The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  It was time to leave but hard to do. As much as she’d wanted to get out of the room, now she wanted to stay, despite the presence of her gnarly roommate. She considered the pros and cons of barricading herself in. A pity the cons outweighed the pros. Grady had more men and more guns than she did. And that was just the stuff she knew about. He could have tear gas or some other icky knock-out stuff he could toss in.

  No, the fly didn’t wait in the web for the spider to find her.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door. The short hall was empty, a bit murky without its own light. Everything seemed quiet. She slipped out and closed the door behind her. The key gave her a little trouble, since she couldn’t bring herself to put her gun down. Her nerves were jumping and her fingers felt thick and clumsy, but finally it clicked into place. She considered keeping the key, but her goal was to deceive and delay. A missing key would be an immediate heads up that something was wrong. She hung it up, but before she could turn, she heard the creak of footsteps behind her.

  “Oh, good idea, Ray,” a male voice said. “Grady ain’t gonna like it that you messed with the girl.”

  Amelia stared at the wood. Her shoulders twitched, the movement not unlike a shrug. She slipped the silenced automatic clear of the holster and eased off the safety.

  “You won’t be so cool when he shoots your nuts off, man.” He wheezed a couple of times, then said, “So, how was she? Think I could have a go, too?”

  Amelia found fear fading in a wave of disgust. Jeez, did any of them have an original thought to rub together? Or anything beyond the most basic of human instincts? Without stopping to think, she spun to face him, bringing the pistol up once she was clear.

  “Actually, she kicked his ass,” Amelia said. “And now she’s thinking of shooting your nuts off.”

  He lost all his color. It seemed he valued his nuts more than his life. Trembling, he raised his hands.

  “Didn’t mean no harm.”

  “Right.” Amelia shook her head. “Is there somewhere I can put you that you can’t get out of? Otherwise, I’ll have to kill you.”

  My goodness she sounded tough. Course she had just kicked Ray’s ass. Well, the general region of his ass.

  He lowered one hand and opened a closet door.

  “Leave the hardware,” Amelia said, using the carbine to punctuate the order. “And don’t make a sound. Bullets penetrate wood.”

  He dropped it all with a clatter and stepped inside. “Same key locks it.”

  In a moment, she had him secured. She looked through his gear, taking anything else she thought might be useful, then hiding the remainder in the other bedroom at the end of the hall.

  Her impulse was to creep downstairs but furtive would look suspicious. She had to be Ray, or something like him. She straightened her shoulders. Think military, Amelia. She stepped forward, using what she hoped was a military swagger. The boots helped. So did the clothes.

  There was no one downstairs, but as she reached the main door, the darkness outside was cut with the searchlight and the sound of a chopper. Was Grady back?

  * * * *

  Grady instructed the pilot to land the chopper at the lower camp. He wasn’t ready to bring Phagan into the upper camp. There was something about him that made him uneasy, despite the instant sense of liking.

  “Keep the motor running,” he directed. He and Phagan jumped out and started toward a huddle of buildings. The men were hunkered down for the night. No sign of the hidden watchers as he led Phagan toward his office. Inside he bee-lined for the bar set up against one wall. It had been damn cold in the chopper.

  “What’ll you have?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Phagan had stopped in the doorway, his gaze moving unhurriedly around the room. “Uh, beer if you have it.”

  “In the kitchen, through that door.” He nodded to the right. “Won’t warm you up as good as this stuff.” He held up the whiskey.

  “Don’t expect to ever get warm again,” Phagan said mildly, before disappearing into the kitchen. In a moment, he returned with a cold one.

  Grady gestured to a seat on one side of the desk, then sat down, and studied his new guest as his new guest studied him. Phagan wasn’t what Grady expected, even though he was. It was a strange feeling. Maybe it was because he was too much like what he’d expected. You never really expect to get what you expect. Not in the real world. Maybe it was because he’d been hoping for something more…unique. His reputation sure as hell was. Beyond geek.

