Sweet Revenge

Chapter 14

Laney scrambled into her apartment, her breath rushing out. God. When Matt had turned around, she’d seen his bare back for the first time. Shock had filled her seeing at the scars along his back, and then her heart had stopped as she’d noticed the surgical slice adjacent to his 4C vertebra.

How was that even possible?

One look and she’d known exactly what the cut meant. Exactly what killing device lay just under his skin—ready to detonate and kill him.

If he realized who she was, he’d kill her. Or rather, he’d dump her in the back of his car and return her to hell. She knew his training, and she knew she’d never escape him if he figured out who she was. What she was.

She had to run.

She yanked on clothes and headed for the go bag in her closet.

He knocked on the door.

She twirled around, and a rock crashed into her gut.

The door opened, and he poked his head in. “Smitty’s yelling for us. It’s time to open.”

When she swallowed, she tasted blood. Had she bitten her lip? “Oh yeah. We should go.” Fetching a hair clip off the counter, she fastened her hair up and forced herself to walk toward Matt. The first break she got during the day, she’d run. Hard and fast.

She shot him a smile and almost yelped when he grabbed her arm.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You’re white as paste.”

Numb, she nodded. “Yes. Really bad cramps.”

“Oh.” He led her outside and shut her door, waiting for her to lock it with fumbling hands. “If you start feeling poorly, you need to go rest today.”

“I’ll be fine. No worries.” She swallowed. The scars on his back didn’t lie. He stood next to her, suddenly large and formidable. Dangerous. Deadly, even. They reached the bar, and she all but ran for Smitty.

He snapped his lime green suspenders. “Everything is ready. I have soup on and burgers ready to go. Open the doors, Matt.”

Matt loped over to unlock the main doors. “I’ll get beer in plastic cups ready,” he said, returning to the bar.

The first few customers wandered inside, many carrying balloons and stuffed animals. Apparently the carnival had been going for some time. Laney kept to pouring drinks, her gaze on the exits. She had to get out of there.

An hour in, Smitty asked Matt to help with the garbage, and she found her chance. She moved to retrieve her purse from under the bar.

A cry of angst filtered through the crowd. Laney turned, her heart kicking into gear. June rushed inside, carrying her limp grandson.

Laney’s feet rooted in place. Fear roared her heartbeat through her ears. “June?”

“It’s Phillip,” June rushed, her eyes filling with tears.

Panic raced down Laney’s spine as she looked at the little boy. His lips were turning blue, and his eyes were fluttering shut.

What the hell?

Laney hurried around from the bar, her gaze on the little boy. “What’s wrong?”

June started crying. “I don’t know. He fell down the street, and he’s having trouble breathing.”

As they came closer, panic cascaded off them. Phillip’s eyes flipped open, filled with fear. Laney stepped back, her stomach revolting. His lips shouldn’t be that color. She searched frantically for help. Smitty and Matt had taken out the garbage. There was only her.

June lay her grandson on the bar. He gasped for breath.

“Oh God,” Laney murmured. How hurt was he?

It had been too long.

She swallowed down bile and launched into action. There was no choice. If she didn’t do something, the boy might die. So she shoved all thought, all feeling out of the way to be dealt with later.

“Call 911,” she ordered, reaching for his abdomen. “What did he fall on?”

June patted his legs. “The crane operator already called the paramedics. They’re coming.” She battled back tears. “He was running and tripped, flying into the fire hydrant.”

Laney focused on the now-wheezing boy. She couldn’t let him die. “It’s okay, Phillip. We’re going to fix this. We probably have a rib fracture, but let’s check out the rest of you.” That quickly, she fell right back into the jargon. “Okay. Inhale, and let’s check your pain level.”

Phillip frowned. “Huh?”

“Breathe.” She ran her hands over his neck and head, peering closely at his pupils.

He sucked in air and winced. “Hurts.”

She nodded. “Okay. Breathe again.” She leaned in and listened for crepitus. Yep. Crackling. She gently slid her fingers along his upper ribs. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes.” Tears filled his young eyes.

