ELEVENRob stared at the lobby entrance, watching for anything that seemed out of place. Han’s goon squad had to know they wouldn’t get very far in the Malibu, not with the Chevy as damaged as it was. The Korean mafia would be looking for them, but Manhattan was a crowded place. The thugs might eventually find them, but it’d take time.
He couldn’t believe Hernández sold them out, and it was too fantastic to believe that both Drew and Lou were moles. No. There had to be another explanation. But what was it? Every time Rob reached out to someone for help, Han came down on them. There had to be a leak in the service somewhere, but where? He didn’t have a plan, and he was still pondering how they’d been ambushed, and what to do about it, when his phone rang. It was Lou.
“Cogburn,” he said, putting the phone on speaker so Bae could hear. She was neck deep in this too and deserved to know what was happening.
“Where are you? It’s almost noon. Martinelli is getting antsy.”
“Han’s men jumped us,” he said, his tone neutral as he listened for Lou’s reaction.
“What! When? Where?” she shouted. Lou was either actually surprised or was a hell of an actress.
“About five blocks from DPM,” he said, using the marshal service’s shorthand for the Daniel Patrick Moynihan building.
“Are you shitting me? How’d they know?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Are you okay? Is Han safe? Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
He thought about it. “We’re safe, and let’s leave it at that. They were waiting for us, Lou.”
“You think I tipped them? Rooster! You know me better than that!”
“I trust you, but look at it from my point of view. Every time I–”
“I understand that!” Lou snapped, cutting him off. “But you have to trust someone. You can’t do this alone.”
“We need another plan. Who did you tell we were coming?”
“Nobody that didn’t need to know.”
“So the leak could be anywhere. The Marshals office, Martinelli’s office…”
“We didn’t tip them, Cogburn,” Lou said, her voice hard. He knew she meant the Marshal Service. It was hard to believe it would be anyone in their office, but someone, somewhere, sure as hell had been talking.
“Any word from SDM Gwynn?” he asked.
“No. We’ve issued a BOLO for him, but nothing yet.”
“BOLO?” Bae whispered.
“Understood.” He leaned over to Bae. “Be On the Look Out,” he whispered to answer her question.
“Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you,” Lou repeated.
“No. Han has to be watching. You’ll lead them right to us.” Since it was Saturday, DPM, and practically everything around it, was closed. Any car leaving there would be easy to follow.
“Then I’ll bring a dozen men. We’ve got to get you off the street!”
He considered it. Lou’s plan was a solid one and was right out of the U.S. Marshal playbook. Surround the witness with bodies. Once they were inside the security cordon surrounding DPM, they’d probably be safe. Probably. There were so many unknowns.
He was still thinking about her proposal when Lou spoke again. “Shit. Martinelli is calling. Let me call you back,” she said and was gone.
Bae was looking at him, her fear and questions clear in her eyes. “The shit is about to really hit the fan now,” he muttered.
“If you trust this Lou chick, why don’t you let her help us?”
“Because I can’t figure out how Han knew we were coming. He’s been one step ahead of us all the way.”
He looked around the lobby. They were off the street, but they were still exposed. The hotel lobby was a good place for an emergency shelter, but it wasn’t ideal if Han was systematically checking hotels and restaurants. A shootout in a hotel lobby was near the bottom of the list of things he wanted to be involved in.
“Let’s get a room. I don’t like sitting out here in the open. I feel exposed.”
He checked them in, using his badge to clear away some of the bullshit. “Listen to me,” he said firmly. “This woman is in federal witness protection. I want a room other than the one you assign us in the system. If anyone comes asking for us, I want you to follow your procedures. However, if they threaten you, I want you to be as cooperative as possible, for your own safety, but I want you to send them to the room listed in the system. The men looking for her are not nice. Don’t try to warn me. Do exactly as they say. Let them see the check in record for themselves if they want to. Give them a key if they ask for it. If it comes to it, your best chance to survive this is to tell no one, play dumb, and let them decide I gave them the slip on my own. They’ve already killed a federal marshal. They won’t hesitate to kill you too, understand?”
Drew might not be dead, but if Han had him, as Rob suspected, it was almost certain that if Drew wasn’t dead, he was probably wishing he were.
The woman behind the counter, Tracy according to her name tag, nodded, her eyes huge. “I understand.”
Rob leaned on the counter, his face hard. “Now, let me make something very clear. If someone kicks in my door, you’d better pray they kill me, because if I survive, I’ll have you thrown so far under the jail you’ll never see daylight again. Have I made myself clear?”
She nodded and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
He smiled. “Now relax. Chances are they won’t show up. If they do, do exactly as I’ve instructed. We’ll be gone by morning. If they show up after that, tell them I was here but I’d checked out. Let them see for themselves if they want. Understand?”
She nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. What room are you assigning us?”
“1022.”
“Make sure you keep the rooms immediately around 1022 unoccupied if you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll take one of the ones near 1022 you’re going to keep unoccupied.”
“Yes, sir.” Fearing for her life made Tracy very cooperative.
“Do you have a master key, like housekeeping uses? I’d like to have that in case I need it.”
“Yes, sir. I can make you one of those.”
“Do it.”
After a moment she passed the card to him. “Now, where are we, if anyone asks?”
“Tenth floor, room 1022.”
“Good. Best to forget we were ever here. We’re just another couple checking in. I made no mention I was a federal marshal. We’re just Mr. and Mrs. Rob Cogburn.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Relax. It’s going to be okay. Just follow your procedures until they threaten you, then tell them everything you know except that I identified myself as a marshal, and you don’t know anything about the extra room. They’ll believe you and you’ll be okay.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
He nodded, took Bae’s arm, and escorted her to the elevators. They rode up to the tenth floor, and as they walked down the hall, he tried the card on several doors. It unlocked them all. He opened room 1027, two doors down and across the hall from their assigned room. From there he should be able to hear someone kick the door open, and he’d definitely hear any gunshot other than a suppressed.22. Now all they had to do was sit back and wait for word from Lou. They’d had breakfast, but lunch and dinner, if they were still there, was going to be slim pickings. They’d probably have to eat out of a vending machine. He didn’t dare take Bae out of the room, and having room service deliver to an unoccupied room would be a dead giveaway if anyone thought to check.
As soon as the door swung shut, Bae turned and stepped into his arms. He wrapped her up and held her, resting his cheek against her head.
“You saved me… again. Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m starting to get a little sore, but not the good kind.”
He nodded in agreement. He was starting to feel the effects of the two crashes himself. He held her for a long moment. He didn’t think Han would be able to track them down. There were too many places they could hide. It’d take the jopok hours to canvas all the hotels and restaurants they could hide in that were within walking distance of where they were attacked, and the Koreans couldn’t know they didn’t take a cab. If the goons did come calling, he’d done all he could to protect both Bae and Tracy.
She stepped out of his arms and looked up at him. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to badly, but he couldn’t be distracted, especially now. They were in the lion’s den and he had to stay sharp.
“Make yourself comfortable. You hungry?” he asked softly. “I’ll go see what I can find in–” he began.
She shook her head. “No. Not now.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket. It was at ninety percent charge. In their mad dash to escape, he’d left the charger in the car. Pursing his lips, he turned the phone off. He’d turn it on again later and check for messages, but he needed it to stay charged. He’d want it later.
He sat down on the bed, propped against the headboard, and turned on the television. Bae joined him and snuggled in close. He wrapped his arm around her as he stared at the television, but he saw nothing. He was turning the problem of Han over in his mind. How had Han known? If Drew or Lou wasn’t the mole, how had Han known which car they were in to attack them?
He idly flicked through the channels, pausing for a moment before losing interest and moving on. He was restless. After a time he stood, paced the room, and looked through the peephole. He felt trapped, like Han’s goons were right outside the room waiting for him to open the door, like they were hiding behind every tree and every car. No place felt safe, not even the room.
“What’s wrong?” Bae whispered.
“Nothing.”
“Something is. You’re so tense.”
“You think?” he asked, putting some lilting tease in his tone.
She watched him pace a moment. “You need to relax.”
“How the hell am I supposed to relax?” he growled quietly, and then softened his tone. Their predicament wasn’t her fault, so there was no reason to take his fear and frustration out on her. “Your brother tried to kill you again not two hours ago. We barely got away.”
“I know. But you need to rest. How are you going to protect me if you’re exhausted?”
“I know, but I–”
“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starting to get hungry.”
He glanced around the room but there was no clock, and he didn’t wear a watch. He normally used his phone to tell the time, but it was off, and he was loathe to turn it back on just for the time. He decided it didn’t matter. They’d skipped lunch. If she was hungry, she was hungry.
“Stay in the room. I’ll go find a vending machine.”
“Why don’t you order room service?”
“I don’t want them delivering it to the room. It puts us on the radar.”
“So have them send to room 1022. You have a key. You can wait over there, and after they leave, bring it here.”
He blinked at her a moment. “That’s a damned good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
She preened. “Because I’m more than just a pretty face,” she said with a broad smile.
He couldn’t help but smile in return. “Yes, you are.” He picked up the room service menu and they looked it over together. “I’m thinking the filet. This will probably be our only meal today, so I feel like splurging.”
“I’ll have the same. Medium. Twice baked potato. Maybe a bottle of wine?” she suggested.
He shook his head. “Not a good idea. We don’t want our reflexes dulled.”
“Good point. Okay, no wine.”
He nodded in agreement. “Stay in the room and don’t answer the phone if it rings.”
“Where are you going?”
“To 1022 to call it in.”
He opened the door, made sure nobody was around to see which room he exited, and walked across the hall to 1022. His trusty card key opened the door and he moved to the phone, called their order in, and then repeated the process to cross back to 1027.
Twenty minutes later he was waiting in 1022 when there was a knock on the door. “Room service.”
Every hotel shootout in movies and books started the same way. The room service guy was a gangster and there was a machine gun hidden under the trays. As far as he knew, that had never happened, but he was still careful. He looked out of the peep. A kid not much older than eighteen or nineteen was standing outside the door with a tray.
He opened the door and stood behind it, just in case. “Put it on the table. Leave the tray,” he said. He’d moved his holster and weapon to the small of his back and hidden it under his shirt. He’d have to draw it left-handed, not his strong hand, but he didn’t want to advertise he had the Glock. That’d start gossip, and gossip was dangerous. Hopefully the waiter would assume the second meal was for someone that was in the bathroom, or had stepped out of the room for a moment.
The kid did as he was asked, and Rob slipped him a five on his way out. Rob waited until the waiter was gone, checked the hall, and carried the tray to the other room. He bumped the door once with his toe and it immediately opened. Bae had been waiting for him.
They feasted on green garden salad, steak, potato, and bottled water. As they ate, they talked about everything except the elephant in the room, neither of them wanting to remember how close to death they’d come. By the time they finished the meals, he felt better. He still hadn’t been able to work out how Han had tracked them, but it wasn’t preying on his mind as much anymore because it didn’t really matter. Kwang-hoon had, and that was that.
He turned his phone back on and checked his messages. There were two. He entered his PIN and put the phone on speaker so Bae could listen.
Shit is going down over here, Lou’s voice said. Martinelli is on a rampage. Give me a call as soon as you can. He deleted the message and listened to the next one. Cogburn, Hernández. Martinelli is going to call you about seven. He wants to talk to you directly. I’ve got news on what happened this afternoon. Call me. He deleted that message too. It was 6:20. He had time to talk to Lou before Martinelli called. Leaving the phone on speaker, he dialed.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you,” Lou said when she answered.
