by Alicia Scott
“Hah! Finnley’s brought me the papers. Most of them have drawn and quartered me by now. I think they all need a hobby.”
“They have one. You.”
Josie scowled. “How long till we get there?”
“Five minutes.”
“More press on that end?”
“Of course.”
“Vultures. Pure vultures.”
The radio crackled to life. Since Jack was driving, Stone picked it up. The dispatcher informed them that there had just been a traffic accident on Main. They would want to take a detour around the outside of town to avoid being caught in the snarl.
Jack nodded and took the right.
“You could stop and assist with the accident,” Josie said hopefully from the back. “It’s not like I’m in a hurry.”
“Transporting prisoners takes precedence,” Jack informed her.
“Prisoner,” she muttered. “Prisoner. I’m a prisoner. Well, why not? Honey and sweetheart are so overused.”
Jack’s hands tightened on the wheel. He could feel Stone’s gaze on his cheek but didn’t turn. Instead, his eyes went to the rearview mirror, where Josie stared at him with a gaze angry enough to burn down the city.
“I looked into your allegations,” he said firmly. “I listened to you that much. Now the matter’s out of my hands.”
“I have no motive, doubting Thomas. No motive, no motive, no motive.”
Jack gave up and stared at the road. Grand Springs was to their left now, a grassy embankment on their right. The road would loop them around the town where they could approach the courthouse from the other side. It would add five minutes to their trip, but that was nothing compared to the time and safety risk a traffic jam posed.
Behind them, a dark sedan approached, otherwise they were alone. Keeping his gaze on the new arrival, Jack slowed for the traffic light. The car slowed as well, breaking behind them with the usual amount of distance. He relaxed a fraction and waited for the light to turn green.
It wasn’t until he drove through the light that the sedan sped up. It pulled out as if to pass them, and Jack immediately stepped on the brakes, giving the car every chance to rocket by them. Beside him, Stone was tense, his hand on his holster.
The sedan kept even. Jack hit his brakes, so did the other car.
“Damn,” Stone said tightly. He drew out his gun and the dark tinted window slowly rolled down.
There was no time to think. No time to react. No time to feel. Dimly, Jack recognized glowing blond hair. Then abruptly, he caught the strong, overpowering scent: gardenias.
“No!” Josie screamed.
“Down!” Stone yelled.
What’s the woman doing with a straw? Jack thought, then felt a sharp prick and reflexively slapped his neck.
Poison dart, he thought as he blacked out at the wheel.
The car swerved hard. In the back seat, Josie tumbled to the side. She thought Stone would have a chance to grab the wheel, but it was already too late. The car plowed down the embankment, tossing them through the air. She heard a sickening thud, then a loud crash. Scents of gas and pine penetrated the car.
The car stopped moving but her head wasn’t doing so well. She shook it twice before the world came into order.
She was flopped across the back seat. In front, Stone was sprawled over the dashboard, unmoving, and she could see blood trickling down his forehead.
“Stone? Stone?” He didn’t respond and her voice rose an octave. Her gaze latched onto Jack. He was slumped over the steering wheel, also unmoving.
“Jack? Jack, can you hear me? Please, Jack?”
He didn’t move. She banged on the bulletproof glass dividing her from the front seat with both hands.
“Dammit, Jack. I take back every evil comment I’ve ever made. Now, wake up, okay? Please, please, please, tell me you’re all right.”
Jack remained slumped forward. And then she saw the tiny dart sticking out of the side of his neck.
A poison dart. A poison dart! The hysteria bubbled up in her throat. Of course, a poison dart. Why not a poison dart? If you’re a young, modern woman who suddenly discovers yourself framed for murder, why shouldn’t the arresting officer be hit by a poison dart?
Holy mother of God, what had happened to her life! And why? Why, why, why?
“Come on, Stryker. Wake up now. Pull the dart out of your neck and tell me I’m on ‘Punk’d.’ I won’t even hit you for it if you’ll just tell me right now.”
