Duty to Defend

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  His lips thinned. “If I could argue any further with that logic, I would.”

  “So, you’re in? I’m going to need you to commit your next couple of weekends to come and help move and catalog the items I want to auction. I won’t hire outside help. Too risky.”

  “Too right! What about your siblings? Won’t they want to be part of sorting through things?”

  “Of course. They’ll be there as much as they can. But Nate’s got an impending wedding and a new dentistry practice to think about, Noah could get assigned who-knows-where at any time, and my sisters are nearing finals week at Dartmouth. Their time to pitch in is as limited as yours.”

  “Don’t make assumptions involving my time.” His gaze went stern.

  Daci’s heart fell. If she failed to recruit Jax, how would she pull this off?

  The corners of his lips curled in a smile that could only be called sly. “I have a lot of vacation coming, and I might consider using it for a good cause if...”

  “If what?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “A little quid pro quo. You remain in the hospital to the limits of the doctor’s recommendation, and you wait at least three weeks after your release before attempting to host an auction. In return, I will not only devote my full attention to auction preparations, but I will pick you up from the hospital on the day of your release and personally drive you to Boston. Any PD officers or deputies that want to tag along are welcome to do so, but I won’t rest easy until I see with my own eyes that I’ve gotten you to a place that is as safe as we can make it.”

  Daci opened her mouth, and Jax laid a finger against her lips. The gentle touch sent a delightful tingle down her spine.

  “No argument.”

  “I wasn’t going to argue.” She folded her hands primly in her lap. “I was going to say thank you. There’s a guest wing at the big house that you can commandeer for your own, or a pool house if you prefer.”

  “Sounds good.” He rose to his feet. “Which button do I push to settle this bed down into sleeping position? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “Thank you again, kind sir. Your insult is received in the spirit in which it was given.”

  “Not an insult. A reality check.”

  He was right. Daci managed a weary smile as Jax found the button and lowered the bed. Oh, did it feel good to settle back against her pillow. Her eyelids were weighted with bricks.

  “I’ll be back to check on you this evening.”

  The comforting words followed her toward slumber. At last she could let her mind rest. She and Jax were going to pull this off. No, not just she and Jax. Not even with the help of the law-enforcement team that would need to be involved.

  God, I haven’t been following You like I should, but if You’re listening, then please, for the sake of my grandma, help us make this happen. Help justice to be served. And help Serena and Chase, wherever they are.

  Her mental amen trailed away into the oblivion of sleep.

  Five days later, clad in gentle-waisted leggings and an oversize top, Daci allowed hospital staff to help her into a wheelchair while Jax boxed up the flowers, plants and gifts she’d collected during her stay. A pair of deputies waited outside the door to escort them down to Jax’s vehicle. Settling into the chair, she released the breath she’d been holding against the pain of movement. The wound in her side had healed significantly, but the doctor had been right about the bruising in her abdomen. Even taking a deep breath could shoot pangs through her.

  Maybe she wasn’t up to this auction thing. She glanced at Jax, standing ready at the door. No way could she voice her doubts. He’d already gotten the time off, and had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure his cases were being handled properly in his absence. Ready or not, she had to be all in.

  “Ready?” he asked with a smile, as if he’d heard her thoughts.

  “As I’ll ever be.” She grinned back. Might as well put a good face on it.

  Soon she was installed in the cushy passenger seat of a new-smelling Audi RS7, her purse snuggled next to her for easy access. As they left the hospital parking lot, a marked PD car in the lead and an unmarked Marshals Service heavy-duty pickup in the rear, she ran her hand over the leather seat.

  “You traded in your Malibu.”

  His gaze scanning the road and surrounding environment, Jax nodded. “This operation called for something with superb handling and a whole lot more get-up-and-go.”

  “I see,” she said. “While lolling around in bed, I finally had the opportunity to look you up on my laptop.” She hesitated. This wasn’t the time to bring up certain things she’d found out—the things that had hurt him so badly—so she chose another topic. “Why didn’t you tell me your family comes from old money, also?”

