by Jeanne Adams
Agent Parlier touched Dana's hand, trying to loosen her grip to give Tervain some air. At Shadow's deepening growl, Parlier desisted. Talking fast, he attempted to justify their actions. "We were supposed to have several more days at least, possibly even weeks. Instead, the agent was barely able to let us know the time had been altered to tonight."
His voice was reasonable, calm. But as he continued, she detected a note of concern, as if she might not release Tervain. "Mrs. Markham, please. Our agent either couldn't tell us or didn't know Walker had the helicopter. They got here far faster than we had any reason to believe they would. Had we known, even an hour earlier, we'd have had you out of here, and put decoys in your place."
"Decoys?" Dana knew her eyes must be blazing because both agents recoiled. "Decoys? That wouldn't have been worth shit," she snarled. "He'll come at me until I'm dead and Xavier is his. If you had a man on the inside, why the hell didn't you kill Donovan and end this, once and for all?"
Rubbing his throat, Tervain answered. "It doesn't work that way, Mrs. Markham. You know that."
Parlier forestalled her nasty comment. "He's right. We have to follow procedure and the law, even when we don't care for it."
"We're committed to taking him down, Mrs. Markham. We've discussed this. You know how much we want him. It's a priority. Perhaps I should have emphasized that more."
Puzzlement was fast matching her anger. She knew Donovan was a priority. Why was Tervain reiterating it, emphasizing it yet again, when they'd talked just last week? He seemed to be trying to distract her from pursuing her questions, but why?
"It's even more of a priority now, Mrs. Markham. They also hit the decoy house, the one we had created and put in place to distract them from you. Two agents, one woman and one who was to play your son."
"And?" There was a reason he'd told her this, but she couldn't fathom it at the moment.
"All dead."
Her heartbeat faltered, her chest clenched in pain and she dropped her head, fighting tears. More dead at Donovan's hand because he couldn't, wouldn't let her go. Her freedom, her life was worse to him than anything, since it was she who had betrayed him. That betrayal had set her free in one sense, and doomed her in another. He would never let her go, let her live, while he too was alive.
"Mrs. Markham, we have to know," Parlier interjected, urgency in every line of his body. "Did you see our agent? Did you have contact with anyone? Our inside man should have been with this team."
As she lifted her head, Tervain met Dana's stare, nodded, unseen by Parlier. As further encouragement, he added, "Everyone on the ground is confirmed dead. They've put out the fire, by the way. There's one dead by the alarm box and one in the main part of the yard. Your booby traps, I presume?"
When she nodded, Parlier jumped in. "The police are already talking about a ground search. I need to know what you know before I give them the go-ahead."
Whatever was going on here, it would wait. She needed to get the agent some help. And she needed to get Tervain alone.
She would grieve the agents who'd given their lives for her, and for Xavy, later.
"Let them search, they won't find him. He's in my panic room in the basement." When their faces lit with relief, she continued. "He's hurt, but I didn't have time to work on him. He didn't want the EMTs or police to see him."
The tension seemed to drain out of Parlier and Tervain smiled. "Excellent. We have to get him out, but we need to get the cops and firefighters out of the house before we do."
A variety of comments jumped to mind, none of them complimentary. She remained angry that they'd kept her in the dark about Donovan. Then again, the mental voice of reason chimed in, she had known anyway, so what was the big deal? "I'll let him out as soon as you clear the house."
"No need for you to go—"
Cutting him off, Dana spoke. "Yes, actually there is."
"If you'd let us—"
"No, sir, I won't. We've been in protective custody twice before. I'm sure you're going to want to put us there again. As nice as your staff can be, and the US Marshals as well, a secure location isn't home. This time, I'm not leaving my house without some of our things. You clear my taking stuff from the crime scene with the cops. While you do, Agent Tervain and I can go to the house, get your man."
Beyond Parlier's line of sight, Tervain grinned. When his compatriot turned, his expression revealed neutral patience.
