by Liliana Hart
“Keep running. Don’t look back,” he said to Rachel.
Shane hovered his body over hers and pushed her between a row of parked cars, forcing them both to their knees on the hot pavement. Rachel’s breath was labored and her eyes were wide with fear, but she was hanging in there. Shane pulled a snub-nosed revolver from his ankle holster and listened as the footsteps of the men in pursuit slowed. There were still just two men, and Shane heard them split up so they could cover more ground.
The seconds ticking by seemed like hours and he knew there would only be a short window of opportunity for them to escape. He and Rachel crawled between the cars, listening as the footsteps drifted closer, then farther away as the men crept up and down each aisle.
Shane slipped a small, thin tool from his pocket and went to work on the silver Taurus they were hiding beside. The lock snicked and he opened the door softly, pushing Rachel across the seat to the passenger side and then following her inside. He pushed her down, so she was hunkered on the floorboard, and he removed the plastic panel from the underside of the steering wheel.
The footsteps were getting closer again and sweat snaked down his spine as he touched bare wires together. The car rumbled to life and he pushed down on the accelerator. Tires squealed and the smell of burned rubber was overpowering as he shot out of the parking space. A bullet pinged off the back bumper and then another shattered a taillight. Shane pulled the drivers side door shut and sat up slowly as he put more space between them and the gunmen. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the men slow to a stop. One of them already had a cell phone in his hand, probably relaying the license plate of the car they’d stolen.
Rachel sat up in her seat and calmly fastened her seatbelt once they were back on the highway. “I guess we’re going to be a few minutes late meeting Mr. Marsh.”
Shane looked over at her. Her hair was mussed, her clothes were torn and there was dirt smeared on the side of her face, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that told him she was glad to be alive. He pulled the car to the side of the road and pulled her into his arms before he could think better of it. He took her lips in a scorching kiss and fought for control over his body as he felt her melt against him, accepting him. Shane pushed her away from him before he lost it completely and pulled back into traffic.
“You’re a hell of a woman, Rachel Valentine.”
Chapter Five
Dusk was slowly creeping over the city by the time they’d found another vehicle. Smog was thick and glowed an eerie orange haze as the last rays of light disappeared. They’d found a green Ford Explorer in an overnight parking garage and taken it as a sign of luck. Traffic was congested as they wove their way down one-way streets and between skyscrapers, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as they got closer to her goal and freedom.
She’d had eight months to decide what she could do with her life once the axe hanging over her head had disappeared. New Orleans had felt like home from the moment she’d entered the city, and she knew it’s where she would return. Maybe she’d even open her own design business. But those dreams were still a lifetime away.
“I had to leave the bag with my weapons and most of the money in the pickup truck,” Shane said, disturbing her private thoughts. The more she was around Shane Quincy, the more disturbing he became. He was an odd combination—all male, potently virile in a way that made women gravitate towards him, and his protective instincts only enhanced his appeal. But though those traits were attractive to Rachel, they weren’t the ones that made her want to open herself to Shane Quincy like she had to no other man. He was wounded, a tortured soul, and Rachel recognized the symptoms in Shane only because she lived with them in herself.
“Did you hear me?” he asked. “We have little money and no guns.”
“I have a feeling you’re trying to tell me something,” Rachel said finally giving him her full attention.
“I’m telling you we have to get where we’re going on the money I have in my pocket, or until I can get in touch with my friend and have him meet me with a few necessities. I don’t want to take the chance of being seen by going back to the zoo and trying to retrieve the bag, and I especially don’t want to bodyguard my client with a piss-ant .22 and six bullets.”
“No, that doesn’t really inspire a lot of confidence. Can’t you have your office send you the things you need?”
“Anything they send can be easily traced. I’ve got good security, but people will be watching my office closely since your pal shot the hell out of it. My old squadron leader from the Marines will get us everything we need without alerting anyone.”
The Explorer turned right at a stoplight and passed the offices of Decker and Marsh.
“There’s the parking garage,” Rachel pointed out. She looked at the clock on the dash and noticed it was past six o’clock. “I hope he’s still waiting. He’s not the most patient man, especially where I’m concerned.”
“Looks like everyone has cleared out for the evening,” Shane said.
The Explorer turned into the parking garage, and Rachel saw nothing but concrete and empty parking spaces. Thick pillars sat parallel to each other like stone soldiers as they drove up the ramps to each level.
“Dammit, why does he have to be so difficult? Would it have killed him to wait half and hour? I don’t know how to get in touch with him out of the office. His home and cell number are in my phone back in New Orleans.”
“Well, hell. That is a problem, Sugar.”
Rachel watched as Shane unhooked the .22 from his ankle rig and put it on the console between them. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anyone following us.”
They climbed higher. The shadows grew darker and dread settled in the pit of Rachel’s stomach. There were too many places for one man to hide.
“It’s my fault. I’ve been a little busy since your apartment caught fire yesterday, and I didn’t ask all the questions I should have before we started out together. I guarantee whoever shot at us in New Orleans has already searched what’s left of your apartment. They’ll have your cell phone and any personal contacts you had in it, and they’ll be searching for them.”
