“You know, I’ve heard that before. Never seems to be true.”
“This time, it is. All you have to do is trust me, and everything will be okay.”
“In other words, lower my weapon, and we’ll have a hugfest. Sorry, you have to do better than that.”
“Okay.” Vince dropped his arms but kept his hands in front of him. “How about this? We’ve got a double-agent in the operation, someone who wants nothing more than to find a cozy government job and to hell with the rest of us.”
Clancy nodded. “I’ve heard that.”
“And you heard it was me.”
Another nod and Clancy said, “Yep.”
“From a great source, one you trust implicitly.” Vince moved forward until he was only a few steps from grabbing range. “Someone who’s been advising you on how to get away, how to make sure you and the woman are safe.”
Clancy didn’t answer right away. Vince was trying to lull him into a false security. The man had been around too long to think that would work. This wasn’t a television show with neat little fifteen-minute segments to a hook and a tidy wrap-up. This was real life.
This was his life. Nadine’s.
“Next you’re going to tell me I should never have put my fate in Nate Tompkins.”
“Oh, I could have told you that.”
Clancy whirled at the sound of a familiar voice behind him. Before he could react, Nate had his hand around Nadine’s arm, drawing her in front of him and tossing the gun she held behind them. The ugly black revolver he held, pointed straight at Vince, gave Clancy his answer.
“Fucking traitor.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was forming them. Nate laughed and put the gun against Nadine’s neck.
“Aw, sweetheart, don’t you love me anymore?” he mocked. “Here I thought we were BFFs. I was even contemplating getting you a cushy job in intelligence where your unique talents would be appreciated.”
“You really are a bastard.”
“Why, yes, yes, I am. Now, I suggest you lay that gun down very carefully. Then show me your ankle.”
Clancy obeyed, pulling up the legs of his pants to show the empty holster.
“Very good. Now that bulge in your pocket – why don’t we see what you’re hiding there?”
If he’d had a clear shot, Clancy would have used the Taser. But with Nadine as a shield there was no way he could be sure of hitting Nate. If he tried and missed, the man who was now his enemy might get tired of the game and squeeze that trigger. Nate had said it himself: the government would rather get rid of Nadine’s memories by killing her than by any other process. And he was damned if he was going to push the issue.
He pulled the Taser out and tossed it toward Nate. All he had left was the machete, and a fat lot of good that was doing him.
“Vince, buddy, come join us.” Nate gestured with his head to a spot just in front of Clancy; a cocky grin appeared when his colleague was in place.
“Now be a good boy and empty your pockets.”
“I’m not carrying.”
“Bullshit. We both know better. Don’t make me shoot the little lady.”
Vince shrugged. “Go ahead. What do I care? She’s just a government whore anyway.”
Nate stepped awkwardly forward, bringing Nadine with him. When he was a few feet from Vince, he ordered the other man one more time to turn out his pockets.
Vince refused again, and Nate’s gun sight moved from Nadine to Vince’s heart. Clancy stifled the shout of “Just do it, Vince!” and stood motionless as the two faced each other down. When Nate ordered Nadine to check Vince, he almost threw himself at his former friend. Almost. He wasn’t certain he could be faster than a bullet, and he had an idea Nate expected him to do just that.
Vince hadn’t been lying. All he had was a can of pepper spray which Nadine threw across the cavern on her captor’s orders. Considering the mess they were in, the man seemed awfully relaxed, Clancy decided as he assessed the situation.
Trapped in what might become his limestone tomb gave a new definition to the phrase “between a rock and a hard place.” He cursed himself as ten kinds of fool for blindly believing Nate. His favorite sci-fi show had used the tag line, “Trust no one.” He should have adopted it as his personal motto. He should have been a better damn guard. Snuggling with Nadine proved how stupid he could be.
“Now what?” The question came from Vince.
“Murder, suicide,” Clancy answered. “Nate kindly explained what was going to happen, except he said you were going to be pulling the trigger.”
