“She’s fine. A lot of blood, but most of it’s from Rodriguez,” he said grimly.
“Most?” Izzy spared precious seconds to look back at Jack. “Were you hit?”
Jack grunted. “Took a round in the arm. Feels like it went right through.”
“Get my medical kit from the passenger seat and take off your shirt,” Izzy barked. “We’ve got to clean you up.”
Jack shrugged off his bloody jacket and was reaching for his shirt when Taylor pushed away his hands.
Her lips were set in a hard line. “I’ll do it.” She flinched when she felt the blood covering his arm, then took two quick breaths. “Okay, here’s what I see, Izzy. He’s got an entry wound at the side of his arm, but I can’t tell the exit point. There’s too much blood.” She took another breath, studying the jagged wound in the flicker of streetlights as the van shot onto the freeway, headed north. “What do I do next?”
“You’re going to need the red box.” Izzy glanced back, frowning. “Sure you can handle this?”
“I’m sure.” Taylor’s voice was cold. “Just tell me what to do.”
They changed cars in Walnut Creek and again near Benicia, just beneath the shadow of the big bridge. Thanks to Izzy’s contacts, they were met in each location, and no one asked questions or mentioned the bloody clothes Jack had left in the van.
Two hours later they were headed toward Carson City, Nevada, eating up the miles in a big red Chrysler. Taylor had slept for a while, then taken the wheel so Izzy could check her handiwork and stitch up Jack’s arm.
“Here’s the bad news. No tennis for a month,” Izzy muttered.
Jack stared out at the darkness. “Tell that to Nancy Rodriguez.”
“Put it away, Broussard. She knew her job,” Izzy said quietly. “She knew when she walked out the door each morning, it might be a one-way trip.”
“Is that supposed to make her death acceptable?” Jack growled, shoving his fist against the doorframe.
“No, it’s supposed to make you start being smart. Put the emotions behind you, because they can only get you killed.”
After a long time Jack released an angry breath. “I know the drill, Izzy. I’ve lost men in firefights before, but never when my own side started the cross fire. Only a coward runs.”
“Right now, only a fool would stay,” Izzy said flatly. “Anyone could have set you up. I don’t know who I can trust.”
Jack grimaced as he tried to move his shoulder. “What story will you give Admiral Braden when you get back?”
Izzy’s face was a study in quiet violence beneath the passing lights. “I’ll report that you were taken by unknown assailants, and I followed you as far as the airport freight terminal, where I lost you despite my best efforts. I’ll also report that you were both hit by substantial fire before you were taken. It’s even possible you didn’t survive.”
Jack smiled for the first time since he’d heard the tap at the hotel room door. “Not bad, Teague. For a computer geek, you lie pretty good.”
Izzy muttered a low answer that had Jack laughing.
In the front seat, Taylor was getting edgy. She looked back at the two men. “If this lovely moment of male bonding is done, maybe one of you could tell me where I’m supposed to turn off.” Her fingers were white where they clutched the wheel.
“You’re doing great.” Izzy leaned forward. “The exit’s about three miles ahead on the left. Watch for a gold Cadillac.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were supposed to be inconspicuous.”
“Rule number one.” Izzy’s voice took on the smooth rasp of his female alter ego. “Hide in plain sight, sugah. Nobody going to look for you in a big, gold Cadillac.” His voice morphed back to normal. “Besides, I used up a lot of favors getting you here, so I didn’t have many options left.” He nodded as a green exit sign flashed in the glare of the headlights. “There it is, Taylor. Head east at the ramp. He’ll be parked in an abandoned drive-in about three miles up the road.” Izzy reached into his medical kit and pulled out a black zippered bag. “Suck it in, Navy.” He held up a wicked-looking syringe. “Time for your yearly shots.”
“Navy?” Taylor glanced back, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Jack stared at the exit ramp as Izzy went to work with the syringe.
