by J. B. Lynn
I don't know how long I crawled like that, rocks and pebbles digging into my knees, shoulders aching from the strain of trying to remain upright. I was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, when I finally fell over at the top of a hill. I rolled down it, unable to prevent my descent.
I didn't stop until I reached the bottom. I lay there, my cheek pressed to the ground, listening to a distant roar. At first I'd thought the noise was the sound of road traffic, which is why I'd crept in its direction. It wasn't until I'd gone as far as my battered body would take me that I realized that what I heard wasn't traffic but running water.
I hadn't gone toward people who might be able to save me. I'd managed to just get myself deeper into the middle of nowhere. I searched the horizon, looking for a cell phone tower or power lines but saw none.
I closed my eyes and allowed the tears I'd been trying to hold back leak out. "I don't want to die out here," I sobbed.
"Can't say I blame you," Marcus Fontaine replied.
Startled, I yelped. Blinking away my tears, I stared up at him. The sun was behind him, so I couldn't make out his expression, but he looked solid. "Are you dead?"
He chuckled. "Not yet."
I heaved a giant sigh of relief. I wasn't going to die after all. I struggled back into a kneeling position. "You've got to warn Smoke!"
"About what?"
"They think Lacey told him something…someone's name, but she didn't. At least I don't think she did. But you have to tell him, before they hurt him."
"Nobody's going to hurt Smoke," Marcus soothed. "He's too valuable."
"Valuable?" I squinted up at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
"Someone's going to have to take the blame for your disappearance."
He delivered the words in such a mild tone that it took me a moment to realize he was delivering my death sentence. "You? He trusts you."
A harsh, grating sound that was supposed to pass for a laugh filled the air. "No. He said it last night. He trusted me…past tense. Pick her up."
Felipe and Sal emerged from behind him. Sal grabbed the collar of my shirt and hauled me roughly to my feet.
I didn't even think about it. I just dropped my head and bit his hand as hard as I could. Chomping down on a human hand is disgusting. You can feel flesh slide, tendons resist, and bones crack.
"Ahhhh!" Sal screamed, punching my forehead and knocking me to the ground.
I tasted blood, but didn't know if it was his or mine.
"You bitch!" he yelled, kicking at me.
His foot made contact with my rib cage, and I doubled over in pain, gasping for breath.
"I'm going to kill you!" He kicked at me again, but I managed to turn away so that most of the force of the blow glanced off my back.
Felipe pushed him away from me. "Boss wants her alive."
Sal fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a gun, and stuck it in the other man's face.
"Easy, amigo," Felipe said, stepping back, his hands raised in surrender.
"Enough!" Marcus roared. His cell phone buzzed, but he made no move to answer it.
Grudgingly, Sal lowered his weapon. "She bit me!"
"Your own fault for getting sloppy," Marcus admonished. "Our Mexican friend is right. We need her alive…for now."
I didn't find that comforting. "I'm not helping you!" I gasped.
He pulled out his phone and smiled at whatever he saw on the display. "You already have, my dear." Marcus looked at Sal's bleeding hand with disgust. "Go get yourself cleaned up."
"I'll take care of the woman," Felipe announced.
Marcus and Sal walked away. When they'd disappeared over the crest of the hill, Felipe stepped behind me.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked. "Can you walk?"
I didn't answer him.
"Listen to me carefully, Miss Spring," he whispered in my ear.
I shivered as I heard the click and hiss of his switchblade opening.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"You're going to kill me painlessly?" I asked. Considering how my side was throbbing from Sal's attack, the idea of a quick death held a certain appeal.
"I'm trying to keep you alive. Do you think you're strong enough to make a run for it?"
I turned to look at him. He appeared to be serious. "I don't understand."
He bent down and cut the plastic straps that bound my feet.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, as he sawed at the strap that held my hands.
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
Rubbing my freed wrists, I turned to look at him. "I don't understand."