  He’d been clean though. His men had picked his clothes clean while they made their slow way to the camp, then let him know. So why the prickling on the back of his neck? Was it from the geek? Or somewhere else?

  Phagan broke eye contact, his conclusions his own, as he looked around again. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

  “And what were you expecting?” Grady asked him.

  He shrugged ruefully. “Damned if I know. Maybe the Unabomber with a brain? Or a stainless steel super criminal empire.”

  Grady chuckled, but also felt he’d heard those words before? Or something like them? The eerie echo of his own thoughts should have reassured him. They didn’t, but they should have. Phagan was saying all the right things, doing all the right things. Very cool. Very relaxed. Phagan got up and peered at an elk head above the fireplace. This view of his profile triggered something. A feeling of recognition, maybe?

  “We haven’t met, have we?” Grady asked. He believed in the direct approach, where possible.

  Phagan looked at him, his light brows arching in surprise. “I don’t think so. I don’t meet many people.”

  Grady got up. “Then I’ve seen you somewhere.”

  “I don’t get out much either. And never get photographed.” He shrugged. “They say we all have a twin out there somewhere.”

  “Shit, I hope not.” Grady sipped his drink. Hadn’t even blinked. Should he blink? It was hard to say. Most geeks he’d met had no social skills at all. All their energy, all their brain power went to the hack. Was that what was making him twitch? “You do good work. The run on Merryweather was flawless.”

  “Merryweather?” Phagan looked down his beer can. “That’s who it was. You do wonder.” He took a drink. “Let’s see. Biotech company. Doing some interesting stuff in protective armor. Doesn’t seem like your thing, man. Like, anti-green, isn’t it?”

  “I’m a curious guy. It’s a curse.”

  Phagan’s smile was slow, but curiously charming. For the first time, Grady had a feeling that he’d met someone he could actually like. Maybe even respect. But could he trust him? It was time to find out.

  “I’ve got a meeting with someone who can ease my curiosity. Want to come along? I think you’ll find her quite as interesting as I do.”

  Phagan shrugged. “Was just thinking the other day that I need to get out more. Meet some people.”

  Grady laughed. “Well, you came to the right place.”

  Phagan stood up, but before they could leave, the phone rang.

  “Yeah?” Grady said into the receiver.

  “We got trouble, boss. Leslie Merryweather just flew in on a chopper.”

  “Damn. I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

  “Trouble?”

  He looked at Phagan. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  * * * *

  As Amelia hesitated inside the door, the chopper landed in the clearing. There was another exit out of the cabin, she recalled, but this might be the only opportunity for her. The chopper was blowing snow around, it was dark and cold. Be natural for someone to wait for it. And maybe she could hitch a ride on it. The pilot wouldn’t be expecting to be hijacked.

  She pulled the hat down, tucking the flaps under the chin to disguise its shape. She pulled on the snow goggles and the gloves, then opened the door and plunged into a night that was a mix of light and dark. The cold bit into her lungs, and she gasped for breath. Had to be close to zero out here. The lining of her nasal passages crisped
and her clothing stiffened. A cloud of snow billowed in her face, forcing her to look away, even as she jogged toward the chopper. Before she could get close enough, the chopper’s engine roared as it lifted off again, turning its light up and away, then shutting it off. Guess she was going to have to do this the hard way.

  As her view cleared, she saw a single figure remained in the clearing, staggering a couple of times as he turned toward the cabin and her. It wasn’t Grady, but he looked familiar.

  “Where’s Grady?” he shouted. “Is he inside?”

  Amelia shook her head. The chopper had retreated enough that she could say, while trying to make her voice as deep as possible, “He left.”

  The man was bundled up, but his face was bare. Handsome but weak, with something in the eyes that reminded her of Ray. She knew him, but from where?

  She started to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. “Where’s the girl?”

  Amelia froze. Couldn’t stop her pulse from doing a jump to light speed.

  “Inside.”

  “Show me,” he said.

