by Lyn Stone
“We’ll go out the back. This way, please,” he said, as deferential as a doorman.
“Get some backup to check it out, Holly,” Will insisted.
“He’d be gone before Jack could get anybody here. We need to take this guy alive. It’s one on one. I can do that.”
“What about your weapon?” he asked.
She laughed, threading her arm through his as they walked outside. “Wearing them both. They never even frisked me. I was planning to give old Lloyd an embarrassing lesson in apprehension.”
“We’ve got bigger fish to fry, Holly.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I know. Got my apron on, honey. Let’s set the table.”
“Don’t try to be cute. You don’t need to do this by yourself. I won’t let you.” The minute the words left his mouth, he knew they were a huge mistake. He had just blown any chance he might have had of talking her out of it. Nobody, but nobody, ever told Holly Amberson she couldn’t do anything.
She could, she would and he had no way to stop her.
“You’d do the same thing,” she reminded him.
Unfortunately, she was right. They could not afford to lose this opportunity to capture one of Odin’s men. Waiting for backup from Jack would take too long. The locals would surround the area and go in with guns blazing if they knew what all this was about. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t go at all.
Stealth was better. A quiet takedown. Holly was right. Will would have to grit his teeth and pray a lot.
Holly ran every scenario she could think of through her mind as they rode back to the hotel in the patrol car with Officer Ruis.
“If he’s there, how do you think he’ll play it, Will?”
“He won’t be subtle. His orders are to make sure we’re dead. He’ll open fire the minute we drive up. He might wait until we exit the vehicle, but I doubt it. So what approach are you planning?”
“Back door, of course.” She checked her weapon, tucked it inside her waistband again, then pulled the smaller pistol from the holster at her ankle and checked that, too. She’d be facing a fully automatic weapon, the one they had barely dodged at the river, so this could not be a head-on confrontation.
“Ruis, I want you to drop us a couple of blocks away,” she said.
“Ma’am, I heard what y’all said. Some dude’s gunning for you?” The young officer stared at her, wide-eyed.
She did not need a rookie getting in the way. “Just drop me out of sight of the hotel,” she ordered.
“You need more firepower? Hey, I got firepower. Shotgun under the seat,” he offered. “Or I can create a distraction, maybe draw him out for you.”
“Stay out of it,” she insisted. “This is not police business.”
“This is a good place,” Ruis said as he drove around behind a packing company that was closed. He got out of the car and opened the door for her.
Then he pointed off to his left. “See, it’s a straight shot from here to the back of the hotel, and you’ll have cover from the barrier of trees that flank the interstate. If you want me to, I’ll—”
“Thanks, no. Loan me some cuffs.”
Ruis handed them to her.
“I want you to stay here, Ruis. Right in this spot, you hear me? I’ll have that badge of yours if you don’t!”
She turned to Will. “And you, too. If our boy’s not there yet, I’ll get the Jeep and be back for you in a few minutes.”
“We should dump the Jeep,” he said.
“Can’t. It’s Eric’s. Besides, if I get this guy, we won’t have to worry about that.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Then we’ll call Jack and see what he wants us to do next.”
“And if he is there?” Will asked.
“I always get my man.”
“Holly…”
“Don’t buck me on this, Will. You know I’ll stand a better chance if I go in alone.”
He held out his hand and she took it. “Trust me, Will. I’ve got it covered, okay?”
“Right,” he said, giving her fingers a squeeze. “Don’t be long.”
“Back in a few.”
No goodbyes. Assume success. No need for farewells.
Still, when Will let go of her hand this time, Holly had a galloping desire to run into his arms and promise him she would be careful, that she would be back to finish what they had begun in that room.
Weapon in hand, she slipped soundlessly behind the staggered rows of brushy Virginia pines planted to cut traffic noise. What she wouldn’t give to have Will along, his eyes in good working order, providing backup. It must be hell for him, sitting back there in that cruiser with Cop, Jr.
It was not quite dark at five o’clock, but it soon would be. She ignored the prickly needles scraping her face and hands as she worked her way closer to the motel, all the while trying to think like the shooter. Profiling was her strength. Knowing the enemy.
Though she didn’t know this guy personally, he wasn’t a complete stranger to her. She had listened to his high-pitched voice and heard him decimate the bank over her head with that fully automatic weapon.
He was a hired gun—apparently a loyal one, for a man like Odin to trust him with completing this job. That probably meant the two had a history together, with Odin definitely in a position of command, given their conversation. Maybe he was an older relative, military superior or something of that nature.
This man was no leader, and certainly not a planner. He would employ the most direct, speedy and surefire method of finishing them off. That meant an unexpected hail of bullets at fairly close range.
If he was waiting for them, she doubted he would be hiding in the trees or bushes. He’d be a fool to risk waiting for them in their room. Most likely he would be in or near his vehicle in the back parking lot, primed for a quick getaway once he took them out. The on-ramp to the interstate was only a couple of blocks away, providing a perfect escape. He could be long gone before anyone rolled on a 911 call.