The sound of sirens trilled through the day. Thank God. An ambulance screeched to a stop outside in the alley, and two paramedics carrying a stretcher rushed inside followed by Matt and Smitty.

Laney focused on the medical personnel and tried to use layman’s terms. “Broken rib, most likely the second one. Local tenderness and crackling over the fracture along with pain when inhaling. No allergies, no known medical problems. He’s going into shock,” she said tersely to one of the paramedics.

They kept moving forward. One turned toward her. “What kind of crackling?”

She leaned in. “Definite crepitus.”

The first man grunted as they lifted Phillip onto the stretcher. “Nice job. You a doctor?”

“N-no.” She shook her head. “I just watch a lot of television.”

The paramedic nodded and quickly rolled Phillip out to the ambulance with his grandmother following.

The bar quieted. Laney looked down at her trembling hands, and a roaring filled her ears. Then she glanced up to find Matt watching her. Betrayal glowed in his eyes only to be quickly veiled.

She thought when she’d seen the scar next to his spine there would be time to run. Apparently not. “What?”

“Definite crepitus?” he asked. His gaze remained closed, but a heart-stopping tension spiraled out from him.

How in the hell had he heard that? There was no way he could’ve heard. She opened her eyes wide. “I heard the term on Dr. Oz.”

His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

He knew. He definitely knew.

The soldier wasn’t stupid, now was he? Heat filled her face so quickly her cheeks burned. Damn it. So she lifted her chin. There was no way to hide now.

His lip curled in almost a snarl.

Yeah. She’d seen that expression before.

The sheriff rushed through the front door, gun drawn.

Laney edged closer to the cop. “The ambulance already left, Todd.”

He pointed the gun at Matt as a deputy hurried over with handcuffs. “Matt Dean? You’re under arrest for the murder of Greg Garrison.”

Matt allowed the deputy to cuff his hands behind his back, his face remaining placid. “Greg is dead?”

“Like you didn’t know that,” Todd said.

Laney staggered back against the bar, her breath heating. How could Greg be dead? “When did he die?”

“Last night,” Todd said, holstering his gun.

“Matt worked all night.” She spoke without thinking. A frantic hope burst in her chest. If they took him in, she could flee. “But, well, he did disappear for a while—maybe an hour.”

Matt’s gaze remained on her, his chin lifting. The deputy grabbed his arm and began pushing him toward the door. As Matt neared her, he leaned into her space. “You run from me, Dr. Peters, and it’ll be the worst day of your life when I find you,” he whispered before the deputy yanked him away. Matt looked back over his shoulder as they reached the door. “And I promise, I will find you.”

Laney blinked as the door closed, fighting down shock and fear. There was no time.

She had to run. Now.

A series of low hums filled the one interrogation room in the sheriff’s office. Matt searched for the camera, finally finding the lens hidden in an air vent on the ceiling. Smooth cedar planks made up the walls, dingy tiles spread across the floor, and a scarred wooden table sat in the middle.

They’d secured his cuffs to a ring set into the table.

He could be free in seconds if he wished.

Instead, he waited until the sheriff finished reading a rather thin file. As an interrogation technique, it sucked. If the cop wanted to wait for Matt to speak first, he’d wait all day.

Except Matt needed to get out of the station and find Laney. How the fuck could she be the surgeon? But she was. Not only had she handled Phillip’s injury like a pro, the truth had shimmered in her eyes when she’d looked at Matt afterward. She knew who he was… what he was. Hell, maybe she’d even implanted the device that would soon kill him.

Anger rode through him, and he channeled the fury into ice. He could control his body, his mind, and his emotions. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to have emotions. So the ache in his chest was not from her betrayal. Not at all.

The sheriff gave in first. “I understand why you killed Greg, but why Claire?”

“I haven’t killed anybody.” Not true, but adding the qualifier “in your town” would sound wrong.

“We have a witness who saw you leave Greg’s home within the time frame for death.”

Matt shook his head. “Impossible. I’ve never been to Greg’s. What did your witness say?”

The sheriff shrugged. “He described you really well, height and weight. We’ll plug you into a lineup later.”

Bullshit. If a witness had accurately identified Matt, he’d be under arrest right now. The sheriff was bluffing and doing a decent job of it.

