Chapter 170
"Okay, maybe you're right, this is all my fault," he ground out. "But you can't go around firing bullets every time somebody p.i.s.ses you off."
She sighed. "If we want to stay alive we're going to have to play by our rules."
Neither of them said a word after that.
For the next fifteen minutes they watched the desert sweep by in a blur. It wasn't long before they reached town. Jack pulled into the parking lot of a K-Mart. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and counted his money. "We have one hundred and sixty-two dollars. We're going to have to make it last until we figure out what to do next."
Kate shuffled through her bag and found Ben Sheldon's wallet. Inside the leather tri-fold were five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. "Make that six hundred and sixty-two dollars."
Jack reached over her, his hand brus.h.i.+ng against her leg as he opened the glove box, searching for something to write on. He s.n.a.t.c.hed a pen from the compartment between the seats and proceeded to make a grocery list.
A strange sensation washed over Kate, a sense of normalcy, as if they were a regular everyday couple running to the store to pick up a few things. As if she knew what normal was. She shook her head at her wayward thinking.
When Jack finished writing, he looked at her. "Are you okay?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I guess I just wish it could have been different for you." He reached out a hand and brushed loose strands of hair from her eyes. "I wanted to bring you back to the States and help you, not make things more difficult."
"It's not your fault." She took the list. "You stay here and I'll get what we need. People would take one look at you and call the police." She leaned into him so she could take a look at herself in the rearview mirror. She combed her fingers through her hair before turning to face him. Another hot wave swept through her belly. Being close to Jack Coffey made her wish he would take her in his arms and make her forget what they were running from. She lifted her chin. "How do I look?"
"Like a million bucks."
She smiled and scooted back to her own seat.
"You might want to leave the gun and the knives behind," he said.
She placed her weapons on the floor and waved the list between them. "Anything else?"
"Toothbrush...toothpaste. Shampoo and Advil. Let's see, another T-s.h.i.+rt." He pointed to the list. "And a few other things I wrote down. That should do it. There's a hotel a few miles from the strip called Pete's Palace," he said. "They have rooms for cheap. We'll go there, get cleaned up, and figure out what to do next."
Kate opened the car door and climbed out.
"One more thing," Jack said.
She stuck her head back inside. "What is it?"
Taking a tissue from the box between the seats, he touched the tissue to his tongue and used it to wipe a smudge of dirt from her forehead. When he finished, he said, "Be careful."
"I always am." She turned and headed for the entrance.
The automatic doors swept open and Kate stepped inside. The cool air hit her face the moment she entered, shocking her and making her feel as if she'd stepped into another world. A kaleidoscope of colors and shapes bombarded her senses, making her dizzy.
It took her a moment to figure out what to do. An elderly woman grabbed a cart. Kate did the same and followed the woman down the first aisle, watching to see what items the woman might select. Kate's fingers clamped tightly around the metal bar as hazy images of her mother lifting her into a grocery cart flooded her mind. She hadn't thought of her mother in years. Had her mother's eyes been blue or green? She couldn't remember. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed onward, determined to get through the d.a.m.n store without falling to pieces.
The sheer number of items to choose from was overwhelming. She went in search of Advil and hair dye, certain that all eyes were on her, watching her every move.
She found scissors, a hairbrush, and a tube of lipstick and threw it all in the cart. "Pucker your lips...like this," she heard Mom say. She watched her mother lean toward her, felt the coolness of her mother's fingers on her chin as she tilted her head upward. Kate blinked. Her mother was gone. The same woman who had entered the store before her was watching her now. Kate left that aisle and headed down the main corridor until she found the food aisle. She tossed snacks and water bottles into the cart. A light yellow sundress with matching sandals for $9.99 caught her eye, and she threw them both into the cart along with a three pack of T-s.h.i.+rts and a few pair of underwear. Briefs for him, lacey panties for her.
Her cart was full by the time she headed for the check-out stands. The cas.h.i.+er told her she owed eighty-three dollars and fifty-four cents. Reluctantly, she handed over a crisp hundred-dollar bill. The man held the bill to the light before he turned toward the cash register to gather her change. "Do I know you?" he asked.
"No."
He shut the cash drawer. His dark eyes bore into her. His thick fingers remained curled around her change, despite the fact she'd been holding her hand out, palm up, for too long.
"I've seen your face before. Sure you're not somebody famous?"
"I'm sure. Could you give me my change? I'm in a hurry."
He chuckled, his bug-eyes twinkling as if they were playing a fun little game. He wagged a finger in front of her face. "Patience is a virtue," he said.
Kate fidgeted. She didn't like the feeling that washed over her and made her feel like everyone in the place was watching her. She drew in a breath and waited, refusing to let her temper get the best of her. This wasn't Haiti anymore. She needed to learn to relax a little and think before acting.
The woman in line behind her let out a ponderous sigh, showing her displeasure at having to wait so long and prompting the cas.h.i.+er to drop Kate's money onto the counter. Kate scooped up her change and her groceries and left.
