The information he’d received confirmed that Ben Whyte was in the area. Could one of the two be Ben? If it was Ben, he had the home advantage. These were his childhood stomping grounds. He knew every bit of this land. He’d known that the land deals had been nothing but worthless contracts. He’d known it all, for this was where they’d been inked. It was here that they had fleeced enough buyers to make Ben a rich man if he could just cash in on his last deal.
He crouched down. He had his gun out and in one hand. He wasn’t expecting to shoot anyone, not yet. He hoped not ever, but then he always hoped that. He squinted. He could see the shadowy figures, one moving in on the other. He wasn’t sure what was going on. His priority was keeping Ava safe, and to do that he needed to get her out of there as quickly as possible.
One man moved closer to her door. Too close for his liking. He knew who it must be. He could see the off-kilter way he walked, as if one leg couldn’t quite support the weight that was expected of it. He knew why he walked that way. One of the unit lights near the end clicked on and then immediately off but it was enough to see the distinctive profile that was Ben Whyte.
Faisal shifted his Glock, feeling the comforting weight. He had no sympathy for either Dallas Tenorson, a man who seemed to spend his life contracting to kill, or Ben Whyte, his intended victim. If the second man was Dallas, then there was no way he could take him out without giving an open path for Ben to kill Ava. Ava’s room remained in darkness and he could only wonder if she was awake or asleep. Was she spooked by the earlier gunfire? There was always the chance that she’d open the door and make herself vulnerable. He could try to take at least one of these men out but neither were close enough for a clean shot.
It was too dangerous. He couldn’t risk trying to take either of them out and alerting the other to his presence. Instead, he had to sneak around them and get Ava out before he addressed the other two. To do that he was going to have to go around back. He could only hope that, like every motel built in this style, there was a window in the bathroom. He thought of fire codes. He didn’t know what the damn fire codes were—he could only pray. If there wasn’t a window... The thought dropped. He wouldn’t think of that and would just have come up with a new plan then if it came to that. He began to make his way around the building, moving quickly before the explosive situation in front of him blew up.
A movement ahead. Ben Whyte was five yards from Ava’s front door. There was no more time to consider. He had to move. He ducked down behind a worn-out van with chipped gray paint. Another shot was fired and the man on the fringes of the worn parking lot dropped. The shot was masked by the sound of a semi pulling out on the edges of the commercial district of town.
He couldn’t get a clear shot from here. With his gun in both hands he moved quickly and quietly to the back of the building. He slipped around the building with his back to the wall, watching for movement in the darkness broken only by a yard light over fifty feet away.
Two minutes later he was outside Ava’s back window. He gave the signal that they’d used so often, what seemed like forever ago. He waited. Nothing.
He tapped on the window again. One, two, three—same as he had so many years ago when he called her out in their university days to whatever party had been going on. He hoped she remembered. Hoped that she realized the danger and got out before it was too late. Before he needed to do something more drastic that could compound the danger she was already in.
She had to remember. But he couldn’t assume anything, couldn’t make that mistake, for Ava’s life was on the line.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Someone or something was tapping on the bathroom window. Ava bit back a shriek. She was blocked in. She’d heard what sounded like a gunshot in the parking lot and she’d kept low after that, afraid to look out or to somehow draw attention to herself. Now there was someone at the back—her only escape hatch. Her tiny sanctuary had just become her trap. Her heart pounded and she was glad she hadn’t had a chance to eat much or she was sure fear would have her heaving it all. She was poised in the doorway of the bathroom to run and there was nowhere to run to.
She couldn’t breathe and her heart was racing.
That familiar tap again. The tap that had meant so many other things so long ago. Was it her imagination? Wishful thinking? Or divine providence? It didn’t matter if it was none or any of them. She had no choice. She had to take the chance. It could be anyone or it could be him.
She didn’t need any other motivation. She didn’t care who was in the alley. Fear skated over everything her rational mind told her, and she knew that she had to get out.
Her hands shook as she balanced on the tub. She pushed but the window seemed stuck. She pushed again. Her nail ripped. She didn’t stop. Finally, the window opened a crack and with a heave she pushed it all the way up. The faded, blue-checked curtain fell across her face and she pushed it aside as she boosted herself up. Fortunately, the window was big enough that she was easily able to slip out of it without bodily contortions. She dropped to the ground just as she heard the crack of wood splitting and knew that the door to her room had just burst open.
She landed hard and stumbled. She reached out as if intuitively she’d known all along that someone friendly was here, someone who would stop her from stumbling or face planting. That was only wishful thinking. She had to get out of here if she wanted to live.
“It’s me.”
A man. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought her chest would burst.
She bit back a scream, backed up and turned to run. She’d give it her best. She wouldn’t die from lack of trying. Instead she ran straight into the solid wall of a chest and strong arms that held her tight. There was no escape. She was doomed and if it weren’t for the arms holding her, she was sure she might have expired from fright.
