by Debra Webb
One look in the mirror and she gasped. Slade had insisted on leaving her purse in her car, so she had nothing to work with. For now, she relieved herself, washed her hands and face, and tried to do something with her hair. Those Irish locks she’d inherited from her great-grandmother were as stubborn as all get-out. She did the best she could, then tidied her clothes.
She was ready. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was even paler than usual. She licked her lips and took a deep breath.
“What’re you doing?” Why didn’t she just walk out of here? There were too many people around for him to draw his weapon. He wouldn’t want that kind of attention.
Anticipation stirred in her chest. Once she’d explained what happened to the police, she could go home. Take care of the coffee shop. See the doctor. Get on with her life.
The police can’t protect us, Maggie. What if he was right? What if this crazy woman tried to use Maggie to lure Slade into some sort of trap? Or killed her?
Maggie’s hand went to her belly. She had to protect her child.
Pete, the truck driver, had been wrong. She wasn’t going through all this just because she was so madly in love with Slade—which foolishly she was. Maggie’s top priority was the baby and until she knew more, she had to assume that Slade was telling her the truth.
Not that he’d ever told her the truth before.
Coffee and water had been delivered to the table by the time she returned. Maggie lowered herself into a chair, placed a napkin in her lap and devoured the water. She hadn’t noticed until she took that first sip how immensely parched she was. The cool liquid felt good going down. Chasing it with the warm coffee was equally enjoyable. Relief slowly unfurled, from her rigid shoulders all the way to the aching muscles in her calves. The events of those hours in the dark seemed a little further away.
When she lowered her cup, Slade was watching her. As if a switch had been flipped inside her, she instantly got lost in his eyes. How had she ever allowed herself to get this addicted to a man she had come to realize kept so very many secrets?
“I ordered toast, bacon and eggs, scrambled the way you like,” he informed her.
Scrambled eggs. Her mind latched on to those two words. It was the strangest thing. Here she sat in a public restaurant on the run with a man she clearly didn’t know, in a city she’d passed through only on the way to somewhere else, and she got mentally hung up on a point about eggs. She had known Slade Keaton for two years. In all that time, whenever they had shared a meal, he’d eaten whatever she ate. Scrambled eggs, steaks well done, grilled chicken. Whatever. She could not recall him ever ordering anything different from what she ordered. Or ever offering to choose an activity besides what he already knew from experience she liked to do.
“How do you like your eggs?”
He looked puzzled by her question.
“You ordered scrambled because that’s what I always order or prepare.” She fidgeted with the napkin in her lap to busy her hands.
“I like scrambled eggs.”
His face blanked the same way it had last night whenever she’d demanded answers. What kind of man couldn’t tell the truth about eggs? Hysteria jarred her. She battled it back. “What about steak?” she asked sharply. Again she fought for that calm that seemed to be slipping rapidly from her grasp.
He sipped his coffee, took his time placing the cup back on the table. “The cut?”
Anger entered the emotional mix playing havoc with her control. “Medium? Well done? Rare?”
“Well done.”
“How about wine? White or red?” she snapped.
“White.” The tiniest lines formed on his brow, suggesting confusion or maybe frustration.
“Whole milk or skim?”
He manufactured a half smile. “You must be starved. All your questions are about food.”
Maggie wadded the napkin in her fist. She leaned forward. “You always pick what I pick. Do what I want to do. Even music.” Good grief, she’d forgotten that until now. “You like all the music I like.” If they went to a museum or gallery, would he gravitate to her same interests? Of course he would. It was all an act. A well-planned and perfectly executed strategy.
The waitress arrived with their breakfast. The smells that had moments ago revved her appetite now had her stomach recoiling. She had to eat. If not for her, for the baby.
Rather than wait for his answer, she took a forkful of food and forced herself to eat. The bacon was crispy, which made it more palatable. Totally ignoring him, she waved down the waitress and ordered orange juice. The server had no sooner placed it in front of Maggie than she drank it down. That really hit the spot. The sweet, tangy liquid awakened her taste buds as nothing else had. When she paused to catch her breath she realized she’d overlooked her toast, but she was stuffed.
Slade stared at her, his food scarcely touched. “I guess you were hungry.”
She wanted to argue and say she hadn’t been hungry at all, but the baby growing inside her needed nourishment. But she couldn’t do that. Fear and worry and excitement had rolled into a ball and started to expand in her chest. An urge hit with such swiftness and such intensity that Maggie barely scrambled from the table and made it to the ladies’ room in time to prevent humiliating herself. The lovely eggs and crunchy bacon she had devoured with such fervor exited with equal vehemence.
She sagged against the stall wall. It took a moment or two to steady herself. She unrolled a gob of toilet paper and cleaned up her mess. With monumental effort, she moved to the sink, washed her hands and face, and rinsed her mouth.
After pulling herself together, she made her way back to Slade. He had already placed the cash on the table for their meal.
He stood. “You ready?”
