Thrill Ride

by Julie Ann Walker

  “But he was an innocent man,” Vanessa whispered, obviously no longer able to hold her tongue. But her hand? God love the woman, she still had it pressed against the small of his back. A tiny, warm touch of assurance despite everything she was learning about him and the truth of his second job.

  “It was the only way,” Donna Ward explained.

  Dunn lunged, and had Steady not been standing directly behind the man, Rock had no doubt the guy would’ve gone for Donna Ward’s throat. As it was, Steady managed to hook both hands around Dunn’s shoulders, wrestling him back toward the bathroom’s door with Dunn yelling hoarsely, “You turned me into a murderer. A murderer!”

  “That’s enough,” Rock said, reaching into his tuxedo jacket to click off the recorder he’d stored there. “We have everything we need.”

  “What the hell are we going to do with her?” Ozzie asked. “We can’t let her go and then confront her boss like we’d planned. The crazy bitch doesn’t have a boss.”

  “I’m not crazy,” Donna Ward insisted, the wild look in her eyes proving her words false. “I’m not—”

  Boss slapped a hand over her mouth again.

  “We take her with us and turn her over to General Fuller,” Steady announced, and Rock disliked that option with every fiber of his being, but he knew it was the only one that was viable, proven by Steady’s next words. “We don’t know who her accomplice in the CIA is. We don’t know what she’s capable of doing if we release her. Not to mention the fact she’d probably go to ground like wounded rabbit. No. We have to take her.”

  Rock knew Steady was right, and now Donna Ward was struggling in Boss’s grasp again, her eyes rolling around like pinballs.

  “What about the local authorities?” Eve asked quietly, and Rock would be forever grateful to her for getting them into the fundraiser. This mission would’ve been far more difficult, their ability to maneuver through the hotel nearly impossible, if not for the security badges now clipped to their clothing. “Couldn’t you just hand her over to them along with that tape you made?”

  Boss answered for Rock. “The local authorities wouldn’t know how to make hide nor hair of all this. Plus, it started with a treasonous idea within the CIA, and those folks are known for covering their tracks. So, since we don’t know who her accomplice is, and unless we want Rock and Dunn to find themselves food for the fishes at the bottom of Lake Michigan, it’s better we take this all the way to the top.” He turned to Rock, “I’ll call General Fuller and tell him you’re coming.”

  Rock nodded, a hard knot of regret vying for space in his chest beside the hard knot of remorse.

  “Hallway’s clear out to the alley exit,” Ghost announced from his position by the bathroom door. “If we’re doin’ this thing, the time is now.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Rock glanced at the crowd gathered in the chopper shop, looking so incongruent in their fancy eveningwear against all the heavy machinery, and he felt like he’d just come back from one of those ball-busting, seventy-two-hour insertions into the mountains of the Hindu Kush. The ones he’d done back when he’d been with the SEALs and one of his many suck-ass jobs requiring him to scour caves and bunkers looking for Taliban insurgents.

  He was body-weary from too much adrenaline coursing through his system and mind-weary because Donna Ward’s interrogation was the most disturbing of his life. You know, considering her revelations meant everything he’d always thought of himself, the man he was and the jobs he’d done, were all a big stinking pile of hogwash.

  Or, maybe he could look at the bright side, in that her interrogation was very likely the last interrogation he’d ever have to do. Because for the last five years, he’d unknowingly been involved in illegal, non-government sanctioned activities, and he was going to have to pay for that. One way or another…

  “You have everything you need?” Boss asked, his face lined with concern.

  “Oui,” Rock nodded, looking over at Dunn who was sitting on the metal steps leading to the second floor. He and Rock were the only ones who’d changed out of their fancy duds. The reason being their plan was for Dunn to drive Donna Ward back to DC in his Explorer while Rock rode behind on Patriot, and tuxedos weren’t necessarily conducive to either task. “You sure you’re okay with these arrangements, man?” he asked Dunn. “‘Cause I could always ride with you instead—”

  “No way.” Dunn shook his head. “I’ve got some phone calls to make, some arrangements to take care of. And this way you’ll get in one last ride.”

