Delta Force Die Hard Page 14

  “Are you biting your nails over this?” Hailey grabbed his wrist and folded both of her hands around his.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to send me in for a manicure before the big event.” He splayed his free hand in front of him. “Delta Force don’t do manicures.”

  “I prefer your rugged hands to a pair of soft, polished ones.”

  “Good.”

  “Whatever got Ayala, it spooked her.”

  “Shh.” Joe tipped his head toward the double doors as the subject of their conversation walked into the waiting room.

  Hailey tilted her head at him. “I don’t know why you want to keep her in the dark about everything.”

  “I don’t know why, either. Habit.” But the words fell on deaf ears as Hailey launched herself toward her friend.

  Joe stayed put, rising from his chair when the women approached. He pasted on a concerned expression. “All ready?”

  “So ready to get out of here.” Ayala hooked her hand through Hailey’s arm. “It totally slipped my mind, but an Agent Porter from the FBI visited me right before you showed up.”

  Hailey whipped her head around. “He did? I met with him this morning about the shooting and told him about you. That was fast. What did he say? He didn’t tell you about the shooting?”

  “He didn’t mention it, and he didn’t have much to say about anything else once he saw my toxicology report. There was nothing in my system except alcohol.”

  Joe allowed the women to exit before him, and Hailey pulled out her car keys and punched the remote. The Jag beeped once.

  Joe opened the door for Ayala, and as she slid into the back seat, he asked, “If you saw Porter before, didn’t he tell you about the sniper shooting at Hailey?”

  “Oddly enough, he did not.” She dipped her head to reach for her seat belt, and her long hair hung like a curtain over the side of her face.

  “Did he tell you why he was visiting you and how he knew you were at the hospital?”

  Ayala snapped the seat belt in place. “He said Hailey told him about my incident last night.”

  Joe shut the back passenger door and climbed into the front. “Agent Porter never mentioned the shooting to Ayala. Isn’t that odd?”

  “You said it yourself.” Hailey cranked on the engine. “Fibbies play it close to the vest.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Or maybe you were talking about Delta Force.” Hailey peeled out of the parking lot. “Are you hungry, Ayala?”

  “Ugh, the thought of food literally turns my stomach right now. I’ll take some tea when we get back to your place, though...and I’ll get it myself. You two should head over to Mission Hope. Maybe you can put a stop to all this once you check out that locker.”

  “We can only hope.”

  When they arrived at the house, Hailey pulled the car into the driveway. She turned to Joe. “You can wait here. I’ll see Ayala in, show her around the kitchen and head right back down.”

  Joe clicked open his door. “I need the exercise.”

  Hailey caught her breath, realizing he still wanted to keep tabs on her. “Sure you do.”

  Joe kept Hailey and Ayala in front of him as they climbed the stairs. As always, he’d kept watch to make sure they hadn’t been followed, even though the bad guys knew exactly where Hailey lived, and now he had to look out for snipers in the treetops.

  Safely inside, Hailey patted the couch that had served as Joe’s bed last night. “Have a seat. I’ll make you some tea.”

  “Don’t be silly. I can walk into the kitchen and make a cup of tea.”

  “Let me at least get it ready for you.” Hailey charged into the kitchen as if she were ready to turn out a full-course meal instead of boiling some water.

  Joe took up a station near the front window. “Should we check that security footage, Hailey?”

  “We can do it when we get back. Do you want some water or anything before we head out again?”

  “Just a glass of water, please.”

  Hailey held a glass to the ice maker on the outside of the fridge and filled it with water. She took a few steps out of the kitchen when the teakettle blew.

  Ayala pushed up from the couch and sauntered into the kitchen, taking the glass from Hailey. She brought it to Joe and joined him at the window. “See anything interesting out there?”

  “Thanks.” He took the glass from her. “Not much. Not high enough to see the bay, either.”

  Hailey called from the kitchen, “Milk?”

  “Yes, please.” Ayala rolled her eyes at Joe. “Really, I can make my own tea.”

  Hailey ignored her and continued banging around the kitchen. “What are you going to do the rest of the afternoon? You should take a nap. Bed’s all ready for you.”

  “Maybe.”

  Joe took a gulp of water. “And your laptop is still under the bed.”

  Ayala jerked her head around so fast, Joe thought she saw something out the window.

  “Did you see something?”

  “I—I thought maybe something by the bench in that little park.” As she pointed out the window, the red stone on her ring caught the light, flashing a beam on her face not unlike the one centered on Hailey’s forehead last night.

  Joe cupped his hand over his eyes as he peered through the window. “I don’t see anything. Hailey’s house has an alarm system. Just stay away from the windows and you should be safe enough here.”

  “Tea time.” Hailey carried a steaming mug into the living room. “I left a few more tea bags on the counter for you, the kettle’s on the stove and milk is in the fridge if you want more.”

  “Thank you so much. I’ll be fine here—go.”

  Hailey swept Marten’s key from the counter and grabbed her purse. As she hoisted her bag over her shoulder, she turned at the door. “Set the alarm when you get the chance—5806.”