She tried to twist away and at the same time she tried to make herself smaller, to slip out of the iron grip that held her. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud that she thought she might die just from that alone. Fear raced through her and at the same time anger was building. The adrenaline rush was more from anger than fear now. She’d live through this or die trying. She raised her foot to bring it down on the beige canvas high-top sneaker. Not an ordinary shoe. Designer. The words ran through her mind but didn’t connect with what that meant.
“Ava.”
She twisted and managed to sink her teeth into his hand. A curse and then she was turned roughly around to face him.
“Damn it.”
The grip loosened and she was free. But the freedom only lasted a few seconds before he had her again. This time by her waist, her feet off the ground, she was held tight against him.
She kicked backward and clipped his shin.
“Ava, it’s me... Faisal.”
She hadn’t heard right and yet she had. The voice, the words, even the shoes. It all came together. All of it was familiar. The fear fell away. She relaxed in his arms, her heart pounding a zillion miles an hour. The danger she had anticipated replaced by a danger that had a different meaning, different depth.
“Fai?” she said, even though the familiarity of the voice validated the truth.
“If I let you go, promise me you won’t run,” he said.
“I wouldn’t—”
“I’d catch you anyway,” he cut her off darkly.
“Let me go,” she said. “I won’t run.” That part was true, for she had no vehicle and no place to run to. “But it’s a mistake to be here with me.”
His arm eased and she slid down his hard length, landing on her feet, as she turned to face him.
The look he gave her was both intimidating and full of concern. “You could have died, running the way you did.”
“But I didn’t,” she said obstinately, as if her earlier fears had been based on nothing but her imaginati
on. “It was a mistake to follow me,” she repeated, for he hadn’t responded the first time she’d said it. “Fai,” she whispered. “You need to get out of here. Trust me.”
“We’ll get out of here together. This is what I do—protect.”
“I know,” she whispered but she really wasn’t quite sure she did. She knew about his company, even knew about his position but she’d never imagined any of this. She wasn’t sure any layperson actually could.
“It’s dangerous,” she said as if he’d said nothing at all. “Being with me.”
“I can take care of myself, Ava, and you. You need me. Maybe more than you realize.”
Something deep inside told her that he was right. That it had been a mistake to come here alone. “There’s someone after me. He’ll kill—”
“Let’s get you out of here. This place has been compromised.”
A gunshot seared the night and overrode the other sounds. She bit back a scream.
“Damn it.”
He grabbed her hand without another word. They were running down the narrow overgrown alley, where trees grew wild and uncontrolled by a gardener’s clippers. Their branches reaching beyond the confines of the yards they grew in, crowding the alley. He boosted her over a fence, through a yard cluttered with aged vehicles. A dog barked. The sound muffled and slightly ominous as if there was something the dog could see and they couldn’t.
She ran as if he were her only salvation. And she supposed it was true. She’d be dead if Faisal hadn’t been here. Her father had died and she knew that she was next on the list. She clung tighter to his hand and wished she could go back to a place in time when she’d never run from him in the first place. She couldn’t protect him. It had been foolish of her to try.
* * *
BEN COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. Darrell Chan had tried to take him out.
Despite the advice he’d given Chan, despite how convincing he’d believed he’d been, Chan hadn’t listened. He’d told Chan that purchasing land in this area would be slow going. Tristan wasn’t a big place and the land-registry process moved like everything else—slowly. He’d told Chan that it was best not to delay paying the purchase price since that would grease the system’s wheels and get everything moving faster. Apparently, Chan hadn’t believed him, about anything. The deal had fallen through.
He ducked behind a car and could see the man Chan had sent after him was still moving. He’d thought he’d gotten him minutes ago and had gone for the little witch in the interim. That had been a mistake. He rubbed his shoulder. He’d almost got it then.
He narrowed his eyes, watching. He knew who he was up against. He’d done his research. The loser was a hired killer. Chan had used him before; he was good. But he wasn’t that good.
Ben moved diagonally. He was in the open but he was low and it was dark. A shot hit close enough to kick up dirt and make a pebble clip his wrist. He bit back a curse and put his mouth on the wound.
Damn it, he thought with a snarl. He flattened himself to the ground by the back tire of a van and watched, waiting. The loser had taken his last shot. He’d picked the wrong man to try to take out. He hadn’t spent hours at the range for nothing. This guy was done.
He dropped to his chest as he had a brief visual and then nothing. He inched forward, both hands on his gun, his eyes combing the half-empty lot, searching for him. The one who saw the other first was the one who would come out of here alive.
There’d be one more shot.
It would be his.
Movement.
Running. The slap of sneakers on pavement. A shadow of a man.
He took aim and fired. Once, twice.
Someone would hear him.
Damn it. He didn’t care. He shot again.
His target fell.
It was time to get the hell out of here.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“How did you find me?” Ava gasped as she was literally dragged by her hand. She knew that Faisal was pacing himself, that he was holding back. She was running full tilt, giving it her all. But she was no runner. She needed to stop for breath. “Those were gunshots?” she gasped. “What’s going on?”