As soon as she exited the store, Jack pulled the car up against the curb. She loaded the groceries into the backseat and then slid into the pa.s.senger seat. Jack left the parking lot and merged into traffic. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
He glanced her way. "You're shaking. What happened back there?"
"I don't belong here." She looked straight ahead, hardly blinked. She felt hollow...empty.
Jack kept his eyes on the road as he talked. "It's perfectly natural that you might feel out of place. You've been gone for a long time. But it's
Kate looked his way. "How can you be so optimistic all the time? You're on the Ten Most Wanted list for a murder you had nothing to do with."
"Getting upset about it won't help matters."
She continued to stare at him. "I can't figure you out. Who are you? Who are you really?"
He downs.h.i.+fted and stopped at a red light. "I'm just a regular guy. Jack Coffey, a thirty-two year old man who's been dealt a pretty good hand up until recently. I believe in justice, the American way, and that all things happen for a reason." He shot her a quick glance, but the light turned green and he was forced to keep his eyes on the road. "I think of life as a challenge, every day a new adventure. And it doesn't take crash-landing a plane to get my adrenaline soaring. The taste of fine wine, good sus.h.i.+, or spending time with the right woman works just as well."
"Jack Coffey in a nutsh.e.l.l, huh?"
"Pretty much."
"Why do I sense there's more to you than fine wine and sus.h.i.+?"
The lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Because you're a woman and women see and feel things that men can't even begin to comprehend."
She hissed. "That's such a copout."
He laughed.
Kate couldn't remember the last time she'd actually had a conversation with a man. It was interesting...nice. Although Jack claimed to be a simple man who enjoyed the little things in life, something told her he was more complicated than he liked people to believe. The fact that she was softening toward Coffey made her question her judgment. Jack was honest and straitlaced, too much so. But he had his limits. The thought of him dangling Charlie out the window was a good example. For the most part, he seemed to be cool and even-tempered. Not once had she seen him panic during his short stint as a pilot. Above all else, more than his lean, lithe body and good looks, the thing that rattled her about him most was his kindness.
Kate went back to staring at the road ahead of her. Jack Coffey was getting under her skin, making her feel things she didn't want to feel. Although a part of her wanted to relax, wanted to let Jack handle things for a while, a bigger part of her, the part that couldn't let go of her father's image before he'd died, refused to allow her to let her guard down. She needed to remember why she was here and she needed to stay focused.
After a good night's rest, she decided, she'd head off on her own. She didn't need the complication of caring about someone else right now. She'd vowed long ago to avenge her father's death, and n.o.body, including Jack Coffey, was going to stop her.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
If A.J. had his way, he and Becky would have left the fundraiser an hour after they arrived, but he kept reminding himself that this was Becky's night. How many times was he going to get all decked out in a tuxedo, rented or otherwise, and take her to the Biltmore for caviar and expensive champagne? Sadly, the probability of it ever happening again was slim to none. But what did he care? He'd much rather be doing the tango in Becky's bedroom. Never mind that she'd put his sultry moves and fancy footwork to shame earlier tonight. That hadn't stopped him from working on bettering his posture and hip movement. There were three things about doing the tango in bed that intrigued him: it was challenging, fun, and it took two.
Upon re-entering the ballroom, he found Becky missing from the spot where he left her before he went in search of the men's room. He scanned the ballroom, surprised to see his boss, Michael Harrison, chatting with Patrick Monahan. That in itself wouldn't have struck him as odd had it been anyone other than Monahan. Monahan was the low guy on the totem pole in the FBI's Computer Division. Not to mention, an odd duck. A man of so few words, he would have made Helen Keller seem chatty in comparison. And yet Harrison leaned close while Monahan burned a hole in his ear.
Becky waved a hand in the air, catching his eye.
Clearly, she was the most adorable woman in the room. Harrison's wife, Sheila, an ex-Playmate, stood next to Becky. An unfortunate happenstance for Sheila considering Becky's fresh, healthy just-had-s.e.x glow would make the Hope Diamond look dull tonight. G.o.d, he was lucky.
"Hey, there you are," he said to Becky as he approached the women.
"You remember Sheila," Becky said, smiling.
"I do," he said, sparing the other woman a glance.
"Congratulations on your engagement," Sheila said. "You're a very lucky man."
"Luckiest man alive." He turned back to Becky, took her hand in his, and brought her knuckles to his lips. "I'm going to say goodnight to Harrison and then we'll head home if you're ready."
"I am a little tired," Becky admitted, rehea.r.s.ed code for 'get me the h.e.l.l out of here.' She was a night owl, and the twinkle in her eye when she'd said the word 'tired' told him he was in for a gloriously long night.
He said goodbye to Sheila. Looking over his shoulder, he winked at Becky before heading off to see what Harrison and Monahan were up to. As soon as Monahan saw him heading their way, he sidestepped, clamped his hands behind his back, and feigned interest in the ballroom's ambiance.