“Oh my God, what have I done? I don’t have many people’s information in my phone because I don’t have that many close friends, but my roommate from college and a friend who had the apartment across from mine in Chicago are in there. I have to call them and warn them.”
“As soon as we get out of here,” Shane promised.
Her Uncle Angelo was ruthless, and she prayed it wasn’t too late to save Cleo and Randy’s lives. Angelo would leave no stone unturned until he had what he wanted.
They reached the top level of the parking garage and a lone black Mercedes was parked in the corner. The lights were dim and yellow and the Explorer’s engine seemed excessively loud in the quiet.
“I don’t know what kind of car he drives,” Rachel said.
“Only one way to find out.”
They parked the Explorer cross-wise behind the Mercedes so they still had easy access to the exit.
“Leave your door open. Just in case,” he told her.
Rachel got out of the car and met Shane around the other side. The .22 was down at his side and his expression was grim. When she looked at the car she understood why. Splatters of blood patterned across the windshield, and a body was hunched over the wheel.
It was a lot of blood.
“Stay back,” Shane said and moved in front of her.
Rachel appreciated the gesture, but now wasn’t the time to get squeamish. Now was the time to find the papers and get the hell out of Dodge. “That’s him,” she said as she walked around the car to get a better look at the victim’s face.
“Dammit, Rachel. I told you to stay back.”
“So I have to make you mad before you use my name instead of calling me Sugar. Something I’ll have to remember for the future. Let’s get something straight, Buttercup. I’ve hired you to protect my life, not my sensibilities. We have more
important things to worry about besides whether or not I lose my lunch. I’ve got to find those papers.”
“Whatever you say,” Shane said, putting his hands up. “I always try to accommodate the client, since you’re the one paying the bills.”
Rachel couldn’t help making him angry. It was better than breaking down in front of him and crying her eyes out, which is exactly what she wanted to do. She might be Dominic Valentine’s daughter, but this was the first dead body she’d ever seen. And she hoped it would be the last.
“His briefcase is open on the passenger seat.” Rachel reached for the door handle.
“Don’t touch anything,” Shane said tersely.
Rachel jerked her hand away from the door handle, surprised by the hardness in Shane’s voice. She watched as he went back to the Explorer and dug around until he found a couple of tissues in the glove compartment.
“Thanks,” she said as she took one from him. “I wasn’t thinking about fingerprints.”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks, Sugar. We don’t want to give local law enforcement a reason to look for us. If the FBI got wind of it, it would make things very difficult for the rest of our trip.”
“Right. Because so far things have been a breeze,” Rachel said testily. She was hurt by the harshness of his words and knew it was only a matter of time before she couldn’t pretend that the sight of Galen Marsh didn’t bother her. She used the tissue to open the door handle and found it unlocked.
The stench of death assaulted her as soon as she opened the door, and she held her arm in front of her mouth and nose to try and lessen it. But the cloying smell lingered in the back of her throat, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of it. She stepped back from the car and took a deep breath, focusing on what she had to do next.
Shane stood to the side, his expression challenging and devoid of all other emotion. It didn’t look like he was going to offer a helping hand this time around. Well, she’d asked for it, though she hadn’t thought he’d be able to cut off all his emotions like they were attached to a switch. She was Dominic Valentine’s daughter. She could do anything she set her mind to.
Rachel held her breath and bent back into the car, careful not to touch the red stains that sat in liquid pools around the body. Marsh’s briefcase lay open on the passenger seat and papers were scattered everywhere. All of them were splattered with blood. She made the mistake of looking at his face. His eyes were empty and stared straight at her, and his hair was matted with drying blood.
Rachel backed out of the car and collapsed to the ground, shoving her head between her knees as the little black dots began swimming in front of her eyes. She lost track of time as she tried to get herself under control, but she vaguely heard Shane sifting through papers, doing the job she should have been able to do.
“I don’t see any envelopes,” Shane said after a few minutes. “It looks like someone beat us to it, and now it’s time for us to disappear.”
Her stomach still felt queasy and she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her if she tried to stand. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“Not unless you want to go to jail. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a trap so we could be detained until your uncle’s FBI insider can find us and do damage control. Get in the car.”
Rachel let Shane help her to her feet and push her toward the Explorer. The sound of sirens was audible somewhere in the distance, and Shane didn’t waste any time sticking around to find out.
Rachel barely had time to close her door and grab onto the door handle before Shane floored the Explorer. They sped down the narrow ramps at a neck-breaking pace and took the turns on two wheels. The squeal of tires echoed off the concrete walls, and they shot out of the garage onto the main road like a bullet out of a pistol.
The first squad car pulled into the garage, red and blue lights flashing and siren blaring, just as they turned the corner.
“You’re insane,” Rachel said, trying to control her breathing.
“Hey, it’s all part of the bodyguard package. You’re still alive aren’t you?”
It was obvious Shane was still angry about the comment she’d made earlier. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he wasn’t just angry. He was hurt.
