by Diana Miller
At least he wasn’t thinking about last night’s ill-advised declaration of love. When you were dealing with betrayal by your long-time best friend, an admission like that by a short-term-lover, even one you didn’t want to hurt, barely caused a blip in your psyche.
Paul grabbed his jeans off the chair.
“Where are you going?” Jillian risked a question as he dressed.
“To call Jack.” He slipped on a black T-shirt.
“There might be another explanation.”
“Not one that fits as well. And believe me, I’ve spent hours trying to come up with anything that would justify not reporting my suspicions.”
He finished dressing in silence. “Can you make coffee? This won’t take long.”
* * * *
Paul was back in fifteen minutes and headed directly for the coffeepot. In the combined halogen and sunlight of the kitchen, his face seemed even more drawn than when he’d left, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced.
He stood beside the counter, cradling his cup, staring into the steaming liquid. “Jack was very interested in what I had to say. Apparently he wasn’t as sanguine about Ryan’s disappearance as he pretended to be.” His voice was unnaturally expressionless, the same tone frequently adopted by family members struggling to keep their composure after Jillian informed them of a loved one’s death.
“The bureau checked into Vince Taurino’s murder. The medical examiner who handled it died in a car crash more than three years ago. The only other person who got near the body was an FBI agent from D.C., in town on another case. He was coincidentally at a police station a few blocks away when he overheard the call about Taurino. He beat the cops to the scene and claimed jurisdiction because of Taurino’s federal indictment. He kept everyone except the medical examiner at bay and helped the medical examiner haul the body away. The agent’s report positively identified the victim as Vince Taurino and confirmed the medical examiner’s finding that he was dead.”
Paul set his cup on the counter and finally looked at Jillian. “Guess who the agent was? Jack pretended Justice was delaying sending him the files, but when he found out why I’d called, he decided he might as well tell me. It was Ryan.”
Speechless, Jillian went behind Paul and wrapped her arms around him.
He stood stiffly in her embrace. “They’re moving us. We’ll be gone before the fence was set to shut down tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave here, but now with Ryan…” He swallowed hard. “We’re going this afternoon.”
Jillian’s stomach clenched. “Are they separating us?”
He moved out of her arms and turned to face her. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Thank you.” Since Jack, no doubt, had wanted to do just that.
He kissed her hair. “Let’s go swimming.”
“Swimming?”
“It should be safe since no one tried to enter the compound this morning.” He grimaced. “Of course, I thought we were safe in Keystone, and look what happened. But I need a swim. If you don’t want to risk it, I’ll understand.”
No matter what the risk, Jillian wasn’t letting him go alone. “I’ll change into my suit.”
* * * *
Paul and Jillian made their way to the spectacular beach she and Ryan had enjoyed only a few days before. The ocean sparkled, calm and deserted except for an occasional swooping bird and the emerald silhouettes of a couple neighboring islands. Paul removed a pair of binoculars from his bag and scanned the horizon, then took out a blanket and spread it on the sand.
He stripped off his T-shirt and shoes. “Do you want to come swimming with me?” He’d shaved before they’d left the house, and without the dark stubble, his face looked pinched and pale in the bright sunlight.
Jillian stretched out on the blanket. “I’m too lazy to do anything that strenuous, especially if you’re serious about going hiking later.” He’d told her to bring her clothes along, obviously wanting to avoid the house and office. “I’ll enjoy the sun while you exercise.”
Paul pulled a revolver from his bag and set it on the blanket, beside the binoculars. “This is the one you used for target practice. I brought it to be safe, but I wouldn’t leave you if I thought you’d need it.”
“I know.” She moved the gun to within easy reach. She wasn’t sure she could aim at a live target, let alone shoot anyone. But the lessons Paul had insisted she continue had desensitized her enough that she could touch it without flinching.
Paul raced across the sand and into the surf then dove in. He paddled out about a hundred yards then swam back and forth between two rocks that jutted from beneath the turquoise water. Another form of pacing, no doubt—one that made him an easy target.
Jillian reached for the gun.
* * * *
Almost an hour passed before Paul made his way to shore, providing any sniper an even easier target than when he’d been swimming. Jillian raised the gun she’d kept hold of during his swim, her finger now on the trigger, until Paul collapsed beside her on the blanket. He leaned over his bent knees, puffing, his red face a definite improvement over his earlier harsh pallor.
When he straightened, his face was barely flushed, and his breathing sounded as if he’d finished an easy jog. “Nothing like giving your opponents an easy target. That was really stupid of me.”
“At least now we’re sure no one’s here,” Jillian said.
“I assume so.” Despite his words, Paul pulled out his gun. “I wish we’d been able to go sailing, but I didn’t dare take out the boat.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder then brushed her hair with his lips. “When this is over, we’ll rent a boat somewhere and spend a couple weeks on the water.”
“I thought you’d be anxious to get back to work,” Jillian said.
He wove his fingers through her loose hair. “Not until we’ve gone sailing. Unless you don’t want to go.”
“I’d love to. If I have any vacation time left after this.”
