Chapter 123
"Good point," he acknowledged. "I need to make a call to someone at the FBI and see if he has any information that could be of use to us. I need to know who to contact once we make it to Chicago. The zoo is always crowded, there are plenty of places to get lost if we need to, and do you see all of these towers surrounding us? They'll confuse the phone signal and give us a little extra time to get away if someone's listening in on my conversation."
"Do you think we lost the guy who shot at us in New Orleans?"
"I haven't noticed anyone tailing us, but it never hurts to be careful. I would never underestimate anyone who works for your family. They are professional and persistent."
"You seem to know a lot about my family."
Shane kept his face blank while wis.h.i.+ng he could kick his own a.s.s. It was in everyone's best interest for Rachel to never find out how well he knew the major players in her father's organization. "Everyone who has ever worked for the FBI knows something about your family," he hedged. He took her hand and led her into the zoo. "From what you told me about the conversation with your attorney, they could already have Marsh's phones tapped. Stay alert. If it is your uncle behind the attacks you might recognize someone."
"Doubtful. My father had more than two hundred employees, but I would bet that my Uncle Angelo has moved his own men up in the ranks. Just to ensure loyalty. It's what I would do."
They found a shaded spot near the elephants that was relatively quiet, and Shane pulled out one of the disposable cell phones. He dialed a number that had a few too many digits and waited as he was connected to Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.
"I need to speak with Director Boyle. Tell him Shane Quincy is on the line."
"So the prodigal son returns," Harlan Boyle said after a few minutes. His voice was dark and rich like expensive chocolate, and a hint of the south still lingered no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it. "I knew you'd come back, boy. A man like you isn't meant to sit behind a desk."
Shane felt comfort in his old supervisor's words because he knew they were sincere. It hadn't been Harlan Boyle's fault that Shane's last job had turned into his own personal h.e.l.l. Harlan Boyle had only been Deputy Director at the time. "Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but the desk suits me well."
"Doubtful, but I'll let you have your illusions. To what do I owe the honor of this phone call?"
"I have information on the Dominic Valentine situation. I need to know who the contact is in the Chicago office."
Director Boyle let out a low whistle. "That's a pie you don't want to stick your fingers in, son. People have a tendency to disappear when they know too much about the Valentines."
Shane glanced and Rachel out of the corner of his eye. Her dark head was tilted back against a shade tree, her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and even. He would have thought she was asleep except for the way her hands were clamped together in a white-knuckled grip.
"I know, sir. But sometimes you just have to do what's right. I've got information that could potentially save a lot of people and a witness I'm trying to protect. There are very few people I can trust right now."
"I guess I should be flattered I'm on the short list," Harlan said. "But I'd prefer you not tell anyone you got the information from me. Director Shaw runs the Chicago office, and Special Agent Culver was one of his men. Shaw wasn't too happy to find Culver practically decapitated and fed to the fishes, and he's lost two other agents since then. You can imagine why no one works too hard to find where Dominic Valentine and his infamous list ended up."
"You think there's a leak on the inside?"
"They haven't found any evidence to prove it, and believe me, they've looked. I believe the agent who headed up the internal investigation is a buddy of yours. Jones Daugherty."
"You're kidding me? He's working IA?" Shane was speechless. Jones "Wildcat" Daugherty had been the team leader of the Alpha Squadron, a unit of seven men specialized in taking down terrorists. The Alpha Squadron had done two tours in Iraq together, but Shane had lost touch with everyone he'd served with after he'd left the FBI. The last he'd heard, Wildcat was climbing up the military career ladder.
"I can't see Wildcat Daugherty working for the FBI. Talk about someone who shouldn't be sitting behind a desk."
"Word around the Bureau is that he's d.a.m.ned good at it," Harlan said. "He's cleaned up a lot of messes in just a few months, but the Valentine situation isn't one of them."
"Thanks for the information, sir. I owe you one."
"I've got a job here for you whenever you're ready to come back."
"I don't owe you that much," Shane said with a laugh and hung up.
"Did you get the information you needed?" Rachel asked.
"Some of it. I don't want to make contact with the Chicago office until we're on the move again." Shane stood and stretched his muscles. He grabbed Rachel by the hand and pulled her into his arms, rubbing the knotted muscles at her shoulders.
"I don't mean to tell you how to do your job," she said, "but there's a man in a hat over there who seems awfully interested in us."
Shane pulled her closer so it looked as if they were embracing and whispered in her ear. "Yeah, it took him about five minutes to find us after I called my old headquarters."
"I thought the towers were supposed to give us a little time."
"Theoretically. But I know for sure now that Angelo has a plant inside the FBI. There's no other way they could have tracked us that fast otherwise."
"What are we going to do?" Rachel asked.
Shane took advantage of their situation by nipping lightly at her ear. She sucked in an unsteady breath, and he felt her quiver in his arms. "We're going to head to the food court and maybe check out a couple of those souvenir shops. Don't look at him and don't lose your cool. There's probably another man by the front gate."
A rush of adrenaline shot through his system, but he tamped it down. It was what he missed most about his previous jobs-the chase, the thrill of excitement and the chance that only one man would be left standing in the end. Shane grabbed Rachel by the hand and they strolled to the food court, stopping to grab an ice cream on the way.
