Finding Kate Huntley

by Ragan, Theresa

  “Go to hell.”

  She made a tsking noise and took hold of his good arm. “I guess I’ll have to break this one, too.”

  “He was set up,” Sheldon sputtered.

  “By who?” Kate squeezed harder.

  “They call him Lou. That’s all I know.”

  A loud crash sounded from the top floor of the hotel. The ear-splitting sound of shattering glass followed.

  Kate jumped to her feet, snatched Sheldon’s gun from the floor, and headed upstairs. Loud thumps and bangs brought her to the second door on the right. She twisted the knob, but it was locked.

  Another crash sounded. Kate stepped back and threw her weight into the door. Shit, that hurt! She yanked the pistol from her hip pocket and fired two shots into the lock. The door swung open. She stepped inside, weapon drawn, eyes wide.

  Jack stood by the open window, his face made up of hard lines and suppressed fury as he held onto a pair of ankles, dangling the Haitian man with the ponytail out the window.

  Jack’s chest rose and fell with each breath. “What took you so long?”

  She ignored him and took quick inventory of the broken chair, tilted bed, and jagged pieces of glass scattered across the wood floor. “Nice.”

  “Yeah, I thought the place could use a little redecorating.”

  She smiled.

  The thug hanging out the window grunted, his curses muffled by the crowds shouting to him from two stories below.

  “So,” Kate said, “what’s the plan?”

  Jack lifted a handsome brow. “It was the kiss, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That was a lie. Even now, their lives in danger, she wanted him to forget everything else, take her in his arms and kiss her again, long and deep, hard and soft all at once.

  “I knew you’d miss me,” he said. “I just didn’t know how much.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I followed you because I’ve decided it’s time I went back to the States. I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

  “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

  She shrugged.

  Grimacing, Coffey struggled to hold on to the guy’s legs. “I talked to Harrison,” he managed, changing the subject. “He’s arranging for a private plane to pick us up.” Sweat trickled down the sides of Jack’s face. “Let me take care of Charlie here, and then we’ll go.”

  “Here, let me help,” Kate said. She moved to his side and took hold of the man’s legs. “I’ve got him.”

  As soon as Jack loosened his hold, she let go. Charlie dropped two stories to the ground. Somebody screamed. A loud crash followed.

  “Okay,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Time to go.”

  Jack looked out the window. “I wanted to question the guy.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Too late.”

  Jack exhaled loud enough to express his exasperation with her. He grabbed a vinyl backpack from the floor and began to stuff his belongings inside. “You really are something, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Coffey glanced at his watch. “We have thirty-two minutes to get to a runway a few miles short of the Port-au-Prince airport.”

  “We’ll never get there in time without a car.”

  “Then we’ll have to find a car.”

  As Coffey packed, Kate noticed that he’d managed to change into a clean pair of jeans and boots before he was interrupted by the man he referred to as Charlie. Kate pointed to his boots, her brows slanting. “Are those alligator?”

  He looked down his nose at her. “I didn’t kill the thing.”

  “You may as well have.”

  “See,” he said. “You do have a soft spot after all.”

  She ignored that and instead watched him shuffle through a chest of drawers. “Your nose looks broken,” she said. “You look like crap.”

  “Thanks.” He winced as he slid the tie-dyed shirt up and off wide shoulders, giving her a good view of hard, well-defined abs. Not usually big on creative imaginings, Kate was surprised to find herself wondering what he’d look like stripped naked. The rookie did something to her insides, making her nervous system zap and zing, throwing everything out of whack. She wasn’t the type to get thrown off balance by a man. Then again, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d met any man worth a second glance.

  He pulled a clean white T-shirt over his head and when he saw her watching him, he winked, of all things. The man was full of himself in a big way. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

  “We are.” He shoved a sleek compact case into his backpack before tying the drawstrings closed. “Let’s go.”

