Star Witness

by Mallory Kane

  They headed across the street and ducked under an overhang. Without the rain beating down on them, they both leaned gratefully against the side of the building, trying to catch their breaths.

  Suddenly, the whole street lit up as another flash of lightning ripped through the sky, followed by a deafening roar. The rain, which was already a downpour, now fell in sheets.

  “Harte—” Dani cried.

  He blinked as he desperately tried to see through the beating rain. It was dangerous and stupid to stumble blindly around without knowing where they were headed.

  He’d studied the streets near the B & B, but the combination of the rain and the darkness was doubly disorienting, and there was no hope of reading a street sign from more than a few inches away.

  “Harte!” She tugged on his shirtsleeve and stood on tiptoe to get close to his ear. “Look. The headlights aren’t moving.”

  He focused on the pallid, blurry spots of the headlights. They were still. He blinked and looked again. The vehicle was still moving, but more slowly. Then he noticed dark shadows in front of it, heading in their direction. But he couldn’t tell how many. Two? Three?

  “It’s them!” Dani cried.

  Harte tightened his hand around her wrist and jerked her with him as he ran unevenly, gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankle.

  He spotted a darker rectangle in the midst of the gray. The entrance to the alley? God, he hoped so. If he was wrong, they’d be sitting ducks. He sped up, tightening his grip on Dani’s wrist.

  But moving forward through the rain was like pushing through a maze of heavy drapes while fording a stream, because the water rushing around their feet was at least three inches deep, making the roads slippery. And the pain in his ankle wasn’t helping. He stumbled and his fingers slipped off Dani’s wrist.

  That quickly, she was gone.

  Dani lost her footing when her hand slid out of Harte’s grip. Her knee hit the wet pavement, hard. With a small cry she tried to regain her footing. But the road was too slippery; the rain pressed on her shoulders like a heavy hand and she was quickly losing strength from fighting it.

  Where was Harte? She squinted through the rain and held her breath, listening. The drumming roar of the rain was confusing and disorienting. It was impossible to tell where any sound came from.

  Straining, she thought she heard Harte’s voice calling her name. But she couldn’t tell for sure. Heading in what she hoped was the right direction, she was tempted to call out, but what if it wasn’t him? Was she heading toward Harte or was she about to plow right into her pursuers?

  She wiped her face on her sleeve, for all the good it did, and pushed her heavy, soaked hair back.

  At that instant, the roar in her ears changed in pitch. She squinted, as if that would help her see. A dark rumble rose from beneath the rain’s din. The sound was not thunder, but mechanical, rhythmic. Like a car engine.

  Frightened by the closeness of the sound, she felt the hairs on the nape of her neck prickling. She blinked, trying to see. Why didn’t Harte call out again? She couldn’t tell which way to run. The rumble grew louder, seeming to surround her.

  Lightning flashed. She swallowed a shriek and barely stopped herself from diving to the ground, but from what little she could see around her, she was in the middle of a street, completely exposed. Thunder cracked and roared. She moaned in fear and frustration as she trudged on.

  Pushing against the rising, punishing wind, she squinted, looking for anything she could use for shelter. A dark building loomed just ahead. Her pulse jumped in excitement.

  She trudged toward it, hoping to slip into an alley or a corner where the car couldn’t go, praying that she could find Harte.

  As she wiped rain off her nose, she thought she heard his voice again. But then a car door slammed right behind her. That sound was unmistakable—and way too close. Terror crawled up her spine and twisted her insides. She had to run. Lowering her head, she pressed forward, her legs beginning to ache with the effort of pushing against the wind and rain. She prayed she was going in the right direction.

  The rain, the lightning and her imagination were distorting everything—what she saw, what she heard. She squinted against the gray rain. She could no longer see the building she’d been headed for.

  Her toe struck something and sent her sprawling. Her hands took the brunt of the fall, sliding and scraping across rough wet concrete, and her shin banged painfully against a hard edge. She bit her cheek to keep from crying out.