“Hello to you too, Lou. I’ve had my phone off to save the battery. What news?”
“Martinelli is chewing on the walls and raising hell with Marshal Graves. He’s blaming everything that’s happened on SDM Gwynn, and he’s starting to look at me funny too.”
“Then he’s a bigger idiot that I thought, and that’s saying something, but you said you had some news about this afternoon?”
“Yeah. The Durango and Tahoe were reported stolen last night. No connection to Han that we can determine. The steering locks were broken, so it looks legit. Probably stolen by Han so we couldn’t connect him to what happened.”
“Any word on SDM Gwynn?”
“No, and that’s a problem. Martinelli thinks he’s the leak because he’s disappeared and isn’t answering his calls.”
“I think he’s dead.”
Lou was quiet for a moment. “Do you?”
“Yeah. I suspect they killed him last night. Probably his family too.”
“I hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I. Any luck tracking down our leak?”
“None. It has to be Martinelli’s office, but he’s just as adamant it’s us. We’ve interviewed everyone involved and nothing.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“I know. I don’t want to think it’s SDM Gwynn, but–”
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t him. If it was him, he wouldn’t have warned us off last night and we’d be dead already.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. What’s Martinelli want?”
“We’re going to try to bring you in again tonight. We’re going to establish a perimeter that–”
“Not tonight,” Rob said, cutting her off. “Not unless you can get it done in the next hour or so.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to be able to see them coming, and we can’t do that in the dark.”
“We have to do it tonight. No way we can control the area with mass tomorrow.”
“Then let’s use that. We’ll do it quiet and blend in with the mass traffic around St. Andrews.”
“Actually…” Lou began slowly, “that’s pretty good thinking. We’ll be a lot harder to pick out in a crowd. You’re safe for tonight?”
“Yeah, we should be.”
“Martinelli’s not going to like that.”
“Fuck him. I’ve gotten her this close. I’m not letting some pencil-necked dipshit with no clue railroad me into doing something just so he can feel important.”
Lou snickered. “Can I quote you on that?”
“Damn straight. I’ll tell him myself when he calls.”
“I’ve got your back. What time do you want a pick up? I’m going to handle it personally.”
“Mass is at noon, so let’s plan on pick up at eleven-thirty. Be waiting at DPM by eleven and I’ll call you and give you our location. If Han has ears in the building that will give him less time to react.”
“Give me plenty of time.”
“If you’re there by eleven, you’ll have no problem reaching us by eleven-thirty.”
“So you’re close?”
“Close enough.”
“I’ll let Martinelli know.”
“Make sure he knows to keep this information tight.”
“He’ll be the only person I tell. If it leaks, it’s him or his office.”
“Good enough.”
“Be safe, Cogburn.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’d better.”
“You said Martinelli is the U.S. Attorney?” Bae asked as Rob ended the call.
“Yeah, U.S. Attorney, Southern District, New York. He’s the one building the case against your brother. He’s also the one that will authorize your admittance into witsec.”
“Do you know him?”
“No, but I know he’s supposed to be a straight shooter.” She nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let him do anything that will place you in danger.”
“Don’t you work for him?”
“No. I work for the Marshal. He’s appointed by the President and works for the Justice Department, just like Martinelli. We’re on the same team, but the Marshals don’t answer to Martinelli. We ultimately answer to the Attorney General, just like Martinelli does.”
“The Marshal?” she asked. “Aren’t you a Marshal?”
“I’m a Deputy Marshal. There is only one Marshal for each federal judicial district, so ninety-four in all. Terrance Graves is my big boss, Marshal, Southern District, New York.”
“Okay. And SDM Gwynn…?” she asked, her voice questioning.
“I report directly to SDM Andrew Gwynn, who reports to the CDM, the Chief Deputy Marshal, who in turn reports to Marshal Graves.”
She shook her head. “I’ve suddenly lost interest. But ultimately this Martinelli dude can’t order you to do something?”
“No.”
“And Marshal Graves?”
“He can, but if I thought it would endanger you, I won’t do it, I don’t care who orders it. Marshal Graves is a forty-year veteran and a good guy. Now that he’s in the loop, he’ll be on my side.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
Their meal over, Rob cleaned up their room by placing their dishes on the floor outside room 1022. It was almost seven when Rob’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was probably Martinelli.
“United States Deputy Marshal Cogburn,” he said, putting the phone on speaker again.
“Cogburn, this is Richard Martinelli, U.S. Attorney, Southern District, New York. Are you and Ms. Han safe?”
“For the moment.”
“Listen, I just got off the phone with Deputy Marshal Hernández. She said you wanted to try to bring Ms. Han in during the mass traffic in the morning.”
“That’s correct.”
“You’ve brought Ms. Han this far, so I’m going to defer to your expertise.”
He glanced at Bae. He wasn’t sure having Martinelli agree so easily made him feel any better. It was almost too easy. If Martinelli was the leak, he could afford to be generous because he knew their game plan.
“I think that’s our best option.”
“Hernández was also adamant that SDM Gwynn isn’t our leak. How can you be so sure? The facts seem to indicate otherwise.”
“I understand, but he warned me last night, in the best way he could, that Han would be coming for us. I suspect doing so cost him his life, and probably the life of his family.”
“Warned you how?”
“The names of the deputies he said he was sending to take possession of Ms. Han were Marshal Graves’ executive assistant and a deputy who retired. He countermanded a previous order he hadn’t given and told me not to bring Han to you. It was enough to tip me that something was wrong, so Ms. Han and I bugged out.”
Martinelli was quiet for a moment. “Can you explain how Han knew you were coming here today?”
“They must have guessed it was what I’d do when we weren’t where I said we were. I still haven’t figured out how they knew which car to hit, though.”
“Could SDM Gwynn have–”
“No. I never told him the make or model of the car.”
“So we may still have a mole?”
“I believe so.”
“Shit… Okay. I’ve told no one about the mass pickup tomorrow. I’ll be in the office at noon to take possession of Ms. Han. I don’t have to tell you this entire case depends on her testimony. Keep her safe, Cogburn.”
“I will, sir.”
“Do you trust Deputy Hernández?”
“With my life.”
“I hope you’re right about her, because you’re trusting not only your life, but Ms. Han’s as well.” He paused. “Get Han here, and get her here unharmed. I don’t care what you have to do, just do it.”
“I will.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, about noon.”
“Yes sir.” Rob hung up, turned his phone off, and looked at Bae. “That was too easy, and that makes me nervous.”
“You think it’s Martinelli?”
He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe it’d be him, but honestly, I don’t know.”
…TWELVEBae was starting to get sleepy. It was almost eleven and she and Rob were lying on the bed. He was propped against the headboard, watching television with the sound off as she cuddled into his side. When she’d complained about the volume, he said it was so he could hear what was going on around them.
His apprehension was making her jumpy. He was alert and wary, like he was after the fake marshal attacked them in L.A. and the Phoenix fiasco. She wanted him to hold her, to make love to her, to distract her from what was going on around them, but he’d refused. He allowed her to cuddle, but he had her on his left side with his body between her and the door and his pistol lying on the bed at his right hand.
A door thumped closed somewhere and Rob stiffened, his hand tightening briefly on the pistol before he relaxed. He was scared. He was truly worried, more so than any time since they left L.A.
“Tell me about your brother,” he said.
She didn’t move. “What about him?”
“What’s he like?”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to figure out what he might do next.”
She nodded slowly. “He’s smart, cunning, and driven. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. He can be violent or charming, depending on what he thinks will serve him best. He’s ruthless and doesn’t care about anything or anyone. The only thing he cares about is that he gets what he wants.”
“A psychopath, or at least a sociopath.”
“I’m not sure I know the difference.”
“One’s worse than the other, but both are basically people who have no regard for anyone other than themselves.”
She shrugged. “I guess. I know he thinks laws don’t apply to him. He likes to say ‘Rules are for sheeple. I make my own rules.'”
He nodded. “That fits the profile. That makes him dangerous because he won’t think twice about killing a hundred people just to get to the one he wants.”
“Yeah. I know he’s ordered the deaths of entire families of people who crossed him, just to send a message.”
“How do you know that? You said you weren’t part of the family business.”
“I wasn’t, not, but they were still my brother and father. I heard things.”
“And that’s why he’s trying to kill you?”
“I guess. Right before I left for California, he hit me. Not like you did, but hard, with his fist. I thought he broke my cheek. That’s why I left. I wanted to give him time to cool off and forget about it.”
“Why’d he hit you?”
“I told you. I wouldn’t do what he wanted. He wanted me to start muling cash for him and I refused. Dad never asked me to get involved. He always respected my decision to say out of what they were doing, but Kwang-hoon thought I needed to be in the family business. I think he just wanted me to get my hands dirty so he’d have some leverage if he needed it. The more I refused, the madder he got and the more he tried to force me. The last time I refused was when he hit me. I thought he was going to kill me.”
She stared at nothing for a long moment, her stomach roiling as she remembered the malice in his eyes. They’d always fought, but that was the first time she’d actually feared for her life.
“After he hit me, I was on the floor, and he was coming after me, when a couple of his guys pulled him back and talked him down. The next day he acted like nothing had happened. He invited me to have dinner with him and Dad.”
“You lived with him?”
“No. He lives in the house we grew up in with Dad. I have an apartment on Staten Island.” A creeping sadness came over her. “Or I did. Dad gave me an allowance, and I worked part time doing voiceovers and radio commercials.”
“Has he always been this way?”
“Yeah. Even as a kid. He was always in trouble at school. He never tortured animals or anything like that, at least not that I know of, but he used to hit me or do things to get me in trouble. It wasn’t just me. He’d do the same to other people. He once got a teacher he didn’t like fired by sneaking a gun into the school, putting it in her desk, and then reporting her. She was fired and he was a hero.”
“Nice,” he rumbled, his tone not matching his words. “Did you tell anyone what he’d done?”
“No. I didn’t even know about it until a few years later when he was bragging about it.”
“Must have been fun around your house. What did your parents do?”
“Nothing. Mom thought everyone was picking on him and blaming him for their mistakes, and Dad didn’t give a shit. I had to learn to fight, to take care of myself, just to protect myself from him. For a while it got better, but now he’s getting worse, a lot worse.” She paused as she tightened her embrace on him. “He’s sick, Rob. He’s sick but won’t get any help. Since Dad came down with cancer and turned everything over to him, Dad can’t control him in anymore. Dad tried to talk to him once, but after he did, Kwang-hoon had some guys who were loyal to Dad killed. He claimed they were plotting against him. Maybe they were, I don’t know. Anyway, that sent a clear message. Nobody’s dared to try to reel him in since, not even Dad. The best Dad could do was slow him down.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“Dead.”
He grimaced in sympathy. “I’m sorry. How?”
“Don’t be. She drowned when I was about fifteen. Drugs and alcohol. She got stoned out of her mind one day, fell into the pool, hit her head on the edge, and drowned. At least that’s the official story.”
“Jesus! Is there an unofficial story?”
Bae shrugged. “Kwang-hoon was there when it happened and found the body. She was the only one Kwang-hoon seemed to care about, but I’ve always wondered. As far as I know, he never cried over it.” She paused as she remembered how unaffected Kwang-hoon seemed by his mother’s death. “My family was a little… dysfunctional.” She pursed her lips. “Now, nobody dares question him. He won’t listen to anyone, and he’s really starting to lose his grip on reality.”
