Chapter 124
Shane stood to the side, his expression challenging and devoid of all other emotion. It didn't look like he was going to offer a helping hand this time around. Well, she'd asked for it, though she hadn't thought he'd be able to cut off all his emotions like they were attached to a switch. She was Dominic Valentine's daughter. She could do anything she set her mind to.
Rachel held her breath and bent back into the car, careful not to touch the red stains that sat in liquid pools around the body. Marsh's briefcase lay open on the pa.s.senger seat and papers were scattered everywhere. All of them were splattered with blood. She made the mistake of looking at his face. His eyes were empty and stared straight at her, and his hair was matted with drying blood.
Rachel backed out of the car and collapsed to the ground, shoving her head between her knees as the little black dots began swimming in front of her eyes. She lost track of time as she tried to get herself under control, but she vaguely heard Shane sifting through papers, doing the job she should have been able to do.
"I don't see any envelopes," Shane said after a few minutes. "It looks like someone beat us to it, and now it's time for us to disappear."
Her stomach still felt queasy and she wasn't sure her legs would hold her if she tried to stand. "Shouldn't we call the police?"
"Not unless you want to go to jail. I wouldn't be surprised if this was a trap so we could be detained until your uncle's FBI insider can find us and do damage control. Get in the car."
Rachel let Shane help her to her feet and push her toward the Explorer. The sound of sirens was audible somewhere in the distance, and Shane didn't waste any time sticking around to find out.
Rachel barely had time to close her door and grab onto the door handle before Shane floored the Explorer. They sped down the narrow ramps at a neck-breaking pace and took the turns on two wheels. The squeal of tires echoed off the concrete walls, and they shot out of the garage onto the main road like a bullet out of a pistol.
The first squad car pulled into the garage, red and blue lights flas.h.i.+ng and siren blaring, just as they turned the corner.
"You're insane," Rachel said, trying to control her breathing.
"Hey, it's all part of the bodyguard package. You're still alive aren't you?"
It was obvious Shane was still angry about the comment she'd made earlier. And if she wasn't mistaken, he wasn't just angry. He was hurt.
"Look, I'm sorry if I seemed ungrateful back there. I know you were just trying to help, but I've been on my own for a long time. I'm not used to white knights charging to the rescue, and it's obvious you have this need to save and protect when someone's in trouble. I'll be the first to admit I was wrong back there. I wasn't prepared for it, and I didn't handle it like I thought I'd be able to."
"You did okay, Sugar. And I hate to disappoint you, but I'm n.o.body's white knight. Never have been. Never will be."
Rachel saw his jaw clench as he navigated them through the streets and back onto the highway. If she had dared to touch him, she knew he would have been cold as marble. What was going on in the mind of Shane Quincy? Was he really as heartless and detached as he wanted her to believe? She couldn't believe that she'd read him wrong after he'd risked his life saving her from the fire.
"Can we just agree that we're both approaching new territory and call a truce?" she finally said.
"Fine with me. I'd prefer to drop it if it's all the same to you. Marsh is dead, and as far as the list is concerned, it looks like we're on our way to Chicago," Shane said. "Unless you sent a copy to someone else."
"No one else has a copy."
Shane blew out a breath and smiled, his lips thin and hard. "Well, Sugar, it looks like we're about to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. And maybe we'll both come out alive."
"With an att.i.tude like that, Sugar," Rachel said with brow raised, "It's a wonder you have any clients at all."
Jimmy Grabbaldi waited until the dark green Explorer turned the corner before he started the engine of the nondescript, beige Volvo he'd gotten from the rental company. Angelo Valentine was not happy with Jimmy's performance so far, and Jimmy was already dreading his punishment. n.o.body screwed up Angelo Valentine's plans and got away with it. Not even one of his top men.
He'd lost Rachel and the private detective once they'd left New Orleans, and all he had to show for his efforts were sixteen st.i.tches in the side of his cheek where he'd been cut by a piece of flying brick after Rachel had shot at him. She was going to have to pay for that. His only option had been to head back to her apartment and wait until the scene was clear so he could do a little investigating of his own. And he'd hit pay dirt.
