Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced AllianceOut for JusticeNo Place to Run Read online

  Connor ended the call before she had a chance to burst out laughing. Or protest.

  Wondering why she hadn’t become a teacher like her mother had suggested, Josie quickly called Special Agent in Charge Joseph Sherwood and explained what Connor had told her. “I’d like to go in alone and undercover for now, sir.”

  After a long silence, the older man said, “You can go in alone, but I’ll have a team on standby in case you get into trouble. We’ve worked too hard to bring Armond in to let anything go wrong now.”

  There was another slight pause and then he added, “Meantime, let me know if you need any backstopping. I’ll get the techs involved and I’ll work with the locals on the shooting.”

  “Yes, sir.” If he was willing to set up an undercover background for her, Sherwood must understand the magnitude of this mission. She might be in this for days, possibly weeks.

  She’d go out to the Armond compound and get Armond and Connor to safety. That is, if someone else didn’t beat her to the place and do harm to both of them.

  TWO

  Josie checked her rearview mirror several times to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Normal Saturday-night traffic streamed along the interstate.

  She bumped up her speed, her pulse zooming along with the vehicle’s high speed. Why was she so worried anyway? Connor could handle himself. He knew all the tricks of survival.

  But…Connor Randall was almost legendary around the bureau, so maybe Armond considered him more valuable alive than dead right now. If anyone could charm a snake, it’d be Connor Randall. She didn’t want to think about how he could turn a woman’s head, too.

  She hadn’t decided if the debonair Mr. Randall had finally mended his ways or if he was just working on one last big con. They’d had several conversations, or as Connor liked to call them—interrogations. She asked questions, and he either answered with a cool disregard or said nothing at all. She’d pulled him in earlier today to get a better handle on tonight’s mission, and the man had waltzed in wearing a custom-made tuxedo and a custom-made smile.

  Get that out of your head, she told herself. So he was handsome and debonair and…still a criminal in her mind.

  She only wanted to get Armond and him out alive and make sure Armond lived up to his side of this bargain. Her career needed a serious boost. If the Mafia lord was running scared, they’d never get the truth out of him.

  Josie made a few turns to check any tails. She got off an exit ramp and looped back around to where she’d started, zooming as fast as she could.

  There! She spotted another car behind her, doing the same loop. This time, she stayed on the interstate but zigzagged between other vehicles and took a different exit. When she felt sure she wasn’t being followed, she exited again and took the back roads that followed the Mississippi River.

  No other cars were in sight, so she breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever had been behind her was gone now.

  Or maybe they were just waiting.

  Connor might be right after all. Maybe this went deeper than just someone trying to take down Armond. Maybe someone was also after Connor. The list could be long and far-reaching. Which meant they might be watching her, too.

  *

  Located about forty-five minutes north of New Orleans and set back off a narrow country road near the Mississippi River, the Armond estate consisted of a stunning antebellum house that was well over one hundred and fifty years old and set in the middle of an acreage that rivaled Versailles.

  Stately columns surrounded the big stucco house. Massive mushrooming live oaks that had been planted over three hundred years ago lined the long drive leading to the double front doors. A high black iron fence and electronic gate surrounded the whole thing, while armed guards and nasty watchdogs patrolled the perimeters.

  Connor paced out on the downstairs gallery, walking from column to column while he waited for Josie Gilbert to arrive. A guard stood near the big double doors, making sure Connor didn’t venture too far. Every now and then Connor would touch a hand to the still-warm eggshell-white patina of the old stucco. This house had good bones and an aged, distinguished history. When he’d first seen what was now called Armond Gardens, Connor thought this was exactly the kind of place he’d always dreamed of owning. But it hadn’t taken him long to realize a mansion didn’t make a home. A lot of criminal activities and nefarious comings and goings went on behind this tranquil, elegant facade. He didn’t want to live here now. But he sure didn’t want to die here, either. Not tonight.