“How do you mean?”
She shook her head. “It’s only rumors, things I heard people whispering about.”
“It might be important. The more I know, the better I can predict what he might do.”
She took a moment to summon her courage to talk about what she’d seen. “People don’t mean anything to Kwang-hoon,” she began softly. “He thinks of a person and a piece of furniture in the same way, as something to be used. He’s into these weird sex games. He likes to have men and women fight, in the nude, while he watches. From what I’ve heard, they’re brutal, bloody, affairs.”
“What do you mean?” Rob asked.
Bae found out about the fights about a year ago when Ji-won came to Bo-bae, begging for her help. A drug shipment had been seized by the NYPD, and Kwang-hoon held Min-jae, Ji-won’s lover, responsible. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, and since she liked Ji-won, she’d tried to convince Kwang-hoon that Min-jae had done nothing wrong. She’d thought she’d had some success when Kwang-hoon told her that, because she’d asked, he’d decided to give Min-jae a chance to redeem himself.
Ji-won later told Bae she’d been forced to watch as Ji-won and some huge guy engaged in nude combat while locked in a clear box. It was Kwang-hoon’s way of giving Min-jae another chance, and Ji-won’s punishment for going to Bo-bae for help. Ji-won’s story was so crazy Bae hadn’t believed her until she’d looked for herself. What Bae found had chilled her to her core and made her realize Kwang-hoon was truly ill.
One day, while Kwang-hoon was out, Bae had gone to the basement to see if what Ji-won said was true. It appeared to be. There was a room built in the back corner of the basement, a room that hadn’t been there when Bae had lived in the house. The room was secured with a combination lock, but after come guessing, the home’s street address had released the shackle. Inside Bae had found a glass box barely big enough for two people to stand in. It had to be the box Ji-won told her about. Two men or women were placed inside, the door was closed and locked, and it wasn’t opened again until one of them was unconscious. The box appeared to be nearly airtight, and it was horrific to imagine two people wedged in there fighting for their lives when there was so little room to move.
There was also a large mat on the floor, shiny with oil, where masturbation and fucking matches were conducted, matches where the loser was punished and the winner rewarded to provide the proper motivation. And that wasn’t even the craziest shit rumored to have happened down there.
Over the next few days Bae had quietly started asking around, and she found out Min-jae wasn’t the only person to be punished similarly. It was Kwang-hoon’s method of exerting control, and if he was displeased by something someone did, sometimes they were given the chance to make amends by participating in his games.
When that wasn’t enough, he brought in some of his prostitutes to fight, fuck, or both, for his amusement. Apparently Kwang-hoon never participated and only watched. As far as Bae knew, nobody had died, but that was probably only because it was so damned difficult to dispose of a body. The sickness she’d felt as she looked around the large room returned, and only Rob closeness prevented her from shivering with her memories. She never told Kwang-hoon she’d visited the special room, but she’d never forgotten what supposedly went on there.
“I don’t know for sure… but I heard that he’d have guys masturbate each other, and the first one to come or go soft was punished. Sometimes a women had to fuck a bunch of guys Kwan-hoon picked out, and her husband or boyfriend had to watch as they all used her. I heard that he’d sometimes make men and women punch each other in the… in their privates… and the first one who couldn’t get up was punished. Things like that.”
“Jesus,” Rob muttered. “What a sick bastard.”
“Yeah,” Bae murmured as she forced those memories back into black box where she kept them. “When Kwang-hoon hit me the last time, that was the first time he really scared me. Had the guys not been there, I think he would have killed me… or put me in his games. So, a few days later, I made arrangements to visit Lisa in California, and a couple of weeks after that, after I completed all my voiceover work, I left. When I told Dad I was leaving and why, he told me I was being smart and to stay out of Kwang-hoon’s way. I’d have never talked, but…”
“But…?” Rob asked when she didn’t continue.
“But when someone killed Lisa, despite what the LAPD said, I knew that bullet was meant for me… and I know who ordered it. I also knew as soon as Kwang-hoon found out his thug killed the wrong woman, he’d try again.”
He nodded. They’d already discussed why she’d gone to the cops. “You’re safe now.”
She nodded. “I know.”
They were quiet for a long time and sleep started to take her. Being up so late last night and early this morning was dragging on her.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Rob snarled softly.
Her blood ran cold as she quickly sat up and made ready to run. Rob was staring at the television as a local Ford dealer hawked discounted Explorers, a map of the United Sates behind him with several large red arrows pointing from the rest of the country to New York City, with the words, The Best Deals in the Whole Country flashing over his shoulder.
“What?” she asked, looking around to see what had set him off.
“That’s it. That’s how they knew where we were,” he growled, his voice as hard a stone.
“What’s it?”
“I’m so fucking stupid!”
“Rob, what?”
“The fucking car. That’s how they knew.” He rolled to his feet. “Goddammit!” he snarled as he paced around in the room.
“What about the car?”
He stopped and stared at her, his eyes and face hard. “Last night, when we weren’t where we were supposed to be, Han, or one of his goons, knew Drew had tipped us somehow. If we could figure out what Drew wanted us to do, then they could too. Our rent car probably had Arizona plates. Not many of those around in Manhattan. They’d guessed where we were heading, and there were only so many ways into Manhattan. All they had to do was watch for a car with Arizona plates. I should have thought of that! My stupidity almost cost you your life… again!”
All thoughts of sleep forgotten, she stared at him a moment as what Rob said sunk in. “So, there’s no leak?”
He shook his head. “No, there has to be one. Someone spoofed the marshals in L.A. and let Han know so he could have a man in place… and they knew about Phoenix… and they knew to take SDM Gwynn, and when. So there’s still a leak, but at least now I know how they found us today. Maybe Han isn’t as superhuman as I thought.”
He turned his phone on, dialed, and held it to his ear. “Lou. Rob. I think I know how Han found us.” He listened for a moment and then explained to her what he’d just told Bae. “No,” he said. “We stick to the plan.” He began nodding as he listened. “Yeah. The Tribeca, room 1022, 11:30.” He listened again. “Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
She noticed that he’d given Lou the wrong room number. He was still being extra careful. “This is good news, right?” she asked after he hung up.
“Yeah, but I should have thought about the plates. We stood out like a sore thumb.”
“You can’t think of everything.”
“But that’s obvious.”
“Now, maybe. I didn’t think about it. Who thinks about the license plate on their car?”
“I should have. It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“And you have. Stop beating yourself up. It’s you against everything Kwang-hoon can pull together to throw at you, and that’s a lot. It’s hard to win when the other side knows what you’re going to do, but I’m still alive, and that means you’re winning. I trust you. Trust yourself.”
She could tell from the look on his face he wasn’t buying it. “Thanks, but I’m afraid you’re putting too much faith in me.”
“I don’t think you’re putting enough faith in yourself. You’ve kept me safe through everything he’s thrown at you.”
“We’re not out of this yet. He knows we’re here now, and he knows where we have to go. That gives him the advantage.”
“But he doesn’t know when or how, right?”
“No, but he only has to get it right once to kill you. We have to get it right every time to protect you.”
That sounded ominous. “I have faith in you.”
He looked at her, his face full of worry. “I hope it’s not misplaced.”
She went to him and melted into his chest. “It’s not. My life is in your hands, and there’s no place else I’d rather it be.” His arms went around her as she closed her eyes, drinking in the security like a sponge. She believed in him, even if he didn’t believe in himself. “Take me to bed?”
“No.”
His answer surprised her and hurt her feeling a little. “I want you.” She stretched to kiss him, but he kissed her on the forehead instead.
“I can’t.”
The hurt grew. “Why? Don’t you want me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Because I have to keep you safe. We’re not safe here, not like we were when we were on the road. I can’t be distracted. Not tonight.”
She warmed and the hurt faded. “I’m distracting?”
He released her and stepped back. “Like you don’t know,” he said, his tone teasing.
“This could be our last chance,” she tried again.
“I know, and I want to, but I can’t.”
Disappointment rolled over her like a dark cloud. “Will you at least kiss me goodnight?”
She thought he was going to say no, but he pulled her in and kissed her, a kiss as sweet and soft as the one they’d shared that morning before they left New Jersey, and it was just as amazing. Now she really wanted him, but she wouldn’t try to force him.
“Where are you going to sleep? There’s only one bed.”
“In a chair in front of the door.”
Another disappointment. Even if he hadn’t made love to her, she could have enjoyed being in his arms. There was nothing to say, so she nodded. She started pulling her shirt over her head. She wouldn’t try to force him, but maybe she could change his mind.
“Leave your clothes on. We might have to run.”
She sighed and pulled the shirt back down. He began dragging chairs, so she flipped off the television. After she’d settled into the bed, he went to her. “Goodnight,” he said, bending and taking her lips in another slow kiss.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” she sighed, patting the bed beside her.
He turned out the light. “Try to get some sleep.”
She lay quiet and still in the darkness. No place in New York City was truly dark, and she could make out Rob’s shadow as he sat in a chair, his feet against the door. He’d told her he did that so the door would wake him if it started opening, allowing him to doze, and she knew his weapon was lying in his lap, close at hand.
She couldn’t figure him out. She didn’t love him, and he didn’t love her. They’d fucked three times, and while each time was better than the time before, it was just sex. It was nothing but physical need. She was confident he’d enjoyed their encounters as much as she had, and yet he’d refused her tonight in what would likely be their last opportunity to enjoy each other.
Why? Because he was worried for her safety? She was just a job to him, and he’d never indicated otherwise. She couldn’t understand that kind of dedication and wondered if all marshals were like him. Were they as dedicated to the safety of their charges?
She’d never met anyone like him. Kwang-hoon might be losing his grip on reality, but even Dad wouldn’t stick his neck out for a stranger. Bae’s brother was trying to kill her, and a man she’d met only six days before was sitting in a chair, pistol in hand, willing to give his life to protect hers.
She pursed her lips. The whole fucking world was upside down.
-oOo-Bae swam out of darkness of sleep, a soft tickle on her lips slowly pulling away the veil of sleep. She smiled as she realized what the tickle was and pulled Rob more fully into the kiss. She was glad he’d changed his mind and was joining her in bed.
“Time to get up,” he whispered as the kiss dissolved.
She groaned. “What time is it?”
“Nine. Get up. I want to be ready to move as soon as Hernández gets here.”
“Come to bed, for just a moment.”
He brushed his lips across hers again. “Get up. Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies for breakfast.”
She groaned again and sat up, blinking in the morning light. He was freshly scrubbed, and she hadn’t heard a thing. “You’ve showered?”
“Yeah. Your turn.”
“Why didn’t you wake me? I’d have joined you.”
“That’s why I didn’t wake you. Breakfast or shower first?” he asked as he waggled the bag with the cookie inside.
“When did you get those?”
“About three this morning.”
“Is that coffee I smell?”
“It’s brewing.”
“Shower, first,” she mumbled as she stood. “No, kiss first, then shower.”
He kissed her, but it left her wanting. She was starting to wake up, and she made her way to the shower. The hot water finished the job, and when she stepped out of the shower, a cup of coffee and a hand sized cookie were waiting.
“Thank you.”
She finished her breakfast and dressed. Her clothes felt gritty and slept in, probably because they were. They sat on the edge of the bed.
“This is it?” she asked.
