“Just do it…. Please,” she added.
Quinn shrugged, handed her his phone and then kept driving.
“Tell me when you get a signal,” he said.
She took the phone. A few minutes later she grabbed at his arm.
“Stop! Right here. There’s a good clear signal.”
Quinn hit the brakes and pulled off onto the shoulder.
Kelly was looking around the area for a landmark on which to base their location when she realized there was a mile marker only a few yards ahead. She got out of the truck. Quinn followed, watching as she punched in a series of numbers.
Then she suddenly sat down on the side of the road, as if her legs would no longer hold her upright. Quinn hurried to her side just in time to hear what she was saying.
“Jen, it’s me. Kelly. Yes, I know. It has been a long time. I miss you, too, but that’s not the reason I called. I need you to do me a favor. Call your daddy. I need help, Jen, and I need it now, or I’m dead.”
Quinn frowned. He couldn’t figure out why the hell she was calling a girlfriend instead of her boss at the DEA.
“Tell him it’s regarding a case for the Federal prosecutor,” Kelly added. “Give him this number, and please, please, tell him to call me right back. I’ll be waiting.”
She rattled off the phone number, then disconnected.
Quinn laid a hand on the back of her neck. She was trembling so hard that he could feel the muscle spasms beneath his fingers.
“Kelly…honey…talk to me. Tell me what you’re doing.”
She looked up at him, weariness etched in every facet of her expression.
“I should never have involved anyone in this. It was my case. My business. It got Daryl killed, and if something doesn’t change, you’ll be next.”
Quinn sighed. “We’ve already been through this. I knew what I was doing from the start, and so did Daryl. But I don’t understand what you’re doing now. Who’s Jen, and why would you ask her father for help?”
Before she could answer, Quinn’s phone rang. She looked down at the caller ID and then answered.
“Hello, Mr. President. Yes, sir, thank you for taking my call.”
Charles Barrett leaned back in his chair in the Oval Office.
“It’s been a while since the college days, hasn’t it, dear? I trust you’re well?”
Kelly sighed. “Only for the moment. That’s why I’m calling. I have a problem.”
President Barrett frowned. “Yes, you do, don’t you, girl? We know about the bounty. I’ve spoken to Michael Forest, as well as Marsh, who’s the prosecutor on the Gruber case. We know what’s happening. How can I help you?”
Kelly bit her lower lip to keep the tremble out of her voice. Back in college, she wouldn’t have thought twice about letting her best friend’s father see her cry. But that was before Charles Allen Barrett had become President of the United States. Now the least she could do was maintain the decorum of an agent of the Federal government.
“I need help. Could you send someone to come get me?”
“Consider it done,” President Barrett said. “Tell me where you are.”
She gave him the coordinates of the highway number and mile marker, as well as the style of vehicle they were in.
“Help will be there within the hour,” Barrett said.
Kelly sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. President. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I do,” Barrett said. “I understand you have plans to testify at the Capitol within the next few days. You would make Helen and I very happy if you would be our houseguest until that time.”
“Sir! In the White House?”
Charles Barrett smiled. “Can you think of a place that’s safer?”
“No, sir.”
“Neither can I,” he said. “And I understand you’ve had a partner of sorts along the way. Please extend the invitation to him, as well.”
“Yes, sir, and thank you, sir,” Kelly said.
“No, Agent Sloan. It’s we who should be thanking you. Now watch the skies. Help will come soon.”
There was a click in Kelly’s ear. She disconnected the call and handed Quinn his phone.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said.
But Quinn was too stunned to move. “Who was that on the phone?”
“You heard me,” she said. “It was President Barrett.”
“He just calls you…like that?”
Kelly shrugged. “His daughter, Jennifer, and I were roommates all through college. She’s my best friend. I’ve stayed at their home many times in the past, but never since the election.”
Quinn sat down beside her and then put his arm around her. She resisted for a moment, then laid her head on his shoulder. Sometimes it felt good to have someone to lean on.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?” Quinn said.
“For everything. Oh, and by the way, we’re staying in the White House until the trial.”
Quinn hugged her and grinned. “You know something, I would have taken a vacation years ago if I’d known it would be like this.”
Kelly tried to laugh, then choked on a sob. She laid her head down on her knees and prayed for this day to be over.
Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty, then twenty-five. They were still sitting on the shoulder of the road when Kelly suddenly looked up.
“They’re here,” she said, and jumped to her feet.
Quinn followed her, trying not to gawk as two helicopters appeared over the trees.
“He sent Blackhawks?”
“Nothing but the best,” Kelly said, and breathed a huge sigh of relief as the first chopper landed and a half-dozen of Uncle Sam’s finest jumped out. Four of them took a defensive stance with rifles drawn, while two others came toward them.
“Agent Sloan?” the first marine asked.
“Yes, and this is Texas Ranger Quinn McCord,” Kelly said.
“Ranger,” the marine said, acknowledging Quinn’s presence with a sharp nod. “If you and Agent Sloan would follow me….”
Quinn started back to the truck to get their bag when the second marine stopped him.
