Nick’s satellite phone vibrated. “Find out anything useful?”
“No. Cleanup arrives in ten minutes. They don’t want any trouble, Nick, so wait upstairs. If they see anything move, they’ll spray everything in sight.”
“I’ll be upstairs in the back bedroom with the woman and her daughter. All they have to do is remove Morris’s body, wrapped in a black plastic bag, leaning against the wall to the right of the front door. They won’t even have to step inside the house.”
“Good, I’ll tell them. We’ll talk after they remove the body.”
“Fine.”
Nick pulled the bag over his head, aligning the eyeholes with his arms through the slits. He wrapped the duct tape around the bag at his waist, and positioned himself sitting next to the doorway, with his right arm free behind him. His left side leaned against the entryway door frame with legs splayed out sideways. After making last minute adjustments to his eyeholes, Nick waited, his right hand holding Morris’s weapon slightly under his right leg.
Minutes later, the front door opened. Without more than a glance at Nick’s bagged figure, the two men entered the house, pausing when they reached the stairwell. Nick raised his right arm and fired with deadly accuracy from only fifteen feet away. The silenced shots from Morris’s 9mm Glock struck the two men’s heads. Nick fired four times, two striking the man in the rear over his right ear. The third shot struck the second man through the jaw as he turned and the fourth through his forehead. Rolling to his left, Nick propelled himself up after one spin with his left hand. He shot twice more into each man’s head as they lay twitching on the floor.
Nearly forty minutes later, Rachel’s cell-phone rang. She jumped as if touched with a cattle prod. Rachel had been taking turns with Jean on her daughter’s Nintendo DS. Opening the cell-phone with a shaking hand, Rachel said hello.
“Drive around to my house. You’ll see a black Ford van parked out in front. I’ll wave and you follow me down to the Monterrey Marina.”
Rachel drove around the block and followed Nick as he drove the Ford van. When they reached the Monterrey Marina, Nick waved Rachel around, pointing toward the curb. He parked the van and took a last look around the van’s rear cargo compartment. Morris sat propped against the rear doors, his Glock with silencer in hand, and his legs splayed out in front of him. Morris’s weapon pointed in the general direction of the two men Nick had shot after they entered his house over an hour ago. The corpses stared sightlessly at Morris from where they were slumped against the front seat backs. Nick straightened the body behind him slightly with gloved hands and then locked up the van. He set the vehicle alarm. Nick ran up to his Malibu’s driver’s side and opened the door for Rachel.
“Where to now?”
“Las Vegas, baby,” Nick answered. “I have an emergency place out in the desert there. We can hole up for a few days until we’re off the radar. Get in.”
“Nick…” Rachel grabbed Nick’s arm before he could get into the driver’s side seat. “Were those guys in the van assets like you thought?”
“Absolutely.” Probably.
* * * *
“Thanks for stopping, Nick.” Jean settled into the seat with Deke’s head on her lap. “I was starving.”
“I noticed. I think I saw the McDonald’s assistant manager send out for more food after you ordered.”
“Did not.” Jean made a face at Nick as he watched her in the rearview mirror. “Where’d all the cars come from?”
They were on their way to California Route 46 East, near Bakersfield. The McDonald’s stop had been the first rest break since leaving the Monterey area. While heading toward the freeway on-ramp, they encountered a traffic jam up. A State Highway Patrol car with lights flashing was visible along the roadside a hundred yards ahead. Nick could see the route lay open past the patrol car, with vehicles speeding up from there on.
“There must be a fender bender up where the patrol car’s parked,” Nick speculated, as the traffic inched ahead. “Naturally, the looky-loos have to jam us all up.”
Rachel opened her window, getting a blast of hot air from the Bakersfield desert area, while craning her head out the window to see around the vehicle ahead.
“Nick!” Rachel gasped, jerking back inside. “Some guy’s kicking the crap out of a state cop! They’re wrestling around on the ground and no one’s stopping except to look.”