“I hope so.”
“Ready to get rid of me?”
“Yes, but not for the reason you might think.”
“What reason?”
“I’ll know you’re safe.”
A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “I think I’ve been safe all along.”
“I’ve done what I could, but you’ll be safer in witsec.”
“Maybe, but it won’t be as much fun.” She looked at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up in the way it did when he was amused. She smiled. “Being chased across the country by thugs and villains, dodging bullets by day, fucking our brains out by night… you certainly know how to show a girl a good time.”
He chuckled. “It’s been intense, that’s for sure.”
“Very. I certainly won’t forget it.”
“I won’t either,” he said softly. They sat in silence for a moment, lost in their thoughts. “I need to go.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Next door. Now listen to me. When I leave, I want you to go to the stairs at the end of the hall. I’ve already scoped it out. If you squeeze against the outside wall you can see our room from there through the window in the door. The dim stairway and hall lights reflecting off the glass makes it almost a mirror, so you won’t be seen. If I knock on the door before I enter the room, you run. That knock is my signal something’s wrong, so you run like hell. I’m going to give you my phone. Call Michelle Walpole, tell her who you are, and have her come get you. Understand?”
She nodded. “You don’t trust Hernández.”
“I do, but this is my doomsday plan. Lou is a big, tall, redhead. If you see anyone other than that, get ready to run, got it?”
“Got it.”
He handed her his phone before kissing her. “Let’s go.” He opened the door and checked the hall before waving her out. “Stay out of sight until I come for you.”
Bae positioned herself in the stairwell at the end of the hall just like he ordered. She could just see their room if she pressed herself into the corner by the door. She waited, peeking through the small window to watch people as they began leaving. Since we were on the tenth floor, nobody wanted to use the stairs.
She heard a knock down the hall. “Rob? It’s Lou.”
She strained as much as she could, but she couldn’t see the left side of the hall. Her heart began to thud in her chest. A moment later a big, redheaded woman and Rob crossed to their room. He slid the card into the door and motioned Lou into the room. She was carrying something in her right hand, but Bae couldn’t tell what it was. Rob approached. She wanted to go to him, but she waited until he opened the door.
“It’s okay. Come on,” he said, holding his hand out. He led her to their room. “Ms. Han Bo-bae, meet Deputy Marshal Luisa Hernández. Lou, Bae.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Han. Sorry for all you’ve been through. We’re normally better than this.”
“Call me Bae.”
“Lou,” she replied. She held a bulky vest with US Marshal stenciled on the front out to Bae. “Ballistic vest. Put it on.” She tossed the other one to Rob. “You too.”
Bae started pulling it over her head, but it got stuck and she took it back off. There was no obvious way to put it on. Rob smiled and helped her, first opening the vest up before pulling it over her head and then adjusting the Velcro strips so it fit. Lou was watching, and Bae could tell from her eyes she knew. She knew they’d been intimate and she wasn’t pleased about it. She was a big, strong, full-figured woman, a woman that would need someone like Rob to handle her. Bae had never seen a natural red headed Latina before, and her coloring made her stunningly beautiful. Bae could easily image Luisa and Rob crying out their sweaty pleasure all night, and she was surprised the green monster tried to rear its ugly head with the thought. It was none of her business if they were fucking because Bae had no claim on Rob.
“This’ll keep me safe?” Bae asked.
“It’ll hurt like hell, but it’ll stop a handgun round. It won’t do anything for a knife, so try not to get yourself stabbed,” Lou said as Rob adjusted his own vest. “Ready?”
Rob hung his badge on his belt, nodded, and took my arm. “Let’s move.”
…THIRTEENLou walked ahead of Bae and Rob. Lou was on point. If anything went down, it was her job to hold the line while Rob got Bae out of the kill box.
Lou was all business and loaded for bear. She was wearing her casual marshal uniform of blue shirt and tan pants, and like her charges, she was also wearing a ballistic vest. Her badge was prominently displayed on a chain around her neck, and she had a service weapon on each hip, the one on her left turned backwards so she could draw it with her right hand. She was a serious badass and looked the part.
Rob pulled Bae to a stop inside the door as Lou exited the building, did a quick visual sweep, and then motioned them out. He hurried Bae into the plain white Dodge double parked at the curb and blocking traffic, shoved her into the back seat, and then slid in beside her. By the time he shut the door, Lou was sitting behind the steering wheel. She started the Charger, and they were off.
Lou drove with the flow of traffic. Since it was Sunday, and they were in the part of Lower Manhattan that contained mostly municipal buildings, the traffic was relatively light. He said nothing and kept his eyes moving as he watched for threats. They made a turn he wasn’t expecting, causing a cold hand to squeeze his heart. He slowly and quietly released the stay on his weapon. Bae noticed his movement, looked down, saw what he was doing, and looked at him with panic in her eyes. The shake of his head was barely perceptible.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Ah,” Lou growled, “ConEd has the damned road closed. They were detouring traffic when I left. We’re going around the other way.” They rode in silence until a queue of cars appeared ahead. “What the hell?” she growled.
Alarm bells began ringing in his head. “What’s going on, Lou?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I don’t either, but let’s see what’s going on before we panic.” They continued to creep forward. The cars ahead of them were all making a left. “It’s still ConEd,” she said, but he could hear the concern in her voice.
Having ConEd, the power company for New York City, close one road was suspicious enough, but two was stretching the bounds of believability. There was a large electric substation complex near their location, but with everything that had happened, it still made him nervous.
They continued to roll forward. A white service truck was sitting in the road, it’s yellow strobe flashing, and a barricade was setup around an open manhole. They rolled up to the man directing traffic and Lou flashed her badge as she rolled down her window.
“U.S. Marshals. Official Business. We need to get through.”
“Yeah, I see that,” the man said.
A gun appeared in his hand. Lou floored the car in the same instant, jerking the wheel to the left as the man fired into the car. There was no way he could miss at that range. The Charger lunged ahead, crashing through the barricade before thudding heavily, slewing right, and crashing into the pickup. The air bags deployed in the front with a deafening bang as the engine screamed, the rear tires smoking as the Dodge strained to move the truck.
“Lou!” Rob cried as the engine fell silent.
“Go!” she grunted, holding her chest. “I’m okay!”
“Out!” he yelled, shoving at Bae.
They were sitting ducks and had to get out of the car. The rear glass shattered as the man began firing into the car. He pushed Bae down into the floor and covered her with his body. Lou opened her door and fell out as he reached up, released the rear door, and kicked it open with his foot to give Lou some cover. Unlike in television shows, the car’s door wouldn’t stop a bullet, but they had to open the door anyway to get out of the car, and the metal would prevent the gunman from having a clear target. He hauled Bae up as Lou fired two shots at the man to force him to duck for cover.
“Move it!” he yelled, opening the other rear door and pushing Bae out by the ass.
“Go! I’ll cover!” Lou yelled as Bae and Rob tumbled from the car.
The Dodge had run into the manhole and torn the right front tire almost completely away from the vehicle. There’d be no safety there. Using the bulk of the Charger as cover, Bae and Rob scrambled away, staying low and ducking behind the service truck before they stood and ran. He heard another flurry of rapid gunshots, a pause, then one more. He prayed the shots were from Lou, but he didn’t slow. Rob’s job was to get Bae to safety, Lou’s was to keep the gunman pinned down. He dragged her along by her hand, running as fast as he could.
A SUV rounded the corner ahead of them far too quickly for it to be someone out for a Sunday drive, the vehicle roaring toward them with its engine straining. He changed directions and began dragging her down a service alley. The Ford turned, its engine howling as it barreled after them, the hard charging Expedition gaining rapidly. Ahead of them a produce truck was making a delivery to one of the many restaurants that dotted the area. There was a gap they could easily run through that wasn’t wide enough for a car to pass. He put on a turn of speed, and Bae was barely keeping up. If she fell, they were dead, but even if she didn’t, it was going to be damned close. If they didn’t make it, the Expedition was going to run them down. They ran past the delivery truck without slowing, the Ford grinding to a stop only a few dozens of feet behind them.
He stopped, shoved Bae in front of the big International as he spun, drew his weapon, and planted in his shooting stance. Despite what television and movies showed, shooting a weapon in a crowded environment, like New York City, was a bad idea and should be avoided if possible because the risk of hitting innocents was so high.
A man opened the driver’s door. “Halt! United States–” Rob yelled.
The moment he saw his pursuer’s weapon appear, Rob fired with two quick pulls of the trigger, his Glock.40 caliber jumping in his hand. The bullets punched through the glass of the door to hit the man squarely in the center of his chest. As the gunman dropped, another man appeared from behind the box truck. Rob quickly shifted targets and squeezed twice more. The second man dropped as well, falling backward out of sight behind the truck with a cry of pain. Rob hadn’t waited to see if the second man was armed before firing, but had seen the pistol in the man’s hand as he tumbled out of sight. Rob offered a quick prayer of thanks to St. Michael, the patron saint of police officers, that both men were bad guys and he hadn’t just shot the delivery truck driver or someone from the restaurant. He turned his attention to Bae. She was bent at the waist, hands on her knees and her chest heaving as she fought for breath.
“We have to go!”
He holstered his weapon, grabbed her hand, and began running. They burst out of the alley onto another street. He made a right. He couldn’t see anything in the canyon of skyscrapers and hoped he hadn’t gotten turned around and was still headed toward DPM and safety.
“I can’t,” she gasped as she pulled him to a stop.
“We have to keep moving!” he panted.
She shook her head as she bent at the waist and placed her hands on her knees again. “I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t… run… anymore.”
He took her hand and started her walking. They had to get off the street. Standing in the open was a death sentence. “In here.” He led her into a small restaurant and escorted her to a table in the back.
“What are… we going… to do?” she panted.
He pulled out his phone. “We’re going to get some fucking answers,” he snarled. He flipped through his recent calls to find Martinelli’s number and waited as the phone rang.
“Cogburn? Where are you?”
“Han’s goons jumped us again. Lou Hernández’s been shot, possibly dead, and Bo-bae and I are on the run.”
“What?” Martinelli cried. “Goddammit! How is that possible?”
“He had guys posing as ConEd. They blocked off the two main roads to DPM, maybe all the roads for all I know, and were checking every car. We drove right into their trap.”
“Shit! I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my secretary! I drove right past them this morning and didn’t even think it could be them! It must have been Hernández!”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why she was shot and stayed behind to cover our escape.”
“Goddammit! Tell me where you are. I’ll send the marshals.”
“We’re at…” He paused as he looked at the menu. “Enchantment Sandwiches on Broadway.”
“I know the place. It’s only six or eight blocks from here. Stay there! Help’s on the way!”
He hung up.
“What are we going to do?” Bae asked, her panted breathing slowing.
“The cavalry is on the way.”
She grabbed his arm. “I’ve seen that man!”
A big guy had just entered and was looking around. He was clearly looking for someone. The sandwich shop wasn’t crowded, but there were far too many people for him to try to shoot their way out.
“Look at the table!” he hissed.
She did, but it didn’t matter. They’d been spotted. The thug began drawing a weapon as Rob pushed Bae toward the nearest door. Thankfully the shop was on the corner and had two exits. They burst through the door as gunshots and screams filled the air. He jerked her to a stop as soon as they were away from the door and pulled her back against the wall. His own back pinned them to the wall, drew his weapon, and pointed it alongside the building at the door. If the goon came out after them, he was going to have a really bad day.
