I stared at him and nodded, still feeling his kiss on my lips.
Huff gave me a slow smile. “If only things were different…”
I knew what he meant. But he and I would never work out. He wasn’t totally tall enough for my tastes. I’d be stuck in flats forever.
“Pick up your gun, R. Take the lantern, and head back the way you came.” He pointed the way. “I know another way out. I’ll take our boy here and go that way.”
Ket was scowling and looking like he wanted to kill both Huff and me.
I nodded. “Huff?”
“Yeah?”
“My grandpa?”
“He’s fine. The cops have him. The man’s an ox, but he swears like a sissy.”
I laughed and a tear of joy trickled down my cheek. Huff really did know Dutch. “Were you…?”
“Watching him? Yeah.”
“Thank you,” I said, totally relieved. “I really do have a guardian angel.”
“I don’t know about that,” Huff said. “Dark angel, maybe.”
I retrieved my gun. “Be careful.”
“Always.” He pointed again. “Did you kill Sal?”
“I don’t know. I punched him in the windpipe and fled. I left him back there.” I pointed in the direction I’d come.
Huff nodded as he gave me the up and down. “Hot shoes.”
I smiled through my tears.
“Hot woman, too,” he said. “Now go.”
I took off down the tunnel, running in my heels as if they were Nike Airs.
I’d gone maybe half a block when I heard a gunshot. I convinced myself it was a car backfiring on the street above. Cars did that all the time on the steep Seattle hills. A backfire didn’t bear investigating. Not like a gunshot.
I twisted my ankle and my shoe heel snapped. I stopped to fix my shoe and heard footsteps and raspy, labored panting behind me. I lurched forward, ready to go it lopsided.
“Hold it right there, toots.” Only the words came out hoarse and raspy.
I froze and turned to look behind me. Goon had his gun aimed at me. He was holding his throat with his other hand. Even in the dim light he looked green to me. Probably I’d done a bit of windpipe damage to him. He was breathing hard and labored. Why hadn’t I heard him before? It may have had something to do with my own heart hammering away in my ears.
“You look terrible,” I said to him without a trace of sympathy. “You need a medic. You don’t have the energy to take me hostage.”
And then in a twinkling, I heard down the path the prancing and running of a dozen FBI agents. More rapid than eagles, the agents came with weapons drawn and bright lights obscuring them from view.
Blinded by the light, I shielded my eyes with my arm.
“Drop the gun, Sal!”
“Van!” I screamed, and started toward him. Or rather, the light. Which I think meant him. Light at the end of the tunnel took on a whole new meaning.
“Stay put, R.”
“I’m in the crossfire here, V. I really, really want to go to the light.” I imagined him smiling, though he could have been all serious FBI.
“When it’s safe, R. Drop your weapon, Sal. We outgun you. We have snipers. Let the girl go. Come in peacefully, and maybe we can cut you a deal.”
“No deal. I still have Toots’s gramps.” Goon’s wheeze sounded worse. He gave a big, bloody-sounding cough that made smoker’s hack sound melodious by comparison.
“We have Dutch. Safe and sound,” Van said.
I almost collapsed with relief as Van confirmed they’d found Grandpa bound and stashed in a nearby alley, giving Goon enough details to convince him of the truth.
Goon hack, hack, hacked again.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said, taking some small amount of pity on Goony boy. “He needs a doctor, V. Offer him a trip to Harborview before he hacks his insides up. I gave Goon a good chop in the throat. Goon, take whatever V offers and get help.”
“What she said,” Van said. “Medical attention.”
Goon wheezed out a curse and dropped his weapon.
“Hands above your head where we can see them.”
Goon wheezed a second time and held his hands over his head, looking like it took his last ounce of energy to do it. He swayed, ready to go down for the count. Two agents ran past me and cuffed him. They had to hold him up to do it. Several other agents kept their guns trained on Goon.
I ran to the light and Van, and collapsed into his arms. “Boy am I glad to see you! Ket didn’t kill you, after all.”
“I have a hard head.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Thank God for tracking devices.” He paused. “You knew about Ket attacking me?” he asked, suspicion and surprise in his voice. “And I thought I was going to have to apologize for not fully checking the bathroom.”
I blushed, but I doubt anyone noticed in the dark. “I did slam the door in your face.”
“Yeah, that.” He looked around. “Ket?”
I did a mental head slap. “Ket! Huff has him.”
I hesitated just a second out of loyalty for Huff. I couldn’t withhold evidence from Van. That would be wrong, illegal, probably making me an accessory, and probably be bad for our relationship. Huff was on his own with his head start.
