Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(81)
Gabe hurried forward while sirens raced toward him from north and south. Damn. This wasn’t the way he wanted to waste the day—explaining to Metro PD why he’d stopped traffic on the Arlington Memorial Bridge.
The tail opened the Escalade’s driver-side door and placed one damned familiar cowboy boot to the pavement. Gabe couldn’t have been more surprised.
Sam Becker stepped out with a big, shitty grin. “Agent Cartwright. Looks like you caught me again,” he drawled in that annoying lazy way he had, both of his hands raised in submission. “We keep bumping into each other like this, and there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“There’s hell to pay now. Why aren’t you in jail?”
Becker shrugged, his eyes twinkling as if he did this kind of thing every day. “Guess the police didn’t believe your story.”
“Bullshit. You were stalking Kelsey Stewart and you were armed. I can attest to that. And Mark’s got video evidence that you killed Alex Stewart, you fraud.”
Again, the shrug. Becker cast a casual glance over his shoulder at the approaching police cruiser, their blue lights flashing. “What I’d like to know now is how you’re going to explain the mayhem you’ve caused. Metro police don’t take kindly to wild west shootouts this close to the White House.”
“Hands up where I can see them,” Gabe ordered, wishing Shelby wasn’t out in the open and exposed like she was. What a target she made, but ordering her back to the car wasn’t an option. Becker didn’t need to know she’d never fired a weapon before. He needed to believe his time on earth had run out.
“You see, Junior Agent Cartwright.” He lowered his hands and tucked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, like a cowboy who had nowhere to go and all day to get there. “You don’t have a clue what kind of a hornet’s nest you just stuck your nose into. You should’ve let me intercept Mrs. Stewart. I could’ve helped her. Now you’ll be the one going to jail.”
Gabe’s gaze hit the silver glint at Becker’s belt. Damn. An FBI badge.
An inkling of awareness slithered up the back of Gabe’s neck. That’s why Becker got out of jail free. He really was FBI, and if the FBI was behind Alex’s death?
The TEAM didn’t stand a chance.
“We had no choice,” Zack’s voice was hard as steel. “What’d you expect us to do? Stay on site and wait for the shooters to come back?”
Mark bit his tongue, not up for yet one more damned confrontation. He’d been at home when he got the call and come as quickly as possible, but just missed Zack, Gabe, and the ladies.
Shelby’s car still sat in the street, smoking from the pipe bomb that had gone off under its hood. The police found pieces of a cell phone in the debris, no doubt the detonator.
Zack was on high alert at a secure location somewhere, though he’d declined to say where, and that angered Mark. The Alexandria police were at the scene at the Stewarts’ home, now a massive crime scene. Who knew where Gabe and Shelby were? Every attempt to gain control of this damned team was met with resistance. Now Zack. What else could go wrong?
The local volunteer fire department had barely rolled on scene when he’d arrived. First responders sprayed fire retardant over the smoking carcass. Kelsey’s neighbors were curious, but no longer alarmed. A tow truck was backed into position to haul the wrecked car away when the police released it.
“Did you see who did it?” Mark tried like hell to infuse calm authority into his voice. Zack was the older and more experienced agent. He should have been the senior. Challenging a superior and more talented operator never was Mark’s strong suit. “Did anyone?”
“Gabe got a good look at the shooters and we both got some shots off. He thinks we might’ve hit one. I double-checked our security footage of Kelsey’s place, now that we’ve stopped. Mother’s checking traffic cams to locate the shooters. It sure as hell seems to me we’ve got two things going on. Think about it. Who the hell uses pipe bombs and ARs?”
Mark rolled his eyes. His migraine spiked at the dumb question. “Shit, Zack. Everyone.”
Kelsey muttered something in the background. All Mark caught of her comment was, “. . . if Alex comes home, what will he...”
“What if Alex comes home?” Mark roared. “Is that what I’m hearing? You tell her that if and when Alex decides to bless us with his presence again, I’m gonna kick his ass!”
He turned away from the crime scene in sheer frustration. Damn it to hell. This wasn’t one of his prouder moments. He’d yelled at a grieving woman who wasn’t even there. To make it a hundred times worse, it was Kelsey.
Zack sucked in a deep growl on the other end of the line. “Shit, Mark. Calm down, will you? Let me rephrase. I only meant that Sam Becker isn’t the kind of guy who’d use a pipe bomb, for hell’s sake. Think about it. You’ve got the evidence yourself on video back at the office. He’d use something subtle, like that fancy rifle you told me about. The guy’s no hack. Hell, if he’s the one behind the rose—”
“He very well might be,” Mark muttered, his eyes back on the activity on the street and the tow truck, its flatbed tilted and winching Shelby’s sad little heap onto it. Rivulets of gray water streamed to the blackened pavement. “When I called the police department from home this morning to see if I could speak with him, they had no idea what I was talking about, not even the police chief.”