He waited ten seconds. The guy was smart. He holstered his weapon, grabbed her hand, and they ran. Most of the buildings around them were office buildings and were closed, but enough restaurants and shops were open that they had options. When she began flagging, he pulled her into small boutique.
“Take that off,” he growled as he began ripping the Velcro open on his ballistic vest.
“But won’t–?” she panted.
“It stands out and makes us a target,” he said as he pulled his vest over his head, dropped it, and then returned his badge to his belt.
She began tearing at the straps and pulled her vest off before dropping it on his. He took her hand and led her out.
“Don’t look around,” he said as they strolled, pulling her close into his side to disguise his weapon and badge. “Try to relax. We’re just a couple out for a walk.”
The goons knew safety was at the Moynihan building and would probably be looking for them in that direction, so Rob and Bae turned and walked the opposite. He wanted to find a place they could go to ground until help arrived. He pulled his phone and dialed.
“United States Marshal Service.”
“Let me speak to the SDM on duty.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Deputy Marshal Rob Cogburn.”
“Stand by.” The phone rang. “Deputy Marshal Caswell.”
“Hank! Rob Cogburn. I’m in the shit.”
“Where the hell are you, Cogburn? We’ve got help on the way.”
“We were made and had to bug out. I’ve got Han but we’re exposed. We’re at…” He paused as he tried to figure out where they were. “We’re coming up on the corner of Beatty and Graffen.”
“Get to a safe spot. We’re coming.”
“Make it fast, Hank. We’re twisting in the wind here.”
“We’re already rolling. I’ll send them to your new location.”
“Let me get off–”
“Rob!” Bae hissed, her hand tightening on his.
He looked farther down the street. The man they’d seen in the sandwich shop was coming toward them. He was a smart bastard. He’d circled the block to meet them head on. The gunman was on his phone, probably calling in reinforcements, just like Rob was doing. The marshals and Han were on a collision course for a good, old-fashioned, wild west style shootout.
Rob couldn’t tell if Han’s goon had recognized them yet. They’d changed their appearance by removing the ballistic vests, which could buy them a handful of seconds, but Bae’s hair with the splash of green was a dead giveaway to their identity. He shoved his phone into his pocket without taking the time to end the call. He glanced around. There was a small grocer across the street that was open with large British and Korean flags hanging in the front window.
“This way,” he said as he pulled on Bae’s hand to start her across the street. They didn’t run, but trotted between cars like regular people. It didn’t matter. The thug was good, and crossing the street drew his attention. Rob saw the man reaching under his shirt, and that could mean only one thing. Rob jerked Bae as he began running, almost pulling her down as he did. They charged into the store, the man chasing them angling toward them as he also ran.
People stared at them as they charged into the store, Rob whirling toward the door as he drew his weapon.
“Federal Marshal! Get down!” he bellowed as he brought his weapon up and pointed it at the door. That got everyone moving and the few people in the store disappeared behind shelves. He stood in his shooting stance, his weapon unwavering as it pointed at the front of the store. The man didn’t show. He knew Rob would be waiting.
“Move back,” Rob hissed as they shuffled toward the back of the store. When he no longer had a clear line of fire to the windows, he ducked behind the shelving before they hurried down the aisle to the back of the store. There was a large opening with heavy plastic strips, once clear but yellowing and scared with age, hanging to form a door. He led Bae through them into the stock room. There was a large double door, probably used for bringing in goods, but there was a heavy chain wrapped around the handles with a pad lock.
“Shit!” he snarled as he jerked on the lock in case it wasn’t latched. It was. The chained and locked doors violated all kinds of fire and safety codes, but Rob had bigger issues on his mind. He drew his weapon again.
“Are you going to shoot it off?” Bae murmured.
“No. Too dangerous,” he said as he moved back to the plastic strips that formed the door.
“More dangerous than this?” she cried, her incredulity clear.
“That only works in the movies, and I don’t want a bullet ricocheting around in here.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Bae. “Call SDM Caswell. Tell him where we are,” he said as he peeked between the strips and watched for movement.
Customers and employees had probably cleared out, so if anyone was moving in the store, it was likely the gorilla who was after them. Rob couldn’t shoot at movement, but it made him feel better that a lot of innocent people wouldn’t be standing around in the line of fire if he did have to discharge his weapon.
“Where are we?” Bae asked.
“Fuck, I don’t know! Tell him it’s the grocery store with the Union Jack and Korean flags in the window.”
He heard Bae speaking into the phone, but he ignored her. This was a good location, a location he could hold, and time was on their side. The goon was going to have to make his move, and soon, or it’d be too late.
“He said five minutes.”
“Five minutes! What the fuck are they doing, jacking each other off?” Rob snarled.
She spoke into the phone again. “He said NYPD has blocked off the roads around us because of the gunshots. They’re on foot.”
“Shit!”
“He said they’re coming and to just hold on.”
She listened again. “I don’t know what street we’re on! He wants to know if we’re on Beatty or Gaffen.”
“Beatty, just east of Gaffen.”
She repeated it into the phone. “He said they had it. They’re about six blocks away.”
He began to relax. They were going to make it.
He saw a shadow of movement. He waved his hand in the universal get down gesture, and Bae moved behind some carboard boxes and crouched. He moved to the other side of the door where he’d be out of sight until it was too late and got ready. The man was rightfully cautious. He didn’t know if Rob and Bae were still in the store, waiting to ambush him, or had gone out the back. A figure, little more than a blurred shape, paused at the door to the stock room, and Rob tightened his grip on his Glock as he held it at ready close to his chest. He had to be sure before he fired. He didn’t want to kill a customer or an employee, and he wanted to be sure of his target before he committed to action.
Rob glanced at Bae. She was sitting behind the boxes, her eyes huge with her arms around her knees, pulling them tight to her chest to make herself as small as possible and rocking silently with a hand clasped firmly over her mouth. She was clearly terrified.
A hand began to open the curtain. If the hand grasped a gun, Rob would know it was his target, but the hand was empty as it slowly opened a gap in the plastic. The man’s other hand was visible, but the plastic was so opaque and yellowed he couldn’t be sure it held anything. Rob licked his lips before he stepped from the wall and pivoted to point his weapon at the shape on the other side of the plastic. “U.S. Marsh–”
The man jerked back. Rob plunged through the curtain, wanting to press his advantage before the man could recover from his start. Rob and Han’s goon stood nose to nose.
In emergency situations, people rarely rose to the occasion. They normally fall to their training, and Rob’s training took over. He tried to extend his weapon while simultaneously protecting himself from his adversary by getting in close. The other man did the same, and the two men went down in a tangle. The thug landed on Rob’s gun hand and twisted the Glock from his grip, almost breaking Rob’s wrist in the process. The goon kicked away from Rob, trying to get enough space to bring his weapon to bear. Rob didn’t have time to reach his weapon, so he kicked out, his boot hitting the gunman in the chest and spoiling his aim. It was a desperation move, but it worked. The thug’s gun roared, shattering the glass door of the ice cream case.
The thug threw himself away from Rob, still trying to gain some space, but Rob followed, lunging at him from his position on the floor, desperately trying to stay in close where the thug couldn’t use his weapon. Rob had to gain control of the man’s pistol or he was dead. As the thug scrambled to his feet, Rob hit him in the legs and knocked him to his back. Rob grabbed the gun as his opponent tried to point it at him down the length of his body. The two men strained for a moment, but Rob had the leverage advantage and was able to twist the gorilla’s arm to the side. The gun roared again when the gunman’s hand hit the floor. Rob imagined he felt the bullet’s passing breeze on his shoulder, but there was no pain. Another hole appearing in the cooler, but now the slide was jammed and a partially ejected shell was visible. With the slide wedged by the shell casing, the gun was useless until the thug cleared the jam.
No longer able to use his weapon, the gunman dropped it as the two men squirmed and twisted on the floor, grunting and gasping in effort and pain. Rob almost had him in an arm bar, but the goon obviously had some training and slipped the developing hold to roll away and bound to his feet. Rob knew he’d never be able to reach his weapon in time, and the goon’s was useless. The two men were left with no choice but to go medieval on each other.
Rob was still scrambling to his feet when the other man kicked. Rob twisted and took the blow on his shoulder while bulling his way through the kick. The impact hurt like a bitch, but Rob didn’t slow. Rob was still off balance from the man’s kick when he tackled the gunman around the waist and drove him backwards. The goon roared with pain as the two men crashed into the milk and egg cooler, smashing eggs and bursting milk cartons. They rolled into the floor, grappling as they tumbled and rolled, eggs and milk covering the two big men in slime and making it impossible for the marshal to gain control of his opponent.
Rob tried to break away to reach his sidearm, but the goon hit him like a freight train and tried to drive Rob through the hard concrete floor. Rob crashed painfully to the floor on his back, the marshal loudly crying out his agony, but he had no chance to recover. Rob dodged a punch, the thug’s fist striking a glancing blow on Rob’s cheek that made him see stars. His teeth bared in a feral snarl, Rob got his hand under the other man’s chin and began to force the other man’s head back as he bellowed in effort, every muscle in Rob’s body burning with the effort. Rob was no longer a U.S. Marshal, no longer a man. He was an animal fighting for its survival.
The big Korean tried to pull Rob’s hand away, giving the marshal the opening he needed. Rob drove a fist into the gorilla’s throat. Because Rob was on his back, his punch didn’t have as much power as he would have liked, but it had enough. The thug fell back while grabbing at his throat, his eyes wide in surprise. Rob rolled to his feet, his back screaming in pain, but he was so pumped up on adrenaline he barely noticed. His opponent was struggling to his feet when Rob plowed into him again, picked the other man up by the waist with a roar of rage, and carried him three steps with his momentum before driving the goon into the orange juice case. The Korean again screamed in pain as they tumbled to the floor.
The fight was going out of the goon, but he tried to rally. Han’s man kicked Rob away, and the two men staggered to their feet, both hurting from the damage they’d inflicted on each other. They attacked again, the thug driving a meaty fist into the marshal’s stomach. Rob woofed out air as he bent with the blow and stumbled back. Rob took another blow to the ribs that further doubled him over, but Bae’s protector was still fueled by rage and fear, and he countered with an open hand strike to the chin of the goon that connected with stinging solidly.
The thug went down hard. Unlike in the movies, where the hero waits for the bad guy to get up, Rob went down after the man to press his advantage. The marshal drove a hard right into the gunman’s face, again hitting him with the meaty heel of his hand to deliver maximum damage with minimal risk of injuring himself, his enemy’s nose exploding with blood. The thug grabbed Rob’s face, his thumbs searching for his opponent’s eyes. The marshal bellowed in pain as he pulled the man’s hands away before he could destroy Rob’s sight. In Rob’s desperation to save his vision, he’d left himself open to attack, and the gorilla tried to pull the marshal into a choke.
Kicking and straining, desperate to prevent the gunman from locking his arm around his throat, Rob grimaced and bared his teeth. If the man managed to get his hold, he’d be able to choke Rob out and Bae would be defenseless. With a massive effort, Rob managed to get an arm inside, between the gunman’s thick arm and his throat, the two men’s arms and chests bulging with effort as they strained against each other in a desperate contest of strength. The men roared with desperate exertion as Rob strained with his entire being to force thug’s arm open, the smear of raw eggs making the marshal slippery and impossible to hold.