“People know they can end up getting killed sticking their noses into something like that,” Nick explained calmly. “Hopefully, he called for backup, and they’ll be here soon. Sometimes you…what?”
Rachel stared at Nick in open-mouthed surprise, all the while knowing it was ridiculous to think Nick would react any differently. “What if the cop didn’t get a chance to call in? Couldn’t you help?”
“You do realize we’re on the run, right?” Nick was unable to disguise the irritation her question provoked in him. “I could get killed. I could help and end up on the six o’clock news. I could be a star on a You-Tube vid thirty seconds after I get involved, with all the cell-phone freaks out there.”
“Stop the car. I’m going to help him,” Rachel ordered.
“Are you out of your -”
“Stop the damn car now!” Rachel turned on Nick, her mouth a thin line of angry determination.
Oh great, Dudley Doright to the rescue. Nick glanced at Jean in the rearview mirror. It looked as if both the little girl and Deke were looking at him accusingly.
“Jean, hand me my windbreaker, quick.” Nick sighed. “Hold the wheel, Wonder Woman.”
Jean handed Nick his windbreaker while Rachel held the steering wheel. Nick slipped into the jacket and pulled the hood up over his head, cinching it tightly. He reached across Rachel and popped open the glove compartment. Nick extracted the pepper spray and stun gun he had stored there.
“I’ll stop, jump out, and you get your Good Samaritan ass over into the driver’s seat. Keep going no matter what you see and wait for me at least twenty yards past the incident. If it doesn’t turn out well for me, get turned around and head back to Grace and Tim.”
* * * *
Rachel tensed as Nick stomped on the brake, shifted into park, and leaped out of the car. Rachel exited her side and moved quickly to take his place. It took Rachel only a few seconds to get into the Malibu driver’s seat and shift the car into drive. She watched Nick jog toward the flashing lights. Rachel only caught brief flashes of his windbreaker hood as Nick moved along, staying close to the slow moving line of cars.
* * * *
Nick saw the faces of mildly interested people gawking ahead, anticipating their soon to be front row seats to a possible tragedy. As he suspected, Nick saw cell-phones held out windows nearer to the fight. He shifted the stun gun to his left hand while positioning the pepper spray nozzle with his right. As he drew nearer, Nick saw the State Highway Patrol officer slip and go down on his back hard. His attacker straddled him with arms cascading closed-fisted blows on the downed officer. Nick noted the guy on top wore only a white t-shirt and jeans. His unkempt dark brown beard and long hair lent a wild aspect to the hulking figure.
Nick heard the mixed grunts and cries of rage, fear, and pending exhaustion, as the life and death struggle played out toward disaster for the patrolman. The bearded attacker stopped his assault and grabbed for the officer’s gun. The patrolman, spitting blood and gasping for breath, tried to cover the man’s access to his holster with both hands. This drew his attacker’s ire in the form of a one-fisted pummeling the officer had no defense for. Nick kept close to the cars, breaking into a run, knocking into arms and cell-phones, as he covered the remaining distance.
The patrolman gave up defense of his weapon, unable to withstand the pounding he was taking to his already shattered face. With a yelp of triumph, the bearded man seized the 9mm automatic, wresting it out of the patrolman’s holster with his left hand as he continued to smash the officer with his right fist. The side of Nick’s booted foot struck with the fu
ll power of his running leap into the man’s right ribcage. Rib bones cracked and the attacker shrieked in pain, pitching sideways off the patrolman, the weapon falling from his hand.
Nick followed through his kick, landing over the fallen officer, spraying the still screaming attacker full in the face with pepper spray. With calm, calculated movements, Nick then stunned the convulsing man, blue crackling arcs highlighting his relentless assault, until the man made no sound. Only the man’s heaving chest and jerking limbs gave any indication the attacker still lived. Nick heard cries of shock from the vehicles’ open windows as they passed by. He made sure he kept his face turned away from the people’s cameras. Nick pocketed his pepper spray and picked up the patrolman’s handgun with the sleeve of his windbreaker pulled over his right hand. He leaned over the officer, who had groggily rolled to his left, wheezing and gasping for air. Nick stuck his handgun into the empty holster and helped the patrolman up into a sitting position against his squad car’s rear door. The officer blinked tears and sweat away, his arms hanging at his sides limply.