"I tried to scare you off at your place for your own well-being. I knew they were watching you…worried about what—"
"Wait," I interrupted. "Who are you?"
"We have to run. Now." Grabbing my arm, he hustled me away from the hill. "I'm with the DEA. I've been undercover for a while, trying to figure out who's in charge of one of the local meth distribution rings."
"And you figured out the cops were in on it?" I asked breathlessly. I really needed to lay off the pizza. We hadn't run very far, and I was already winded.
"But I couldn't figure out who the top guys were."
"I don't understand what this has to do with me."
"Those frat boys saw a dealer murdered."
"At O'Hara's?"
"Yes. Whoever they saw panicked and ordered them killed."
"And you didn't warn them?" I gasped.
"I didn't find out about it until it was too late."
As though he'd sensed he was being discussed, Martin suddenly appeared before me, shimmering in the sunlight. His appearance startled me so badly that I tripped over a tree root, I fell to my knees, crying out, as my abraded knees were torn up more.
Felipe yanked me to my feet. "We have to keep moving."
"Where are we going?" I stumbled alongside his smooth strides and watched Martin lope along beside us.
"Our best chance to escape is to cross the river."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"C'mon." He tugged on my arm.
I didn't move.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't swim." Not only could I not swim, but I was terrified of water, absolutely petrified.
"You can't stay here," Felipe said. "By now they'll know we're gone. They're looking for us."
As though to prove his point, a shot rang out. It ricocheted off the ground a few yards behind us.
Looking back, I saw Marcus and Sal running toward us, guns drawn.
Martin made a desperate shooing motion at me.
"Run!" Felipe urged.
I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted away as fast as my legs could take me. Felipe led the way, weaving between trees and leaping over fallen branches. I was right on his heels. I didn't even look back to see what Martin was up to.
Another shot bounced off the trunk of a nearby tree.
"We're almost there," Felipe cried.
Like I needed him to tell me that. The roar of the rushing water was drowning out my heartbeat which was pounding in my ears.
Felipe splashed into the water without hesitation, but the second my toes got wet, I stopped.
"I'll help you!" he said, holding out a hand.
Screwing up my courage, I reached for him.
Just as our hands touched, he pitched forward, landing face-first in the water.
I tried to help him up, but even with the buoyancy of the water, he was a dead weight. Suddenly it felt as though I was holding a giant Popsicle. Instinctively I jumped away, dropping him.
That's when I saw the blood soaking his shirt. It took me a long moment to figure out he'd been shot in the back. I heard Marcus and Sal crashing up behind me, but I looked across the river to where I imagined Felipe's shooter must be.
Sure enough, a man stood there, weapon drawn. I knew his face well.
I'd almost gone out for coffee with him.
Detective Alan Reed shouted something at
me, but I couldn't make it out over the roar of the river. Not that it mattered. The gun trained at me was a pretty clear message.
I raised my hands in surrender.
Something hit my side. The impact knocked me off my feet. I fell into the cold, rushing water, my hands burrowing into the silty sand.
Popping sounds, like impotent firecrackers echoed through the air. Gunshots!
"Run!" a voice urged.
Scrambling on all fours, I pulled myself out of the water. I glanced back in Alan's direction. He was no longer pointing his gun at me. He was crouched at the water's edge, firing at someone on his side of the river.
I was so busy watching him that I didn't see the obstacle in my path. I tripped and face-planted right into Sal's chest. Before I could push away, he grabbed my hair.
"Gothchya, bitch!" he crowed triumphantly.
Remembering Jerry's long-ago delivered advice, I did exactly what my big brother had told me to do if I ever ended up being manhandled. I punched the guy in the crotch as hard as I could.
The blow had its desired effect. Howling with pain, Sal released me.
I rolled away and got to my feet.
And found myself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
"At first I didn't see why Smoke liked you so much, Miss Spring." Marcus Fontaine kept his gun trained on me. "But now I get it. It's got to be that combination of vulnerability and ballsiness. Stand up, please. Slowly."