"You heard the lady, Tervain," Parlier snapped. "Don't walk. Get the car and drive. I'll get the locals out of the way. Load up and get them to a hotel. If Agent Bradley can walk, send him over the fence at the rear of the property, pick him up on the road, if not, the car."
"Yes, sir," Tervain's reply was clipped, virtually military. He trotted off and, within a minute, he returned with the car. He offered Dana his hand and a boyish grin. "If you and your protector will hop in, we'll get this show on the road."
Putting aside her frustration, Dana accepted his help and the ride.
When they drove up in front of the house, Parlier got out and headed right for the fire captain. Before she got to the front door, the firefighters and officers were walking away from the house. Parlier was making good on his word.
Glancing around, she winced for her poor flower beds. With the equipment and water, they were beyond saving. Xavier and Agent Booth met them in the foyer. Xavier carried a pair of Dana's sneakers, socks, and a fully laden backpack.
"Mom," her son's voice held both concern and relief. She hugged him as he hurried over. She sat down momentarily to put on the socks and shoes, leaving them unlaced to accommodate the bandage on her foot.
"Xavy, I see you've gotten a couple of things. We've got clearance to take what we need with us this time, if you want to get anything else from your room." She saw his relieved grin, and he plopped his pack on the floor and sped up the stairs. Agent Booth, caught off guard, hurried after him.
"He's learned to move fast," Tervain commented.
"We both have, as you well know."
Tervain nodded and said, "Let's get going."
So he wasn't ready to clue her in. Exasperating, but predictable. Changing the subject, Dana spoke briskly. "I'm going to put a few things in a bag here in the laundry room." She pointed to a room off the kitchen. "After that, I'll see if there's anything left of my room and my clothes."
"But we need to get you out of here, and Agent Bradley—"
"Can wait for ten more minutes. I know you want us out of here fast. I'm also aware that you don't really want to wait for me and Xavy to pack anything."
The sheepish look on Tervain's face told her she'd guessed right. Limping away from him, she grabbed another backpack from its hook on the laundry room wall. She did her best to ignore the smoke that smudged the cheery walls she'd painted herself. The gentle smell of detergent and fabric softener was overpowered by the acrid stench of burning insulation. Even through the walls, she heard the atonal hiss and buzz of emergency radios.
Putting the filled pack next to Xavier's, she followed him upstairs. The breakers had flipped, and the lights were off, but the white glare of the fire department's emergency lights lit the room. It was a picture of destruction.
A lump rose in her throat at the wanton devastation. Forcing herself not to cry, she got to work. The closet doors were relatively unscathed. Flicking them open, she grabbed her "run-bag." It was already packed with money, sundries, and several changes of clothes for both Xavier and herself. Setting it out, she pulled another duffel down and loaded clothes, her cosmetic kit, and jewelry into it.
Picking her way across the fractured wood and avoiding tufts of mattress that littered the floor, she reached under the bed to retrieve a locked metal box.
"The boy and Agent Booth are packing some favorite books. They'll go right to the car when they're done," Tervain said.
"That's good." Dana slipped past him to peer into Xavier's room. "Honey, don't take everything. Get what you need for right now and for a few days. We
'll come home again."
At his hurried assent, she headed for the foyer. Ter-vain did the same.
"Do you think it's wise to tell him you'll be back?"
"Agent, we may be going with you into custody for now, but you can't keep us. I'm going to file my insurance claims and have my house rebuilt. If he's going to keep coming for me until you catch him or kill him, I sure as hell am going to pick the battleground. I think tonight's an example that on my turf, with my rules, I stand a lot better chance of surviving."
Framed in the basement door, she faced him, and anger welled within her once more. "So far, my precautions have kept my boy and me alive. Your people haven't done squat. So, yes, I'll tell Xavier that, because it's true."
Tervain remained silent as they made their way downstairs. Concealing her actions with her body, Dana unlocked the door. Hand poised on the knob, she knocked in a sequence of twos and threes saying, "Everyone's high in Salem tonight."
From inside came the sound of a lock being drawn. She twisted the knob and dragged it open. A light burned in the room, so he'd gotten the mini-generator working. Agent Bradley stood propped on the wall by the door, his gun drawn.