  Kate followed him out the door and down the stairs. Ben Sheldon was gone. Outside, the bright cutting beat of maracas and wood claves added rhythmic chaos to the fans of heavy wires being scraped against metal grates. The passersby who happened to take note of Jack’s bruised face and the five-inch knife hooked to Kate’s waistband cut a wide circle around them.

  The majority of people didn’t pay them any attention at all. They were used to living amongst hoodlums and gangs in the midst of steam and stench and smoke and refuse.

  “Looks like our friends have disappeared,” Kate said.

  “Friends?”

  “Charlie wasn’t the only one after you. I had to break Sheldon’s arm in order to give you a fighting chance.”

  “Thanks, but I could have handled it myself.”

  “I’m sure you could have.” She stopped in her tracks when she saw the bearded man come around the corner. A group of ruffians followed close on his heels.

  “Speaking of the devil,” Kate said. From the looks of things, the bearded man had wasted little time in gathering a small Haitian army of burly teenage boys. Judging by the fierce look in their young eyes, they were willing to do just about anything for a buck.

  “This way,” Kate said, grabbing Jack’s arm before the group spotted them. “There’s a motorcycle with a for-sale sign at the garage across the street.” They bent low and shoved their way through the crowded street.

  Kate wriggled her fingers in Coffey’s face. “Give me your cash,” she told him.

  Hastily, he pulled a few hundred dollars in twenties from his wallet and slapped them into her open palm.

  She took the money and disappeared inside the graffiti covered building. A minute later, she was running toward him with the keys. Jack snatched the keys from her. “I’ll drive.”

  “I know the way to the airport.” She took the keys back.

  He didn’t argue with her. There wasn’t time.

  Kate grasped both handlebar grips, stood on the left foot peg and swung her right leg over the saddle. The engine sputtered and died, prompting Kate to jiggle the fuel valve, close the air shutter and depress both carburetor chokes.

  Jack took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. The thugs weren’t anywhere in sight. He glanced at his watch. Twenty-three minutes.

  Kate pushed down hard on the start lever with her left foot. The engine fired up, emitting the smell of raw, unburned gasoline. Keeping the engine rolling with just enough throttle, she opened the air shutter and the choke. Jack jumped on back and slid his arms around her waist. If they weren’t in such a hurry, he might have taken a few moments to enjoy the sensation of holding her in his arms. Instead, Kate kicked the lever into gear. The engine sputtered and squealed before it finally came to life.

  They were off.

  Kate rounded the first corner a bit too sharp, prompting Jack to use his feet to keep them upright until they merged onto the main street. After a few blocks, Jack looked over his shoulder. They were being followed by a beat-up taxicab. Good ol’ Charlie had survived the fall from the second story window. Charlie sat in the passenger seat waving his hands like a madman. The man was like a cat with nine lives.

  “We have visitors,” Jack told her.

  Kate squeezed the throttle. �
��Come on baby. Give me all you’ve got.”

  The engine growled and then screeched when she downshifted in order to swerve around a group of kids crossing the street.

  Jack glanced behind him. The cab had been forced to stop and wait for the crowd to pass.

  Kate hit the throttle again. The wheels kicked up dust. She made a sharp cut between an uncovered manhole and an elderly woman selling baskets of grain. The woman threw her arms in the air and let out a string of Haitian curses.

  Once they gained some speed, the engine hummed to life. Kate’s long hair blew away from her face and into his eyes.

  Thwack thwack thwack. A spray of bullets hit the car in front of them, shattering the back windshield.

  “Stay low!” Jack shouted.

  Kate squeezed down on the throttle. The front wheel came off the ground before they gained momentum and circled around the car in front of them.

  “We’ll never get there in time,” he shouted over the engine’s roar. “Stop at the next corner.”

  Kate rounded another bend and brought the bike to a skidding halt at the corner of Delmas and Rue P. Obin, the street leading to the airport.

  A beat-up taxi was parked at the side of the dusty road. The driver was asleep. “Get into the passenger side of the first cab,” he told Kate.

