Blood Heat (Dangerous Ground 3)

by Josh Lanyon

  The rumble of a car’s engine drifted across the distance.

  “Come on.” Will started to move in the direction Taylor had thrown the car keys. “I hope you took time to pick a landmark.”

  Taylor didn’t budge, and the steel tether yanked Will back. He whipped around, his temper suddenly soaring. Maybe it was true that there was nothing he feared as much as losing Taylor, but for one blazing instant, he was ready to kill his partner himself.

  If Taylor saw his anger, he gave no sign. He said mildly, “I didn’t throw the car keys.”

  “What? I saw you.”

  “I threw my own keys, not the rental car keys.”

  Will stared at him and then, surprising himself, started to laugh. “You’re kidding.”

  Taylor shook his head. He reached into his pocket, dragging Will’s hand along as he wiggled his fingers, feeling for the rental keys. The denim was stiff and already wet through from the rain, making the body beneath seem warmer than ever. Warm. Alive. No, Will could not regret any decision that kept Taylor living and breathing. Even if that decision ultimately cost him Taylor.

  “Got ’em.” Taylor held the plastic fob up triumphantly.

  “Nice going.” Will meant it.

  “Thanks. You can pay for the rekey of my house.”

  Will ignored that. “Now we just need to get rid of the bracelets. I’ve got an extra set of handcuff keys in my luggage.”

  “Back at the hotel? How’s that’s going to help?”

  “Hey, I’m open to suggestion. Unless the suggestion is you want to shoot the cuffs off.”

  “It works in the movies.” Taylor was moving along the road, searching for his pistol. Will was forced to follow.

  “I hope you’re kidding.”

  Taylor grunted. He squatted down to retrieve his pistol, and Will was forced to squat too, watching as Taylor dusted off the clumping sand.

  “Nice of him to leave us these. We’d have a hell of a time explaining how we both lost our pieces.” Taylor shoved the pistol into his shoulder holster.

  “No kidding.” Will met Taylor’s eyes. “Hey.”

  Taylor was silent.

  “Just so you know, if I have to be shackled to someone, I’d choose you. Every time.”

  He saw the glimmer of Taylor’s teeth as he curled his lip in something that was not exactly a smile. “Just a wild and crazy romantic, aren’t you, Agent Brent?”

  “Yep, little man, I am.”

  Taylor gave him a friendly shove, and they both nearly overbalanced.

  Maybe the camaraderie was a little forced, but it helped ease the strain between them. Dusting off their hands, they went to retrieve Will’s weapon.

  He found his SIG Sauer P229 a few feet from the car. Wincing at the thought of grit working its way into the mechanism, he wiped away as much wet and sand as he could with the tail of his T-shirt. He reholstered the pistol with a feeling of relief.

  “I lost my pen,” Taylor said. “Do you have yours?”

  Will felt around, handed his pen over.

  Taylor held it up. “I can’t see anything.”

  “What is it you need to see? Because unless you’re planning on writing your resignation, we need to get out of here pronto.”

  “I know. Let’s get in the car.”

  “Uh, don’t we need to change the tire first?”

  “First we need to get out of these cuffs, but I have to be able to see what I’m doing.”

  “What are you doing?” Will inquired as they unlocked the car. Taylor crawled in first, followed by Will, who slid beneath the wheel. The pine tree-shaped deodorizer swayed gently, its artificial scent mingling with that of wet clothes and desert rain.

  “I’m going to make a shim and pick this lock.” With his free hand, Taylor reached up and turned on the dome lamp. Pallid light illuminated his face. For a second, Will stared at him, stared at a face he knew as well as his own: the wide, long-lashed green eyes, the full, sensual mouth, the silver streak in the dark hair starting to curl with the damp.

  Unaware of his scrutiny, Taylor was busily taking the pen apart, prying the silver clip from the body. “Hold your wrist up.”

  “I don’t recall lock picking as part of my FLETC training.”