Not one to mince words or beat around the bush, A.J. said, "What are you two conspiring about?"
Nonplussed, Harrison smiled and said, "Patrick was just telling me a bit about your lovely fiancee."
When Harrison failed to elaborate, A.J. c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Monahan. "And what exactly do you know about Becky?"
Monahan's Adam's apple bobbed. Clearly Harrison was lying through his straight white teeth and Monahan had been caught off guard by Harrison's lie. "Just that she seems like a nice girl," Monahan managed.
Monahan was about as personable as Scrooge on Christmas Eve. "So, what's the latest on Jack?" A.J. asked next.
That particular question appeared to cause Harrison to stumble slightly. He cleared his throat in order to regain his composure. "Have you talked to Jack?"
"You know I haven't."
"How would I know that, Hanson?"
Because the wiring of an agent's cubicle would require your approval, sir. A.J. kept his thoughts to himself and released a bit of hot air through his teeth instead. "Listen. Let's not play games here. Jack's a good guy. I know that. You know that. We all know that. But somebody has set the man up, and I, for one, don't like it."
"Jack Coffey was the last person to see Dr. Harold Forstin alive," Monahan chimed in.
"Your friend is in serious trouble," Harrison added. "That's all there is to it. So don't climb up on your high horse and pretend you don't know as well as the rest of us that sometimes good people do bad things. It's the way it is. Always has been, always will be." Harrison straightened his bow tie. "Don't worry, Hanson. Justice will prevail. It always does."
Pete's Palace at the end of the Vegas strip was showing its age. The landscaping left a lot to be desired with its dirty swimming pool and dead lawn. Beer bottles lined the dark unlit hallways. The place was deserted.
Jack slid his key into the rusty k.n.o.b and opened the door to their room. Even in the dark it was hard to miss the ugly red carpet and the uneven patches of fungus on the walls. The room smelled like moldy cheese.
Jack had checked them into the hotel under the name Mr. and Mrs. Tom Peterson. While Kate looked over her purchases, he took a quick shower and rewrapped his side.
Kate was asleep by the time he left for the casino to leave a message for Harrison, telling his boss to meet him at the blackjack tables inside Caesar's tomorrow at noon.
The more time Jack had to think about the mess he was in, the angrier he got. He was on the FBI's Most Wanted list. He'd spent most of his adult life fighting crime and injustice. h.e.l.l, he'd spent most of his childhood doing the same thing... in the cla.s.sroom or on the playground to stick up for the underdog. And where had it gotten him? Las Vegas...running for his life, wanted for a murder he didn't commit. He shoved a handful of coins into the telephone. Four rings sounded before he heard a click and then his mother's voice. "h.e.l.lo."
"Mom, it's me."
"Jack! Oh, thank goodness!"
"I'm sorry about this mess. I didn't murder anyone. I needed to call you and tell you that much."
"We know that. We love you."
There was a scuffle before his dad's voice came on the line. "Stay low, Jack. Get out of Dodge, if you know what I mean."
Jack heard voices in the background. The Feds were there. He had hoped they would leave his elderly parents out of this mess. "Are you and Mom okay?"
"We're fine. You take care, son. We know you're innocent."
"Don't hang up! We're trying to get-"
His dad hung up the phone.
Jack listened to the dial tone for a moment. He shut his eyes, breathed in slowly and counted to five. His parents had been through enough; their young daughter taken from her bed while they slept...and now their son was wanted for murder.
Sadly, it had taken being framed for murder for Jack to be able to relate to what Kate must be going through. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Kate had spent the last ten years hiding, plotting, planning. For what? And why?
Jack could hardly handle a few days of this crazy game, let alone ten years. Knowing he had zero control over the situation was maddening. Who could he trust? Harrison? A.J.? Suddenly, everybody he knew was a stranger. The thought left a hollow pit in his gut. He'd set out all those years ago to make a difference, right a few wrongs, make the bad guys pay for their wrongful deeds. He'd worked nights and even weekends. And this is where it got him? Wanted for murder and running for his life? Framed by a couple of crazies who thought they could kick him around?
Not if he had anything to say about it.
With a new determination pumping through his veins, Jack headed past the hotel reservation desk. He found a lounge area where rows of computers were set up for guests of the hotel.
He was taking matters into his own hands. He was going to find out who was playing around with his future. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Heads were going to roll. Hacking into the Internet was as easy as one-two-three. Using an anonymous user name, he sent A.J. a cryptic message, letting him know where he was and telling his friend he could use some help. It took him a little longer to gather enough of Harrison's personal information to hack into his bank accounts. He didn't like what he saw. A two hundred and fifty thousand dollar deposit had been made just before Jack was sent to Haiti. Harrison's new wife was a penniless ex-Playmate. More than once Harrison had mentioned that the two of them hit it off so well because they had come from families with little or no money. So it didn't make sense that the large amount would be an inheritance. What was Harrison up to?
Jack hit Exit when he saw security approaching.
"Are you staying at this hotel, sir?"