Sexy/Dangerous

by Beverly Jenkins

  Adam looked, and sure enough found a gold CD with a black ace of spades on the label amidst the maps and registration papers.

  “Put it in, would you, please?”

  Seconds later they both listened to Myk’s voice as he explained the Escalade’s virtues. It had GPS capabilities, was armor clad, and equipped with what he described as a rolling communications system. “It’s built into the dash and works like a walkie-talkie. Each time the phone is engaged, it draws on a randomly selected cell tower somewhere in North America so that a call made in Michigan will register as having been made in say, Georgia, or Oklahoma, or Toronto. According to the techies, the signal is impossible to trace because an eavesdropper won’t have a clue as to the call’s point of origination.”

  Then he added, “Portia’s not the only one with elves.”

  Max and Adam shared a grin.

  He went on to explain the truck’s dual fuel tanks and the self-patching abilities of the tires. “You can roll over barbed wire, nails, glass, even a few bullets. Large armaments will do them in, though.”

  Adam asked, “Large armaments?”

  “Missiles,” she said casually while she passed a truck.

  Adam stared.

  Myk continued. “Speaking of large armaments, you have two, but only two. Let’s hope it won’t come down to that, but if it does, use them wisely.”

  Once again Adam stared. “We’re carrying missiles?”

  “Baby ones, yeah.”

  While Myk went on to talk about hidden compartments, trucker radio bands, and the like, Adam was so outdone he didn’t know what to feel, ask, or say in response. Missiles! This was proving to be a novel experience if nothing else, and it was getting way too deep for him. Way too deep.

  “Also,” Myk added, “none of the good stuff like the missiles or the phone can be engaged without a code—which is the month and date of your mama’s birthday, so if the truck falls into the wrong hands, you won’t have to worry.”

  “Good to know,” Max said, looking over at Adam.

  “Well, that’s it,” Myk said. “Be safe and good luck.”

  Adam knew that luck had been on their side so far. He just hoped it held up.

  Jan had his men bang on the back door of the old warehouse. According to Oskar’s computer, the signal coded to Gary’s cell phone had ended someplace in this area. During their sweep of the surrounding neighborhood, two crackheads swore they’d seen a man and a woman with some dogs enter the building last night. Jan didn’t know whether to believe them but had given them a couple of counterfeit five-dollar bills for their trouble.

  “May I help you?”

  Startled, Jan swung around and stared into a pair of golden eyes that looked like they’d been forged in hell. The gaze seemed to burn through to his soul, and Jan felt cold fear tingle in his blood. The light-skinned Black man was tall, bald, and dressed in a tailored black suit worn with the elegance of royalty. Flanking him were six armed Black men dressed in black.

  Jan grabbed hold of himself and remembered that he was Afrikaner and not born to be intimidated by a man of color. “I’m General Walt Pearl. And you are?”

  “What do you want?”

  The icy stare made Jan want to shoot the mulatto for his arrogance, but he and his men were outnumbered. “We’re looking for a man and a woman. There are two dogs traveling with them, too, we believe.”

  “Haven’t seen them.”

  “According to—”

  “Haven’t seen them,” the man repeated distinctly. “And unless you have a warrant, I’m going upstairs and to bed. I work midnights and I’m just getting home.”

  Jan snapped, “I am a general in the United States Army, I don’t need a warrant.”

  The man tossed back, “Look around, Mr. General. This is not the United States, this is the west side of Detroit. There are seven of us and four of you. Do you want to open up and see who’ll be standing when the smoke clears?”

  Jan stilled.

  The gold eyes flashed cold amusement. “We’re done here. Good luck with the search.”

  That said, he and his entourage entered the building, leaving Jan and his wide-eyed companions standing outside in the morning sunshine.

  Furious and humiliated, Jan called Washington and told his contact to put out an APB for Dr. Adam Gary. To his surprise, the man said this would be his last favor and instructed him to never under any circumstances contact him or his office again.