"Hello again, Mrs. Markham. Oh, and I guess I need to say that 'Nineteen people sure can swing.'" He provided the counterphrase with a grimace of distaste. "Who the hell came up with these passwords, the Marquis de Sade?"
Chapter Three
"Before de Sade's time," Dana quipped, ignoring the gun. Going into the room, she pulled her Swiss Army knife off the shelf and tucked it into her pocket.
"I guess you got my message." Caine's wry comment was directed at Tervain.
"Not fast enough for this, dammit."
"Parker and Soli?"
"Taken out in the first round. There wasn't a whisper at the decoy house before they hit. We've got a leak. Or a plant inside."
"I figured that, when we flew here instead of the decoy house." Caine tucked the gun away and hopped to the door, ready to head out. "Soli covered my ass in Afghanistan. She was a good agent."
Dana's heart twisted at the thought of the dead agents, but she ruthlessly shoved her horror away. She knew from painful experience that once she'd been found, she needed to change locations. Quickly. In spite of her bravado about coming back, she wanted to leave. Soon. So it was her turn to remind everyone to hustle.
"They were good agents, and they wouldn't thank us for standing around, letting Donovan have more time to get at us."
"Right." Tervain snapped to the matter at hand. "Caine, how fast can you travel?"
With a pained expression, Caine shook his head. "Not fast. My head's stopped ringing, but I've got a gash in my thigh. It's not bad, but it needs a stitch, maybe two. If there's a choice, I'd rather not run on it."
Tervain turned to Dana. "Let's get him to the car."
She nodded, juggling the options with lightning speed. "If you've got a leak, you don't want Booth or Sears in on this. You get Xavier and our bags loaded and send Booth down the hill to Parlier. I'm strong enough to get your agent to the car. Turn off the porch lights. He's tall, but with the dark clothes, he shouldn't be visible."
They both looked at her, consternation written on their faces. "How do you know so much about this?"
"Are you kidding?" Her laugh was sharp as a razor as she pushed past them and motioned them out of the room. "You know who I was, regrettably, married to. How do you think I'm still alive after six years of running from that bastard?" She shut down the lights and generator, locked the door, and slipped the concealing panel into place. "Okay Tervain, what's the plan? Are you sending Booth away?"
"She's right," Caine said, pushing off the wall to loop an arm over Dana's proffered shoulder. "The fewer who know, the fewer who tell."
"Agreed. I'll tap the horn when we're set." Tervain was already heading to the stairs as he spoke.
"We'd better get started." Game's voice was as deep and silky as the night. "The trip up the stairs may be slow going."
"I know. We'll lean on each other since my foot isn't in great shape either."
"Your foot?"
"I cut it when I came to find you on the patio," she explained as they hobbled to the base of the stairs.
"Ouch, that's a bad bargain."
"We're both a bad bargain, Agent Caine."
"Bradley. My name's Caine Bradley." It came out on an "oomph" as they limped from one riser to the next.
Partially supporting him, Dana was glad for the sturdy railing. The man was heavy. She grunted again, bracing as he realigned his weight to turn on the landing. A glance at his profile revealed a crooked nose over generous lips and dark skin, stained with soot. A long, thin scar scored a line down the side of his face. Injured and covered in smoke residue, he still exuded menace, as if he were one of the bad guys. This certainly wasn't her picture of someone working on the side of the right.
Then again, her libido recognized a hunk when it was pressed up against one. Her pulse was doing a jig. Rolling her eyes at her irreverent hormones, she struggled to the top of the stairs with Caine.
Within minutes, they were secreted in the dark sedan and speeding away into the night. Dana's emotions took a depressing swing as she sat slumped in the front seat. Despair rolled over her in waves. Would she and Xavier ever be safe, would they ever be free?
Running one hand through her damp hair, Dana desperately tried to relax. Her other arm, wrapped around her sleeping boy, was beginning to tingle from lack of circulation. They'd been at the rural motel for an hour, and it was now a couple of hours before dawn. She'd managed a quick shower while Tervain stood guard and the physician they'd called in had treated Caine.
