Valley of Shadows and Stranger in the Shadows: Valley of ShadowsStranger in the Shadows

by Shirlee McCoy

  * * *

  Convincing Apirak to bring her to the warehouse had taken less effort than Miranda had imagined it would. Now they were heading toward the town of Mae Hong Son, the morning mist drifting in lazy patches across the road. The sky had darkened in the time since Hawke had left, golden dawn replaced by bleak, gray clouds. It seemed an ominous warning. Was she making a mistake? Should she have stayed in Hawke’s compound? She asked herself the same questions over and over again as Apirak maneuvered through narrow streets and dim alleys. Finally, he pulled the motorcycle to a stop and climbed off. “You stay here. I’ll go find Hawke and Simon.”

  “No way. We’re supposed to stick together, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Miranda scrambled off after him, nerves making her stomach twist and churn.

  “Lady, this is not a game. This is real danger. Men with guns are going to try to kill us both if we give them a chance.”

  “Sounds exactly like the past few days. I’ll feel right at home.”

  Apirak shot her a look, his dark eyes reflecting nothing of what he felt. “Hawke will have my hide if I bring you into that warehouse.”

  “Hawke’s going to have both our hides for coming out here.” Rain began to fall in light drops that ran down Miranda’s cheeks and splattered her T-shirt. She brushed drops from her forehead and hurried to keep up with Apirak. She didn’t know where the warehouse was located, knew nothing about the small town she was hurrying through and had no desire to get lost in it.

  “With good reason. He’s trying to keep you safe. Bringing you here isn’t going to accomplish that.”

  “But we’re doing it, so let’s just get over the fact that I’m going to be in danger and get this done.”

  Apirak shot her another glance, this time something like amusement glowing in the depth of his gaze. “I can see why Hawke enjoys being around you.”

  “He doesn’t enjoy it. He feels he has no choice.”

  “Because you saved his life. So he told me, but I don’t think that’s the only reason. Come on—” he grabbed her elbow and pulled her into a narrow alley “—the warehouse is just outside of town.”

  “Do you think Jack is already there?”

  “I wish I did. He was a half hour out when we spoke.”

  “We could call in the police.”

  “Not yet. The police go running in there with guns drawn and people will die. We can’t risk that one of those people will be Hawke or Simon.”

  “So we’re going in there alone?”

  “I am going in there alone. You are staying outside and staying hidden.”

  “But—”

  “Do you have a gun?”

  “No.”

  “Know how to use one?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then the only thing you can do is get in the way.” They stepped out of the alley and crossed a field of knee-deep grass. In the distance, mist danced around a brick building, touching piles of trash and beat-up old clunkers that were parked nearby.

  “That’s it. The warehouse. We’ve got to move in slow and stay close to the ground. I’ll find you a safe spot when we get nearer. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Which wasn’t saying much. As far as Miranda was concerned a life of intrigue and danger was something she could do without.

  “Then let’s go.” Apirak moved forward, hunching down so that the long grass partially hid him. Between that and the heavy mist, he became almost invisible, his silent movements causing him to blend effortlessly with his surroundings. Miranda’s own movements were more awkward, her hunched, sliding shuffle producing too much noise and motion. If anyone were watching from the warehouse, they’d see her for sure.

  She could only pray no one was watching.

  With every step, the warehouse came into sharper focus—worn bricks, broken windows, a parking lot half full of broken-down cars—it seemed a lonely abandoned place. If people were in it, there was no evidence. No cars, no lights, nothing that would indicate occupancy.

  She and Apirak approached from the front, a double-wide door and dangling faded sign indicating the entrance. They were a few hundred yards away when the door banged open. Before Miranda could react, she was on the ground, Apirak pressing her down into moist grass and earth. “Stay here. I’ve got to see what’s happening.”

  He crept away before she could respond, slithering like a snake toward the building. For a moment, Miranda felt disorientated, not sure if she should do as he said, slink back the way they’d come or move forward. She levered up just a little, saw several men moving out of the building. She caught a glimpse of dark clothes and guns, and felt the same sense of determination she’d felt the night she’d met Hawke. She hadn’t been able to turn her back when he was a stranger. Nor could she do it now.

  Slowly, one soft slide after another, she moved toward the warehouse and the men.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Timing was everything. Hawke knew it. And so he waited, letting Austin and his men take his weapon, search him for the documents and then force him outside, his hands tied behind his back, Simon shuffling along beside him. The procession moved toward an old jeep that looked as junky as any of the other vehicles abandoned in the parking lot, the tension in the air as thick as the morning mist.

  “Those documents better be in your car, Morran.” Austin’s face and neck were flushed with irritation and anger, but there was worry in his eyes and a sheen of sweat on his brow. Time was running out and he knew it.

  “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” Hawke kept his voice bland, not willing to be pulled into the other man’s emotion. If he were going to get his brother out of this alive, he needed a cool head and quick reflexes. A little divine help wouldn’t hurt, either. Lord, I know I’m coming to You a little late in my life and I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I finally believe what my parents told me. I finally believe You gave everything up for me and I’m ready and willing to give it all up for You. If this is the end for me, I’m prepared, but please don’t let it be the end for Simon. Help me get him out of this alive.