He didn’t intend to say more. And he wouldn’t have if Nadine hadn’t given him a wink from her position back against Nate’s body. So he filled Vince in on the hooker/psychopath suggestion, laying it out as if he’d never heard anything so brilliant. He watched Nadine as she backed tighter to Nate and turned enough to look into his face. If he’d had to put a name to her facial expression, he would have said adoration. Her eyes were wide, and her lips slightly parted, as if he was the most fascinating man she’d ever seen.
Clancy held his breath, waiting for the slam of a gunshot, when she inched her fingers up Nate’s chest to his neck. She leaned into him, offering an invitation that few men would refuse.
“I know we’ve never been introduced,” she said with a hint of breathiness in her voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you, though. Clancy wouldn’t stop talking about you, especially how brilliant you were to think of this place.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
The words were gruff, but Nate’s body language screamed something else. His arm around her tightened, and his knee was between Nadine’s slightly parted thighs. Clancy didn’t know what she had in mind, but he hoped to hell it worked.
“I’ve decided I like this macho stuff.” She ran her fingers across Nate’s jaw. “And even though we both know you’re going to kill me, I want something first.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve never had sex just for fun. I tried to talk that guy into it, but he’s all honor and integrity. So let’s do this. You put a bullet in his head then shoot his friend in the heart. It will be just the two of us then, no one to spoil the mood. Is it too much to ask for one dying request?”
“Hell, no,” Clancy blurted.
“Oh, don’t want me to fuck your lady? Too late. I like her idea. I might even give her a couple of days to persuade me to let her live.”
Nate raised the revolver and aimed at Clancy. Nadine put her hand on his and said, “Not like that. Dramatic.”
“You want him to run?”
She shook her head. “Make him kneel. Isn’t that how they execute people?”
Nate laughed. “Only in the movies. But if that’s what you want, I’ll be glad to oblige.” He nodded behind him. “Get over there, Vince.”
“No,” Nadine protested. “What if he jumps you? He’s even a bigger coward, because he didn’t even bring a gun. Make him watch before you kill him.”
She looked up at Nate and licked her lips. “Just the thought of it is making me hot. So you’d better be ready when the second one falls.”
She gave a hurry-up wave in Clancy’s direction. Not knowing what she had in mind but trusting her, he knelt on the cold, hard stone. Her second order put Vince right behind him, standing, his hands behind his back. When she stepped away from Nate, just out of his range of vision, she thrust one hand behind her and mimicked pulling something up and out.
Clancy got it. And he hoped to hell Vince did, too.
“Point blank, sweetie.” Nadine’s voice held excitement and anticipation. “In the temple. I want his brains to implode. Then I’ll make your everything explode.”
Nate laughed, moved to Clancy’s left side and pressed the cold barrel against the flesh and bone of his skull. “Ready?” he asked.
“Oh, let me count it down.” Nadine clapped her hands and began to count backward from ten. Clancy’s blood was frozen, his breathing shallow as he struggled
to remain motionless against the fear flooding through him. Her voice seemed to come from a distance, a melodious drumroll introducing the grim reaper’s arrival.
When she sang out “Four!” Vince’s hands grabbed the hidden machete. Clancy dropped and rolled, a spray of blood covering him as the killing blade came up and chopped off Nate’s gun hand.
The wounded man’s scream of pain filled every crevice, echoing until it sounded like a dozen men in agony. Nadine grabbed the small gun he’d taken from her, steadied her hands and shot.
The bullet went right between Nate’s eyes. He fell backward, his severed arm flailing. Nadine tossed the gun away and erupted in huge, pained sobs. Clancy ran to her, cradling her against him and away from the nauseating sight.
“Forgive me,” she cried against his strength. “Oh, God, I killed a man. I… killed… a… man.”
Clancy scooped her up in his arms and carried her away from the carnage in the cavern and back into the tunnels. Between his guidance and Vince’s, they managed to maneuver her through the connecting passageways and outside. Night had come while they were inside; he was grateful for its cover.