  Rock nodded again, thanking the man with his eyes. He respected the shit out of the guy for doing this, for turning himself in. Because the consequences Dunn stood to face were far more severe than the consequences Rock stood to face. Dunn had been the one to do the actual killing after all…

  “You sure that’s a wise move?” Boss interrupted. “The Feds are going to be scouring the entire country soon, looking for Dr. Ward. We could always have Fuller fly here.”

  Rock shook his head. “Dunn’s windows are tinted, and everyone not only thinks I’m dead, but graveyard dead, so it’s not like there’s an APB out on me or anything. I’d really like to take this last ride, Boss. There’s no tellin’—”

  “Wait a minute,” Vanessa interrupted, her dark eyes wide. “What are you talking about when you say one last ride? Surely you don’t think you’ll be held responsible for any of this. You were duped.” She swung around to Dunn. “You both were.”

  “Doesn’t matter what we thought,” Dunn said, not looking at Vanessa, but staring straight at Rock. His eyes shone with bone-deep sadness, and Rock ached for the guy. For what Donna Ward had turned him into. Rock’s heart was an anchor in the center of his chest. “Ignorance isn’t an excuse,” Dunn finished. And wasn’t that the truth? They should have asked more questions. But shoulda, woulda, coulda, it was all a done deal now.

  “Boss…” he turned, and the torment on his old friend’s face wrecked him. He wished like hell he didn’t have to put the man through this and, more than that, he wished he hadn’t put this black spot on the reputation of Black Knights Inc. But there was no going back to erase the past. So the most he could hope to accomplish was to do the right thing for BKI’s future. “I’d like you to give us about eleven hours to make the drive. And then I’d like you to call Fuller. Tell him to meet me at the old spot down by the Potomac.” The little, rural shack by the river where he and Boss had first run the idea for Black Knights Inc. by the general. “Can you do that?”

  “You know I can,” Boss said, a hard muscle ticking in his jaw. “But I wish there was another way.”

  “There’s not. You know there’s not, mon frere.”

  Boss jerked his chin, once, the big guy’s eyes overly bright. And, mon dieu, Rock was having a hard enough time keeping his shit together as it was. Seeing Boss losing it, even a little, was a steel-fisted blow straight to the gut.

  “Wait!” Vanessa yelled, panic in her voice, her eyes frantic. “Wait! What are you guys saying? Are you saying you’re going to prison for this? No!” She adamantly shook her head. “No! It’s not right! It’s not fair!”

  Ah, chere, there’s my proud, dauntless lioness…

  “Surely you know by now, mon ange,” he murmured holding her gaze, “there’s nothing fair in this ol’ life.” He was so goddamned sorry…about everything.

  “Rock,” she ran to him, the anguish on her pretty face breaking his fucking heart. “Richard,” she pleaded once she reached him, laying a beseeching hand on his arm, and that just made it all so much worse. “You don’t have to do this. They think you’re dead. You could just stay dead,” she was panting, her voice unusually high. And it was obvious she’d forgotten they had an audience. The Knights were looking on with various expressions of discomfort and heartache, but Rock didn’t care. His only thought was to soothe the woman standing in front of him. “You could get a new name. Move to a different country. I’ll come with you.” Oh, sweet Jesus, she was killing h
im. “I’ll change my name, too. There’s nothing to keep me here. No parents. My aunt died last year. We can—”

  “Stop it, chere,” he grabbed her upper arms, giving her a gentle shake. And it only managed to cause the tears that’d been standing in her eyes to spill over and slide down her soft cheeks. “This has to be done.”

  “No,” she shook her head, her shiny, black hair brushing her shoulders. “No it doesn’t. You could just run. Run away, Rock—”

  “That’s not the honorable thing to do.”