  Ayala waved.

  When they stepped onto the porch and Hailey had shut and locked the dead bolt, Joe poked her in the side. “Now you have to change that code as soon as you get home.”

  “I had to give it to her. How else was she going to arm it?”

  “Just sayin’. Reset it.”

  Hailey saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “I’m not in the navy.” He poked her again. “Are we taking your car?”

  “There’s parking around the back, and I know Patrick’s car, so I can block him in if I have to.”

  “There you go with your friends in high places again.”

  As they got in the car, Joe glanced up at the window, partially obscured by the bushes in the front garden. The drapes stirred and then dropped into place. “Looks like Ayala didn’t waste any time setting the alarm.”

  Hailey said, “Good. She seemed nervous.”

  “She thought she saw something in the park.” Joe clicked his seat belt.

  “Did she?”

  “It was her imagination. There was nothing there.”

  Hailey nodded. “Yeah, nervous.”

  Hailey navigated like a pro through the busy San Francisco streets, driving past Union Square, where the Christmas tree still towered above shoppers.

  Two blocks later the shoppers had thinned out, replaced by shopping carts pushed by raggedy men and women looking to score a quick buck or two.

  “How often do you come down here?”

  “Not enough. My assistant, Gretchen, delivers care packages from the foundation occasionally.” She hit the steering wheel. “Shoot. We forgot to bring the food and toiletries.”

  “I’ll write a check instead. I’m sure there are a fair number of vets out on the streets here. Let me feel the glow of a good deed for a change.”

  “I have a feeling you do plenty of good deeds.” She wheeled around the back of a gray stucco building sporting a neon sig
n announcing the Mission Hope, only the P and the E had burned out at the end.

  Joe nudged her and pointed at the sign. “I’m sure that’s not what Patrick wants to advertise.”

  Hailey giggled. “It could be worse if the I, O and N on the end of mission were also burned out.”

  She parked behind a black Prius with a Coexist bumper sticker.

  “Let me guess.” Joe leveled a finger at the car. “That’s Patrick’s.”

  “That’s why I’m parking here.”

  Joe kept a tight hold on Hailey’s arm with one hand and a tight hold on the barrel of his gun with the other as they walked through an alley leading to the back door of the shelter.

  A few homeless guys loitering with cigarettes dangling from their lips held out their hands. Joe brushed past them.

  When they stepped inside, a cook hovering over a boiling pot called a welcome without looking up. “Dinner doesn’t start for another few hours and you can’t start lining up for another hour—around the front.”

  “Actually, we’re here to see Patrick.”

  The cook glanced up from his work. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, Patrick’s out in the van rounding up some poor souls for dinner.”

  “That’s okay. Are the lockers still in the front room, on the other side of the dining hall?”

  “They are.” He put his spoon down and swiped a towel across his forehead. “You lookin’ for something in particular?”

  Hailey held up the key and dangled it in the light. “Just checking on my friend’s locker.”

  “Okay, go ahead, then. What was your name again?”

  “It’s Hailey. Hailey Duvall.”

  “Ah, why didn’t you say so? I know the name, and now I know the beautiful face behind all that generous giving.”

  “This place couldn’t run without people like you.” She closed her hand around the key and backed out of the kitchen.

  She led the way past a dining area with rows of empty picnic tables lined up. “The locker room is on the other side of this.”

  A couple of transients looked up from their card game as Hailey and Joe walked by a common room.

  Hailey entered another room where banks of metal lockers hugged the walls. Some of the lockers had keys hanging from them.

  Joe flicked one of the familiar keys with his finger. “How much to rent one?”

  “I think it’s still a quarter.” She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. “There’s no number on this key chain, so I have no idea which one it belongs to.”

  “I’m wondering how these guys remember which lockers are theirs, especially if they come in here drunk or drugged out.”

  “They’re not allowed in here when they’re high.”

  “Let’s face it. Some of them are just high on life, if you know what I mean—they’re in a permanently altered state without any substances to help them along.”

  “I’m sure Patrick and the rest of the staff help them out.”

  “We don’t have that luxury right now.” He banged his fist on the first locker to the right. “You ready to try your luck?”

  “At least we can rule out the ones that already have keys.” She stepped forward and tried to insert Marten’s key in the first locked locker. “Nope.”

  Hailey tried the lockers on the top row, with no results, and crouched down to start on the bottom row.

  A transient with a hat pulled halfway over his face shuffled into the room, and Joe nodded at him.

  The transient tipped his head and then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his bulky overcoat, mumbling to himself.

  “None of these.” Hailey popped up, bumping Joe’s arm with the top of her head, noticing the homeless guy in the corner for the first time. She zeroed in on him and said, “Do you need help finding something?”

  Joe tapped the side of her boot with his toe.

  She scowled at him, reserving her smile for the transient. “Can we help you?”

  “No!”

  Hailey jumped back at the shout and put a hand to her throat. “All righty then.”

  “Keep moving, Hailey.” Joe tapped the next locked locker.

