“What happened?”
“Well, I froze. I panicked. I put the scrap paper down the front of my dress and hid under Brad’s desk. And that’s when I heard Brad and Lawrence. I heard them arguing. And I looked around the desk in time to see Brad grab a sword off the restoration table…
“He already had Lawrence on his knees. He pulled him back by the hair and cut his throat. It was over before I realized what had happened. Then Brad ran out of the room.”
“God, Janey.”
“It was a Persian Nago Dao from the 1800s, about two feet long with a red lacquer handle and an almost flat end. I’d been with Brad when he picked it up in Egypt.”
“What?”
She blinked. “The sword. That’s the one he used. The one I kept seeing in my head when I thought I was the murderer.”
“Janey, what did you do?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking – I must have been in shock. Suddenly I was there with Lawrence, touching him, trying to put him back together, and the blood was everywhere–smeared on my gown, on my arms, in my fingers, in my hair. And then I heard Brad coming back.”
“Shit!”
“I ran to the storeroom and hid. I listened and heard Brad dragging the tarp around the floor, probably rolling Lawrence up inside it. I realized he’d probably want to hide Lawrence’s body in the storeroom, so I moved fast.
“I stripped out of my dress and put it and everything else – underwear shoes, stockings – in a trash bag I found on the shelf. I put on this kind of coverall suit they wore to do restoration work. I cleaned my hands with paper towel and shoved that in the bag, too, then I went out the window, closed it behind me, and went down the fire escape to the alley. I ran all the way to the ballet studio in my bare feet, about eight blocks.”
“It must have been freezing!”
“Ballerinas have very sturdy feet, Ruben.” She smiled sadly at him. “The next time you see your Uncle Frank, remember to tell him I’m tough as a pig’s nose and fast as heck, okay?”
“No shit.” Ruben tried to smile at her, but his heart was breaking for her.
“About a week before, I’d stored everything I’d need for my escape in my studio locker, including neon red hair dye. Ring a bell?”
He nodded, numb.
“I took a shower and got dressed. I’d decided to go for something completely the opposite of the real me – black leather and wild red hair.
“I cleaned up any sign that I’d been there, ran to the bus station, and dropped the garbage bag full of my bloody clothes and coveralls into a dumpster in the alley. I took the 10 p.m. to New York City, got a taxi to La Guardia, and took the last flight heading west, Denver as it turned out, and then a flight to Albuquerque.
“I looked in the phone book for a motorcycle dealer, took an Uber, and, well, you know the rest.”
Ruben had never moved from his spot on the floor in front of her. His brain hurt. He could not take his eyes off Janey O’Connor. She was beautiful, tough, brave, smart, and in one hell of a nasty mess.
She stood up suddenly, the blanket falling from her body. She reached down for the first thing she saw—Ruben’s button down shirt—and covered herself. She padded barefoot to the front closet and pulled out two boxes, dragging them across the floor to the light of the fireplace.
“This is it. Everything I never wanted to know about Bradley Rowe and Liberty Path.”
Ruben placed a hand on the top of one of the boxes. She put her hand over his.
“What scares me the most about these guys is the combination of so much hate and so many weapons. I read over and over about how they believe whites are the only true Americans.”
Ruben blew out his breath. “Old Gallegos would set them straight about that.” He looked up at her. “Here’s what I don’t understand—how did you do it, Janey? How did you go home to him every night knowing what you knew?”
She didn’t answer right away, but sat down cross-legged on the floor next to him.
“I’m not sure. I told you, I was barely hanging on.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“Talk about bull-headed,” Ruben mumbled.
Janey looked in his eyes, her face so close to his. She saw the love in Ruben’s gaze, and it made her tremble to her very core. She reached for his hands.
“Ruben, I hope I don’t need to tell you this…”
“I know.”
“Never. There can never be a story.”
“I know.” The buzz ripped through him. The vision of the Pulitzer Prize for investigative journalism danced in his head. Ruben focused on Janey’s face. “I know.”
