Broken Wings

by Terri Schaefer

  Natalie drew in a breath. She’d been thinking that, but the fact he was as well…

  “You must be Masters. Your name is starting to ring a bell with me, and it’s not a good one.”

  “Don’t care. My commission just flew away, and I’m going to get it one way or the other.”

  Masters looked menacing now, his hand still curled around the gun, his features flat and hard, and Natalie jolted. What did he mean by that? Was he threatening her?

  “Get my daughter home in one piece and you’ll have it.”

  She braced her hands on her hips in indignation. “I can get myself home perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

  “Not with Ward’s men gunning for both of you as well as the cops. I suspect Petra killed him and used the two of you as both her alibi and escape hatch.”

  “Ward is dead?”

  Masters’ voice held such shock that she knew he was in the clear as well. Which made Petra responsible for murder.

  But why would the woman murder him now? In another week she would have been his wife, could have killed him in a much less public manner that might be swept aside as an accident. Collected a massive fortune.

  “This was a message,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. “She could have killed him after the wedding. Turning off our rescue attempt would have been as easy as saying she was fine.”

  “Agreed,” her father said. “Right now I’m not sure if this is backed by foreign or domestic enemies. Ward had plenty of both. I need the information you took from his files, and quickly.”

  “I just need to get back to Maryland—” she began, before Masters cut her off. “Where she goes, I go. My boss is pissed and so am I. I didn’t ask for any of this. I was doing a job. So how are you going to get us out of here?”

  “We have to assume every move I make is being watched by Ward’s men,” said Flynn. “If you can get back to Dallas, I can set up plane tickets from here.”

  Natalie started to agree, then realized with horror that her purse was still in the helicopter. The only things she had to her name right now were her cell phone, the thumb drive tucked into her bra and the clothes on her back. And her weapon.

  There was no way to get an ID fast enough to fly commercially. “Can you send a charter for us? I can’t fly commercial. My ID is in the chopper.”

  Greg went quiet for a long moment, and in that moment she could hear judgement. Again. “Nothing that won’t be traced. Hold on a moment.”

  Natalie felt Masters watching her, lifted her head to meet his gaze. “We’ll figure this out,” he said quietly.

  “I don’t need to be patronized,” she snapped. She was embarrassed that her father so clearly underestimated her skills, regardless of the ID fiasco. “I spent five years moving between southern Europe and North Africa on security details. Another five moving primaries around New York City and Los Angeles. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to get out of Midland, Texas.”

  He assessed her for a long moment, nodded, and appeared to be on the verge of saying something when her father came back on the line.

  “There’s a secure internet connection at this address.” He read it off. “You should be about ten miles from there. It’s a business owned by a friend, and she knows you’re coming. Get me that information, then get back to Maryland, but take it slow. I need to do damage control.”

  “Why the hell would I take it slow?” she demanded, hating that she sounded impulsive and defensive, but dammit, she deserved to know what was going on.

  “Because you’re a suspect, that’s why. Both of you. Your names hit the news while I was on the phone with Mandy. Apparently your disguise wasn’t good enough, Natalie. They made you. You’re both considered armed and dangerous and are about an hour away from being the focus of a multi-state manhunt. So get me that information and hole up until we figure out what the fuck happened. Pull your SIM cards and ditch your cells. Mandy is working an exit plan, burner phones, and has already sent a driver. He should be there momentarily. Check in every four hours until this is over.” He disconnected and Natalie stared at the phone for a long moment, shock thundering through her system. It wasn’t the fact they were being hunted, it was the tone in her father’s voice, the disappointment, the censure.

  She pulled herself together, then looked at Masters. “Well, fuck.”

  Chapter 4

  Their driver pulled up in an SUV that looked like it’d had a previous life as an armored personnel carrier.

  He and Natalie had done as Flynn directed, pulling their SIM cards and ditching the devices, though it pained Ethan mightily to submerge his nine-hundred-dollar phone in a bathroom wastebasket filled with tap water.

  He stared at the endless blue sky, cursing Petra for a long moment before they climbed into the SUV. Her sweet face had fooled them all. Any doubts he’d had about her being an operative had vanished about the same time the helo had lifted off the deck.

  He slid into the cushy leather back seat next to Natalie, wondered where the hell this Mandy lived and who she was.

  Their chauffer was the strong and silent type, and it wasn’t as if he or Natalie felt like chatting.

  It’d been a hell of a morning, and it was just closing in on noon.

  They drove for about half an hour, skirting through downtown city streets and well-maintained neighborhoods before pulling into the parking lot of a boutique-looking store. The driver headed around back, unlocked the doors and motioned them out with a dip of his head.

  Ooookay.

  Ethan shot a look at Natalie, and she was giving the man the same side-eye. Even she had no idea what her father was up to.

  They opened the unlocked back door. Natalie was all kinds of calm, likely because this seemed to be a safe house of sorts her father had directed them to. But Ethan wasn’t quite so relaxed. He knew what men like Ward and Flynn were capable of. What they could—and had—done to people they considered allies.

