Colby vs Colby

“I hope you understand why I’m doing this, Jim.”

Jim studied Victoria for a bit before saying exactly what was on his mind. “You’re the one who needs to understand. I’m not that little boy who vanished twenty years ago. You have to stop punishing yourself for that, Victoria. It wasn’t your fault. You need to come to terms with the reality that I’m a grown man. I survived twenty years in hell without you. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder now.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to get that through to her…somehow.

Chapter Two

Sam cleared the stairs leading down to the second floor of the Colby Agency’s temporary home. One more floor and he’d hit the lobby and be out of there.

“Johnson, wait!”

He hesitated on the landing halfway between the first and second floors and closed his eyes for five seconds in an attempt to calm the rage simmering inside him before he said something he would regret. Detective Lisa Smith had no business showing up here. Damn it!

“What do you want?” he demanded when she hesitated one step above him. What did she hope to accomplish by coming here? He was just beginning to enjoy his new life. He didn’t need the past barging in.

“I want the truth, Johnson. You can’t keep running away from it.” She rested her hand on the railing and took the last step down to stand toe to toe with him. “As long as I have a breath left in me I’m going to keep haunting you. You should know that by now.”

Oh, yeah, he knew. He’d gone through months and months of hell because of her and her partner. The last four months of long-awaited peace weren’t nearly enough to banish those dark days.

He looked directly into her eyes, let her see the resolve in his. “You’re wasting your time, Detective Smith. You won’t ever know what happened. You can dog my every step for the rest of my life. It’s not going to work.” A ragged, involuntary exhale reminded him that he’d been holding his breath.

“Then we have a problem, Sam,” she said with a fortitude that matched his own. “Because it’s going to take both of us to stop what’s going down back home even as we speak.” She lifted her chin and ratcheted up the warning in her eyes. “And I’m not going back to L.A. without you.”

He leaned closer, heard her breath hitch at the unexpected move. “No, Detective, we don’t have a problem. You have a problem.” He knew his civil rights forward and back. No way could she make him go back without a court order. If she’d had one, they wouldn’t be having this discussion right now. She would have arrived with her partner and all would have been handled swiftly and by the book.

As if he hadn’t said a word, she took another shot at convincing him. “Lil Watts has issued a new contract on you. You’ll be lucky to survive the week. No one close to you will be safe. Maybe you’ve forgotten how these guys work.”

Sam looked away, remembered terror slithered beneath his skin in spite of his best efforts to suppress any and all emotion. He still had a sister in L.A. Parents. None of whom understood his decision to leave…could never know his reason. The words he refused to utter aloud stuck in his throat. His family was supposed to be safe as long as he stayed away. That was the deal.

“When did things change?” His voice was bitter, brittle, as he leveled his attention on the detective once more.

“About two weeks ago.” Her eyes told him she wanted to back up a step, but she stayed put. “I guess you didn’t hear about it. The Man is dead. Murdered. Lil Watts took over. He’s shaking things up. Every damned gang in L.A. is restless. I think he wants to set his own precedents. Make himself look superior by having his long-awaited vengeance on you—the one that got away.”

Sam knew the gang members weren’t the only ones nervous. The riots of 1992 hadn’t been forgotten by anyone who’d lived through them. She was right. He hadn’t heard. He’d stopped watching the news a long time ago. But her revelation certainly explained why she was here. The Man had made the deal with Sam, and he was dead.

That meant one thing: open season on Sam Johnson and anyone he cared about.

“What’s the standing order?” There would be specifics. It wouldn’t be enough just to make him dead. Lil Watts liked pumping up the drama and the gore. Like Napoleon, his small stature dictated that he constantly attempt to make up for what he lacked in size. He wouldn’t rest until he’d made a circus act out of the situation and proved just how big and powerful he was to the world he now represented.

“Your head,” she said bluntly, “delivered to him on the proverbial platter. He chose six of his most devoted followers—whichever one brings him what he wants gets to be his right-hand man.”

Now there was some heavy incentive. A scuzzball’s wet dream.

“So, basically, I’m a dead man.”