“Sir, we’ll see to your things. They’ll be delivered to your quarters. Just get in the chopper.”
Quinn nodded, then added, “About a half hour’s drive west, you’ll find a red sports car on the side of the road. There are two bodies on the north side, up in the trees.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll take care of it.”
“Appreciated,” Quinn said, and grabbed Kelly’s hand. Moments later they were climbing into the Blackhawk, surrounded by six armed marines, who then got in behind them. But it wasn’t until later, when Kelly saw the dome of the White House below her, that she let herself believe the worst might be over.
The houseman was in the act of serving the first course of Ortega’s dinner when there was a knock on the door. Ortega flinched. The soup spoon he was holding clattered to the floor as he stood abruptly.
The houseman stepped back. “Sir?”
“I am not receiving visitors. Whoever it is, get rid of them,” Ortega ordered.
“Yes, sir,” the man said, and headed for the front door.
Ortega held his breath, listening to the sound of the butler’s receding footsteps, and told himself it didn’t mean anything. There was no way the authorities could know where he was. But then, neither did anyone else, so there should have been no one to come calling at his door.
He could hear voices, but not what was being said. He thought about slipping out the back way, but then where could he go? There was nothing back there but ocean, and even if he were whole and healthy, he could not swim to Mexico. So he waited. It was the wrong thing to do.
Suddenly there were too many footsteps coming back into the dining room to bode well. He glanced about the luxurious room, eyeing the elegant fixtures and the scent of perfectly prepared food, and knew that this lifestyle was over. What he had to consider now was
if he would have a life left to live.
Four men in dark suits entered the dining room ahead of a frantic butler.
“Señor Ortega, I tried to—”
“It’s all right, Emilio. This is none of your concern.”
One of the suits stepped forward. “Dominic Ortega, I’m Agent David Harwell with the FBI. You are under arrest for the attempted murder of DEA agent Kelly Sloan, as well as the murders of Javier Sosa and Mitchell James. You are also being indicted on charges of the sale of illegal substances, racketeering and blackmail. You have the right to an attorney. Should you not be able to afford one, one will be made available to you.”
The agent continued the Miranda Warning, but Ortega had heard it before and blanked it out. His thoughts were focused on Sosa and James, two men who’d made the mistake of getting in his way. It was ironic that he was being charged with those murders only, when there had been so many before and after. And if it hadn’t been for his weak-kneed brother-in-law and the woman who’d put a knife in his chest, he would still be riding the wave. As it was, it was time to focus on what he could do to get out of this. There was still the bounty out on Kelly Sloan, and if his luck held, she would never make it to the courtroom.
8
Never in her wildest dreams would Kelly have imagined herself sleeping in the Lincoln bedroom, let alone with the man who’d stolen her heart. The past three days in the White House had been heaven compared to what she’d endured the month before. But never had she wanted anything to be over as much as she did this trial. Once her testimony went on record, her connection to Ortega and Gruber would be severed. They might hate her guts. They still might want her dead. But it was not going to change their fate. And that was what she was holding on to with all her might. She couldn’t bear to think that she would be a target forever, or that Ortega would want revenge so badly that he would continue the bounty after he was convicted. And yet, because she couldn’t ignore that possibility, she wouldn’t let herself think of a future with Quinn.
President Barrett had been emotionally supportive, and to her knowledge, no one, not even her boss or the prosecutor in charge of Ponce Gruber’s trial, knew where she was. That was something else for which she had the President to thank. She’d been sheltered behind the impenetrable wall of security that protected him on a daily basis, protected without anyone’s knowledge but a special few.
But it would soon be over. She knew Dominic Ortega had been arrested. Today she would appear at his arraignment. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face. It would be all the justice she needed for what she’d endured at his hands.
Two days ago a team from the FBI had gone to her local post office in Maryland, where her mail was being held. They’d confiscated the lot, including a large, paper-wrapped package that she’d sent to herself while still in Mexico. Inside were documented invoices, taped phone calls, and copies of both personal and business correspondence pertaining to Dominic Ortega’s illegal activities. Everything had been turned over to the Federal prosecutor without explanation, other than to say that when the time came, he was to call Kelly Sloan to the stand. The prosecutor had begged for more information. But the agents only knew what they’d been told and repeated their message one more time before leaving him to deal with a box of new evidence.
Within the hour she would be leaving for the Federal courthouse, and it was all she could do to face herself in the mirror. She’d taken on the persona of a biker babe to stay alive, but the need for a disguise was over. The only problem was, she still had a butchered haircut and a limited wardrobe. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?
As she was bemoaning her appearance, Quinn knocked on the bathroom door.
“Kelly…honey…it’s me. Can I come in?”
She ran a brush through her hair again, then groaned in dismay when it spiked back up into short, unruly tufts. The only saving grace was that she’d abandoned the red hair spray that had adorned it before.
“Only if you’re carrying superhold hair spray,” she mumbled.
The door opened. “I’ll go you one better,” Quinn said.
He handed her a half-dozen boxes from an exclusive D.C. boutique.