“Your bosses certainly shouldn’t count this as vacation time,” Paul said. “If they do, I’ll take care of it, offer to pay the other doctors double if they’ll cover for you and maybe make a contribution to the hospital.”
“You are not buying me time off.”
Paul gripped her shoulders and pushed her back onto the blanket then leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “I wouldn’t be doing it for you. I’d be doing it for me.” He lowered his lips to hers in a deep kiss that stole her breath. “So figure out a way to handle it, because when this is over, I’m taking you sailing off the coast of Italy.” He sat up and reached for his bag. “Do you want a water?”
They could argue the money part when this was over, assuming he even remembered his proposition. Jillian took the bottle he offered her.
After gulping down nearly half his water, Paul picked up the binoculars and surveyed the empty ocean.
He froze.
“What is it?”
“I thought I saw the light reflect off something, to the left of that island. I can’t see it now, though. It must have been a mirage.” He continued looking through the binoculars.
Jillian could barely make out the outline of the island, and the surrounding water looked peaceful and empty.
“Damn. I was right. A boat’s out there and it’s heading our way.” Paul handed her the binoculars. “I can’t believe they’d risk coming now.”
Jillian looked through the binoculars. “Maybe it’s whoever’s moving us?”
Paul grabbed his cell phone. “They’d never come this close without warning us. It’s possible it’s someone innocent, but we’d better assume it isn’t.” He took the binoculars from Jillian and looked through them as he spoke into the phone. “A couple miles out, I’d say. Uh-huh.”
He set down the phone and binoculars. “Get dressed.”
His eyes never left the horizon as he changed from his wet swim trunks into jeans and a T-shirt. Jillian dressed as quickly as
possible, a task complicated by hands shaking like a detox patient’s.
Then she heard it. A dull whirr overhead.
Paul grabbed his phone just as it buzzed.
“I see it. We’re heading to the house.”
“What’s happening?” Jillian felt chilly despite the morning’s warmth. The whirr was louder.
“There’s a plane up there, presumably to create a diversion while the boat comes ashore.”
“A diversion?” Jillian started folding the blanket.
“Like dropping a bomb.” Paul stuck Jillian’s gun in the bag, then zipped it shut and slipped the strap over his left shoulder. He held his gun in his right hand. “Leave everything else.” He grabbed Jillian’s arm and pulled her toward the trees. Once there, Paul separated the trees to expose a rough path. “Follow me.”
Jillian stumbled repeatedly over plants, roots, and rocks as she struggled to keep up with Paul’s half-jog. “Why do they have to come ashore? Won’t the bomb destroy the house and office?”
“Bombs can miss. The plane won’t dare get too close since they don’t know what we’ve got to shoot back at them.”
“Do we have anything?”
He gave her a grim smile over his shoulder. “Harry’s specialty. This way.”
“Isn’t the house the other direction?”
“We’re heading to a cave. You can’t tell it’s there unless you know about it.”
“Does Ryan?” Jillian puffed out as they speed-walked uphill through thick vegetation.
“Yeah, but I only showed him once, so I’m hoping he’s forgotten how to get in. Even if he hasn’t, by the time he arrives we’ll be—”
A deafening blast obscured Paul’s words. The ground rumbled, and Jillian tripped mid-stride. She plunged forward and rammed her shoulder and cheek against the trunk of a palm tree. Paul grabbed her and held her upright.
“Are you all right?” he asked when the roar had subsided.
Jillian’s shoulder throbbed and her cheek stung, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Fine.”
“That guy’s either good or lucky. He barely missed the compound.”
“How do you know that?”
“From the sound and smell. It didn’t hit any buildings, just trees.”
She couldn’t smell anything. All of Paul’s senses must be exceptionally well developed.
“Got him.” Paul was looking skyward. “Harry hasn’t lost his touch.”
A ball of fire plummeted toward the open ocean.
“Let’s go.” Paul resumed walking.
Jillian trailed behind him. “Shouldn’t we go back to the house to help them?”
“Since their job is protecting us, we’ll help most by keeping ourselves safe.”
“Won’t they worry when we don’t go back to the house?” She was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. She had a feeling that was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Despite Paul’s apparent confidence, she was terrified.
“Harry knows damn well I’d never have said I was heading there if I actually planned on it. Not with someone close enough to intercept our call. Hold this.” Paul handed her his gun then stepped up to a collection of luxuriant ferns. He separated them to reveal a boulder that he shoved a couple feet to the left, exposing an opening barely large enough for a person. “You’ll have to slide through on your stomach. Once you get inside, you’ll have enough room to crawl.”
Jillian returned Paul’s gun, got down on her stomach, and slithered through the opening. The rocks scraped her aching shoulder. A few feet inside she rose onto her hands and knees, but had to duck her head to keep the ceiling from brushing her hair.
“It gets bigger soon,” Paul said from behind her.
Everything went dark.
Jillian froze, paralyzed by panic and claustrophobia. “Paul?”
“Right here.” He touched her leg. “I put the rock back. Keep moving.”
The tunnel seemed even smaller and creepier in the complete darkness. Jillian forced herself to keep crawling, to ignore the gravel prickling her knees, the dust and dampness choking her breath, the pain in her shoulder.
