Packing Heat

by Penny McCall

  “Right after she got a good look at you in this car. And how about the rest of the people who work here? Not to mention the diners.”

  Cole took in the faces peering out at them, some from the hostess’s station at the front door, others whose tables overlooked the parking lot. “You might have a point.”

  “And it wasn’t inflating your ego.”

  “I figured that out a long time ago.”

  “We’ve only been together for seven days.”

  “Really? It seems longer.”

  “Yeah.”

  They both went silent, mulling that for a few seconds.

  “It hasn’t all been bad,” Cole said, backing out of the parking space and heading out to the I-44 service drive. “I’m not in jail. And I’m still alive. At the moment.”

  Harmony smiled over that. “Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

  “Peachy,” Cole said, his eyes cutting in her direction with a look that matched the sarcastic drawl. “So how about the car? Do we have to ditch it?”

  “A black GT with white racing stripes? There are what, five of these things on the road? And I’d be willing to bet none of them are in farm country, Oklahoma.”

  “Okay, it’s not exactly a stealth vehicle, but it’s a definite asset if we run into any more cops. And I don’t think we have to worry about the Russians. They might want to keep tabs on us, but they won’t interfere as long as we’re doing what they want us to do.”

  Harmony didn’t agree, but she really couldn’t refute his logic, either. They’d finally made it to Tulsa, stopping a little past midway through the city where the neighborhood was working class verging on working poor, and the inhabitants would be used to minding their own business. Cole found a small travel motel not far off the interstate, took a room in the back, and parked the GT where it wouldn’t be easily seen.

  They ate in silence, letting the upheaval of the day slough off in quiet and decent food and, at least in Harmony’s case, there appeared to be some dread involved. She was jumpy, barely picking at her meal before she gave up and took to her feet, prowling the room—and watching him, although whenever he glanced her way she was looking elsewhere. Strange—and troubling, considering the change in their personal relationship. She wasn’t exactly a poster child for emotional detachment, and sure, she was the one who’d felt a need to set boundaries, but that was days ago. He had no clue what was going through her mind now, and he didn’t want to find out.

  “I think it would be a good idea to put more money in the kidnappers’ account,” he said, because if Richard wasn’t the one on her mind, he should be. “It won’t take me long, and between the virus and the trouble his guys are in, Treacher is probably too busy to bother with me tonight. Why don’t you take a shower and try to relax before you have to call them.”

  She kept pacing, and just when he decided she hadn’t heard him, she whipped around and said, “I lied, Cole.” She collapsed into a chair, looking exhausted and miserable as she met his eyes for the first time since they’d walked into the room. “There’s no new evidence. I figured once we rescued Richard the Bureau would be so grateful they’d commute your sentence, but the way this is going—Now that we’re up against Victor Treacher . . .” She shook her head. “He has a lot to loose. And Mike’s not too happy with me. I’m probably out of a job.”

  So much for his ego, thinking she was all torn up about him. He ought to be feeling something, anything, but he was just . . . numb. And then it all started to crowd in.

  “Say something.”

  “Say something? What the hell do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know, yell at me. Call me names, whatever works for you.”

  “Why? It’s not like I actually believed you.” But somewhere along the line he’d come to trust her.

  Cole was usually a thinker, but he couldn’t contain this with a moment of silence and the application of logic. He surged to his feet, paced across the room and back again, struggling to contain the swirl of anger and betrayal. And failing. He wanted to shove the confession back down her throat so they could keep going as they had been, working together. Sleeping together. So he didn’t have to walk out that door and leave her on her own.

  It was what he should do, what he’d learned to do in Lewisburg. Protect your own ass at all costs. It was a decision he’d already made, to walk if this thing went south. And now it was a course he couldn’t take. Because she wasn’t the only one to blame.