It was still dark when they said grim good-byes outside a run-down diner in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Izzy had done most of the driving, and after four car changes, they were nearly certain that no one had followed, especially since Izzy had been careful to toss their government pagers and cell phones into the first garbage truck they had passed rumbling out of San Jose.
Global positioning systems were standard on current tactical communications issue, and they were leaving no clues to contradict Izzy’s forthcoming report. During the long ride, he and Jack had worked out a solid story about the firefight outside the hotel. Only one person would know it was a lie, and that was the insider who had betrayed them.
Izzy was determined to find out who that was.
Taylor gave Izzy a shaky kiss. “That’s for saving my life. I owe you big time.” She tried for a grin. “Want to be in my next book?”
“Only if I get to beat up the SEAL at the end.”
“What SEAL?” Jack leaned against the side of the gray Explorer, scanning the highway.
“Beats me.” The humor faded from Izzy’s eyes. “Watch your six o’clock, Broussard. These people are damned slick. I’d come with you, but I have to stay and run damage control.”
Coffee steamed in a big thermos as Jack slid behind the wheel and waited for Taylor to stow her purse. Then he reached up to shake hands with Izzy. “What Taylor said. You know.” He cleared his throat. “Ditto.”
Izzy cocked his head. “Don’t tell me I get to be in your book, too?”
Jack slanted him an irritated look and started to speak, but Izzy cut him off. “I’ll collect on any favors when I know you two are safe.” He pushed away from the Explorer and swept a glance across the deserted road. “Better get moving. You should be able to make your destination in about ten hours.” His eyes narrowed. “Remember the five-minute rule.”
“Will do.”
As the sun cleared the horizon, Jack raised a hand, and the Explorer headed east into the bloodred light of dawn.
“What did he mean by five-minute rule?”
“You know Izzy.” Jack rolled his shoulders. “It’s one of his jokes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Jack gave a half-grin. “You don’t believe anyone.”
Maybe he was right. Taylor realized she was exhausted, and she wasn’t thinking straight. With the adrenaline rush finally wearing off, her body had turned sluggish.
Fighting sleep, she stared into the sunrise. “Are you a SEAL?”
“Does it matter?”
“If I weren’t so exhausted, it would. I don’t like being lied to.”
“Whatever you were told was necessary, Taylor.”
“People usually say that to justify hurting someone.” She watched a hawk glide through pink clouds. “So where are we headed?”
“Arizona.”
“I have some friends in Tucson,” she said. “We met at a great spa last year.”
“There won’t be any aromatherapy wraps where we’re headed,” Jack said grimly. “Almost is strictly a meat-and-potatoes kind of place.”
“Almost what?”
“Almost, Arizona. That’s where we’ll be staying until we hear from Izzy.”
Taylor rested her head against the seat. “Do you think he can find the leak?”
“He will.” Jack’s voice was grim. “Nancy Rodriguez was a good friend. He’s got a personal score to settle.”
Taylor frowned at him. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be personal.”
“Tell that to Izzy.”
Taylor remembered Izzy’s face when he’d hustled her into the van. “Good.” She shuddered at the mem
ory of the fallen agent in a pool of blood. “I only wish I could help.”
“You can help by thinking about those questions Izzy asked.”
“Every contact I had with Rains or Candace, you mean. Sorry, but I still don’t believe that Candace is involved in anything criminal.” Taylor blinked, trying to keep her eyes open, not that there was much to see on the winding road.
Jack drank some coffee, then looked across at her. “No need to stay awake. Except for necessities, we’re not stopping until we get to Arizona. There’s a blanket in the backseat if you want to stretch out.”
“I’ll stay up here.” The truth was, Taylor didn’t want to be out of touching range. The smell of blood and fear and gunfire overwhelmed her when she closed her eyes. Only the nearness of Jack’s body held the horror at bay.
She wedged her pillow between them. He didn’t speak when she ran her hand along his chest, then curled up closer.
