REILLY'S RETURN

by Amelia Autin

  "You never would have found me," Reilly sneered, "if not for this Judas here." He jerked his head toward Walker.

  In retaliation, Walker moved behind him and yanked the cuffs upward until Reilly winced. "Let me finish him off now," Walker growled, but Pennington shook his head.

  "Not yet." A smile of pure evil spread across his face. "You've underestimated me all along. Callahan. You thought you'd finished me before, but here I am. Free. And there you are." His smile widened. "Sure, Centurion made it easier to trap you, but I would have found you anyway."

  "Yeah, right."

  "Does the name Larry Brooks mean anything to you?" When Reilly's widening eyes revealed he recognized the name of one of the federal marshals who had worked on his case the first time around, Pennington gave a low laugh. "That's right. I even have followers inside the witness protection program. How do you think I found your partner's family?"

  Reilly clenched his teeth against the rage that rose in him at the reminder, then faced Pennington squarely. "I guess your blood money can buy you almost anything you want—now. You can have people tortured and killed, and get away with it. Again, for now. But all you really have is money and the power it commands. Someday someone will find a way to bring you down for good, and when they do, all your loyal followers will desert you like rats from a sinking ship." His voice dripped contempt. "By yourself, you're nothing."

  The smile was wiped from Pennington's face as if it had never been there, and he took a step toward Reilly. "Nothing? Is that what you call a man who holds the power of life and death over you? Nothing?"

  "A man?" Reilly spat at Pennington's feet. "You're not a man. You're nothing but a worm who doesn't even believe in the cause he espouses, who uses it and the people who do believe for his own perverted purposes."

  "That's enough!" Pennington backhanded Reilly across the mouth in sudden fury.

  Even though he'd been deliberately goading the other man toward something like this, the blow staggered Reilly, and he would have fallen if Walker hadn't held him up. When he could stand unaided, he wrenched free from Walker and confronted his adversary. "Is that the best you can do, Pennington?" he taunted. "Or don't you have the guts to kill me yourself?"

  Pennington stepped back, rubbing his knuckles and breathing hard. "Just killing you isn't enough. I swore I would see you burn in hell, Callahan, and that's just what I'm going to do. Carl," he snapped. "Bring the truck around."

  The minute the man with the Uzi turned and faded into the shadows, Reilly said, "You're taking quite a chance killing me in front of witnesses, aren't you? You never used to be so careless." A smile of derision played over his lips. "Or maybe you trust these men implicitly." Reilly paused, letting suspicion take its toll before adding softly, "Just like you trusted me."

  "Shut your mouth."

  Reilly ignored the warning. "But then, that was before you went to prison, wasn't it?" He cocked his head. "How did you like prison, Pennington? How did you like being locked up with the rest of the scum? Make any new … friends?"

  Pennington lost it completely. "Shut up!" he raged, the cords standing out in his neck. "Just shut up!"

  "Or what?" Reilly put every ounce of scorn he could muster into harsh laughter. "You'll kill me?" He laughed again. "You miserable piece of sh—"

  "Put a bullet in his head if he opens his mouth again," Pennington ordered Walker.

  Reilly half turned, his eyes meeting Walker's, who nodded and raised his gun.

  "No, Cody! No!"

  Reilly pivoted toward the direction Mandy's voice had come from, not quite believing he'd really heard it. "What the hell?"

  A shot split the night, slamming into Walker, spinning him around and sending him sprawling. The revolver flew from his hand and skittered out of reach when he went down. Reilly frantically thumbed the button that released the catch on his fake handcuffs, then dove for Walker's gun, coming up with it just as another shot rang out. This one ricocheted off the wall behind Pennington, barely missing him. Pennington drew his own weapon and ducked behind one of the pipelines, firing in Mandy's direction as he went.

  Raw fear surged through Reilly as he realized that Mandy was Pennington's target. He didn't know how she'd come to be there, or why, but unless he did something to distract Pennington, she might not make it out alive.