The gunman lost his hold and the two men tumbled, the thug’s legs going around Rob’s waist to lock them together. Rob slammed his head forward into the goon’s face, causing the thug to scream as blood gushed anew. Rob’s vision dimmed from the impact, but he barely felt blow. Both men knew it was kill or be killed. Rob grabbed the thug’s throat and tried to cut off his air.
The goon realized he was in trouble and grabbed Rob’s throat in return. The two men snarled at each other, their massive arms locked straight and trembling with effort, their muscles bulging in another violent contest of strength and endurance as they tried to choke the life from their opponent. Rob’s blood roared in his ears and his chest burned as his body consumed oxygen it couldn’t replace in their final desperate struggle. Rob was on top and had the advantage over the other man. Their teeth bared in effort and defiance, they glared at each other with unmitigated hate. The gunman was weakening, Rob could sense it, and the marshal only had to hold on a moment longer for victory.
The gunman released Rob’s throat and began trying to pry Rob’s fingers from his neck, allowing the marshal to suck in much needed and welcomed air. The gunman released his leg hold and bucked his hips, tumbling the men over so that Rob was now on the bottom. The thug tried to escape, but Rob locked his legs around his opponent, preventing the man’s escape as Rob held his choke, his arms straight, his chest and arms burning from his sustained effort. The thug fell across Rob’s chest, his hands gripping the marshal’s wrists and clawing at his fingers in a desperate fight for air as he thrust and squirmed, Rob grunting in pain as the goon crushed Rob’s cock and balls between them.
The goon began to go limp. Rob released his throat and rolled the gunman off him. The man gasped, sucking in a great lungful of air, his eyes wide in surprise and relief, but it was too late for him, far too late. Rob loomed over him like the angel of death and put everything he had left into a final blow to the thug’s throat, using a closed fist to crush the gunman’ trachea.
Han’s goon grabbed his neck, staring at Rob with wide, fearful eyes, his mouth working as he tried, and failed, to draw another breath past his destroyed throat.
“Die, you motherfucker,” Rob snarled as he knelt over him, his own chest heaving as he tried to recover his breath, watching as the life drain from his foe’s eyes.
…FOURTEENBae whimpered, unable to move as two shots rang out after Rob charged through the curtain. The two men were like bull elephants, bellowing and roaring in rage and pain as they thumped and crashed around in the store. She knew Rob was in a fight to the death, but she was frozen with her hand clamped over her mouth, incapable of helping, unable to move except to rock against the wall. After an eternity of screams and bellows of rage and pain, there was silence. She whimpered again. She wanted to look, she was desperate to see which of the two men had survived, but she was frozen in fear.
She didn’t know the name of the man tracking them, but she’d seen him at Kwang-hoon’s side. The man was huge, especially for a Korean. He might not be quite as tall as Rob, but he just as thickly muscled, and she knew Kwang-hoon often sent him to handle special errands. He was Kwang-hoon’s favorite, and rumor said he was a frequent volunteer for Kwang-hoon’s basement games.
“Bae,” Rob called, his voice scratchy and hoarse.
With a gasp of relief, she jumped to her feet and rushed out, slipping and almost falling on the slippery floor as Rob slowly crawled off the deathly still goon.
“Is he…?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Rob groaned he slowly moved off the dead man. She threw herself to the floor and into his arms to hold him tight. “We have to go,” he growled as he wrapped her in his embrace.
He began struggling to his feet and she got under his left arm to help him up. He was covered in welts, blood, cuts, and God only knew what else. His shirt was torn, he was sticky and slimy in equal measures, and he was hunched over, but he was still the sexiest man on the planet. He picked up his weapon with an almost silent groan, checked it, and slowly slid it into his holster.
“We have to get out of here,” he rumbled, his voice even more scratchy and hoarse than only moments before.
She helped him to the door. “Which way?”
“Right.”
That seemed backwards to her, but she followed his directions. A crowd had gathered outside. They watched, pointed, and held up phones, but nobody offered to help. Fuck ’em. I’ll do it myself, she snarled to herself. They’d made it half-block before she saw a group of eight men trotting toward them on the other side of the street.
“Over there!” someone called and the group charged across the street.
Rob was in no shape to defend himself, much less her. She’d never held a gun in her life, but she reached for Rob’s pistol. The men weren’t taking them without a fight. He must have felt her trying to pull his sidearm because his hand clamped down on hers before she could pull the pistol out of his holster.
“It’s okay. They’re marshals,” he rasped.
The men surrounded them, their faces hard and alert. “Cogburn! You okay?”
“Great,” he grumbled, his tone putting lie to his words.
“You Han?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“There’s a body in the store back there,” Rob said with a jerk of his head, his voice steadily getting weaker.
“Body? Dead?”
“Yeah.”
The man in charge pointed and a man broke away from the group and trotted to the store. “Let’s get you off the street.”
They made it another block before a car pulled to a stop and they were stuffed inside with two more marshals sitting in the front seat.
“Hernández?” Rob asked as he groaned his way into the car.
“Shot twice. They’ve taken her to the hospital to get checked out. She’s going to be sore as shit, but she’ll be okay.”
“We left our vests… somewhere,” Bae said.
“You know where?” the passenger asked as Rob stiffly shut the door.
She looked at Rob. He shook his head, saving what voice he had left. “I have no idea. Some clothing store,” she said.
The driver chuckled. “That’s going to come out of your pay, Rooster.”
Rob smiled wanly. “Not mine. Hernández gave them to us,” he said, his voice gravely.
The other marshal grinned. “Oh. In that case, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“What’s wrong with your voice?” she asked softly.
“Asshole tried to crush my throat. I’ll be okay,” he whispered.
They had no more problems. The ruined Dodge was still sitting where they’d abandoned it, and there was a blue tarp draped across a body in the road as police milled around. She leaned over and looked at the clock on dash. The entire affair, from when Lou arrived to pick them up until now had lasted less than a half-hour. It had felt like hours, if not years.
They pulled through the regular security checkpoint manned by the NYPD that surrounded the federal courthouses, the New York State Supreme court, and other municipal buildings, and pulled into the secured garage under the Moynihan Building. Two more marshals were waiting as they pulled to a stop at the elevator.
“Rooster, we need to get you some medical help,” one of the marshals said, taking Rob’s arm.
Rob shook his head as he pulled free. “Not yet. I want to see Martinelli first,” he whispered.
They stopped on the second floor and stepped off. The United States Marshal’s shield was on the wall. The offices were mostly empty, since it was Sunday, but a few marshals were there.
“This way. Martinelli is waiting,” the marshal escorting them said.
They stepped into a large conference room, the marshal closing the door behind them. An older man that nearly equally split the one-foot difference in height between Bae and Rob rose. “Ms. Han?”
She nodded. The man came around the end of the table and extended his hand. “Richard Martinelli, U.S. Attorney, Southern District, New York.” She shook his hand. He turned his attention to Rob. “You Cogburn?” Rob extended his hand, but she could tell he was still evaluating Martinelli as they shook. “Ms. Han, are you injured?”
“No, thanks to Marshal Cogburn.”
“Excellent work, Deputy Marshal.”
“Thank you, but this shouldn’t have happened.”
Martinelli looked at Rob oddly, probably wondering why he was whispering and hissing. “Agreed. I still think the mole is SDM Gwynn. He’s still–”
“You’re wrong,” Rob said softly.
“I understand you don’t want to believe it’s one of your own, but look at the facts. He’s–”
“I am looking at the facts. Ms. Han and I would be dead if it weren’t for SDM Gwynn. No word from him?” Rob asked, his voice surprisingly strong but much more ragged than normal. She could tell the effort pained him.
“None, and his phone has been turned off for the past two days so we can’t track him. That leads me to believe he’s taken his family and skipped town.”
“Or he’s dead,” Rob said, his voice back to his whispering hiss.
“That’s a possibility, but I think it’s unlikely.”
“Why?” Rob asked.
“Look at the facts. He assigned you to transport Ms. Han from California to New York. He knew your travel schedule. The L.A. Marshal’s office said word came from New York your flight had been changed. He also knew about your flight out of Phoenix, and he knew when you arrived in New York. It all fits.”
“You’re forgetting he intentionally gave me the name of two people, people I’d recognize, who weren’t marshals, in place of the two marshals he said he was sending. Why would he do that if he wasn’t trying to warn me? Everything was arranged. All he had to do was let it happen. Had he not changed anything, Ms. Han and I would have sat right there and let them come right to us.”
She felt sorry for Rob. Talking was clearly uncomfortable, if not painful.
“You’re talking about Hernández and Walpole?”
Rob nodded. “That’s right.”
Martinelli scratched his jaw. “I don’t have an answer for that. If what you’re saying is true, we still have someone passing information to Han from the Marshals.”
“Or you’re office. Wasn’t SDM Gwynn keeping you apprised? He said he was.”
Martinelli frowned. “Yeah, he was. Often he just spoke to my secretary. Shit!”
“I think you better assume Han still has a source of information.”
Martinelli nodded. “I’m going to put her under standard witsec protocols.”
Rob nodded.
“What’s that mean?” Bae asked.
“There will be at least two marshals with you at all times. We’re going to put you up in a location known only to the witsec teams. You’ll be safe there.”
She looked at Rob and he nodded again. “These women are experts. You’ll be safe with them.”
“What about Rob? I trust him.”
Both Rob and Martinelli shook their heads. “Can’t,” Rob said. “I’m not part of the witsec team.”
“But you could be?” she suggested.
“Even if he were, he wouldn’t be assigned to your personal security.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because it’s against policy to mix genders on protection detail.”
“He came to get me in L.A.”
“That was just transportation. I’m sorry, Ms. Han, but it’s out of the question.”
“Don’t worry,” Rob said softly. “If I were in your shoes, I’d want them instead of me. They’re trained for this.”
She thinned her lips in annoyance. She wanted Rob, and not entirely because he’d warmed her bed. She trusted him. “If you say so.”
“Trust me this one last time,” Rob said with a wan smile. She wanted him to hold her, but she didn’t want to jeopardize his job. Rob’s gaze left hers and focused on Martinelli. “Keep her safe,” he said, his voice once again strong. His tone was respectful, but there was clearly an implied warning as well.
“We will.” Martinelli motioned, and the Marshal at the door opened it and stepped inside. It was clear the meeting was over.
“Can Marshal Cogburn and I have a moment… alone?” Bae asked.
Martinelli glanced between them. “Sure,” he said before he stepped out and closed the door.
Rob reached into his pocket, pulled out a card holder, and removed a card before tucking it away again. He handed it to her. “When you go into witness security, they’ll take that from you,” he said with a nod at the card. “Memorize the number. If you ever need me, call that number. I’ll be there.”
She wanted to cry. “You will?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She extended her hand. He took it, but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t care that he was covered in dried slime, and she threw her arms around him. She didn’t kiss him, even though she wanted to, but she had to feel his embrace one last time. His arms closed softly around her. “Thank you. I’ll never forget you,” she whispered into his ear.
She could sense his smile. “Nor I, you.”
She stepped back from the hug and wiped at the tear that was threatening. She gathered herself. “Thank you, Deputy Marshal Cogburn, thank you for keeping me safe.”
“Just doing my job, Ms. Han.”
She pursed her lips. “You better go before I cry.”
He smiled at her softly. “Don’t do that. You’re safe now.”