“We also found your prints,” the sheriff said, shutting the manila file and smiling.

Excellent—the cop was lying in order to trap Matt. For a brief moment, Matt had wondered if a witness could identify him as leaving Greg’s. Sure, he’d been cautious. But a soldier never knew who was hanging out on roof watching a neighborhood. Of course, he would’ve heard a heartbeat. “That’s impossible, because I’ve never been to Greg’s house.” Or rather, he’d been wearing gloves while at Greg’s house.

The sheriff narrowed shrewd eyes. “How did your prints end up in his house?”

Matt leaned forward. “I understand you’re doing your job, but lying to me won’t work. There are no prints because I’ve never been to Greg’s.” More important, he hadn’t been arrested. The cuffs were for show. “Now either arrest me, or uncuff me.”

“Know the law, do you?”

“Yes, and I also figure you’re trying to get a warrant right now to arrest me, which you won’t get, because you have no probable cause.” If everyone follows the law. “I’d bet you’re also trying to get a search warrant for my place. Again, no probable cause.” Matt sat back.

“I don’t like you.”

“Why would you?” Matt asked. “I’m a new guy in town, and you don’t know me. But I had no reason to kill either Claire or Greg.”

“You know what I think?” The sheriff tapped his fingers on the table. “I think you’re a whack-job who sends creepy notes to women, stalks them, and later kills them. Claire was victim number one in my town.”

“And Greg?” Matt asked.

“Greg probably saw something he shouldn’t have. He was infatuated with Laney and everybody knew it. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a bit of a stalker. So, what did he see? You leaving notes for Laney? For Claire?”

Not a bad interpretation, actually. Of course, since the killer wasn’t Matt, that left a problem for the sheriff. Unless the sheriff obtained the search warrant, because then Matt was screwed. He hadn’t had a chance yet to dispose of the photographs he’d stolen from the crime scene at Greg’s. He’d planned to take care of them during the carnival, but everything had gone to shit too quickly. “I didn’t even know Greg had been killed until you faked my arrest earlier.”

“There was nothing fake about your arrest. I felt you were dangerous to those around you, and I took precautions.” The sheriff tossed bullshit with the best of them. “If you didn’t kill Greg and stalk Laney, then who did? You’ve been around Laney all week. Who else besides Greg has been watching her?”

“Nobody I noticed.” Matt would’ve felt if something was off. Well, probably. He’d definitely been off his game since meeting Laney, and he deserved the shock he’d gotten. The woman had been lying from day one, and yet he’d never suspected her of being the commander’s surgeon.

The faint that first night had thrown him completely off. It had been real, and the blood across his chest had caused it. Was that why she’d fled the commander and his organization? A doctor afraid of blood wouldn’t have been useful to them. What had caused her fear?

Matt allowed the chains to clank together. “Look me in the eye, sheriff. Can you tell when a guy is lying?”

“Yes.” The sheriff leaned forward. “You’re full of shit and have more secrets than a guy running for office.”

“Perhaps, but do you really think I killed either Claire or Greg?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know. My gut tells me you’d have no problem killing.”

Matt nodded. “I’ve done plenty of things to answer for—mostly under orders. But killing an innocent woman? Never.” He let the truth show in his eyes. “Claire was a sweet, helpless woman, and I wouldn’t have hurt her.”

“What about Laney?” the sheriff asked.

Matt forced a fond smile, when all he wanted to do was growl. Of course, he’d thought Laney innocent and helpless, too. Turned out the ex-doctor was anything but sweet. For the first time since meeting her, Matt’s world centered and refocused. No emotion existed—only the mission. Whatever it took, he’d make her talk. “I’m hoping Laney and I have a future.” They damn well had a future—one that consisted of her saving his brothers’ lives. Whether she wanted to or not.

“A future?”

“Sure.” Matt lifted a shoulder. “I’ve been looking for somebody like her for a very long time.”

“I see.” Someone knocked on the door, and Todd hitched his way to poke his head out the door.

Matt could clearly hear the deputy whisper that the judge had refused both warrants based on lack of probable cause. Well, chalk one up for a judge who followed the Constitution.