  But he couldn't ignore the rapidly spreading splotch of dark color staining Walker's left shoulder, either. It didn't look good for his temporary partner. The man was already unconscious or in shock, and that shoulder needed medical attention—fast. Barring that, someone needed to stop the bleeding at least, or he wasn't going to make it out alive.

  Half expecting to be brought down by gunfire from either Pennington or his henchman, Reilly grabbed Walker by the collar and quickly dragged him around the corner of the building to relative safety. The movement jolted Walker into painful consciousness, but he clamped his jaw shut until they'd reached the shadows.

  "Forget me," Walker gasped, clutching at Reilly's arm to stop him as he ripped open the man's shirt to see how badly he'd been injured. "Mandy's out there."

  "You think I don't know that?" Reilly muttered, swiftly stripping off his own jacket and wadding it up, then pressing it hard against the wound. Walker's body arched in agony, every muscle taut, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he sagged into unconsciousness again.

  Reilly yanked Walker's belt off and hurriedly strapped it as tight as he could around the bunched jacket and Walker's shoulder in a makeshift pressure bandage. It might not do the trick, but he had no more time to waste.

  He took his .45 from Walker, preferring the familiar weight and feel of the semiautomatic that seemed to be a natural extension of his arm over the sheriff's equally powerful revolver. He kept the other gun nevertheless, caching it in his jeans at the small of his back, just in case. Then he went after Pennington.

  There had been no more gunshots after the first exchange, but Reilly wasn't stupid enough to think Pennington had given up. He stole around the other side of the building toward Mandy's last known position. She wasn't there.

  Damn it, Mandy, he cursed internally, his brain teeming with questions while his body automatically continued searching for Pennington. Why didn't you do what you were supposed to do? Why didn't you just stay the hell away from here? Cursing her was better than imagining her bleeding to death the same way he'd left Walker.

  But she had come, for some reason known only to her, and she'd obviously misinterpreted what was going down. The alterations they'd made to the plan on the way here in order to allay any suspicions Pennington had about Centurion must have been more convincing than they'd realized, if they'd managed to convince Mandy, too. But damn it all, the basic plan hadn't changed, and she'd been there when they'd mapped it out. What was going on?

  Reilly's lips compressed into a grim line. His Mandy had a lot of explaining to do when this was over. If any of them were still alive when this was over, that was.

  The generators and hydraulic pumps hummed and throbbed, providing Reilly with the audile cover he needed as he stalked his prey from building to building. That it also gave Pennington the same advantage was something he refused to worry about. He just wished he knew where Mandy was; she seemed to have disappeared. She couldn't be dead—somehow he'd know it if she was. But if Pennington found her before he found Pennington…

  Reilly glanced at his watch and cursed again. Where the hell were the reinforcements Walker had arranged for? Yes, Pennington had surprised them both by showing up earlier than expected, but the backup team should have been here by now to assist with Pennington's arrest. And there was Walker to consider, too, damn it. The wound had looked pretty bad, and there was no telling how much blood he'd lost by now. Walker didn't have a prayer if those reinforcements didn't show up soon.

  Or maybe the reverse is true, Reilly thought. Maybe we're all better off if they don't show up. If Pennington has one federal marshal in his pocket, maybe he has others, too.

/>   Cold resolution filled him, and he instantly shifted from Plan A to Plan B. Arresting Pennington was no longer an option.

  * * *

  Mandy clutched Reilly's gun and scrunched down even more, trying to squeeze herself further into the small niche between Pump #2's generator and the pump housing, which she'd long ago discovered made a great hiding place. But she wasn't a ten-year-old anymore, and she didn't quite fit. Still, Reilly was probably better off with her out of the way, and this was better than nothing, even though the noise was horrendous close up. If she didn't move she might escape detection while she figured out what to do next.

  I could have planned this better, she thought, if only I'd had more time. But at least Reilly got away. At least he has a fighting chance now.

  She had to keep reminding herself of that. She had to. Otherwise, the nightmare memory of the instant when the bullet she'd fired ripped into Cody's body would overwhelm her.