  Amelia’s first instinct was to refuse, but she knew any sign of panic now would spell her doom. There were men out there watching. Grady hadn’t taken her into the lookout bunkers, but he’d pointed out the passageways below ground, and she’d seen the bunker’s layout on the map during her tour. Thanks to her photographic brain, she could probably give her own tour now. She wanted to get away from here before Grady came back.

  Which did nothing to help her with her current problem. If she could get him inside, she could use her gun again. She nodded and turned back to the door. The guy waited for her to open it. Must think he was important. With her back to him, she got the pistol ready again. Inside, her goggles fogged over as the warm air hit them. She lifted them. Her eyes watered from the change in temperature. She blinked them and found the newcomer wasn’t looking at her. His avid gaze scoured the room. He’d brought with him the smell of something feral. Something slimy and evil.

  Where?”

  “Upstairs,” Amelia said, glad it wasn’t really so. This was not a guy to be left alone with.

  “Show me,” he said again.

  With a sigh, Amelia led him toward the stairs, trying to remember to walk like a soldier. His eagerness, his lust, reached past her, the brush with evil sending a chill down her spine. Unlike Grady, this guy wasn’t interested in what was inside her head. They didn’t meet anyone and she couldn’t see anyone in any of the rooms. Maybe they were all down in the bunker?

  “How long will Grady be gone?”

  Amelia shrugged. She didn’t want to try out her voice in the quiet. It might not hold up to scrutiny.

  “How long has he been gone?” he sounded impatient now.

  Great. “About an hour,” she said, gruffly and with crossed fingers. She stopped in front of the door she’d only just left, slipping the pistol clear of the pocket on the side away from him. If the guy in the closet made a sound, the situation could go south quickly.

  She released the safety, covering the small click with the sound of the key sliding in the lock. It turned easily this time. Odd how steady her hands were now, when danger threatened. She pushed the door open and stood back to let him enter. The room was much as she’d left it. Ray was still under the blanket.

  He stopped, a smile curling the edges of his mouth that chilled her blood more surely than the winter air. He moved forward lightly licking his lips in anticipation.

  She brought her gun up, her hand steady as a rock.

  He pulled the blanket back, growling in frustrated rage as he turned toward her. His hand reached for his back and what she assumed was a weapon, but he stopped when he saw the gun trained on him.

  “Get it. Two fingers. Drop it and kick it toward me or I take out your manhood,” Amelia said. She was a quick study on male motivation.

  Despite the rage in his eyes, he paled and did as she asked. She kicked it out the door without taking her eyes off him. Now what? How did one back off from a rattlesnake, she wondered.

  He must have sensed her uncertainty. He smiled again. She supposed there was charm in it, but it had no effect on her. She’d seen beneath the surface.

  “Well, aren’t you the clever girl, Miss Prudence,” he said. “Not just a filing cabinet, after all.”

  She knew that voice. A flash of memory produced his face, too. It came accompanied by a stab of pain. She’d felt like this before. Felt this odd mix of interest and unease. She didn’t strain for the name this time and it came to her.

  “Leslie.” She didn’t know how or why, but she could feel whatever was holding her memory out of contact begin to crack. It hadn’t burst yet, but it was ready. It bulged, like a dam under siege. She knew two things with perfect clarity. It was going to be bad. And she needed to be away from Leslie when it went. The flood could sweep away her control of the situation.

  “I hate to lock you up and run, but I do want to be out of here before Grady comes back. I’m sure you understand,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded with her insides roiling like a volcano.

  He took a half step toward her and she brought the gun up sharply, directly in his face.

  “I wouldn’t. You know that I know how to use this.” Did he?

  Apparently he did. He stopped. But he was poised to strike. She stepped back, feeling for the door with her free hand.

  “Did Grady tell you what we did to your old man?” he said, as if he sensed that upping the pressure might break the situation his way.

  Amelia felt the tremor deep inside. She had to get out now.