Tell me you’re all right. I need you to be all right.
And then she realized that the dark sedan hadn’t driven away. It was perched on the edge of the road, and even from here, she could see glimpses of blond hair as the driver climbed out.
“Dammit. Think, Josie. And think now!”
She struggled with the back door; of course, it didn’t open. Back doors of police cruisers should never yield for prisoners. She banged against the bulletproof glass separating her from the front seat. It didn’t even buckle. She was trapped as neatly as a bug in a specimen jar and Jack and Stone were still unmoving.
And then the blonde came fully into focus. She was tall. She was beautiful. She was dressed entirely in a black leotard with a heavy-looking utility belt, as if she’d used Catwoman as a model.
She wasn’t carrying a whip, however.
This woman started descending the hillside with one very large gun.
Chapter Nine
Josie gave up on fumbling with the back door handle. She kicked out with her feet, hitting the door with as much force as she could muster. The left side didn’t budge. Powered by adrenaline and pure desperation, she attacked the right side. It must have already been jarred open by the crash because it burst open immediately. She tumbled out into the grass, glancing over her shoulder.
The blonde was approaching steadily. Her big black gun was already poised.
Josie searched frantically for an escape. If she plunged forward, the ravine eventually opened into a full hillside covered with trees. Perhaps the tall fields of grass would offer her protection.
And Jack and Stone? They were still slumped over in the front seat, unconscious and vulnerable.
The blonde could walk right up to them and end it with two quick pulls of the trigger, just the way it was done in the movies. That quick. That simple.
“Think, Josie, think. Brilliance would be good right about now.”
Unfortunately, her brain was taking a momentary vacation to avoid such pleasantries as fear, pain and imminent death.
She settled for moving. She raced around the back of the car and opened Jack’s door in one smooth swoop, ducking behind the door for cover. The approaching woman looked right at her, her expression cool and remote. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t pause. She just kept descending, slow and steady.
And Josie understood that the woman also knew her targets were immobile—she knew she had plenty of time.
Josie yanked the dart out of Jack’s neck, gripped his shoulders, and shook him hard.
“Come on, Jack. Wake up for me.”
Jack moaned, his eyes still closed. The blonde appeared just twenty feet away. Now she stopped. Now she leveled her strange, long-barreled gun.
Josie’s brain finally fired to life. She grabbed for Jack’s revolver.
“No, dammit,” he groaned. His fingers wrapped reflexively around her wrist, trying to protect his gun. They wrestled for the weapon like children while the neighborhood assassin took aim.
“I’m trying to save your miserable hide!” Josie muttered through gritted teeth. “Now, give it here!”
His fingers abruptly loosened. She pulled the gun out of the holster triumphantly, already fumbling with the safety thing and thinking that the gun was much too big and much too loud and she was going to get them all killed.
The handcuff slapped around her left wrist abruptly. The following click brought her gaze to Jack’s right wrist, where he’d just joined them in unholy matrimony. Even as she watched, he tossed t
he key out into the deep grass.
“Kill me and you’re trapped,” he murmured thickly. His blue eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed, still held a determined gleam.
“You stupid fool—oh, my God!”
A whistling sound emitted. Josie ducked and something whizzed by her ear. She stared up an inch to see a needle sticking out of the rubber molding around the window. The woman had opened fire with a tranquilizer gun. And Josie was willing to bet those needles contained something a little more potent than the one she’d pulled out of Jack’s neck. Perhaps one hundred percent pure potassium or something even worse.
She turned, shut her eyes and opened fire. Then she remembered she was supposed to look at her target, so she opened her eyes and squeezed back the trigger a few more times. The woman dove for cover in the thick grass. Jack groaned and winced as if she’d hit him. Maybe in his drugged world she had.
Josie didn’t waste time. She had absolutely no experience with guns, but the damn thing seemed big enough and it made a lot of noise. She fired into the grass twice more and was rewarded by the black shape slithering to the side. She fired a third time and a cloud of dirt plumed up.