  Jack hurried to the driver’s window. “Bad news,” he told the driver, gesturing with his hands. “Your back tire is flat.”

  The other cab would be coming around the corner any minute now. Jack scratched the back of his neck, grimacing as he pretended to look at the flat tire. If the driver didn’t get out of the cab soon, he was going to have to drag him out by his collar.

  Grudgingly, the driver opened the door and climbed out to take a look for himself. Jack waited until the man was all the way at the back of the car before he jumped behind the wheel and turned on the ignition. Kate threw open the passenger door and slid in beside him.

  Jack floored it. Tires squealed and the driver shouted. A cloud of dust was all Jack saw in his rearview mirror and for the next fifteen minutes they made good time.

  At seventy miles per hour the vehicle shook and the wheels rattled. He was afraid the metal frame was going to separate from the axle. And just when he thought they might be safe, Charlie and his pals were on his tail again. A round of bullets sprayed against the cab. He swerved from one side of the deeply rutted road to the other.

  The car hit them from behind. Their vehicle jerked forward. Jack kept a tight grip on the steering wheel and concentrated on the road ahead of him. The street was narrow and covered with too many divots. Kate pulled a pistol from her bag, leaned out the window, and fired. Charlie and his friends fired back. Glass shattered across the backseat.

  Jack reached over and yanked on her shirt. “Get down!”

  “Watch out!” Kate said.

  Jack jerked the wheel too late. The right tire hit the edge of a pothole, sending the car sideways. Kate slammed into his side. She scrambled to get off of him and give him room.

  Jack’s body tensed, figuring the vehicle was going to flip, but the right side of the cab dropped back down with a jarring thud. The back bumper flew off, crashing into the car behind them.

  “That should slow them down,” Kate said. “We’re almost there.”

  Up ahead he saw the runway, and one lone plane...their ride out of here. The only thing keeping them from reaching the plane was a chain-link fence. Jack tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Strap yourself in and hang on.”

  Kate snapped the seatbelt in place and braced her palms against the dashboard just before Jack drove into the fence. The impact jolted them forward and then back again. A large section of chain-link fence clung to the front end of their car as they skidded across gravel. Kate glanced over her shoulder. “Looks like they’ve been detained.”

  In the rearview mirror, Jack saw that a lengthy metal pole had propelled backwards and shot straight through the other cab. He pulled up close to the plane and hit the brakes. The wheels squealed against asphalt, filling the air with the smell of burnt rubber.

  He looked at Kate. His heart pumped with adrenaline. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. How about you?”

  “I’m good. Let’s go.” Snatching his backpack, he climbed out. The pilot stood at the top of the landing, waving them inside. Jack ushered Kate up the narrow stairs in front of him. Close behind, the sound of bullets rang out.

  Two men ran across the tarmac toward them.

  Jack helped the pilot with the door before the pilot rushed toward the cockpit. Jack leaned over Kate to help her with her seatbelt.

  “I’ve got it,” she said.

  Once again, he raised his hands in surrender.

  The plane headed full speed down the runway. The wheels lifted and in minutes they were high above the sounds of sirens speeding along the runway. Kate leaned back and closed her eyes, waiting for a bullet to hit the engine and send them into a fiery descent. By the time she got the nerve to peek out the small oval window all she saw was the rippling blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.

  “That was close,” Jack said. “We’re safe now.”

  Kate didn’t share his feelings of relief. She felt exposed. For the first time in years she was in unfamiliar territory. She didn’t like it one bit.

  Jack must have sensed her vulnerability because he reached over and took her hand. She wasn’t used to people touching her. Instead of pushing him away though, she looked at the hand covering hers. She couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her with such gentleness. His hands were strong, capable, his nails neatly clipped. Her hands looked weathered in comparison, her nails ragged and worn down to the quick. Her fingers looked thin and fragile. Fragile was the last thing she wanted to be. She couldn’t afford to be fragile. Not if she wanted to stay alive. She pulled her hand away.