  As the call ended, Jan stood stunned. Had the man suddenly gotten cold feet? Was he being watched? Had the U.S. government gotten wind of what he and his associates were attempting to achieve? Jan had no answers, but there was a chill in his bones.

  Sixteen

  Just as Max feared, the factory-lined corridor of I–75 leading to the Michigan-Ohio state line was fat with traffic. Semis hauling everything from enormous steel coils to new cars to pigs shared the lanes with double-barrel fuel tankers and single tankers sporting red stickers warning of hazardous waste. The scene could have doubled as a trucker’s convention, and people driving personal vehicles did their best to flow through.

  Because of the trucks, the going was slow. Max felt like they were crawling. She checked the speedometer. Twenty. They were crawling. That she and her crew were not out for a Sunday drive but trying to stay ahead of the bad guys was never far from her mind, and she made a point to keep checking her mirrors. Being forced to drive in what could only be described as a moving parking lot was not to their advantage. Safe harbor was still a good four or five hours away.

  Max turned on the radio and switched it to the band that would pull in the truckers. She hoped their chatter would let her know what was going on up ahead. A few moments later she heard that a steel hauler had lost his load. Rods as big as sewer pipes were scattered all over the place, and the police were directing traffic off the highway so the mess could be cleared up. She looked over at Adam and sighed with frustration. “I hate detours.”

  “I can help you drive, you know.”

  Max had never considered giving up the wheel. “Really?”

  “Sure. I may not know weapons, but I do drive. You’ve been going full steam since yesterday morning. Take a break.”

  She had to admit that her arms were tired from a day and a half of gripping the wheel, and her shoulders were bruised and sore from being tossed around during last night’s close encounter with the Lexus and the concrete wall divider, but Max didn’t like showing weakness, and getting him from point A to point B was her job.

  Adam thought he knew her well enough now to imagine what she might be thinking. “Even Jinga had to rest sometime.”

  Max met his serious eyes. Emotions she had no names for swirled inside, touching her in places barred and shuttered for years. In that moment, she knew that of all the men in her past, Adam Gary had the potential to be the most dangerous. “Okay,” she replied, concentrating again on driving. “You’re on. Let me find a place to pull over.”

  She swung out from behind the semi they’d been trailing and stopped the car near the curb. “Let’s stash the prototype and my toys first, though.”

  He nodded.

  Keeping an eye on the traffic, she watched him place the prototype, which was wrapped in one of Sweetness’s fancy pillow cases, into the hidden compartment built into the body of the tailgate. Once she added her towel-wrapped weapons, he slammed the gate shut and they quickly got back in. He made the necessary adjustments to the seat and mirrors then merged back into the slow-moving train of vehicles following the detour.

  Max had to admit that being the passenger was relaxing. She could look at what passed for scenery in the struggling neighborhood they were driving through, and could check on Ossie as often as she wanted and not have to worry about keeping her eyes on the road. Another advantage was that she could check out Adam, and enjoy that shadowy profile with its strong jaw and chin. Memories of their lovemaking drifted up hot and true, and she forced herself to think of other things.
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  Adam said, “Tell me about Sweetness. Where’d you meet him?”

  “While I was working Detroit Homicide on a case involving his nine-year-old daughter. She was killed by a drunk driver on her way to school one morning.”

  “That’s rough,” Adam said solemnly. “Did they catch the person?”

  “Somebody did. Caught him and killed him. Put him in his car then pushed it into the river.”

  Adam couldn’t hide his surprise. “Was Sweet involved?”

  She shrugged. “The driver also had a serious gambling problem and owed some pretty ugly people quite a bit of cash.”

  “So anybody could have popped him.”

  “Yep. Last I heard, no one was ever charged.”

  “So what does Sweet do?”

  “This and that, and the less you know the better.”

  “Then that will be my last question,” he tossed back with a smile.

  She chuckled and turned back to the scenery.