“Get out of here,” Josie cried out at the top of her lungs. “Get back into your car or I’ll blow your brains out.”
The blonde didn’t move, however. After a moment, Josie realized that she couldn’t. Heading up the hillside would expose her immediately to gunfire, so she had no choice but to lie low and use the grass for cover. Josie had actually pinned her in.
She’d trapped them all.
She caught a glimmer of blond movement and fired. The woman bobbed back down. Josie sat there, her hand beginning to shake. How many bullets did she have? She had no idea. And what would she do once she ran out?
Jack was slumped back against the seat, his eyes open, and he was shaking his head as if trying to ward off a bad dream. Stone finally groaned, beginning to come around.
Josie made her decision. She slapped Jack hard.
“Wake up, Stryker. Time to make the doughnuts. One, two, three!”
She yanked on her handcuffed wrist as hard as possible, tumbling both of them into the grass. The blond woman bobbed up immediately and Josie scrambled to open fire.
“No,” Jack cried hoarsely.
“Yes!” Josie cried back vehemently. “Now run, dammit, run!”
She staggered to her feet, her butt in the air, and dragged him forward. He protested, but when the blonde reappeared and Josie fired again, he suddenly rocketed forward as if she were shooting at him. Whatever worked.
Behind them she heard a whistle and dropped immediately. Ahead of her, a bush shuddered as the dart hit.
“Jack, move!”
She lunged forward, dragging him the best she could. They’d made it only three feet when she heard another whistle and yanked them down. Jack fell better than he walked. His skin had taken on a horrible pallor. Sweat burst out of his pores.
And another dart whistled by.
They were going to die, Josie thought. They were really going to die. Jack was poisoned and hurt. She was chained and inexperienced. Stan Reynolds’s street-smart daughter had finally met her match. She didn’t even understand what was going on, or who would try to do this to her.
The grass to her right rippled. She caught a glimpse of blond hair and fired.
Jack moaned and muttered on the ground. His body jerked convulsively.
Josie took his hand, wincing at the clammy, cold feel of his skin.
“It’ll be all right,” she murmured desperately. “It’ll be all right, Stryker. I’ll take care of you.”
I won’t let you die.
The grass rippled. She raised her gun and fired.
And the trigger pulled back with an empty click.
Empty. Empty!
The blonde rose up smoothly. There was no expression on her face. She did not look triumphant or gleeful. In that instant of time, Josie met her gaze and knew she’d never met this woman. They were not enemies, they were not old acquaintances.
The woman would kill her, but it was nothing personal.
The woman leveled her strange gun smoothly. She aimed it at Josie’s heart.
And gunfire rocketed the air. Josie flinched, but the blond woman spun around, taking aim behind her and firing as she fell into the grass. Josie saw Stone with his gun, then abruptly he was diving for cover, as well.
She didn’t wait. She tugged Jack’s hand and whispered with all her heart, “Run, Jack Stryker. And do it now!”
He lurched up drunkenly and they staggered forward.
* * *
Josie didn’t have a plan. She pulled Jack the best she could into the thick cover of forest, the empty gun tucked in her waistband because maybe Jack would have extra ammunition on him, and, most likely, they would need the gun again.
She was a city girl at heart. She didn’t know about tracking, but she was pretty sure a two-year-old could follow their trail at this point. She’d once read that you should drag tree branches after you to cover footprints. Somehow, that seemed to be an odd thing to do when Catwoman could appear anytime with her poisoned darts.
Josie resorted to speed. She dragged Jack down the brush-covered hillside with branches and brambles tearing at her cheeks. Thrashing to the bottom, they came to a road. On the other side, the true forest began. Josie raced right toward it.
Jack made it across, then tripped over a small rock and fell hard, taking her with him. The air left her with a rush. She staggered up, anyway, then her legs gave out and she crumpled back down. Her chest was on fire. Sweat mixed with mud and thorns and blood on her cheeks. Her hands burned from a hundred small cuts.
