who exactly Liz’s father might have been.

For all her faults, Mom had had the good sense to leave Liz — Faith — behind. And wasn’t that name ironic considering the whole religious cult thing?

“Um,” Faith said. “Where are we going?”

He neither slowed nor looked at her.

“It’s safe,” Shane said.

Total non-answer, but at this point, did it even matter? Clearly, he had a plan. All well and good, but hey, this was her life too.

The last time she didn’t know her destination she’d wound up in a basement with a couple of guys who tried to gang rape her so, yeah, she wanted to know where the hell he was leading her.

In the blackness, she halted. “I get it,” she said. “I’ve compromised you. I’m sorry for that, but this isn’t working for me. I need to know where I’m going.”

Shane stopped too. For a few seconds he tipped his head back and stared up at a starlit sky.

“You read my file,” she said. “You know what happened to me in Venezuela.”

She couldn’t see his features clearly enough in the dark, but he looked at her for a few long seconds. “Over this hill. See the lights? It’s a mausoleum. When I first came to Chicago, I worked here while figuring out how to open the bar. I found an abandoned coal mine underneath the mausoleum. When we want privacy, we come here.”

They were in a cemetery? That was once a coal mine? Well, that she hadn’t expected.

“Who’s we?”

“Me, Dusty and Trevor.”

Okay. That was…okay. She supposed. She hadn’t met either man, but Dusty had been instrumental in getting her to Shane.

“How the hell did you find a coal mine?”

He laughed. “I’m nosy. Recon Marines tend to be that way.”

She cocked her head, refusing to let him off the hook that easy.

He waved a barely visible hand. “My job here was grounds maintenance. One day I found a grate. The wall around it was deteriorating. I pulled it out and found a shaft.” He shrugged. “I was curious and crawled around in there. Now, if we can stop talking, you’ll see where we’re going.”

Five minutes later, after coming over the hill and meandering through some gravestones, they reached a giant building with carved marble columns along the facade.

Shane led her around back and used a key to open the door, making sure it locked behind them. She followed him into a narrow hallway stuffed with lawn care supplies. Whether it was the gardening tools or the supplies, a pungent, earthy smell — fertilizer — permeated the confined air. She held her breath for a few seconds, letting her senses adjust while walking.

“Aren’t you worried about security cameras?”

“Cameras are only on the entrances and the front of the buildings. I avoid those areas.”

They stopped at an air vent covered by a grate he promptly removed.

“Tail me,” Shane told her. “Once we’re in there, it would help if you could reach back and pull the grate back into place. No one has ever come along, but the way things are going, we’re not risking it.”

He squeezed his enormous body through the opening — no easy feat, that — and fired up his phone’s flashlight, illuminating the enclosed space. Faith stayed close, following him through yet another opening into a dusty tunnel.

“Unbelievable,” she breathed, not bothering to hide her wonder that he’d uncovered this hidey-hole.

As a field agent, these types of discoveries always mesmerized her. In Venezuela, illegal gold mines operated in jungles lined with underground tunnels. All equipped with makeshift pulleys to move product.

On her escape, she’d hidden in one of those tunnels while waiting for her military escort — a Venezuelan soldier she’d aided with food and water for his family prior to her abduction — to smuggle her out of the country. Favors equaled currency. Always.

The thought brought her back to that place and the gut-shredding fear over being discovered.

She shook the thought away. Here and now. That’s what she needed to focus on. Staying alert and strong and finding a way to be rid of Alfaro.

Shane unlocked another door and opened it.

Pitch-black.

Once again, her mind tripped back to Venezuela. To being shoved into a dank basement that reeked of piss.

No way.

No.

Way.

Light illuminated the area and she blinked, letting her eyes once again adjust to Shane, who’d turned his phone’s flashlight off and lit a lantern that sat on the floor in the small room.

“You’re safe,” he said when she refused to enter the room. “I promise.”

Somehow, when he said it, she believed it. After all he’d done for her, he deserved as much.

She needed to settle down. Get focused. She forced a breath. A long, slow one that knocked her pulse down a few beats.

She nodded. “I don’t know why you brought me here. Alfaro has found me. The quicker I leave, the better off we’ll all be.”

Shane didn’t knowwhat the hell he was doing, but one thing he did know was that Liz — Faith — wasn’t going anywhere.

And what the frig was that about? He should be handing over another pile of his emergency cash, driving this woman somewhere far away and telling her to watch her cute little ass.

“Come in,” he told Faith who was still out in the hall. “Grab a chair. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s private. And safe.”

She stepped inside, her gaze darting over the dirty walls and dusty floor before taking the soccer chair closest to the exit.

Shane closed the door, then leaned against the side wall, giving her plenty of space. After the ordeal she’d just experienced, he’d keep his distance. Let her settle in and get comfortable again.

“Just so you know,” he said. “Dusty and Trevor are on their way.”

“Why?”

He kept his hands at his sides. No folding his arms, no stiff body language that might freak her out. “Because they might be exposed, too. Especially Dusty, since he communicated with Sullivan. If they’re vulnerable, they need to decide for themselves what to do. Have you heard of Luis Gustavo? He’s known as Brutus.”

“In our line of work, anyone who’s come close to Venezuela knows Gustavo does Alfaro’s wet work.”

“Sully alerted us that Gustavo was in Canada. They lost him, but a boat that disappeared from Canada was found in Michigan. Then, this morning, Darla gave me that damned coffee.”

Faith narrowed her eyes. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. The one she asked me how I liked. When I was in Venezuela, I was addicted to a Columbian blend Alfaro served in the palace. What Darla had me try this morning? Columbian. And really similar to what Alfaro liked. Darla special-ordered it for some dude with a Spanish accent. I’m concerned it’s Brutus — Gustavo — who attacked you.”