She swallowed and nodded. She didn’t love him, but she was going to be sorry to see him leave. She wondered what they might have had under different circumstances. Rob might be leaving, but she still had the memories of their time together in the car, of his dedication to keeping her safe, of his making love to her. They were good memories, memories she’d cherish for a long, long time.
“You’re right. No tears,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he rasped as he opened the door.
He wasn’t moving very well, and she could tell he was hurting. Another marshal, a woman this time, talked to him a moment, took his arm, and escorted him away. Again the green monster reared its head and Bae had to shove it back down. She tucked his card into a pocket.
Martinelli stepped back into the room. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“No. Is Rob going to get some help?”
“Yes. He’s on his way to the hospital now to get looked over, and we’re making arrangements for your safety. Can you tell me what happened yesterday and today?”
She told him everything she knew, holding nothing back, while pumping Rob up as much as she could. She explained how Rob had figured out how Kwang-hoon had found them yesterday and what happened this morning.
He nodded. “Han has overreached this time. I’ll add killing a federal deputy marshal, assuming Cogburn is correct, to the list of things to charge him with.” He looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you think of Cogburn. Do you think he did his job?”
She glared at the little asshole. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Martinelli. The only reason I’m standing here for you to ask me that stupid question is because of Deputy Marshal Robert Cogburn. If you’re looking for a scapegoat for what happened, you better look somewhere else. If you try to lay this at Rob’s feet, I won’t give you shit, understand?”
“He was with you all the time?”
“Every minute of every day.”
“Even at night?”
Her glare intensified. “Every fucking night, sleeping in a chair with his feet against the door.”
He nodded. “Okay. To be honest, Rob Cogburn should be fired.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “Let me finish. He broke every rule in the book, and a few that weren’t even in there, and yet, somehow, against every odd, you’re standing here in front of me without a scratch on you. He should be fired, but he’ll probably get a commendation.” He smiled. “It doesn’t hurt he reduced Han’s ranks by three, either.
A woman marshal opened the door. “We’re ready.”
He nodded. “Thank you. She’ll be there in a moment.”
“What’s happening?” Bae asked.
“The marshals are going to transport you to our safe site where at least two marshals will be with you at all times. Do what they say. Their only job is to keep you safe. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you and I will go over what’s expected of you and what I’ll do for you in return. You’ll have to sign some paperwork, but it’s just a formality. We’ve done this hundreds of times. After that, we’ll begin your deposition.”
She nodded. Rob kept assuring her about how competent the witsec people were, but even standing here, surrounded by federal marshals, she missed the comfort and security of his presence. All the marshals in the world couldn’t make her feel as safe as Rob did.
“This way, Ms. Han,” he said, gesturing at the door.
A pair of female marshals took charge of her. Like Lou Hernández, the two women were toned, fit, and no nonsense, just like the two marshals who were protecting her in L.A. What she’d taken for arrogant bitches then, she now saw as professionalism. They escorted her to the garage and placed her in an SUV with windows so dark no one couldn’t see in, though she could easily see out.
They drove though Lower Manhattan, following no discernible route, before pulling into the garage of a nondescript high rise. Like Rob, one of the women took her arm and led her to the fifth floor, stopping before a door that looked like all the others. Bae wondered if all the rooms in the building, on the floor, or adjacent to this one contained people whose lives were in danger.
“Make yourself at home, Ms. Han. I’m Deputy Marshal Glennwood, this is Deputy Marshal Castle. It’s our job to keep you safe. Stay away from the windows, please, and obviously, don’t try to leave the apartment.”
Bae nodded. “I know the drill. If anyone comes to the door, I’m supposed to go to the bedroom.”
Glennwood nodded and smiled. “That’s right. The more you cooperate, the more pleasant for everyone.”
She smiled. “You have a first name? I’m Bo-bae. Friends call me Bae.”
Glennwood smiled in return. “Peggy. That’s Wonder Woman,” she said with a grinning glance at Castle.
Castle rolled her eyes. “Diana.”
Bae licked her lips. “I hate to be a pain in the ass, but can we eat early? I missed lunch.”
Peggy grinned. “We heard. Did Rooster really kill a guy with his bare hands?”
“Which time?”
The two marshals glanced at each other. “Which time? How many times did he do it?”
Bae grinned, enjoying herself. “Only once that I’m sure of. I don’t know for sure he actually killed the first guy, that fake marshal guy in L.A. He may have only beaten the shit out of him before he threw him out of the car.”
“But he actually killed a guy today?”
“Three, actually. Two of them he shot. The fight I didn’t actually see, but I heard it.”
“And he saved you from a bomb on a plane?”
Bae nodded. It was like who had the best kissing story when she was a kid at summer camp. “Kind of. There was no bomb on the plane. It was just a ploy to get us out in the open. Don’t forget the tornado.”
“Tornado?” Diana asked. “Where?”
“Knoxville, Tennessee. I don’t know if it was actually a tornado, but the next morning a tree was on the roof of the motel and a car.”
“You’re shitting me!”
Bae held up her hand. “I swear. Ask Rob yourself if you don’t believe me. That was kind of scary.”
“Jesus. And he drove you all the way from California?”
“Yeah. From L.A. to here. All three thousand miles, or whatever it is.”
Peggy and Diana glanced at each other. “What was that like?” Diana asked.
Peggy nodded. “Yeah. I’d let him protect my ass at night.”
Bae snickered. If only she could tell them. “I think he’s gay.”
“Bullshit!” Peggy spat without hesitation.
“Yeah. All he wanted to do was talk about interior decorating, the latest fashion trends, you know, stuff like that.”
The two marshals looked at each other before they looked back at her. They weren’t buying it for a second. “Yeah, right,” Diana finally drawled out.
“Okay. Honestly, he slept in a chair with his feet against the door every night.”
Bae could tell they weren’t sure they believed that either, but that was as much as they were going to get out of her. She’d keep his secret. They were her private memories and she’d guard them jealousy.
“So, you and he didn’t…?” Peggy asked.
Bae shook her head. “No. Even when there were two beds, he stayed by the door. He was very dedicated to his duty.”
“You’re a better woman than I am, then,” Peggy purred. “I’d have jumped his ass the first night, even if we had to do it in the chair, and every night after that.”
The green monster tried to peek out of its box and Bae slammed the lid shut. “You and he have never…?” she asked. If Peggy could ask Bae, Bae decided she could ask the question in return.
“No. No office romances, dammit. The Marshal frowns on it.”
Diana nodded in agreement. “I can understand that. It’s not a good idea, but for him, I might make an exception.”
Bae couldn’t help but smile. That probably meant Lou and Rob weren’t involved either. She nailed the lid shut on the little green bastard. Bae didn’t have to worry about any of these women taking what she wanted.
Like Rob, Peggy and Diana were personable and polite. Bae supposed the entire Marshal Service was like that if she’d given them the chance. They had an early dinner of perogies, Peggy going for food while Diana kept Bae company.
The Marshal’s worked eight hours shifts. Peggy and Diana left at five, and Deputy Marshals Teegan Posey and Gianna Abbot took over, bringing sleepwear and a change of clothes for morning. The bathroom was stocked with toothpaste and other essentials, and Bae wasted no time getting out of her stained and dirty clothes.
Like Peggy and Diana, Teegan and Gianna wanted to hear all about this afternoon and the trip across country. Lou and Rob were heroes of the hour, and Gianna told Bae they’d both been released from the hospital. Both marshals going to be sore for a few days, but they’d otherwise been given a clean bill of health.
After Bae regaled the women with tales of Rob’s gallantry, she retired to the bedroom. She was tired, and if she were honest with herself, a little lonely. She’d become accustomed to having Rob around, and she missed him.
She pulled Rob’s card from her pocket, holding it between her fingers as she stared at it, repeating the number over and over again to etch it into her memory. She closed her eyes and repeated the number back before checking to see if she had it correct. She put the card aside and picked it up again several minutes later to see if she still remembered the number. The marshals could take the card, but they couldn’t take her memory. She worked on the number off and on until bedtime, and she’d keep working on it until they took the card from her.
When Bae began to get drowsy, she tucked the card under her pillow and smiled. Once this was all over, she was calling United States Deputy Marshall Robert Michael Cogburn. He’d given her his card and said if she ever needed him, to call and he’d be there. There was absolutely no doubt she was going to need him.
…FIFTEENRob limped to his desk Monday morning. His back hurt so fucking much he could barely move. He ached everywhere, and what didn’t ache was stiff, but his back was the worst of it. Nothing was broken, but he felt like he’d gone fifteen rounds with the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla… and lost. His throat still hurt like he had the worst case of strep throat imaginable, but least his voice was starting to come back, though it certainly wasn’t back to normal yet.
“You look like shit, Cogburn,” Lou said as she stopped at his desk, two cups of coffee in her hands.
He smiled up at her, taking the offered cup. A nasty looking bruise was peeking out from under her shirt. “You’re not exactly untarnished yourself, Hernández,” he replied, his voice gravelly.
She scowled and touched her chest gently. “Yeah. A couple of gunshots to the chest will do that to you. The fucker shot me right in the tit the first time.”
He grimaced in sympathy. “I’m sure Steven will be happy to comfort you.” Her face clouded. “What?”
“I guess you didn’t hear.” He shook his head and her face darkened more. “Tuesday I was going to surprise him for lunch and caught him in the elevator playing grab-ass with some bimbo in his office. I didn’t actually see them doing anything, but I knew they’d stopped whatever it was right before the doors opened. He swore they weren’t doing anything, but I could tell he was lying his ass off.”
“Jesus, Lou, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. He and I are taking some time. It’s okay.”
Lou couldn’t seem to catch a break. She might be a badass, but she didn’t deserve to be shit on by all the men in her life. She and Rob were good friends, and he kind of felt sorry for her. She attracted men like moths to a flame, and her latest, Steve, was a prosecutor in the District Attorney’s office. Rob had met the man only once, but he hadn’t thought much of him. He’d kept his mouth shut because it was none of his business, but now he wished he’d said something to her.
“No, it’s not,” Rob said just as his phone rang. “This proves that Steve is even stupider than I thought.” He glanced at the number and a chill passed through him. “It’s the Marshal.” He picked up the handset. “Cogburn.”
“I need to see you in my office.”
“Yes sir. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone. “Time to go face the music,” he said as he rose, his slow stiffness and his grimace declaring his discomfort for all to see.
“Hey! You did good with Han. Don’t let anyone tell you that you didn’t, okay?”
“Thanks, Lou, I appreciate that. Here’s hoping Marshal Graves sees it the same way.”
He limped down to the marshal’s office. “He’s expecting you,” Jenny said while nodding at his door.
“Close the door,” the Marshal rumbled as Rob entered the large, wood paneled office.
Marshal Graves was almost sixty and had been a Southern District, New York, marshal his entire career. He’d softened with age, and was more of a politician than a cop now, but he still had the keen instincts of a smart, decorated marshal. He didn’t offer Rob a chair, so he didn’t sit. Rob also didn’t come to attention because he couldn’t.
“Seems you and SDM Gwynn were busy,” the Marshal said as he propped his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you really expect I wouldn’t find out?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir.”
“You’re little cross-country trip with the star witness for the Han Kwang-hoon investigation.”
“I reported in daily to SDM Gwynn.”
“Yes, I’m sure you did. Funny how that little bit of information never made it to my desk. You put me in a very awkward position, Deputy Marshal.”
“I’m sorry, sir. That wasn’t my intention.”
