“You could go on ahead and flag down the car.”
The propellers started up, drowning her response, but she shook her head. The plane turned and taxied behind them as they followed a paved walkway behind a small shed. The rain fell harder, tapping a deafening beat on the metal roof. Beyond the building, they encountered a chain-link fence separating the airfield from the tree-lined road.
The gate was chained and locked tight. “And me without my bolt cutters.”
Valerie walked away from him, scanning the fence, presumably for a gap or hole.
He did the same for about twenty yards on his end and returned to the gate. “I think we need to go over. We’ll freeze to death before we can cover the entire perimeter.”
She looked up, hugging her shivering form. “What about the barbed wire?” The prickly topper that canted toward the road had been designed to keep people out, not in, but was effective either way.
“We’ll have to take our chances. At least here there’s a break.” He pointed to the gate hinge where there was a gap in the barbed wire to allow the gate to swing open. “We can use the hinges as steps and slip over between the brackets.”
“Will you be able to do that?”
“I’m fine.” He could suck it up. He’d suffered much worse. “You go first.”
Without argument, she shifted her bag so one strap hooked over each shoulder, tucked her toe into a space in the chain-link fencing and pulled herself up. The barrier was only about seven or eight feet tall, but their hands were turning numb from the cold, and the rain made everything slick.
Valerie climbed like a monkey, quickly reaching the top. Once there, she crouched with her hands on the brackets that held the barbed wire and carefully stepped over to the other side, sliding her calves through the gap in the fence posts. She planted one foot on a hinge and the other in the fence, and gracefully lowered herself to the ground, dropping the last couple of feet with a muddy squish.
“Perfect,” he said. He’d forgotten she was a climber.
She beamed at him through the wires, her face wet and shiny, hair plastered to her head. “Throw me your bag. It’ll be easier to keep your balance.”
He hesitated. She was right, but his camera was the backpack. If she dropped it… Then again, if he fell, both he and the expensive toy would be worse off. With his leg protesting every movement, he had enough issues.
“All right.” He removed the bag from his shoulders and turned it straps up. “Ready?” When she nodded, he shoved it almost straight up and over.
Thank God it wasn’t too heavy. The pack cleared the barbed wire and Valerie caught it with ease. “Come on,” she said, glancing down the road in both directions.
Nothing moved, but the longer they lingered the bigger the chance of discovery.
Scott closed his eyes and flashed back to beatings from his dad and grueling physical therapy sessions, psyching himself up. Quit thinking and just do it. With a growl, he raced up the chain link. Fire streaked through his leg, but he shoved the pain aside, focusing on making his nearly numb fingers work as he climbed.
At the top, he had no choice but to use his good leg for stability as he swung over. Rather than try to pick his way around the barbed wire and climb down, he vaulted away from the fence. The second his feet hit the ground, his injured leg gave out with a stabbing protest and he landed on his ass.
He stifled a grunt of pain and focused on the water dripping from his hair as he corralled his breath. Three in, six out. This is old hat.
Valerie’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You okay?”
With a nod, he pushed to his feet and took his backpack from Valerie, motioning her forward as he slid the straps over his arms. “Let’s go.”
Dagger-like pain stabbed at his thigh as he set a quick walking pace down the road, but there was no point in slowing down now. What was a little more pain when he was already awash in it?
Scott forced himself to focus on the deserted street, watching the shadows between the barren trees for threats. The glow of streetlights hailed them from about a hundred yards out, and they soon came across a brightly lit building painted dark purple with a dozen cars in the lot.
GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS
Valerie wrinkled her nose at him. “I suppose it was the only thing open twenty-four hours.”
“Close by, anyway. Someone sitting in a car on the street this late would arouse suspicion.”
The door of a black Explorer parked on the side of the building popped open and a short, thin woman in a long parka stepped out, her face hidden in the shadow of the hood that covered her head. She waved and walked toward them.
“Tara?” he asked, grabbing Valerie by the hand and rushing the other woman. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Tara Fujimoto was Steele’s brilliant business manager. She hardly topped five-two in heels and probably didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. No matter that she was good with a gun, she was no match for Hollowell’s hired thugs.
She raised her head, her pretty face and dark eyes finally visible in the rain-filtered light. Scowling, she said, “Nice to see you too. Get in the car and we can talk on the road.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leesburg, VA
Wednesday, 3:30 a.m.
Another beautiful woman. Apparently, Scott’s job was rife with them, but he didn’t appear happy to see this one.
He directed Valerie to the back seat of the SUV where a wool blanket and several towels lay stacked on the dark leather. Her hands were so numb and shaky that she couldn’t latch the seatbelt, but she had enough control to towel dry her hair and swab her clothes before wrapping the blanket around her body and over her damp head.
Her jaw hurt from trying to prevent her teeth from clacking together, and she couldn’t get her shoulders to relax. Had she ever been this cold?
In the front seat, Scott dried off in silence while Tara backed out of the parking lot. The woman turned down the road away from the small airport and jacked up the heat, blasting blessedly warm air through the vents at Valerie’s feet.