  She inserted the key, and it clicked. “This is it.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Joe detected a flash of movement. He reached for his gun, but the fake homeless guy beat him to the punch.

  By the time Joe spun around with his weapon in hand, the transient had his arm around Hailey’s neck and a gun to her head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hailey twisted her head to the side and tried to sink her teeth into the arm that held her, but the man tightened his grip and she choked.

  Joe stood in front of them, blocking Marten’s locker, his gun pointed at the man who held her.

  The man, who didn’t smell homeless at all, shoved the cold metal of his gun against her temple. “Don’t even think about it, or I drop her right here. Place your gun on the floor and kick it toward me.”

  “Don’t do it, Joe. He’s going to kill me anyway. You know what happened at the house.”

  Joe waved his gun at the man. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  The man chuckled, his hot breath blasting her ear. “I’m holding all the cards here. Why would I tell you anything? Now step aside so I can get whatever it is de Becker left there for Hailey.”

  Hailey blinked rapidly at Joe and mouthed the word move.

  Without releasing his gun, Joe took a few shuffling steps to his right.

  The man spit out, “More.”

  Hailey gave Joe a wink, and he moved farther from the locker but still kept his gun trained on Hailey’s captor.

  The man descended on the open locker, dragging Hailey with him and keeping one eye on Joe.

  He probably didn’t want to shoot her here because of the men in the other room playing cards. A gunshot in a homeless shelter would be a very big deal. Of course, once he took her out of here, all bets were off...if he did take her out of here.

  Still facing Joe, the man made a half turn toward the locker and plunged his hand inside the small space, the sound of his fingernails scrabbling across the metal echoing in the room. “What the hell?”

  He made another sweep of the empty locker and ended it with a thump of his fist. “What did you do with it?”

  “There was nothing in there.”

  “Liar.” He pushed Hailey back, and her head banged against the bank of lockers.

  Joe growled and took a step forward.

  “Don’t move. I swear I’ll kill her.”

  “You’re not going to shoot anyone in here. This place probably has a hotline to the SFPD.”

  Joe’s cold voice had her swallowing hard. How could he be so sure?

  “Look, I don’t have anything. I didn’t take anything out of that locker because it was empty.” She spread her arms out to the sides. “Search me.”

  Someone laughed from the other room, and the man’s eye twitched.

  What would he do if they were interrupted? Would he start shooting? She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  “Take me out of here, and I’ll show you. I have nothing on me.”

  “Hailey, no.” Joe moved closer. “I’m not going to let him take you anywhere.”

  “What the hell is going on in here?” Two of the men from the card game stumbled into the locker room and hovered at the doorway, their eyes wide as they looked from Joe’s gun to her captor’s.

  “None of your business. Get the hell out of here...losers.”

  The two men turned, and then one of them grunted and charged at Hailey and the man holding her.

  The attack surprised her captor. He swung his gun from Hailey’s head toward his oncoming attacker and took a shot.

  Hailey screamed.

  Joe lunged forward and pushed her behind h
im.

  The homeless hero fell on top of the shooter and they grappled on the cement floor, the gun between them.

  Joe raised his own weapon, taking aim at the two men rolling on the floor.

  “Be careful, Joe. Don’t hit the homeless guy.”

  Cheers and shouts filled the room and Hailey’s mouth dropped open as she saw the men crowding the doorway and rooting on their guy as if this were an MMA fight instead of a life-or-death struggle.

  Joe got closer to the melee on the floor and shouted, “Stop. Stop.”

  A shot sounded, and Hailey covered her ears as the sound bounded off the walls. She plastered herself against the lockers, her mouth dry as she watched the two men on the floor slowly separate.

  The transient rolled off the other man, breathing hard and clutching his bloody leg. He coughed and then laughed like a crazy person.

  Hailey’s gaze shifted to the man who’d had her at gunpoint.

  Joe crouched beside the form sprawled out on the cement, blood pumping and spurting from a wound on his chest. Joe had his fingers at the man’s pulse and was furiously whispering something in his ear.

  Patrick stormed into the room. “What the hell happened here? Someone call 911. Trace, are you okay?”

  The transient on the floor groaned and rolled to his side. “The guy shot me in the leg. They saw it. Self-defense, man. He had a gun on that woman.”

  Patrick stepped away from the carnage on the floor and grabbed Hailey’s arm. “Is this true?”

  “It’s all true. That guy—” she pointed at the man expiring on the floor, Joe still beside him “—had a gun on me, and Trace came in here and charged him.”

  Joe straightened up, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “He could’ve gotten Hailey killed, and himself, but Trace definitely saved the day.”

  Trace grabbed his bloody leg. “The guy called us ‘losers.’ I’m no loser. I’m a US marine.”

  An hour later, Hailey slumped behind the wheel of the Jag with Joe beside her. “Since you’re all over that police report, is it going to get back to your superiors?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m just glad Trace kept his mouth shut about my gun. That would’ve been a whole lot harder to explain without a concealed-carry license here in California.”