by Koontz, Rena
After they stopped in the departing passengers’ lane, Clay whispered, “Stay in the van until I tell you.”
He retrieved their bags from the rear compartment, tipped the driver, and made sure the old man was inside the terminal before leaning inside the vehicle. “C’mon, honey. Do you still feel like you are going to yak?” It was enough to send the driver around to the other side.
He helped Cassidy to the pavement and hustled her through the sliding glass doors into the noisy, congested terminal.
“Clay, what’s wrong?” she whispered, leaning into him as they walked. He stopped at the check-in lane for their airline. Slowly, he reached in his jacket pocket and retrieved his phone, touched the screen, then turned it for Cassidy to see.
Maggie’s text message read: “You’ve been compromised.”
Chapter Twenty
This was bullcrap. Tony DelMorrie bunched his shirttail into the waistband of his sagging pants. He was “The” Tony DelMorrie, head of a syndicate on the West Coast. Underlings answered to him, not the other way around.
Yet, here he was, obediently walking into The Drip Stick, answering Johnny Tanzini’s summons. It stuck in his craw big time. What was he going to say? The little bitch was somewhere, but he couldn’t find her? Might as well stand there with his dick in his hand like the stooge he’d sound like. Hate was too mild a word for his feelings toward Cassidy Bitch Hoake.
Holy hell, it was almost midnight and the coffee shop was crowded. How did these people sleep after guzzling all this caffeine? Two pieces of red velvet cake on serving plates passed him on a tray and he repressed a gag.
A skinny waiter directed him to the far rear table, the one closest to the door that led to Tanzini’s office. “May I serve you some coffee while you wait?” Head to toe he screamed light in the loafers, making DelMorrie’s skin crawl. “Yeah, sure. Regular, black.” Christ, he’d be up all night.
With twenty-seven freakin’ varieties available, the waiter frowned at the bland choice, but nodded and scurried to the serving counter. Moisture dampened his armpits. If the roles were reversed and this was his turf, he’d be ready to order an intruder out of town by the time the sun rose. And then, he’d whack the guy before he walked out of the building, just as a matter of principle. And like it or not, he was an intruder on Tanzini’s turf. He’d look like an ass backing out of this coffee shop when he made his exit, but that was his plan. Tanzini wasn’t stupid enough to bring cops to his own doorstep to investigate a shooting, but DelMorrie wasn’t going to let his guard down one minute, just in case. His body temperature hiked several degrees when the waiter motioned for him to go into the backroom.
Tanzini rose from a wooden desk the size of a Camaro, his hand outstretched.
“Tony, welcome. Did you get some coffee? How about a cigar?” He recognized the black and gold band immediately when Tanzini eased a Cuban Cohiba from his jacket pocket. DelMorrie’s bowels gurgled. Christ, he was going to get whacked right here.
Tanzini motioned for him to sit and he did, regretting immediately that he responded so obediently. They were equals, he reminded himself.
Tanzini smiled, showing more teeth than most and reminding Tony of a horse. “I’ve got some good news for you, my friend. We know where the young lady you are interested in is. In fact, it appears that she is headed into your neck of the woods. I think this could be the beginning of a fine partnership, Tony, seeing as how I have a vested interest in her now.”
Tony blinked once, twice, processing what Tanzini had just said. “Non capisco. I don’t understand.”
“I’m saying we found your girl.” Tony stared at the photo Johnny Tanzini slid across his desk of a couple getting into a car at what looked like an interstate rest stop. He disregarded the man and focused on the woman. An oversized jacket virtually swallowed her and with that long, blond hair and the huge eyeglasses, her face was barely discernible.
This meeting wasn’t going at all the way he’d figured and he was confused, a feeling he didn’t like. “Who are they?”
Tanzini taped the photo, his forefinger connecting on the woman’s head. “This is Cassidy Hoake. Pretty good disguise, eh? He moved his finger onto the man’s face. “This is Clay Cestra. Police Officer Clay Cestra. That’s a turd in the punchbowl because I’m not in the business of knocking off cops. But we can work out those details.”
Tanzini checked his Rolex. “Right now, those two should be boarding a plane to your hometown. Hopefully, your contacts can figure out where they are staying and,” he placed his hands together as if praying, “with some luck, the little lady will meet with an unfortunate accident.” He winked at DelMorrie. “You know what I mean?”
He bolted upright in his chair and snatched the photo from beneath Tanzini’s lacquered fingernail.
“Holy crap! Are you sure?”
Tanzini nodded.
“Where’s this taken? How long ago?”
Now Tanzini sat up straight, eyeing him warily. “We managed to discover their travel plans. It’s unfortunate that the cop is involved, but he’s been in her pants, which makes him part of the equation. Don’t get so excited. Barney Fife is a complication, especially since he’s escorting her back to testify against you. You’ve got some dirty laundry hanging out there, a rather major snag that you neglected to mention. I don’t appreciate you’re not being honest with me. This has to be handled properly. But I think it’s doable.”
