Beholden

by Pat Warren

  “I don’t know how you managed to get past that and still… still trust men.”

  “I don’t trust very many of them. It takes me awhile. But I can’t judge all men by that one jerk.” She hoped her words were sinking in. “As they say, sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you. That’s life.” She turned and started back down the mountain.

  The hike back was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they rounded the final curve and the cabin came into sight that Luke’s internal antenna picked up the scent of danger. He stopped, moving Terry behind him with one arm as his gaze swept the property perimeters.

  “What is it?” she asked, her heart beginning to pound.

  A small wisp of smoke was still curling out of the chimney from the fire they’d built earlier. A light they’d left on in the front window was still burning. Dusk had deepened the shadows and a chill wind rustled the surrounding tree leaves and bushes. The van was still parked in the drive exactly as he’d left it, the fence gate closed.

  “Something’s not right,” he whispered, reaching for the Luger he’d brought along as double insurance. Removing the safety, he started down. “Stay close behind me.”

  She did, unable to see around his wide shoulders but glad to have him as her shield. Please, not again, she prayed.

  They were some ten yards from the fence line when Luke spotted what had set his senses on alert. His eyes scanning in all directions, he inched closer. He stopped near the gate and stared down at the deathly still Doberman, blood oozing from a wound in his head.

  “Oh, God!” Terry gasped, peering around him. “Someone’s shot Prince.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Gun drawn, Luke quickly unlocked and examined the van. It was clean. He helped a trembling Terry inside and handed her his .38. “I’m going into the house. If you need to use this, do it.” He studied her face. She looked stunned, but he could see that she understood. “Lock the door after me.” He stepped out.

  Moving cautiously, he went to the front door and listened. Not a sound. He entered, shoving back the door, assuming a shooting stance. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. One by one, he searched the rooms, the closets, everywhere. Nothing disturbed. Hands on his hips, he looked around. The whole thing was very odd.

  Perhaps Prince had been killed by someone other than the men after Terry. They hadn’t heard shots, but then they’d been some distance away. Still, the sound of gunfire usually carried a long way. Professionals used silencers. Hunters wouldn’t. Could have been a stray bullet from a man hunting quail or wild pheasant. But he couldn’t take the chance.

  It took him minutes to gather up their things and carry them to the van. Because of the frequency of relocating, they’d learned to travel light. Still, it was dusk by the time he had the van loaded and ready to roll. Terry was belted in the passenger seat, though her nerves were in evidence and she still held the .38.

  As Luke pulled past the first bluff, he glanced up the hillside where the only other house they’d seen for miles around was situated. In a shaft of light from the open garage door, he noticed the same man in overalls that he’d seen before standing watching them, the long barrel of his gun resting over his forearm, his expression unreadable at this distance. Prince had done quite a bit of barking, especially nights when wild rabbits and squirrels could be heard scurrying just outside the fence line. Could that cantankerous neighbor have waited until he and Terry had left the house, crept down the hill, and shot the dog because the barking had gotten on his nerves?

  They’d probably never know, Luke decided as he shifted into gear and started down the road.

  Once they reached the highway, he swung north, wondering where on earth he should go. Maybe the best thing to do at this late hour would be to drive to some small town, find a hotel and check in, then call Jones. It might take some time to find another safe house. It wasn’t as though there were dozens in California, and they’d already been to three.

  Luke scanned the cars in the light traffic and saw nothing suspicious. Noticing that Terry still held the .38 in a death grip, he ran the possibility of the neighbor shooting Prince by her to ease her mind.

  She didn’t buy it. “Why would he do such a thing? He’d never even come to the door and asked us to keep our dog quiet.”

  “He didn’t look like the polite type.” To his trained eye, any search of the inside of the cabin would have been detected. Besides, if the Russo thugs had found them, they wouldn’t have silenced the dog, then taken off. They’d have stayed around, knowing that the occupants wouldn’t be far from the place without the van. Shooting them on that remote mountainside when they returned wouldn’t have presented a problem to trained killers. With silencers, no one in that isolated neighborhood would have been the wiser for days, perhaps weeks. Not until Jones would have called to check on them.

  With each passing mile, Luke became more convinced that he’d reacted to an old man’s mean justice rather than any real threat. No matter. They were probably better off out of that garish cabin. It was time for a change. The problem was he knew of nothing available without calling in and having Bob set something up. When they were settled somewhere, he’d make another effort to convince Terry that they’d not been in any real danger.

  His mind racing, Luke drove carefully. Maybe he should consider driving to a slightly larger city, where there’d be more people. The old adage about getting lost in a crowd still worked. Up ahead was the turnoff from Highway 1 to 101 that wound inland heading north. Numerous cities could be reached from that route. He’d choose one that seemed particularly crowded.

  On the road to San Jose, he slowed the van. The little town of Beachside was hosting some sort of a winter festival, with banners flying and billboards urging residents and visitors to attend opening ceremonies on the upcoming weekend. There would be marching bands, amusement rides, booths offering crafts for sale, and a huge potluck supper.