  She’d tripped over a curb. Behind her, heavy footsteps reverberated across the ground. She didn’t dare turn around to see, but she knew from the sound that they were almost on top of her. With a great deal of effort, she managed to get her feet under her and gain some traction. Just as she straightened, a bright flash of lightning lit the street. This time she couldn’t resist. She turned to look.

  A large dark form barreled toward her, too big and broad to be Harte. In the same second, she heard Harte’s voice clearly.

  “Dani!”

  But it was impossible to pinpoint where it had come from. Directly in front of her? Ahead and to the left? She heard the man chasing her and wondered if she had time to dig her gun out of her purse. But he was too close. So close she could see color beginning to seep through the gray. The dark blob turned to a dull tan, and as he lumbered toward her she realized that it was a raincoat with the collar turned up. Although she’d already figured out that it wasn’t Harte, still her throat seized, cutting off her breath.

  She tried to run and almost fell again when she put her weight on her knee. “Harte! Here! They’re after me!” she screamed. She didn’t care if the man in the raincoat heard her. He was so close that she imagined she could hear his heaving breaths over the downpour. Letting Harte know her location was her only chance.

  “Harte!” she shouted again, but her voice was gobbled up by thunder. Then a strong hand grabbed the back of her shirt and jerked her off her feet.

  Chapter Nine

  Harte heard Dani’s terrified scream, cut off by thunder, but he couldn’t tell where she was. He’d been retracing his steps ever since he lost hold of her hand. She should have been only a few feet behind him, if she’d stayed put. She must have gotten turned around and been moving away from him all this time.

  He heard another short cry. Had they found her? He pushed forward, praying that the shriek he’d heard had just been her startled reaction to the thunder and lightning.

  Then he saw it. A big black shadow, rising out of the mist. The car. He slowed down, cautiously keeping an eye on it. Then he detected another difference in the constant gray of rain and wind. He wiped his face, then blinked. He saw movement. Something large and brown and vaguely human shaped. It had to be one of Yeoman’s men.

  Did he have Dani? Harte couldn’t tell. He moved slowly and steadily toward the man, hoping not to attract notice. But then he caught a splash of red—her shirt. Adrenaline burned through him like flaming jet fuel.

  The man did have her. He was dragging her toward the car.

  Harte had only one chance and it was a slim one. Balancing himself on his right foot, he dove, aiming at the man’s knees. He hit what felt like solid rock. The impact rattled his teeth and echoed in his head, but the man fell like a dead tree, slamming into the pavement.

  Harte ducked and rolled out of his way. He came to rest not ten inches from the front fender of the car. It was smashed and the headlights were broken—damaged, no doubt, from ramming Dani’s front porch. Glancing over his shoulder, Harte saw the big man flip over onto his stomach. He waved his arms and legs like a turtle, trying to get his hands underneath him. Too soon, the man managed to get to his hands and knees. He shook his massive head and made a noise that echoed through the pounding rain like a lion’s roar. Then he propelled himself forward.

  Harte scrambled to his feet. The goon had brute strength going for him, but he was about as graceful as a bull elephant. Harte heard his sawing breaths com
ing closer and closer.

  Harte waited until the last possible second, hoping that the other man was as disoriented by the rain as he was, before diving out of the way. Luckily, the brute had built up enough momentum that he couldn’t stop. He obviously counted on Harte to break his fall. He hit the ground, hard.

  Harte regained his balance and looked inside the attacker’s car. It was empty. Dani wasn’t there. Hot fear pulsed through him. Where was she? Did one of the other men have her?

  And where were the other three men?

  Were they on foot, sneaking around to ambush him, or had they taken Dani somewhere? As he turned, he caught a glimpse of a dark figure rising from behind a trash receptacle. Another man rose right beside him. Before he could react, both men lifted their arms and he heard the unmistakable crack of gunfire muffled by the rain. Before the shots faded, he heard Dani scream behind him.

