“Yeah, in the fridge.”
After the coffee dripped in, Luc added the cream, stirred and carried the mug to the table to sit opposite Grayson. “How about that ibuprofen?”
The agent reached into the first-aid kit still sitting on the table and slid a two-pack of pills across to Luc, who broke the seal and downed the contents. “Thanks.”
“You were fortunate the bullet only winged your arm.”
“I know.” Luc stared into the mug as if the creamy liquid held the secret to getting his life back on track. Now that he’d found Priscilla, he had more questions, and the only answer he’d found was why she’d disappeared all those years ago.
“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Mac and Priscilla earlier.” Grayson regarded Luc over the rim of his mug before taking a sip and setting the mug on the table. “Mac’s top priority is keeping her safe, but he’s going to want details on how, exactly, you found her.”
Luc sighed. “You mean how I managed to track her down if she’s in witness protection?”
“Exactly.” Grayson tapped his fingers on the table. “So, how did you?”
“Are you playing good cop?” Luc scrubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath his fingers.
Grayson laughed. “Maybe, but you’ll have to tell us sooner or later.”
“And you’re saying it might as well be sooner.”
Grayson shrugged.
Luc considered, then shrugged himself. “Given you overheard my conversation with Mac and Priscilla, then you know my background in computer security.”
Grayson nodded. “You’re a hacker for the good guys, finding flaws in their computer security systems.”
Luc laughed. “That’s one way to put it. Along the way, I’ve made a lot of contacts with those who are not as concerned with who exactly are the good guys, as you put it. For some, it’s the challenge of the job that’s interesting, not the goal of the client or what the client will do with the information once the job’s completed.”
“In other words, you know some unethical people.”
“I like to think of it as keeping potential enemies on my good side.” Luc took another sip of coffee.
“Is there room for one more?” Priscilla spoke from behind him.
Luc twisted to see her standing in the doorway, fully dressed in clothes as wrinkled as his own. With her face scrubbed free of makeup and her long hair in a messy ponytail, she looked beautiful to Luc. Even her eyes were back to the blue he recalled—she must have removed her colored contact lenses. He didn’t care that he was staring—he had forgotten just how lovely she was.
“Sure.” Grayson answered her question. “If you want something hot, there are pods in the cabinet above the Keurig.”
Priscilla smiled her thanks. Luc admired her easy grace as she walked to the machine. She quickly made a cup and carried it to the kitchen table, easing into the chair to his left.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Luc wrapped his hands around his mug.
She smothered a yawn behind her hand. “After the day I’ve had, it’s not too surprising. I did manage to catch a few hours’ rest after dinner, but now I can’t get back to sleep.”
“What’s not surprising?” Mac entered the kitchen and headed straight to the Keurig.
“That we couldn’t sleep,” Luc supplied.
Glass shattered, accompanied by a whooshing sound. “Get down, now!” Mac shouted.
Luc dived out of his chair, his hand shooting out to grab Priscilla’s arm to tug her down after him. Luc pushed Priscilla under the table, his hand sliding down her arm to grasp her hand, just as an acrid scent permeated the house.
“The couch is on fire!” Mac yelled into his earpiece to alert the other marshals, then swung shut the kitchen door leading to the dining room before moving to the sink and turning on the faucet. He opened a drawer and yanked out a stack of kitchen towels.
Another crash indicated a second projectile had likely been thrown into the house.
“Put this under the door to buy us some time.” Mac tossed Luc a soaked kitchen towel.
Luc let go of Priscilla’s hand to catch the towel, then wedged the wet fabric into the crack at the bottom of the door. Once it dried, the smoke would seep into the room again.
“We have to get out of here! I’m going to check the back,” Grayson said, crawling to the back door.
“Be careful, Grayson!” Mac called as he handed Priscilla another soaked towel. “Tie this over your nose and mouth.”
Grayson slowly pulled open the door. Gunshots erupted and a torrent of bullets shredded the wooden door. Grayson crumpled to the floor in a pool of blood.