Shane picked up another follower out of the corner of his eye and squeezed Rachel's hand when she started to turn and look at him. "You've only got eyes for me, Sugar."
"That's a h.e.l.l of an ego you have."
"I'll be glad to back it up once we get out of here."
The sun was s.h.i.+ning and Shane thought it was probably close to eighty degrees outside, but both men wore lightweight jackets to cover their shoulder holsters. Not good. The last thing he wanted to do was give them reason to open fire in such
Shane spotted several souvenir shops that were overrun with tour groups, and he gently pushed Rachel into the crowd. The air was cool inside the shops and sent chills over his sweat slicked skin. Tables were filled to overflowing with t-s.h.i.+rts and knick-knacks, so he took his cap off and put it on a display table and replaced it with a straw hat, hoping it would buy them some time. He didn't stop to look over his shoulder, though the itch at the back of his neck had turned into a burn. Shane picked up the pace when he saw an employee entrance behind one of the souvenir shops that led to a parking lot, and he kept Rachel in front of him, protecting her body with his own.
People scrambled and screams filled the air as the first sound of gunfire rang out behind him.
"Go, go!" he yelled to Rachel. "Stay low."
Wood splintered above Shane's head and a splinter sliced his cheek. Blood dripped steadily down his face, but he ignored it and kept his eye on the prize-a way out and their only chance for survival. He knocked over tables as he pa.s.sed them and souvenirs littered the aisles.
Shane and Rachel pushed through the door at the back of the shop and the bright sun left tiny spots dancing in front of his eyes, but they forged ahead, adrenaline and instinct taking over. Another shot rang out and chips of concrete exploded in a cloud of dust at their feet.
"Almost there," Shane said, eyeing the gate of chain link that led into the employee parking lot at the back of the zoo. Sirens roared in the distance, overpowering the screams and sobs of the crowd behind him. Rachel ran full force into the gate and it swung open with a violent clang of metal hitting metal. The gate crashed behind him and he knew the men were hot on their heels.
"Keep running. Don't look back," he said to Rachel.
Shane hovered his body over hers and pushed her between a row of parked cars, forcing them both to their knees on the hot pavement. Rachel's breath was labored and her eyes were wide with fear, but she was hanging in there. Shane pulled a snub-nosed revolver from his ankle holster and listened as the footsteps of the men in pursuit slowed. There were still just two men, and Shane heard them split up so they could cover more ground.
The seconds ticking by seemed like hours and he knew there would only be a short window of opportunity for them to escape. He and Rachel crawled between the cars, listening as the footsteps drifted closer, then farther away as the men crept up and down each aisle.
Shane slipped a small, thin tool from his pocket and went to work on the silver Taurus they were hiding beside. The lock snicked and he opened the door softly, pus.h.i.+ng Rachel across the seat to the pa.s.senger side and then following her inside. He pushed her down, so she was hunkered on the floorboard, and he removed the plastic panel from the underside of the steering wheel.
The footsteps were getting closer again and sweat snaked down his spine as he touched bare wires together. The car rumbled to life and he pushed down on the accelerator. Tires squealed and the smell of burned rubber was overpowering as he shot out of the parking s.p.a.ce. A bullet pinged off the back b.u.mper and then another shattered a taillight. Shane pulled the drivers side door shut and sat up slowly as he put more s.p.a.ce between them and the gunmen. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the men slow to a stop. One of them already had a cell phone in his hand, probably relaying the license plate of the car they'd stolen.
Rachel sat up in her seat and calmly fastened her seatbelt once they were back on the highway. "I guess we're going to be a few minutes late meeting Mr. Marsh."
Shane looked over at her. Her hair was mussed, her clothes were torn and there was dirt smeared on the side of her face, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that told him she was glad to be alive. He pulled the car to the side of the road and pulled her into his arms before he could think better of it. He took her lips in a scorching kiss and fought for control over his body as he felt her melt against him, accepting him. Shane pushed her away from him before he lost it completely and pulled back into traffic.
"You're a h.e.l.l of a woman, Rachel Valentine."
CHAPTER FIVE.
Dusk was slowly creeping over the city by the time they'd found another vehicle. Smog was thick and glowed an eerie orange haze as the last rays of light disappeared. They'd found a green Ford Explorer in an overnight parking garage and taken it as a sign of luck. Traffic was congested as they wove their way down one-way streets and between skysc.r.a.pers, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as they got closer to her goal and freedom.
She'd had eight months to decide what she could do with her life once the axe hanging over her head had disappeared. New Orleans had felt like home from the moment she'd entered the city, and she knew it's where she would return. Maybe she'd even open her own design business. But those dreams were still a lifetime away.
"I had to leave the bag with my weapons and most of the money in the pickup truck," Shane said, disturbing her private thoughts. The more she was around Shane Quincy, the more disturbing he became. He was an odd combination-all male, potently virile in a way that made women gravitate towards him, and his protective instincts only enhanced his appeal. But though those traits were attractive to Rachel, they weren't the ones that made her want to open herself to Shane Quincy like she had to no other man. He was wounded, a tortured soul, and Rachel recognized the symptoms in Shane only because she lived with them in herself.