  Shooting him hadn't even been a conscious decision. She'd known as soon as she heard the voices that she was too late to warn Reilly. So she had crept as close to the four men as she'd dared, waiting for an opportunity to rescue him somehow. But when the man with the machine gun had left and Pennington had ordered Cody to shoot Reilly, time had run out. She'd acted on instinct, shouting something—she wasn't sure what—and stepping away from the building for a better shot. Her hands unexpectedly steady, her vision clear, she'd sighted down the barrel of the gun Reilly claimed had never let him down. Then pulled the trigger.

  Only afterward, when she saw Cody fall, had she realized what she'd done. Only then had her eyes blurred as memories of Cody flashed through her mind: exploring with her when they were children; warning her dates that they'd better not mess with her or else; holding her as she cried at her parents' funeral. He'd been her friend forever, and she'd killed him.

  And then she'd taken aim at Pennington, with true murderous intent. He was to blame. He had turned her friend into an enemy, forcing her to take a human life. He had tried to kill the man she loved, again and again. And he was responsible for the loss of her baby. Not Reilly. Pennington.

  God forgive her, but at that moment she'd hated David Pennington with a ferocity, a savagery that stunned her to remember. In her mind he'd been evil incarnate, and she'd been more than willing to be his judge, jury and executioner. She'd wanted to kill him. Had meant to kill him. But her tears had blinded her just enough to throw off her aim and allow him to escape.

  Now, as she crouched here, muscles burning from lack of movement, ears straining to hear something over the deafening sounds of water being pumped right next to her, she finally understood Reilly. Finally understood how easily the thin veneer of civilization could be stripped away, leaving nothing but primal instinct and emotion.

  I won't let them hurt you. I'll kill them all before I'll let them touch you, Reilly had said once, and she'd been appalled at the time. She'd thought she understood what he meant by that statement later, the night Cody unexpectedly showed up at the cabin, but she hadn't really. Hadn't even come close.

  I'm sorry, Reilly, she apologized in her mind, wondering if she'd ever have the chance to apologize for real. I didn't understand before.

  A slight movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she froze. Too late she realized she was wedged in too tightly, that she'd trapped herself with her gun hand on the inside. Then a backlit shadow loomed over her.

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  « ^ »

  "Callahan!"

  The triumphant voice rang out loud and clear, and Reilly flattened himself against the nearest wall, .45 at the ready, waiting to see what Pennington was up to.

  "I have the woman, Callahan."

  Only years of training kept the sudden roaring sound in Reilly's head from erupting to the heavens in an outcry of anguished rage.

  "Come out where I can see you," Pennington continued, "unless you don't care what happens to her."

  The threat sliced through the mindless terror and helpless fury that held Reilly in their sway. He breathed deeply a couple of times, forcing everything from his mind but the need for control, knowing they were all dead unless he managed it. His eyes squeezed shut for a second. Don't let it get to you, he commanded himself. Deal with it. But it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

  He edged over to the corner of the building, almost surprised that his muscles obeyed because his body seemed to be functioning separately from his mind. Then he peered around. "Let me see her," he yelled. "I'll come out when I know she's okay."

  "No Reilly! Don't—" Mandy's attempted warning ended on a cry of pain, and the sound twisted through Reilly's gut.

  "Let me see her, Pennington, or it's no deal," he insisted.

  Mandy suddenly appeared from behind a building on the other side of the compound, and though Pennington was too smart to show himself as a target, Reilly could see one of the man's hands curled around Mandy's neck, with the other holding a gun pressed against her head.

  "Let her go, Pennington," Reilly called out, even though he knew it was useless. "I'm the one you want."

  Pennington's mocking laughter ripped through the air. "Not a chance, Callahan. Now come out with your hands up."

  Reilly started to comply, then paused. Knowing it probably wouldn't make a difference, he pulled Walker's revolver out from behind his back and tucked his own .45 in its place. Pennington was sure to make Reilly dispose of whatever weapon he carried, and he'd rather give up the revolver. Switching guns was no more than a tiny advantage, but sometimes that was the difference between life and death.

