Dark Deceptions

by Dee Davis

  She pressed the pedal to the floor, praying the old engine would hold out. The truck fishtailed as she cut around a pothole, the sedan closing the distance between them fast. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the cell phone and dialed.

  “Come on, Nash,” she screamed into the phone, trying to keep an eye on the road, on Adam, and on the car behind her. “Pick up.” The sedan moved closer as the machine kicked in. “Damn it, Nash. Where are you?” The electronic voice told her to wait for the beep, and she momentarily considered hanging up.

  But sometimes a person had to choose between the rock and the hard place. And right now, she and Adam needed help. She had a gun and plenty of ammo. But with her son in the car, she couldn’t afford a shoot-out. The best option was to outrun them, but the heat indicator on the Ford was climbing, and she didn’t have a lot of faith.

  Faith.

  She laughed, the sound bitter against her throat.

  Finally, the beep sounded, and she stumbled over her words. “Nash, it’s Annie. Adam and I are in real trouble. They found us somehow. Adam recognized one of them. Anyway, they’re on my tail. Two of them. And I could use some help. I’m on Route 82 heading south. Back to Sunderland.” She stopped, drawing a breath. “Nash, I know you’re angry. But we can deal with all of that later. The only thing that matters now is Adam. Help us. Please.”

  She clicked to terminate the call and threw the phone on the seat. The car behind them was gaining—the Ford’s hot light flashing red now.

  “Mommy?” Adam asked, his eyes wide, his voice quavering as the truck shuddered in protest. “Are we going to be okay?”

  “We’re going to be fine,” she answered, forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can deal with this, I promise.” She pulled her gun from her pocket, balancing it on her knee, keeping her attention focused on the road ahead and the rearview mirror.

  “And if you can’t?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

  “I will. I just called Nash for backup.”

  “He’s your plan B,” Adam said with a weak grin. “Like the window in the motel bathroom.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled down at her son. “We’re going to be fine, Adam. You’ll see.”

  As if to counter the thought, the blue sedan slipped up beside her, the driver slamming his front bumper into the side of the pickup. The truck lurched to the right, the front wheel sliding off the road onto the rocky shoulder.

  Annie jerked the wheel to the left, using the weight and force of the Ford against the sedan. The sedan’s front quarter panel crumpled with the impact, the car falling behind them again.

  Pressing her foot to the pedal again, the old truck shot forward just as a shot rang out from the car behind. The bullet crashed through the back windshield, shattering the glass.

  “Stay down,” Annie yelled as she pushed the pickup to its limit, the floorboards rattling in protest as they started across a bridge.

  Another shot whistled past her. This time the bullet shattered the front windshield, the spidery cracks making it impossible to see. In front of her, she heard the frantic sound of a car horn and swerved instinctively to avoid impact. The truck skidded off the pavement, slamming through the guardrail, flipping over as it landed with a frightening crunch at the bottom of a ravine.

  Annie fought against a scream, knowing that they only had minutes before they had company. “Adam. Baby? Where are you?”

  “Out here,” came the answer, his voice reedy, but strong. “I think I flew through the window.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so. My knee’s bleeding.”

  “Stay put, honey. I’m coming.” Using her feet, she knocked out the rest of the windshield behind her and, after pocketing her gun, climbed out onto the pickup bed. Adam was crouching beneath a tree.

  “I think they’re coming.” He pointed up the steep embankment, at two figures working their way down.

  “I see them.” She nodded, trying to decide if it was better to run or to make a stand. She reached inside the pickup window and grabbed the bag with her ammo. Maybe a bit of both. The truck blocked them from being seen from above, which meant that the men had no idea they were still alive. “Can you move okay?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, hopping to his feet to prove the point.

  “Stay down, baby.” He dropped back to his knees as she crawled over to his position. “What I want you to do is head over there behind those rocks.” She pointed to a couple of moss-covered boulders a few yards away. “They’ll give you some protection.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to stay here and try and stop them.” She reached for her son’s hands. “I know I’m asking a lot. But you’re the bravest guy I know. All you have to do is stay behind the rocks and wait for me to come and get you. Okay?”

  He nodded, glancing upward at the two men still working their way down to the wreckage.

  “They won’t be able to see you. I swear it.”

  He nodded again. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too.” She gave him a quick hug and sent him scrambling for the boulders, turning back to concentrate on the threat from above. She only had a handgun. But she had the advantage of surprise and expertise.

  She held her breath, waiting. There’d only be one chance. Once they hit level ground she’d lose sight of them. Which meant she had to wait until they rounded the truck to take her shots. They’d see her the minute she popped up to fire.

  After glancing behind her to make sure Adam was safely out of sight, Annie held her breath as the men disappeared into the undergrowth. She could hear them moving, which meant they probably thought she was dead. All the better to blow their asses away.

  She lifted the gun, bracing her hand on the back of the pickup bed. One Mississippi… two Mississippi.

  The man from the ice machine appeared in her sights. She squeezed the trigger. One bastard down. The second man ducked back behind the truck. And Annie edged forward slightly, trying to improve her angle, but the heel of her boot caught on a branch or debris, sending her flying into the dirt.