Faith’s head dipped forward.Too much. All of it. She’d been so careful getting to Chicago, covering her tracks, staying off the grid, only using cash and burner phones and now Alfaro had tracked her.

More than likely at the coffee shop. Her own fault.

How, how, how did she think she’d be able to get away from that man? That ruthless, power-hungry, vengeful prick.

Shane had done it and his success, if abandoning his life and living under an assumed name could be considered success, had lulled her into thinking that she’d pull it off.

But Shane hadn’t killed the man’s son. She had. She’d taken a life, even though it was to save her own, and Alfaro wouldn’t stop until he took hers.

An eye for an eye.

She let out a sharp huff. “They found me.”

Still leaning on the wall, Shane nodded. “Based on what just happened to you, we have to assume so.” He held up a hand before she could respond. “By the time Brutus checks in with Alfaro and tries to locate you again, we’ll have you somewhere else.”

“No. We can’t risk your cover. Or Dusty and Trevor’s. I’m not worth it.” She headed to the door. “I grabbed my backup creds before I left my apartment. Since you’d summoned me to a meeting, I figured something was up. I grabbed my backup creds before I left my apartment. It’s one of my covers from an op two years ago. I brought it from DC just in case. I’ll use it to get…somewhere…and then get new creds.”

“No,” Shane said. “We’re not there yet.”

“Um, yeah, we are. I’m better alone anyway. I’m used to it.”

Finally, he moved. She hadn’t missed his attempt to stay glued to the wall. Being the smart man he was, he’d given her space. Enough of it to get her focused and not worried about the fact she was cloistered in an abandoned mine where anyone could walk in and eliminate her.

He stepped closer, then stopped, still leaving three feet between them. “I have an idea. If you don’t like it, you can go. At least listen first.” He held one hand out, waiting for her to grab hold. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

Trust him.

So far, he’d done nothing but help her. If she was being followed, all her trips to the coffee shop could have gotten him killed. And yet, he hadn’t abandoned her.

Lord, what had she done to this man? She grabbed his hand, gave it a hard squeeze.

At least with him, she already knew he wouldn’t turn her over to Alfaro. Turning her over meant blowing his — and his friends’ — cover.

That, Shane had told her, he’d do anything to protect.

Even if it meant her going along for the ride.

A double,then triple knock — the safe signal — sounded on the door before Dusty and Trevor strode through.

“Hey,” Shane said.

The two men nodded at him and turned their gazes to Faith, who’d claimed her seat again.

Shane waved his hand between them. “This is Dusty and Trevor.”

“Hey, girl,” Dusty said, “good to meet you in person.”

“You too. Thank you. For everything.” She lifted her hand, then let it drop. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. All of you.”

“No worries. Sully says you’re good people. And he doesn’t like a lot of people, so that’s saying something.”

Trevor snorted and held his hand to Faith, who returned the gesture.

“Glad you’re okay,” Trevor said. “Hopefully, we’ll get you out of this.”

“What’s the plan?” Dusty asked.

Hell if Shane knew. All he had was an idea and, at this point, there was no controlling his thoughts. This woman had him rolling. Rolling, rolling, rolling. And that wasn’t like him. The constant mental chaos and conflict.

But he’d been — some days still was — in her place. Alone, scared and running. Trying to figure out how to stay alive.

“Between the intel from Sully, the boat, the coffee and someone trying to snatch Faith, let’s assume Brutus is in Chicago.”

“Which means I need to leave,” Faith said. “I won’t risk all of you. Not after what you’ve done for me.”

“No,” Shane said.

She rose from the chair, shaking her head. “I don’t know if you’ve got a hero complex or what, but I’ve been on my own a long time. I can deal with this.”

Hero complex? What the fuck?He cocked his head, gave her the squinty-eyed stare his former teammates said made them piss themselves. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I know you should get your head out of your ass. Doing this on my own is the way to go. I need to disappear.”

Dusty snorted. “Great plan, baby girl. However, this isn’t about just you anymore.”

She faced Dusty, giving her own death glare and Shane understood what his former teammates felt because, yeah, he might piss himself.

“I know that, baby boy.”

Eee-doggies, she had a solid set of balls. Before the two of them got scrappy, Shane put his hands up. “If we’re assuming Brutus is here, we’re further assuming he’s frequenting the coffee shop. Right across from my bar.”

“Shit,” she said. “I led Alfaro straight to you.”

“Technically,” Dusty said, “Shane helped. I mean, dumb ass that he is, he planted you smack in the middle of his neighborhood.”

Shane grunted. Leave it to Dusty to point out the obvious. “I can’t believe I haven’t kicked your ass yet. However, you are correct. Call it a lapse in judgment. I thought I could keep an eye on her.”

He’d gotten too complacent. Too comfortable in his everyday routine. It might prove to be his biggest mistake yet.

“Alfaro,” he said, “wants both our heads. We’re not giving them to him.”

“Of course we’re not,” she said. “But how do we accomplish that?”

“We find Brutus.”

She gawked. “And what? Invite him to Darla’s for a cup of that coffee he loves so much? What’s the point? As long as Alfaro is alive, he’ll keep sending people after me.”

Shane clucked his tongue. “True. Brutus may have found you. What we don’t know is if he found me. I need to know if I’m blown. We have to locate Brutus and question him.”

“And then what?” Faith asked. “Wish him bon voyage and send him on his way?”

Another smartass. Excellent. “Funny,” he said, “but no. Once we have answers, we kill him.”