  "Five seconds, Callahan!" Pennington's voice had lost its mocking tone and had taken on a nervous edge. "Five seconds, or—"

  Reilly stepped out into the light, hands raised.

  "Walk toward me," came the order, and Reilly complied, although he remained on the alert for any possibility. After ten paces, Pennington said, "That's far enough."

  Reilly stopped. He was close enough to see the despair on Mandy's face, close enough to see the desperate pleading in her eyes. Go back, they seemed to say, and it was almost as if she'd spoken the words aloud. I love you, so please go back. And for the first time in his life he knew, really knew that he was loved the way he'd always yearned to be.

  A peaceful calm descended on him, and for a few precious seconds the world around them faded away, leaving only Mandy and him. Heart spoke to heart, soul to soul. And when they were done Reilly knew that no matter what lay beyond this life, somehow, some way, they'd be together. Forever.

  "Put the gun on the ground!"

  Pennington's sharp command intruded on their silent communion. Reilly's eyes held Mandy's for one more second, then he obeyed, squatting down and placing the revolver at his feet.

  "Now move back," Pennington said when Reilly stood up again, and he did just that, slowly easing himself away from the gun until the other man said, "Stop!"

  Pushing Mandy before him, the gun now pressed against her spine, Pennington inched out from behind the building. Reilly automatically calculated the distance and the angle of the shot he would have to make to take the man out without endangering Mandy, and metaphorically shook his head. Pennington's height and build were only slightly above average for a man, and Mandy was tall for a woman—she made an effective shield for him. Reilly wasn't about to risk a shot. Not yet.

  Pennington halted when they reached the revolver, and Reilly's flare of hope died almost before it was born when the man forced Mandy down with him to retrieve the gun. Pennington obviously wasn't taking any chances, even though Reilly was supposed to be unarmed, and Reilly would have approved his caution if they weren't adversaries.

  "It's too bad you can't appreciate the poetic justice of this situation," Pennington said, gloating again. "All this time I waited, because I wanted my revenge to be perfect. If I'd known about your weakness earlier, I could have put you in hell a long time ago."

  Although Reilly knew exactly w
hat Pennington was talking about, he refused to rise to the bait.

  "All I had to do was kill her," Pennington continued, bringing his gun up to stroke Mandy's cheek with it. "Isn't that right, Callahan?"

  Above the noise of the pumps and the generators, and the blood pounding in his ears, Reilly now heard the sound of an engine laboring up the incline to the front gate.

  Pennington must have heard it, too, because satisfaction was evident in his voice when he spoke again. "I thought I was going to have to forego the full measure of my revenge," he said, "but there's Carl, just in time." He relaxed his guard a fraction and took a step back, pulling Mandy with him.

  The move shifted his position behind her slightly, and Reilly's eyes noted it, but it wasn't enough. Come on, you son of a bitch, he urged, easing his weight onto the balls of his feet and imperceptibly lowering his arms. Just another few inches to your right. That's all I need.

  "Carl's not as knowledgeable as you are, Callahan," Pennington continued, "nor as good with weapons. But he is more—shall we say—reliable? than you ever were."

  Headlights swung over the compound as the truck made the final turn toward the gate, and the engine revved.

  "That's the difference between us," Pennington added, the ice-cold smile back in place. "I learn from my mistakes. You don't." And he leveled his gun at Reilly.

  Everything happened in the space of a heartbeat as Reilly dove for cover, his .45 already drawn. Mandy tore away from Pennington's grasp and threw herself to the right, knocking his arm up just as he fired. The truck burst through the closed gate, tearing out sections of the chain-link fence as it roared into the compound. A flash of silver flew out of the shadows, quicker than the eye could follow. And Reilly squeezed the trigger.

  Pennington's body arched backward a split second before the bullet found its target, spinning him around and slamming him into the wall. He dropped the gun and staggered a step or two, clawing at his chest, where a dark stain was rapidly spreading over the front of his khaki shirt. His expression of utter surprise gave way to blankness and he dropped to his knees, then toppled forward, a knife handle protruding from his back.