Fire on the Moon

by Rebecca York

  The car’s seat-belt warning system was now protesting frantically, and he buckled up. She did the same. Before he could start up again, he saw a black sedan coming up behind them fast. With a jerk, he pulled away, executing the same sort of maneuvers that he’d used before, only this time he went down a private drive onto a property that he knew had another entrance around the corner.

  It flashed through his mind that he’d been had. What if Francesca had arranged for him to rescue her, and now she’d arranged for these guys to find her again. He scuttled that thought as soon as it had surfaced. She looked like she was in a panic as she twisted around to see behind them.

  “How did they find us?”

  “I’d like to know. But if they did it so quickly, they can do it again.” He kept driving, sometimes taking one of the main avenues and sometimes turning onto cross streets, driving as fast as he dared and looking for some kind of traffic situation that would foul up the guys in the SUV. He saw nothing helpful on the major streets or in the neighborhoods. Switching tactics, he headed for the upscale shopping area along Third Street. Although it was still early, a lot of people were out, both on foot and in cars, probably headed for popular breakfast spots. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw that the black car hadn’t caught up to them. And ahead, the road was clogged with traffic. More cars were heading for what had turned into a traffic jam. Just before he would have been trapped in the crush, he veered into one of the landscaped parking lots in back of a strip of shops and restaurants. On the street behind him, more cars joined the pileup, blocking the entrance to the lot.

  Stopping in a drop-off area, he made sure they were still in the clear before turning to Francesca, “Did your uncle give you anything?” he demanded. “Something you still have with you?”

  “Why?”

  “The men who showed up at my house knew where to find us, and they’ve stayed on our tail.”

  “Then why are we stopping here?”

  “Because I bought us a few minutes,” I hope, he silently added. But he was already plotting two steps ahead.

  The panic on her face increased. “He. . . he gave me this.” She reached for a gold chain around her neck and pulled out what looked like an antique locket hanging from it.”

  Zane held out his hand. “Let’s see it.”

  As she lifted the chain over her head, he kept sweeping his gaze through the lot. When she handed him the jewelry, he turned it over and looked at the back. It was flat but with an indentation running all around the edge.

  “I think that backing comes off,” he told her.

  He reached into his pocket for a multipurpose knife. Selecting the screwdriver blade, he handed the pendant back to Francesca, along with the blade. Before the black car could get through the traffic jam and into the parking lot, he drove to the other end and onto the cross street, heading for the water.

  Francesca tried to wedge the screwdriver head under the seam at the back of the locket. Instead, it jumped out of the channel and skidded across the surface, scratching the gold.

  When she winced, he ordered, “Don’t worry about that. Just get it off.”

  Teeth gritted, she went back to work and was finally able to pry off the backing. There might have been a photo of some long-dead loved one inside. Instead, she pulled out a small round disk which must have been placed there recently.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A tracker.”

  She caught her breath. “Should I throw it away?”

  “No. Hold on to it for a while. I’ve got a better place to ditch it. And give me back the knife.”

  She returned the tool as he drove along the street that paralleled the Gulf. Since it wasn’t ideal beach weather, he knew more people would be shopping than spreading blankets on the sand, which made a state park along the Gulf an ideal location for his purposes. He turned off at the one he liked best, especially for his nighttime wolf runs along the water. He waved the yearly pass he’d bought at the guard in the gatehouse, then drove through, knowing the bad guys would have to stop and pay a parking fee before following him in.

  He had been to this stretch of natural waterfront at night and during the day. There were a lot of parking areas strung out along the road that ran parallel to the Gulf, each separated by several hundred yards of native vegetation. Most guys might not have cared about what grew there, but a werewolf was always interested in the natural surroundings—both the flora and fauna. He headed for a stretch of blacktop that featured a thick screen of sea grape bushes, tall grass, sea oats and beach palms between the parking facilities and the sand. There was also a huge stack of driftwood piled up, probably part of the cleanup after a storm.

  As he’d anticipated, there were few people enjoying the park, which fitted in well with his plans—to lead the thugs to the tracker so he could snap their pictures. But he couldn’t do it until he knew Francesca was safe.

  He pulled into one of the parking areas where a couple of paths led through the vegetation to the beach and pointed in the direction of the water. “Go down there. Hunker down in the underbrush. I’ll be back for you as soon as I get rid of them.”

  Her suddenly panicked face made the breath clog in his throat. She looked like she was afraid he was going to leave her stranded, but he didn’t have time to say more than, “Trust me. I’ll come back and call. . . honey.”

  She gave him a tight nod and got out, heading for the greenery bordering the sand. If he could have kept her with him, he would have, but he needed her as far away from the action as he could manage.

  ###

  Francesca ran toward the Gulf, wondering if they had poison ivy in Florida—or something worse. She found a wide-leafed bush about five feet tall and ducked under the low-hanging branches. Twigs caught in her hair, but once she had scrunched herself into place, she didn’t reach to brush them away. As she caught a glimpse of Zane’s car heading for the parking lot exit, her stomach clenched. So far she thought he’d been straight with her, but what if he figured she was going to get him killed. What if he was using this opportunity to ditch her?