Tony needed a bathroom. Sweat pooled in the crevasse between his thighs and belly. Damn, it was hot in here. At least Tanzini wasn’t crazy enough to go after a uniform.
“You sure it’s her?”
Tanzini nodded. “We got a solid source in the police department.”
“And you say they are flying back to Arizona?” A poem from his childhood popped into his head, the one about the spider luring the fly, and he smiled. Was she really walking — make that flying — right into his own backyard? Finally, things were turning in his favor.
“Don’t worry, Johnny,” he said, reaching for the cigar. “My people can handle this.”
• • •
For a moment, Cassidy feared she wouldn’t get on the plane. In her driver’s license picture, her long hair was wavy red and she didn’t wear or need glasses to drive. What made her think of that just as she approached the counter, she didn’t know, but she slipped off the glasses and tucked them in a pocket of Clay’s cargo jacket. The attendant studied the license, assessed Cassidy, reexamined the license, and raised her eyes again. Cassidy leaned into the woman, grabbing the top of the wig and lifting it slightly. “It’s a wig. He prefers blonds. Really gets him hot, if you get my meaning.” She winked and tugged the hair back in place.
The attendant glared at Clay momentarily, then processed the ticket declaring loudly, “You should find a man who accepts you the way you are.”
Cassidy suppressed a giggle watching the woman rudely validate Clay’s ticket. They received boarding passes and seat assignments and made their way to the security line. Clay hadn’t said a word since showing her Maggie’s text message. His eyes scrutinized everyone, while his head pivoted from side to side. If it could revolve in a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree swivel, she imagined he’d be happier.
He hadn’t released her elbow and now he pulled her out of line. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “We’re not getting on this plane, c’mon.” The warmth of his breath seeped down her neck, beneath her shirt, and into her heart. She’d follow this man anywhere.
“What’s going on?” she asked between huffs, trying to keep up with his long strides.
“I can’t explain it now,” he said, those eyes still canvassing the terminal, “just trust me.”
“I do trust you. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Be careful. I might ask you to marry me.” She wished he had looked at her
when he said it, so she could see his face, see if he was joking or if there was even a hint of forever in his eyes. As it was, he propelled them through the airport at lightning speed, nudged her through another check-in line, and before she knew it, they sat in chairs at Gate B24 waiting for a plane to Cleveland. With their backs against the wall, he noticeably relaxed, but his perusal of their surroundings continued.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so no one could hear him speak. “Something went wrong. I don’t know what. It must be something inside the police department, otherwise that text would have come from Dan. The fact that Maggie sent it tells me I can’t call him.”
“Are you sure?”
Idly, he rubbed his thumb along the outside of her right ear and she closed her eyes to preserve the memory. “Maggie has never sent a three-word text in her life. Her texts go on and on, like a high school essay. That’s Dan’s message.”
“So what do we do now?”
Clay squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his forehead. “I’m not sure, Cass.” His eyes dimmed and her heart lurched.
“Why are we flying to Cleveland? Isn’t that the wrong direction from where we want to end up?”
“We’re going back to Ohio because that’s where the cavalry waits. I won’t take a chance on unknown backup in Arizona. But it means I’m taking you right back into Tony DelMorrie’s reach.” He released a frustrated sigh.
Words escaped her. She should be frightened out of her wits, but beside this man, who emanated so much warmth and protection it wrapped her in a giant bear hug, she remained calm.
He misinterpreted her silence.
“I’m sorry, I let you down. You have a right to be scared. I assured you we could return safely and make this whole DelMorrie thing go away and I was wrong.”
She turned soft eyes to him. “Clay, please. I’m not scared, not with you by my side. I meant what I said. I’ll follow you wherever you go and I’ll do whatever you think is best. Don’t waste time worrying about me. How do you think we were found out?”
“I don’t know. If there is a leak, where? This was a need-to-know assignment. Only my chief and Dan know what’s going on, and I swear on my life it’s not either of them.”
“But you had to talk to that secretary this afternoon to reach Dan. Maybe she overheard the conversation.”
He swung his head to stare at her without really seeing her, no doubt mentally weighing the suggestion that the chief’s assistant factored into this betrayal.
He shrugged. “I don’t see it but maybe. What it tells me is we can’t talk to anyone. We’re on our own until Dan reaches out to us.” The gate agent called their flight, but Clay held her arm, waiting until all of the passengers were on board before moving Cassidy to the portal. His head never stopped pivoting.
• • •
The hum of the engines and the sheer terror of the day combined to defeat her efforts to stay awake. She woke at Clay’s gentle urging, sleepily realizing her head nestled on his shoulder.
Clay retrieved their bags from the overhead compartment and locked his hand on her shoulder while they moved single file down the narrow aisle and off the plane. At this hour, well after midnight, the airport was relatively empty.
“What are we going to do?” she asked when Clay reached for her hand.
“Let’s get a room for the night. I’m exhausted. Tomorrow we’ll rent a car and drive south.”
“I hate to remind you, but it’s already tomorrow. Will we drive to the police station or return to your apartment?”