“I doubt this clown will be moving, but if you’ll allow me, I’ll cuff the prick for you.” Nick looked closely at the officer’s eyes, trying to determine the patrolman’s state of consciousness.
Not in a condition to question his savior, the officer nodded slightly, and turned to allow Nick access to his handcuffs. Nick took them out of the pouch at the patrolman’s belt and went over to flip the bearded man over on his face, dragging the man’s hands behind his back and expertly cuffing him. Nick leaned down and wiped the cuffs with his windbreaker before returning to the patrolman.
“I have to leave. Will you be okay?”
“Tha…thank you…they…they just watched. He had my…gun…I -”
“Easy now,” Nick soothed, holding his hand up in front of the officer’s eyes. “Keep your focus. Did you get this called in?”
“No…I didn’t have time, he -”
“I’ll get it.” Nick noted the officer’s name was Tomlinson. He opened the driver’s side door, reached in with his windbreaker-covered right hand and called in an ‘officer down’ call, naming Tomlinson.
Nick left the driver’s door open and leaned over to Tomlinson again. He saw some clarity returning to the patrolman’s eyes. “Help’s on the way. Want me to kick the sucker on my way by for you?”
In spite of his painful condition, Tomlinson grinned a little, but shook his head slightly.
Nick ran off, ignoring the mixture of cheers and accusations, while he ran for the Malibu parked ahead. He ripped open the passenger door and dived in.
“Go, go, go,” Nick ordered Rachel.
Rachel spun the wheels slightly, kicking up dirt and loose gravel getting onto the road again. In minutes she had the Malibu on the freeway heading East, with Nick watching for possible looky-loos following them from the scene. Nick stripped off the windbreaker. He was drenched in sweat, and leaned back in the seat taking slow, deep breaths while enjoying the blast of cold air from the vents.
“I…I was wrong, Nick.” Rachel gripped the steering wheel stiffly. “That guy was a monster. He’d have killed me…and…I saw all the cameras. If -”
“You were right,” Nick interrupted, thinking of Tomlinson’s smashed face. “You made me do what was right and I don’t often know what’s right anymore. He would’ve killed the cop.”
Suddenly remembering Jean, Nick whipped around in his seat, peering back at the little girl appraisingly. “I don’t suppose you looked away as your Mom drove by, did you?”
“Nope,” Jean replied with a mixture of fear and awe. “Did you kill that guy?”
“No, but he ain’t happy.”
Jean giggled.
“Great.” Nick sighed, turning to the front again. “Another psycho in training.”
Chapter Seven
Las Vegas
“Holy crap, Nick, this is yours too?”
Nick chuckled at Rachel’s tone as he drove the Chevy up into the driveway of a two story brownstone with an arched, extended stone patio entranceway. He left the car, ran over to the keypad at the entranceway and then reentered the Malibu. It was nearly three in the morning. They had stopped as infrequently as possible after the incident in Bakersfield and interacted with no one. Nick triggered the garage door with a remote he took out of his glove compartment. A late model black Cadillac Escalade could be seen shining in the lights which came on as the garage door opened. Nick parked the Malibu next to the Cadillac and used his remote to close the garage door. He shut off the engine and leaned back rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry we had to drive straight through like that.”
Rachel glanced back at Jean, whose head rested against a pillow, mouth hanging open in sleep, with Deke across her lap. “It was fine. Those two have been dozing on and off for the last few hours. Do you have this house furnished?”
“Yep. It may be dusty though. I only get out this way a couple times a year. It gets hotter here than in Pleasanton, so other than stopping in to check everything over, I really don’t visit very often. I pay the bills through an on-line PayPal account, so everything’s on and working. Want me to carry Jean in?”