“Wait here,” Vince ordered as he snapped on his key ring flashlight and headed for his truck. He came back with a full gallon jug of water and some red work rags that he handed to Clancy. Vince took Nadine’s hand and led her to where he was parked.
Clancy scrubbed at his skin where the blood was cooling and beginning to gel. When he’d done the best he could, he poured the last of the water over his hair and face and walked over to join the others.
They were in deep conversation. He hesitated, unsure of whether to interrupt. This was the moment he’d dreaded. Vince would arrange transport and Nadine would be gone.
Which is the way it’s supposed to be. He reminded himself of his duty and her danger. He shouldn’t even know her name. She should have remained another of the faceless people helped into a life they could control for good or bad.
“Hey.” She walked toward him, her face somber.
“Hey, yourself.” He smiled, hoping she would, too. It didn’t work.
“I guess this is goodbye.” Her arms were crossed over her chest, her hands clasping her elbows as if to hold the hurt inside. “I don’t know where I’m going or what happens next, but I’ll never forget you. Never.”
Clancy’s hands fisted, but he kept his arms by his side. He had to let her go.
“They can find me if you need me.”
“Yeah.”
“Take care of yourself. Be happy.”
“You, too,” Nadine choked out before turning and running to where Vince waited. Soul frozen and heart broken, Clancy did the only thing he could.
He let her go.
Chapter Nine
Summer had come to Alabama in all its heat and humidity. Clancy smacked the window air conditioner in the motel window and wondered why he couldn’t just once end up in Michigan in the summer and Florida in the winter. Ah, well, he was out of here for a while anyway. Mandatory downtime was the formal term for “vacation before you break.”
The debriefing had been brutal. He never saw the conductor who took Nadine away. The dark van pulled up, she got in, and it was as if she’d never been there. He and Vince hadn’t talked on the ride to Nashville where Clancy first gave every detail of the experience then spent two days talking to a psychologist. Once he was certified okay to return to the field, he was relocated to Alabama for additional training. Apparently his skills with a knife and sutures hadn’t gone unnoticed. In four months, he’d gotten the equivalent of paramedic training plus a crash course in minimal surgery.
Two weeks out of circulation then reassignment. Two weeks of being bored out of his skull then a chance to bury himself in his work was how he looked at it.
The series of raps on the door were vintage Vince. Clancy grabbed his duffel and stepped outside. By the time he got back, the little else he owned would be waiting for him wherever he was being sent.
“Damn, man, you don’t have to look like you’re going to the gallows.” Vince handed him a lidded foam cup.
“And this is what?” Clancy asked, pulling off the lid and peering inside with suspicion.
“Decaffeinated cyanide.” Vince slapped him on the back. “It’s some frothy milky thing the girl at the coffee bar recommended. She was too cute to say no to.”
“Thanks a lot.” Clancy took a cautious sip. The taste wasn’t as bad as he expected. He’d rather have a straight black coffee, but he supposed he could live with this. After all, as one of those psychiatrists had reminded him, new experiences expanded horizons and could bring joy. Or some crap like that.
If there was any perk in living off the grid, it was not having to travel on commercial flights. A private plane waited at a small airstrip twenty miles away; he was the only passenger. The pilot greeted him and reminded him to buckle up.
Clancy slept during most of the long trip. He woke shortly before the plane touched down at another small strip. The air outside was cool and held a scent of pine.
“Have a nice stay.”
The pilot’s farewell stayed with him as he walked into the small terminal. An attractive woman in denim capris and a button-down pink shirt stood when he approached.
“Welcome to Michigan,” she said, offering a hand.
“It’s a nice change from where I’ve been,” Clancy said.
“I hope you packed a jacket. Temperatures can drop at night this far up north.”
That, he supposed, was where he was supposed to ask his exact location. He didn’t figure it mattered. He knew how this went. He’d be taken to some quiet place, socialize a little with whoever else was there and lay around a lot. Just before he left, someone would show up to figure out whether he was solid enough to throw back into the fray.