I did as he asked, swaying unsteadily on my feet.
"Shoot the bitch!" Sal urged.
"Shut up," Marcus said.
I glanced over and found Sal still on the ground, doubled-over. I also saw his shoulder was bleeding. I wondered how he'd gotten hurt.
"I mean it. Just pull the trigger," Sal whined.
"As you wish," Marcus replied.
I whipped my gaze back toward him, just in time to see him shoot.
But he didn't shoot me. He put a bullet in Sal. Smack in the middle of his forehead, which made "Buck's brother" look like a warped version of a Cyclops.
I covered my mouth to stifle a scream.
"It's so difficult to find decent henchmen," Fontaine complained, swinging the muzzle of the gun back in my direction.
I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Martin popped up in front of him, holding up his pointer finger. I really wasn't in the mood to play his brand of charades.
"Poor Lacey spent all that time trying to get into Smoke's bed, and you did it in what? Under a week?"
I considered not responding, but I figured the longer I kept Fontaine talking the longer I'd live, and maybe I'd be able to figure out what Martin was trying to tell me. "I'm not sleeping with him."
Martin nodded encouragingly.
"I've known Smoke for close to ten years, and I never saw him kiss a woman before last night," Fontaine replied.
"Maybe he's gay."
Fontaine chuckled. "No way. Poor guy has the hots for you. Which is too bad. It's gonna get his ass thrown in jail for a long time. My bosses framed him once. They'll do a better job this time."
"So this had to do with me?" I asked. "It wasn't about him, like you implied last night?"
"You were the one who found the memory card from the camera. You were the one who asked DiNunzio about O'Hara's."
Shocked, I gasped, "Tom's involved in this too?"
Fontaine chuckled. "No, but he was all bent out of shape when he thought we were throwing clean up jobs your way. He told me all about your phone call with him. The jerk had no idea he was signing your death warrant."
Oddly, that made me feel marginally better. "You attacked me in the kitchen?"
"Another instance of you being somewhere you weren't supposed to be. My man saw you start your lunch break and figured he had time to do a quick search of the house, but then you came barging in. He wasn't sure how close behind you Smoke was, so he took off."
"So Smoke wasn't responsible for anything that happened." I muttered. That made me feel a lot better.
"We didn't slash your tires. That's on him."
Confused, I said, "He couldn't have. He was with me when it happened."
"Not him. That woman did it."
It took me a second to puzzle out who he could be talking about. "Shirley?"
"Lacey watched her do it."
Martin motioned for me to draw the conversation out and then disappeared.
"So Lacey was working with you?" I asked Fontaine.
Fontaine nodded. "For years. She did a good job reporting on Smoke's investigations. Unfortunately for him, he got too close to some things my superiors wanted to keep under wraps, so he had to go. She wasn't too happy about framing him. I got the impression she'd fallen for him, or maybe she was frustrated that she never fulfilled the challenge of bedding him."
He raised the gun so that it was pointed between my eyes.
I swallowed hard.
"But you were on to her," Fontaine raised his voice. "Weren't you, Smoke?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure approaching.
"It's over, Marcus."
Smoke's gravelly voice made my knees go weak with relief. Maybe I wasn't about to die after all.
As though he read my mind, Fontaine jammed the cold, metal into my forehead. The pain made stars dance inside my eyelids.
"Don't!" Smoke yelled.
"You really have it bad for her, don't you?" Fontaine asked conversationally. "Drop your gun or I'll blow your girlfriend's brains out."
"Told you last night. She's not my girlfriend. She's my boss."
"You never kissed me when I was your boss," Fontaine quipped.
"I wasn't kissing her," Smoke said in a hard voice. "I was getting her to shut the hell up."
Uncertainty flickered in Fontaine's gaze.
"It's true," I said.
"Bullshit!" Fontaine didn't sound so smooth, now that he realized he didn't know everything.