  Taylor grinned faintly as he slid the piece of dismantled pen between the teeth and the mechanism of the cuffs. There were goose bumps on his brown, thinly muscled forearms. The tip of his tongue touched his upper lip. Will felt an inappropriate longing to pull him into his arms and hold him for a moment.

  Possibly more than a moment. And possibly do more than just hold Taylor. But definitely inappropriate.

  Taylor levered the shim, wiggled it, pushed, and the teeth of the lock, thrown out of alignment, clicked over. The cuff opened. He smiled broadly.

  Will rubbed his wrist. “Nice job, MacGyver.”

  “Thanks. Now me.” He frowned, trying to crane his head to see the lock mechanism properly.

  “Someday you’re going to have to tell me where you learned some of these esoteric skills of yours.”

  “Boy Scouts.”

  “You weren’t in the Boy Scouts.”

  “True. I knew one or two, though.” He spared a wink for Will. “Hold that cuff out of the way.”

  Will obeyed.

  It took a little longer, but in another minute or so, Taylor too was free.

  Will expelled a long sigh of relief. They were back in action. Hopefully not too late to fix this fucked-up operation. “Let’s get that tire changed.”

  Taylor tossed the broken pen into the cup holder. “Roger that.”

  “And then,” said Will, yanking open the car door again, “we’re going to knock that goddamned giant off his goddamned beanstalk.”

  Chapter Four

  The rain lashing out of the darkness and streaming in rivulets down the windshield looked white-blue in the artificial glare of the headlights. The wipers could barely keep up. Ahead of them, the narrow road was a winding, slick ribbon of night. The hills around them were shapeless black bulk.

  Eyes intent on the muddy road ahead, Taylor was glad Will had elected to drive. He’d rarely seen worse weather conditions outside of Japan. “God almighty. What is with this rain? It’s summer.”

  The car lagged as Will shifted into a lower gear. “We’re in the mountains. And July is the rainy season.”

  “Great. On the upside, they can’t be making much better time than we are.”

  Will, his attention on the winding road ahead, grunted.

  Taylor glanced at the dashboard: 3:18. It was beginning to feel like the longest night in his life. He refocused on the screen of his BlackBerry GPS — essentially useless at the moment thanks to the lack of steady signal. Happily he could still read a map, and the BlackBerry was at least serving as a light for his navigating.

  “Sierra Blanca Regional Airport is northwest of here. It looks like it’s just over an hour.”

  “Okay. What am I looking for?”

  “West Smokey Bear Boulevard.” He looked up from the map to stare at the nightmare landscape swinging past as Will sped along the canyon road. “Jesus, I believe it. It’s like the Black Forest through here.”

  “City boy.”

  Taylor acknowledged it without resentment. “You know, no way is Nemov going to try and drag her on a plane. He can’t depend on us not going for help.”

  Will threw him a somber look. “No?”

  “Okay. Maybe he can. But I still don’t think he’s going to make for the airport. Not the local airport anyway. I think he’ll go for one of the larger, busier airports. Somewhere he’s guaranteed a direct flight to Los Angeles.”

  Will mulled it over. “Agreed.”

  “So…Albuquerque? He’s going to travel back roads for as long as possible. At least till he’s sure he’s lost us.”

  “If he’s taking her to LA. He could have been lying about that. Maybe he’ll take her back to Denver.”

  “True.” Taylor hadn’t considered
that possibility and wasn’t any happier for having it pointed out.

  Will’s jaw clenched still tighter, but he didn’t respond. Watching him, Taylor said, “Listen…if this all goes south — or further south — I’ll take full responsibility.”

  “Why would you?”

  “Snatching her from Ramirez was my call, and it was a bad call. We should have sent for backup the minute we located her. You would have if you’d been on your own. I fucked up.”

  “You didn’t hold a gun to my head. We both fucked up. Now we’ve got to fix it. Fast.”

  “Right. I just…want you to know that whatever happens, I won’t let it mess up your promotion.”

