by Penny McCall
CONN’S SHOWER THE NEXT MORNING CONSISTING, as it did, of hot water, slippery soap, and a lot of naked redhead, was going down as one of the truly amazing memories of his life, old or new. It appeared it would be the last of its kind, at least with Rae Blissfield.
She hadn’t looked at him once since they’d left the bath, dressing in silence and adding their new things to the small bag she’d brought from her home. He knew she was wrung out, tired from the lack of sleep and wincing every now and then from overused muscles. He felt the same, but he couldn’t regret the night they’d shared. And he’d be damned if he let her.
He crossed the room and lifted her chin until their eyes met. “You are not this woman. Embarrassed—” He touched her hair, back up in an ugly bun. “—closed off.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” But she brushed his hand away, her cheeks heating as she turned back to her packing. “Not exactly. It’s just . . . Last night . . . I’ve never been with anyone like that, or been like that with anyone, before.”
Conn wrapped her in his arms, laughing a little, but wanting her again, impossibly. “I’ve never, either.”
Rae pulled back enough to look up at him, half hopeful.
“I don’t need my memory back to know it.”
She smiled, brighter than the sun and incredibly sweet. “I wish we could stay here awhile longer.”
Conn looked around the room. “This is only a place. This,” he rested his hand over her heart, “is where you live.”
She went quiet, wistful, and when she lifted her face to his again, he could tell she was troubled.
“What is it?”
“Last night . . . You have some scars. Quite a few, actually, little round ones.” Her hand slipped over his T-shirt, pausing when she said, “Here and here. Does it have anything to do with the dreams? No, don’t shrug this off, Conn.”
He wanted to do just that, but even if he could have refused her, the time had come to face the unpleasant. “In the dreams, it’s night, but there is a lot of flashing light and noise—”
“Gunfire?”
“It’s constant, a thunder that never stops. And there are men dressed in trousers and shirts, all black, and they wear heavy boots, or sometimes they wear clothing in shades of tan and brown, like sand—”
“Uniforms,” Rae said. “They are soldiers. It’s a war you’re seeing, although there’s no way to know which one. It sounds like more than one, all jumbled up in your memory.”
Conn sank into a chair because he needed to sit for a moment, and because he didn’t want her to see it, he bent to put on his shoes. He should have known the pretense was futile.
“Are you dizzy?”
He shook his head, the muddled feeling going away because denying its existence to Rae was enough to chase it off. Still, the reassuring smile he attempted fell short. “If I was dizzy, it would be from lack of food after so much . . . exertion.”
“Conn—”
He stood. “It cannot be forced.”
She took the hand he held out; he collected the bag from the bed.
“Let’s go break our fast,” he said, his stomach growling.
“Maybe we should call ahead,” she teased, “and make sure there’s enough food for the rest of the island.”
“IT’S WARMER TODAY,” CONN SAID WHEN THEY stepped out onto the wide drive behind the hotel.
The sun shone, bright in the sky and almost blinding off the water. There wasn’t a cloud overhead, just the one they’d be walking into. “They’ll be waiting for us when we get off the ferry,” Rae said.
“They will.”
A carriage pulled up to take them to the docks, compliments of the Grand Hotel. The driver climbed down from the front seat and collected their bag from Conn. “I’m Eddie,” he said, taking it behind the carriage. He’d just finished securing it when they heard a commotion coming from the stable not far away.
Eddie stared in that direction, then took off running. Rae looked at Conn, and they came to the same conclusion. Conn handed her into the front seat of the carriage, then raced around to jump into the other side, taking up the reins as three or four horses came out of the stable and bolted in different directions. The stable hands came out behind them . . . Okay, not all of them worked for the hotel.
“Harry, Joe, and Kemp,” Rae said, watching them struggle with a horse apiece. Harry and Joe managed to get on board. Kemp’s horse was too much for him. It took off, dragging Kemp a dozen yards before he let go of the reins and windmilled to a stop in a graceless heap.
“Even the Three Stooges could do better than that,” Rae said, snorting out a laugh when Joe listed to the side and sort of flopped out of the saddle.
Harry wasn’t having as much trouble. Harry was actually catching up with them. Joe was climbing back on his horse, too.
“Go,” Rae said to Conn, keeping her eyes on the bad guys, especially Kemp, who climbed to his feet, took one look at Harry and Joe still arguing with their mounts, and headed for a bicycle rack outside the hotel’s rear entrance.
“I should know how to do this,” Conn said.
That got her attention. She turned forward, took one look at Conn, staring at the leather straps in his hands and looking clueless, and rolled her eyes. “Hand them over,” she said, “and push that forward.” She pointed at the brake lever on Conn’s left. Once he’d disengaged the brake she snapped the reins to slap the horses on the butts and get them into motion.
“How?” Conn asked as the carriage jerked forward, then settled into a smooth roll.
“With my childhood?” Rae glanced over at him, smiling slightly. “I can also dance the Scottish Sword Dance, read palms, and juggle.”