Mac shoved a wet towel into Luc’s hands, then dropped to his knees beside the downed marshal and placed his fingers on the man’s neck. His eyes met Luc’s. “He’s gone.” Mac swallowed hard, then tied his own wet towel over his mouth and nose.
A man was dead, and they would soon follow from smoke inhalation or fire. A little smoke filled the room already. Luc pressed the cold wetness against his nose and mouth as he tied the towel behind his head. Immediately, he breathed a little bit easier, but he could hear the fire roaring behind the kitchen. Priscilla huddled beside him. “Is there another way out?”
Mac’s face settled into grim lines. “We could try a back bedroom window.”
“There’s some kind of hatch underneath the rug in the hallway.” Priscilla’s eyes watered above her towel. “I tripped on the rug earlier tonight and saw it. Maybe it leads to a crawl space?”
“We can go through that door.” Luc pointed to the third entrance into the kitchen a few feet from the table. “I’ll check it first.” He moved to the door and placed his hand on the wood. Warmish, but not hot. “I think we might have a chance.”
Mac grabbed the fire extinguisher from the kitchen wall. “Priscilla, you stay back as Luc pulls open the door. I’ll spray the fire if it’s too close.”
Luc stood to turn the handle. It didn’t budge, possibly because the door wasn’t used as much as the swing-door entrance. He tried again, this time moving the handle enough to unlatch the door. Bracing his foot against the door frame, Luc tugged with all his might. His arm screamed in agony at the pressure, but the door popped open, nearly sending him tumbling across the kitchen floor.
Fire extinguisher brandished like a sword, Mac went into the hallway first, nearly duckwalking to keep low to the ground. “Come on!”
Priscilla crawled after him, turning to the right, Luc at her heels. She scrabbled to get the rug out of the way, and Luc cried with relief at the sight of a brass ring and the outline of a trapdoor.
He pulled up with his remaining strength, and the door gave way with a groan to reveal a dark space below. Above her own makeshift mask, Priscilla’s eyes widened. Luc touched her arm. “I’ll go first.”
“No, I’d better check it out.” Mac handed Luc the extinguisher. “Spray this at the fire right before you follow Priscilla.” Mac swung his legs over and jumped into the space. When he stood up in the opening, his shoulders and head were in the hallway. “It’s some sort of crawl space, not a real basement. Let’s go!”
Priscilla reached out and Mac put his hands around her waist to swing her down. Luc sprayed the fire extinguisher at the flames racing down the hallway, then joined them. The marshal closed the trapdoor behind him, shutting out the light, but not the smoke or roar of the fire.
As Mac shone his phone’s flashlight around the space, Luc saw that it was indeed a crawl space—a haven into which smoke was filtering at an alarming rate.
“Do you see an exit?” Luc focused his attention on examining the area as Mac illuminated their surroundings with a flashlight app.
Embers dropped down around them from the burning floor above, one of them singeing his cheek, but Luc’s attention fixated on the spot Mac’s
light had just passed over. “Shine it to the right again.” Mac complied. “There’s a narrow opening to the left of us.”
“Let’s move.” Mac gestured for Luc to go first, then Priscilla.
In tandem, they crawled in that direction, still using the rapidly drying towels to screen out smoke. Above the roar of the fire, sirens wailed. Maybe they would survive this night after all.
At the opening, Mac turned to Luc. “You go first to make sure it’s safe. I need to stick close to Priscilla. Help is coming, but we can’t wait here until it arrives. Be careful. We don’t know how many might be out there waiting for us.”
Luc pushed aside a few vines that covered the entrance and wriggled out from under the house. The heat from the fire told him they didn’t have much time. He scanned the area but saw no movement. Fire trucks roared up to the house. “I think it’s okay. Come on, Priscilla.”
She reached out her hand and Luc grasped it to assist her exit from the crawl space. Soon she was hiding in the bushes with him, waiting for Mac to emerge.
Once Mac joined them, he pointed to the backyard of the neighboring house that had a thatch of bamboo growing along the border. “Over there.”
