He slid across the ground on his backside, until he was sitting next to the front of the vehicle, the front fender at his shoulder, and then twisted round until he could peer round the corner.
Sean and Dani were hurrying from the building towards Nina’s father’s pick-up truck, throwing their bags into the back of it.
Dani wrenched open the passenger door and climbed in, her short stature belying the evil that emanated from her. She slammed the door, then wound down the window and called to Sean.
He jogged over to her, and Ross watched as a heated exchange took place before Sean threw up his hands in exasperation and stalked across to one of the bowsers.
Ross’s heart lurched.
He knew that the fuel company had returned and emptied the tank beneath the truck stop weeks ago, but he wondered whether they’d drained the fuel lines completely.
Or whether any residual fuel in the lines would set off a chain reaction with fumes from the empty tank.
Or whether he was sitting on a bomb that was about to go off.
He tore his jacket off, ripped out the cotton lining and tied it around the gunshot wound to his leg. Once satisfied the makeshift bandage would hold, he began to crawl away from the pick-up truck and the fuel bowsers, trying to put as much distance as he could between them.
Each time his leg dragged along the ground, he whimpered in pain, tears coursing down his cheeks, but he kept going.
He peered over his shoulder at the sound of loud cursing.
Sean was kicking the fuel bowser, swearing, and pointing at the useless trigger. In response, Dani waved her arms, pointing to the empty road.
Ross watched Sean as he threw the fuel line to the floor and ran to the open driver’s door of the truck.
The engine roared to life, and the vehicle lurched onto the road, its wheels spinning until Sean eased off the accelerator, and then sped into the darkness.
Ross let his head fall back to the ground as the noise of the truck engine was lost to the night and let the rain wash over him.
He took deep breaths, trying to manage the pain that coursed through his leg, his whole body willing him into unconsciousness and oblivion from the agony, and then clenched his teeth and changed his focus to the open door to the truck stop.
He began to crawl again, every agonising movement accompanied by just one thought.
Nina.
18
The rain lashed against Nina’s skin, ice-cold darts that pierced her flesh, stinging as the motorbike sped away from the truck stop.
She choked back tears and wondered how on earth she’d forgive herself if anything happened to Ross. She silently cursed the man behind her.
FBI agent or not, he had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
He shifted against her body, and she became aware of a breeze on her left shoulder where he’d leaned back slightly, easing the pressure on his wound.
Nina kept a wary eye on the fuel gauge, but at half-full, the huge tank showed no signs of being damaged by gunshots.
She began to shiver, her jacket and thin shirt soaked through. Her clothes whipped against her skin in the biting wind while water puddled in her seat, drenching her jeans.
Numb, she flexed her fingers on the handlebars and then brought the machine back to a steady cruising speed.
Kyle leaned forward. ‘How much further into town?’
‘Another couple of miles,’ she said, then frowned and changed down a gear, slowing the motorbike.
As the road straightened out, an abandoned car appeared on the horizon.
‘Is that…?’
Kyle placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Stop about twenty yards before we get there.’
Nina did as she was told and brought the bike to a stop on the asphalt where he’d indicated. She lowered her feet to the ground and left it running in first gear.
They sat for a moment, staring at the vehicle in front of them.
The driver’s and passenger’s doors had been left open, the vehicle at a skewed angle to the road, its front fender dipping into the mud-soaked verge. Its headlights were off, and Nina realised the battery must have died.
She squinted through the rain. ‘I can’t see anyone.’
The bike shifted under her as Kyle dismounted awkwardly. She heard him grunt in pain as he jolted his shoulder.
He stared at the abandoned car before his gaze returned to her.
‘Stay here. There’s no need for you to see this.’ He began to move away, then seemed to have second thoughts and looked over his shoulder. ‘Keep the engine running,’ he called. ‘And stay sharp. They’re going to be following us.’
Nina swallowed, raised her hand in reply, and focused her attention on the road behind. She swore.
‘I knew I never should have come back.’
***
Kyle approached the car at a steady pace, his senses alert to the abandoned vehicle and the undergrowth that encroached on either side of the road.
He instinctively reached to his waistband and then cursed. Without a gun, he felt naked, exposed.
The pick-up truck had been driven off the road, onto the ragged edge of the asphalt where it met the verge.
He slowed, his pace dictated by caution – and experience. He stepped across to the opposite side of the road as he drew closer, so that his silhouette wouldn’t be seen in the vehicle’s mirrors if Hudson’s people had left a trap for him.
Beyond his position, the swollen creek roared, the water churning over the concrete bridge that had been swamped under the deluge that had drenched the valley. The crash of debris hitting the metal girders filled the air, masking any other noises around him.
His vulnerability out in the open threatened him, fighting against every training scenario and hands-on experience he’d encountered, and he fought down the urge to hurry. He had one chance at this, and he had to get it right.
Kyle spotted the edge of the flood line lapping at the road surface only metres from the vehicle and watched it for a moment, checking the water level wasn’t rising any further.