  Exactly the type of local diversion he’d been seeking, Luke thought as he spotted the Seafarer Inn up ahead. Now if only they had a vacant room with twin beds. He was greatly relieved to get rid of that damn satin couch and more than ready to stretch out on a real bed.

  “I think we’ll check in here, then call Bob and update him,” he explained to Terry as he pulled the van into the inn’s parking lot. She’d turned her thoughts inward on the drive and hadn’t spoken a word. But he saw her turn toward him now, looking confused.

  “Here?” She saw the crowds of people milling around on the streets, window-shopping, licking ice-cream cones, jostling one another. It was cool, but clear and pleasant, a nice evening for strolling. Yet every face looked suspicious to her, every person posing a threat. “I thought we were going someplace away from people, where they couldn’t find us so easily.”

  “There’s safety in numbers.” He took the gun from her and put it in his waistband. “Come with me to the front desk.” He hopped down and went around to open her door.

  Adjusting her wig, Terry stepped down, wondering how many more places they’d have to stay in before she could go home.

  “I’ve got a gut feeling the dog was killed by someone other than Russo’s boys,” Luke said into the phone. Seated in a captain’s chair at a small desk in the nautically decorated room they’d been given, he glanced over at Terry already curled up on the twin bed against the far wall. For her benefit as much as to inform Bob Jones, he went into great detail about searching the house they’d vacated and finding it undisturbed and of the odd neighbor up the hill with a gun.

  “I can’t be certain, of course,” he wound up, “but I don’t believe that if Russo’s men had tracked us that far, that they’d have left until they’d gotten us, too.”

  “That sounds plausible,” Bob said from his home in Phoenix. He had a private secure line that only his agents used. “However, I do have an upsetting piece of news for you.”

  “Go ahead,” Luke said, revealing nothing by his expression since T
erry was watching him.

  “Nick Russo gave our tail the slip. We believe he’s in California.”

  “Along with the other one?”

  They were used to one another, of speaking in coded phrases. “We’re not sure where Ozzie Swain is, although he might be. He hasn’t been spotted since this all began. Something else you should know. Our man trailed Nick to Sedona last week. He asked around and located your house. Our man visited with one of your neighbors who told him that he’d talked with the fellow in the picture he was shown, and he’d told the man that the new owner of the ranch had been there remodeling all summer, then left abruptly and hasn’t been back in weeks.”

  “Shit.” The oath was out before he could check it. He turned his back to Terry. “How the hell did he pick up the scent?”

  “Nick’s a lot of things—cocky, brash, unpredictable. But he can be cool under pressure when the need arises. We know the Russos have a lot of connections. Once they knew the Feds were on the scene, they took things to their logical conclusion. I also have a feeling that Nick wants to finish the job he started on you.”

  “The feeling’s mutual. Well, forewarned and all that. He may not recognize me. The beard’s back. Unless the neighbor told him that, too.”

  He might have guessed he’d let himself go shaggy, Bob thought. Luke had always disliked the clean-cut look. “How’s Terry holding up?”

  “All right. Some days better than others.” He kept his voice low, chose his words carefully.

  “I have a suggestion, one I doubt Terry’s going to like. But we’ve discussed it at this end and we agree that it’s the best shot she has. I can set it up along with another safe house if she agrees.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “You mentioned she needs more corrective plastic surgery. We feel she should give serious consideration to allowing the doctor to alter her features somewhat. I talked to a doctor here. It can be subtle, yet cause a dramatic difference. Change the cheekbones, adjust the angle of the jaw, alter the nose a bit. Then with a good wig and colored contacts, she’ll look like a different person. If you’re bearded and wearing Western clothes, which I assume you are, staying in the rural places you’ve been, you’d both have a different look.”

  Yes, but his changes could be shaved off in minutes and hers would be permanent. He’d seen pictures of Terry before her accident. She’d been lovely, with high cheekbones, big blue eyes and beautiful blond hair. Except for the shorter hair and the two small scars, she was lovely now. He was certain she could hardly wait to get back to being exactly as she once was.

  “I don’t know, Bob.” Terry hadn’t even wanted to discuss the minor surgery required to remove the two remaining scars on her face. Despite Bob’s assessment, the procedure he was suggesting sounded pretty major to Luke. And probably fairly painful. Terry had already been through so much pain, and her mental state was still very fragile.

  “We can’t force her to do it, of course,” Bob said into the silence. “You know I hate to even have to suggest it. But we want her alive and this is her best chance.”

  “It’s a long shot.”

  “Well, see what you can do to persuade her. Meanwhile, I’ll get in touch with the doctor I have in mind up that way. You feel you’ll be okay at the inn for a day or two?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. I have a safe house up near Truckee that I feel would be perfect for Terry’s recovery. I’ll set it up. I can even call Sara Baines and send her up to help.”

  “No, don’t do that. We can manage.”

  Luke had nixed the nurse quickly. Too quickly. Bob hesitated, wondering if he sensed a problem. “Is everything all right otherwise?” he asked, his tone solemn and questioning.

  Luke bit back a sharp retort. “Yeah, everything’s just dandy.”

  Tanner was getting touchy. Not a good sign. As soon as Terry’s surgery was over, he’d make it a point to pay them both a visit, Jones decided. “The trial won’t take place until either the end of this month or sometime next.” He could almost feel Luke’s frustration ripple over the phone lines.