“For me?”
“Yes, unless you’re hoping I’ll bend my gender. Besides, they’re not my size.”
Kelly laid them all on the bed, then started digging through the boxes. Almond-colored lingerie edged with silky-soft lace spilled out onto the bed, followed by a turquoise pantsuit that was a perfect blend of business and beauty. When Kelly saw the pink and turquoise camisole he’d picked to go under it, she started to grin. The last box held a pair of backless silver sandals with a two-inch heel.
“Oh, Quinn, how did you know?” Kelly said.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t have loved to see you in that black leather again, but I figured the judge would appreciate this a little more.”
Kelly threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you a million times.”
“Not two million?”
She made a face. “That’s real funny, mister. Now stand back. I don’t have much time to get ready, but thanks to you, I’ll look as good as I feel.”
He touched her hair, loving the feel of it beneath his fingers.
“You know…this is starting to grow on me. I’m liking the look.”
Kelly frowned as she combed her fingers through her hair again.
“It looks like I’ve been rolling in the hay.”
Quinn grinned. “Maybe that’s why I like it so much. You’ve got the look of a woman who’s spent the night having mind-blowing sex with the man of her dreams.”
Kelly smirked. “And that would be you, I suppose?”
“I try,” Quinn said. “Now hurry and get dressed. There’s one more box you need to open, but not unless we have the time.”
Kelly’s eyes widened. She looked around for the box, then assumed he’d left it in the hall.
“I’m hurrying,” she said, and started yanking off her robe and trading her Wal-Mart underwear for the delicate lingerie on the bed.
Within minutes she was dressed except for the shoes, which Quinn helped her put on. Then she stepped back and held out her arms.
“How do I look?”
The smile slid off Quinn’s face as he looked at the woman who’d stolen his heart.
“Like an avenging angel,” he said softly.
Kelly knew he was thinking about Daryl, and about everything that she’d gone through.
“I wish Daryl could be here to see this,” she said.
“He’s here in spirit. That will suffice,” Quinn said, and then glanced at his watch. “With just enough time to spare.”
“For what?” Kelly asked.
He pulled a small box out of his pocket, hesitated briefly, then handed it to her.
“This is for you, too, but only if you think it’s right.”
Kelly took a deep breath. There was only one thing that came in a small black velvet box like this. She looked up at Quinn, unaware that all the love she felt for him was there on her face. Her hands were shaking as she opened the box. The solitaire glittered as it caught the fire from the overhead lighting.
“Oh, Quinn,” Kelly whispered.
“I love you,” he said. “We’ve never said the words, and you don’t have to say them back. And I’m not asking you to quit what you do, because part of what I love about you is the woman who saved herself and then saved me, too. But I am asking you to marry me. Whenever you can…whenever you’re ready.”
Kelly handed him the box. “Put this on me,” she said. “Then ask me again when this mess is over.”
Quinn’s heart skipped a beat. “Is this a sort-of yes?”
“No. It’s a definite yes, with a rider as to when it will happen.”
Quinn slid the ring on her finger, then took her in his arms.
“You make me weak,” he whispered, and held her close to his chest.
“And you make me crazy,” K
elly said. “Crazy in love.”
Before Quinn could answer, there was a knock on the door.
“It’s time,” she said, and then stepped out of his embrace. She held out her hand, and he took it. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. “I’ve got a life to live, and I’d like to finish it with you.”
Dominic Ortega looked like he’d stepped out of a men’s magazine. His summer gray suit and pale yellow shirt were impeccably tailored to fit his short, stocky frame, giving it an air of elegance that he sorely needed to play the part of an innocent man. His dark hair had been cut close to his head, lying against his scalp like a thick black cap. He kept fiddling with the collar of his shirt, checking and then rechecking to make sure his tie was perfectly centered. His lawyer glanced at him, then frowned at the nervousness of his gestures. Ortega quickly dropped his hands into his lap. He didn’t want to telegraph anxiety in any way.
“Just relax, Dominic. We’ve got it covered,” his lawyer said.
Ortega nodded, then smoothed down his hair, making sure it lay neatly, and leaned back in the chair. Moments later the court clerk came in, announced the arrival of the judge, and the proceedings began.
The give and take of legalities always left Dominic feeling as if he were out in left field. He heard the words but didn’t always understand what they meant. He hated the Americans and their English-speaking courts. Everything was always so long and drawn out. It was his personal opinion that Americans should take a leaf out of Mexico’s book of justice. If enough money was spent in the right place, a powerful man could always count on the judgment he desired. And right now, he desired these charges to be dismissed. And while he hadn’t heard anything concrete about the hunt for Kelly Sloan, he felt certain that someone surely had her body and was waiting to claim the bounty. Once that happened, his troubles would be over.
And then the prosecutor said a name that made Ortega sit up. He stared at his lawyer, who was turning pale.
“What?” he whispered. “What did he just say?”
“They’ve called Kelly Sloan.”
“She can’t be here,” Ortega muttered. “She’s got to be dead.”
On the Edge Page 31