  Will looked away from the road long enough to offer a disbelieving face. “Not this again. I already told you —”

  “That you’re not sure you’ll accept the Paris tour. I know.”

  “I haven’t decided anything.”

  Taylor nodded. Realizing Will probably couldn’t see that gesture, he said again, “I know.”

  “Really? Because every time this comes up, you make it sound like a foregone conclusion that I’m going.”

  “No.”

  “I haven’t made my mind up either way.”

  “Yeah. Well…”

  “Well what?”

  He couldn’t tell him, but that was part of what hurt: the fact that Will was seriously weighing taking this overseas assignment.

  “It’s just…ironic. I guess. We knew one of us would get marching orders, but —”

  “We thought it would be you.”

  “Yeah.”

  Taylor was the senior agent and due for promotion, and he’d been back in the States longer than Will. Four years now. But in June, Will had been part of a protection detail for the French president’s wife during her stay in Southern California. Apparently he’d made such a favorable impression that a request had come through the highest channels that he be invited to fill a vacancy at the embassy in Paris.

  Taylor summoned his energy and hoped any lack of enthusiasm would be put down to natural fatigue. “It’s a big honor, and it’s an incredible opportunity. A hell of an opportunity.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “And I’m proud of you. Happy for you.”

  Except…

  Except it would mean Will would be posted in Paris for a minimum of two years.

  Two years apart.

  “But?”

  “There is no but. I’m happy for you. I’m proud of you.” The more he insisted, the less sincere he sounded, and he was afraid Will could hear it.

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “Right. But if you’d been offered the assignment, you’d have refused it.”

  The bitterness of Will’s tone shocked Taylor silent for an instant. And then he was angry.

  “Yeah. I would’ve.” No question in his mind. Taylor had already thought it through, and he’d decided that if he couldn’t avoid another overseas tour, he’d resign. Leaving a job he loved was obviously the final recourse. He was pretty sure that with his excellent record and history of foreign service, he’d be able to postpone another overseas assignment for a couple more years, until he and Will were on more stable ground.

  “Bullshit.”

  The fierceness of Will’s denial shut him up. He shouldn’t have brought it up in any case, least of all now. But the unfairness still rankled. That was the way Taylor would have played it, whether Will wanted to believe it or not. Taylor was trying very hard to be supportive of Will — which meant fighting his own worst instincts. It’d be nice to get a little credit.

  “Fine. Forget I said anything.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  He could hear the controlled anger vibrating in Will’s voice. Unlike Taylor, it took a lot to rile Will, so he was obviously feeling self-righteous. Maybe Taylor really was in the wrong here. The promotion was Will’s, and Will wanted it. Of course he did. Taylor couldn’t blame him for that. It was a plum assignment, and there was no telling where it might ultimately lead. In fact, if it wasn’t for his relationship with Taylor, Will would probably have accepted the minute he’d been offered the tour.

  Nor had Will been with the service long enough to be as sure declining an overseas posting wouldn’t have a detrimental effect on his career.

  There was every reason to accept — and only one to decline. And Taylor knew he was a selfish bastard for even thinking Will should put their still-tentative relationship first. At least he hadn’t committed the cardinal sin of asking. Not in so many words, anyway.

  He said, trying to undo some of the damage, “Look, I don’t know how we got off on this. All I meant to say was…I don’t want your choices to be limited because of what we did here tonight.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I make my own decisions.” Will scowled, concentrating on the storm-swept road.

  True enough, but Taylor knew he’d dragged Will along on this New Mexico detour. Left to his own recognizance, Will would have played this by the book and Kelila Hedwig would now be safely in custody and on her way back to Los Angeles.

  For a few minutes, the only sound was the hiss of tires on wet road and the beat of the windshield wipers. There was no sign of taillights anywhere in the darkness stretching ahead.

  “I believed her,” Taylor said, thinking aloud. “Believed her…fear that she wouldn’t make it back to LA alive. I read genuine terror there.”

  It was satisfying, even reassuring, the way Will instantly returned to business as though their earlier argument had never occurred. “That could have been fear of what she’s facing in LA.”