  They were finally merging back onto the highway. Adam took the Escalade up to the speed limit, then engaged the cruise. After settling in, he asked, “Ever thought about settling down, Max?”

  She replied easily, “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes when I’ve been away from home for a long spell, or take on a job that really kicks my butt, I have a pity party for myself and think of throwing in the towel.”

  “What about kids?”

  She shrugged. “This body is getting a little old to be reproducing, but I might want to adopt. Maybe. Jury’s still out.”

  “Would you get married again?”

  “Please. Only if my mama’s life was in danger.”

  He chuckled. “You sound pretty adamant.”

  “Twice was enough. The first time was to a musician with an ego the size of Jupiter, and then Benny the Dog. Can I pick them or what?” She looked his way. “What about you. Do you want to get married?”

  “Eventually. Like to have a couple of kids, too, before I get too old to enjoy them.”

  Max nodded understandingly. “Well, I’ll probably wind up being one of those crackpot little old ladies holed up in her house with her guns and her dogs.”

  “Hey, you never know. Somewhere down the line you might meet a brother who’ll rock your world.”

  “Yeah right, and pigs will be flying out of LAX.”

  “You have to have faith, Max.”

  “Why would I waste faith on something I don’t want?”

  “You don’t want to have love in your life?”

  She went silent. After mulling the question over for a few moments, she replied quietly, “Not if there’s going to be heartbreak on the other side. Been there. Done that.”

  He met her eyes. “Not all men are that way.”

  Once again, muddled feelings filled Max’s insides. “So I’m learning.”

  He used a bent finger to slowly caress her cheek. When her eyes slid shut from the power in his touch, he leaned over and gave her a short sweet kiss before turning his attention back to the drive.

  Max was left zinging. Why this man? she wanted to know. Why in her thirty-fifth year would the fates put someone like him in her life? Parts of herself wanted the answer, but other parts wanted nothing to do with it.

  Adam, meanwhile, wondered if Max had any softness in her life. He wasn’t referring to the female kind of softness, because he knew Max was all woman, but the softness everyone needed. The kind of softness a man feels when he wakes up beside that one special woman. The kind of softness you feel coming home to the person you loved after a bad day. Who was her haven when she needed emotional shelter? What did she fear and who held her when things became too much to bear? He knew how tough she was, but even Superman feared losing Lois, and Kryptonite.

  Adam set aside thoughts of Max for the moment and turned to a question that had been bugging him for a while. “If the President is so worried about the prototype falling into the wrong hands, why didn’t he send a helicopter or something to take me to D.C.?”

  “If the rumors of rogues are true, he probably wasn’t sure who he could trust. Wouldn’t want a chopper whisking you off to Afghanistan.”

  Adam saw her point.

  Traffic flowed well for the next few miles, then, around Bowling Green, everything slowed and then stopped. Max groused, “Now what?”

  Adam switched off the CD and turned the radio on so they could eavesdrop on the truckers again.

  Police checkpoint. Less than five miles ahead. A worried Max quickly checked the cars around them in hopes of pulling off the highway, but the Escalade was in the middle lane and boxed in on both sides. She looked at the steep grades flanking the road and knew that even if they managed to escape the traffic, there was no way they could handle the incline. The Escalade was a lot of things, but not a mountain goat. They were stuck.

  Adam asked, “Do you think they’re looking for us?”

  “I don’t know but my gut’s turning big-time.”

  She searched her mind for a way out. If this were a simple routine safety check, getting out of line would call unnecessary attention to themselves, but if this was a sweep intended to net them, they were caught unless she could come up with a way to go around it. “Any ideas?” she asked him.

  “Nope.”

  Max sensed his worry matched her own. “Let’s cut the AC and open the windows. We may need that gas.”

  Adam did as she requested and hit the button that controlled the sun roof. It slid open noiselessly, letting in fresh air and the rhythmic beat of a helicopter. Max craned her neck up to look past the windshield and saw a helicopter painted in military greens and brown hovering over the traffic. “Uh-oh.”

