‘So I’m not judging you on that count. What I don’t get is why you didn’t just run. Why work for the Miami Mob?’
I narrow my eyes. ‘I don’t work for them.’
North raises an eyebrow. ‘You sure about that? Because from this side of the gun it sure seems that way.’
‘I’m not being paid for this. You and me, we’re not the same.’
He shrugs and flashes that toothy smile of his. ‘If you say so.’
I’ve no patience or time to debate for a moment longer. The sun is starting to rise, sending the pale light of dawn flickering and shimmering across the surface of the lake. I look across the clearing towards the Jeep. Gesture at it with the barrel of the Glock, and say, ‘Enough talking. We need to get gone.’
Even in the half-light I can see that the Jeep’s going nowhere fast. The bodywork’s shot up, the smell of gas tells me the tank’s most likely ruptured, and three of the tyres are blown into shreds.
‘We need another set of wheels,’ I say.
North makes a show of looking around the empty campsite. ‘Not much choice around here.’
I scowl at him, already sick of his wisecracks. ‘You don’t say.’
Crouching down, I feel under the Jeep’s belly, my fingers searching for holes in the tank. I use my good arm – my right. The left’s throbbing like a bitch. My shoulder muscles are aching, the fingers of my left hand barely able to grip the side of the Jeep for stability. I try to act like I’m fine, thankful that the black tee I’m wearing is long-sleeved and that, in this light, it’ll be hard for North to see that I’m bleeding. I don’t want him knowing I’m shot. Don’t want him sensing weakness.
My search doesn’t find any ruptures in the lower half of the tank. The problem’s higher up; my fingers feel the pockmarks in the bodywork a little ways below the fuel cap. Standing, I push my right hand against the Jeep’s body and push. As the vehicle rocks, I hear the ripple of gas in the tank.
I turn back towards North. ‘I think there’s enough gas to get us out of here.’
‘Yeah?’ He gestures towards the shredded tyres. ‘You got a few spares inside?’
‘Don’t need them.’ I pull open the door to the back seat. ‘We just need to put some distance between us and this place. Doesn’t have to be pretty.’
‘We’d be better sinking it in the lake.’
The Jeep was less than two months old. I’d written off the last one on a mountain road in West Virginia. Couldn’t claim another write-off so soon; they’d never insure me again. ‘Not on my watch.’
North shrugs. ‘Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. This Jeep, it links you to the shooting. It’s not just Luciano’s men who died tonight. My FBI handlers were killed back at Hampton Lodge – good men, with wives and families.’
I hold his gaze. A good man is a good man whether he has a wife and family or not; plenty of assholes have both of those, and they’re still assholes. ‘I was in the room two along from yours. When the police investigate the crime scene they’ll find me packed and shipped out. The ballistics report on the bullet in Luciano’s man shot on the walkway will be a match for my gun. Like it or not, I’m tied to this already.’
‘Hope you know what that means.’
‘Means I need to be quick at getting you back to the Old Man. Which is why we need the Jeep and we have to move now.’ Turning, I grab my jacket off the back seat. Grit my teeth to stop myself from wincing as I put it on. Don’t quite get away with it.
He frowns. ‘You’re hurt?’
‘It’s nothing.’
North’s voice is softer; his expression all concerned. ‘Show me.’
I shake my head. Wave his concern away. ‘There’s no time, I’ve just tweaked it.’
His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me.
Taking my Swiss Army knife from my jeans pocket, I walk around to the offside rear wheel and stab it hard. The impact jars through my body. Pain spikes in my left arm and I bite my lip, trying not to cry out. Exhaling hard, I put my knife back in my pocket and move around to the driver’s door. Look at North. ‘There, now at least the wheels are even.’
He stares back at me, raises his eyebrows but doesn’t speak.
I climb up into the driver’s seat and turn the key in the ignition. First there’s nothing. Second time I press the gas harder and the engine rattles and coughs. Third time it catches.
Revving the engine, and hoping it’ll stay alive, I lean across the seats and open the passenger side door. ‘Come on, North, get in. It’s time we got out of here.’