  “Yeah. Fair enough.”

  And if Hedwig had been telling the truth, maybe Nemov was tasked with making sure she never reached her destination.

  He felt rather than saw Will look his way again. “Hey. I trust your instincts, MacAllister.” There was an apology of sorts in there.

  Taylor nodded.

  “Although you’ve got to get over this notion that you’re bulletproof.”

  Taylor snorted.

  Will reached over, found his hand, and squeezed briefly before steadying the wheel once more. “It’ll be okay. We got into this together. We’ll get out of it together.”

  Taylor nodded, already missing that hard, warm hold. Will had been making more of these physical gestures lately. It was one reason Taylor was pretty sure Will was taking the Paris job, even if he didn’t know it himself yet.

  “Any sign of that sonofabitch ahead of us?”

  They crested another rise in the road. Taylor scanned the ink-washed world. “No.” He returned to studying the map by the light of his BlackBerry. “If he avoids the main highways — and he will because he thinks we’ll be looking for him to take the fastest route possible — it should take him over four hours to get to Albuquerque. Probably more in this weather.”

  “Assuming he thinks as logically as you.”

  They were both silent as the car seemed to sway, buffeted by a gust of rain, before Will corrected. Visibility was increasingly bad.

  Taylor said evenly, “So once we find West Smokey Bear Boulevard, we’ll follow it for about twenty miles.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Taylor’s head jerked up. He stared out the windshield, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A tree seemed to be flying out of the darkness and down the road toward them. The next instant, he realized the uprooted tree was in front of a wall of brown water rushing their way.

  Flash flood. He’d read about them, seen their aftermath on the nightly news, but he’d never witnessed that sheer destructive capability firsthand. The little he knew was enough to freeze his brain.

  In what felt like slow motion, he watched Will wrench the wheel to send the car skating off the road and sliding across the shoulder, heading for the tree-studded hillside. The earth was soft and muddy on the shoulder, and Taylor felt the front tires sink, felt them spinning. Will swore, cut the gas, gunned the motor, then took his foot
off the accelerator again. Miraculously, through that alternating on and off of gas and neutral position, they gained traction.

  Where the hell were they going?

  The car shot forward, bumping and grinding up the grassy slope, ripping out saplings and brush as they went.

  They were traveling at a diagonal, the hillside grade too sharp to permit a straight approach.

  “Come on, baby.” Will gritted the words out as they plowed through a dense thicket of coarse shrubbery.

  Taylor realized he hadn’t taken a breath since they’d left the main highway. He looked past Will and saw a brown river tumbling just a few feet below them — where no river had previously existed.

  The car’s chassis slammed down on what felt like solid rock. The transmission screeched. The tires spun. They dragged forward another yard and lurched to a stop. The car balanced precariously, the left side tilting downhill. A pine cone hit the windshield and bounced away. It was followed by a tree branch.

  “That’s not good.”

  Taylor wasn’t aware of speaking until Will, staring down the hillside at the rapidly rising water, released a startled choke of laughter and turned back to him. “You think? We’ve got to get to higher ground.”

  “You can’t drive any farther up this slope.” It seemed to Taylor that Will had defied gravity to get this far.

  “No. We’ll have to climb. Move it.” Will pointed. “Your side.”

  Taylor shoved the door open against the wind and rain beating down. He crawled out, then held the door, reaching back for Will. Will scooted gingerly across the gearbox and then froze, his knee planted in the passenger seat.

  Did the car slide a few inches? Taylor couldn’t tell, but it was only too likely. “Hurry the hell up, Brandt.” His hand locked on Will’s, and he hauled with all his strength. Will scrabbled out to stand beside him, breathing hard.

  The muddy water was steadily rising. Taylor could make out the murky tide through the pelting rain. He stared, fascinated, as the water crept still higher. How could it move so fast?

  “Climb.” Will punched him on the shoulder.

  Taylor obeyed, turning to climb.