But she was too terrified to stop. The blonde would come. The blonde would kill them.
Josie had seen it in her eyes.
“Come on, Jack,” she whispered hoarsely. “Come on.”
He didn’t moan, he didn’t speak. His face had gone from pallor to flush, and a lean, haggard look hollowed out his cheeks. His body was trembling, his hand clutched his knee.
She was stunned by shadows deepening around his eyes. He looked like a man on a death march.
“Jack?” She couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.
His lips moved. They were parched and cracked, and it took a moment for the word to escape.
He said, “Move.”
She did.
She didn’t know how long they ran this time. It seemed like forever, but given their condition, she doubted it was that long. Her arm and shoulder ached from pulling Jack along. Her cheeks and hands stung from all the scrapes. Her muscles were liquefying.
Jack stumbled a lot. They would stagger up and keep going. But each time, it took them longer and longer to get to their feet. The sixth time, Josie just couldn’t do it. She rolled toward him, lying on her back and struggling for big, deep gulps of air. Beside her, Jack’s shoulders trembled horribly.
“Can you sit up?” she asked at last.
“M-m-maybe.” It took him three attempts to finally flop against a tree trunk. He looked exhausted.
“De…hydrated,” he whispered.
“Oh.” Of course, the man had sweat bullets, then run through half the state. He probably required a gallon or two. Her eyes filled up.
“I don’t have water,” she said soggily. “I…I don’t have anything.”
“Stream.”
“Where? Just tell me where, I’ll get you water.”
“Can’t. Handcuffs.” He raised his cuffed hand wearily. Now she was sure she was going to cry. The tension and fear were catching up with her and she was just a little bit hysterical.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Jack,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier. “We have to move again. Do you know how to find the stream?”
He nodded slowly.
“All right. I’ll stand first, then help you up. We can take it slower, but we have to get there.” She glanced over her shoulder. So far, there
was no sign of pursuit. Maybe Stone had shot the blond woman.
Or maybe she’d shot Stone.
She focused on Jack, not wanting to contemplate the rest. “Ready?”
His hand formed a weak thumbs-up. She climbed to her feet. It took them two tries to get Jack up, but once standing he could walk. She put her shoulder beneath his, helping him the best she could and trying to hold back the worst of the tree branches before they lost the last of their skin.
They plunged deeper into the woods. The trees choked out the sunlight. The air took on the rich, musty scent of drying leaves that never saw the light of day. The temperature dropped, and Josie began to shake as much as Jack.
She didn’t know where they were. The towering trees thwarted her sense of direction. Scurrying noises and small scuffles made her wonder what kind of companions the forest would bring. She followed Jack gamely, willing him not to pass out, because if he did, they would both succumb to dehydration and exposure, chained together like escaped felons. When Josie had been a little girl, she’d dreamed of meeting a big handsome man just like her father, and loving him the way her mother loved Stan. Somehow, in all those girlish fantasies, she’d never gotten around to dying handcuffed to a stubborn cop on a lonely mountainside.
It made her want to laugh hysterically or maybe weep. It was hard to decide.
They walked grimly, Jack’s fingers woven into hers, and Josie held on tight.
Eventually, she heard a new sound. Water gurgling over stones. Jack took them straight to the side of the stream.
They both stared at the clear, flowing water. So beautiful, so cold, so beguiling. Neither of them moved.
“Pollution,” Josie whispered. “Runoff from the old mines and farming. Do you think it’s safe?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve read that hikers often do themselves in by drinking contaminated water.”
“I know.”
“Jack…I’m scared.”
His fingers tightened around hers. He lifted his other hand tiredly and smoothed back her brambled hair. His gaze searched hers, no promises, no lies. Handcuffed together on the mountainside, running from someone they didn’t even know, they’d finally found common ground. “I’m scared, too,” he whispered hoarsely.