“And the dongle! Huff has the dongle. It was on my key chain. And then he asked for my car keys, to escape. And he gave me back my flash drive. The real one. And he said—”
Van put a finger to my lips to quiet me. “We have the real dongle. We swapped it off your key chain yesterday. I just got verification this afternoon—it’s our dongle.” He gave me a lopsided grin. Half his face still wasn’t working real great. “We tried to swap it out at your mom’s house, but Dutch interrupted us—”
“What!” I gave Van a shove.
“Hey! I thought you’d be happy.”
“What was all this about?” I made an encompassing gesture with my arms. “Why did I risk my life?”
“To get Dutch back,” Van said, nonplussed. “And capture Goon.” He pulled me close again.
Van’s phone rang. He flicked it open. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…okay.” He hung up and flashed me a tender, compassionate look. “My agents just found Ket.” His tone of voice didn’t bode well for Ket’s well-being.
I gulped. “Yeah?”
“They found him shot to death in an alley near another entrance to the Underground.”
“He’s dead?” I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. I was free. Free. I snuggled into Van for comfort. “Huff?”
“Canarino’s right-hand man. No sign of him. But your car’s fine. He never had any intention of stealing it.”
“Do you think he killed…?”
“Yeah, probably. And Jay, too. We think it was Huff who was following you in the warehouse yesterday. When you thought it was me. He’s been following you. Keeping an eye on you and the dongle.”
My knees buckled as I realized killing Ket was probably the making up Huff had mentioned. I felt sick.
Van caught me and swung me up into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
Van carried me back into the safety of Lou’s. I blinked into the light. Grandpa sat at a table, being questioned by special agents and fussed over by paramedics.
“There she is! There’s my girl!” He stood and ran to us, enveloping Van and me in a big Dutch hug.
“Grandpa!” I hugged him back.
Dutch let us go and took a step back. He gave Van a squeeze on the shoulder. “This one’s a good one,” he said to me. He turned to Van. “Thank you, young man.”
Van nodded.
“You like him?” I whispered to Grandpa. “You are aware that he’s not a nerd, and I like him a lot.”
Dutch winked at me just as two paramedics came up beside him. He nodded his head toward them. “They want me to go to the hospital for observation.”
“Go,” I said.
Dutch looked at Van. “I guess you’re in good
hands.”
I leaned over and kissed Grandpa on the cheek. “Go,” I said again. He let the two medics lead him through a crowd of reporters to an ambulance waiting for him just outside Lou’s. I watched him go.
“I could really use a drink,” I said as the medics loaded Grandpa in the ambulance. “Did Cliff ever order me one?”
“Ask him.” Van nodded to the corner of the room where special agents had Steve, Cliff, and Jim in cuffs and were reading them their rights.
“They look busy.”
War, Kyle, and Ace sat at the table where I’d left them, answering questions for several other agents. Outside, Grandpa’s ambulance pulled away, past a horde of news crews and cameramen awaiting our departure.
War jumped up and almost kissed me, he looked so happy. He caught himself in time and handed me one of the FSC trophies instead. “For the last honest camper.” He looked both sheepish and grateful.
I took it from him and tried to smile. “And here I was going for Miss Congeniality.”
“That, too. You did a hell of a job at camp. We’re proud of you, CT,” War said and cleared his throat. “On behalf of FSC, I’d like to offer you a free session of your choice at any of our facilities.”
“Thanks.” I smiled my appreciation, not planning on taking him up on that offer any time soon.
Another ambulance worked its way to the front of the building. Van took me by the elbow. “Your carriage awaits.”
“That?” I pointed. “I’m fine.”
He gave me a look meant to silence me.
“You’re coming with me, Mr. Hardhead.”
He did the grin thing again and guided me toward the door. “Ready?”
I nodded, and clutching my FSC statuette like it was an Oscar, made my celebrity-of-the-moment way into the ambulance as reporters jabbed mics in my face and flashes went off.
“I hope they got my good side this time,” I said as the ambulance doors closed and a paramedic took my blood pressure. “You know what I could use, V?”
“What?” he said from the stretcher next to me.
“A vacation.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I’m not. A vacation on a nice, quiet beach somewhere. No guns. No mobsters. No dongles. I might even buy a new bikini.” I gave him a significant look, imagining him on the beach next to me.
“I have some time off coming up.”
“Do you?”
“How does Hawaii sound?” He squeezed my hand.
“Fantastic.”
He leaned over and brushed my lips with a light kiss. All wasn’t exactly right with the world. But close enough.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2009 by Gina Robinson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-1380-8
Spy Games Page 26