SEAL on a Mission Page 3

  He thumbed the green button. “Owen, what’s up?”

  “Kyla left and we don’t know where she went.”

  He tightened his grip on the phone. “What do you mean, she left?”

  The heavy sigh on the other end of the line was barely audible over the sound of Andrew muttering and freaking out in the background. “She went to bed right after you took off, so we both kinda nodded off. When I woke up a few minutes later, Kyla was gone and so were her car keys.”

  “Dammit,” Wes muttered.

  “It gets worse,” Owen said. “Andrew and I found an empty case for a handgun sticking out from under her bed.”

  His stomach dropped. “Where the hell did Kyla get a gun?”

  Owen snorted. “This might be California, but we’re still part of the United States. Getting a handgun isn’t difficult for anyone with an ounce of intelligence and some money. Kyla has both.”

  Wes cursed. That was true enough.

  “Kyla’s laptop is still here, so we can pull up her tracking program and try to get a fix on her phone signal, but there’s a good chance she shut her phone off,” Owen said. “Maybe she went to stay with her mom. I thought about calling to check, but I didn’t want to freak Mrs. Wells out if Kyla isn’t there.”

  Wes took the phone away from his ear long enough to pull on his T-shirt. “After the way Kyla was talking earlier, there’s only one place she’d go.”

  “Nesbitt’s,” Owens muttered. “We were afraid of that. What are we going to do?”

  Scooping up his keys, Wes strode out of his apartment and headed for the stairwell. “I’m going to Nesbitt’s to intercept her before she does something crazy.”

  Or before she got herself hurt. The thought of something happening to Kyla made his gut clench.

  “What about Andrew and me?” Owen asked.

  “Listen to the police scanner and give me a heads-up if there’s company coming.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. “You really think Nesbitt will call the cops if he catches Kyla?”

  Wes unlocked his pickup and climbed in. “Right now, I’m more concerned with Kyla killing the asshole and spending the rest of her life in jail for it. I have to stop her before that can happen.”

  Hanging up, he started the engine. There was a part of him that refused to think Kyla would shoot Nesbitt in cold blood, but then he remembered how devastated she’d been after the judge released the man she’d spent the past year and a half blaming for her father’s death. But as the day had gone on, he’d seen the change in her. She’d gone from being shocked and in denial to angry as hell, and it was consuming her.

  So, yeah, Kyla might very well kill Nesbitt if she had a chance.

  Putting the truck in gear, he sped out of the parking lot. It would take at least a forty minutes to get to Nesbitt’s house in La Jolla, even at this time of night. With the head start Kyla had, she’d easily get there before he did. He prayed he got there before she did something she’d spend the rest of her life regretting.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT WAS ONLY fifteen miles from Kyla’s dorm to the upper crust community of La Jolla, which meant it’d typically take less than twenty minutes to get there. But since she didn’t want to chance getting pulled over with a gun in the car, she drove slower than usual. She didn’t care if it took a little longer to get to Nesbitt’s house. In fact, she hoped the extra time would help her figure out what to do. Because at the moment, her head was spinning.

  Kyla stopped her Prius about a mile down the road past Nesbitt’s obnoxiously large home. She’d never been so happy as she was now to have a hybrid car that was so quiet. Stepping out, she closed the door as silently as she could, then slipped into the deeper shadows along the tall stone wall surrounding his property and headed for the wrought iron gate. Thankfully, there was barely a sliver of moon in the sky, so no one should be able to see her. Halfway there, she slowed, the reality of what she was about to do finally hitting her.

  The entire drive over, she’d burned with the single irrational thought of making sure Nesbitt paid for what he’d done. But looking down at the gun in her hand, she wondered what the hell that even meant. Did she seriously think he’d confess everything the moment she pointed a weapon at him? If he didn’t, was she willing to shoot him in cold blood?

  Peeking through the darkness at the gate and the little guard shack beyond, she forced herself to consider the more immediate problem. What if there security on the property? Was she willing to shoot them, too? Nesbitt was a murderer, but his guards hadn’t done anything wrong.

  This whole plan of hers had been so spur-of-the-moment she wasn’t even sure if Nesbitt had any guards. According to the local news outlets, almost all of Nesbitt’s money had been going to pay his defense attorneys. Would he have bothered to maintain security to protect an empty home while he languished in prison?

  Not sure, she crept closer to the wrought-iron gate so she could get a better look at the guard shack. It was dark inside and from what she could see, it didn’t look like anyone was around. Relaxing a little, she turned her attention to the gate. That was when she realized she had no idea how to get in. What was she going to do, climb over the gate and leap down from the top? The thing had to be fifteen feet high. The mere idea of jumping from that height freaked her out, even if she could have gotten over it.

  She was a computer geek, not an athlete.

  Kyla backed away from the gate and into the shadows again. She needed a better plan if she had any hope of getting onto the Nesbitt property. She wished she’d brought her laptop so she could have hacked into his security system and peek around with the cameras he almost assuredly had. But she didn’t have anything with her but the gun she’d picked up at a gun show across the border in Phoenix a little more than two months ago. She wasn’t sure why she’d bought it, other than the fact that even then, she hadn’t been able to escape the sinking sensation that Nesbitt would go free.