He was too experienced with death not to know that she was fighting bad memories.
“Put it out of your mind, Taylor.”
“How?” She took a raw breath. “It’s one thing to see death in your head and plot the entry wound from different angles. It’s one thing to know the motive, assailant, and murder weapon.” She fought a wave of pain and regret. “It’s something else entirely when you watch someone fall, hear their breath cut away, and know they died for one reason—because they were protecting you. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Rains, none of this would have happened.” Her voice tightened. “If I’d been smart, Nancy Rodriguez might still be alive, too.”
Jack’s callused fingers gripped her shoulder. “Forget the guilt. Whoever took out Agent Rodriguez was after a lot more than you or me. The only way you’ll stay focused is to remember that.”
Taylor thought about his words, watching clouds boil up behind mountains that rose like dark sentinels to the south. “Does staying focused make you feel better?”
His hands clenched. “Not much.”
At least he was honest.
“So what do you do?”
“You live with it. You pray that someday you won’t see the image of a bloody chest or a broken body as if it had happened yesterday. And you make a vow that sometime, some way, the death will be avenged.” His fingers slid into her hair and then she felt him relax. “Now go to sleep and stop asking so damned many questions.”
Without looking up, Taylor found his hand. “Thanks for telling me the truth.” She stifled a yawn. “I’ll drive whenever you want. Your shoulder—”
Jack touched her face gently. “Is fine. Maybe you can take over in a few hours. Meanwhile, I’ve got about two gallons of coffee here if I need it.”
“I can stay awake,” she insisted.
“But you don’t have to,” Jack said. “Go ahead and rest while you can. Stop arguing.”
“I don’t.” She yawned. “Argue. Not much.”
“Like hell you don’t. You enjoy every precious second. What’s frightening is the fact that I’m starting to like it,” he muttered.
No answer.
Jack looked across the seat as Taylor’s purse slid off her lap onto the floor.
She was already asleep.
Lulled by the brush of Jack’s warm body and the rhythm of the moving car, Taylor closed her eyes. All sound stilled; the world receded.
And instantly she was back in the killing zone.
She heard the tap at the door, saw Nancy Rodriguez step inside, smiling at Jack seconds before a hail of bullets exploded, tearing a row of crimson holes into her chest.
Taylor moaned, trying to fight her way through the dream. Blood was everywhere, carrying the cold scent of death.
“Wake up, honey. Come on, stop fighting.”
Something was holding her, shaking her. The blood was thick, choking, smoke everywhere. She was falling, falling—
“Taylor, wake up. You’re safe.”
It was too cold, too quiet. Something was on the floor in front of her. A body that didn’t move. Dark, unfocused eyes that would never see again.
Taylor flung out her arms, fighting the darkness. When her hand struck something, she opened her eyes on a sob to find Jack’s arms wrapped around her. His seat belt was gone and she was curled against his chest, fighting hard, her back pressed against the wheel.
Her face was cold, slick with tears.
She took a shuddering breath. “I—was dreaming. Everything smelled like death.” She pressed her face against his chest and inhaled the unforgettable scent of sweat and wind, soap and man. “I couldn’t get away, Jack. I tried but they kept coming.”
He pressed his lips to her hair. “Let it go, Taylor. You can’t help her by replaying what happened, and you can’t rewrite the lines so they come out the way you want.”
Had she been doing that? Trying by sheer force of will to stop the bullets and edit away that terrible instant of spraying blood?
She made a shaky sound, pressing her cheek against the soft hair at his chest. With a sigh, she twined her arms around his neck.
The steering wheel cut into her back, and she shifted to get comfortable. As she did, her thighs pressed against his. Taylor looked up slowly. “Jack?”
“What?” His voice was husky.
Suddenly her need was immense. She wanted to hold and be held. “Do you have a pistol?”
“One in the glove compartment. One in my boot.” His eyes were very dark.