Those brown eyes searched his before she nodded, her expression grim.

If Sam was nowhere to be found, the more ambitious and intelligent of the chosen hunters would go for his unsuspecting family. He didn’t need the good detective to tell him that.

“What about Sanford?” Detective Charles Sanford had hated allowing Sam to walk away. He’d taken it badly when he hadn’t been able to prove Sam’s involvement in the murders of those who had killed Anna. Sanford hadn’t given Sam a minute’s peace as long as he had remained in Los Angeles.

“In a nutshell,” she replied, “he’s hoping to be the one to ID your remains.” A weary sigh escaped her. “He doesn’t know I’m here. The whole division thinks I’m on vacation in Mexico.”

Sanford would love nothing better than to dance on Sam’s grave. No surprise there. The truly startling idea was that she was here. That she’d warned him what was going down. “If your partner finds out you lied to him he’s not going to be happy.” Sanford wasn’t the type to forgive this kind of perceived betrayal, no matter if justice was Smith’s primary motive, and Sam wasn’t entirely sure about that. Sounded a little too simple to him.

“I don’t intend for him to find out,” she countered, the frankness in her expression credible.

He got the picture now. “You think we can do this under the radar?”

Another of those barely discernible nods. “We’ll go in dark. Keep a low profile while we try and neutralize this situation before anyone gets hurt. If we prove you weren’t involved in the murders, assuming you weren’t, then Watts should back off.”

“Impossible.” She was out of her mind. If this was her way of getting him to come clean about what really happened, she could forget it.

“It’s the only way I can help you.” For the first time since she’d arrived, he saw a flicker of trepidation in her eyes. “You have to trust me, Sam.”

He ignored the new kind of tension that filtered through him when she used his first name like that… like she cared. He couldn’t afford any soft feelings where this woman was concerned. “What you’re suggesting, Detective—” his gaze bored into hers “—will not set me free. It will only get us killed.”

“You’re dead, anyway.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “There are far better ways to achieve a promotion, Smith.” If she wanted to make the next pay grade she should focus on kissing up to the brass, not digging around in cold cases that would get her six feet under.

Her one hand resting on the railing, she plowed the fingers of the other through her hair as if her patience had thinned. “I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” he cut in. “Don’t play games with me, Detective. Give it to me straight. If I’m going back to L.A. with you, I at least need to know you’re not a head case. I have no desire to go dark with a cop who’s suicidal.”

Well, hell, he’d really messed up now. He’d given her that inch she wanted so desperately. He’d admitted that he was going back to L.A. It wasn’t as if he had a choice. When had his brain staged a mutiny and decided he was going with her?

This time when she met his eyes there was no trepidation. That unyielding determination was back, full force. Maybe even had a little anger in the mix. “I want to help you get your life back…for real.”

That tug he hadn’t felt in months—not since the last time they’d stood this close—had him fighting the need to lean closer…to taste the grim line of those lush lips. Oh, yeah. Ten minutes around her and he’d already lost his grip on reality. He had to be out of his mind to even consider what she was proposing.

He was a fool, that was for sure.

Sam drew back a step, mentally shook off the too-intense moment. There wasn’t any going back now. “We should go back to Victoria’s office and work out the particulars.”

“Does this mean you’re going back to L.A. with me?”

If she was surprised at his decision, she kept the reaction carefully concealed behind that inflexible cop demeanor she’d yanked back into place.

“It means I’m going back. Whether I go with you or not is yet to be seen.”

He walked around her and headed up the stairwell.

It wasn’t like he had a choice. He couldn’t let Watts carry out his vengeance on his family.

Going back to L.A. was the last thing he’d ever expected to do.

Ironically it probably would be the last thing he ever did.

LISA SMITH couldn’t take the first step upward. Not yet. His answer had shocked her. She hadn’t expected him to agree to go back to L.A. quite so easily. Not in a million years, actually.

A dozen steps up he abruptly stopped and turned to her. “You coming?”