Her heart tugged when she looked at the dark circles ringing his eyes and their muted hue. He looked tired and confused, like a lost little boy.
“We can’t go to either of those places, honey. We are nomads at the moment. I hope Dan figures out how to communicate with us. I’m too tired to think rationally about what to do next. Tired isn’t good, it will make me sloppy. We’ll decide later, okay?”
She offered her best reassuring smile. “That’s fine, Clay. We’ll figure something out.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Clay slept until almost eleven, waking to discover Cassidy bent over her laptop, her fingers tapping the keyboard. He watched her, smiling at the wrinkles on her forehead as she concentrated.
“Hey you, hi,” he whispered, stretching the kinks from his back and legs.
She rewarded him with a bright smile. “Hi yourself. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
He shook his head. She had showered and put on clean clothes. Her face shined with the little bit of makeup she wore and her spiked hair framed her face. The complimentary newspaper lay in sections on the floor. “What are you looking at that makes you frown like that?”
She flashed a confident smile. “I’m plotting our next move. Or at least trying to figure out some options.”
Clay sat up, threw his legs over the side of the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “Oh? What’d you come up with?”
Her eyes gleamed as she reported the different flights they could take from Cleveland to Phoenix, consulting notes she’d written on the hotel tablet. She’d also mapped out several driving routes, in the event Clay opted for ground travel. With all that had happened and gone wrong, she wasn’t giving up the fight. She was ready to start another journey with him into the unknown.
He admitted a new admiration for her. He’d asked her to trust him and she did, unconditionally.
“Of course, none of that could matter if Dan says we should return to the police station,” she said, reining his thoughts back in to the moment. “But I haven’t heard your phone vibrate.”
He checked his cell phone for messages. Nothing.
“I’ll shower and we can discuss our options while we get something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Twenty minutes later, he stood before the full-length mirror tucking his Polo shirt into his jeans. Sleep and the hot water worked wonders. His thoughts were clearer and he was centered again. Cassidy reached for the room service menu.
“Why don’t you go blond for me and we’ll go downstairs to the hotel restaurant?”
Her eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning opening a new toy. She jumped from the loveseat and retrieved the wig from the desk. Dutifully she added the glasses, turned with her palms spread wide, and grinned. “Ready.”
“Is this a good idea?” she asked when the elevator doors closed and they started their descent.
Clay shrugged. “Well, by now I suspect they know we weren’t on that plane to Arizona. The advantage we have is that they aren’t looking for Clay and Eliza Kinge, so they shouldn’t be able to track us here. To our disadvantage, we don’t know what is happening at home, so we can’t go back there yet. I have a mind to just chill here for a day or two or until Dan can get word to us.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“I wish I knew, hon.”
“Can’t you call Maggie? After all, you are her brother.”
“No. Dan will make contact when it’s safe.”
He waited until they were seated and had ordered lunch before continuing. “Cass, do you know how to shoot?”
She gasped and clutched her hands to her throat. “No. I don’t like guns.”
He arched an eyebrow. “If you live with a cop, you have to learn to live with guns. Guns don’t kill, irrational people with guns do.”
“That’s a political debate.”
He cocked his head. “You don’t blame the car for a fatal traffic accident, do you?”
She lowered her gaze to the tabletop.
“Ever handle a gun?”
Her head snapped up and she shook it, wide-eyed. “As long as I stay with you, why would I need one?”
“As m
uch as I’m enjoying this time with you, ignoring the circumstances of course, I can’t be with you every minute. Right now, if you need to use the ladies room, you have to walk to the front of this restaurant and out of my sight.”
“You could come with me.”
He smiled at her quick solution. It was the first time he’d done that in days. They were running for their lives and she still could make him smile, like a bright ray of sunshine after a long, gray winter. He hoped they could get through this and he could look forward to her sunshine every day.
“And call attention to both of us while I stand outside the bathroom door? I don’t think so.”
“Well then, I’ll just hold it.” Now he laughed out loud.
“I have a better idea. I have a small pistol in my briefcase. We’ll go over the basics of firearm safety and shooting when we get back to the room. I want you to know how to use it in case of an emergency.”
She swallowed so hard her Adam’s apple jumped. “Are you going to make me carry it?”
“Not right away.” Their meals arrived and the conversation ceased.
• • •
After lunch, she convinced Clay to send their dirty clothes to the hotel laundry, paying extra to have them ready by noon the next day. Now, she sat beside him on the bed, their thighs touching, her right arm rubbing against the muscles in his left arm as he explained the mechanics of the black mini-Glock .40-caliber pistol. He handled it like a feather, but clutched in her hand, her biceps strained to keep it level.
“Lock your wrist.”
She did, using her other hand to level the weapon. Sleek and cold in her grip, she couldn’t imagine actually aiming and firing the way Clay was demonstrating now.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.”
No. She concentrated on the nausea, willing her lunch to stay down, forcing herself to stay at his side, focusing her eyes on the weapon without really seeing, silently praying that she would never, ever have to do what he was explaining.