“Look, I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful back there. I know you were just trying to help, but I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’m not used to white knights charging to the rescue, and it’s obvious you have this need to save and protect when someone’s in trouble. I’ll be the first to admit I was wrong back there. I wasn’t prepared for it, and I didn’t handle it like I thought I’d be able to.”
“You did okay, Sugar. And I hate to disappoint you, but I’m nobody’s white knight. Never have been. Never will be.”
Rachel saw his jaw clench as he navigated them through the streets and back onto the highway. If she had dared to touch him, she knew he would have been cold as marble. What was going on in the mind of Shane Quincy? Was he really as heartless and detached as he wanted her to believe? She couldn’t believe that she’d read him wrong after he’d risked his life saving her from the fire.
“Can we just agree that we’re both approaching new territory and call a truce?” she finally said.
“Fine with me. I’d prefer to drop it if it’s all the same to you. Marsh is dead, and as far as the list is concerned, it looks like we’re on our way to Chicago,” Shane said. “Unless you sent a copy to someone else.”
“No one else has a copy.”
Shane blew out a breath and smiled, his lips thin and hard. “Well, Sugar, it looks like we’re about to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. And maybe we’ll both come out alive.”
“With an attitude like that, Sugar,” Rachel said with brow raised, “It’s a wonder you have any clients at all.”
***
Jimmy Grabbaldi waited until the dark green Explorer turned the corner before he started the engine of the nondescript, beige Volvo he’d gotten from the rental company. Angelo Valentine was not happy with Jimmy’s performance so far, and Jimmy was already dreading his punishment. Nobody screwed up Angelo Valentine’s plans and got away with it. Not even one of his top men.
He’d lost Rachel and the private detective once they’d left New Orleans, and all he had to show for his efforts were sixteen stitches in the side of his cheek where he’d been cut by a piece of flying brick after Rachel had shot at him. She was going to have to pay for that. His only option had been to head back to her apartment and wait until the scene was clear so he could do a little investigating of his own. And he’d hit pay dirt.
He’d immediately called Angelo and told him what had happened. The silence on the other end of the line had sent chills down his spine. Angelo Valentine could say a lot without uttering a word. Angelo had ordered him back to Chicago and was going to send a more competent person in his place, and that’s when Jimmy had told him what he’d found in Rachel’s apartment.
He’d gotten her phone off the nightstand and found the list of people she trusted enough to stay in contact with, even though she was in hiding. There had only been three contacts in her in her address book, two friends and her attorney, and Jimmy had relayed the information to Angelo with satisfaction. There was no doubt in Jimmy’s mind that any acquaintances of Rachel’s would be “taken care” of.
In exchange for the information Jimmy provided, Angelo decided to let him continue his search for Rachel. The FBI informant who was working on the inside for the Valentine organization had relayed the information that Rachel and her new boyfriend had been in contact with an attorney who had access to the list. Jimmy’s new assignment had been obvious, and he’d immediately headed to Dallas.
The freelance goons Angelo had hired had failed to kill Rachel and her boyfriend at the zoo, but Jimmy didn’t worry too much about Rachel. Her time would come—just as Galen Marsh’s had. Galen Marsh hadn’t died with dignity. But more importantly, Marsh hadn’t had a chance to give the list to Rachel.
/> Jimmy kept his eye on the Explorer in front of him as they merged into traffic on the highway headed north. He hit the speed dial on his phone and turned it on speaker.
“Mr. Grabbaldi. I hope you’re calling me with good news.” Angelo Valentine had the voice of a demon. It was the only thing Jimmy could think of as sweat pooled at the base of his neck and ran in rivulets down his temples. Angelo’s voice was low and gravely due to a throat injury he’d suffered as a young man, but there was nothing weak about it.
“Yes, sir. I’ve picked up Rachel Valentine and her friend in Dallas just as the informant told you. They’re headed north. I’ll wait until they stop for the night to take them out.”
“Good, good. And what about the other little problem? I assume you had no problems with that job.”
“Mr. Marsh is taken care of, sir, and the papers have been recovered.”
“Excellent, Mr. Grabbaldi. Destroy them immediately. I may decide to let you live after all.” There was a pause over the line and Jimmy could hear Angelo breathing. “Then again, maybe not.”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said as the spit dried up in his mouth, making it difficult to swallow.
“Don’t let them get to Chicago, Mr. Grabbaldi. Rachel Valentine has another copy of the list somewhere. Don’t fail me.”
The line went dead and Jimmy deliberately relaxed his cramping fingers from around the steering wheel. Rachel Valentine was headed into Oklahoma. It was the quickest way to get across the border and lose the interest of any local law enforcement. He knew from experience that Rachel and her private detective would be stuck on a two lane road for hours. He’d have to be careful not to be seen.
Jimmy turned the radio on the classical station to soothe his nerves and plan his future. He had a nice fat bank account in the Caymans, and he figured it was time for Jimmy Grabbaldi to retire. Killing Rachel Valentine would be his last job. He wasn’t going to tempt fate and give Angelo the chance to change his mind about letting him live.