Mac led the way as Luc and Priscilla followed close behind him. Once standing just inside the bamboo stand, Mac pulled out his phone, shielding the bright light with his body to avoid tipping off anyone watching the house. “I sent a text to let headquarters know what happened.”
Luc evaluated the burning house about fifteen feet away. Firefighters swarmed in the front yard, hoses spraying the flames with little success.
“We need to get moving.” Mac slipped his phone back into a pocket. “We’ll go through the backyards to the street on the other side. My boss is sending a car to pick us up there.”
Luc grabbed Priscilla’s hand. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to hold on to her, but he had to. She didn’t say a word or look in his direction as they dashed after Mac through the backyards, then through a side alleyway.
Mac halted at the corner, checking his phone again. “Our ride’s here.” An SUV pulled up to the alleyway’s entrance. Mac motioned for them to precede him to the vehicle. “Get in the back.”
Luc reached it first and opened the door. Priscilla slid inside, Luc right behind her. Mac slammed the door on the passenger side and the vehicle took off before anyone had their seat belt buckled.
“You okay?” A woman in her early thirties drove.
“It was a close one, Ilene.” Mac fixed his attention on his phone.
“There’s bottled water in the cup holders,” Ilene said, heading down the street.
Luc uncapped one of the bottles and took a long draw to soothe his parched throat. “Thanks.” He leaned toward Priscilla, who was recapping her bottle. “Hey,” he said softly, “how are you holding up?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been better, but I don’t think I’m really hurt. You?”
“Smoky, but in one piece.” Luc wanted to recapture her hand in his, but decided to listen to Ilene’s update to Mac instead.
“We’re heading to a clinic to check everyone out before driving to another safe location. One of the doctors we’ve worked with before is opening the clinic just for us.” Ilene turned left. “We should arrive in ten minutes.”
“Has it been checked out?” Mac questioned.
Ilene nodded. “A pair of agents are clearing it now, and it will be secure before we arrive.”
Luc rested his head against the seat, tired, dirty, but thankful to be alive. Since meeting up with Priscilla again, life had been anything but dull. As they drove down the street, Luc recalled that the burning house they’d just left had been cleared by marshals too.
SEVEN
The nurse in dark green scrubs with small red holiday wreaths, whose name Priscilla had already forgotten, reentered the curtained-off exam room. “I need to draw some blood to check your red blood cell count.”
Priscilla nodded and leaned back against the raised examining bed. She breathed in oxygen through a mask the nurse had placed on her earlier. The diminutive woman’s youthful appearance belied her competent manner. The nurse placed a squishy ball in Priscilla’s left hand, then fastened rubber tubing around her upper arm.
“Just a small prick now.”
Despite the fact that the nurse had hit the blood vessel spot-on, Priscilla winced as the needle entered her vein. Not wanting to see her blood being drawn, she closed her eyes.
Although her lungs were much better from the extra oxygen, her head still ached. She wanted to sleep for a full day, but that would be a long time coming. Once she, Mac and Luc had been checked out at the clinic, the marshals would take her and Luc to a new safe house.
“All done.” The nurse undid the tubing and removed the ball.
Priscilla opened her eyes, even though fatigue pulled at her eyelids and the drums in her head began a more up-tempo number.
“If you’ll hold this in place?” The nurse put a small piece of gauze over the needle.
“Sure.” Priscilla put her fingers over the gauze as the nurse slid the needle out.
“Okay, let me check.” The woman assessed the clotting, then replaced the gauze with a fresh square before wrapping it in place with green bandage tape. She made a notation on a clipboard and patted Priscilla’s hand. “You rest for a minute. The doctor’s taking a look at your friend’s arm. Then he’ll be in to see you.”
She nodded, but allowed her eyes to close as the nurse left the area. Maybe she could catch a few minutes’ sleep, despite the pounding in her head. But while her body sagged after the adrenaline rush of escaping a burning house, her mind raced with thoughts about being married to Luc. How could she be married to a man she didn’t remember meeting? They must have met and wed within a four-or five-hour time period. She had never been that impulsive in her life. Luc hadn’t said anything about love at first sight either. Why had he married a complete stranger?