“The drive shouldn’t be bad this late. Less than an hour,” Tara said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “By the way, I’m Tara Fujimoto, business manager at Steele. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“Hi.” Valerie worked her cold jaw, trying to loosen the clenched muscles.
“I’m not sure if you drink coffee, but it’ll help warm you up,” Tara said, passing back a stainless steel travel mug. “I have cream and sugar if you want it.”
“Thank you.” Valerie added hazelnut-flavored cream and three sugars and clasped the precious mug with both hands. Tara had seemingly thought of everything.
“This one’s yours.” Tara looked at Scott and gestured to another travel mug. “You were limping. What happened?”
“Shrapnel.” He waved off her concern. “Valerie took care of it.”
“Shrapnel? Were you in an explosion?” Tara’s calm, almost flippant voice changed to an impossibly high pitch, fraught with concern. She took the corner a little too fast and they all swayed to the left.
“Someone shot at us as we tried to board the plane.”
“Shit.” She carefully brought the car to a stop to the side of the road just before the on-ramp to the toll road. “Was anyone else hurt?” she asked, glancing back at Valerie, who shook her head. “Is Caitlyn okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. Why are you stopping?” Scott asked, looking around at the empty street through rain-drenched windows.
“Thank God.” She grabbed her phone from the console and tapped the screen. “I’m texting Kurt and Dan. They need to take extra precautions.”
“Why isn’t one of them—or one of the other guys—here? If someone on Hollowell’s team had been waiting for us on this end, you could have been hurt.”
Tara patted his arm before putting the car back in Drive. “Aw, you do love me,” she said, her voice pretty much back to normal.
&nb
sp; A little piece of Valerie’s heart twisted with jealousy at the familiarity between Scott and their driver. Which was freaking stupid. But how did one compete with a woman like Tara?
“Look, I know you can shoot, even under pressure. Dan told me how you held your own after you and Jenna escaped,” he said, lowering his voice, but not so much Valerie couldn’t hear him over the rain or the rhythmic hum of the windshield wipers. “But you’re not trained for defensive driving or hand-to-hand combat.”
Now Valerie was eavesdropping shamelessly. Tara’s escape?
“True,” Tara said. “Which is partly why I’m here. No one watches the secretary.”
“Nothing against secretaries, but you’re far more than that.”
“I know that, but the guys who are after you don’t. Besides, Jason and Todd are in Tampa watching out for your mom, you’re here, I don’t think Mick’s ever coming to work for Steele, and Kurt is the person they’re most likely to be watching, if anyone. Dan is at the safe house.”
Valerie assumed those were all people Scott worked with. And apparently, they all trusted him, supported him. Believed in him. Her eyelids burned. Jay had been her best friend at Aggressor. She couldn’t think of another person she’d go to at the company for help. Not one person who would be on her side in this scenario. How sad was it that she’d been there for three years and had only one true friend to show for it?
And now he was gone.
She bit back a sob as empty office buildings passed outside her window, bright cones of rain visible under the parking lot lights. Pressing her forehead to the cold glass, she closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. Tired of looking over her shoulder, tired of fighting her attraction to Scott, tired of worrying about who she could trust. And straight-up exhausted.
The droplets drumming overhead, the swish of wet pavement, and the low tones of Tara and Scott’s conversation combined with the warmth from the coffee, the hot air blowing on her feet, and the comfort of the thick blanket to pull her into a restless, half-aware sleep.
She woke as the car pulled to a stop in front of a two-story, brick apartment complex tinted orange under the streetlamps. “Where are we?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Dan’s old apartment in Falls Church,” Tara said, shutting off the engine. “He and his wife just closed on a house in Vienna, but the lease here isn’t up until the end of the month.”
So they had less than a week to either take down Duncan or find a new hideout.
“He’s renting a truck after Thanksgiving to donate his old stuff, so the place is still partially furnished.”
Thanksgiving. Was that really tomorrow? How depressing. The only thing she could think of to be thankful for right now was Scott and his friends.
Okay, and being alive.
On Scott’s go-ahead, the three of them quietly exited the SUV and faced the freezing rain once more. The trip across the lot and up the stairs was blessedly quick, even with Scott limping.
Much like Valerie’s apartment building, this one had an exterior entrance rather than an enclosed stairwell that would keep out the weather.
The door to 9D opened before Tara could knock, and a man in his early thirties with short brown hair and a dark tan ushered them into a tiled foyer. The bare-walled room beyond had a gray couch, a glass-and-metal coffee table, and a rickety-looking wooden dining table with two chairs parked under a cheap brass chandelier. His house in Vienna—an upper-class suburb just outside the Beltway—was likely a giant step up from this place.
“Dan Molina,” he said to Valerie after closing and locking the door behind them.
“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, almost surprised that he didn’t inadvertently crush hers.
He turned to Scott, repeating the gesture but adding a back slap. “Dude, I’m sorry you got sucked into this.” He only had a couple inches on Scott, but he dwarfed him with his broad shoulders and bulging muscles. Handsome, a bit over-pumped for her taste, and intimidating as hell. “You weren’t followed?”
Tara scoffed. “If we had a tail, I wouldn’t have come here.”
“Fair enough,” he said, holding up his hands. “I wasn’t questioning your skills.”
