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Chapter 3
A few months later ~
The FBI possessed enough evidence to build a criminal case against Senator Raimundo M. Ortiz, but it wasn’t over yet. The agency could strike an effective blow using the documents and photographs that Lela Cabelo had managed to obtain, but it was crucial for her to testify at trial.
The senator’s arrest had been a coup for law enforcement. Lela wouldn’t forget the stunned look on her boss’s face when the feds appeared with a warrant. The event had been dramatic, even satisfying. But when Ortiz posted bail and was released, the agency had taken steps to protect their star witness.
Lela couldn’t believe that she’d actually argued against going into protective custody. Her contacts weren’t about to reveal their source, but it was foolhardy to think that the senator wouldn’t figure it out. Or maybe he’d been tipped off, because incriminating evidence had been deleted from his computer before the feds confiscated it.
Clearly, the FBI had been aware that the situation was more dangerous than she’d cared to believe. And now, in the crowded Amtrak station, Lela’s life was in peril, along with the agents risking their lives to protect her. The train station hadn’t been that terrific of an idea after all.
Three gang members were about to snuff out any possibility of getting a conviction on the slimy Texas senator. And that pissed Lela off in a major way.
The thin guy who’d grabbed Lela had muscles of steel. His arm wrapped around her like a vise, muffling her screams. He tightened his hold until the air squeezed out of her lungs, and she could barely breathe. The death grip blocked out the stench of the gangster’s body odor, but also cut off her oxygen supply. If she didn’t act fast, she’d pass out.
Bedlam broke out, and in her daze, Lela saw crowds swarming around like a colony of ants in a panic. Screams and shouts drowned out any talking. Fully engaged in the battle, the FBI was in no position to control the situation. She couldn’t count on them to rescue her, either.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lela spotted several men in uniforms with badges on their chests. It was station security running toward the melee. That was bad. Security guards weren’t prepared for this type of engagement, and would be no match for a gang attack.
If Lela was kidnapped by the thugs, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She couldn’t allow them to capture her. Fast action was called for, with not a second to spare. She prayed the feds could effectively defend themselves…then made her move.
The thin man had made a tactical error: he’d grabbed Lela around the middle but left her arms free. In a flash, she drew one arm forward then slammed her elbow back into the man’s gut. He might be a tough guy, but she’d guessed he didn’t have the washboard abs to go with it.
When Lela’s elbow hit the man’s soft belly, he let out a grunt and loosened his grip. It was enough to allow her to move, so she spun around and poked her fingers in his eyes, hard. He wouldn’t be seeing much for a while.
The roar of the fight with the agents held the enemy’s attention. No one interfered with Lela. Still close to the gangster with his hands over his eyes, she kneed him in the groin. Incapacitated, he dropped to the ground. He wouldn’t be breathing for a few seconds either.
A throng of people pushed by, blocking Lela’s immediate escape. So she dove behind a crowd, landed on her stomach, and slid over the gleaming floor. A glance back told her that no one had followed yet. She scrambled to her feet and ran, dodging between people and around objects.
One gang member was down, but she didn’t know about the rest. The gunshots hadn’t answered that question, since she hadn’t seen if the agents hit their targets, or if it had been the other way around. The fight provided a distraction, offering her a handful of seconds to escape.
If her pursuers were alive, they would come after her with murder in their heart. It might have been their aim to capture her, but she’d defused their strength and maimed one of their own. Retribution would be swift and bloody.
The thugs had miscalculated. They hadn’t expected Lela to fight, and hadn’t known that she could. It wasn’t a skill that she bragged about, since having surprise on her side was an advantage. Even the senator hadn’t known, so had likely portrayed her as an easy target, claiming all that would be needed was to bump off her federal escorts, and she’d be theirs.
But her enemy had been wrong. They had encountered prey capable of fighting back. That victory was good for the morale. But Lela wasn’t in the clear yet. Her life still hung by a thread. This was no time to gloat.
Lela ran, heading down a long passageway that seemed to go on forever. She skidded to a stop at the end of it, plowing into a wall. She’d hoped to cover enough distance, fast enough, to be out of reach. Glancing back, she saw the two gangsters enter the hall.
It was the tall guy with bushy hair, and the squat guy with the wide face. She saw no sign of the thin man she’d tangled with, and was certain he’d be out of commission for a bit. Dammit. They saw her and sprinted down the hall.
That meant Simmons and Robertson were seriously injured or dead. Either way, Lela was on her own. She turned the corner, ducking out of sight, and took off at a fast clip. There were no obvious escape routes, but there were doors to different departure gates.
She could pick a gate and pray the tactic delayed the gangsters, while they went through various gates to search for her. But they might choose right the first time, and that would end it all. She had this one opportunity to escape, so she had to make it count.
Up ahead, she spotted a woman coming out of a door. A sign above it said: employee restroom. Normally, private facilities were locked. But the woman stepped out just as Lela reached the door. She plowed into the woman, shoving her back inside. The door slammed shut behind them.
The woman gasped, but Lela put her hand over her mouth to muffle any noise. “Don’t make a sound. Two gang members are chasing me, and they will kill you just for being with me.”
The woman’s eyes widened. When Lela removed her hand, there was silence. “I need your clothes.” There was no time to argue. “You have to get me out of here…or your life is in just as much danger as mine.”
While the woman removed her clothing, Lela peeled hers off, too. It was a stroke of luck that they wore about the same size. It appeared the woman worked in the cafeteria, because she had on baggy slacks and shirt underneath an oversized jacket. It was a sort of comfy kitchen uniform.
The best part was that the outfit included a kitchen worker’s cap that would hide Lela’s long hair. Like a quick-change artist, Lela donned her new garb. A look in the mirror affirmed that she looked completely different. She retrieved her sunglasses from her bag and put them on.
The woman was beginning to get dressed, but didn’t say much.
“I’m sorry about this,” Lela said. She picked up her bag and dug inside for some cash. “Here, buy a new uniform.” Then she hid the bag inside the roomy jacket and cracked the door open.