The last thing he wanted was to be swept away in the vehicle, trapped under the raging torrent as it tore through the valley.
Satisfied the water level had peaked, he continued to approach the car, his breathing calm, his heartbeat solid, steadied by the adrenalin coursing through his veins.
The hiss of the rain on the asphalt masked his footsteps, and, as he walked, he thought briefly of the woman who had driven him away from danger.
He knew Ross had spoken fondly of her to John, almost putting her on a pedestal in his enthusiasm when he’d learned she’d be returning to Mistake Creek.
He wondered, briefly, what their history was. She was strong and capable, yet there was a vulnerability there he’d seen – the way she’d turned to Ross for reassurance as they’d been hiding at the truck stop.
He pushed the thought aside, ducked as he drew near the vehicle, and jogged towards it, dropping to a crouch as he drew level with the open passenger door.
A flash of lightning coursed across the night sky, illuminating the front seats, and Kyle cursed, turning his head.
He blinked to recover his night vision, the image of blood spatter across the inside of the vehicle’s windshield and dashboard imprinted on his eyelids.
No stranger to death, he took a few precious seconds to gather his thoughts, to breathe, and to steel himself for the next steps he knew he’d have to take.
Once his night vision had recovered sufficiently, he reached out and pushed the door open further so he could search the vehicle. He hauled himself into the passenger seat, gritted his teeth, and checked the body of the man slumped across the steering wheel.
‘Sorry, John,’ he murmured as he worked through his pockets, keeping his gaze averted from his partner’s unfocused staring eyes.
The dead man’s clothes were soaked through from the rain that had blown through the open door in the hours that he’d lain there, and Kyle pulled ou
t a thin fold of sodden dollar bills, tossing them to the floor. A bulge in the other pocket revealed a cigarette lighter, a familiar embossed logo stamped into the metal casing. He returned it to John’s pocket, leaned back, and tried to picture what had happened.
He figured the attacker had wrenched open the driver’s door and shot John at close range before he’d had a chance to react. The killing bullet had been low calibre, jerking John’s body backwards, before he’d slumped onto the wheel.
A dark stain covered the head rest of the seat, and for a moment, he wondered if John had been stunned by the force of the vehicle leaving the road, or had tried to manoeuvre the vehicle while his killer had approached, knowing that he faced a cold-blooded execution.
He shook his head to clear the thought, cursed as his search through John’s clothing yielded nothing further, and sat back in the passenger seat.
His head snapped up at a faint sound carrying across the noise of the wind and rain, and he leaned on the vehicle’s door.
‘Kyle!’
He launched his body out of the seat, then stepped onto the running board and raised himself until he was standing, leaning on the roof of the car for support, and craned his neck.
Nina was still on the motorbike, her feet planted on the ground each side of it, frantically waving to him, before looking over her shoulder.
He raised his gaze and swore.
Headlights approached from the distance, only a few miles away.
Minutes.
He squinted through the rain towards the swollen creek. Its angry roar echoed with the thunder shaking the skies, and he punched the roof of the vehicle in frustration.
They wouldn’t be able to cross it for days, even using the tough adventure bike they’d escaped on.
Nina called his name again, her voice urgent, carried away on the wind.
Kyle dropped back into the seat and began pulling at the fabric lining of the door panel, his fingernails tearing at the seams.
He cursed as a small piece of fabric fell away, leaving a hole too small for his hand. He gritted his teeth, and pulled again at the cloth, until he pulled a strip of material away. He pushed his fingers underneath, then tugged until the lining tore, and caught the gun that fell from the concealed pocket.
Tucking it into his waistband to keep his hands free, he pushed his fingers back into the lining and felt around until he found a spare magazine of ammunition, which he pocketed. Further back, he found what he was really looking for.
His fingers wrapped around the small rectangular object, and he pulled.
Gripping the satellite phone, he switched it on. He slipped out of the passenger seat and jogged round to the driver’s side of the vehicle while he waited for the phone to power up.
He gently pushed John’s body to one side so he could perch on the driver’s seat while he worked. Tearing the fabric from the inside of the door, he slipped the more important contents into his pocket, ignoring the hidden case notes that flapped from the ruined panel, catching in the wind, and concentrated on the phone.
It was fully charged, and he breathed a sigh of relief, then cursed when he saw the signal levels.
Nothing.
He lowered himself back into the vehicle and stuffed the satellite phone into his pocket. His gaze fell to his dead partner slumped in the driver’s seat. There’d be one more thing he’d have to do before he left the scene.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I wish there was another way.’
He leaned forward and pulled John’s shirt from his waistband, then tore a length of fabric away. Reaching into the dead man’s pockets, he felt around until his fingers clasped hold of a metallic object he’d previously left alone, and pulled.
The cigarette lighter glistened in contrast to the gloom of the vehicle, and he gritted his teeth, wishing a better end for his colleague.
‘Kyle! Hurry!’
Nina’s voice galvanised him into action.