  “Don’t move,” the second man said, rounding the far side of the car. She started to roll back, to shoot the guy, but before she had the chance her son came flying out from behind the rocks.

  “Leave my mother alone.” He stopped directly in front of her, blocking her line of fire.

  The man’s face darkened and he lifted his gun.

  Annie dove for Adam, screaming his name as the gun’s report filled the air.

  The quiet that followed was deafening. Still covering her son, Annie lifted her gun, searching for the shooter. But the man was down.

  Drake Flynn knelt beside him, his expression stony as he checked to be certain the shooter was dead.

  “Thank God,” Annie said, checking Adam for signs of injury. Relief made her giddy. “I thought… I thought we were dead. Did Nash send you?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Drake said, his face still giving nothing away. “I found someone who saw you take the pickup. And then Nash called to tell me what you’d done.”

  “What I’d done?” she asked, suddenly wary.

  “Yeah, pretty neat trick. Anyway, Nash is the one who figured out where you’d be. But I drew the lucky straw because I was closer. I’m afraid I’m going to need that gun.” He motioned toward the Beretta she still had clutched in her hand.

  Adam turned to look at her, confusion filling his face.

  “Fine,” she said, handing over the gun, not willing to do anything more to put Adam at risk. “But I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Annie, we know what you did,” Drake said, motioning for her to stand. “Nash was there.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, her brain scrambling to make sense of his words.

  “I’m talking about killing Blake Dominico. Just over an hour ago, you blew the ambassador away. And we have the evidence to prove it.”
>
  CHAPTER 18

  What the hell is going on here?” Annie said, shaking off the guard as he escorted her into the war room. She was holding it together, but just barely. Drake hadn’t said more than three words on the drive back to Sunderland, his accusation hanging heavy between them.

  She’d sat in back with Adam, holding her son, feeling as if she’d lost her mind. Everything had seemed so clear last night. Disappear. Make a new life for herself and for Adam. And then everything had gone to hell. First the kidnapper’s call. And then the car chase and then Drake and now Dominico—dead.

  None of it made any sense. And the only thing her mind could focus on was the fact that Adam had seen her kill another man. What kind of mother did that make her? She’d fought so long to protect him, and yet it was because of her that he’d been thrown into danger.

  He was with Lara now. Safe, for the moment. And she was here, in the war room, facing an inquisition. Annie glared at the assembled company. Tyler and Drake sat to her immediate left, Drake with his chair tipped back, one foot propped against the table, his hooded eyes unreadable. Jason was in his customary spot in front of a computer keyboard. Avery sat just to her right, his expression, as always, unreadable. A man she’d never met, probably the elusive Emmett, sat at the far end of the room. Only Lara and Hannah were missing—and Nash.

  She’d seen him only once since her arrival back at Sunderland, the look of disgust in his eyes stirring up an uncomfortable mixture of anger and despair. No one was saying anything, and all of them were avoiding eye contact.

  Behind her the door opened, and Nash walked in, his expression stony as he moved to take a seat next to Emmett. She tried to make eye contact, but he made a play instead of looking at a stack of papers he held in his hand.

  Swallowing her fear, she called on years of training and conditioning, some of it in the CIA, some of it growing up on the streets. All of it in preparation for ambushes just like this.

  “I repeat. What the hell is going on?”

  “I think you’re in a much better position to answer that,” Avery said, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

  “Drake accused me of killing Dominico,” she said, her brain still scrambling to figure out where this was headed. Nowhere good, that much she was sure of. “He said there was proof.” First rule of interrogation: Turn it back on the questioner. Play for time and information. It was amazing how easily she’d fallen back into their world.

  “Emmett and Nash found a long-range rifle at the scene,” Avery said.

  “And because I’m a sharpshooter that means it’s me?” At least she’d correctly identified the stranger. Score one for the condemned.

  “It had the same modifications as the one you designed for the schematic.” This from Drake. Nash was still pretending fascination with the pages on the table.

  “The modifications are hardly unique.” She frowned. “And even if they were, it still wouldn’t be enough to make even a circumstantial case.”

  “There were fingerprints.” Nash lifted his gaze, his eyes filled with accusation as he handed her the report with the identified prints. “They were found on the gun. And there’s a hair sample as well.” He tossed a photograph on the table. A tree branch with a clump of red hair.

  “We’re doing DNA analysis as we speak,” Jason said, heading off her next question.

  “But I wasn’t there.” She tossed the report back onto the table. “Drake, you saw me. I was fighting for my life—and Adam’s. You killed one of them yourself.”

  “You were definitely fighting off someone,” he admitted. “No question about that. But that doesn’t change the timeline.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, as he recited what he believed to be the facts. “We know that you left Sunderland around five this morning. We’ve got the disabled security camera to prove it. Then we have the car you stole from the farm just down the highway. Turns out Mr. Johnson’s had some trouble with vandals and he had a security camera. You missed it. And we’ve got you hotwiring the car at five-forty-five.”