Finally, she made out the sides of the tunnel. “It’s lighter.”
“You’re almost to the cave.”
Paul’s words motivated her to move faster. Several more crawls and she was in a cave at least twenty feet in diameter and ten feet high, lit by several slivers of sunlight shining through cracks overhead. She scrambled to her feet and brushed gravel from her knees and palms, breathing in the much fresher air.
“Sit down.” Paul pointed at several flat-topped rocks piled along one wall. “Those are supposed to be chairs. I set them up when I was a kid.”
Jillian chose a rock. “What do we do now?”
“We’ll wait here until someone calls to let us know it’s safe to come out.” Paul sat on the rock to her right and draped his arm around her shoulders. He held his gun in his other hand. “How’s your shoulder? It wasn’t your wounded one, was it?”
So he had noticed she’d bashed it. “The other one, and it barely aches.” The pain had faded, and Jillian was actually relaxed. Nothing seemed real, as if she were a spectator watching this scene, not an active participant. She leaned her head against the solid wall of the cave and closed her eyes. She should force her brain and body back into full alert, but she couldn’t quite yet. For the moment, she wanted to drift and enjoy feeling safe.
“Fancy running into you two here.” Ryan.stepped into the cave, his gun aimed at Paul.
Chapter 25
“What a surprise.” Paul jumped to his feet and pulled Jillian up with him. His gun was aimed at Ryan.
Ryan shrugged. “That’s me. Full of surprises.”
“Jillian, get your gun.”
“She doesn’t need a gun,” Ryan said.
“Get it, Jillian.”
Jillian knelt beside the bag and opened it with shaking fingers, the rasp of the zipper in the ominous silence raising goose bumps. She pulled her revolver out of the inside pocket then returned to Paul’s side.
“Now aim it at him.” Paul’s arm circled her shoulders, warming her chilled body.
Jillian followed Paul’s instructions. She was pointing at a paper target, not a person she’d considered a friend. She had to keep telling herself that.
“What the hell’s going on? I thought you were kidding like I was.” Ryan raised his empty hand.
“Stop moving!”
Ryan’s hand froze in mid-air. He glanced at Jillian. “Has he been acting strange all day?”
Jillian snuggled closer to Paul.
“Drop your gun.” Paul flicked his own for emphasis.
“And let you shoot me? I swear I’m trying to help you.”
“Why did you lie?” Paul asked.
“About what?”
“What didn’t you lie about? For starters, the bureau didn’t send you on a new assignment. Jack assumed you were still here.”
Ryan leaned against the cave wall and gestured absently with his revolver. “Martin didn’t want to tell anyone who didn’t absolutely need to know. Which limited it to Martin and me.”
“Martin would never be involved with slime like you.”
“If you’d let me explain—”
“No. Drop the gun.”
Ryan shifted his attention to Jillian. “Can you please convince Paul to let me explain? When he learns the truth, he’ll feel like shit if he’s already killed me.”
Ryan might be on their side. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Clutching her gun so tightly she half-expected the handle to crush like an empty soda can, Jillian looked from Ryan to Paul then back at Ryan. She felt as if she were watching one of those spy movies where people stand pointing guns and firing lies at each other, stalling until reinforcements, or at least an exploding pen, can rescue the hero. Unfortunately, reinforcements wouldn’t have a clue how to get into this cave, and James
Bond probably had a monopoly on exploding pens.
She had to risk it. “Please let him talk.”
“Why?” Paul’s attention was on Ryan.
“Because I’m afraid otherwise you’ll shoot each other, and I’ll be stuck dealing with whoever’s in the boat. If Ryan really is a good guy, I’d like to avoid that.”
“He may be delaying to give his friends time to show up,” Paul said. “Did you tell them about this cave?”
“I assume you’re talking about Taurino and company, and I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” Ryan said. “We have at least fifteen minutes before they land. I focused on them once I knew you’d spotted the boat, and I could stop covering you.” He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell were you doing swimming? It was damn risky.”
“Why didn’t you shoot me then?” Paul asked. “Because Taurino would have been pissed to miss the kill?”
“Because I’m on your side,” Ryan said. “For God’s sake, will you let me explain?”
Jillian squeezed the hand Paul had resting on her shoulder. “It’s two against one. It won’t hurt to listen.” Her gun felt heavy. She moved her left arm underneath her shooting arm for support.
Paul studied Ryan for a moment then flicked his gun. “Talk.”
“When you were shot at on the ski slopes, Martin got worried. So he called the one person he knew he could trust implicitly. Me.” Ryan glanced at Jillian. “Unlike some people, Martin knows I’d never betray Paul.”
“Keep talking.”
Ryan snorted. “You sound like an extra in a low-budget movie.” A stream of sunlight illuminated him like an actor in the spotlight. “Martin asked me to go to Colorado. He told me to convince Jack to request me for your case, pretending it was my idea. But Jack was such an ass I had to go to Martin.”
“What were you supposed to do in Colorado that my guards couldn’t do?” Paul asked.
“Make sure you weren’t trusting anyone you shouldn’t.”