  Adam looked up at it, too, then over at Max. She slipped her Glock out of her purse and into her hand. To make matters worse, two armed soldiers appeared. They were walking through the stalled traffic scrutinizing the faces of drivers, then moving on.

  She let out a soft curse. It had barely left her lips when a knock on the window beside her startled her. Turning, she saw the business end of an M-16 pointed her way and the hard eyes of the soldier behind it. “Put your hands up!” he barked.

  Max sighed with frustration and anger.

  “Drop the weapon!”

  Max made a show of placing the Glock on top of the dashboard.

  “Unlock the door!”

  Adam complied, and the locks went up with a loud click.

  “I want the woman to get in the backseat and I’ll ride shotgun. You stay where you are, Dr. Gary.”

  That settled the mystery. The soldiers were after them.

  Max stepped out with her hands up. She could see the concern and curiosity on the faces of the other drivers. As he gave her a light patdown, she wondered what kind of story the drivers would tell their friends and family about this when they reached their respective destinations.

  “Where’s your phone?” the soldier asked.

  “On the seat.”

  “Get in.”

  Max did as she was told but wondered where he’d received his training. Anybody with sense would never have an unrestrained perp seated behind him. This small faux pas didn’t tell her a lot about who she might be dealing with but it did tell her something: Either his training was lacking or he was underestimating her because of her sex. Since both could be used to her advantage, she sat back and waited.

  While two other armed soldiers made the trucks and cars boxing in the Escalade open a hole in the traffic for them to squeeze through, the soldier seated beside Adam told Max, “If I have any problems with those dogs back there, I’ll shoot them.”

  The threat didn’t help Max’s mood. She looked back at the strapped-in Ruby, whose furrowed face was directed at the soldier, and then at the sleeping Ossie. “One’s drugged and the other will be fine.”

  Max then sat silent as Adam steered the Escalade to the shoulder. He was then instructed to drive down to the checkpoint that could be seen about a quarter of a mile away.

  The so
ldier asked him, “Do you have the prototype?”

  Adam looked over and replied, “How about we let your boss ask the questions.”

  The man’s jaw tightened but he didn’t respond.

  Max beamed. Good answer, Doc!

  When they reached the checkpoint, men dressed in Ohio State Trooper uniforms were taking down the sawhorses that had been blocking the highway. Once they were done, traffic began to crawl by, but not before the drivers took one last curious look at the commandeered Escalade.

  Max and Adam waited as another soldier—a general, if all the stars and bars riding his shoulders were authentic—walked to the car accompanied by a pasty-faced man in a rumpled black suit. The soldier seated beside Adam said, “Roll down the window.”

  Adam complied, and the general stuck his head in. “I’m General Walt Pearl,” he said importantly, “Army Intelligence.”

  Adam nodded. The man had coal black hair, cold blue eyes, and the voice of the “friend” on the phone. He was as tall as Adam and appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. If he was who he claimed to be, Adam assumed Pearl was one of the Pentagon’s rogues.

  Pearl turned his attention on Max. “You must be Max Blake, the supposed housekeeper.”

  She didn’t reply but silently wondered how he’d learned her identity. Kent, maybe.

  “We ran your name through the national databases and it came back blank. Technically, you don’t exist, Ms. Blake. Why is that?”

  Max shrugged.

  “Who are you, really?”

  “The housekeeper.”

  Her blasé attitude didn’t seem to sit well. Giving her an icy smile, he said, “Fine, stick with your story. You’ll tell me the truth eventually.”

  His companion looked sweaty and nervous. In fact, he didn’t even look like an American dressed in that bad suit. She wondered what his role might be.

  Pearl ignored Max for the moment and asked Adam, “Do you have the prototype?”

  “It destabilized last night when a car rammed us. I had to destroy it.”

  Max had been wondering if Adam could lie. Now she knew—not only could he lie, but he could do it with style.