Holly parted the branches and peeked out into the parking lot. There were just half a dozen vehicles and all appeared vacant. Only one was parked to drive straight out—a fifteen-year-old Lincoln that she could probably outrun on foot.
Where the hell was he?
Obviously not here, she thought as she continued to examine the other vehicles just in case he was too stupid to park like a pro, or didn’t care whether he was caught.
There were two cumbersome vans, an ancient Volkswagen, a shiny new Dodge sedan, the Jeep they had borrowed from Eric and the old white Lincoln.
She relaxed a little and moved to another vantage point. Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet, could have had car trouble, or perhaps Odin had problems getting through to him with the information about where they were.
A distant burst of gunfire riddled the night. The blast of a shotgun. He was at the squad car! Will!
Throwing stealth to the winds, Holly ran at top speed back the way she had come, dodging trees, blocking the spiky branches with her free arm. Her mind screamed Will’s name while terror closed her throat.
Defenseless. Will had no weapon, no chance. He would be dead before she could reach him.
She raised her weapon, holding it with both hands as she broke free of the tree line and dashed heedlessly into the open when she reached the spot where she had left them.
A burning flare lit the entire area behind the building. Cordite burned her nostrils. Gun smoke hung heavily on the cool night air.
The police car blocked her view of what was going on between it and the other car.
“Will!” she cried, running in a crouch toward the cruiser, using it for cover.
“Down! Holly, stay down!” he shouted.
She fell next to the vehicle and rolled underneath it. Will was crouched on the other side, probably between the car and the door. She could see his feet encased in muddy Nikes.
“I’m here, Will,” she gasped, crawling out from under the car to join him, her gaze flying around to assess the situation.
The young cop lay huddled next to the back wheel, blood pooling around him.
Will, sheltered behind the open door of the passenger side, appeared unhurt. At least he was still upright.
“You hit?” she asked him, praying.
“No. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Another car, a dark Mercury, sat less than forty feet away, the driver’s door open. Halfway between the car and the police cruiser lay the driver, cut nearly in half by the blast of the shotgun Will was still holding.
“It’s over, Will,” she said. “You got him. Let’s see about Junior. He’s been hit.”
She grabbed Will by the hand and drew him closer to the cop, then unrolled Ruis from his fetal position.
“Put down the shotgun and hold his flashlight.” The thing was slippery, covered in blood where Ruis had clutched it to his chest. She directed the beam for Will.
“How bad is it?”
“One, maybe two hits in the shoulder. I’ll guide your hand, Will. Apply pressure while I see if he’s hit anywhere else.”
She found only a nick on his leg, then pressed the officer’s collar mike. “We’ve got an officer down. I repeat, officer down. Request ambulance at 1400 block of Nolan Avenue behind the packing company. Hurry!”
With that, she sat back on her heels and relieved Will of his task. The blood wasn’t pumping out, but it hadn’t quite stopped. “You’re gonna make it, Ruis.”
The young man grimaced as he looked up at Will. “Got him, sir?”
“Only because of you,” Will said gently. “That was some fancy footwork under fire, Ruis. Not to mention the light display. That flare you shot behind him did the trick.”
“Tell…Lloyd, will ya?” Ruis coughed and closed his eyes.
“You bet.”
A siren screamed in the distance, growing louder by the second. Holly wanted to throw her arms around Will and hold him tight, rejoice in the fact that by some miracle he was still alive, but there was the kid in uniform, bleeding beneath her hand.
“I knew he’d come for us when the cops released us,” Will said angrily. “Why would I think the motel? He had to have trailed us from the station.”
“He was a scatterbrained punk, Will. How’re you supposed to read half a mind, huh?”
Will crouched there beside her, as he slowly shook his head. “There was no way I could take him alive.”
“I don’t think either of us could have done that. There’s still a chance his identity will lead us to Odin.”
Six hours later they were ready to head out again, this time with no plans to stop until they reached Atlanta.
Ruis had made it through surgery. Though his condition was critical, the prognosis was good. Will owed his life to the rookie and felt almost guilty for coming through the incident without so much as a scratch.
The poor kid had emptied his pistol, taking a couple of hits in the process, and still managed to shoot that flare and light things up the way Will ordered. If not for that, they would both be dead now.
Jack had flown in Joe Corda to stay and coordinate with the locals on identifying the shooter, and to control the press.
Jack also insisted that Will have his eyes examined then and there. A brief summary of his medical history arrived by fax, and Will submitted to the necessary scans at the local hospital while Holly hovered with her usual concern.
Now, as she drove down the interstate, she kept urging him to recline his seat and get some sleep.
“They should have given you a sedative,” she complained.
“Holly, I’m fine. Not even a headache. Give it a rest, will you?”
“See, you’re tense as a piano wire. You never…well, hardly ever…fuss back at me. That just proves my point.”
“I’m not fussing at you, Holly,” he argued. “In fact, I’m feeling relieved. You heard the doctor. Tissue swelling will continue to go down and my sight should improve.” Should was the key term here.
The neurologist had qualified her diagnosis with that word, indicating that the results of the tests were hopeful, but not altogether certain. Neither was Will.