  Now he had a reason to live. He hoped to give his sister, Deidre, the kind of home she deserved even if he never lived there with her. His sister, just a few years younger than his thirty-two years, deserved a home of her own, and she deserved some peace of mind. He’d changed his ways for that purpose and he intended to see it through to prove to Deidre that he’d turned back toward the Lord.

  His cell buzzed.

  It was Armond, huddled up in the back of the house. “What is the holdup?”

  “She’s on her way,” Connor said and then ended the call.

  The man was seriously agitated, to the point of calling Connor himself rather than ordering a guard to carry a message. Someone had just murdered his young girlfriend, and he knew he might be next. Plus, he knew if his wife returned from New York and heard this, she’d leave him. Mrs. Armond had warned her philandering husband several times but Louis Armond thought he could get away with everything from murder to infidelity. Another great example of the criminal mind.

  Somehow, he now expected—no, demanded—Connor to fix this. Kind of ironic, considering Connor had a target on his back that had been put there because he’d been associating with Louis Armond. Was this payback time, or had Louis understood that Connor had witnessed part of the shooting and might be willing to tell all? Including the fact that Armond could have possibly been the shooter or hired the shooter. If Armond hadn’t killed the woman, then who had? Connor wondered. And why had Armond been all alone on the street, without any of his guards?

  Armond could have killed Connor several times over, tonight or any other night. They were out here away from the city in a fortress full of big-muscled bodyguards and a state-of-the-art security system. He’d be dead and buried in the river by now if Armond wanted him that way. The man knew Connor had worked with the FBI to take down Frederick Cordello for attempted art theft and murder. When Connor had shot Cordello to protect Princess Lara Kincade, Armond had witnessed the whole thing, but Connor had smoothed that one over by explaining the FBI had forced him to cooperate.

  Which happened to be the truth.

  That persuasive conversation, and Connor delivering on his promise to Armond, had saved Connor. For now. He’d found the famous Benoit paintings that technically and legitimately belonged to Armond. Armond already knew Connor had no love for the FBI. If he played the hand he’d been given, Connor might be able to stay alive long enough to be free from both Armond and the FBI.

  Finally.

  Or he could be dead before morning.

  “But you’ve got lawyers, people,” Connor had reminded the man after Armond had jumped into his car and they’d hurried out of New Orleans. “I just happened to come along at the wrong time. I saw you standing there and I reacted.”

  “You were in the right place,” Armond replied, a hint of fear coloring his nervous appreciation. “We have to keep this tight. No one can know I was associated with that poor girl. I can’t call the lawyers or anyone else. Too dangerous.” Then he’d turned in the seat, waving the weapon he still held. “You owe me, remember?”

  So now Connor was being held as a “guest” in the Armond fortress. He’d wanted to get closer to the criminal, but not this way. Armond could turn trigger-happy and shoot him on the spot.

  To keep building up to the rapport they’d once had, Connor asked the Mafia boss why he’d thought it a good idea to bring his girlfriend to the opera while his wife was out of town.

  “She wasn’t suppos
ed to be there,” Armond retorted. “I told her never to acknowledge me in public. But she showed up, scared and shouting at me to do something.”

  Armond thought he’d been set up by someone who wanted him dead. Someone who’d killed the girl just to show him they were serious. “I’ll be next. That’s how this works.” He’d included Connor in his fears. “They know you were my close associate, so now they might know I’m in cahoots with the feds.”

  The scared bully had centered on Connor the way a newborn lamb might center on the human who’d fed him a bottle. Attachments such as this could only lead to more trouble. Connor was in so deep now, he wondered how he’d ever get out of this. But he could use this latest development to his advantage, at least.

  Armond came out the door, sweating and ruddy-faced, surrounded by armed guards. “This woman—are you sure she can take care of this?”

  Armond didn’t know Josie. Up until a couple of weeks ago, Connor’s handler had been a by-the-book veteran of the FBI. But John Burgess had abruptly decided to retire, and just like that, Josie Gilbert had walked into Connor’s already-complicated life. That could work in their favor now, however. Armond technically didn’t have any choice. He had to trust Josie, and he didn’t have a clue that she was FBI.