21
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21st, 05:08
I coax the Jeep through the narrow country roads around the wildlife management area, away from Missingdon and towards the main highway. I figure Route 98 will be a better call than I-10. We have a good few miles to reach it, but oftentimes fewer vehicles mean fewer state troopers, and we need to stay off the grid for as long as we can.
Without tyres we feel every bump in the road a hundred times more than normal. The metal wheel rims scream like strangled cats against the blacktop; an ear-piercing, nerve-grating sound that makes the hairs on the back of my arms stand on end and puts my teeth on edge. But it’s worth it. We’re making progress – getting further from Missingdon, and the crime scenes, faster than we ever could have done on foot.
But still North looks pissed. ‘The noise this thing’s making, we may as well use a megaphone to announce where we are to the cops.’
‘I thought you said you were with the Feds voluntarily. Why are you worried about the cops?’
He looks at me like I’m as dumb as a stump. I’m not, but I hold his gaze, playing the role. Waiting to hear his take on things.
‘Dead bodies tend to change a situation.’
The Jeep’s engine coughs and fades. I stamp on the gas pedal hard, forcing it back into life. ‘You didn’t kill the Feds.’
He stares at me though his shades, his expression unreadable. ‘You seem very sure of that, but how’d you know? You weren’t on the walkway or in my room; you didn’t see who fired the shots.’
‘I heard the two agents exit your room out onto the walkway and then the gunfire. I’m not some tadpole bounty hunter or rookie kid. I know how to judge where a shooter’s at by sound. The shots were fired from outside your room. A split-second later you bust through the connecting door. The lives of those two agents, they aren’t on you.’
He looks away. ‘I knew Luciano would do something.’ His tone’s bitter now. ‘I told them two agents wouldn’t be enough.’
‘You didn’t pull the trigger. Like I said, it’s not on you.’
‘I swore I’d never let that happen again. That I’d never have to do that.’
I tug at the wheel, limping the Jeep around a bend as if it’s a mustang with a busted leg. ‘What?’
North looks back at me. His jaw is rigid. There’s a muscle pulsing in his neck. ‘Watch good citizens die.’
‘Not your call. Luciano’s men—’
‘The Old Man thinks I’ve turned.’
‘That’s not what he said to me. But based on what went down here tonight, yeah I reckon so.’ I frown. ‘You wanted to help the Feds, though, so he’s right, isn’t he?’
North exhales hard. Shakes his head. ‘It’s more complicated than that.’
The road’s really rough in this section – the bumps stab through my left arm like a bitch. I grip the wheel tighter with my right. Grit my teeth. ‘Yeah. Always is.’
‘Anyways, it doesn’t matter what the truth is. Luciano will have poisoned the Old Man against me. They’re out for my blood now, both of them.’
I nod. Know that it’s the truth. ‘So they don’t want you safe, they just want you silenced, huh?’
‘That’s about the sum of it.’
‘I still have to take you back.’
‘Yeah. I get that. I worked for the family my whole life. I know that there’s no sense in running – I’ve seen what happens
if you do. The only way to do this is head on.’ He grabs the map from my go bag. Spreads it out over his side of the dash. ‘We’ve got maybe twelve miles to go until we reach Route 98, not much more.’
The engine misfires and I shake my head. ‘This thing’s running on fumes. I don’t think it’ll get us that far.’
‘Then we need to ditch it before we run out of gas.’
‘Agreed.’ Busted tyres and bullet holes are guaranteed to draw attention if we leave it here. I’d rather have the Jeep hidden out of the way than parked up at the side of the highway. ‘I was thinking the same thing.’
I keep driving and about half a mile on I see a good spot; a knocked-about barn, near-on totally covered in creepers. The Jeep will be hidden from the road, so hopefully the cops won’t find it, or at least it should take them a while. And it’ll be a whole lot easier to fetch it once this is all over.
Taking my foot off the gas, I glance at North. ‘I’m thinking here.’
He looks at the barn and nods. ‘Good call. There’s a truck stop a couple of miles up Route 98. We walk there, we can hitch a ride.’