“I’m ready for anything,” he said.
The woman answered with a smile that seemed to hold a secret. With his luck, he was going to spend the week in a friggin’ spa with mud packs and yoga sessions.
During the ride to his destination, they indulged in the sort of small talk strangers made who would never meet again. She told him the area’s history; he pretended to care. The scenery was nice, though. Leafy trees dappled with sunshine stood as sentinels along scenic roads. Even the cows in the fields seemed to have been posed to give a bucolic feeling. He wasn’t surprised when their journey ended at a picturesque, two-story white building with a sign out front that read ‘Oak Grove Bed and Breakfast.’
“Thanks for the ride,” Clancy said as he grabbed his bag. As he expected, a brick walk led to a columned front porch with pristine, white wicker furniture. What he couldn’t figure out was why anybody in their right mind thought he belonged in a place like this.
He’d only put his foot on the first step when the wide door with its brass kick plate swung open. A voice he’d never expected to hear again said, “About time you showed up.”
Nadine stood in the doorway. Her hair was shorter, cut to frame her face, and her pale skin had tanned. The skirt of her white sundress showed off her shapely legs and bare feet.
She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
The duffel fell from his hand as he took the steps two at a time, rushing across the wide porch to grab her and swing her around. Laughter danced in her eyes, telling him she loved the way he’d been tricked.
“I have missed you so damn much.” He set her on her feet and studied her again. He was right. She was even more beautiful now.
“I’ve thought about you every day.” She stroked his face. “And every night.”
The nights. How many times had he woken up, certain she was beside him? He’d replayed every intimate moment, every kiss they’d shared, every sweet word she’d said.
“So you’re doing okay, Nadine?”
“Nadine disappeared over Manitoba three months ago. I arrived here as Rebecca Callihan, a widow from Oregon looking for a new beginning. The supposed life insurance money was eno
ugh to buy this house and make it into an inn. Occupancy has been pretty good until now.” She grinned. “I was forced to close because of a plumbing problem. I expect it to be repaired in a couple weeks.”
“Then it’s just you and me.” He pulled closer, catching the scent of bath powder.
“Just you and me, like we said.”
“Except I thought it was supposed to involve you in a bikini and beach drinks.”
She wiggled away, untied the shoulders of her dress and let it slip to the floor. Clancy swallowed hard as she posed, hand on hip, in the tiniest yellow bikini he’d ever seen. When he reached for her, she ran into the house and stopped in the middle of the front room.
A huge multi-colored umbrella had been poked into a children’s swim pool filled with sand. Potted ferns were grouped like foliage, and two large beach towels lay side by side. Posters of exotic locations had been taped on the wall.
“Our own private paradise,” she said, dropping onto one of the beach towels. “And I think you’re overdressed.”
She tossed him the smallest men’s swim briefs he’d ever seen, giggling as he studied them with a frown on his face. He dropped them and kicked off his shoes, then pulled his shirt over his head. She quit giggling and watched, biting her lower lip, as he unzipped his pants, finished undressing and stood naked in front of her.
“I don’t think they’ll fit,” he said, lying down beside her.
“Uh, me either.” She curled her hand around his erection as if trying to decide.
“Careful, babe,” he said, and she pulled her hand away. “If I remember right, I think I promised you three days of sex and food, and I’d like the first part to last longer than thirty seconds.”
“Me, too.” She wiggled close and lifted her face for a kiss. “Now, how about showing me paradise?”
About the Author
Bella St. James was born in America’s cold Midwest and raised in a small farming community. As a single woman enjoying life’s variety, her journeys have taken her from the grand sights of Europe to questionable motels and quaint roadside diners along Interstate highways and less-traveled roads. She appreciates fine chocolates, sexy men and that first cup of coffee in the morning, and she hopes to visit a volcano and learn to make a decent piecrust before she dies.
Freefall (New Reality Series, Book Three) by Bella St. James Page 10