Heat rushed up her neck and across her cheeks. If he noted her hesitation, thought for one second she couldn’t handle this, he would refuse to cooperate. She knew the kind of man she was dealing with here. “Yeah. I’m right behind you.” She took the steps two at a time until she’d reached the one just below him.

Instead of giving her his back and resuming his climb upward, he studied her…too close. She banished all emotion. Stared right back at him. Whatever he was thinking, she wouldn’t have him reading her. She remembered all too well just how good he was at that particular skill.

When he decided the intimidation wasn’t going to work, he turned forward and headed back up to Victoria Colby-Camp’s office. Lisa didn’t draw a deep breath until they were inside that neutral territory. Victoria had agreed to help her. That put her on Lisa’s side. Strange, that decision also seemed to pit her directly against her own son. Lisa wasn’t sure of the story there.

Jim Colby still stood in front of his mother’s desk, looking annoyed at the whole situation. Victoria remained calm and as regal-looking as when Lisa had first met her yesterday afternoon.

“I have to go back to L.A. and handle this,” Sam said to Jim Colby. “There really isn’t any other way.”

“I can send Anders with you,” Jim suggested. “You’ll need backup.”

Sam shook his head. Lisa had known he would do that.

“I have to do this alone.”

Lisa held up both hands stop-sign fashion. “We do this my way, Johnson. I’m the one with the badge.” No way was she going to have him going vigilante. Again. He had to understand who was in charge, here and now. Now that she knew he was going back, she could afford to push the boundaries a little. The glare he pointed in her direction told her what he thought of that idea.

“I would much prefer,” Victoria interrupted, maneuvering easily through the thick tension radiating between Lisa and Johnson, “sending one of my investigators at least in a support capacity.”

“Support would be helpful, as long as there’s no question who’s in charge.” Lisa looked from Victoria to her son, Jim Colby. Both were determined to help, but she needed him to be onboard with her. Jim Colby kept whatever he was thinking to himself.

Johnson, however, did not. He moved his head firmly from side to side. “No one else gets involved. The only way to do this is by slipping into that world, the less fanfare the better. It’s too risky to drag anyone else into the situation.”

Lisa couldn’t argue the validity of that particular point, but backup could make the difference between success and failure. She couldn’t call on anyone in Homicide for support of any nature. If they figured out what she was up to, the chief would have her shield. Not to mention that Chuck would probably request a new partner.

“We’ll need logistical support,” Lisa argued, infusing as much logic into her tone as possible. “We can’t go under deep cover and handle any necessary logistics at the same time.”

Johnson appeared to consider her assertion. Good. She’d made him think. The operation they were talking about was extremely dicey at best. Any and all help behind the scenes that didn’t come from LAPD would be beneficial.

“All right. Logistical support and that’s it. No one goes in except me.”

There he went again. “And me,” she reminded, setting him straight.

He looked away, gave his attention to his boss. “I need to make arrangements for my family.” His sister was ten years his junior. She still lived with his parents while she completed her doctorate at UCLA.

“I’ll send two of my investigators to serve as security,” Victoria offered. “I have several who are the absolute best to be found.”

“Anders will provide logistical support,” Jim Colby said to Sam, choosing not to comment on his mother’s offer. “Anything you need, you let him know. He’s been in far worse places than L.A.’s gang world.”

Johnson said to Lisa, “Spencer Anders is former Special Forces. He spent most of his time in the Middle East. He could handle this with his eyes closed.”

“Good.” She didn’t mention that she already knew Anders was former military. She’d run a complete background check on the Equalizers the day Johnson went to work there. “There’s a flight that leaves at three this afternoon. We could be on it,” Lisa suggested. The sooner they were on their way the better, in fact. She didn’t want him having any extra time to reconsider.

“That’ll work,” he agreed, though it didn’t sound as if his heart was in the decision.

“Let’s use the agency jet,” Victoria offered as she pushed out of her chair. “That way the two of you can brief the others en route, and equipment transport won’t be a problem. Airport security makes getting across country with the necessities for an assignment like this nearly impossible.”