She smiled faintly. “So that isn’t a gun I’m feeling.”
His eyes narrowed. “Bad timing.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Taylor slid forward, savoring the feel of him, hot and hard, thrusting against her.
He cursed as she slanted a kiss over his hard mouth, coaxing his lips open with her tongue. She was hot, but she wanted to be much hotter, and this SEAL was just the one to make it happen.
His hands tightened, gripping her arms. “Taylor, we’ve got a lot of driving ahead of us. It’s not safe to stop here.”
She bit down just hard enough to make him curse. His hands fell, cupping her hips and pulling her against him so that she felt the full outline of an amazing erection. This time he did the taking, as he caught her mouth beneath his.
When he finally pulled away, Jack’s eyes held something that was one small step removed from savagery. “We’ll continue this later, understand? But we’ll be in a double bed with a locked door and we won’t be wearing so damned many clothes.” He deposited her back into her seat. “Buckle up,” he added grimly. “I plan to skirt the edge of every speed limit between here and Arizona.”
Early afternoon.
Somewhere at the edge of the Sonoran Desert.
Taylor stifled a yawn.
They’d been back and forth over every second of her few contacts with Rains and every conversation with Candace, but they’d come up with nothing new. If Rains had put any object into her apartment, it had to be invisible. The only things Candace had given her was the set of climbing photos and a dog-eared copy of People magazine that was two months out of date. After that, Taylor gave up.
To the south, clouds rose like rival cities in an azure sky that went on forever. The light was different here, the sense of space unnerving. On every side she saw sharp peaks and a vast, rolling desert where nothing seemed to move.
“Are we there yet?”
Jack’s mouth flashed in a faint grin. “Almost.”
“Very funny.” She watched light play over the mountains. “We don’t seem to be making any progress.”
“With this kind of distances you can push all you want, but things happen in their own time.” He watched a hawk cut through the clear, clean air. “This isn’t exactly a vacation for us, Mrs. Stone.”
Taylor’s brow rose. “Does this mean the honeymoon’s off, Mr. Stone?”
“Ask me that in about four hours,” Jack growled.
That sounded promising. Taylor sat back, enjoying the thought of Jack beside her, naked in a hot tub. Suddenly she shot uprig
ht. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Those dark things over by that spiky tree.”
“They’re called mesquite trees.”
“Whatever.” Taylor pointed to the crest of a sage-covered hill. “See, there they go again.”
“The dark things are called coyotes,” Jack said dryly.
“No kidding.” Taylor leaned out the window, letting the warm air ruffle her hair. “There must be seven or eight of them.” The small, wiry animals trotted along the rim of a wash not fifty feet away.
“They’re social. Live and die as a family unit. Mate for life, too.”
Taylor looked back at him, one brow rising. “How did you know that?”
“Honey, I’m a SEAL, not a hermit. Even we SEALs have been known to read a book on occasion,” he said dryly.
“That’s not what I meant, Jack.”
“Close enough.”
Taylor opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I think I deserved that.”
“Probably.” Jack ran a finger across her lower lip. “But I’m not keeping score. And I would have told you sooner about my background if the choice had been mine.”
Taylor’s answer was cut off by the wail of a siren. She was startled to see lights flashing as a police car bore up on their left. “How fast were you going?”
“Only about five miles over the speed limit.”
Taylor stared back at the Blazer. “You think he’s one of them?”
“Right now, I’m trusting no one.” Jack reached into the glove compartment and set his Beretta on the floor between his feet, positioning it just out of sight. “If something goes wrong, I want you to get behind the wheel and drive like a bat out of hell. Almost is just over that rise, six miles straight east. Even with the Blazer on your tail, you should make it.”
“But—”
“No questions,” he growled. “Promise me you’ll do it.”
After a moment Taylor nodded.
“Good. Now would be a good time to put on your best smile. Praying might not be a bad idea, either. And be ready to get behind the wheel.”
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