He'd immediately called Angelo and told him what had happened. The silence on the other end of the line had sent chills down his spine. Angelo Valentine could say a lot without uttering a word. Angelo had ordered him back to Chicago and was going to send a more competent person in his place, and that's when Jimmy had told him what he'd found in Rachel's apartment.
He'd gotten her phone off the nightstand and found the list of people she trusted enough to stay in contact with, even though she was in hiding. There had only been three contacts in her in her address book, two friends and her attorney, and Jimmy had relayed the information to Angelo with satisfaction. There was no doubt in Jimmy's mind that any acquaintances of Rachel's would be "taken care" of.
In exchange for the information Jimmy provided, Angelo decided to let him continue his search for Rachel. The FBI informant who was working on the inside for the Valentine organization had relayed the information that Rachel and her new boyfriend had been in contact with an attorney who had access to the list. Jimmy's new a.s.signment had been obvious, and he'd immediately headed to Dallas.
The freelance goons Angelo had hired had failed to kill Rachel and her boyfriend at the zoo, but Jimmy didn't worry too much about Rachel. Her time would come-just as Galen Marsh's had. Galen Marsh hadn't died with dignity. But more importantly, Marsh hadn't had a chance to give the list to Rachel.
Jimmy kept his eye on the Explorer in front of him as they merged into traffic on the highway headed north. He hit the speed dial on his phone and turned it on speaker.
"Mr. Grabbaldi. I hope you're calling me with good news." Angelo Valentine had the voice of a demon. It was the only thing Jimmy could think of as sweat pooled at the base of his neck and ran in rivulets down his temples. Angelo's voice was low and gravely due to a throat injury he'd suffered as a young man, but there was nothing weak about it.
"Yes, sir. I've picked up Rachel Valentine and her friend in Dallas just as the informant told you. They're headed north. I'll wait until they stop for the night
"Good, good. And what about the other little problem? I a.s.sume you had no problems with that job."
"Mr. Marsh is taken care of, sir, and the papers have been recovered."
"Excellent, Mr. Grabbaldi. Destroy them immediately. I may decide to let you live after all." There was a pause over the line and Jimmy could hear Angelo breathing. "Then again, maybe not."
"Yes, sir," Jimmy said as the spit dried up in his mouth, making it difficult to swallow.
"Don't let them get to Chicago, Mr. Grabbaldi. Rachel Valentine has another copy of the list somewhere. Don't fail me."
The line went dead and Jimmy deliberately relaxed his cramping fingers from around the steering wheel. Rachel Valentine was headed into Oklahoma. It was the quickest way to get across the border and lose the interest of any local law enforcement. He knew from experience that Rachel and her private detective would be stuck on a two lane road for hours. He'd have to be careful not to be seen.
Jimmy turned the radio on the cla.s.sical station to soothe his nerves and plan his future. He had a nice fat bank account in the Caymans, and he figured it was time for Jimmy Grabbaldi to retire. Killing Rachel Valentine would be his last job. He wasn't going to tempt fate and give Angelo the chance to change his mind about letting him live.
CHAPTER SIX.
Shane waited in the car and kept an eye on Rachel as she used a payphone to call her friends. By the agitated way she kept wrapping the phone cord around her wrist, it didn't look like she was having a lot of luck reaching them. If Angelo Valentine had put a hit out on Rachel's friends, Shane felt sure they didn't have much of a chance for survival. But he wasn't going to be the one to say so.
They were stopped at a gas station on the Texas/Oklahoma border. It was the last place to get gas for more than two hours, but Shane had another reason for stopping. He wanted to see if the beige sedan he'd spotted in his rearview mirror was really following them. Shane tried to get a good look at the driver, but the sedan motored past them without giving them a glance.
Rachel got back into the Explorer and Shane thought she looked close to tears. She'd had a rough twenty-four hours, and it wasn't over yet. Neither of them had slept and their clothes were torn and dirty.
"You can try to call them again once we find a place to stay for the night," Shane said.
"I know. It's just that they're clueless as to what I've gotten them involved in, and they have no way of protecting themselves. It was stupid of me not to cut all ties completely, but I couldn't face leaving everything and everyone I've ever known behind all at once."