He patted the dead man on the shoulder, flicked the fuel cap release in the side of the driver’s door, then stepped out of the car and hurried round the side of the vehicle.
Pulling open the fuel cap, he stuffed the length of shirt into the gaping hole, until only a fraction of the material remained. He flicked the cigarette lighter.
The flame died as quickly as it had appeared.
‘Fuck!’
19
Kyle tapped the side of the cigarette lighter on the palm of his hand and then flicked it once more.
A yellow flame shot upwards, and he jerked his head out of the way as it flared.
‘Shit!’
He checked the satellite phone and gun were secure and then took a deep breath. He’d have seconds, at most.
He exhaled and thrust the cigarette lighter at the material. A momentary realisation hit him that he had no idea how much fuel was left in the tank. He held his breath until the flame caught, and then he fled.
He powered his legs along the wet asphalt, his ears straining for the familiar crump of the flames taking hold.
The air rushed past him as the fire devoured the oxygen in the immediate vicinity, sucking it back in the direction of the vehicle, before he was thrown forward with the force of the fire shooting out across the road.
He had a split second to turn his body to avoid landing on his injured shoulder, then grunted as his body met the surface of the road. He rolled, covering his face and neck with his jacket.
Searing heat passed over him, and he heard something metallic strike the asphalt close to where he lay, spat out by the flames.
As the noise from the initial roar of the fire died, he opened his eyes at the sound of an approaching motorbike.
The front wheel stopped inches from his nose.
‘Get up!’ Nina screamed. ‘They’re nearly here!’
He scrambled to his feet, and then used the gun to smash the front and rear lights.
‘What are you doing?’ yelled Nina. ‘I won’t be able to see.’
‘We can’t risk them spotting us straight away,’ he said.
She held the bike steady while he threw his body into the pillion seat.
‘Go!’ he yelled.
Nina flicked her wrist, easing out the clutch and gently releasing the throttle, in anticipation of the surge of power from the engine beneath her.
Instead, it died.
Kyle peered round her body and stared at the dials, trying to comprehend what had happened.
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing!’ she shouted over her shoulder.
‘Shit. Hang on.’
Nina struggled to hold the bike upright as he clambered off and fell into a crouch next to the front wheel.
‘The wire’s fallen out,’ he said. ‘Don’t move your feet. It’s got to be here somewhere.’
Nina planted her feet and moved her head from side to side, her eyes searching for the elusive piece of wire while Kyle held the cigarette lighter in his hand, the flame sputtering in the wind.
‘Here!’
He moved sideways and held up the wire.
‘Hurry,’ Nina urged. She pointed over his shoulder – the headlights were bearing down on them, only a mile away, approaching the curve in the road.
Once the vehicle rounded the corner, they’d be caught in its powerful beams.
Kyle turned back to the motorbike, wrapped the wire back into its temporary housing, and then stood up as the ignition lights flickered to life.
Nina pressed the starter.
The lights flickered, and then died.
‘Shit.’
Kyle bent down again, absorbed in his work.
Adrenalin coursed through his body, yet his movements were calm and measured as he twisted the wire, trying to complete the circuit.
After what seemed an age, the ignition lights shone.
Nina flexed her fingers around the throttle lever, and Kyle closed his eyes and crossed his fingers.
Please let this work.
His eyes shot open as the engine caught. He let out a triumphant shout, before climbing onto the bike and threading his arm around her waist.
‘Get out of here!’
***
Nina shook her head to clear the tears from her line of vision.
Her arms ached from steering the motorbike over the rough uneven surface of the farm track they’d been following for the past few miles, and the cold rain froze her to the bone. Her clothes were soaked, the wind chill adding to her discomfort.
She checked the mirrors again, searching for any obvious signs of a pursuit, but it appeared that her quick thinking at taking the muddy track away from the main road had paid dividends.
When she’d first made the decision to leave the main road, Kyle had cursed, demanding she turn around.
He’d fallen silent when she’d explained the track was a fire trail, designed to run between the farming properties to offer protection should the unthinkable happen and a fire take hold.
It offered them an escape route away from their pursuers and, hopefully, to rescue.
Nina had pulled over onto the side of the track after half a mile, and they’d waited, peering through a break in the trees at the highway below as Sean and Dani had left their stolen pick-up truck and approached the burning vehicle.
An argument had ensued, and Dani had kicked the side of the pick-up truck before they’d jumped back in and turned back in the opposite direction to the creek.
‘What do you think they’re doing?’ asked Nina.
‘No time to worry about it,’ Kyle had said. ‘Get going.’
She sniffled, the man behind her oblivious to his surroundings now. He appeared to be exhausted, his body slumped against hers, his breath warm on her neck.
But she’d seen another side to him. The calculated way in which he’d approached the abandoned car spoke volumes about the story Ross had told her.
FBI agent.
As she guided the bike’s wheels through another series of deep potholes, she ignored the pained grunt from Kyle and instead wondered what division of the FBI he worked for.
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 31