Victoria was right. A private aircraft would make travel considerably less complicated for all involved. Excellent idea or not, Lisa couldn’t help noticing the increasing tension in Jim Colby. His posture grew even more rigid and his jaw tightened to the point that a muscle repeatedly contracted there. Apparently, he was not pleased with what he presumed to be Victoria’s interference. When running that background check, Lisa had learned that Jim Colby was Victoria’s son. Evidently, Victoria had remarried since her surname was now Colby-Camp. Maybe that was part of the problem. Whatever. Lisa was no shrink, but her gut instinct told her that there was an explosion coming between these two.

Or maybe Victoria was unhappy that her son had started his own firm rather going into the family business. Lisa had wondered at that. Evidently Jim had drawn a line in the sand, professionally speaking, and Victoria just kept crossing it. A standoff, Colby versus Colby. Lisa would just as soon not be around when those two reached their breaking points. And it was coming, fast, that much was as plain as day.

Jim turned to Johnson. “We should get the communications equipment together. I don’t want you out of touch with Anders.”

“And fire power,” Johnson added.

“I’ll instruct the pilot to prepare,” Victoria said to no one in particular, though Lisa suspected what she wanted was for her son to acknowledge her act of support.

“Can we be ready to go by three?” Lisa looked from one man to the other. She recognized that Victoria needed certain information, starting with takeoff time.

Johnson shifted his attention to her, though reluctantly so. “Three will give us plenty of time.”

Jim Colby nodded. “We’ll rendezvous at the airfield at two-thirty,” he said to Victoria.

His comment felt like a dismissal to both her and Victoria, but Lisa wasn’t going anywhere without Sam Johnson. No way was she going to risk him taking off on her and doing this on his own.

“I don’t see any reason to hang around here,” she said with a glance in Victoria’s direction. “I can drop my rental off and join the two of you for preparations,” she said to Jim Colby. “If—” this was the tricky part “—Johnson doesn’t mind giving me a ride from the rental car agency.”

Johnson stared straight at her. For three beats she was certain he was going to say no.

“I can do that.”

He didn’t want to, his body language shouted that message loud and clear, but for some reason he didn’t turn her down.

Lisa offered her hand across Victoria’s desk. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Colby-Camp.”

Victoria shook her hand. “I’ll see you this afternoon, Detective Smith. I’m certain that we can find the truth you’re looking for and neutralize this volatile situation for Mr. Johnson.”

Hoping like hell she was right, Lisa turned to Sam Johnson. “Are you ready?”

To Jim Colby, Johnson said, “I’ll see you back at the office.”

Colby confirmed with a nod. “I’ll just finish up here.”

With Johnson right behind her, Lisa left Victoria’s office without a backward glance. She could feel the tension mounting once more, pushing the air out of the room. Mother and son weren’t finished by any means.

The trip down the two flights of stairs was made without conversation this time and with every bit as much tension as before. They’d reached the parking lot before Johnson said a word to her.

“Which rental agency?” he asked without so much as a glance at her.

“Budget.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She wanted to say no. To tell him that she’d rather stay close behind him or have him follow her.

“Okay.” At least she knew what kind of car he drove and his license plate number. She’d just have to keep him in her line of sight.

Lisa headed for her rental, keeping an eye on Sam Johnson as he strode toward his own sedan. She got into her car and started the engine. The opportunity to hit the street at the same time he did wasn’t possible, but she did fall in three cars behind him.

She gripped the steering wheel in a death lock as she waited for an opportunity to maneuver closer to his black sedan. A stop light caught her after he’d passed through it.

“Damn!”

Her heart thudding in her chest, she waited for the green. Her foot instinctively shifted from the brake to the accelerator the instant the light changed. She’d never catch him now.

The cell phone in her pocket vibrated. Not taking her eyes off the back of Johnson’s car, she dug out her phone and took a breath.

“Smith.”

“Hey, Smith, where the hell are you?”

Lisa’s pulse skittered. Her partner, Charles Sanford.

“I’m…headed to a spa appointment,” she lied. “Where the hell are you?”

She cut right, edging between two cars, which left only one between her and Johnson.