  She slowly retraced her steps along the perimeter of the wall toward her car, following it around she came to a tree she thought she might be able to climb. If she crawled across one of the branches, she should be able to make it over the wall.

  Only one problem. She’d never climbed a tree in her life.

  Slipping the gun in her back pocket, she took a deep breath and headed resolutely for the trunk of the tree. She was going to do this and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her.

  The darkness helped. As soon as she starting to climb, Kyla lost sight of the ground. While it wasn’t very rational to trick herself into forgetting how high she was, it was still comforting. But her newfound confidence began to wane quickly when she stepped out onto the hick branch hanging over the wall. She’d had visions of walking out on it like some kind of world class gymnast, but that plan was dashed within seconds as the branch began to sway alarmingly and she nearly took a header toward the invisible but still very real ground below. She flailed about with her arms for a second, grabbing the thin branch above her and steadying herself just enough to save her butt.

  Don’t look down.

  Realizing how far over her head she was, Kyla almost chickened out, but one look at Nesbitt’s house hardened her resolve. Several lights were on inside and she saw him moving around through one of the windows.

  Kyla shuffled along the branch again, her eyes locked on Nesbitt as her hands grasped the smaller branches above to maintain her balance. The limb she was on shook and bounced as she moved farther away from the trunk, and she quickened her steps, eager to reach the wall. She cursed when she got there. Crap, she wasn’t going to be able to step off. She’d have to jump. Her stomach clenched at the thought. But as the limb she was on began to sway and creak under her, she knew she didn’t have time to overthink her options.

  Don’t look down.

  She dipped her weight once like she was about to jump off a diving board, then leaped forward. Her lack of athletic ability reared its nasty head aga
in as her left foot tangled in another branch and she pitched forward faster than she’d intended. She slammed into the top of the wall so hard that every bit of air she’d breathed in since she was a little kid exploded out of her lungs all at once. Her vision got fuzzy around the edges and if she hadn’t been draped across the wall like a wet towel she would have tumbled off. As it was, all she could do was lay there praying oxygen would somehow find its way back into her body before she passed out.

  After a few moments, she concluded she was going to survive. Her stomach and lower ribs might never be the same, but she guessed that was a small price to pay for being a klutz. With a grunt, she dragged herself the rest of the way up on top of the wall.

  Reaching around to make sure the handgun was still wedged in her back pocket, slowly wiggled around until her feet were hanging over the other side of the wall, then carefully lowered herself down. Almost immediately, she lost her grip and tumbled down into the darkness, landing on her butt.

  Cursing under her breath, she pushed herself to her feet and started toward the house, keeping to the darker shadows and hoping Nesbitt—or the guards, if there were any—wouldn’t see her. Once there, she cautiously peeked in the first window she came to, ready to duck if Nesbitt was looking her way, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Still not quite sure what she’d do when she got inside—if she got inside—Kyla reached out an gently pushed up on the window. Crap, it was unlocked. She shoved it higher, careful to do it as quietly as possible, only to frown when it stuck halfway up. No problem. She could fit through there.

  Crawling through the partially open window once again proved Kyla didn’t have a single athletic bone in her body. First, her shirt got caught on the sill, the collar getting wrapped around her neck and nearly choking her. Then the back of her jeans—and the gun in her pocket—caught on the window sash, leaving her hanging half in and half out of the house, feet kicking and flailing around.

  Could this get any more horrible?

  When she dropped to the floor inside the house, she was so relieved she barely paused to consider how loud the thud of her landing had been. She was in Nesbitt’s house. That was all that mattered.

  Getting to her feet, she pulled the pistol out of her back pocket and carefully clicked the safety button until she saw the red circle. See red…they’re dead. That was the phrase the old man at the gun show who’d sold her the gun had taught her as a way to remember when the safety was on or off. Catchy, but creepy.

  Kyla looked around the dark room. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, she saw that there were several couches and overstuffed chairs in the space, along with a few paintings and a wide shelf full of books. It was obviously a study or den of some kind. Maybe even a library.

  Crossing the room, she cautiously opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The house was quiet and equally dark. Maybe Nesbitt had gone to bed. She hoped not. The idea of shooting the man while he was sleeping made her cringe.

  Pushing the thought aside, Kyla followed the hallway toward the back of the house, the gun in her hand a heavy reminder of why she was there. She was halfway down it when she saw the broad carpeted staircase. She hurried toward it, her tennis shoes silent on the hardwood floor, only to freeze a few feet from the bottom when the light upstairs suddenly went on. A moment later, Nesbitt came down the steps in pajamas and a robe.

  Her head shouted at her to do something.

  Turn and run back down the hallway.

  Lift the gun in her hand and squeeze the trigger.

  Instead, she stood glued to the spot until Nesbitt reached the first floor.

  His eyes locked with hers, shock clear on his face to see even in the dim light. Shock turned to anger only to quickly be replaced by fear as his gaze dropped to the gun in her hand.