Granted, strange things happened in Vegas. She’d grown up an only child in a close suburb with a stay-at-home mother and a father who brought back tales of the city’s seedier side from his observations as a beat cop. Priscilla had worked in the casinos since she turned eighteen—the best-paid job she could find with a high school diploma—and she had seen firsthand what alcohol, gambling and an atmosphere of “anything goes” could produce. Even though Mac hadn’t confirmed the marriage, Priscilla didn’t think Luc had been lying. What their being married meant, she couldn’t contemplate. Not when she was running for her life.
The sound of the curtain being pulled back penetrated her consciousness, and Priscilla pried open her eyes. A baby-faced man with curly dark hair and rimless glasses stepped in, a stethoscope looped around his neck.
As he tugged the curtain back in place, he said, “Hi, I’m Doctor Collins. How are you feeling?”
Priscilla removed the oxygen mask. “Better, but my throat hurts, my eyes are itchy, and my head aches a lot.”
“Smoke inhalation will do that to a person. Let’s have a listen to your lungs and heart.” Dr. Collins put his stethoscope against her chest. “Take slow breaths, not too deep.”
Priscilla breathed as instructed.
“Your lungs sound clear, and your heart rate is within the normal limit.” Dr. Collins put his stethoscope into his lab coat pocket. “On a scale of one to ten, where does your headache fall?”
“Nine maybe? It’s sliding into the migraine realm.” Priscilla pressed her temples as the pounding morphed into jackhammering inside her skull.
“That’s because of the carbon dioxide you inhaled.” He poked his head out and called for assistance. Priscilla expected the younger nurse to return, but this time, an older woman wearing dark green scrubs with little dogs romping around on the smock entered the cubicle.
“Martha, would you please bring me 600 milligrams of ibuprofen and a
bronchodilator inhaler?” Dr. Collins requested.
The nurse nodded and disappeared.
Dr. Collins turned back to Priscilla. “The ibuprofen should take care of your headache, and the bronchodilator will ease the muscles around your airways to relieve any coughing or shortness of breath you may experience because of the smoke inhalation. The best thing for you is to rest, though. Any questions?”
“When should I use the inhaler?” Priscilla hoped she wouldn’t have to use it at all.
“It’s a precaution in case you start coughing more later on tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Or this morning, as it’s now 2:00 a.m.”
“I only use the inhaler if I cough a lot.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” She wanted to ask about Mac and Luc, but the man smiled at her, then left the cubicle before she could.
Martha returned with a pill cup in one hand and cup of water in the other. “Here you go.”
Priscilla smiled her thanks and tossed back the tablets, then drained the water. “Are Mac and Luc ready to go?”
The nurse shrugged and took back both cups. “I don’t know. I’ll check.”
“That would be great.”
As the woman left the cubicle, she drew the curtain partially closed.
“Priscilla? Can I come in?” Luc’s voice had a scratchy tone to it, but he sounded much more upbeat than she felt.
“Yes.”
The curtain twitched and Luc poked his head around, then entered the cubicle. “How are you feeling?” He sported a scrubbed face, loose navy scrubs, and a fresh white bandage on his upper left arm poking out from under the short sleeve.
Priscilla slid off the bed and steadied herself against the railing. “Like I breathed in a ton of smoke. How about you?” She assessed him, noting the tired lines around his eyes and damp hair.
“The doctor let me shower. Then he rebandaged my arm.”
“You got a shower? I’m jealous.” She picked at her soot-covered jeans. “Maybe I can grab one too.”
Mac joined Luc in the cubicle. “I think that can be arranged.” He too was dressed in borrowed scrubs, a bandage on his forehead where he had scraped it during their escape from the crawl space. “Ilene’s scrounging up something for you to wear. Then she’ll stand guard while you get cleaned up.”
Dangerous Christmas Memories Page 5