“Keep moving,” he gritted. They’d already jumped one broken fence. Now, he was almost lifting her over another listing three-foot fence that backed yet another property.
There was no time to answer anything. They needed to get out of the area. They ran for a few more minutes, taking them another block away before he stopped.
“You’re alright?”
“I need to rest,” she gasped.
She looked at Faisal and saw that he had a gun in his hand. The sight of that did nothing for her pounding heart. This was unbelievable, unthinkable. She’d known Faisal’s work could be dangerous but somehow she’d never imagined this. She couldn’t fathom it. Instead, she looked around. The street they were on seemed quiet, deserted. Across the street was a steel Quonset and she remembered another time and something else her father had said.
“You’re remembering,” Faisal said as his dark eyes scanned her face.
She nodded. “My memory is back.”
“Can you go any farther?” he asked. “You can tell me everything later. And I can tell you what you need to know, what I’ve found out.”
“He wants to kill me.”
“I know,” he interrupted. “But someone’s been sent to take him out. I don’t know which of them is going to walk out of that parking lot. But we’re going to be as far away as possible.”
“This is beyond what I thought.”
“Way beyond.”
“What else do you know?” she asked.
“More than you think,” he replied. “But right now I need to get you to safety.”
* * *
FIVE MINUTES LATER Faisal had left Ava in the driver’s seat of the SUV he’d rented. He’d made sure all the doors were locked. And he’d given her strict instructions that if anyone but he approached the vehicle, she should take off and never look back. He didn’t think that would happen. Where she was, in the parking lot of a local fast-food restaurant, couldn’t be any more well-lit and, therefore, any safer. “If you feel threatened in any way, drive. Don’t analyze it, just go. Head for Ballad,” he said mentioning the next town twenty miles west of Tristan where the sheriff’s office was located. “Promise me you won’t hesitate. You’ll just go and report everything to the sheriff there.”
“I promise,” she said.
He’d left her there. It was the best place he could come up with in a time crunch. He had to go back. He’d run all the way back, daily sprints making the run easy. Five minutes later, he stood on the fringes of the parking lot outside the motel room that Ava had called home for not quite a day. A man lay sprawled on his back ten feet from the lone parking lot light. Otherwise, the lot was empty of people and dotted with the same vehicles that had been there fifteen minutes ago.
He moved carefully forward, crouched down to approach the body. He assumed it wasn’t Ben. He needed to be sure. The body was lying faceup. He beamed a small flashlight at the figure that was obviously dead. The man matched the picture of Dallas Tenorson. Wiry, early thirties, dark hair and he guessed about five foot eight. He went through the man’s pockets. No identification but he didn’t expect any. The hit man had come to take Ben Whyte out and instead Ben had taken him. He didn’t feel anything for him. These types of men were desperate, dangerous, from hard backgrounds, and they lived and died by violence. To them, a life was only as good as the coin you could lay on it.
He moved silently across the parking lot, keeping low and out of sight. He could see the flicker of a television through the window in one room. He thought of the gunshots, not many admittedly but still enough to have attracted attention. A dead man in the parking lot to cap everything and st
ill it had brought no curious bystanders from their units. Everyone was caught in their own melodrama whether real or spoon-fed to them through the television screen. Beyond them was undeveloped land and a shooting range. You couldn’t have picked a better place to take someone out. Ava had set herself up perfectly without even realizing it. But then how could she have known? The shooting range was hidden. It was behind the dilapidated warehouse that sat diagonally across from a commercial lot. He’d seen it himself only because he’d driven a back road in that took him past the facility. So gunshots wouldn’t be unexpected in this rough area near a shooting range. It was a shooter’s nirvana.
Five yards from Ava’s room he could see that the gravel had been disturbed with what looked like a footprint. He thought of the dead man. The same fate could have befallen Ava if he hadn’t been there. The thought of it made him sick. The door was cracked and he only had to push gently for it to open. Inside, the bed cover had been thrown across the room and there were towels scattered on the floor as if they’d been thrown in frustration. There was nothing else, no personal belongings, nothing left behind to give any indication as to who had been here.
On a hunch, he lifted the mattress and there was an envelope. He picked it up and looked inside, quickly thumbing through the papers and seeing that they pertained to land transactions. Ava had been busy.
He stepped back outside where he made a call to the local authorities and asked for the chief of the local police department. Davis O’Connor was a man he’d contacted earlier. He liked to be prepared for such things. You never knew when you might need police assistance, especially in his field. He had been proactive this time too and had made sure that the law knew who he was, but not precisely what he was about.
Now they had a murder and he knew they wouldn’t be returning to Miami, at least not immediately. There was the hurricane warning affecting flights into the area. But more importantly, this had to be reported. It was pretty much a given that the police would want them to hang around. A fair enough request as long as he could keep Ava safe.
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