“And you can’t tell anyone. Ever.”
“I know.”
“Not Cooper. Not anyone.”
“I know.”
“You’re giving me your word.”
“I am. I understand. I won’t.” He blinked. “Trust me.”
She laughed a little at that. “I no longer have any choice but to trust you, Ruben. I’ve just told you everything.” She held his gaze for a several long moments. “What am I going to do?”
“That, I don’t know.” Ruben stood up. “I could use a cup of coffee. Do you have any?”
Janey nodded glumly and watched him head into the kitchen. She stared at the fire.
Ruben retrieved the ten-cup glass carafe off the counter and stood at the tap, watching as the water slowly filled the pot. He moved his stare out beyond the dark glass of the window, realizing his hands had begun to shake. He was glad for this moment alone just to breathe.
Of course they needed to alert the feds. A right-wing militia group had imported weapons of mass destruction and planned to attack government agencies. Hundreds, even thousands of people could die. Maybe just an anonymous call would be enough to stop it.
And then what would happen to Janey?
He knew how it worked. The U.S. Marshall would put her in the witness relocation program, of course, and they’d try to keep her alive. What kind of life would she have? She could never dance again, or they’d find her.
Ruben looked into the darkness and stared at his reflection – drawn, worried, utterly perplexed – and then, slowly, somehow, altered.
Ruben blinked. “What the hell…?”
His blood ran to ice and he dropped the coffeepot into the porcelain sink. It exploded into a thousand pieces.
His own face had somehow been transposed over the face of another man, creating a single monstrous image in the window.
Bradley Rowe was outside staring back at him.
Janey ran to the kitchen doorway. “Ruben? Are you hurt?”
“Down!” He screamed, diving toward her, twisting in midair to grab her legs and flatten her beneath him. An earsplitting explosion rocked the house as half the kitchen collapsed.
He pulled her from the floor and they scrambled, heads low, to the front door, the sounds of rapid gunfire coming from the kitchen.
“Go for the truck. Fast!” Ruben pushed her out the door and followed her, running backward, scanning the darkness for Rowe.
Janey’s eyes clouded with tears and her body shook violently as they ran through the dirt and pine needles, through the trees and the dark, to the road. She suddenly realized she was barefoot. She was wearing only Ruben’s shirt. The thought floated through her mind: she’d die in Ruben’s shirt.
“Drive – the keys are inside!” Ruben hissed at her. She jumped on the seat and started the engine. Ruben dove inside the truck bed, just as a bullet sailed over his head and the truck peeled off in the dirt. In the confusion he thought for sure the bullet came from the opposite direction.
How many people had Rowe brought with him, Ruben wondered?
Someone was running after them on foot, shouting for them to wait.
“Drive!” he screamed to Janey.
A spray of bright sparks showered over the truck and Ruben heard a bullet ricochet off the cab.
He heard a
man scream.
“Get your head down! Drive faster!”
“Ruby!” Janey’s cry was desperate.
“I’m okay! Drive!”
“Where?”
“I don’t know!”
Janey whipped the truck onto a rutted dirt road alongside the stream. Ruben was tossed violently in the truck bed as they bounced and slammed down the lane, not going fast enough, not fast enough.
“Faster!”
Ruben heard one car, then another, hurl down the dirt road. He heard gunshots. He saw a figure running behind them.
“Faster!”
A bullet shattered the cab window behind Janey’s head.
“I’m fine!” she screamed. “Ruby?”
“Here! Faster!”
She gunned it. The truck’s high beams bounced wildly across the black sky, the side of the mountain, the pine trees. The truck slammed against the road with each bump.
“Where are we going?” she screamed.
“I don’t know!”
Two cars suddenly spun onto the narrow road behind them, clouds of dust swirling in the car lights. Gunshots popped and cracked, but they weren’t aimed at them, Ruben realized. They were shooting at each other.
Without warning, an explosion rocked the dirt and brush just feet away from the truck.
“Ruby!”
“Keep driving!”