  Despite her pulling back, Jack smiled at her as he leaned his head back against the cushioned headrest. “A long hot shower, a big juicy steak, and a nice glass of wine, preferably 1997 Stags Leap Cabernet Sauvignon, will be waiting for us when we land.”

  Kate tried to summon a bit of Jack’s optimism, but it was no use. “I don’t remember the feel of hot water drizzling over my head or the taste of well-cooked meat.” Nor had she ever had the pleasure of sampling even a small taste of fine wine. For the last ten years she’d survived mainly on conch, mangos, and grayish unfiltered water.

  He was watching her. She didn’t like the pity she saw in his eyes. The thought of returning to the States terrified her, which in turn made her incredibly angry. Fear no longer had a place in her life. She ate fear for dinner. She needed to stay focused. Focus is what helped keep her alive all these years. That same single-mindedness would see her to the end of her journey, to that moment when she would attain the one thing for which she lived. Revenge. Anyone associated with her father’s death would pay.

  Her fingers curled into fists. She was far from the fragile little girl she’d been so many years ago. She shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. The thought of settling scores made it easier to breathe. For the past ten years not a day went by that she didn’t relive the last horrifying moments with her father. For ten years she’d dreamed of serpent tattoos and grayish black eyes. Yes, revenge would be sweet - far more satisfying than any fine wine Jack could ever offer her.

  Chapter 4

  Michael Ray Harrison looked about the Biltmore Hotel ballroom with distaste. According to the media, tonight’s AIDS fundraiser was going to be Los Angeles’s event of the year. Hundreds of celebrities dressed in designer tuxes and sequin gowns would arrive within the hour to help save the world.

  His young wife’s hand rested on his arm as he looked around the ten thousand square feet of extravaganza. The room was set up for dancing beneath myriad crystal lights suspended from a soaring ceiling. He took in row after row of tables covered with fine white linen and accented with crystal vases filled to the brim with f
resh flowers.

  He hated the thought of how much this event was costing the organization. But he also knew the more bountiful the glitz and glamour, the more money they would bring in when the night was over. Nobody knew how to put on a charity event and lure the media as well as Dr. Elizabeth Kramer. She’d been putting on events for AIDS research for well over a decade. It was all about knowing who to invite, and then making sure they showed up.

  Harrison had seen the other side of the coin, too. There were organizers of charity events who thought they could throw a crab feed and call it a day. He’d never forget the celebrity ski event he’d attended with his first wife. Hot dogs and beer were served as B-list stars were paraded around for a few hours. The organizers ended up giving away more than they got.

  He had learned a lot over the years from Elizabeth. The more ostentatious the event, the more money they netted at the end of the night. And tonight would more than likely exceed all of their wildest dreams.

  “There’s Elizabeth,” his wife said as they watched the woman approach from across the room.

  Harrison took note of his wife’s critical gaze as she compared Elizabeth’s purple beaded gown to her own Elizabeth Emanuel silk chiffon. His gaze roamed over his wife’s slim waist. “How much did that dress cost me, sweetheart?”

  Instead of answering, Sheila smiled and squeezed his arm.

  “So nice to see you,” Elizabeth said to Harrison and his wife.

  Despite breaking off his affair with Elizabeth months ago, it was clear by the way Elizabeth looked longingly into his eyes that the woman was having a tough time letting go.

  “We’re glad to be here,” Sheila said. “Lovely gown.”

  Harrison met Elizabeth’s gaze. For a woman well into her fifties, she was pleasant on the eyes. She was also quite intellectual, an attribute that had drawn him to her from the very first moment they met. “The room, my dear Elizabeth, looks almost as divine as you.”

  Elizabeth blushed and gestured toward a young woman giving instructions to the waiters and waitresses. “I’m afraid the champagne hasn’t been brought out yet, but if you would like I could have my assistant, Amy, bring out a bottle in honor of your arrival.”