“Can you make this thing go faster? And why are we going downhill?”
“The horses are used to walking,” Rae said, snapping the reins again to no avail. Except one of the horses turned its head and gave her a dirty look. “And we’re going downhill because just about everything is downhill from the Grand Hotel, including our only way off the island. Plus I thought it would be easier for the horses.”
“They have horses, too,” Conn pointed out, “and theirs aren’t pulling all this weight.”
“You’d better be talking about the carriage.”
Conn gave her a look, not seeing the humor in the situation. Especially when Kemp and his bicycle passed them.
“He’s heading to the docks to cut us off,” Rae said. “Any ideas?”
“They won’t try anything as long as we’re in town, surrounded by witnesses.”
“And after that?”
“There were maps in the lobby,” Conn said. “I looked at them.”
“Those were historical, not current. And you didn’t study them.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”
“Great, you can’t remember anything about yourself, but I’m supposed to believe you took one glance at a map of Mackinac Island and memorized the layout. A historical map, no less. It was probably a century old.”
“Not much has changed here in a hundred years’ time.”
“The forgetful leading the ignorant.” She blew out a breath. “Lead on, Bourne.”
Conn didn’t roll his eyes, but she could tell he wanted to. “Continue through town,” he said.
“Maybe we should rethink the route through town. All those innocent bystanders.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
The coach lurched and a voice said, “I do. Pull over and get out.”
Rae glanced over her shoulder and saw Eddie, who was just a kid really, probably not more than eighteen years old, in the backseat. “Where did you come from?”
He snorted. “An old lady with a walker could catch this thing. You’re going like, two miles an hour, so I jumped in.”
“Then you won’t have any trouble jumping back out,” Conn said.
“No way. These guys are my responsibility.”
The horses seemed to perk up at the sound of his voice. The
ir pace definitely picked up. Slightly.
“We promise not to hurt the horses,” Conn said. “Get out.”
Rae had to give the kid credit. He went dead white the second Conn looked at him, but he reached over the backseat, grabbed something Rae couldn’t see, and tried to hit Conn over the head with it.
Conn blocked the blow and tried to shove him out of the carriage.
“Wait! He can help us.”
Conn had Eddie by the front of his shirt, ready to toss him overboard. He held on for another half minute, then said, “Sit down and behave,” letting go with enough of a shove to have the kid hitting the back of the seat with a little oomph. “The next person who hits me over the head is going to die,” he said to Rae when he settled back into his seat.
“Okay, but he can tell us where we can lose Harry and Joe.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said, sounding sullen, “I can tell you how to lose those other guys. But why would I want to?”
“Because those guys want to kill us, and they’re not cops.”
“How do I know that? They’re not even trying to catch up. Hell, I’m not even sure they’re following us.”
He had a point since Harry and Joe were keeping their horses to a sedate walk. They even managed to look innocent—well, Harry managed it. Joe looked a little panicked.
“Everyone heads into town,” the kid was saying, “and the Hulk up there in the front seat doesn’t strike me as a good guy. I mean, he did steal my coach.”
“Cops introduce themselves with badges,” Rae said. “Cops would knock on the door of our room, or wait for us at the ferry and arrest us. They wouldn’t steal horses and engage in hot pursuit.”
“Hot pursuit? This is more like directional coincidence.” There was a moment of silence, all of them conceding Eddie’s point. Then he said, “Do you guys have badges?”
“No,” Rae began.
Conn took over. “You don’t have much choice but to trust us, kid. We haven’t tried to hurt you—”
“Except the part where you wanted to toss me from a moving vehicle.”
“You tried to hit me over the head,” Conn said through clenched teeth.
“Look, Eddie, I know they don’t seem dangerous,” Rae said, sending Conn a warning look. “They won’t try anything as long as we’re in town.”
“No witnesses.”
“Exactly, but the minute we stop we’re in trouble. And since you’re with us, and they won’t know what we said to you, you’re not safe, either.”
“I’m just an innocent bystander.”
“I believe you, but what do you think your chances of convincing them are?”
Eddie looked over his shoulder.
“You’re a witness now, and you know what happens to witnesses in the movies.”
“Not really.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to find out firsthand. Help us get away, they’ll follow us, and you’ll be safe.”
“There’s no way we’re going to lose them in this,” Eddie said. “And we’re running out of town. That cross street up ahead is it.”
Rae peered ahead and saw the street he was talking about, nothing but woods on the other side.
“Where does that road going off at a right angle lead?” Conn asked.
“Fort Mackinac, then around the hotel golf course and into the state park. There’s another golf course there, and the airport.”
“Airport?”
“Yeah, the island has a small airport, but it’s all uphill from here. Hey, I have an idea.” Eddie pulled out a cell phone and started texting, talking at the same time, which was pretty good since multi-tasking was a skill Rae would have sworn he didn’t possess. Then again, he’d exceeded all her expectations in their short acquaintance. “Take a left when you get to the dead end,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. My friends can ride circles around these guys.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring more . . . Okay,” she said when a couple horses appeared out of nowhere.