  Before Kyla could blink, Nesbitt turned and ran toward the back of the house. Even though she knew it was stupid, Kyla followed.

  Nesbitt raced through the kitchen and out the back door onto a stone patio area. Ornate lamps lined the edges of the space, bathing everything in a soft glow. In addition to a fire pit, there was a bar and fancy stainless grill, but Kyla was so focused on Nesbitt she barely noticed any of it. Rage that had been building all day consumed her, the thought of him getting away now too much to even contemplate.

  “Stop or I swear I’ll shoot you right now!” she shouted.

  Kyla doubted the threat would stop him, so she was surprised when he halted and turned around, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender.

  “Don’t kill me,” Nesbitt said, his voice pleading, his eyes full of fear.

  For some reason, the idea of him looking at her like she was the bad guy here pissed her off more than she already was. Bringing the gun up, she pointed it straight at the center of his chest, her finger wrapping around the trigger. A little voice in the back of her head repeated the warning from the old man who’d sold her the pistol about not pointing it at anyone you weren’t ready to kill. She ignored the reminder and took a step closer to Nesbitt.

  “Why shouldn’t I kill you like you killed my father?” she demanded.

  Nesbitt shook his head, his gaze flicking back and forth between her face and the barrel of the gun. “I didn’t kill your father,” he said softly, like he was afraid anything louder would make her even more furious. “I wasn’t even in San Diego that night.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We both know whoever pulled the trigger was doing it on your orders.” She moved another step closer, her finger tightening on the trigger of its own accord, making the barrel quiver. “You paid Nestor Stavros to murder him.”

  Nesbitt took a step back, trying to put more distance between them, but the fancy stone and wood railing around the patio kept him from getting very far. “It wasn’t like that. Yes, I hired Stavros. But he was only supposed to scare your father into changing the results of his investigation. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

  That sounded like complete and utter BS to her, but before she could tell Nesbitt that, he continued.

  “I swear it’s true. Stavros set me up for your father’s death.”

  “Why would he do something like that?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s the only thing that explains why he’d kill your father with a weapon registered to me then put it back into the safe in my office.” Nesbitt sighed. “That’s why I’ve had my lawyers dragging the trial out for months even though I had an alibi. I was trying to find out why a man who was supposed to be working for me was instead trying to have me put in prison for life.”

  There was a part of Kyla that half believed Nesbitt, but then she remembered he made a living out of looking people straight in the eye and lying his ass off. Just like he was doing now.

  “Do you think really I’m stupid enough to believe any of that?” Kyla asked softly. Somewhere between pointing the gun at Nesbitt and now, a calm had taken hold of her. She was ready to do what she’d came here for. “You can spin this anyway you want, but regardless of what you say, at the end of the day, you had a hand in my father’s death. And if the legal system won’t make you pay, then I will.”

  Moving nearer, she steadied the gun with both hands and started pulling the trigger.

  “You don’t want to do that,” a soft voice said from behind her, and Kyla knew without looking who it belonged to.

  “They’ll be no way to cover it up and you’ll be the one who goes to prison, not him,” Wes added. “Is that what you really want?”

  Grip tight on the gun, Kyla moved a little to right so she could see Wes out of the corner of her eye while still keeping most of her attention on Nesbitt. She had no idea how Wes knew she was there, but him showing up wasn’t going to change anything. She couldn’t let it.

  “If I go to prison, it will be worth it.” She glanced at Wes, the worried look on his face almost enough to make her rethink what she was doing. But she firmed her resolve. “You should leave. I don’t want you to get involv
ed in this.”

  But instead of leaving, he moved closer, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t do this. I know you think it’ll help you feel better, but I promise you it won’t. Afterward, you’ll be stuck living with the consequences. Your father will still be dead and you’ll miss him just as much, except now, you’ll be in prison and your mother will have lost both of you.”

  Of all the stuff Wes had said, the part about her mother was the one thing that hurt the most. She hadn’t given a single thought to what all this would do to her mom.

  Hands trembling, she took her finger off the trigger and slowly lowered the gun. Then Wes was there, carefully taking the weapon from her. A few feet away, Nesbitt was regarding her with something that might be compassion in his eyes.

  “I’ll testify against Stavros,” he said.

  Wes looked at him sharply. “Why would you be willing to do something like that now when you wouldn’t before?”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said Stavros killed her father and set me up to take the fall.”

  Nesbitt opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. A moment later, he stumbled backward. Kyla stared in confusion as blood ran down his face and along the side of his nose. That’s when she saw the bullet hole in his forehead.

  Before she could even wonder who shot him, Wes’s arms were around her and he was hustling her toward one of the stone stanchions that supported the railing. A split second later, a bullet slammed into the stonework near her head. Chips of rock peppered them and she let out a little scream as another bullet hit the big picture window behind them, shattering it.

  Cursing, Wes urged her closer to the stone stanchion. Gun in hand, he went up on one knee, firing out into the darkness.

  Everything slowed as Kyla glanced over at Nesbitt. He was lying on the patio, staring at her with lifeless eyes as blood still trickled from the bullet wound. She shuddered. Was that how her father looked right after Stavros killed him?