  “Then,” Jason continued, this time flashing a photo up on the console screen, “you drove about sixty miles to the Wal-Mart parking lot. Where at approximately seven o’clock, you left Mr. Johnson’s car and about forty minutes later, stole a pickup truck.”

  “You managed to avoid the security camera in Wal-Mart,” Tyler said, “but one of the employees recognized Adam. And the guy who rounds up the baskets remembers seeing a woman matching your description driving off in the green Ford Drake found you and Adam hiding behind.”

  “From there, you apparently drove to Dominico’s country house. It’s about an hour and a half from the Wal-Mart. You cased the house, waited for Dominico to make a wrong move—and took him out.”

  “The only reason we got the evidence we did,” Nash said, his mouth set in anger, “is that I saw the gun flash. Because I was in pursuit, you didn’t have a chance to sanitize. Either that or you wanted to get caught.”

  “I wasn’t there,” she said.

  “Once you’d managed to get off the property,” Drake continued, ignoring her denial, “you made your way back to Route 82 and headed south—toward the interstate. That’s how we figured out where you’d be. Best location based on time elapsed from the shooting. I was close by so I got the order to intercept.”

  “You’ve got it all figured out,” she said, leaning forward, hands on the table.

  “The facts fit.”

  “Especially when you add in Nash’s suspicions about my sabotaging his weapon. Right?” She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Nash. “You actually believe I’d have put you in harm’s way?”

  “You’ve done it before.”

  “Jesus, you’re a piece of work.” She pulled her gaze away from Nash. “All of you. First you say you’ll help me. But you bungle that and I have to save the day. Then you promise to help me deal with the fallout, and turn around and sell me out to Homeland Security because you decide I’m in league with Adam’s kidnapper. And on top of that”—she leaned closer, her eyes only for Nash—“you actually believed that I’d willingly kill a man in cold blood in front of my own son.”

  She clutched the edge of the table, her body going cold, her legs suddenly weak. How could she have thought that he was on her side?

  God, she was a fool.

  “Let me make myself very clear,” she said, sequestering her emotion and turning back to Avery. “I did not shoot Blake Dominico.”

  “But you’re not denying that you ran away.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No. I overheard you and Nash talking last night. And I wasn’t going to stick around and wait for Tom Walker to throw the book at me. I had my son to think of. Besides, you made it very clear what you thought of me.” She shot a look at Nash, who was back to staring at the papers on the table. “I realized that I was wrong to believe that you’d help me, and that the only one I could truly depend on was me. I had to do what I thought was best for my son. But Dominico wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “So what happened?” Tyler asked, her expression grim, but at least not condemning.

  “Pretty much like you said. Except that when we left Wal-Mart, Adam was tired. And hungry. So we drove through a White Castle, and checked into a no-tell motel. Sweet Rest or something like that. Adam ate and then slept—a couple of hours maybe. I tried to figure out what my best options were. I even considered coming back.”

  Nash’s head shot up, and for the first time she felt as if he was really seeing her.

  “But before I could make a decision, the phone rang. The one Rivon gave me.” She filled them in on the rest of what had happened. The threat, the guy with the gun, the car chase, the crash, and her attempt to fight her way out. “And then Drake arrived and you know the rest.”

  “Can you substantiate any of this?” Avery asked.

  “Adam will back up everything I said. He was there.”

  “He’s only six,” Tyler said, her words gentle.

 
“Fine,” she said, scrambling to think of hard proof. “I used a fake name at the motel, but the clerk should remember me and the name will be on the register. And I called Nash. That’s why I thought you were there.” She looked over at Drake. “I thought Nash had sent you.”

  “There were no incoming calls,” Nash said, throwing his cell phone out on the table. “Check it yourself. I’ve had it with me all day.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said, shaking her head. “I left a message.”

  Tyler picked up the phone. “ Maybe it wasn’t on.” She pressed the button and the phone whirred to life, then beeped loudly.

  Annie sucked in a breath, her gaze colliding with Nash’s. “Go ahead. Check your voice mail.”

  He grabbed the phone, still glowering, punched in a code, and then listened as the phone spat back the message. “It’s just like she said. She called.” He handed the phone to Avery, his hand brushing hers in the process. Annie shivered and stepped back, needing the distance, unsure how to process the flash of remorse in his eyes.

  “Maybe she’s just using the phone call as a decoy,” Emmett said. “It doesn’t change the timeline or the evidence we found at Dominico’s. And we all know that Nash has issues when it comes to Annie.”

  “I’d never let anything interfere with an operation and you know it,” Nash said, pushing to his feet.

  “Calm down,” Avery said, nodding for Nash to sit back down. “Emmett is just presenting options. And he’s right, the phone call isn’t enough to negate the evidence found at the scene. We need to verify the motel records.”

  “Already on it,” Jason said.

  “But even that doesn’t clear her completely.” Tyler shook her head. “I mean, she could have gotten the call and been scared enough to follow through and kill Dominico.”

  “But I didn’t,” Annie protested, feeling like a broken record. “And besides, what about the people chasing me? How does that fit the scenario of my cooperating?”