The sheriff loped back around the table and took out a cell phone, snapping Matt’s photograph.

Damn it. “What the hell was that for?”

“Just in case.” The sheriff stretched across the table and unlocked the cuffs. “Don’t leave town, or I’ll plaster your picture all over the news in order to get you back here.”

“I have places to be.” He had to get the phone away from the cop.

“Not until I wrap up this investigation. Besides, you have a future to plan with the bar owner, right?”

Matt stood and stretched his neck. “I’m not going anywhere. If you need me, I’ll be with Laney.” The truth of the words had an ominous ring to them, so he tried for a disarming smile. “I’ll need a ride back to the bar.”

The sheriff yanked keys from his pockets. “I’d be more than happy to take you back. Any chance you’ll invite me in for coffee?”

“You’re not my type.” Matt had to get to those pictures and destroy them before the sheriff managed to wrangle a warrant. It was probably a matter of time. He gestured the sheriff in front of him and ignored the pointed looks from deputies as they maneuvered through the station and out to the car. He chose to sit in the front seat.

The sheriff sighed and twisted the ignition. He drove quickly and with sharp movements down the street. “Why do I get the feeling you know more than you’re saying?”

Matt glanced out the window at the passing storefronts. “You’ll want to drive into the alley to avoid the carnival.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I’ve lived here since birth.”

Speaking of which. “The coroner said you’re old friends—that you’ve known her forever.” While Matt had found the surgeon he hunted, he still wondered at Tasha’s false background.

“I have.” The sheriff’s consonants lifted as he told a lie.

Matt turned toward him. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Sure I am.” The sheriff turned down the alley. “Why are you asking about Dr. Friedan?”

Matt shrugged. “Laney met with her about Claire’s death, considering Laney is getting notes, and I could tell the woman was lying about her background. Curiosity had me asking.”

“You’re a human lie detector, are you?”

Hell, no. Nathan was the human lie detector. “I’m trained, Sheriff.”

Todd pulled to a stop. “Well, in this case you’re wrong. Stay where I can find you, Dean.”

“No problem.” Matt unfolded from the car and didn’t look back as he headed through the bar, where Smitty was finishing setting out another plate of hamburgers.

The bartender lifted bushy eyebrows. “You break out of jail?”

Matt snorted. “No. They didn’t actually arrest me… just wanted to rattle my cage. Where’s Laney?”

Smitty rubbed his forehead. “She headed up with a migraine after you were taken to the pokey. Haven’t seen her since.”

“I’ll go check on her.” The woman had run. He’d told her not to flee, and she’d done it anyway. Damn it. He took the stairs three at a time and stopped at her open doorway. A cursory glance around her apartment showed nothing out of place. She’d probably already had a bag ready to go.

Straightening his shoulders, he stalked toward the nearest photograph of Laney and her brother. He ripped off the back and studied more closely. Manipulated. The picture had been altered. All of the pictures had been manipulated. Laney probably didn’t even know the guy in the pics.

Matt should’ve looked closer.

Yanking his phone from his pocket, he dialed Shane.

“Hi, Matt. I have news,” Shane said.

“What?”

“Nate called in, and the postmarks from the payoff for your friend’s loan were sent from Charmed. Somebody in town helped her out.”

Matt closed his eyes briefly. “She helped herself out. Laney Jacobs is the surgeon.” Matt yanked open drawers in a systematic search of the apartment. He found her phone crumpled and smashed in the garbage. “She’s on the run now.”

Quiet cascaded over the line for several beats. “Laney is the doctor? Are you sure?”

“Positive.” The woman had hidden her tracks well. There was nothing left to find in the apartment. He hurried out the door and into his own place to fetch supplies. “I need to find where she’s gone.”

“Let me bring up the satellite I hacked into a few days ago,” Shane murmured.

“Call me when you find her.” Matt clicked off.

Striding through the apartment, he threw clothes and necessities into his backpack. Finally, he hurried toward the hidey-hole he’d created under a cupboard in the sink. He might as well destroy those pictures on the way to find Laney. He reached in… and stilled.

The photographs were gone.