As Parlier returned the doctor to wherever they'd found him, Dana, Caine, and Tervain discussed options. All the choices were unpleasant, and they finally agreed to sleep on the various ideas. With the insouciance of youth, Xavier had slung one arm over Shadow, snuggled into the curve of Dana's arm, and promptly fallen asleep.
Alone in the dark, reaction hit her hard. Fighting down her shudders, she soaked the pillow with silent tears. Her body ached from the exertions of the night and from holding herself rigid to suppress the wracking sobs which struggled for release. All the "might have beens" ran through her head, haunting her with specters of Xavier's death and the annihilation of all she held dear.
The loss of the decoy agents was equally painful. Their faces, drawn by her imagination, flashed before her mind's eye, reproaching her for living, for surviving. She wanted to rail at them that she might be alive, but she was still in bondage. No option they'd discussed would allow her to be free, to ensure that Xavier would be free. Nothing was guaranteed but a continued life on the run.
Exhausted by her horrid visions, she tried to focus on the next direction. The agents had argued about what to do. They wanted her to go underground again. The difficulty was, as Caine pointed out, she'd been as deep undercover as they could make her, and it hadn't protected her. They'd admitted that her wits and foresight had saved her, as well as Caine, but had no solutions for how to make it foolproof.
Xavier grunted in his sleep, snuggling closer. As he turned, his head rolled off her arm. The rush of returning blood flow distracted her, but only for a moment.
Caine was the one who'd broached the scariest plan. The thought of the confrontation he proposed made her blood run cold in her very bones. Rather than think about it, she considered the man. Obviously, he'd been undercover for more than the three months since Tervain had contacted her and set the decoy house. He'd been sent to watch Donovan, but her ex had been a step ahead. She wondered how it must feel to lead the kind of double existence he did, acting the villain to catch a monster.
In spite of his job, he seemed to have a sense of humor, a boyish streak, she decided, remembering his joking in the basement room. Dark humor perhaps, but humor. She smiled at the memory of his hug and the "thanks for not shooting me" line.
It had been a good, strong hug. Her mind wandered t
oward Caine's hard body, his dark eyes.
Ruthlessly, she shut down that mental journey. She had no business thinking about him, or anyone, that way.
Instead, she forced herself to redirect, to think about their next gambit. Knowing her ex's temper, Donovan's fury at the near-miss would be lethal and drive him even harder to get his son. Her first impulse was to take Xavy and run. Just as quickly, she discarded the idea. She needed the FBI. She couldn't find a place to hide, manage Xavier, and keep track of Donovan all at the same time.
Could she trust the agents to put Xavier first? No. They wanted Donovan badly enough that they'd risk her son if they had to. Could she do it on her own? No.
The impasse kept sleep at bay.
Caine's idea wasn't any worse than living with one ear cocked for stealth helicopters or ever awaiting a knife from behind. She examined his proposal. If she took his suggestion, Xavier would be protected while she deliberately served herself as bait on a platter. But would Xavier be safe? Who would Xavier turn to if it all went wrong and Donovan got to her, killed her?
A noise from the next room cut short her pondering, and Shadow emitted a low growl. She sat up. In an instant, Caine was beside her. He gripped her arm and gave a quick squeeze before shielding them with his body.
"Stay still." The words were a mere whisper of sound. She silenced the dog as Caine crouched, his bulk a darker shadow in the black of the room.
"Caine," a voice whispered, as the door opened then closed again. "Caine?"
"Tervain?"
"Get them out of here. Parlier should have checked in two hours ago. I can't raise him. It might be nothing, but my gut says something's wrong. With this situation, we can't take any chances. Go for the mountain house. I have your cell and Dana's. Stay there till you hear from me."
"And if we don't?" The question was terse, and Dana felt the tension radiating from the man next to her.
"Go under, as a family. There are papers in the lock-box at the house, they'll work for you both. Take the Escalade. No lights and move fast. If the worst happens, contact Hopkins, and pray he's not the leak." There was a metal clink and the door shut.