  “Yes,” Connor replied, trying to piece things together, since he knew Josie would question him with a heavy-handed attitude. The newest FBI special agent to hit town did not approve of Connor’s methods. But they were stuck with each other until he could prove his merit and finally go free.

  Right now, he had to get his facts straight regarding this bizarre turn of events.

  The parking attendant had watched in surprise as Connor got back in his car and took off. He might have seen the whole thing, and by now the police and the FBI were probably swarming around the crime scene. The attendant could have given them Connor’s license-plate number and a description of his car, too, but Sherwood obviously would already know Connor had been on the scene. Since the FBI kept tabs on his whereabouts, he understood they’d see him as a suspect. He had to have the story straight. And he was hoping Special Agent Josie Gilbert would agree with him on that.

  “She’s good, Louis. She has experience in these matters.”

  Or at least he hoped she did. If Josie would think beyond her distaste at having to work with Connor, she’d realize they had Armond. The man would do anything to stay out of the limelight and keep this nasty business from his irritable wife, or he could decide he no longer wanted to talk.

  “Is she ever gonna get here?”

  A car pulled around the curve and waited at the gate. Since Armond had already told security to let her in the minute she arrived, the gate swung open.

  Connor’s heartbeat slid into fast gear, the way it always did when he was on a big case. Or maybe tonight it was the added thrill of working with Josie Gilbert. Could he help it if he had a secret crush on her? He’d have to put all of that aside while they tidied up things. Now he had a niggling doubt regarding the newest addition to the New Orleans bureau. There was the Dallas incident that no one wanted to discuss.

  “Go back inside, Mr. Armond,” he suggested. “I’ll update her and bring her to you.”

  Still dazed, Louis Armond nodded and hurried past two bodyguards into the big drawing room to the left of the central hallway. Connor nodded to one of the guards and shut the doors. He needed to prep Josie Gilbert.

  Now the fun part. Had she trusted Connor enough to come alone? He prayed she’d been wise enough to know they had Armond cornered and scared. He also prayed they could use this little dustup to their advantage. If so, he might be able to finally shed Louis Armond’s iron-tight grip and the halo of death that came with being in a forced alliance with a beautiful, determined female FBI agent.

  That would, however, depend on how this night’s work went, and whether he and Josie would live to see another day.

  THREE

  Josie checked her gun and got out of the unmarked car, then took in her surroundings. The big antebellum house stood stately and quiet in the moonlight. It was beautiful, but tonight it held a sinister aura of death and destruction.

  Nice digs, Mr. Armond. Sure that the original owners of this gracious old mansion would turn over in their graves at the sight of several armed guards with snarling dogs and three blacked-out luxury SUVs and the new name of Armond Gardens, she wondered exactly how much money it took to own such a showplace.

  And how much of that money had been ill-gotten?

  She ignored the shiver of unease that chased down her spine. She hadn’t seen anyone following her since she’d left the main road, so she needed to relax and get on with this. But she had a bad feeling, a kind of fluttering in her stomach that indicated this whole setup felt wrong. Shaking it off, she did one more visual and prepared to get on with her work.

  As she approached the wraparound porch, a man stepped out of the shadows, causing her to also wonder why she’d agreed to come out here to help someone she’d only met a few days ago. She was glad she’d reported her whereabouts back to the New Orleans bureau in spite of Connor telling her to keep quiet, and that she’d warned Sherwood that things might get dicey.

  “Bring him in, Gilbert. Nothing dicey about that.”

  Did he mean Louis Armond or Connor Randall? Sherwood didn’t care for the charming informant. But Joseph Sherwood didn’t seem to care for anyone around him, for that matter.