"Did you hear me?" he asked. "We have little money and no guns."
"I have a feeling you're trying to tell me something," Rachel said finally giving him her full attention.
"I'm telling you we have to get where we're going on the money I have in my pocket, or until I can get in touch with my friend and have him meet me with a few necessities. I don't want to take the chance of being seen by going back to the zoo and trying to retrieve the bag, and I especially don't want to bodyguard my client with a p.i.s.s-ant.22 and six bullets."
"No, that doesn't really inspire a lot of confidence. Can't you have your office send you the things you need?"
"Anything they send can be easily traced. I've got good security, but people will be watching my office closely since your pal shot the h.e.l.l out of it. My old squadron leader from the Marines will get us everything we need without alerting anyone."
The Explorer turned right at a stoplight and pa.s.sed the offices of Decker and Marsh.
"There's the parking garage," Rachel pointed out. She looked at the clock on the dash and noticed it was past six o'clock. "I hope he's still waiting. He's not the most patient man, especially where I'm concerned."
"Looks like everyone has cleared out for the evening," Shane said.
The Explorer turned into the parking garage, and Rachel saw nothing but concrete and empty parking s.p.a.ces. Thick pillars sat parallel to each other like stone soldiers as they drove up the ramps to each level.
"Dammit, why does he have to be so difficult? Would it have killed him to wait half and hour? I don't know how to get in touch with him out of the office. His home and cell number are in my phone back in New Orleans."
"Well, h.e.l.l. That is a problem, Sugar."
Rachel watched as Shane unhooked the.22 from his ankle rig and put it on the console between them. "What's wrong? I don't see anyone following us."
They climbed higher. The shadows grew darker and dread settled in the pit of Rachel's stomach. There were too many places for one man to hide.
"It's my fault. I've been a little busy since your apartment caught fire yesterday, and I didn't ask all the questions I should have before we started out together. I guarantee whoever shot at us in New Orleans has already searched what's left of your apartment. They'll have your cell phone and any personal contacts you had in it, and they'll be searching for them."
"Oh my G.o.d, what have I done? I don't have many people's information in my phone because I don't have that many close friends, but my roommate from college and a friend who had the apartment across from mine in Chicago are in there. I have to call them and warn them."
"As soon as we get out of here," Shane promised.
Her Uncle Angelo was ruthless, and she prayed it wasn't too late to save Cleo and Randy's lives. Angelo would leave no stone unturned until he had what he wanted.
They reached the top level of the parking garage and a lone black Mercedes was parked in the corner. The lights were dim and yellow and the Explorer's engine seemed excessively loud in the quiet.
"I don't know what kind of car he drives," Rachel said.
"Only one way to find out."
They parked the Explorer cross-wise behind the Mercedes so they still had easy access to the exit.
"Leave your door open. Just in case," he told her.
Rachel got out of the car and met Shane around the other side. The.22 was down at his side and his expression was grim. When she looked at the car she understood why. Splatters of blood patterned across the winds.h.i.+eld, and a body was hunched over the wheel.
It was a lot of blood.
"Stay back," Shane said and moved in front of her.
Rachel appreciated the gesture, but now wasn't the time to get squeamish. Now was the time to find the papers and get the h.e.l.l out of Dodge. "That's him," she said as she walked around the car to get a better look at the victim's face.
"Dammit, Rachel. I told you to stay back."
"So I have to make you mad before you use my name instead of calling me Sugar. Something I'll have to remember for the future. Let's get something straight, b.u.t.tercup. I've hired you to protect my life, not my sensibilities. We have more important things to worry about besides whether or not I lose my lunch. I've got to find those papers."
"Whatever you say," Shane said, putting his hands up. "I always try to accommodate the client, since you're the one paying the bills."
Rachel couldn't help making him angry. It was better than breaking down in front of him and crying her eyes out, which is exactly what she wanted to do. She might be Dominic Valentine's daughter, but this was the first dead body she'd ever seen. And she hoped it would be the last.
"His briefcase is open on the pa.s.senger seat." Rachel reached for the door handle.
"Don't touch anything," Shane said tersely.
Rachel jerked her hand away from the door handle, surprised by the hardness in Shane's voice. She watched as he went back to the Explorer and dug around until he found a couple of tissues in the glove compartment.
"Thanks," she said as she took one from him. "I wasn't thinking about fingerprints."
"That's why you pay me the big bucks, Sugar. We don't want to give local law enforcement a reason to look for us. If the FBI got wind of it, it would make things very difficult for the rest of our trip."
"Right. Because so far things have been a breeze," Rachel said testily. She was hurt by the harshness of his words and knew it was only a matter of time before she couldn't pretend that the sight of Galen Marsh didn't bother her. She used the tissue to open the door handle and found it unlocked.
The stench of death a.s.saulted her as soon as she opened the door, and she held her arm in front of her mouth and nose to try and lessen it. But the cloying smell lingered in the back of her throat, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it. She stepped back from the car and took a deep breath, focusing on what she had to do next.