  He’d lied to himself, too. Not in the beginning. When he’d made his every-man-for-himself game plan, he’d been ready, willing, and able to carry it out. Now he couldn’t, and sacrificing himself to a hopeless cause was the worst kind of self-betrayal.

  She came to stand in front of him, her blue eyes, wide and brimming, focused unwaveringly on his face. He banded his hands around her upper arms, lifted her onto her toes.

  She bit into her bottom lip, but she kept her eyes on his. “God, Cole, I’m so sorry.”

  He let her go so fast she stumbled. He wasn’t ready for mea culpas or explanations, so he turned his back. It wasn’t enough, neither was pacing, but it was all he could do to work off the anger and sort out a million clamoring thoughts.

  “Why now?” he finally asked her.

  “If we’re not honest with each other, we won’t get through this alive.”

  Wrong answer, was his immediate reaction, but he didn’t know why. Hell, he didn’t know if there was a right answer.

  “After you told me about Treacher,” she said, “I was pretty mad.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “I know. It didn’t take me long to realize it was all my own fault.”

  Just like it was his fault for trusting her. Not only was she FBI, but he’d watched her lie to just about everyone they’d run across. When had he convinced himself she wouldn’t do the same to him?

  “I had no time to plan or prepare,” she was saying. “I read your file, and as far as I could tell, you were just another hacker. You suited my purposes and I didn’t care what you’d done.”

  “And now?”

  “If I’d known what I was getting into, and what I was getting you into—”

  He whipped around. “You’d have done it anyway.”

  “Yes,” she blazed up, striding over to face him. “I can’t leave Richard to die,” she said, the rest of her breath sobbing out.

  “So you put your own neck on the line. And mine.”

  “And that’s another reason you should know the truth. You’re innocent—”

  She kept talking, but he lost the rest of what she said. It felt like a cleansing wind blew through him, not strong enough to completely clear the storm, but the clouds thinned enough for him to savor that one word he’d been waiting to hear for eight years. That Harmony was the one who believed in him, though she had little more than his word to go on, gave it even more meaning.

  Everybody in the joint claimed to be innocent. Cole actually was, but nobody had believed him, including the lawyer who’d sucked him dry before leaving him to the mercy of the system. The young public defender who’d caught his case knew there was no point in filing an appeal when the accuser was one of the top suits at the FBI and the accused was a kid with no connections and no resources, just parents who, if Cole had let them would have mortgaged everything they owned to try to help him.

  Fucking feds, he thought for the millionth time. But he couldn’t dredge up enough anger to really mean it. The sense of vindication, at least in that moment, was too sweet.

  And then reality crashed back in.

  “Cole? I’m serious. I think you should take off.”

  “You don’t need me anymore, now that I’ve transferred enough money to satisfy the Russians.”

  She stared at him, her eyes filled with what he would have sworn was hurt before she shifted her gaze left and said, “You’re right. You’ve done what I wanted, and I don’t need you anymore. Leave me the account numbers and go. I wish
. . .” She stopped, shook her head slightly. “I’ll make sure Mike gets your case reopened. If you call him in a couple weeks, he’ll let you know what it’ll take to prove Treacher framed you.”

  “Being a martyr now?”

  Her gaze shot to his, filled with heat before she banked it. “The Russians are my problem, not yours. I told you that from day one.”

  “You also told me you’d get my sentence commuted to time served.”

  “I just said Mike—”

  “You promised, not Mike.”

  It took a few seconds, but she finally put the hope in her eyes into words. “Are you saying you want to help me finish this?”

  “Do you really think the Russians are going to settle for four million dollars?”

  “No.”

  “Then you still need me.”

  “Yes.”

  He walked back over to the table and righted his chair, pulling her laptop in front of him. He didn’t boot it up; he was busy watching her.