“No, she needs to get ready for bed anyhow,” Rachel replied as they both exited the Chevy. “Do you have a backyard for Deke?”
“Yes, but it’s a stone yard, a lot like the front. Water is in short supply out here, and other than cactus plants, you can’t trust much to grow without everyday care. I’ll get the bags and let Deke out. You go ahead and get Jean up and moving.”
Deke was ready and leaped out over the suitcases on the backseat the moment Nick opened the car’s rear passenger area. Nick led the dog through a door he unbolted, opening into a stone patterned area, graced with only resilient desert plants as landscaping. A six foot security fence ringed the large rear of the property. Nick left the door open and went over to unlock the garage entrance to the house interior for Rachel and a yawning Jean. He switched on lights as he led them inside. Nick paused in the huge living room and pointed to the stairs.
“The bedrooms and big bath are upstairs. Take any room that suits you. I’ll get the bags.”
“Nick… thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Wonder Woman, the adventure continues.” Nick waved her off on the way back to the garage.
* * * *
Rachel woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed, her heart thumping. She looked around the bedroom, furnished in western fashion with a dark oak dressing table, nightstands, dresser and headboard. The matching blinds only let in a small amount of light. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 10:45 AM. Remembering their journey out of California, Rachel hurriedly went to check on Jean and found her still fast asleep. After stopping in the bathroom and putting on a light robe, Rachel went downstairs. Nick was sitting at the kitchen table typing on his notebook computer. He wore only a sleeveless gray t-shirt and jeans. Not for the first time did Rachel feel a familiar warmth flow over her, looking at this man who killed people for a living. I must be nuts.
“Good morning.” Nick smiled up at her.
Deke grunted at Rachel from where he lay near Nick.
“You look like you’ve been up a while,” Rachel noted, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup for herself. “I see traitor-dog came down with you.”
“All this adventure inspired me.” Nick chuckled at her reference to Deke. “I decided to get a few thousand words down on my new novel. If I run out of steam later I’ll take a nap.”
“Psychos take naps?”
“You have to be careful taunting psychos in the morning,” Nick told her, getting up and moving as close to Rachel as the cup she held allowed.
“Is that a threat?” Rachel met Nick’s eyes questioningly as she set aside her cup. “When did you go to bed this morning?”
“About four,” Nick answered, undoing her robe and spreading it out. Rachel wore only a bra and panties underneath. Rachel shivered as Nick put his
hands on her sides. “I had to take a shower after the workout I got in Bakersfield.”
“Are you writing another Diego novel?” Rachel asked, her heart speeding up into the danger zone. Nick gently stroked his hands up and down her sides slowly. She could tell he liked the shortness of breath his ministrations caused.
“No, I’m trying my hand at an erotic novel.”
“I’ll bet. So…this is research?”
“Absolutely,” Nick whispered, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, gently touching and then sealing Rachel’s mouth with his own.
Rachel moaned, and wound her arms around Nick’s neck, her body moving sensuously against him.
“Eeeeewwwww!” Jean exclaimed from the doorway, her face contorted into a grimace. “Young child here.”
Rachel blushed, pulling away from Nick, and laughing at Jean’s reaction. Nick turned and pointed a finger at Jean while Rachel closed up her robe.
“Don’t make me have to put a bell around your neck.”
Jean giggled. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m shocked,” Nick muttered, going to the cupboard, “shocked, I tell you. All I have is canned goods for now. How about Spaghettios?”
“For breakfast?” Jean questioned doubtfully in return, and then nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds good.”
“How about you, Wonder Woman?”
“Do you have crackers to go with them?”
“I have a box of unopened Ritz crackers only a year old.”
Rachel grinned. “Yum. Count me in.”
Fifteen minutes later they sat around the table eating Spaghettios and Ritz crackers, with glasses of orange juice Nick had made up from frozen concentrate. Nick had served himself only a small amount and pushed it aside after a few bites. Jean finished hers and asked for seconds which Rachel dished up for her.
“Tasteless muck. I don’t know why the hell I ever bought it.”
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