by Webb, Debra
Frustration scrunched across his forehead. “Are you always this argumentative?”
“Only when confronted with irrational stubbornness.”
“Stay behind me.”
There was nothing like winning. “Whatever you say.”
He shot her another of those looks. Damn, the guy was seriously good looking. Even after sleeping on a filthy floor and going without a shower.
Maybe it was getting that bump on the head that had her obsessing on his good looks. Or the kick in the ribs that was as sore as hell this morning.
The underbrush was thick here. She stayed close on his heels. He knew the way, she didn’t. The sun trickled through the leaves, showering interesting shapes of light on the tree trunks and foliage.
When they were on the road again, she hoped to get him talking. Since Ian hadn’t been able to fill her in, she needed everything she could get from Benson. Running wasn’t the answer to his problems. Maybe he’d buy himself some more time by disappearing again. But for long-term quality of life, the truth had to come out—the past faced and conquered.
She’d gained enough of his trust for him to arm her, but would it be enough to get him talking?
He held up a hand. She stopped. She couldn’t see beyond his broad shoulders, but nothing around her looked familiar. But then, it had been dark last night when she’d parked. And trees, well, they were trees. These looked just like the others they’d passed on the road and had run through last night.
Lowering to a crouch, he waited for her to do the same. Once she hovered next to him, he gestured to his right. “I’m going around and up, closer to the road to move toward your car. You stay here, behind cover. Once I’m in the car and moving, head back. You’re close enough to hear the engine start.”
“The police could be nearby,” she reminded him. “They’re looking for you. I can verify that you didn’t kill Patsy. Are you certain—” she searched his eyes “—that you don’t want to go that route? Whatever happened in the past, if you’re innocent, the police will have to be involved at some point.”
“Once you hear the engine start, move fast,” he said, totally ignoring her warning. “It won’t take me long to get back to where we left the clunker.”
She watched him go. Damn, she needed her phone. It would be enormously helpful if she had the information Ian had learned. She had no bargaining chips with this guy. No leverage whatsoever. All she could do was continue to attempt to gain his full trust. And wait for an opportunity to contact Ian again.
Not an optimum scenario.
Jane turned off the thoughts and focused on listening. Benson was no longer in sight. He expected her to be able to hear the car’s engine start; to do that she had to focus.
What she didn’t want to hear was gunfire…or sirens.
Or silence.
The seconds ticked off into minutes.
Still nothing.
Tension stiffed her muscles, urging her to check out the situation.
He wouldn’t like it.
She could always turn around if she heard the engine start.
Moving slowly, noiselessly, she edged forward. Followed the same route he’d taken. When she got within sight of the gravel road that led past his house, she caught a glimpse of yellow crime scene tape flapping in the wind at the end of his driveway. If there were any cops around, they had pulled down the drive closer to the house. Which would make driving away less complicated.
Still no engine sound.
Not good.
She had backed into the overgrown drive. The trees and junglelike shrubbery had shielded her car from the road. Being seen on approach wasn’t a concern…unless someone was lying in wait.
Reaching the edge of the clearing around the burned-out house, she leaned to the left to see past the orphaned chimney.
Damn.
Benson had his hands in the air. A man, wearing dark clothing as the shooters last night had, stood behind Benson, his weapon jammed into his spine.
As Jane watched, Benson dropped to his knees and laced his hands behind his head.
She couldn’t be sure if the guy in black had already called his friends, or if he’d been left here alone and was to bring Benson to a rendezvous point if he showed up.
Jane clasped her weapon in both hands and started a cautious move toward the two men. The guy with the gun was preparing to secure Benson’s hands. Looked like nylon cuffs. He slipped a cuff over Benson’s right hand, twisted his arm down so that his hand was at the small of his back, then did the same with the other. Looped the final cuff and pulled tight.
At least now she knew this wasn’t a dead-or-alive situation. Whoever had sent these men wanted Benson alive. Could have fooled her last night.
The guy in black kicked Benson in the side.
Bastard.
It was easy to be tough when one’s opponent was restrained. The butt of the gun slammed into Benson’s left jaw area. He toppled over.
Fury roared inside Jane. This guy was going to pay.
Jerk.
While he was busy hauling Benson back to his feet, Jane moved in.
She jammed the muzzle of her weapon into the base of his skull. “Drop your weapon.”
He froze.
“Drop your weapon now.”
Jane braced for a reaction. Drew her right hand back, level with her shoulder.
He wasn’t going to cooperate.
The thought had no more formed in her brain than he whirled toward her.
But she was ready for him.
She rammed the heel of her right hand into his nose.
He grabbed for his face.
She kicked him in the crotch with all her might.
He hit the ground.
“Now.” She pressed the barrel of her weapon to his temple as he lay curled in a shuddering ball. “Let go of that weapon.” Despite the painful attack, he’d kept a grip on that damned gun.