  She didn’t seem to notice. She sat on the end of the bed, swallowing hard a couple of times, her fingers absently pleating her dress. Cole felt like a heel. She was grateful he hadn’t walked out on her, but the real reason he’d stayed was the money. He’d transferred funds into the kidnappers’ account, but in the fallout of his viral sabotage on the FBI’s computer system, there’d been no chance to set himself up, let alone search for the evidence to clear himself, because Harmony had insisted on leaving.

  Since the new evidence didn’t exist, all he had left was diverting some money to fund his disappearance. He could get it on his own, but it was so much easier with her. And the second he’d done it he’d walk away, he told himself. Guilt-free.

  “No more lies,” Harmony said into the silence. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” Cole said. After all, it was the truth. He’d been keeping this secret all along.

  chapter 19

  “I THINK I WILL TAKE A SHOWER,” HARMONY SAID after another half hour of uncomfortable silence.

  Cole waited until she’d disappeared into the bathroom and he heard the water running. For once he had no trouble keeping his mind off what was going on behind the shower curtain. He booted up her slick little laptop and went straight into the FBI’s banking system, for the first time with no worry. Before the water cut off, he’d added several million to the kidnappers’ bank account, and he’d done a little creative accounting for his own benefit.

  By the time Harmony came out of the bathroom, he was able to fully appreciate the sweatpants and matching tank she must have bought for herself when she’d supplemented his wardrobe a couple days before. The pants were the kind that skimmed across her hip bones and left a strip of bare skin before the hem of the tank got in the way. The material was all clingy, too . . .

  And he’d just rediscovered his detachment. He couldn’t afford to lose it again if he was going to put himself first. “So what did you really do at the FBI?”

  She moved away from him, keeping her eyes, and her thoughts, to herself. “I tracked computer criminals.”

  That stopped him. “If you’re good enough to catch hackers, what do you need me for?”

  “I didn’t exactly catch hackers.”

  “Offshore cyber-criminals?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Lonely geeks who unleash worms and viruses from their mom’s basements?”

  “No.”

  “High school kids who trash their friends on Facebook?”

  “I track down copyright violators, okay? You know the FBI warning at the beginning of a movie you rent or buy? That’s me.”

  “You’re the DVD police?”

  “I’m the person who takes down bootleg movies on the Internet and prosecutes the perpetrators.”

  Cole was feeling a lot better suddenly, trying-not-to-laugh-his-ass-off better. “How long have you been with the FBI?”

  Harmony’s eyes narrowed on his mouth, probably because it was twitching. “Almost five years.”

  “And you’ve been the DVD police all that time?”

  “I’m not the DVD police,” she snapped. “And no. I’ve only been in Cyber Crime the last twenty months or so.”

  “There must be a reason you weren’t put in the field.”

  She clamped her jaw shut for a minute, then said on a little burst of temper, “They think I have trouble compartmentalizing.”

  Cole didn’t bother trying to keep a straight face. “In other words, you get emotionally involved.”

  “No, those are pretty much the exact words they used. And you should be grateful, since that’s the reason I decided to break you out of jail.”

  “You broke me out of jail because you have something to prove.”

  Her gaze flew to his, and she looked a little startled, probably because he’d pegged her. She didn’t like it, her expression going sulky. But she told the truth. He had to give her credit for that.

  “I’m here to get Richard free,” she admitted. “That’s first and foremost. If I prove something to somebody along the line, that’s great, but I’m going to carry out my mission.”

  “Sure, because you have all those skills from tracking down the high school audio/visual nerd and confiscating his bootleg copy of Girls Gone Wild.”

  “I haven’t let you down yet, have I? And when Richard is free I’m going to make sure you don’t go back to jail.”

  She took a deep breath, and he got the impression she was mentally squaring her shoulders. In actuality she came to hover behind him again, warm and fresh-smelling, and completely distracting.

  “If you’re done laughing at me, can we get back to business?”

  “Sure,” Cole said.

  He’d gotten into the FBI system without being kicked out or feeling like he was being tracked. He’d moved the money for the kidnappers, and he’d taken steps toward securing his own future. He had a full stomach and a beautiful woman draped over him, like the icing on the cake. He pulled Harmony into his lap.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.