  “I don’t have time—”

  “I killed him. He was still alive when you left the hospital, but he’s dead now.” He smiled again, but this time it wasn’t pretty or charming. “Your father—”

  At the word “father”, the first piece of her memory dam burst free of restraint. Her whole body contracted from the pain that accompanied it.

  A gunshot. The recoil in her arm. The pain in her wrist. A cry from Leslie.

  Through waves of pain, she saw something red splatter on the log walls. Leslie sank to his knees, a surprised expression on his face.

  “I’ll be damned. The mouse has claws—” He fell slowly forward, sprawling face down on the wooden floor. Almost immediately a pool of blood began to form near one shoulder.

  Memory pushed harder. She pushed back, but control was tenuous. The opening widened. More memories slipped out. She was in an ambulance, looking down at a gray, aesthetic face. Instead of a siren, she heard chop, chop, chop.

  Was it a chopper? No, there was a chopper coming in. Her vision narrowed to a murky tunnel as she turned away from the present and the past.

  Must be Grady. She had to get out before her head exploded. She turned and ran from the room with her memories on her heels.

  NINETEEN

  Dewey hadn’t been joking when he said he didn’t think he’d ever be warm again. The cold had taken up permanent residence in the marrow of his bones. It had, he decided, as much to do with who he was with as the punishing cold of the winter night.

  Grady was an interesting character. Interesting, even charming on the outside. Soulless on the inside. The cold came from him. Like an icy fog, it oozed out of him and wrapped around anyone near him. Its purpose seemed to be the freezing out all sense of right and wrong. It sought to store his conscience in the deep freeze.

  Dewey could feel it working on him. There was such a sense of unreality that it was easy to feel disconnected from what was real and right. He’d felt this before. He’d danced on the edge of evil for many years, working to take down some very nasty people. Grady’s evil wasn’t as malignant as some he’d met, but it was by far the most pragmatic. He was more frightening in some ways. Because he was so brisk and practical, he seemed reasonable, even logical. He didn’t ask for the leap into the abyss from his followers. No, he just invited them to join him in hell one step at a time.

  Dewey always managed to
find the funny-pathetic in the evil he’d taken on. It helped him keep stuff in perspective, made it easier to dance on that edge, but this time he wasn’t smiling. As the chopper cut its way through the night sky, he hung on, not just to the strap, but to the memory of Bryn. She was his fixed point in this slightly askew world he now found himself in.

  In his mind, he reached out to her, taking this short moment of privacy to plunge into the memory pool of their one night together. He’d dreamed about it for so long, it almost didn’t seem real that she’d been his, to touch, to kiss, to whisper all the things he’d wanted to tell her as his hands touched her silken skin. Their mutual exploration had been heady and fun, as they’d let instinct, not experience, guide them in bringing their bodies together.

  Caught in Grady’s web, he could feel his usual confidence ebbing on the icy flow of Grady’s personality. His confidence was so complete, it sucked not just Dewey’s confidence, but seem to suck the life out of the air around him.

  The chopper dipped, bringing him back to the present with a jolt. The spotlight blazed from the base of the chopper, lighting up their landing zone. A shadowy cabin stood just outside the circle of light. In front of it, a couple of heavily armed men in winter camouflage waited for the chopper to land.

  The chopper touched down. Grady signaled for Dewey to follow him. With his senses screaming a warning, Dewey jumped down, feeling he was right back where they’d started. They’d done the cabin scene already. Didn’t the guy have something new in his bag of tricks? His head down, he jogged after Grady. Behind them, the chopper lifted off again. He followed it with his eyes.

  “Satellites would pick it up if I left it here,” Grady shouted over the whip of the blades, answering Dewey’s unspoken question. “I like to keep this place low key.”

  One of the men opened the door for them. Inside, warmth closed around them without warming him. In the fairy tale, the villain was an ice queen, he remembered. Maybe she’d had a sex change. A quick glance showed him a pleasant place, but like its creator, it lacked a soul. The two men who followed them in were simple thugs, the kind of men that people like Grady needed to do their dirty work for them.