“They were riding in the park,” Eddie explained. He half stood, gesticulating wildly at the horses behind the carriage.
The horses moved in between them and their pursuers.
Harry took out a gun and pointed it at them.
Eddie’s friends bolted, not that anyone could blame them, and Eddie slid down in the seat so nothing was visible but the tips of his gelled hair. “That would have worked without the gun.”
“That’s it,” Conn said, climbing into the backseat. “Keep your head down,” he said to Rae, “and you get on the floor.”
Eddie didn’t have to be told twice. Rae was having a little trouble with his instructions since it was hard to guide the horses without being able to see where they were going.
Harry and Joe were getting impatient, too, now that they’d left the potential for harming innocent tourists behind them. And it wasn’t just Harry. Joe was armed this time, too, but it was Harry who fired and missed as Conn climbed onto the back of the carriage. Conn chose his moment and jumped, swiping Joe completely off his horse but only hitting Harry hard enough to knock him sideways. His gun went off again, but Harry was already listing badly to his right. He made it another fifty yards or so before gravity won.
Harry flopped onto the grass at the side of the road, but he didn’t stay down, springing to his feet and squeezing off another shot. He scared his horse and Joe’s away but the shot missed Conn and everyone in the carriage because Conn ran off at an angle, zigzagging to confound Harry’s aim, circling back around to the road when he was sure he was out of gunshot range.
Rae had stopped the carriage not far in front of him, and when he got in she pointed to a bullet hole in the side of it, not six inches from her head.
Conn went cold, but he hid it. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “they grazed me.”
“What!”
He stuck his finger through a hole in the leg of his pants, about mid-thigh. “Just caught me enough to leave a welt.”
“Well,” Rae said, “at least they didn’t hit you in the head.”
Conn looked over his shoulder and saw Harry coming. Somehow he’d caught one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, exhaling heavily, “there’s still time.”
chapter 16
“TWO DOWN, ONE TO GO,” RAE SAID, SETTING THE carriage in motion.
“But he’s the one with the gun,” Eddie observed.
Conn didn’t say anything. He was busy thinking of a way out of this mess, and coming to only one conclusion.
“Airport,” he finally said. “Get there fast.”
“Tell it to the horses,” Rae said.
“You just have to know what you’re doing.” Eddie stood up, and when they didn’t get the hint, he said, “Let me drive.”
Since Eddie was in her way, Rae slid over into Conn’s lap. As much as Conn enjoyed that, he couldn’t afford the distraction. He eased out from underneath her and plopped her into the front seat he’d vacated, climbing into the back so he could stay between her and Harry in case Harry decided to take potshots at them again.
Eddie coaxed his equine friends into a gentle gallop. Harry, listing from side to side on his reluctant mount, fell behind. By the time he caught up they were at the airport, and Conn was already boosting Rae into a small plane sitting on the tarmac. She wasn’t going willingly.
“Can you fly this thing?” she wanted to know, bracing her hands on the edge of the doorway.
“Yes.” He peeled her hand off the door and stuffed her inside, tossed her bag in after her, then followed her through the door.
“That’s what you thought about the carriage. Then you handed me the reins.”
He buckled himself into the pilot’s seat. “Your point?” “Flying a plane wasn’t something I learned on the Renaissance circuit.”
“I know how to fly,” he said, flipping switches and starting up the plane.
“Your memory is back?”
/> Yes, he thought, but he said, “No.” Snap decision, but his gut told him it was the right one, and he usually went with his gut.
If he told Rae he was Conn the FBI agent, not Conn the Armorer, she’d start asking questions, and when he refused to answer those questions she’d get pissed and try to ditch him. He couldn’t protect her if she ditched him.
That meant he was going to have to pretend he was just a floater with no memory of who he really was. He tried to convince himself it was just another undercover op. He’d passed himself off as someone else dozens of times and gotten away with it. This was no different.
He looked over at Rae and stopped lying to himself. This one was different, if for no other reason than his ultimate goal on every previous mission had been to keep himself alive. True, on every previous mission the other people involved had been criminals, but he’d have sacrificed the mission to save his own butt.
For the first time, he knew there was one life more important than his own. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it sure as hell didn’t instill him with confidence. And if he didn’t believe he was going to get through this, he probably wouldn’t. And neither would she.
“Hello,” Rae shouted at him, “are you paying attention?”
Conn took a deep breath and tried to channel his inner Renaissance man. He was only partially successful. He nailed the tone if not the style of speech. “It’s not like we’re going to run into anything up here.”
“It’s not up here I’m worried about, it’s down there.”
No shit, Conn thought, but his alter ego wouldn’t have said that. His alter ego would have shrugged it off, so that was what he did. It wasn’t easy to put sarcasm into a shrug, but he gave it a shot, and he must have managed it because when he glanced over she was studying him. So he smiled at her and popped up an eyebrow, and she blushed. It was a shameless exploitation of their night together, but you used what you had. And if you felt crappy about it, you just ate that.