The Marshal stared at Rob for a long moment. “Since SDM Gwynn isn’t here to submit his report, I expect a full accounting on my desk by three o’clock this afternoon. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Rob turned and slowly made his way back to his desk. Everyone was watching as he sat down, probably waiting to see if he started cleaning out his desk. After slowly settling into his chair, he touched the keyboard to wake up his computer.
“Well?” Michelle asked as she sat down in the single guest chair beside Rob’s desk.
Michelle Walpole was the other side of the Hernández and Walpole team. Where Lou was big and bold, Michelle was slimmer and quieter with a girl next door cuteness and blue eyes that could steal a man’s heart. She was an expert marksman with both pistol and rifle and was able to outshoot any of the other deputies, Rob included. She wasn’t as strong as the men, or some of the bigger women, but she had cat like speed and reflexes, and more than one asshole had underestimated her because of her slim build only to wake up with his balls in his mouth.
“I have to submit my report.”
She glanced in the general direction of the Marshal’s office. “If you get fired over this, that’ll suck.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it would.”
“Han has been singing your praises to anyone who will listen. If even half the shit she said you did is true, they should be pinning a commendation on you.”
“I also broke the rules. I disobeyed a direct order from my supervisor, I failed to follow proper protocols, I was alone with a female witness, I–”
Michelle leaned in closer to prop an elbow on Rob’s desk. “That’s all bullshit! Any of us would have done the same. She said you were sitting against the door every night. It’s not like you did the wild thing with her.”
He shrugged, keeping his thoughts to himself. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“Sometimes you have to break the rules. The entire office is hella impressed with what you did. We’re behind you one hundred percent. If they fire you over this, they’re going to have a revolt on their hands.”
He chuckled, wincing at the twinge of pain it caused. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
She patted him on the arm. “Lou and I will go into rotation on her protection detail as soon as Lou has a few days to recover. Anything you want me to tell her?”
There were a lot of things he wanted to tell Bae, but not through a messenger. “No. That’s okay. I’m just glad she’s in your and Lou’s capable hands.”
Michelle patted him arm again as she smiled. “You got her here. We’ll take good care of her.”
He nodded and smiled as Michelle rose.
Rob went to work on his report. It was hard for him to get anything done for all the well-wishers stopping by to offer their support. He loved what he did, and didn’t want to lose his job, but if he did, he could at least walk out with his head high knowing all his fellow marshals supported his actions.
He told the story straight and left nothing out. Well, almost nothing. Michelle had given him a clue to the version of the story Bae was telling. He knew it was wrong, but in his report, he slept in a chair by the door each night and made no mention of their other, more intimate, activities.
He pounded away on the report for most of day. It was a long report, and when he finished, he hovered the mouse over the submit button. If he clicked submit with the report as written, he’d be committing a felony. He swallowed hard, trying to decide if he wanted to do that. He’d be compounding a bad decision with a crime.
He stared at the screen, unmoving, his guts coiling and uncoiling as the angel on his right shoulder duked it out with the devil on his left. He hadn’t hurt anyone, he hadn’t violated any oath, and he hadn’t profited from what happened. Bae made it clear she’d welcomed their intimacy, and she was lying to protect him, but that still didn’t make it right. Falsifying the details of a case was wrong and illegal.
Except it wasn’t really a case, was it? Neither Bae nor Rob was under investigation. What they’d done hurt no one, but if he lied and were caught, it would bring into question every other statement he’d never made or would make. If that happened, it would be a career ender.
“Hey,” Lou said, sliding into the chair beside Rob. “Working on your report for the Old Man?”
“Yeah.”
She glanced at the screen. “Long report.”
“Yeah. A lot happened.”
“I can guess.” She leaned back in the chair, squirming a little in discomfort. “It must have been hard, trying to do it all yourself, not knowing who you could trust.”
She was fishing for something. He glanced at her and she held his gaze, her face impassive and giving nothing away. “It wasn’t easy, no.”
She nodded. “In environments like that, things can happen, things that maybe shouldn’t have. Decisions get made in the heat of the moment that you later regret.”
He felt sick. She knew. Somehow, Lou knew. “Yeah,” he agreed softly.
“Did you make any decisions you really, truly, regret?”
“What are you asking?” he asked, but he already knew.
“What I’m saying, my dear Rooster, is you need to think about what you’re doing before you ruin a good thing.”
He glanced around. His desk was one of many in the large open room the deputies shared, but nobody was nearby, so they had a little privacy. “How’d you know?” he asked softly.
Her smile was soft. “Come on, Rooster, it’s me. I saw how you two looked at each other when you put the vest on her. There was no hesitancy, no shyness. You didn’t even ask permission. You’d obviously gotten comfortable touching her, and she was comfortable being touched by you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Do about it?”
She nodded at his computer. “Did you mention it in your report?”
He burned in shame. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because… I don’t know.”
“You do know. You didn’t because you know, deep down inside, what you did wasn’t wrong. It might be against some bureaucratic rule, but it wasn’t wrong. I don’t want you to throw away your career for nothing, and I don’t want you eating yourself alive if you don’t.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. “What would you do, if you were in my shoes?”
She smiled. “You damn well know what I’d do.”
He shook my head. “No. You’re a good cop. I need to hear it.”
“So are you.” She paused, her eyes softening. “If I were in your shoes, I’d tell it straight, and I wouldn’t mention it, one way or the other. Then I’d go home, fix myself a stiff drink, and make peace with the decision. I saw how Han looked at you. You hurt nobody… nobody.”
“You know what happens if I lie on my official report.”
“Are you lying? Did you sleep in a chair against the door?”
“Yes, but–”
“Did you say that you did so each night?”
“Well, no, but–”
“Did you specifically mention anything at all about your nightly sleeping arrangements?”
“No, but–”
“Did you mention where you stopped for meals, what you ate, anything like that?”
“No, but that–”
“So, your report isn’t complete in every detail. Nobody expects that, and nobody wants that, because none of that little stuff matters.”
“Well, yes, but–” he said, still trying to get a word in edgewise.
“All that goes into the official report are the important details,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “People makes certain assumptions from reports all the time. Nobody cares where you ate, when you went to the bathroom, where you slept, any of that shit, if it doesn’t have any bearing on what happened. They assume if it isn’t mentioned, it isn’t important. What you and Han did had no bearing on what happened, it isn’t important, so if some of people’s assumptions are incorrect, that’s not your fault, and it changes nothing.”
He frowned. “That’s semantics and hairsplitting, and you know it.”
“Is it?” she asked. “How does where you slept have any bearing on anything?”
“I knowingly violated department policy.”
“Yes you did. Bo-bae is getting the story out. You disobeyed a direct order by your superior, and by doing so, she is likely still alive because of it.” She held his gaze for a long moment. “That, in my mind, is the only thing you have to answer for.” She held his gaze for another long moment. “You’re a good Marshal. The service needs you.” She nodded and rose without another word.
He turned back to the screen. The pointer still hovered over the submit button. He pursed his lips, made his decision, and clicked the mouse. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d made a decision, he just hoped it was the right one.
Rob was preparing to go home and fix that stiff drink Lou suggested when Marshal Graves called. He took a deep breath to fortify himself and lifted the handset. “Cogburn.”
“I’ve reviewed your report. I need to see you in my office. Now.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Jenny looked at Rob as he entered and nodded her head at the marshal’s door. He entered the office and shut the door. “You asked to see me.”
“Your report, it’s complete?” the Marshal asked without preamble, not looking up as he shuffled papers on his desk.
Rob kept his face carefully neutral. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes sir.”
“Do you know how many departmental violations there are in that report, Deputy Marshal?”
“Several.”
Graves paused his paper shuffling to gaze at Rob. “More than several.”
“I stand by my decisions, Marshal. I made them with the best of intentions.”
“I see. You knowingly violated a direct order from your superior. Not once, but multiple times. Perhaps I can forgive the last one, but your refusal to stop in Albuquerque, and your continued refusal to inform SDM Gwynn of your location brings your judgement into serious question. You contend those decisions were made in the best interest of Ms. Han?” the Marshal asked, his voice flat and emotionless.
A heavy weight settled in Rob’s stomach. “Yes sir.”
Marshal Graves’ expression hardened. “You’re a good deputy, but I cannot overlook your willful disregard of direct orders from your superior. I have no choice but to enter a reprimand into your permanent file. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“No sir.”
“Very well.” The Marshal looked down and began straightening the files on his desk again. “Due to the increasing bureaucracy and inefficiencies of the Marshal Service, it’s likely that reprimand will become misplaced before it’s entered into your file. Dismissed.”
Rob blinked for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. “Yes, sir.” He turned for the door.
“And Deputy…” the Marshal said. Rob stopped and turned to face the man. Graves wasn’t smiling. “Take a couple of days off to heal. I need you back at full strength as soon as possible. There’s a lot of work to be done on this Han investigation.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Rob arrived back in the Deputy room, everyone was watching him with questioning eyes. He didn’t know what to say and finally decided to go with the truth. He’d told enough lies for one day.
“He didn’t fire me, but I’ve officially been reprimanded for willfully disobeying SDM Gwynn’s orders.” Everyone’s face hardened. “The upside is, and I quote, ‘Due to the increasing bureaucracy and inefficiencies of the Marshal Service, it is likely that the reprimand will be lost before it is placed in my file.'”
Everyone relaxed slightly and began to smile. Justice had been served. Rob had received a slap on the wrist so the Marshal could say Rob had been censured for not following orders, but his record would remain clean. It was a solution where everyone got something. The fact nobody asked about Bae and his sleeping arrangements while on the road was a bonus, and he was willing to let that sleeping dog lie. He caught Lou’s eye, and she smiled as she nodded almost imperceptibly. It was time to go, have that drink, and make peace with all this.
He made his way to his small studio apartment so close to the Bronx Zoo that when the wind was right, he could sometimes hear the lions roar. His apartment was tiny but comfortable, with wood floors and two big windows overlooking Crotona Park across the street. He only had three rooms, a single large room making up his living room, dining room, and bedroom, with a tiny galley style kitchen and an equally small bathroom comprising the other two. He didn’t need much space, plus it was convenient to shopping, the subway, entertainment, and Crotona Park where he did his running.
He entered and locked the door behind him, tossing his mail on the bar that separated his kitchen from the rest of his living space, and pulled down his little bit of home, a bottle of Allen’s Coffee Brandy. He poured a splash into a glass, added an even healthier splash of Jamaican Rum, a weak splash of Campari, and a dash of Angostura bitters. He stirred it and then strained it over ice. He stirred it again with a finger, carried his glass to his chair, and slowly sat, grimacing with discomfort as he squirmed to find a comfortable way to sit. He took a sip from the glass, his lip curling slightly as the liquid burned so good. A couple of these and he wouldn’t care if he was hurting.
He smiled and lifted his glass in a silent salute to Bae. He was hurting like hell now, but it’d been worth it. He took another sip of his drink as he wondered if he’d ever see her again. He’d given her his card so she could reach him, if she wanted to, once she was settled into her new life. He shouldn’t have done that. Encouraging her to contact him was against every rule in the witness security book, but he hoped she did. After what they’d been through together, what was a phone call? He normally spent his vacations in Maine, but he’d be willing to visit other locations if there was a reason to go there.
He leaned his head back into his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He’d like to see her again, but if she never called, he still had the memories. He took another sip of his drink, his smile spreading with the memories of their time together.