  He said the prayer quickly, his muscles tensing as one of Austin’s men shoved Simon into the Jeep. This was it. The time to make his move. And it better be a good one.

  A sweep of his foot brought Austin down. A swing of Hawke’s bound wrists to his neck kept him there. Hawke spun, lifting his arms to block the blow one of Sharee’s men was aiming his way. His wrist went numb, but he ignored it and swung for the man’s face, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone against bone.

  Someone shouted, the words not registering as Hawke slammed his knee into another man’s stomach. Simon was out of the Jeep now, head-butting a third man. If they could get a gun, get the keys to the Jeep, they just might have a chance.

  More men poured from the warehouse. Ten, maybe more. Hawke tried not to think of the odds stacked against him.

  “Find the keys, Simon. We need to get out of here!” He shouted the words as he reached for Austin’s fallen gun. A volley of shots and the ground near his feet exploded. He dove for cover, rolling under the Jeep, his gaze searching for Simon and finding him crouching behind a pile of garbage.

  “Get out of here, kid. They won’t shoot me. Not until they have what they want, but they’ve got no qualms about doing away with you.”

  “No way, bro. If we go down, we go down together.”

  “Then let’s both get out of here. If we can’t get the Jeep, maybe we can outrun them.” It was hopeless. Hawke knew it, but trying for freedom was better than sitting and waiting for recapture. “On the count of three.” He met Simon’s eyes, saw his own hopelessness and determination reflected there.

  “One. T—”

  Another barrage of bullets followed the first, this ti
me coming from the behind Hawke. He glanced back, saw Jack McKenzie and three other men crouched down and moving in.

  “Move, Morran. We’ll cover you.”

  Hawke didn’t wait for another invitation. He met Simon’s gaze again. Nodded. And ran.

  * * *

  This was as close to war as Miranda ever hoped to get. From her vantage point behind a garbage can, she watched as several of Sharee’s men fell to the ground. The rest dove for cover, firing shots wildly as they went. Hawke and a dark-haired young man were running toward Jack McKenzie. They wove and zigzagged, bullets flying too close for comfort as they went. Apirak had disappeared at the first sound of gunfire, slipping into mist and shadows. Miranda imagined he was slipping closer to Sharee’s people, hoping to get a clearer shot.

  She, on the other hand, was cowering behind garbage and praying for all she was worth. It seemed the battle went on for an eternity, gunfire being exchanged, shouts and groans and a harsh metallic scent hanging in the air. Then, as quickly as it started, it ended, the world falling silent. Not even a bird or a chirping cricket breaking the stillness.

  In the silence, Miranda could hear every beat of her heart, feel the mad pulsing of her terror. She wanted to run, but had no idea who had won the battle or if it had been won at all. Had no idea which direction she should go if she decided to run. Toward the building? Away from it?

  She slid down on her belly, slowly, cautiously moving backward, sure that at any moment her movement would attract attention and bullets would fly once again. Something wrapped around her ankle and Miranda jumped, barely stifling a scream as she scrambled to her knees, pivoting to face her attacker.

  The dark hair, scarred face and quick-silver eyes were so familiar Miranda felt as if she’d been seeing them every day for years. She scrambled to her feet, relief coursing through her. “Hawke.”

  “Didn’t you give your word that you’d stay with Apirak?” Hawke growled the words, his irritation obvious.

  Miranda didn’t care. She was so glad he was okay—that at least for now they were safe—that she lurched toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist, clinging tight, sure she would be happy to stay that way forever. “Is it over?”

  “Close. Jack and his men are cleaning things up, trying to pull Sharee’s men out of any holes they might be hiding in. So—” he leaned back so he could look down at her “—we were discussing the fact that you broke your word.”

  “Actually, I didn’t. Apirak is here.”

  “It’s true.” Apirak stepped into view. “We came together.”

  “As if that makes it a good thing.” Hawke scowled, but there was a lightness to his expression that Miranda hadn’t seen before, a peace that emanated from him.

  “Your brother is okay?” Miranda asked the question, though she was sure she already knew the answer. Hawke wouldn’t be so relaxed if his brother was injured or in danger.

  “Simon is good.” Hawke wrapped his arm around Miranda’s shoulder as if he didn’t want to let her out of his sight again. “There he is. With Jack.” Hawke gestured to the man Miranda had seen running beside him before the battle began.

  “He’s young.”

  “Thirteen years younger than me. Come meet him.” He led her toward the other men, his stride easy and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Maybe he did. He was home now. Safe. And soon Miranda would be returning home, as well. The thought brought a sadness she hadn’t expected to feel. She swallowed it back as she greeted Simon and Jack. Sirens sounded in the distance and a police car raced into sight, pulling into the parking lot, a marked truck following close behind it. Men leaped from the vehicles and fanned out to cuff and escort men to the waiting transportation.

  This was it then. The truth would be revealed. She and Hawke would be cleared. Life would go on the way it always had. Except that Justin wouldn’t be in it. And she would never be the same. Her loss, the things she’d been through, seemed carved into the very fiber of her being. She leaned against an old car, listening as the men spoke, their words flowing over her in strangely comforting waves.