“I figured you’d still be in bed. You’re supposed to be partying, hanging out in the bars all night. Isn’t that what singles do when they go to Cozumel?”

She glanced at the digital clock on the dash—9:20 a.m. Two hours earlier in L.A.

“I had to take the first appointment of the morning to get this particular masseur. He’s supposed to be the best.” She bit her lip and hoped he’d go for the lie.

“Oh-ho, I see how it is. Well, enjoy. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were behaving yourself.”

“Thanks, Chuck. I’ll see you next week.”

Lisa closed the phone and slid it back into her pocket. Was her partner suspicious? She couldn’t be sure. She’d given him no reason to be…but he was no fool. He’d been at this a whole lot longer than she had. He knew she was obsessing over the news about Johnson. In fact, she’d used that as her excuse for the abrupt vacation. The timing had worked out perfectly. Her parents were away on vacation with friends, as well, so she didn’t have to worry about them calling to check up on her.

Still, her story might not be enough for her partner.

Pushing her partner’s call aside, she changed lanes, tried to get behind Sam’s car. She’d almost caught up with him. As she moved closer, a look at the license plate told her she’d made a mistake at some point since leaving the Colby Agency parking lot.

This wasn’t Johnson’s car.

Where was he?

There was no other vehicle matching his for as far as she could see.

With no other choice, she drove to the rental agency and parked. No sign of Sam Johnson in the lot.

Just her luck. Less than an hour after coming face-to-face with him again and he’d lied to her already.

So much for finding the truth.

Chapter Three

Sam watched Lisa Smith climb out of her rental car and survey the lot. She was looking for him. He shouldn’t keep her guessing like this, but he needed to be sure of her motives. He’d played a little switch-and-bait with her, falling in between a couple of other black sedans and then abruptly making an exit while she followed the others. Even with that one traffic signal to his advantage, he could only assume she’d been distracted, otherwise he wasn’t sure he would have fooled her so easily.

He’d taken a shortcut to the rental agency and parked where he could watch her arrive.

When she walked out of the rental office, an overnight bag in her hand, and took another long look around the lot, he decided to put her out of her misery. He backed out of the parking slot where he’d waited, then pulled up right in front of her.

She tried to act as if she weren’t surprised as she stowed her bag in the back, then slid into the passenger seat, but he knew better.

“Did you get an unexpected call?” he ventured as he merged into the traffic on the street.

Her startled glance in his direction gave him his answer. He’d been guessing, of course. But a cell phone call was the most likely culprit whenever a driver got distracted. Since she didn’t have any passengers, hadn’t been eating while driving and there hadn’t been any traffic incidents to vie for her attention, then the cell phone was the probable candidate. He’d gotten away from her too easily to believe that one traffic signal had done the trick. This lady was trained in surveillance.

“Or maybe you made one,” he went on when she couldn’t decide how to answer. “Maybe to let your partner know how and when we were arriving.”

The line of her jaw tightened. She didn’t have to be looking at him for him to sense her anger. He’d ticked her off by suggesting she was keeping something from him. That she didn’t deny his charges didn’t bode well. The detective was hiding something, it seemed.

“Detective Sanford called,” she said crisply, maintaining that steady watch on the traffic in front of their car.

“Did you give him an update on me?” He should have known that she wouldn’t be working alone. The cop mentality was pair oriented.

“I told him I was on my way to a spa appointment.” She looked at him then. “He thinks I’m in Cozumel on vacation.”

Sam fixed his attention on the street as he maneuvered through midmorning traffic. “If I find out you’re lying to me—”

“You won’t.”

Instead of driving directly to the office, he turned in the direction of his place. He might as well pack a bag and check the aquarium. Once preparation was underway back at the office, he didn’t want to have to break away for anything as menial as grabbing his toothbrush. He’d driven a dozen or so blocks before she spoke up. He hadn’t expected to get that far.

“Where are we going?”

“My place.” He took the next left. “I’m sure you already know the address.”

She didn’t bother denying his charge. He imagined that she knew all there was to know about him except the details of why and how the three scumbags who murdered Anna were executed.