  “Screw honor!” she wailed, now crying in earnest. “What about life? We could have a life together. You and I. I love you, Rock!” She threw her arms around his neck and—oh, dieu—suddenly she wasn’t the only one crying. One mutinous tear slipped from his right eye, slid down his cheek and landed in her hair where her head was tucked up under his chin. She loved him. It was what he’d been afraid of and maybe secretly yearning for all along…

  Dunn pushed up from the stairs and strolled toward his vehicle parked just inside the shop—Donna Ward was already tied up in the backseat—and the Knights began to move toward the stairs, trying to be inconspicuous about quitting the scene in order to give him and Vanessa some privacy. But Rock caught Boss’s eye, subtly shaking his head and making his intent clear.

  Stay, mon ami. I need your help.

  Boss nodded and hung back by the stairs as the rest of the Knights disappeared onto the second-floor landing.

  Rock gave himself a moment…just one moment to hold Vanessa close, to drink in the minty-sweet smell of her, to press her warmth and lushness and, yes, love against his heart. Then he did what he had to do. For himself, for his sanity, but mostly for her wonderful, brave, far-too-open-and-giving heart. He couldn’t do this knowing she’d mourn for him, for his loss, the way he’d mourned for Lacy. He had to make sure if she had any pain at all, it was as quick and as insignificant as he could make it.

  So, grabbing her shoulders, he softly pushed her away. Her face was a mess: red, blotchy, covered in tears, and so goddamned beautiful it nearly brought him to his knees. “You know what I told you out in the jungle,” he said, making sure his tone was kind but also hard and immovable. “That hasn’t changed.”

  “Don’t say that,” she shook her head, sniffling. “You don’t mean it. Not after last night. Not after we—”

  “I do mean it,” he insisted quietly but firmly. Still, her next words told him she wasn’t really listening.

  “They won’t be able to put you away for very long,” she said, wiping a shaky hand over her wet cheeks. “You didn’t do the killing. You just did the interrogating. So, what can they charge you with? False imprisonment? Surely you’ll be out in a few years, and I’ll be here waiting on you. I’ll be here—”

  “Vanessa,” he gave her another little shake, the air in his lungs on fire. Because even if he had changed his mind, even if he had done something colossally stupid and allowed himself to fall for her, there was nothing to be done for it now. She couldn’t spend her life waiting on him. She had to go on living. She wanted a family, a husband and children. And there was no way he could give her those things. Not now. So he gave her what he could…

  He gave her her freedom.

  “I don’t love you,” he said, lowering his chin and holding her watery gaze, knowing his own was probably just as watery. “I don’t love you, you hear me? So there’s no use in you waitin’ on me. You need to move on. Find someone else.”

  But even contemplating the thought cut him to the bone.

  “No,” she shook her head, hiccupping, her voice rising in a wail. “I don’t believe you! You’re lying!”

  He looked over at Boss. The man’s face was the picture of sorrow, but he nodded and jogged over to them, gently taking Vanessa from his arms. It took everything Rock had to let her go.

  “No!” she screamed. “Don’t do this, Rock!”

  And he had to get out of there before he did something completely stupid, before he did something completely undignified and unethical and took her up on her offer to just run away. Fred Billingsworth’s true murderer needed to be brought to justice, and he and Dunn were the only men who could do it.

  “No, Rock!” Vanessa wailed, but he couldn’t stay a second longer or he didn’t know if he’d be able to make himself leave at all.

  Jogging over to Patriot, he grabbed his leather jacket from where it lay over the seat. The back patch read Black Knights Incorporated: May the Road Never End…A hard lump formed in his throat. Today was going to be his last day as a Knight. And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow he highly suspected his road was going to end…at least for a good, long while.

  Shrugging into the jacket, he threw a leg over the bike and unhooked his helmet from the handlebar. Unfortunately, shoving the helmet over his head did nothing to drown out Vanessa’s cries. And each tearful wail, each begging plea not to go, was a razor-sharp arrow to his heart.

  This was slaying him. She was slaying him.

  Pushing the button on the hydraulics, Patriot lifted to riding height, but before he started the engine, he glanced over at Boss. “It’s been an honor, mon ami,” he said, placing his hand over his thundering heart.

  Boss dipped his chin, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “The honor has been mine, my friend.”