Twisting the wheel, I steer the Jeep off the road and behind the abandoned barn. The tyreless wheels clunk over the rutted ground, shaking us about and sending hot spikes of pain shooting down my left arm. I clench my jaw and, clutching the wheel tighter with both hands, steer the vehicle into hiding.
I park it tight up against the barn on the passenger side, blocking North in. Opening my door, I climb out, then open the back and pick up my go bag. Slamming the back door shut, I peer through the front at North. ‘You coming?’
‘I guess so.’ He scoots across the seats and jumps out of the Jeep. Taking his shades from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he puts them on and gives me one of his smiles. ‘Let’s do this.’
Pocketing the keys to the Jeep, I lead us back out onto the side of the road. The sun is higher in the sky, its rays growing in strength, preparing for the scorching heat of the day. The air above the road ahead of us seems to warp and flex, an illusion from the hot air mingling with the colder, dew-damp ground. Before long I know that the blacktop will be hot as a griddle pan at a cookout.
I look across at North. I can’t figure him out. He claims he’s turned state witness voluntarily, yet when he was talking earlier it sounded like he’s still loyal to Old Man Bonchese. There’s something at play here that I’m not aware of; another game aside from Luciano’s bloodlust and the Old Man’s fake rescue mission.
North’s moving purposefully, keeping time with my stride. Sensing I’m watching, he glances up and gives me a half-smile. With his shades shielding his eyes, it’s impossible to interpret what he means by it.
I smile back, but I know it’ll look a little forced. The man I knew all those years ago seemed like a genuine guy, but I didn’t know then he was a mob man, a fixer for the Old Man himself. That knowledge changes things, makes me a whole lot more wary. North might be with me for now, and say he wants to face the Bonchese family head on, but I’m damn sure he’ll make a break as soon as a better option comes along. And, the thing is, although I’ve got handcuffs in my go bag, I can’t use them. If I cuff him to me it’ll draw attention, and we can’t have that. So, for now, I have to leave him be.
Doesn’t mean that I’m not watching his every move.
22
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21st, 05:54
Sirens. In the distance … but getting louder.
North grabs my jacket and yanks me sideways, throwing us both into the undergrowth at the side of the road. ‘Get down.’
His hand pressing in the centre of my back pins me flat.
‘What the hell?’ My left arm hurts like hell from falling onto it. Fire nettles sting my hands. Stones from the road edge dig into my legs. I push myself back up to my feet. I glare at North and point across the flat grassland towards the horizon. ‘See the blue lights? The cops aren’t on this road. We’ve a ways to go yet before we need to start diving into bushes.’
North mumbles an apology. The humidity’s rising, and he looks a little sweaty beneath that leather jacket of his. We’re nearly out of water and we’ve still got around eight miles to hike before we reach Route 98.
We keep walking. I don’t let us slow, even though my head’s starting to pound like there’s a jackhammer bashing against it in time with each stride.
A mile later North stops. Breathing heavily, he steps across onto the grass at the side of the road and flops down. ‘Let’s take five?’
We can’t afford the time; the cops must be looking for us by now. It seems the hot-shot fixer isn’t as fit as he used to be. But he looks clammy, his face pale rather than red, as I’d have expected. ‘You okay?’
He’s silent a moment. Looks real earnest, like he’s thinking on what to tell me, then says. ‘I’ve got a heart problem, recently diagnosed. All this walking, the heat … My chest’s feeling tight.’
I pass him the last of the water. ‘You got something you can take?’
He shakes his head. ‘Left my medication in the room. It’s okay. I’ll be fine in a minute.’
‘Hope so. I don’t want to have to carry you.’
He laughs. Drains the last of the water and squashes the plastic bottle into a nugget. Puts it into his pocket. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
I look at him and raise an eyebrow. ‘You going to die on me?’
He smiles. ‘I’ll try not to.’
That’s when we hear a vehicle.
I look at North. He’s still not looking great and I figure riding would be a whole lot better for him than walking. I gesture for him to get down low in the bushes. Then I run my fingers through my hair and step out onto the road with my thumb up.