  He shrugged, never taking his eyes from the road. “Didn’t seem relevant. Neither of us cares about the power and status money can bring, though it sure did come in handy when I bought this vehicle.” He chuckled and patted his steering wheel. “I imagine a generation or two ago, my bunch would have been considered parvenus by your bunch. Sam Walton types with humble beginnings, who hauled themselves up by the bootstraps through blue-collar industry.”

  Daci grinning. “You’re probably right about our forefathers, but I respect that you work because you want to benefit society, not just because you have to make a living.”

  “Ditto. I’ve seen grit and integrity in you since the day we met.”

  Daci’s insides turned to gooey mush. A vision of his firm lips on hers flitted through her head, stirring her pulse. Honestly, this being-wounded business had turned her into a complete basket case.

  Blinking away fantasies, she gazed around, taking in the passing environment. Offices, hotels, restaurants and businesses whizzed by on both sides. They were on I-291 heading north toward I-90. All vehicle behavior in their vicinity appeared normal and nonthreatening.

  “No sign of Serena and Chase?” she asked. “Or Naylor?”

  With her whacked-out emotions, it was safer to talk about business.

  “Afraid not. No more Naylor sightings, and as for Serena and Chase, the trail stops cold at the convenience store.” Their vehicle with escort merged onto I-90. “Why don’t you put that seat back and grab a little shut-eye. Should be smooth sailing from here to Boston.”

  He must have noticed how her eyelids kept drooping. Unbelievable how weak she was. She had to regain her strength, and the best route to that goal seemed to be plenty of rest.

  Moments after she closed her eyes, a sharp rat-a-tat-tat jerked her awake. Her eyes sprang open. It hadn’t been moments. At least an hour and a half had passed. The Boston skyline filled her gaze. Checking the rearview mirror, she took in the Marshals Service vehicle behind them fishtailing and falling back. Her eyes widened and her heart stalled.

  In the lane on the driver’s side of the Audi, an armored Humvee roared toward them, an automatic weapon clearly visible in the passenger’s arms.

  * * *

  Jax’s grip throttled the steering wheel. They were under attack on a busy interstate, and their rear guard was already disabled. The RS7ꞌs 560-horsepower, twin-turbocharged V8 engine had better show its worth pronto. He rammed the gas pedal, whipping into the next lane away from the Humvee, and sped past the marked police car as if it were standing still. In his side-view mirror, he noted the police car’s lights come on. No doubt the officers had notified HQ of the attack in progress. They could count on backup. But how soon? There was no time to wait around for reinforcements to arrive.

  “Tighten your seat belt, Daci. Pardon my sarcasm, but this could get way more than fun.”

  With one hand guiding his vehicle’s sprint away from danger, he stuck the other hand under his jacket and pulled out his pistol. He deposited the weapon in the cup holder, muzzle down for quick access, then returned to driving with both hands. Ou
t of the corner of his eye, he caught his passenger’s movements as Daci reach into her purse and come out with her service pistol. Drawing the heavy weapon to herself, she gasped and winced in obvious pain.

  “Whoa! You’re not strong enough to think about pulling the trigger.”

  “Needs must,” she said, and laid the gun across her lap.

  Jax scowled and concentrated on putting distance between them and the Humvee. Strange that the attacker’s vehicle wasn’t speeding up to follow them, but staying with the police car. A recurring pop-pop-pop indicated an exchange of gunfire.

  Or maybe not so strange.

  They were in the farthest right lane of the freeway, coming up on an entrance ramp. Merging toward them roared a second Humvee. No need to guess whether the occupants were armed to the teeth.