  Rock nodded and tried to ignore the fact that the foundation of his life was cracking and crumbling beneath him. Then he let his gaze linger on Vanessa, fighting like a tigress, struggling in the big man’s grip to no avail.

  “Chere,” he said, and she stopped squirming, looking up at him with puffy, pleading eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Live your life. Live a good life. And know that I’ll always cherish the time we had.”

  And before she could answer, he turned away, cranking over Patriot’s big engine while simultaneously pushing the button on the handlebars that activated the huge garage door. It rolled up. It’s loud whir barely discernible over Patriot’s throaty grumble.

  Without a backward glance—he couldn’t bear to see everything he was leaving behind—he followed Dunn’s SUV and motored out of the shop, away from the past he’d grown to love, and off to put himself into the hands of some of the very people who’d tried to kill him.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Three weeks later…

  “You’ve got to come see this,” Becky said, hanging onto the doorframe of Vanessa’s bedroom, alarm in her tone and in her face.

  “What is it?” Vanessa asked, in the process of making her bed. Every day was the same, she got up, she made her bed, she went to work, and she pretended her heart wasn’t shattered into a thousand tiny, bloody pieces. And every day the Knights tiptoed around her, handling her with kid gloves, pretending one of their own wasn’t the reason her heart was shattered into a thousand tiny, bloody pieces.

  “Donna Ward and her CIA partner were both found dead in a hotel room this morning,” Becky said. “The victims of gunshot wounds to the head.”

  “Jesus.” Vanessa skirted the bed to follow Becky down the hall toward the media room. “Not that I’m all that upset by their passing or anything. Donna Ward was a horror show, and I can only imagine her partner was, too. But still…Jesus.”

  “It gets worse,” Becky said as they walked into the media room where all the Knights were gathered around the wide-screen television—it was set to the morning news. For two weeks they’d been kept in the dark about Rock’s situation, General Fuller remaining frustratingly mum on the subject despite Boss’s dozens of phone calls demanding answers. Then, last Friday, Fuller finally called to say Rock and Dunn were being released, and Donna Ward was undergoing psychological evaluation pending release while her accomplice at the CIA was stripped of all titles and security clearances.

  “It’s been decided by the powers that be,” Boss had informed the group, and he’d been talking about the powers that be, “that it would be too damaging to the reputation of the intelligence community to hold trials, thereby dragging into the ligh
t the origins of The Project and the CIA’s initial involvement in said scheme.”

  “And Billingsworth?” Ozzie had asked.

  “A casualty of the system,” was Boss’s terse reply. “His murder is officially listed as unsolved.”

  Which Vanessa felt was a grave injustice, but she’d worked for the government too long to really be surprised.

  Rock’s name had been cleared of any wrongdoing, his record once again lily white. Dunn had been instructed to return to his job at the FBI as if nothing had happened. And Donna Ward? Well, Vanessa had hoped like hell that psychological evaluation proved her unfit to reenter society whereby she’d be confined to a psych ward for life.

  Only, according to the news report, at some point she must’ve been released.

  “…late last night. And it appears Dr. Dunn and former CIA agent, Dennis Wheeler, were both shot in the back of the skull at close range before their assailant, an as yet unidentified man, turned the gun on himself,” the pretty blond-haired news reporter was saying. “Local police suspect—”

  Vanessa’s heart sunk. “Unidentified man? Who is she talking about?”

  Though Rock had been released, he hadn’t returned home. Instead, he’d called Boss to say he planned to return to Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana, claiming he needed some time to clear his head. But Vanessa suspected he’d gone back to visit his parents’ and Lacy’s graves. After all that’d happened, all the twists and turns his life had taken due to the events surrounding their deaths, she figured he was seeking some perspective.

  But could he have decided Donna Ward and the CIA agent needed to be—

  No. Rock isn’t the killing kind, she assured herself. And he’s certainly not the kind to turn his weapon on himself.

  Then a lightbulb blinked on over her head, and she answered her own question. “It’s Dunn, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Boss nodded. He was standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, legs splayed, and he didn’t look away from the television screen when he added, “I figure it’s Dunn.”