Dear God, whatever that was, it was more than a rifle blast, Ruben knew. And for the first time in his life, he wanted a weapon in his hand, something he could rely on to pierce the flesh of another human being, strike him down, blast his guts out.
The only thing that mattered to him was Janey.
He heard Janey scream just as there was a sudden, shattering crunch, the sound of metal on metal, and the little pickup truck slammed to a stop. Ruben went flying through the air, landing with a thump in the hard earth of the embankment. He opened his mouth to seek air, but there was none… there was none…
“Get up!” Janey bent over him, her forehead bleeding, fat drops of her blood plopping down on his face. “Ruby, get up! You have to get up! You have to be all right!” She shook him, hard.
With a desperate gasp, Ruben found air.
“Get up!” She heaved him to his feet and they went stumbling back onto the road, the one functioning truck headlight illuminating a ghostly scene in front of them.
The gun shots continued, closer now.
“What did we hit?” Ruben choked out.
“A gate.”
“It’s the mine,” Ruben said, scanning the silent cranes and belts looming overhead in the shadows. “Hurry. We have to hide.”
They ran, and the blood rolled down into Janey’s eyes. She wiped it away with her hands and began to sob – she was covered in blood, hot slick blood. Again. Like the night of the party. The fear made her sick, made her weak.
Ruben grabbed her hand. “Hang on. Hurry.”
They stumbled and ran in the darkness, seeking somewhere, anywhere, to take cover. The gunshots were so close now.
They dived behind a corrugated tin lean-to near the entrance to the mineshaft.
Ruben grabbed her by the shoulders Janey and whispered, “How bad are you hurt?”
“A cut. Just a cut.” Her shaking hand went up to her forehead. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
“Okay.” Ruben crushed her to his chest and felt her body quake uncontrollably. “God, Janey.”
“Who’s out there?” she whispered. “Why are they shooting at each other?”
“I have no fucking idea. Stay down. Don’t move.”
With unsteady hands, Ruben reached for the tail of the shirt Janey wore and ripped off a strip of fabric. He pressed it to her head. “It’s bleeding bad. Here.” He tied it around her head.
They stared at each other, their hearts steadying, their breath slowing.
Finally Janey whispered, “Did you see Brad anywhere?”
“I’m right here.”
At the sound of that voice, she closed her eyes and prepared to die. Everything she’d done, all her careful moves, had meant nothing. He’d found her anyway. And she would die here in the blackness and dirt, with Ruby.
But Ruben lurched up and hurled himself blindly in the direction of the voice, his arms punching the darkness in wild anger. “Janey, run! Run!” he screamed.
She burst from her crouch and sprinted off, Ruby’s shirt flapping white in the dimness as she ran.
In that instant, Ruben saw movement, saw Brad Rowe carefully aim his weapon at the fast-moving phantom.
“Janey!” Ruben shrieked, as he flew at Rowe, knocking him to the ground just as the bullet released and cut through his flesh.
“Umph…” Ruben hit the dirt, clutching his upper arm, reeling from the spikes of pain.
“Fuck!” Rowe had dropped his gun and groped around on the ground for it, his hands pounding the earth in frustration.
Ruben forced himself out of the fog of pain, reached out for the gun at his fingertips, and threw it across the open ground. He immediately felt the blow to his face, and thanked God for it – it was just what he needed to stay awake.
Ruben flung himself forward and the punches raged from him, crazy and undisciplined in their hate. The men went at each other in the night, in the dirt, grunting, pummeling, tumbling, cursing. The pain seared through Ruby, but he kept going, kept hitting, out of control with the anger and the need to kill this man.
“Fucking wetback,” Brad hissed at him, trying to get his hands around his neck. “I’ll kill you for putting your slimy hands on her. I’ll fucking kill you.”
“You’re the one who’s gonna die,” Ruben elbowed him in the face and the slam of his sharp bone against Rowe’s teeth sent a rush of satisfaction through him.
Rowe hit the dirt and Ruben stood over him, pulling him up by the shirt collar. They stood face to face, breathing hard, and Ruben had just an instant to look into the eyes of the man who swayed in his grip.