His vision had not gotten much better in the last twenty-four hours, or else the improvement was so subtle he couldn’t tell it was happening.
He could see blurry silhouettes if the lighting was stark. Proof of that lay in the local morgue back there in that burg. He always hated to get in a kill-or-be-killed situation, but he was glad he had prevailed. This was war and he was trained for that.
Holly was right about the tension. Nothing had ever shaken him up more than having to fire that shotgun at an anonymous target. A raging, moving target, outlined by the glaring light of the flare, spraying death in a wide arc, bent on killing. Will could still feel the man’s zeal for it. Not a madness he ever wanted to share mentally again.
He had connected finally, at close range. What did this mean, his linking minds with killers? With a terrorist and traitor?
“Think about something else,” Holly ordered, as if she knew the black thoughts running through his head. “How about some music?” She reached for the radio.
“No, thank you very much,” he snapped, remembering that lazy sax stirring him up the last time they had attempted to use music as a distraction. And that memory promptly dished up the torrid scene in the motel room just before the police had showed up to haul them in.
“You know we were lucky we got interrupted,” she remarked, attached to his train of thought like a damn caboose.
It was downright spooky. Having your twin do that seemed fairly normal, but the woman you lov…liked?
He scoffed. “Lucky, you say? Pardon me if I don’t share your definition of luck.”
Holly laughed, but it sounded tentative, uncertain, unlike her usual confident self. “Right now we would have been scrabbling around like crazy, trying to think of something to say to get us back to where we were before.”
He heard that thoughtful little hum of hers, then she added, “No, I think it just wasn’t meant to be, you know?”
No, he didn’t know any such thing. He still wanted her, worse than he ever had before, and he wasn’t even aroused at the moment. He wanted to kiss her again, hold her, lie down with her, be with her.
Not only did he want her, he needed her. But it wasn’t all about him, he realized. What did Holly want and what did she need besides a lover? She had been more than ready to accept him as that, at least on a one-time basis. Unless he was mistaken, she would be again regardless of what she was saying now.
He could please her sexually, he didn’t doubt that. At least he had never had any complaints in that department. It was her other needs that concerned him most.
Who looked after Holly when she wasn’t on the job? Her only family was her mother, who had moved back to the Islands. Holly had no social life except for hanging out with him and the other members of the team. She got her nails done weekly and shopped, he supposed. Other than that, her work seemed to be her whole life. She definitely needed more than that.
Why couldn’t he be the one? So he didn’t have any experience when it came to getting seriously attached to a woman. He could learn. It wouldn’t have to be official, if that was what was scaring her.
He couldn’t recall ever being able to really talk to a woman about the things he discussed with Holly. They could say just about anything at all to each other. He trusted her. He cared about her.
The couple of feet separating them right now seemed a tremendous chasm he ached to leap, but he didn’t quite know how without ruining everything.
Will sensed Holly studying his face, snatching brief glances in his direction to judge his mood, divine his thoughts. She was too damn good at that last effort, he realized, not sure whether it was due to her inherent and uncanny talent at reading people or if she really could ferret out his thoughts by some psychic means.
“I want you,” he blurted, figuring he might as well say it outright and be done with it.
Again she laughed, a s
ofter sound this time, a little more self-assured than before. “I know. And you’re not used to being denied whatever you want, are you?”
“You make me sound like a spoiled kid,” he protested, adjusting his seat belt, running his thumb inside the strap, loosening it over his chest, then crossing his arms over it. “Is that how you see me?”
The Jeep seemed to leap forward, prompting him to brace a hand against the dash. She must be in a hurry to get to Atlanta, to end this conversation. Or land them under a pileup.
When she answered, however, she didn’t sound upset, only resigned. “I see you as a man who always gets what he wants one way or another, but you’re usually more patient about it, more methodical, too.”
“You think I’m manipulative?”
“Determined and persistent,” she qualified. “Most of the time I admire the way you stick to your guns until you get results. In this case, though, I think you need to back off for your own good. And mine.”
Will ground his teeth, turned his head away from her. “No means no. I got it.”
“It can’t go anywhere. That’s all I’m saying, Will. You know that as well as I do. You said so yourself. Sex for the sake of sex won’t work for people like us. For friends and sometime partners.”
“I said I got it,” he repeated, “so just forget it.”
“No, you’re not going to think about anything else until we settle it, so let’s do that.”
“Spare me the reasonable dialogue, all right? You sound like a damn psychologist.”
“Only because I am,” she reminded him. “And even if my credentials aren’t Ivy League like yours, I’m freakin’ good at it.”
“Granted, but I’m not some weirdo perp you need to pigeonhole.”
He stifled his anger as best he could, evened his breathing and calmed down a little. Then he looked at her, straining to see more than her dark shape against the car window, trying to visualize her features, her expression.
Would she look sad, contemplative or merely amused?
“So, aside from my obvious and hopefully temporary flaw, what is it about me that puts you off?” he asked, trying to sound offhand.
“I’m not quite that shallow, Will. Your vision or lack of it doesn’t enter into the equation and you know it. You also know I’m not put off by you at all. If I were, that sure would simplify everything. At least for me.”