Game of Fear (Montgomery Justice #3)(68)

“I’m done with this,” Gasmerati growled to both Tower and Sly. “I want the whole thing to go away. Someone will take the fall. And it won’t be me.”

Tower shivered at the low, cold words, wishing he’d never heard them. “Neil Wexler will go to prison for the stolen evidence. Case closed.”

“It’s not enough. The Montgomerys won’t stop. The snitch’s hand didn’t work. Neither did the bomb. They just keep coming.”

“You’re lucky Patrick Montgomery died five years ago,” Tower said. “He’d have blown the business open.”

“True,” Jeff said. “Sometimes fate smiles. His death was a gift. Wish I knew who did it.” Jeff retrieved a Cuban cigar from its case and rolled it between his fingertips. “Now, what do we do about his sons?”

Tower shook his head. “You want me to take out the Montgomerys? All of them? They’re hard to kill.”

“A sniper’s bullet can rarely be stopped. Think about it, Tower.”

The sheriff blinked. It had been eight years since he’d picked up his rifle. His eyes were going, his reflexes weren’t what they used to be.

“You still have the stomach to be sheriff, don’t you?”

Tower stayed silent a moment too long.

“I see.” Jeff pressed a few buttons on his phone. “Take out your cell and check your messages. I’ve sent you a picture.”

A moment later, a message popped up on Tower’s phone. He tapped the screen and his knees shook. His daughter leaving her apartment building. Then a photo of her walking into her office. Another of her visiting the corner market.

She hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left home at eighteen. She hated him. She’d sensed the change in him, when he’d thrown in with the mob. In her eyes, he’d fallen off his pedestal. But she was Tower’s only remaining child and he still loved her.

Gasmerati knew it.

Tower was trapped.

“I understand,” he said. “I’ll make sure the Montgomerys are off the case. No matter what it takes.”





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CHAPTER SIXTEEN




* * *




DEB PULLED THE hood across her face and skulked just inside the entrance to the hotel behind a large decorative urn. She scanned the deserted lobby for anything out of the ordinary. They’d agreed not to stay in the same place two nights in a row.

This wasn’t a bad spot to hole up.

After what seemed like forever, the sleepy clerk gave Gabe a key card. He ignored Deb and headed toward the elevator.

The clerk yawned and disappeared behind a door.

Deb hurried to the elevators, head bowed. Just in case.

Gabe waited for her. The elevator doors slipped open and they stepped inside.

A bit of her tension left her.

“Zach will have the plane ready at first light.” He punched the fourth floor.

“I just hope they can give us a lead.”

“Shannon was killed for a reason,” Gabe said. “Maybe she wrote down a name or a place. Something we can trace.”

Deb had to believe someone, somewhere knew where her sister was. She and Gabe just had to find it.

Once at their room, he slipped the card into the lock. The door creaked open to reveal a much different room from the motel last night. “Your brother knows how to pick them,” Deb said, checking the sitting area, then pulling back the curtains. Denver’s city lights twinkled in the darkness like a glowing carpet.

“Yeah, he came through. I don’t want to know how.” He thumbed through the IDs Zach had generated. His brother had simply handed over several sets without being asked. They could sign in as a different couple as the need came up—as long as they went someplace where they wouldn’t be recognized. Having a wealthy ex-spy, ex-movie star around was coming in handy.

“Your family is . . .” She didn’t know quite how to describe them. “. . . resourceful.” Actually, they were amazing. Their own little commando unit. They might straddle the gray on occasion, but Deb would never doubt their loyalty . . . or their commitment to doing what was right.

Each member of Gabe’s family seemed to have justice carved on their soul. More importantly, they really stuck together.

The Lansings had cracked some in adversity. Her heart ached.

“My brothers have their moments.” Gabe scowled. “Except Nick. He gets a huge mark for the stunt he pulled.”

“You probably don’t want to hear this, but he was living up to the deal he made when he took his job. It requires secrecy. You did the same thing when you started pretending to be a broken-down ex-cop bartender.” She walked over to the mini fridge and opened it, scanning the offerings. “Want a soda or a beer? Pretzels, maybe?”

“Don’t confuse me with facts, Deb. And yeah. Pretzels and a beer would be great right now. Just one, though. Can’t afford not to think.”

He sank into the couch. “I still want to be pissed at Nick. For a while anyway.”

She grabbed two cans, then sat beside Gabe and passed one over.

They cracked them open. While she ripped the pretzel bag, he took a long, slow swig from his beer. “What’s this really about?”

“Nick hid the truth. Steve Paretti was my best friend. When I realized he’d played me all along, I started doubting myself. How was I supposed to be a cop if I could let someone fool me like that? All my life.”