  The driver hadn’t relieved them of their weapons, so if nothing else, that made him marginally comfortable. But he still walked so his back was to the wall and his field of fire was clear, even if his weapon still had the safety engaged and was tucked in the back of his cargos.

  They walked down a short, unremarkable hallway and then into a knickknack explosion. The walls were covered with purses and necklaces and bumper stickers. UTEP mugs and Paydirt Pete dolls. Texas state garden flags and jars of cowboy caviar and jalapeno salsa.

  Behind the register sat a woman with quite possibly the biggest hair he’d ever seen. Everything about her was loud, blowsy, overblown. Peg Bundy.

  He looked around for their contact, wondering if it was one of the other two women browsing the store, but neither was looking in their direction.

  Natalie strode the register. “We’re looking for Mandy.”

  The woman smiled, scarlet lipstick offsetting a blindingly white smile. “You found her, sugar. You’d be Natalie. You’re the spitting image of Greg, but prettier, of course.” She climbed off the stool and Ethan realized she was tiny, probably five feet in her sock feet, but the towering shoes she had on added a good four inches.

  “Come on.” She shifted her attention to her customers. “Ladies, give me just a minute to help this nice couple and I’ll be back.” She led them down the hallway, and into a doorway he’d noted and dismissed as a stockroom.

  The office behind the door was meticulous, the exact opposite of the mayhem in the front room.

  Mandy settled into a chair behind the desk, kicked off her heels and sighed in relief as she turned her focus to give Ethan and Natalie the once over.

  “You two really screwed the pooch on this one. Ward dead, his assassin in the breeze, and the law looking for you.”

  Ethan started to say something, but she held up a hand. “I don’t want to know a damned thing. Greg told me what I needed to know.” She gestured to a set of keys. “Keys to the RV and the Jeep. I’ve outfitted you with two burner phones with Gr
eg’s number programmed in already. Five large in cash, with another five on two untraceable visa gift cards. Use those for incidentals and for gods’ sakes, don’t use your real names, drivers licenses or anything that’ll clue someone in on who you are. First names only. I didn’t have enough time to make alternate IDs, so just be smart.”

  “Harold has a suitcase with clothes to change in to in the SUV. What you’re wearing is already on film and being circulated, not to mention it’s totally impractical.” She looked at Natalie’s hair, sighed. “No way we can color your hair so quickly and not have it look like shit, so keep it up in a ballcap or ponytail whenever you can. Maybe consider a wig if you think you can pull it off.” She cocked her head, studied Natalie. “You’d work as a dishwater blonde.”

  Ethan could feel Natalie practically bursting with exasperation next to him. “I know how the hell to go underground,” she said, her words short, a bit insulted.

  “I’m sure you do, but time is short. They’ll track that helicopter to Midland soon enough, and you two need to be gone before they get here.”

  “Neither of us did anything,” Natalie protested. “We should wait for the authorities, clear this all up.”

  Her surety came from having her father’s influence behind her, Ethan knew. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. He’d been repossessing the helicopter legally, and it would put the cops on the right track for Ward’s true murderer… Petra.

  He and Natalie had been steamrolled by Flynn’s plans, never even talked about just hunkering down and waiting.

  Mandy’s reply, in her businesslike tone, sent a chill up his spine. “Oh, bless your heart, sweetie. It’s not the cops you should be worried about.”

  He spoke for the first time. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mandy looked him over from head to toe. “You know as well as I do what Ward was into. Cops and investigations can be bought. Evidence can be lost or manufactured. You two are walking, talking patsies. Someone big paid for his murder, and you two are the only ones who can give any kind of background on her.”

  Well hell, when she put it that way.

  He reached over, grabbed the keys. “Talk to me about the RV.”

  Natalie rounded on him, her face furious. She didn’t like being railroaded, which he totally understood, but right now, it was better if they were on the move.

  “You can yell at me later, but right now, we need to move.”

  Her chin firmed up, like she wanted to argue, and he’d never wanted to kiss the attitude off anyone more. The compulsion was so powerful he actually stepped forward, into her personal bubble before he reined himself in, shocked that the thought, the urge, had even come into existence.

  This was Natalie Flynn. With every fiber in his being, he needed to remember who her father was, what he stood for, and how he’d completely wrecked Ethan’s life.

  Natalie watched something, she wasn’t sure what, cross Masters’ face, before he took a very careful step back and his face went blank. Part of her was dying to know what he was thinking, but the other, rational part of her knew they had other shit to do.

  The first of which was figure out who the hell Mandy was, and why she was helping them. Yeah, her father had sent them here, but when she looked at the woman she got a feeling. Not a bad one, necessarily, but not something that gave her the warm fuzzies either.

  She faced the woman behind the desk, who still looked like a caricature of what folks expected a Texas woman to look like, but whose gaze was shrewd and knowing.

  Mandy was answering Ethan’s question about the RV. “Twenty-six footer. Not new, but new enough to be reliable. Looks more worn than it is. Tows a four-door Jeep that also looks like it’s seen better days. Best bet is to be on vacation, traveling across the country. It should work for the short term. Ward’s men and the cops would never think to look for you in a KOA Campground.”