For what? She wanted to ask that but didn’t. She knew there was no point. Instead, she nodded and followed him out to the parking lot. The breeze remained chilly, but the sun was shining and Maggie appreciated that very much. She hugged herself and followed him to the gas station next door.
He scanned the parking lot. Mostly passenger automobiles were parked there. The big trucks were piled into the three truck stops that dotted this stretch of street.
“So.” She couldn’t bear not knowing a moment longer. “What’s next on the agenda?”
“A major purchase.”
Confused, Maggie asked, “What kind of purchase?”
Slade gestured to the newspaper vending machines near the entrance to the station. “Wait right there.”
There were other questions she could have asked. Truth was, she didn’t possess the energy to put up a fuss. She took the position and waited.
As long as nothing blew up or no one started shooting, she would go along for a little while longer.
What else was she going to do?
Private Airfield, 12:48 p.m.
SLADE PAID THE GUY THE THREE hundred bucks he’d promised for a ride to the airfield. He watched the van drive away until it disappeared in the distance. Maggie waited silently next to him. She hadn’t asked any questions as he’d ushered her into the van back at the gas station. She’d said nothing during the long ride here.
The airfield was in the middle of nowhere well outside St. Louis proper. There was a small box of an office and an adequate strip. A call to the pilot had verified that the private flight reserved for Slade remained on his schedule. The plane sat in front of the only hangar. The pilot was nowhere in sight.
The only question now was whether or not it was a trap. Slade hadn’t been able to contact McCain, which confirmed his suspicions that his contact had been eliminated. How much of Slade’s transportation plans had been gleaned was anybody’s guess. The location of the motel, obviously. But the flight plan? Who knew?
Only one way to find out.
Slade huddled with Maggie. “I don’t know what will be waiting in that hangar, so it’s best if you wait here until I give the all clear.”
“And if it’s not clear?”
He placed his secure cell phone in her hand. “Head for the office and call 911.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, and he saw the fear in her eyes.
He turned away. No point giving the enemy more time to prep for an ambush.
“Slade.”
He shouldn’t turn back, but for reasons he would never fully grasp, he did.
“Be careful.”
He gave her a nod and resumed his trek toward whatever waited inside.
The hangar doors were open. His hand resting on the butt of the weapon in his waistband, he walked inside. The dead silence and the shadows that lurked around the equipment and tool bins amped up the tension humming inside him. The pilot’s name was Hendrix. That he was nowhere to be seen was not a good sign. Slade’s instincts rushed to the next level. His fingers tightened on the grip of his weapon.
When a side door opened, Slade froze, his feet wide apart. A man matching Hendrix’s description stepped through the doorway, tucking his shirttail into his waistband.
“You Christian?” Hendrix asked.
“That’s right.” Slade relaxed a fraction. McCain had used an alias for the arrangements. “We ready for take-off?”
“Yes, sir.” Hendrix hitched a thumb toward the door he’d exited. “I usually take a relief break before boarding.”
Slade nodded. “Understandable.” This was a three-hour flight. Maybe more if Slade’s plan worked out. He kept an eye on the shadowy area in the far corners of the building. So far he hadn’t spotted anything suspicious.
“I’m ready when you are.” Hendrix gestured to the aircraft standing by just outside the hangar doors. “I have dinner plans with my fiancée tonight. If I’m not back on time she’ll make my life miserable for weeks.”
“I’ll get my wife and we’ll be on our way.”
Hendrix frowned. “I thought you were the only passenger.”
Slade smiled. They hadn’t gotten to this guy. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been surprised about a second passenger. Slade shrugged. “My wife decided at the last minute that she wanted to go. You know how it is.”
Hendrix laughed. “I do and I’m not even married yet.”
With a quick check of the area around the hangar, Slade retraced his steps to where he’d left Maggie. He stopped short and glanced around again.
She was gone.
Hell. He turned all the way around. She appeared around the corner of the office.
He let go the breath he’d been holding.
“The office is closed,” she said as she came nearer. “I was hoping there was a restroom.”
Slade held out his hand. If she’d called anyone, that could mean trouble. Ten minutes and they would be out of here. Still, ten minutes could be a lifetime when every second counted.
She acted confused at first, then she placed the phone in his hand. The expression on her face warned that she’d sensed his distrust. “I didn’t call anyone.”
He tucked the phone into his pocket. “There’s a restroom inside the hangar.”
He waited while she took care of business. The pilot readied the plane. When Maggie joined Slade outside once more, he said, “Let’s go ahead and board.”
The plane’s engine roared to life as they approached. Maggie hesitated and looked to Slade. He waited for her to get right with this step. He’d said all there was to say. This was the only option. He had to assume since an ambush hadn’t been waiting that this phase of his arrangements hadn’t been compromised. That was the best he could do.
Slade took the steps to the plane first, had a look around inside and then offered a hand to Maggie. When she was inside, he pulled in the steps and secured the door.
“Ready?” the pilot asked.
Slade gave him a nod as he settled in for the flight. Once they approached Mexico City he would give the pilot an alternate airfield for the landing. He wouldn’t like it since the change would deviate from the flight plan he’d filed, but he would get over it.