  “Swell.”

  “Call me tomorrow. Hopefully you can talk her into the surgery. I’ll have more answers for you then.”

  “Right.” Luke hung up and scrubbed a hand over his bearded chin. How in hell was he going to get her to agree?

  He swung around to face her and saw that she’d heard every word and, while she didn’t know what Jones had said, she knew something was up. Bracing himself, he walked over to sit across from her on the other bed.

  “No!” Terry swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. She’d listened quietly while Luke had detailed his conversation with Bob Jones. She hadn’t reacted externally, hadn’t yelled or sworn as she’d wanted to. Now she faced him just as calmly. “I don’t care what you and Bob and the entire marshals office suggest. I won’t go through any more extensive surgery. Period.”

  Her quiet anger went deep, he knew. Luke couldn’t blame her. But it was his job to convince her, for her own safety’s sake.

  “This isn’t just a whimsical suggestion, Terry.”

  At her sides, her hands curled in the bedclothes. “No, it’s a command cloaked in gentle words and for-your-own-good reassurances. But it’s a command nonetheless.”

  “No, it isn’t. The truth is, we can’t make you do this. I’m trying to explain that it’s in your best interest to change your looks just slightly so that you’ll be more difficult to recognize.”

  “That’s bullshit!” She rose and began pacing. “All that pain and helplessness to be changed into something I’m not. And for what? For a couple of weeks. Then I testify and what becomes of me? I’m no longer who I was.” She stopped near him, her eyes filled with anguish. “I’ve already lost so much. How can you ask me to give up even more of my identity?”

  He went to her, took her hands in his. “No one can change what you are, Terry. If the accident had marred your face beyond recognition and they’d have had to reconstruct it from scratch, you’d still be you. Your face doesn’t define you.” He softened because he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. That’s why I’m asking you to seriously consider this.”

  “I thought you said you could protect me. I thought you asked me to trust you. I did and now you want more. Have you all gotten mixed up? I’m not the criminal here. I’m a victim and I’ve paid enough!” Tears she’d fought to control all but choked her.

  “All right, all right.” Despite everything that told him he shouldn’t, he reached for her and gathered her close.

  Her body was almost rigid with tension, her fingers bunching in the material of his shirt as she struggled not to give in to her need to cry out her frustration. He didn’t understand. No one understood.

  His hands caressed her back, trying to soothe her. “I was only trying to protect you in the best way I knew how, but I can see now that it was a mistake.” He felt awkward in the face of her torment, uncertain what to do. “Forget it.” She was small and vulnerable. He hated what all this was doing to her. “We’ll be all right.”

  He meant well. She believed that. But the powers that be were incapable of seeing things as she did, and Luke had to follow their orders. There was only one way to handle this. She should have known it would come to this.

  She longed to give in, to let him hold her, let him make love to her so she could forget everyone and everything. She’d had one taste of him and knew he could distract her as no one before him had. But she couldn’t remain in his arms. It would be too easy to allow his comfort to trigger the desire always there, making her restless and needy. She was so damn tired of being needy.

  Terry moved out of his hold and turned, walking to the window. Two stories below, people were still wandering the streets, people with no life-threatening problems, no men with guns searching them out. Carefree, laughing, uncomplicated people with happy lives. Like she once had been.

  “Maybe Bob J
ones is right,” she said softly. “Maybe the only way this nightmare will end is if I just do what he says. I told myself when I woke up in that Phoenix hospital that I’d do whatever was necessary to make sure the men who caused Lynn’s death and murdered Don Simon in cold blood were put away. I told myself I could stand anything as long as I knew it would one day be over.” Slowly, she turned around and met his eyes. “You can tell Bob I’ll do it.”

  The abrupt turnabout worried Luke, but he didn’t let her see. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to do anything you feel isn’t right.”

  “I’m sure I’m doing what’s right for me at this time.” She covered her flushed cheeks with both hands. They felt warm to the touch. “I hope I’m not coming down with something.”

  Luke frowned. This was no time for her to get sick. “Why don’t you lie down? You look tired. I think I’ll grab a quick shower. I feel a little grungy. After your nap, we can go get something to eat.”

  Terry gave in to a yawn. “All right.” She’d slipped off her shoes earlier. Now, she pulled back the covers and slid under. She felt cold all over, yet her face was on fire. She closed her eyes, wanting to blot out the world.

  Luke took his time in the bathroom, letting her rest. This ambivalence she was feeling was probably related to the stress disorder, he realized. He only hoped that later she wouldn’t regret changing her mind about the surgery.

  Stepping back into the bedroom, he saw that she was lying as before, only she’d put on her Walkman headset. Music seemed to calm her frayed nerves. From the dresser, he gathered his loose change and wallet, put on his watch and grabbed his jacket. It was eight in the evening and his stomach was reminding him it was long past dinnertime. He walked to her side and touched her arm.

  Terry’s eyes flew open and she removed the headset.

  “Time to get up and get something to eat,” Luke told her. “You can rest more afterward.”

  She shivered. “I’m not that hungry. You go ahead.”