Her words struck a chord with Shane. Isn't that exactly what he'd done after his wife had died and he'd left the FBI? He hadn't spoken to any of his friends since the funeral. Wildcat, Dixon, Cutter, Jax, Doc and Merlin-men who had guarded his back and been there for him in the toughest of times. He'd turned his back on them all. He'd packed up his meager belongings and left Was.h.i.+ngton without looking back. He'd picked New Orleans simply by closing his eyes and pointing to a place on the map. Guilt and shame crept its way over him and he promised himself then and there that he'd make amends as soon as Rachel Valentine was safe.
It was full dark as they crossed the border and headed north through Oklahoma. The silence was heavy, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Shane figured it would be close to midnight by the time they reached Tulsa. It was the closest city he knew of that would have a place to eat and an available motel. It was risky stopping for the night, but Rachel couldn't go on much longer. And even though he could go on as long as the mission required, sleep and food would fuel his body and keep him alert.
"Did you get in touch with your FBI friend?" Rachel asked, breaking the silence.
That was another reason Shane had wanted to stop before they entered a new state. He knew his calls to Jones Daugherty at FBI Headquarters in Chicago would be traced. And he'd been right. He'd heard the clicks on the other end of the line that told him the call was being traced, and as soon as Wildcat had come on the line the conversation had been short and sweet.
"Yeah, I used the payphone while you were in the bathroom. Jones gave me a private number to call as soon as we get to a place I can talk for awhile. He could tell I was in a hurry and needed to get off the line before they could pinpoint a location."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure you can trust this guy? How do you know he isn't the informant working on the inside for Uncle Angelo?"
"Some things you just know. Wildcat has saved my life on more than one occasion and I've saved his. I'd trust him with my life and yours, too. He's good people."
"I guess that's good enough for me," she said.
"Why don't you try to get some sleep," Shane said. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."
"Are you kidding me? As soon as we crossed the border into Oklahoma I've felt like we were in that movie."
"Lost Highway?"
"No, Deliverance. I haven't seen a town, a streetlight, a restaurant or another car for hours. It's like we've entered into the Twilight Zone. And I don't mean to be a pest, but I haven't eaten anything since lunch and I'm starving. I know you're a macho tough guy and could probably sustain yourself by picking gra.s.s from the side of the road, but us weaklings have to have real sustenance."
"Like a cheeseburger?" Shane asked, laughing as her stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly.
"Yeah, a cheeseburger would be good."
"We'll be in Tulsa before too long. We can stop there and grab a bite to eat before bunking down for the night."
Shane settled back into comfortable silence and looked out into the night. He'd been all over the world, and it always amazed him to see how different the sky looked. He'd been in third world countries and drug-run jungles, but he'd never seen a sky as black as the one over him right now. No stars shone in the sky and the moon was just a sliver of pale dust. The land wasn't cluttered with modern technology-no oil wells, power lines, self-service gas stations or cell phone service. It was just open, empty land.
Almost an hour had pa.s.sed in silence when Rachel sat up in her seat and squealed. It wasn't a sound he'd heard before, and he was already checking the rearview mirror and increasing their speed, his gun clutched comfortably in his right hand while he searched for danger.
"Oh, my G.o.d," she said, pulling on his s.h.i.+rt sleeve like a child. "Do you see it?"
"See what?" he asked, wondering if she was hallucinating because of lack of sleep.
"The lights. All the glorious lights," she said. "Stay with me, Quincy. The lights mean there's civilization-food, a shower, a soft bed. Don't tell me you're not excited about the prospects that lie ahead of us. Tulsa is my new favorite city."
Shane didn't want to think about Rachel Valentine and a soft bed in the same sentence together. Which posed another problem. How the h.e.l.l he was going to share a room with her? Even after everything she'd been through in the last twenty-four hours, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He had it bad.
"Step on it man. Your client is hungry and in need of a shower. And you did say you always try to please the client."