  No, she told herself. He wouldn’t do that. Hoping she believed her own assurances, she considered his strategy. He could have thrown the tracker into the mulch of a flower bed at the shopping area. Instead he’d come here. He must have some plan, and she wished he’d had the time to share it with her.

  The morning air was chilly, and she shivered, hoping she wasn’t making too much noise by shaking the leaves around her—and hoping a snake didn’t come slithering toward her through the tall grass.

  Her thought about wildlife wasn’t too far off the mark. As she peered through her leafy cover, she saw a raccoon waddle out of the vegetation and head toward the nearby picnic area. It looked like it was scavenging for food, but she knew they could carry rabies. She wanted to scare it away, but she couldn’t exactly leap up and start shouting and waving her arms. What if she ended in the hospital having to get shots in the stomach to ward off the disease?

  Find a burnt hot dog or something, she silently told the animal, and stay away from me.

  It took her advice, picking up a discarded potato chip bag and reaching inside, scraping up some crumbs before dropping the bag and going in search of better pickings.

  The animal’s departure left the area in silence except for the sound of the waves sliding against the sand.

  She knew her life could depend on staying quiet and calm, but she could feel her heart pounding inside her chest.

  Where was Zane? Was he okay, and was he really coming back for her?

  ###

  Zane kept driving toward a hiding place he knew, a small parking area screened by short palms and a low building that must be for maintenance equipment. When he’d hidden the car, he sprinted back the way he’d come, ending up in another parking lot where he tossed the tracker into a trash can that had been stationed in the greenery several dozen yards from the blacktop on the side away from the water. Breathing hard,
he had just dived into a clump of low palms when the SUV swung into view.

  He holstered his gun, got out his phone, and activated the camera. Soon enough, three burly men clambered out of the black vehicle. They were the same guys who had showed up at the house this morning. One was staring at the screen on his mobile, as he led the others into the underbrush toward the trash can.

  Zane snapped their pictures from several angles as they turned to inspect the refuse container.

  “What the fuck is this?” one of them asked. “I don’t see anybody.”

  They each took up stations around the can and began tossing out trash, spreading refuse on the ground as they frantically searched for the piece of jewelry that had led them to this spot.

  “Where’s the damn locket?” one of them asked.

  “Don’t see it. It must just be the frigging tracker in here, and we probably already tossed it out.”

  While they were busy, Zane began moving, staying low as he inched his way to the far side of their vehicle. He kept checking his progress, making sure that the guys were still searching. Finally he reached the car. With the army knife Francesca had returned to him, he slashed the tires on that side of the vehicle.

  As he finished, he could still hear them talking around the trash can.

  “Okay, so they ditched the tracker, but they gotta be around here. They didn’t get that much of a head start.”

  One of his companions answered with a curse. “Then where did they go?”

  “Off into the woods.”

  As he’d hoped, they started walking along the path through the greenery, heading away from the water, searching for the fugitives.

  Staying in the underbrush, Zane backtracked toward his rental. It seemed to take forever to reach it because he was afraid to do anything that would attract their attention. When he finally reached the car, he took a deep breath and slipped behind the wheel. As he started the engine, he looked back, scanning the way he’d come.

  The thugs were out of sight, and he pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the previous parking area—where he’d left Francesca. At the spot where he’d left her, he called, “Honey,” praying that the toughs weren’t going to hear him and come running back. For long moments, nothing happened, and he felt his heart rate accelerate as he called out again.

  Chapter Six

  Zane wrapped his hands around the wheel to stop himself from jumping out of the car and starting to beat the bushes looking for Francesca.

  Finally he spotted the top of her head as she peeked out from behind a low sea grape tree. When she spotted his car, she dashed along the path and leaped into the passenger seat. As he sped away, he saw movement in the rearview mirror and spotted the bad guys crossing the road, pounding back toward their own transportation. But when they jumped into the car and tried to follow, the heavy vehicle listed to the left, the rims of the tires clunking against the paving.

  He saw two of them leap out again and pull their weapons, but he was already too far away with too many trees and bushes in the way for a decent shot.

  Zane cut his speed as he headed toward the park exit.

  Francesca’s teeth were chattering, and he realized he’d sent her down to the windy beach in just her sundress.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “I’m okay,” she answered, but he knew it was a lie.

  “They can’t follow us now,” he said as he pulled onto a side street. “They’ve got to change two tires before they get on the road again.”

  “That’s good, but I thought you were going to get us both killed,” she gasped out.

  “It was a calculated risk, and it paid off.” he shot back as he put a mile between himself and the park before pulling under the shade of a frangipani tree that was next to an open field.

  Now that Francesca was in the car, he should keep his hands firmly on the wheel. But he was unable to stop himself from reaching for her and pulling her into his arms.

  Her skin felt icy as he ran his hands up and down her arms.

  “Sorry I scared you.”

  She pressed her face against his shoulder. “I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you.”