I look back over my shoulder as a silver RAM 1500 appears around the bend. It’s a new model, shiny, with a lone male driver. I fix my best smile to my face as he approaches.
He slows, braking to a halt beside me, and winds down the window. ‘Looking for a ride, honey?’
I’ve hitched plenty before, and I know on instinct this isn’t the type of man a girl should be getting into a truck with alone. He’s a big guy with longish blond hair, few-days-old stubble, and he’s looking at me like a mountain lion does a deer: real predatorily. But I think of North lying in the bushes and his dodgy heart and know taking this truck to Route 98 will be a whole lot better for him than hiking. ‘Why that would be so kind of you.’
‘Well, jump in, darling.’
I glance behind me at North. Then I open the truck’s door and climb up into the truck. As I fasten my seatbelt, I see in my peripheral vision that North’s crawling fast around to the back of the truck.
Widening my smile, I look at the driver. ‘Sure appreciate this.’
‘My pleasure,’ he says, in a tone that tells me he thinks it will be. ‘Love to help a damsel in distress.’
I force myself to keep smiling despite his sexist bullshit. As I do, North vaults up over the side of the tailgate and lands lightly onto the flatbed. To disguise the sound I clap my hands, faking delight. ‘You’re a real hero.’
The driver pulls away, setting off along the road at a fast lick. I try to ignore the way he keeps glancing across at my breasts.
‘You from around here?’ he asks. ‘Haven’t seen you before. I know I’d have remembered if I did.’
‘I’m just visiting.’
He nods. Licks his lips. ‘Where you hail from, then?’
I’m not a fan of all his questions. Wish he’d just shut up and stick to the driving, but know I need to act natural, not arouse suspicion. ‘I’m on vacation, hiking, you know? Only I lost my bearings this morning.’
He grins. Looks down at my chest again. ‘I think your bearings are just fine.’
Jeez, the nerve of this guy. Shaking my head, I gesture out through the windshield. ‘So how far are you going?’
He puts his hand on my thigh. Winks. ‘All the way, baby.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ I push
his hand away. ‘That’s not what this is.’
‘Oh, I think that’s exactly what it is.’ He laughs. Grips my leg harder, sliding his fingers upwards. ‘Come on, baby, loosen up.’
I slap his fingers away. ‘I said no. I’m not your damn baby.’
‘You are if I say so.’ He jerks the steering wheel hard right and brakes to a stop at the side of the road. ‘I’m giving you a ride. Now you give me some sugar.’
I glare at him. Keep my breathing steady even though my heart’s punching my ribs like a heavyweight champion. Reach for the door release. ‘I’ll walk from here.’
‘No, baby, you’re not leaving so soon.’ He presses a button, and I hear a clunk.
I pull the door handle. It doesn’t release.
He laughs, louder this time, and lunges for me. ‘Quit fighting, you might enjoy it.’
I don’t wait to see what happens next. Won’t have some dick-for-brains guy thinking he can do what he wants with me – with any woman. I reach under my jacket, pull out my X2 Taser and fire it through his jeans and into his balls. ‘Get the hell off me you fucking pervert.’
He jerks away from me, although that’s due to the Taser rather than him suddenly getting a conscience. I keep firing, letting the volts pulse through his convulsing body until he’s peed himself and is crying to his momma for it to stop.
Leaving the pin probes in his pants, I put my X2 back in my concealed holster, and lean over him to press the door unlock button.
He cringes away from me, and I shake my head. ‘Learn that no means no.’ I glance at his balls. ‘You try that again with any woman and, next time, I’ll shoot them off.’
Climbing down from the cab, I slam the door behind me. North raises his head above the side of the flatbed. ‘What’s—’
I gesture at him to get out. ‘Quick. We’re going.’
He jumps down and peers into the cab. Looks back at me and raises an eyebrow. ‘What the hell happened to him?’
I sling my go bag over my shoulder, wincing as the movement jars my left arm. I frown at North. ‘He tried taking something that wasn’t for him.’
Deep Dirty Truth Page 8