  In a split second, he checked his rearview mirror. Because of the firefight behind them, his freeway lane was clear to at least fifty yards back. He rammed down on the brake pedal. Brakes squealed, rubber burned, but the RS7 responded like a champ. His body slammed against his seat belt. Daci screamed, and Jax’s heart squeezed in on itself, knowing the pain the move must have caused her. But he couldn’t bring himself to truly regret it.

  Better a moment of pain than sudden death.

  The Humvee’s momentum barreled it onto the freeway ahead of them. Gunfire burst from occupants in the monster vehicle’s back seat, but the bullets merely shot sparks from the tarmac in front of the Audi’s nose. So far, so good. The tactic must have disoriented the Humvee’s driver because the vehicle wavered back and forth on the road, even crossing partly into the next lane, where the driver of a little hatchback laid on his horn.

  Better fade back, buddy, Jax mentally warned the driver as he pressed the accelerator on the RS7. Only a few yards to go, and they’d grab an exit ramp, taking them off the freeway. The Humvee currently engaging the police officers could potentially take the same exit, but they’d have to be quick about it. The attackers who’d been tricked into point position had already missed the turnoff and were out of the equation. The odds had suddenly improved.

  Jax took the curve onto the exit. Another wave of bullets stitched the rear driver’s side of the RS7. Jax fought the wheel as his peripheral vision caught sight of an attacker leaning out a window of the Humvee to make crazy-angled shots. A moment later, the curve of the exit took them out of range, and he hauled in a ragged breath.

  “We need to take a less obvious route to your estate. How about—”

  “Follow my directions, Jax. I know Boston like the back of my hand, including the most devious ways to get where we’re going. Awesome driving, by the way.”

  He laughed, a giddy sensation flowing through him—whether from the compliment coming from her lips or the relief of being beyond gunshot range. For the moment.

  “Turn left at the light,” she said. “We’ll zigzag through this city like we’re dodging snipers...because we are...and come up on the old Marlowe homestead from the rear.”

  Her voice sounded thin. Jax glanced over at her. She was holding herself stiffly, and her face had lost color. He could ask her if she was in pain, but that would only belabor the obvious. That sudden brake job would have wrenched her bruised insides something fierce.

  Jax returned his gaze to the two-lane road they were on. Small businesses were giving way to moderate-income residences.

  “I think we’ll be okay until we get close to our destination. Rey’s fears about a mole in the Marshals Service are well-founded. Clearly, our hunters knew when the escort was to meet us at the hospital, and they’re going to know exactly where we’re taking you. As we preplanned, deputies and PD officers will be stationed around the perimeter of your estate, but I’m not trusting their locations won’t be known to the bad guys who will also be waiting for us.”

  “Nobody is going to anticipate the way we’ll come in,” Daci said, “but we’ll have to go it on foot a short way.” She shifted in her seat and sucked in a soft breath, then let it out slowly, carefully. “You may have to help me some.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “That mole in the service makes everything so much more complicated.”

  “Maddening that we don’t know who it is. That person has a lot to be accountable for—Liggett Naylor’s escape, betraying you repeatedly to whoever is trying to kill you, and who knows what other cases have been blown by this rat.”

  “Make up your mind, Williams. And, while you’re at it, take a right turn here.”

  “Make up my mind?” Jax shot her a questioning look as he navigated the corner.

  “Exactly what sort of rodent we’re dealing with—a mole or a rat?”

  “Very funny, Marlowe.”

  His heart lifted. Her humor was lame, but at least she was making jokes.

  Daci continued to give him directions, and he continued to obey them, even as he kept a close eye on their surroundings. Every passing vehicle was a potential threat. They wove through some of the most historically rich neighborhoods in Boston, including Beacon Hill, but relaxing and enjoying the tour was not on the agenda—especially when they skirted through a few less-than-savory areas.

  “I’m really bothered that Serena and Chase are still missing,” Daci said. “I’ve been racking my brains for any clue about where they could be, and I just now remembered something she said at lunch before we went to the park.”

  Jax stiffened. “You know where they are?”