"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," another male voice said.
Forgetting that there was a gun to my head, I turned to see who the voice belonged to. Cusak, soaking wet, as though he'd swum across the river, stood a pace behind Smoke, holding a gun on him.
"Not yet!" Marcus said sharply.
"Why not?" Cusak demanded. "No way we can let him live now. He's seen too much."
"Is that why you killed Juliet Rota?" I blurted out.
Cusak's gaze swung over to me. "How the hell do you know about that?"
Marcus moved so that he was standing behind me. "Ditch your weapon, Smoke, or I promise you that after Cusak kills you, I'll let him have his fun with your girlfriend here."
Smoke slowly lowered his arm and dropped his gun.
"I'm sorry," I mouthed at him.
"You really need to learn when to keep your mouth shut," he said.
"Speaking of which," Marcus said, pressing his gun into my back. "What was it Smoke didn't want you to say in front of me last night?"
I looked to Smoke for guidance. He shook his head.
I said nothing.
I could guess what he was thinking. That without him, Uncle Bernie was the only person who might watch over Halley. Except for Angel.
Grabbing my hair, Fontaine yanked my head backward. "Tell me."
My scalp stung and tears filled my eyes. I gritted my teeth against the pain, "Go to hell."
Smoke lunged forward, but Cusak hit the back of his head with the butt of his gun. Smoke fell, stunned, but didn't lose consciousness. He swayed dizzily on his hands and knees.
"Tell me!" Marcus demanded.
"Smoke!" Angel appeared at her brother's side.
My heart broke as I watched her kiss his shaved skull.
"You shouldn't be here," I told her.
She turned to look at me. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"You should go," I urged the little girl. Dead or not, she shouldn't see her own brother killed.
"You're a fucking lunatic,
lady!" Cusak shouted, obviously thinking I was talking to him.
The space between us shimmered, as Lacey suddenly showed up. She looked from Cusak to Smoke assessing the situation.
"Tell him I'm here, Vicky" Angel pleaded. "He needs to know he's not alone."
"Smoke!" I called, trying to get his attention.
His blue gaze was cloudy when it settled on me.
"Shut up!" Marcus tried to imbed the muzzle of his gun in the side of my head.
Ignoring the pain, I struggled to deliver Angel's message, even if it was the last thing I did. "It's cold."
Smoke stared blankly at me.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you? It's really, really cold."
Realization dawned over his features. He nodded.
Angel smiled.
And all hell broke loose.
A giant chill washed over me, and I shuddered uncontrollably. Fontaine did too, which dislodged his gun from my temple.
Pulling away from him, I turned to see that Martin had grabbed Fontaine from behind and was trying to choke the life out of him, much like Lacey had done to me the night before. Whirling back toward Smoke, I saw Cusak taking aim at him.
"Look out!" I screamed.
Before he could get off a shot, Lacey threw herself at him. She was able to bat away his arm just as he squeezed the trigger. The shot missed Smoke by inches. He tackled Cusak to the ground and they struggled for his gun.
Angel screamed.
I leapt toward Smoke and Cusak, but fell to the ground as a searing pain lanced through my side. Instinctively I covered the pain with my hand and found it to be warm and sticky. I pulled it away and saw that my fingers were covered with blood.
I looked back at Fontaine and Martin. Despite the ghost's efforts, Fontaine was trying to point his gun at me.
"US Marshall, drop your weapon!" A voice boomed from behind Smoke and Cusak.
Shots were fired, and when I looked back, Smoke was slumped on the ground.
"NO!" I screamed.
A bullet whistled past my ear. I didn't know whether it was from Fontaine or the unseen Marshall.
"Run!" another voice urged, close to my ear.
So I did.
I ran back to the river. All my life I'd been terrified of its current, but now, without thinking, I stumbled into it. Desperate to get away from the madness on land, I almost let myself get swept away, but self-preservation had me hugging the shoreline.