  “Neither do I.” But he kissed her anyway, the rush of heat and pleasure no less incredible for being familiar. The way his heartbeat thundered in his ears, the feel of her mouth on his, her body a living flame he threw himself into—

  Until she tore herself out of his arms.

  It took a second or two for reality to batter its way past the need. The look on her face was a big help, not to mention she was staring at the door. Cole wasn’t sure he wanted to know why. But he turned slowly and there were Irene and Leo. The molding around the door was splintered, the door hanging on one hinge behind them, smashed in while he was lost in a sexual haze.

  Leo stationed himself in front of the opening, a Russian fireplug with one goal, to keep them from leaving, which he accomplished pretty handily.

  It was a typical motel room, with the door and a large window on one side, Leo and Irene effectively blocking both of them. A bed, a small round table, and a cheap dresser with a television on it completed the décor. There was a window in the bathroom, but Harmony couldn’t fit through it, let alone him. That left the table or TV, which he could throw and they would duck, and then laugh at him.

  “Irene and Leo,” Harmony said, edging ever so slightly away from him. Toward her gun, which she’d left on the other side of the table.

  Cole couldn’t believe the Russians were unaware of her intentions, but they did nothing to stop her.

  “Irina,” the woman corrected on her own behalf. She felt no need to perform the same service for Leo. It was probably hard enough to get him to answer to one name, let alone confusing him with another.

  “How did you find us?” Harmony wanted to know.

  “We have been following from the first,” Irina said. “At prison, monitoring police radios, in Pennsylvania, being talked to death,” she added with a slight sneer.

  “It was your choice to pick us up. Why didn’t you just kidnap us then? We were stuck in the backseat of your c
ar for hours.”

  Irina’s lip curled. She didn’t want to be reminded. “You lie to us about him.” She stabbed a finger at Cole.

  “Right, and what happened to your Southern drawl, which, by the way, wasn’t very convincing.”

  “It’s probably not a good idea to piss off the Russians,” Cole said.

  “If they wanted us dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Harmony told him, never taking her eyes off Irina. “But since we are, I have some questions. How did you find us again? We lost you back at Shawville.”

  Irina shrugged, looking smug since she’d remembered she had the upper hand again. “We split up. We know you are going to Los Angeles. We know you drive fancy car. Tulsa logical city to stop for night. Leo not so good at drive car, but he do it.”

  “Are you saying you just drove around until you found us?” Cole asked.

  “Da.”

  Damned car, Cole thought, trading a look with Harmony, and damn him for getting into an adolescent fever over it.

  “It’s not your fault,” Harmony said to him. “They haven’t pulled their weapons, so I’m guessing they have something to say.”

  Irina bumped up an eyebrow and nodded once, a sort of Russian touché. “We have come to make offer,” she said.

  Harmony was already shaking her head. “I’m not interested.”

  “Is not for you.” Irina jerked her head in Cole’s direction. “Is for him.”

  Harmony nearly gave herself whiplash, she looked at him so fast.

  Cole was just as surprised. “Me? Why?”

  “There is reason she break you out of jail.” Irina’s gaze shifted to the laptop on the table, then lifted to Cole’s again. “When we see you on television, when we have name, we find out how you break into FBI computer. She cannot get money without you. Is only reason to take risk.”

  “Did you miss the part where I wasn’t good enough to keep myself from getting caught and sent to jail in the first place?” Cole interjected. True, he’d been set up, but they didn’t need to know that. He didn’t like where the conversation was headed. And he really didn’t like that Harmony was still edging toward the shoulder holster she’d left on the table. If bullets started to fly, he’d be the only one unarmed. That had seemed okay a few days ago when he’d considered the consequences of getting caught in possession. It didn’t seem such a wise decision under these circumstances.