"Yes, maam," Shane said. He was lighter of heart than he'd been in a long time, and it was all because he was on the run from a madman with a woman he was afraid he could fall in love with. It was fortunate he had no plans to go down that path, or he'd be in real trouble.
Rachel's stomach rumbled again as Shane pulled into the lot of a twenty-four hour diner attached to what could at best be called a "seedy" motel-minus the "M." Jake's otel was as basic as you could get. It was a rectangle of sandy-colored, crumbling brick trimmed with turquoise paint. There were two floors and twenty-four rooms with stairs at each end, and each room had one window. A soft drink machine sat in the middle of the sidewalk with an "out of order" sign taped to it.
"You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Quincy."
"That's what they tell me. But this will have to do until Jones can supply me with some more cash."
"My eyes are going to be closed anyway, so it's not like I'll actually see the roaches crawling around on the floor."
"That's the spirit," he said.
They got out of the Explorer and headed toward the diner. "It's getting colder," Rachel said, rubbing her bare arms.
The wind had picked up and the air smelled of ozone. Static lay heavy in the air. "Looks like we'll get a thunderstorm before the night's over. I hope Jake's otel can handle a little rain."
The diner was empty when they went inside. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead and cracked vinyl booths with scarred Formica tabletops lined the walls. The floor was black and white checked squares, dingy with what looked liked years of scuff marks and soda spills.
A lone waitress with bottle thick gla.s.ses and permed brown hair that frizzed away from her face sat perched on a stool behind the register. Her age was somewhere between thirty-five and sixty-five. The lights weren't flattering. She was doing a crossword puzzle and gave them no more than a cursory glance when they entered. Her sigh of annoyance could be heard all over the restaurant.
"How you folks doin' tonight," she said as she grabbed a couple of greasy menus and led them to a corner booth.
"Fine, thank you," Rachel said politely.
"The name's Nadine. Coffee's fresh and bottomless if you want it. Or we got other stuff."
"Coffee's fine with me," Shane answered.
"Just water for me," Rachel said. "And I already know I want the biggest cheeseburger you have with a side of fries."
"Make that two," Shane said, before the waitress had a chance to lay the greasy menu in front of him.
"Comin' right out, folks," Nadine said and shuffled away.
"I'm going to wash up in the bathroom and see if I can find a phone to use," Rachel said. "I won't rest easy until I get in touch Cleo and Randy and know they're safe."
Shane waited until she disappeared and moved to a position where he could see both the bathroom and the front doors. The parking lot was still empty other than the green Explorer, but he didn't want t take any chances. He pulled out a slip of paper from his wallet that held the number Jones had given him earlier that evening and he used one of the disposable cell phones.
"What the h.e.l.l have you gotten involved in, Ace?" Jones Daugherty asked as he came on the line. Ace had been Shane's nickname in the Marines because of his ability to hit his target with complete accuracy.
"You're name's come up with a red flag all over the FBI. Word has it your apartment building was torched, your business was destroyed and you're wanted for questioning as a person of interest in the murder of a high profile attorney in Dallas. And all because of a woman. Sounds like you should have stayed in the FBI. Going independent has obviously made you forget how to follow the rules."
"Yeah, well, you shouldn't listen to gossip. And I was never that good at following rules, anyway."
"I know that better than anyone," Jones said with a laugh.
"As far as what you've heard, my apartment wasn't damaged in the fire, it was my neighbor's. Insurance will cover the damage to my business and somebody else had already killed the lawyer before we got there. But I can confirm a hundred percent that it all happened because of a woman."
"Tell me," Wildcat ordered.
"Rachel Valentine is in my protection, and let's just say that her uncle doesn't think that's such a good idea. And after our trip to Dallas, I'm beginning to think someone in the FBI doesn't think it's such a good idea either."
Nothing but silence greeted Shane from the other end. "You still there, Wildcat?"
"I've done an internal investigation on every agent in the Bureau who was ever involved with the Valentines. You know how big that list is. You were on the original task force."
Shane winced. "Don't remind me."
"I've found no evidence that there's someone working for Angelo Valentine on the inside. And believe me, I've looked. I've looked hard."
"Just keep your eyes open."
"Roger, that. Where are you now?"