  “No, but I have a big, fat clue about who might be the mole in the service.”

  She told him Naylor’s remarks to Serena about having “the system” in his pocket and having “it” on a leash.

  “System? It?” Jax echoed. “I-T!”

  “Bingo!”

  “Randy Lathrop?” Jax let out a whistle under his breath. “Our desk clerk? He’s the only person in the Springfield office that could remotely come under that designation.”

  “Unless the mole is stationed at Boston HQ. I’m leaning in that direction. They have a designated IT person who could access absolutely anything in the system.”

  “You have a point. Call Rey’s cell, and clue him in. He’ll carry the ball from there.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Daci got on the phone, and Jax continued to watch their environment. They were entering an expensive neighborhood where the value of the gated homes ran in the millions. As she talked to their boss, she continued to point Jax this direction and that, weaving them deeper into the heart of affluence. They had to be drawing near the Marlowe estate.

  He slowed the car and kept scanning the area for anything or anyone out of place. Who knew if the middle-aged woman wearing designer workout clothes and walking a coiffured purebred spaniel was an assassin? He held his breath until they passed her. His ears began to pick up the sound of a helicopter in the distance. Not a strange noise in a city where anything from Coast Guard to news, law enforcement or emergency choppers were in the air continually.

  Daci pocketed her phone. “I think we’ve finally managed to make DC Reynolds happy about something,”

  “Happy?”

  “And mad enough to stomp an alligator at the same time. If I’m right and Reynolds can find the proof to back it up then I don’t envy that mole when he catches the person.”

  That deep helicopter whump-whump grew louder, closing in on their location. Jax glanced upward and spotted the bird. For sure, not the Coast Guard. Not law enforcement or emergency services, either. In fact, he could make out no logo on the chopper’s body. Not a good sign. Private helicopters were a lot less common, and this one could well carry enemies.

  “We’ve got company closing in above us.”

  “I hear it,” Daci answered. “We’re almost there. Hang a left and hit the gas. We’re going to ditch the car.”

  “Hop out and make a run for it in the open? An ordinary
skeet shooter could take us out, much less the kind of marksmen we’re dealing with.”

  “Trust me.”

  No question about that. He did.

  They took the turn, and he floored it. Ahead, the road ended in a wall of dense woods. Behind them, the chopper dipped lower and swooped close. A shot rang out, and the rear windshield shattered. Daci yelped.

  “Are you hit?” Jax cried out.

  “Don’t worry about me—keep going straight into the trees!”

  Swallowing his Adam’s apple back into place, Jax did as he was told. They were about to ram a thicket of tall bushes head-on, but risking death by bush beat a sure demise by bullet.

  The Audi’s nose ripped into the foliage. The paint job and undercarriage screamed as branches and twigs ravaged them. They went airborne for a bare second and then landed with a solid thump that tested the suspension system to the max.

  “Whoa!” Jax applied the brakes.

  They were headed down a slope into a ravine on a path barely wide enough for the sporty sedan to avoid sturdy tree trunks on either side. Above them, thick foliage guaranteed the occupants of the helicopter could no longer see them, but the sudden dimness after bright sunshine had Jax running half-blind, as well.

  He needed to get this vehicle stopped before he slammed them head-on into one of these massive, old oak trees, but the rotting leaves on the forest floor were damp and slippery, offering little traction. Even the high-tech brake system on the RS7 was having a hard time gripping and holding. At last they slid to a fishtailing halt inches from the bottom of the ravine, where the Audi’s nose would have bit the dirt, possibly setting off the airbags. Not a good scenario, given Daci’s tender middle.

  Shaking, Jax put the car into Park and looked over at his passenger. A narrow ray of light speared through the leaf canopy and illuminated her bright head. She slumped immobile against the passenger door. Jax’s pulse stalled. Her chest rose and fell in slow breathing, but a trail of blood dripped from her chin onto her shirt. How badly was she hurt? How long would she keep breathing?