  He knew she had tried to keep her distance. As she lifted her head toward him, he saw gratitude in her eyes and more—the same desire that he’d been trying to hold in check. That look was like a trigger to all the emotions he’d been denying expression.

  He heard a soft growl rise in his throat as he lowered his mouth to hers, giving her a moment to pull back if his own need had made him read her incorrectly. When she didn’t push him away, he allowed himself the pleasure of exploring her lips, pressing, rubbing, reveling in all the sensations that he’d only imagined until now.

  Some part of his mind registered that it wasn’t safe to stay here. Another part told him that the bad guys didn’t have two spare tires. And if they did, they’d figure he was a lot farther away.

  They were still in the car, and he couldn’t do everything he wanted. But he felt reckless enough to pull the lever that slid back his seat, then scooped her up and lifted her onto his lap. Her legs were shifted toward the console. But she twisted her upper body so that her wonderful breasts were pressed to his chest when she wound her arms around his neck.

  As he kissed her, he stroked his hands up and down her arms, loving the smooth texture of her skin. With his eyes closed, he could imagine she was naked, and all he’d have to do to cup her breasts would be to ease her a little away from his chest and bring his hands inward. His fingers could imagine the tight points of her nipples, but he somehow kept the impulse to touch her like that in check. Still, there were other sensations to enjoy. Her hip was pressed to his erection, and he longed to swing her body fully around so that she was straddling his lap. Again he kept himself from doing it because he knew with her open to him like that, he might lose any sense of caution. And he was damned if the first time he made love to her would be a furtive encounter in the front seat of a car.

  For a few more moments, he let himself enjoy the kiss and the pressure of her body against his, knowing it would have to end soon. Finally, when he was afraid he would tumble over the edge of self-control, he forced himself to lift her back into her seat. She made a sound that was part startled and part loss. Her eyes blinked open, and she stared at him in confusion, then abruptly faced forward, flopping against the seat.

  Swiping at her hair, she took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry.”

  “About what?” he asked, hearing the thick quality of his voice. “I’m the one who picked you up and put you on my lap.”

  “I let you do it. I don’t usually act like that with guys I barely know.”

  “Both of us are off-balance,” he answered. Putting the moment in perspective, he added, “It’s not every day you escape from killers with a tracking device.”

  She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Right.”

  He’d given her an excuse for her behavior—and his—although he knew it was more than that. They were bonding, and there was no way to escape the pull.

  Partly to distract himself and partly because he needed some answers, he let loose with some of the thoughts that had been piling up in his mind. “I’ve got a lot of questions. “Do you think your uncle knew there was a tracker inside the pendant? How did the bad guys know it was there? Was he working with them, and they had a disagreement?”

  She shook her head. “Right, a lot of questions, and I can’t answer any of them. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid. And I was only at his house for about half an hour when those guys came up from the beach.” She finished with a question of her own. “Why would he want to put a tracker on me?”

  “To lead him to your father?”

  She winced. “That would say that he was using me. And he was working with them—and then they, um, decided he was a liability. In the interrogation, I heard, someone mentioned ‘the boss.’ Maybe someone else ordered him to get to my father.”

  “Yeah. Ma
ybe they found out he was playing them. Maybe he’d said he was going to turn you over to them,”

  “Use me as bait?”

  He dragged in a breath and let it out. “It’s as likely as anything else.”

  “I don’t know why he would do any of those things.”

  Zane dragged in a breath and let it out. “Here’s another theory. You were coming down there to see if it was okay to take him to your father. What if you decided you didn’t like him? You could leave without connecting them—and he’d still be able to trace you back home. But with him dead, we can only guess his motivation. And the remark about ‘the boss’ had nothing to do with you.”

  “Can a tracker work over hundreds of miles?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then what good would it be to find my father.”

  “He could see where you were flying to—then go there and start the search again. Did he and your dad part on good terms?”

  “I don’t know that either. I was just a little girl. And if he went into witness protection, maybe they didn’t have any way to communicate before he went into hiding.”

  Zane nodded, wondering how that fed into the whole picture.

  She looked around at the street and the field that stretched away from the curb. “They may not be able to zero in on us anymore, but we can’t stay here. Where are we going?”

  “Hopefully, the last place in Naples they would look for us.” He pulled away from the roadside and drove to a discount department store on the outskirts of town. As he swung into a parking spot, she asked, “What are we doing here?”

  “We both look like we’ve been crawling around hunting for alligator eggs. We’re going to need to look a little more respectable before our next stop.”

  “But I don’t have any money or any credit cards.”

  “I told you not to worry about that. Just pick up three or four everyday outfits.”

  He was too worried to let her out of his sight for long. Inside the store he followed her through the women’s department as she picked out some nice-looking tee shirts and those cut-off pants he didn’t know the name for. When she’d put together several outfits and added some underwear to the cart, he waited while she changed clothes, then had her follow him to the men’s department where he bought slacks and a couple of tees. He changed quickly, relieved that she was standing by their cart when he came out of the dressing room.