“Thanks for helping out,” Scott said. “Sorry to drag you away from your bride.”
The other man’s grin at the mention of his wife softened his features, and Valerie relaxed a bit. “No worries,” he said. “We owe you big time. Whatever you need, you name it.”
“He needs you to look at his leg,” Tara said. She turned to Valerie. “I’m not doubting your first aid prowess, but Dan was an Air Force PJ. Like a paramedic who drops in behind enemy lines with weapons and bandages.”
Dan shrugged and tilted his head, as if to say, “Yeah, I’m a badass but I don’t want to brag.”
Jesus. No wonder he looked like a commando. “Of course,” she stuttered out, intimidated again but glad someone with real medical expertise could help Scott.
Dan gestured him to a dining chair with a frown. “Let’s take a look.”
Scott sighed and sat wearily, watching his teammate remove first aid supplies from a duffle bag.
“Do you know someone named Alan Albert?” Dan asked, walking to the kitchen to wash his hands and forearms.
Valerie’s heart slammed into her throat. “Yes. He’s the one who drove us to Fort Worth.” And almost got us killed.
Dan returned to Scott and donned a pair of latex gloves. “Kurt called when you were on your way over. Alan was arrested for helping you escape. Apparently, he’s also the one who called the cops. He’s out on bail.”
Her gut turned to a block of ice. If Alan had given her up to her enemies, why had he notified law enforcement too? After everything she’d told him, he couldn’t have been surprised that the men who were after her would use deadly force. But he’d been trying to protect her in his own convoluted way, so maybe when she didn’t change her plans—or when the shooting started—he had second thoughts.
Damn you, Alan.
Tara put an arm around Valerie’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Valerie took a deep breath and stood slowly, breaking the other woman’s embrace. She couldn’t meet Scott’s gaze. He’d been right about her friend all along, and she’d nearly gotten him killed because of it.
“It’s not your fault,” Scott said.
She nodded, fixing her gaze on the cushy brown carpet and hugging her waist. All of this was her fault. If she’d only kept her mouth shut from the beginning…
Tara cleared her throat and touched Valerie’s shoulder. “I bet you’d like to get into something dry. How about a warm shower?”
“Yes. Please.” Anything to take away the chill. And then she needed sleep. She shook off her melancholy the best she could. Reliving her mistakes wouldn’t change their situation, nor would it help her find a way out.
Tara led her past the kitchen with its Formica counters and white appliances into a short hallway that opened onto a bathroom and two bedrooms.
“There’s a change of clothes here for you.” Tara said as they entered the master bedroom. A pile of clothes was neatly folded on the queen-sized bed’s green comforter next to another set that was presumably for Scott. “I had to guess your size based on your driver’s license info, but I think I got pretty close.”
Valerie’s knees went weak with gratitude, and she suddenly wanted to cry. She was pretty sure everything in her bag except her computer—thankfully tucked into its protective neoprene sleeve—was wet. “Thank you so much. For helping us, for believing in us.”
“Of course.” Tara sounded surprised that she would expect anything less. “We trust Scott, and he trusts you. That’s enough for me.”
Valerie could only nod, still reeling from Alan’s treachery.
“There are empty hangers in the closet for your damp stuff, and extra bedding for whoever takes the couch since the spare bedroom is empty.” She opened the sliding closet doors and glanced at Valerie over her shoulde
r. “I assume that’ll be Scott.”
“We’ll draw straws.”
Tara smiled, but her dark eyes betrayed her fatigue. “I’ll leave you to your shower. Everything you need should be in there, but holler if I forgot something.”
Twenty minutes later, Valerie emerged warm and clean with washed and dried hair, wearing soft cotton pajamas. Amazing what a hot shower could do for the psyche. Except she could hardly keep her eyes open.
In addition to the pajamas, Tara had provided a red sweater, jeans, and a thick parka in forest green. She’d even thought to include a stretchy sports bra, running socks, and panties along with feminine supplies, a hairbrush and dryer, a razor, toothbrush, and toothpaste. And condoms.
Valerie had blushed at that.
The woman was thorough. Unnecessarily so, since it was Valerie’s fault Scott had been injured. He’d only trusted Alan on her say-so, and she’d been horribly wrong. Even if she and Scott weren’t running on fumes, sex would sadly be off the table.
Despite all of their kisses, at this point, she could only imagine him sticking around because she could help clear his name.
Except he’d tried to convince her they should split up now that he was hurt. Had that been a test? Or was he staying with her out of guilt or a sense of duty?
She sighed, too tired to solve that puzzle, and shuffled toward the kitchen in search of more hot coffee. As much as she wanted to sleep, she could use a little more java to ward off the chill that wanted to settle into her bones again.
In the living room, Scott sat with his back to her on the other side of the dining table, slouched down so his head rested against the top of the chair. The rest of the apartment appeared empty.
“Did Dan and Tara leave already?” she asked, simultaneously nervous and elated to be alone with him. “I wanted to thank them again.”
She stopped in her tracks, her insides frosting over as Tara rose from the space in front of Scott on the far side of the chair.
Dangerous To Love Page 222