His fingers relaxed. She snatched the gun from his hand.
“You okay?” she asked Benson.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t look okay. His lip was bleeding and his left eye was already swelling.
While she patted down her prisoner with one hand, she kept the muzzle boring into his temple with the other. Maybe he had some more of those…
“That’s what I’m looking for.” She tugged a second pair of nylon cuffs from his pocket. “Facedown. Hands on the back of your head.”
When he’d complied, she secured his hands the same way he had Benson’s.
“Where’re the others?” she demanded, ramming the muzzle even harder into his skull.
He snarled a particularly ugly curse at her.
“Answer the question,” she repeated.
“He’s not going to tell you anything.” Benson had staggered over. “Let’s just get out of here.”
She stared up at him. “You want to leave him?”
“His friends will come back for him.”
“We could take him with us,” she offered.
Benson shook his head. “He’ll be more trouble than he’s worth.”
“Guess this is your lucky day,” she said to the guy. She pushed to her feet and started to turn away. Should have, but the ache in her side wouldn’t let her. She kicked the hell out of him. He coughed. Gagged.
“Wait.”
She turned to Benson.
“He’s got the keys.” He nodded toward the man on the ground. “In his left pocket.”
Jane reached across him, tugged the keys from his pocket. He had a cell phone, too. She took that as well, turned it off and removed the battery before shoving it into her own pocket.
As soon as they were out of here, this guy would take off down the road. Some unsuspecting motorist might pick him up and end up dead.
Maybe she’d lessen the likelihood of him being picked up. She tugged off his boots. Then rolled him over and unfastened his trousers.
“What’re you doing?” Benson demanded, his voi
ce gruff with pain and impatience.
“Get in the car. I’ll be right there.”
She tugged the guy’s trousers down his muscled legs and pulled them off his feet. “Good luck,” she said as she stood. She tossed the pants aside. He’d never get them on with his hands secured behind his back.
Benson waited in the car for her.
She dropped behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. “You want me to find something to cut you loose?”
“Just drive. We can do that later.”
The swollen eye looked painful.
Ice would be good. She’d have to stop at a drive-through.
She nosed out onto the road, surveying both directions. Rolling slowly, she eased out onto the road in the direction of the main drag that led into Plano proper. Holding her breath and praying they wouldn’t meet any other cars, particularly any official ones.
At the stop sign where Grissom Spring Road and the county road intersected, she asked, “Which way?”
“Left.”
That surprised her but she did as he said.
“We’re not going back to Plano. We’re heading to Chicago.”
Maybe he’d finally decided to give the Colby Agency a chance. “You won’t be sorry if you give my agency a shot at resolving—”
“I need a new ID. There’s a guy in Chicago I can go to.”
Since there was a possibility that the guy they’d left in the woods had put a tracking device on the car, Jane needed to pull over as soon as it was safe and give it a once-over.
And get Benson some ice, and cut him loose.
Her purse. She hadn’t even thought of that. Glancing behind the console into the rear floorboard, she confirmed that it was there.
It was a miracle.
But the guys after them weren’t petty thieves. They were here for Benson.
Since the guy back there in the woods had been preparing Benson for transport, it was safe to say he had a command performance with whomever he’d had trouble with four years ago.
He’d said he didn’t trust the FBI. Evidently they had crossed him somehow.
A gas station and convenience store coming up on the right would work. She pulled in, parking on the side of the store. “I’ll get you some ice.”
He nodded once.
She grabbed her purse, tried to remember if she had any sort of over-the-counter pain reliever.
As soon as she stepped inside and smelled the coffee, she knew she had to have some. Coffee and something to fuel up on. She gathered drinks, snacks, two cups of ice, wipes, a pair of scissors and a tube of antibiotic ointment.
When she’d paid, she walked back to the car and cut Benson loose. With his hands free he immediately reached for a cup of the coffee.
“I have to check out something.” She put her coffee in the console’s cup holder and tossed the rest of the stuff she’d purchased into the backseat.
This would take a couple of minutes, but she knew the drill, knew what to look for.
Starting beneath the hood, she went over the car, methodically and carefully. This was far too important to blow it by rushing.
When she scooted out from under the car, Benson was crouched at the hood waiting for her. “What’re you doing?”
“Making sure they didn’t add a tracking device.”
He made a face. “Now, there’s something I hadn’t thought about.”
She got to her feet, swiped her palms together. “I think we’re clean.” She pointed to the stuff in the backseat. “There are some wipes back there and some ointment and ice if you want to clean up your face and try to slow that swelling.”
He set his coffee on the roof of the car and climbed into the backseat.
“Be right back,” she told him. “Bathroom.”
Back inside the store, she walked straight to the back and locked herself in the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Damn.” She had herself a pretty good shiner. Not really any swelling, mainly bruising. She relieved herself, washed her face and hands and tried to detangle her hair. She should have grabbed the brush from her purse.