  “Dani!” he yelled, whirling and spotting a splash of red through the gray curtain of rain. It was Dani! She was on the ground, several feet away from the car. His gut clenched. Had she been hit?

  He sprang toward her, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and yanking her upright, quickly scanning her clothes for blood. He didn’t see any. “Are you hit?” he yelled.

  “No!” She shook her head. “Are you?”

  Behind them, he heard car doors opening and closing. He tried to count, but the sounds were too muffled by the storm. Maybe two, maybe three. The men had gotten back into the car.

  “They’re in the car. Run!” he shouted before pumping his legs, pulling her with him. Behind them, more gunshots rang out and he heard men shouting. He pulled her behind a parked van.

  “Get that shirt off!” he cried.

  “What? My shirt?”

  He turned her around and grabbed the collar, jerking it over her head. “It’s too bright.”

  After tossing it over a nearby parking meter, Harte pointed toward a narrow alleyway in front of them and yelled in her ear, “Through there!” Grabbing her arm, he tightened his grip. He wasn’t going to lose her again.

  Dani half ran, half stumbled alongside Harte. The only thing that kept her from collapsing onto the drenched pavement was the painful grasp of his hand on her arm—the same arm the thug had bruised when he’d grabbed her.

  She could hear the pop-pop-pop of gunfire behind them, and her shoulders tightened reflexively. Then she heard the deep revving of a car engine. Harte had stunned her attacker enough to make him let go of her, but they were in their car now, and it would be no time until they caught up with them again. She could barely catch her breath in the rain, and in only her white tank top, the chill had long since seeped under her skin. She gritted her teeth and concentrated on staying on her feet. As Harte led her into the dark recesses of the alley, she glanced around in trepidation. She hoped he knew where he was going.

  The overhanging roofs gave a bit of protection from the rain. Once they were safely underneath, Harte slowed to a walk, then to a stop.

  Dani wiped her face and squeezed water out of her hair as she gulped in huge lungfuls of air. All at once, a massive shudder shook her, a delayed reaction to the brutish thug’s hand on her. Between that and the cold, she couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Harte, are you shot?” she panted. She didn’t see any blood, but he hadn’t answered her when she’d asked before.

  Beside her, Harte leaned against the building’s wall. He shook his head, breathing hard. After a few seconds, he straightened and looked toward the entrance of the alley, listening. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to keep going.”

  “Where?” she asked as he grabbed her hand.

  A bit of brightness behind them rose through the gray like a hazy sunrise. “It’s the car,” he said. “Move!”

  But as he moved into the alley, he saw that it was a dead end. A high wooden fence stretched between the two buildings. They were trapped. Twisting back, Harte could see the headlights. They’d blocked the entrance of the alley. He saw two men climbing out, then a third.

  Without waiting to see if a fourth man got out, Harte pushed Dani behind him so his body would shield her as he desperately searched for an escape. Even if they could climb the fence, they’d be sitting ducks. Then he saw a door set into a side wall. “This way,” he said. “Stay behind me.”

  He rattled the doorknob, then stepped back and rammed the door with his shoulder. Nothing happened. He took two steps back, prepared to ram the door again, but Dani grabbed his arm.

  “Get out of the way! I’ve got this!” Dani cried. She grabbed the lock-pick set from her purse and unsnapped the cover. Her hands were soaking wet, just like the rest of her, and shaking with cold and fear, but she managed to pick up the right tool. She shouldered her way in front of Harte, bent over the doorknob and after a shaky false start, got the pick inserted into the lock.

  Harte grabbed her upper arm. “Dani, what are you doing? They’re coming. Get behind me.”

  Gritting her teeth, she worked the pick.

  “Dani!”