  Until chaos broke out again. A gunshot, a shout, a police officer falling to the ground.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” a tall, thin American spoke, his face swollen and splattered with blood, his voice empty of emotion, a gun held to the head of the police officer who stood in front of him.

  “It’s too late for that, Austin.” Jack spoke quietly, a weariness in his tone that Miranda thought must come from facing someone once trusted and now proven untrustworthy.

  “I’ve hurt no one, Jack. Not yet. And I don’t plan to. Just give me some time to talk to my wife and kids. Then I’ll turn myself in.” As lies went, this one wasn’t convincing, the words of a desperate man and nothing more.

  “I think you know it doesn’t work that way. Put the gun down. Killing a man won’t accomplish your goals.”

  “But it will buy me some time.” He pulled the trigger, firing past the officer as he moved backward, the shot landing several feet away. The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. Standing beside Hawke and Apirak, Jack pulled his gun. All of their focus was on Austin. Miranda’s own gaze was trained in that direction, but something drew her attention, a subtle shifting in the air, a warning of danger that had her turning. A man lurched up from the tall grass, a gun drawn and pointed at the nearest target.

  “Simon! Watch out!” Miranda yelled the warning, hurled herself toward the young man, pushing him out of the way.

  Something slammed into her chest, throwing her backward, stealing her breath. She gasped, trying for air that wouldn’t come, something hot and thick sliding down her arm. She tried to wipe it away, but couldn’t move, her body weighted and pressing ever deeper into the welcoming earth.

  The sound of more gunfire came as if from a distance, dull reports that danced at the edge of Miranda’s conscience. Her eyes drifted closed, but she forced them open, trying to turn her head to see if Simon was okay.

  “Babe!” Hawke was there, kneeling beside her, his face pale, his expression stark and raw.

  “Simon…”

  “Is fine. Don’t talk, okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Or maybe not. Her vision blurred, her head swam and darkness pressed in on her. She kept her eyes open, afraid to let go, afraid of what would happen if she did.

  “I said don’t talk. You’re bleeding. This is going to hurt.” He pressed against her shoulder and the pain she hadn’t felt exploded through her, stealing the light. This time, she didn’t fight it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It hurt to breathe. That was Miranda’s first thought. The second came as she opened her eyes. She was alive.

  “Miranda?” The voice was familiar, but not the one she must have been subconsciously hoping for. She turned her head, meeting Lauren’s bright blue eyes.

  “Lauren. Am I back home?” No. That didn’t make sense. She was in a hospital, a television running monotonous, unintelligible tones.

  “You’re in Bangkok. You were flown here five days ago. I came as soon as I was called. Max is here, too. He’s gone to get coffee. We’ve been worried sick about you. Why didn’t you tell me the truth, Miranda? How could you let me think you were a criminal?” Lauren sniffed, but there were no tears in her eyes. Nor was there concern or any of the other things Miranda might have hoped for.

  “I tried to tell you. You chose not to believe me.” Her throat hurt and she was desperate for the water she could see sitting on the table beside her bed. She tried to reach for it, but the simple movement sent pain shooting through her shoulder and chest.

  “You could have tried harder, Miranda. All those interviews I had with the press, telling them that you were just confused, that you’d been pulled in by a man more worldly than you.” She shook her
head, bit her too-perfect lips. “I look like a fool.”

  “Sorry.” Miranda had no energy to say anything more, and she closed her eyes to block out the sight of her sister.

  “You’re not going back to sleep before Max gets back, are you? He’s been beside himself with worry.”

  Miranda forced her eyes open again, saw that Lauren was peering down at her. “At least one of you was.”

  “You’re not implying that I wasn’t worried?”

  “Of course not, Lauren.”

  “I know you’ve been through a lot, but I don’t think that gives you the right to be snooty.”

  Miranda responded with a question she’d wanted to ask since she’d opened her eyes. “Where’s Hawke?”

  “Hawke? The man with the scar, you mean?”

  “Hawke.”

  “I sent him away. Max and I thought seeing him would bring back bad memories.”

  “Sent him away? When?”

  “Five or six times since I got here. I’m hoping this time it sticks. He’s not your type, Miranda. You know that, don’t you?”

  “How would you know what my type is?” The question slipped out and Miranda was glad. Her pain was increasing by the minute, her throat hot and tight. She wanted to ask for a drink of water, but opted for feigning sleep instead. Better to ignore Lauren than to fight with her.

  She heard a door open, knew it must be Max returning, but didn’t have any desire to see even him, her pain becoming so intense, her fatigue so overwhelming, she didn’t have the energy to even open her eyes.

  “She woke up for a minute, but went right back under. I still think we should transfer her home now. She’ll get better faster there.” Lauren’s words seemed muffled, her inflections oddly out of sync.

  “You know she’s not stable enough for that, Laur. Did you tell her I was here?”

  “Yes. She seemed less than impressed.”

  “What do you expect? She’s been through three surgeries… .” His words faded away as the pain dragged Miranda back under.