  “Sir, I can’t do that.” She explained on the way out what Connor had told her. “Armond refuses to let him leave. So he’s set me up to help with the situation. Alone. Armond doesn’t want the feds anywhere around this estate. Let me go in and see what I can find. Randall and I will figure out how to handle this, and I’ll try to keep you posted. But I need your permission to go dark if necessary.”

  Sherwood had reluctantly agreed. Now she had to show him she knew her stuff. Her boss already gave off an air of disdain whenever she spoke to him. Maybe he resented having to take on an agent who’d messed things up in her last assignment.

  Just one more reason for Josie to make this one work.

  Connor Randall met her at the low steps onto the brick-floored porch. Glancing toward the two-ton guard at the door, he pulled Josie aside. “You did come alone, right?”

  She wanted to say, “No, actually, I brought the whole New Orleans bureau with me.” But she was too intrigued and too hopeful that she could corner two rats at once. Tonight’s operation had her rattled. She was out here on her own, with no backup, making this up as she went. She wouldn’t admit that part of the shake-up inside her soul had to do with this man, who sure looked good in a tux.

  “I’m alone,” she replied. Then she lowered her voice. “But I did report in, since my SAC told me to bring you both back to town, so I can’t hold them off for too long. The news of a dead woman near the opera house has already hit the airwaves.”

  She didn’t need to explain that the FBI and the NOPD already had forensic teams on-site at the crime scene. The locals would take the lead, then turn things over to the FBI.

  Connor’s expression turned dark and hard to read. “Has Armond’s name come up?”

  “Not yet to the public. But I’m to get you both to a safe house immediately.”

  Connor’s surprised look changed to a resolved one. “And you managed to hold Sherwood off for a while?”

  “Yes, but he wasn’t happy. He wants to go by the book on this one so Armond won’t bolt.”

  “Any mention of a black sports car on the scene?”

  She shook her head. “Only a dark car. That’s the official word.” Tired of the interrogation, she said, “I need to be briefed, and don’t leave anything out.”

  “I’ll explain everything,” he said.

  “You’d better. I’m risking a lot, coming here on my own.”

  Too late, she realized she was also locked in. The high iron fences and the army of guards told the tale of illegal comings and goings. What if Armond refus
ed to let either of them leave? She’d read dossiers about torture tactics and worse, especially regarding agents who’d been caught. And she knew firsthand what could happen to informants who got caught. Putting those images out of her mind, Josie gathered her thoughts.

  “Armond might pretend to be ready to cooperate, but someone scared him silly tonight. He’s desperate and that can be dangerous.” The threat of death made people do desperate things.

  Connor cleared his throat and whispered close, “But we’ve got him right where we want him. He believes you’re here to help us. And…he’s kind of holding this over my head, if you get my drift.”

  “How did you get involved, anyway?” she asked while she did another visual of the well-lit gardens and the too-dark tree line. Even with guard dogs, someone with criminal intent could get in here. “He and you should have been inside, finishing up with what we hope is the information we’ve all been waiting for.”

  “I was on my way in when this happened. I’d just turned into the parking garage.” He glanced back at the double front doors. “I saw Armond standing there with his mistress. Which was so not like Armond. Then I saw the woman fall to the ground. I backed out of the garage and floored it to Armond. He was leaning over her in shock, a gun in his hand.”

  “You saw him shoot her?”

  “No. I saw him leaning over her with a gun. But when he looked around and glanced up to the rooftop above them, I figured a sniper had done it.”

  “So you stopped to chat?”

  “I stopped and called out to him to get in my car. His guards hurried to surround him, but he turned and came around my car and jumped inside. Told me to drive.”

  “Why did you take that chance?” she asked, wondering if he’d thought this through. “You should have called me right away.”

  “He seemed especially grateful to have a getaway car, and his guards scattered, so I had to do something. Then he held a gun to my head,” Connor replied. He shrugged as if this whole affair was nothing much. “Two thoughts entered my mind. One, he wanted me to get him out of there, and two, he was so erratic, he might decide to shoot me if I didn’t do his bidding.”