  “Wait,” she snapped as the tumblers slid. “The door’s open. Let’s go.” She opened the door and grabbed his arm, pulling him inside. She kept her grip on the knob as Harte stumbled in behind her, then slammed the door shut and turned the dead bolt. They were inside and, at least for the moment, safe from the faceless men pursuing them. Collapsing back against Harte, her eyes closed, she gasped for breath. She’d done it. She’d picked the lock. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d picked all the locks in her granddad’s house, learning the feel of the tools and the faint differences between tumblers sliding apart and slipping back together. But she’d never dreamed she’d actually use her knowledge in a life-and-death situation for real.

  Her pulse was racing so fast that it echoed in her ears. Harte wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, pulling her closer against him. His chest rose and fell against her back. His breath was cool across her wet forehead. With a sigh, she let herself relax against his long, lean body. Through their wet clothes, she felt the heat of his body envelop her. A shudder, equal parts cold, fear and desire, shook her.

  “Dani?” he whispered.

  She went still. Did he want her to move? She hoped not, because she didn’t want to leave the heat of his body. She was soaked, and while April in New Orleans could hardly be called cold, even in the rain, she felt chilled to the bone.

  As she waited to see what he was going to say, she concentrated on the feel of him pressed against her. Warmth wasn’t all she needed from him now. She greedily soaked up the feelings of safety, comfort and a deep, rich yearning she’d never felt before.

  He was silent and still for a long moment. His breath had calmed, and she could feel his heart beating fast but steadily against her back. Or at least she imagined she could.

  He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “How the hell did you do that?” She felt his lips graze the sensitive skin of her ear, and her insides quivered with longing. It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

  “Oh, the lock,” she muttered; then deliberately, she turned her head so that her mouth was close to his. “I picked it,” she whispered.

  He made a small noise like a gasp as her mouth brushed his. “You what?”

  “Picked the lock. Granddad gave me his lock-pick kit when I was ten. He said, ‘You never know when you might need to get through a door.’”

  She felt his chest rumble with laughter. “That’s illegal.”

  “So sue me,” she said lightly, then turned in his arms, rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was a tentative brushing of lips against lips, but it sent desire arrowing through her, all the way down to her toes.

  Harte lifted his head slightly, and Dani moved with him, straining upward, keeping her mouth against his. For a moment that seemed suspended outside of time, he didn’t move, and then she felt him relent. It was a subtle relaxing of his tense muscles, a tiny dip of his head as he took the kiss to the next
level. She felt his tongue touch her mouth, felt his arm slide from her shoulders down her back to pull her even closer...

  She lifted her head to meet his deeper kiss, just as an odd sound broke through the steady drumbeat of the rain.

  Harte stiffened—he’d heard it too.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Do I hear shouting?” she breathed.

  He nodded. “Right outside the door,” Harte whispered as the noise suddenly stopped. He straightened slowly, his hand still around her waist. “Move away—without a sound.”

  She opened her eyes for the first time and met a solid wall of darkness. She held out her hands in front of her, trying to keep her balance. Total darkness was so disorienting. She felt as though a single misstep would send her tumbling into a bottomless pit. She wanted to close her eyes again. She wanted to be back in Harte’s arms.

  Finally, slowly, she became aware of a faint lessening of the total dark. She searched, making herself dizzy, until she found its source—small windows set high in the walls of the warehouse. At last, she had something she could look at to maintain her balance. She took one cautious step, then another. She braced herself, not wanting to crash into something.

  By her fourth step, she’d nearly convinced herself that she could see vague shadows in the darkness. Whether they were real or figments of her imagination, being able to focus on something made her feel better.

  Then her fingers touched something. She gasped. “There’s something here,” she whispered to Harte.

  “Keep going, slowly,” he whispered back. “What does it feel like?”

  “Paper?” she said, but that wasn’t quite right. It was too hard. “No. Plastic?” she guessed.

  She started to take another step, but Harte laid a hand on her shoulder from behind.

  “Wait,” he said, stopping.

  “What is it?”

  “Shh.”

  She held her breath, but didn’t hear anything. “You heard them, didn’t you?” she whispered.