If he didn’t, Slade would handle the landing himself. He hadn’t operated an aircraft this size, but he was a quick study.
Maggie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She would have questions. That she saved them for later was fortunate. The pilot didn’t need any additional details to pass along if questioned later.
Slade had resources south of the border, but none like McCain. Weapons, ammo, ID, rudimentary gear and ground transportation. Nothing more. Basically, once they hit the ground in Mexico they were on their own. There was one place he felt confident about leaving Maggie, but he had to be sure that avenue was still viable.
Mexico. Under the circumstances, most would be running in the other direction. But not Slade. He fully understood that running would be futile at this point. Maybe if he were still on his own he could manage. His gaze settled on Maggie. But not now.
Now he had just once chance… Kill the Dragon before she killed him.
Chapter Six
Chicago, 2:00 p.m.
“Lucas.”
Lucas jerked from his troubling thoughts. “Yes?” He focused on the faces around the conference table in Victoria’s office. “You were saying…?”
Victoria’s worried gaze settled on his, and Lucas managed a dim smile. The last thing she needed right now was to worry about him. Simon Ruhl and Ian Michaels, Victoria’s seconds in command here at the agency, were briefing them on the Keaton situation. None of the news was good. Lucas felt a cramp of new frustration.
“Jim received confirmation that, thankfully, there were no victims as a result of the explosion,” Simon explained. “Only property damage. Unfortunately, that’s the only good news we have.”
“Still, that’s a tremendous relief.” Victoria’s shoulders sagged, confirming the reprieve she felt at hearing the news.
Ian Michaels picked up the briefing. “Maggie James appears to have vanished. None of her employees has heard from her. Her assistant manager allowed me to check her apartment and it appears untouched. Her personal belongings seem to be in order.” He glanced at his notes. “My contact says there have been no transactions on any of her credit cards or her bank card. However, her car and purse were found at the bus station downtown. There was no indication of foul play other than the ominous facts that her keys were in the ignition and her purse was abandoned.”
“There have been no public-transportation arrangements in her name or Keaton’s,” Simon added. “That doesn’t mean one of those routes hasn’t been utilized. We know that Keaton has operated under numerous aliases.”
“What about this woman referred to as the Dragon?” Victoria asked.
That she glanced at Lucas as she stated the moniker twisted the misery already writhing in his gut. He had brought this new menace to Victoria’s door. His every effort to determine the threat Keaton represented had proved futile. And it had cost numerous lives. For the first time in his adult life Lucas felt helpless. The admission, even if only to himself, sliced through his heart like a newly forged dagger.
“What about you, Lucas?”
Lucas turned to Ian. Both he and Simon had been with Victoria for a very long time. Either man would gladly lay down his life for this woman. As would Lucas. “I spoke with Thomas Casey this morning.” Thomas and Lucas had once worked together in the CIA’s most elite covert unit—the Specialists. Thomas was also the uncle of Casey Manning, Lucas’s goddaughter. “Based on the incident in Acapulco, the CIA believes she is somewhere in Mexico. For the past ten years there has been no documented activity related to her. Most consider her deceased, as did I. There is no evidence that Keaton is her son or that the woman called Alayna, whom Stark and Casey encountered in Acapulco, is her daughter.”
Lucas heaved a weary breath. “That said, there is no evidence to the contrary, either. In fact, outside the club she owned, there is no evidence Alayna exists at all. The same goes for Keaton. What we know of his life here the past two years is all there is, it seems.”
Victoria sh
ook her head. “How can this be?”
The worry weighing on his wife hurt Lucas more than any other aspect of this business. That Keaton had obviously taken an innocent victim deeply disturbed him. They had to find Maggie and help her. If she didn’t realize the danger around her, she would very soon. Then it might be too late.
“We’ll keep you posted on any updates we receive,” Simon offered, winding up the briefing.
Lucas thanked both men as they left Victoria’s office.
Victoria sat, as Lucas had been minutes ago, lost in her own troubling thoughts. He reached across the table and took her hand. She lifted her gaze to his.
“We will find them. Then we’ll have our answers.”
“Is she the one trying to kill Keaton?”
Lucas wished he could answer that question with any measure of accuracy. “That is the consensus.” Victoria knew this the same as he did. There were other questions she wanted to ask. If he was brave enough, he would give her the answers without her having to ask. But just now he lacked the courage to say the words that might in any way hurt her further.
“Is there any chance she will fade into obscurity like before?” The hope that flickered in Victoria’s eyes thrust the knife deeper into Lucas’s chest.
“She won’t stop until she’s finished what she started.” That he knew with complete certainty. Though his personal association with her was limited, he knew her reputation well.
Victoria fell silent again. For several moments she seemed lost in thought once more, then she returned her attention to him. “Do you know her name?”
Lucas shook his head. “I can’t be certain of anything related to her. In the intelligence-gathering world we work under deep cover, weaving elaborate webs of deception.”
“But you had a name for her,” Victoria pressed. “She was your lover, Lucas.”