Usually she didn’t really care. Especially at a time like this….
“Dumb, Jane,” she said to her reflection.
Benson wasn’t the slightest bit interested in her as a woman. He just wanted out of here.
That was when it hit her. She’d left him in the car.
With the keys.
Chapter Eleven
Troy stared at the keys in the ignition.
He could drive away.
It would be better if he did.
Having Jane along would only risk her life again and again or get her killed.
Like Patsy.
When he’d confessed that he’d rescued the woman and kid, Patsy had asked about a reward. He knew the reason. His excuse for not pursuing a relationship had been money. He’d insisted that a woman—a family—deserved more than he could give. And that was true. But Patsy hadn’t understood what he meant. She hadn’t known his secrets. She had assumed he meant because he worked at the diner for a pittance.
She’d wanted to help him. So they could be together. And that desire had gotten her killed.
Another murder on his conscience.
Something else he would have to live with.
If his pathetic existence could be called living.
He should have been honest with Patsy and told her that he liked her for a friend, but nothing more. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her…it seemed easier to give another kind of excuse.
Don’t think about it right now…just drive away.
He stared at the keys again.
It was the right thing to do.
Jane had saved his ass back there.
He doubted he would have gotten this far without her. Leaving her stranded like this was no way to repay her.
Troy closed his eyes.
This was a mistake.
Another in a long line of big, bad choices.
Like trusting his uncle.
The driver’s-side door opened and the decision was made.
Jane dropped behind the steering wheel. The look she sent in his direction told him she’d expected him to be gone when she got back out here.
“You didn’t drive away.” She started the engine.
“I thought about it.”
When she’d pulled around the building and onto the road, she exhaled a big breath. “You did the right thing.”
He didn’t bother telling her that it had all boiled down to timing. If she’d been another four or five seconds, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
A few miles of silence elapsed. He spent most of that time watching her. She had herself a pretty good shiner, too. Her movements told him her ribs were sore. That made two of them. His lip was busted but good. And the swelling around his eye was going to be around a day or two. Maybe if he’d used the ice she’d gone to the trouble of getting…
Didn’t matter.
As soon as he had an ID, he was getting a flight to D.C. It was time this ended. On his terms.
But to do that he needed money.
Damn it.
He’d forgotten the money.
“We have to go back.”
She glanced at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head, grimaced at the pain that shot through his skull. “I have to get something from my mailbox.”
“If anyone sees you—”
“That’s where you come in.”
She didn’t argue, just slowed, then turned around.
He gave her directions for taking a roundabout way into town. One that took them closer to the Mail-Boxes-For-You where he got his mail. Which was mostly current box-holder stuff. But it served his purposes.
“Pull in the side lot,” he instructed.
When she’d parked he dug the box key from his pocket. “Just get everything in the box.”
She accepted the key, didn’t ask any questions. T
his time she took the car keys with her.
Smart girl.
Three minutes later she returned with a stack of envelopes.
She shoved it at him as she climbed behind the wheel. “Are we ready to go now?”
“Head back to Chicago. I’ll tell you where specifically to go when we’re closer.”
They could get a room outside Chicago. Then he could decide what to do with Jane.
He checked through the junk mail for the envelopes that contained his backup plan. Five envelopes addressed to him, each containing twenty-five hundred dollars. One also contained a key to a safe-deposit box at a Chicago bank. Once he’d started getting enough junk mail to keep the envelopes covered, he’d placed them in the mailbox. He checked the box from time to time, removing a few things, but careful to keep those five envelopes covered with a few other pieces of mail. He could access this box 24/7. And there was no record of what he had in there. The safe-deposit box held another twenty thousand dollars. Enough to facilitate a new start whenever necessary.
Part of him wanted to do just that. To never look back. Damn. When had he gotten so indecisive?
His gaze settled on Jane’s profile once more. He’d passed up a couple of opportunities now to separate himself from her. He hoped he didn’t live to regret the hesitation.
JANE DROVE. She didn’t pursue additional attempts to persuade him to go to the Colby Agency with her. Let him think about all that had happened. How she’d helped him. And maybe he would decide to work with her.
Clearly those men weren’t going to give up until they had accomplished their mission.
Her thoughts wandered to her mother. She had known Jane would be on assignment for a couple of days. But if she didn’t get a call from her daughter soon, she would start to worry. With her heart condition, worry was the last thing she needed. When they got a room, Jane was making that call.
And one to Ian.
She’d turned off and removed the battery of the cell phone she’d taken from the guy back in the woods. With technology evolving every hour of every day, she wasn’t going to risk the enemy using it as a tracking device.
She glanced at her passenger. “Was leaving your family behind difficult?” She kept her gaze on the road. The question was out of the blue, but they’d been silent long enough. She had to restart her fishing expedition at some point.