  Natalie ignored what she’d said, honing in on why the woman made her twitch instead. “Who are you to my father?”

  Marcy smiled, the barest tilt to her lips. “We’ve known each other a long time. Help each other out when we get the call.”

  “So you’re what, a security specialist as well?” Natalie couldn’t really see it, but again, Mandy’s demeanor was all coolly professional.

  “Not so much that,” she answered. “Let’s just say I’m more of a disappearing specialist and leave it at that.” She stood, toed back into her stilettos and headed for the door.

  Natalie and Ethan had no real choice but to follow.

  “RV is ten miles down the road. Harold will drop you off. Don’t come up for air for at least a week, at least not as yourselves. Now hand over that thumb drive and get gone.”

  “No,” Natalie replied, digging in her heels. “Log me into a terminal and I’ll send it myself, but no way I’m handing this over to you, no matter what Dad says.”

  Mandy stopped, her hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned. Gave Natalie a more thorough once over than she had before. Then she smiled, a true smile. “Good girl. Help yourself to the computer, just make it quick. It’s secure enough for what you’re sending. Harold will be waiting for you in the alley.”

  Then she stepped out, and before the door closed, Natalie saw her gait and posture change, as she once again took on the mannerisms of the owner of a store that sold fripperies.

  “Who the hell is she?” she whispered, then shook her head. “Never mind, doesn’t matter.” She stepped to the desk, accessed the privacy browser Arrow Security used, then ran a program to ensure the information wouldn’t be cloned and downloaded to Mandy’s computer. That was how she’d set it up, if she was Mandy. Information was currency.

  But it was clean.

  While she worked, she watched Masters out of the corner of her eye.

  They’d been in motion for the past few hours, so she hadn’t had much time, or inclination, to form much of an opinion. But now, as the data she’d collected began to transfer, she looked her fill. Secretly, of course.

  He was taller than she’d originally thought, maybe because he seemed to try to make himself seem smaller, less threatening. Like he was a supporting player, not the primary.

  Which was the furthest thing from the truth. She’d seen him go all alpha. Had spent enough time in sandy places overseas to know a military man when she saw him. So what drove him to fade into the background? Special ops, maybe? Those guys were either completely over the top or gone before you noticed they were there.

  It didn’t really matter how much he tried. He had a face that drew attention, or at least hers, now that she was really looking.

  Hazel eyes drew you in first, but then you looked down and saw those lips. Whew. Framed by a neatly trimmed goatee, they were perfectly kissable.

  Which she should one hundred percent not be thinking of. Not when he so openly despised her father… and her by extension.

  She also knew she had a type, and he was it. She loved the adventurers. The guys who ran toward gunfire to assist, rather than the other way, toward safety.

  And she’d been burned by that love, lost the man she’d thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. Lost Cord. Lost so much of herself when he died.

  Which is why she’d never again fall for the daredevil, no matter how much they made her pulse race. Nope, she was going for buttoned-down businessmen now, as soon as this debacle ended and she started her new life in Maryland.

  The computer beeped, indicating the transfer was complete. She pulled the thumb drive, ensured once again that she’d left no trace, and stood.

  Masters hadn’t moved during her upload or her eyeballing, simply stood by the door, arms crossed against his chest as he watched her work with those hazel eyes that seemed to see everything.

  “I’m still not sure how much I like this,” she said as she approached him, “but I guess it can’t hurt, at least for a day or two.”

  His head dipped in a nod as he agreed. “Who’s taking point?”

>   “I will,” she said, drawing her weapon from the small of her back. Real holsters would be the first thing on her list to purchase. “People don’t expect a woman to lead.”

  The tiniest of smiles lifted his lips and about stopped her heart. “True.” His voice had been caramel before, through the headset, but now? It should be illegal.

  He armed himself and they pushed themselves through the door, clearing the hallway without drawing the attention of any shoppers who might be near the back of the store.

  As promised, the SUV was still in place in the alley, the laconic driver Harold behind the wheel.

  They settled in, weapons held at ease, but still at the ready, and Natalie realized that only half an hour had passed. It was barely past noon. Her stomach growled.

  Masters quirked his lip again, and she sent him a glare in response.

  “We didn’t eat this morning, we were too busy trying to escape.”

  He held up a hand. “You’re preaching to the choir. I could eat as well. But let’s scope out our wheels first.”

  She nodded and they spent the next few minutes in silence, as they drove further and further out into the country, until they stopped at a gate that had seen better days about a hundred years ago. Harold exited, swung the gate open on creaky hinges, then drove through.

  Down the rutted road, around a small hillock, a dilapidated barn stood beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree.

  Harold stopped the car and they all stepped out.

  He soundlessly led them to the barn, then opened the padlock and threw the doors open soundlessly. The gate was a ruse, a cover for the barn. For the RV and Jeep inside.

  Natalie walked in, considered both. They would do.

  As Mandy had said, the RV was older, but seemed to be in good repair. The faded red Jeep behind it had knobby tires and had been lifted enough that it’d do very well offroad, if it came to that.

  Behind them, Harold closed the door on the SUV, dropped a suitcase into the dirt and drove away.