“You touched her,” Brad whispered, his eyes coming alive. “She’s mine.”
“She doesn’t belong to anyone,” Ruben croaked. “You don’t know her.”
“And you do?”
“Don’t move! I swear to God I’ll kill you!”
The men swung their faces around to see Janey, just few feet away, her hair and Ruben’s shirt glowing in the night, her forearm braced as she pointed the gun at Rowe.
“I’ll kill you, Brad.” She kept her voice steady and blinked back the blood dripping into her eyes.
It happened so quickly that Ruben couldn’t react. He was suddenly caught, forced onto his knees, the cold steel already at his windpipe.
“Do it, sweetheart. Me and your bean-eater will go together.”
As the small, curved dagger pressed against his neck, Ruben began to shake. His stared at Janey in the darkness, and in her eyes he saw nothing but panic and blood.
“I think you may know how handy I am with a knife,” Rowe added.
“Shoot him, Janey! Just kill him!” Ruben felt Rowe grab him by the hair to expose more of his neck.
“Oh God, no! Ruby!” She turned her eyes to Brad, pleading. “I’ll do anything you want. Please, God, let him go.”
“It would be more fun if you tried to shoot me.”
Janey’s arm collapsed and the gun tumbled into the dirt.
Rowe laughed. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“I’ll do anything!” Janey’s eyes darted to Ruben and back to Rowe. She held her arms out from her sides as if to embrace the emptiness around her. Her whole body shook.
“Did you see me with Lawrence the night of the party?”
“Yes.” The tears rolled down her face, mixing with blood. “Why did you do it?”
Rowe chuckled again. “He’d been poking into things that were none of his business, things he didn’t understand. He could have destroyed years of work and sacrifice.”
It was Janey’s turn to laugh, and Brad flinched at the bitterness in the sound.
“You’re an idiot, Brad. It wasn’t Lawrence. It was me.” Her face suddenly contorted in disgust. “I know everything, Brad. I know what you plan to do. And the FBI already knows, too.”
Rowe’s breath caught.
“You know what else? I was pregnant with your baby, Brad.”
Rowe’s grip tightened on Ruben’s hair and his knee pressed sharp against his back. Ruben could not move.
“I had a miscarriage.”
Ruben heard her voice cracking and saw her trembling. Janey was stalling, but she wouldn’t be able to remain standing for much longer. He had to think. Think. The blade pressed harder against his neck.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was real pain in Rowe’s voice.
“Because I hated you,” she sobbed. “I hate you even more now, you sick son-of-a-bitch!”
Rowe let out a sigh. “I have to admire your effort, but did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”
“I hoped. That was all I could do.”
The blade suddenly slid across the top layers of skin at Ruben’s throat. As he moaned, the blood smeared along the edge of steel. Janey’s eyes went wide in horror and she reflexively jerked toward Ruben.
“Stop.” Rowe’s voice was as sharp as the blade. “How long, Janey? How long have you betrayed me with this Spic?”
“Let him go. I’ll do anything you want.”
“How long?”
Janey cried hard. She brought her hand to her mouth and she fought for the ability to speak. All she could see was the long curved blade at Lawrence’s throat and the deep slice that cut the life from him. God, it could not happen to Ruby. Not Ruby….
“Just a few days,” she coughed out. “I just met him a few days ago.”
“You just met him?” Rowe began to laugh hysterically. “My God, Janey. What a surprise. I thought I knew you.”
“And I thought I knew you.”
“Well,” Brad whispered. “This is cozy, certainly, but I think it’s time to say goodbye.”
As he drew back the blade for the final cut, the tension was split with Janey’s piercing scream and the crack of a bullet.
Ricky Chisolm watched as Rowe fell off to the side, trailing the blade along Ruben’s neck, deepening the slash. Ruben lurched forward and brought his hands to his throat as he fell face down in the dirt.
Collision Course: A Romantic Thriller Page 22
