by Nancy Gideon
“Be careful. Don’t let them see you, and don’t try doing anything about them on your own. We’re in this together. Don’t you forget that.”
“I love you, Charlotte.”
“And don’t you forget that, either.”
THEY RODE IN silence, both caught up in the same thoughts and concerns. Finally, Cee Cee glanced at Max. He was studying her hands and feet as they worked the shift and clutch. Sensing her attention, his gaze flickered up in question. She didn’t look pleased.
“You’re not going to try and, like, read my mind, are you? You’d tell me if you could, right?”
He grinned at her touchy tone. “Depends. Is there anything particularly interesting on your mind that you’d prefer I not know?”
She glared at the road ahead. “I’m serious, Savoie.”
“I can see that you are. Afraid I might pick up some interesting information on, say, Alain Babineau?”
She looked perplexed. “What could possibly interest you…oh.”
“You brought it up, detective. You might say you rubbed my face in it.”
“I was trying to provoke you.”
“You succeeded.” He waited for a patient minute or two, then demanded, “Tell me.”
“He has nothing to do with us.”
“I can make you tell me.”
She laughed. “No, you can’t. You don’t scare me, and I don’t think you have the self-control to go without sex for another thirty years, beast that you are.”
“We’ll see who has the better self-control, detective.” And he leaned over to tongue her ear and tug at the small gold hoop she still wore. The low vibration he made sounded suspiciously like her engine.
“Stop it, Savoie. I’m trying to drive here.” She reached up to lightly smack his head, and suddenly, the playful mood was gone. She gasped, her body bowing, her eyes rolling back. The car jerked across the lanes in a frantic zigzag before she could wrestle it under control and screech to a stop on the shoulder. She sat pressed back against the seat, eyes shut, her body shuddering.
“Charlotte? Charlotte, what’s wrong?”
The sound of his voice shocked her back to awareness. She whipped around to face him, her eyes huge and glazed, breath ragged, brow and neck slick with sweat.
“Holy geez,” she gasped. “Holy geez, what the hell was that?”
He blinked, at a loss. “What was what? Charlotte, I don’t—”
She seized him by the ears, yanking him to her to devour his surprise-slackened mouth with hard, hurried bites and determined thrusts of her tongue. The blast of the horn from a passing semi snapped her frenzied state. She pushed away as abruptly as she’d grabbed him, then sat frozen, panting, staring at him as he touched fingertips to his bruised lips in baffled amazement.
“Charlotte—”
She put up a staying hand that trembled wildly. “Don’t say anything. Just sit there. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even think for a minute. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She scrubbed wet palms on her pant legs, then wiped the dampness from her face. She was shivering uncontrollably as she shifted and guided the car back onto the road. They were cruising down the busy avenues before she finally pieced her fractured system back together. Max was still watching her, silent, alarmed, and uncertain.
“How did you do that?” she asked in awe.
“I wasn’t aware I was doing anything. What did I do?”
What indeed? She’d never experienced…no, that wasn’t quite true. Once, as he’d said her name, as he’d sunk his teeth into her flesh to seal their bonding. Those same sensations had rocked her and left her hot and reeling.
“Geez,” she muttered to herself, her insides still quivering. “No wonder it’s for life. Who’d ever walk away from that?”
“What? You’re not making any sense, detective.”
She slid him a speculative smile. “We’ll discuss it later, Savoie. In depth and in meticulous detail. Just not while I’m driving. And here I didn’t think perks got any better than frequent flyer miles.” She reached over to rub the sleeve of his leather jacket, then was distracted by her cell ringing. “Caissie,” she all but purred.
“Ceece, is Oscar with you?”
“Ozzy? No, why? Babs, what’s going on?” The frazzled tone of her partner’s voice had her gripping Max’s arm. “What’s happened?”
“There’s something going down at his school. He’s not in his classroom.”
“I’ll meet you there in less than five. Alain,” she made her words firm and convincing, “I’m sure he’s fine.”
COLLIER ELEMENTARY WAS in chaos. Teachers tried to herd weeping, frightened children into organized groups. Parents raced wildly across the lawn and parking lot searching for the faces of their little ones. Fire trucks blocked the street, and hoses snaked across the sidewalks to doors that billowed black smoke.
Tina Babineau stood in her front yard, her hands gripped together as if in prayer, her pretty face pale as death. When Cee Cee squealed to a stop on the driveway next to her, she ran to Max as he leapt out of the car. He held her so she could see his face and hear the calm rumble of his voice as Cee Cee came up beside them.
“Tell us what you know, Tina.”
“When I heard the alarm and saw the classes come outside, I thought it was a routine fire drill. Then I saw the smoke and fire trucks.” She broke off when her husband’s vehicle bounced up over the curb, popping a tire as it tore grooves in the grass. She rushed into his arms. Alain crushed her close, then the same competent control in Charlotte’s face settled over his.
“Tina, where’s Oscar?”
She took a breath. “I found his class, but he wasn’t with them. He wasn’t anywhere around. One of his friends said he saw some men in the hallway—not firemen or policemen, not parents. One of them had Oscar by the arm, pulling him the other way.”
Max had turned toward the school building. His eyes half closed as he stood with an eerie stillness, scenting the breeze before announcing softly, “It’s not a fire. It’s a ploy, a distraction. To get Oscar.”
At his wife’s terrified cry, Babineau demanded furiously, “How could you know that?”
Cee Cee placed a hand on his arm. “Believe him. Can you tell where he is, Max?”
“Not in the building.” Max flipped open his phone to quickly dial, then asked tersely, “Nigel, where is he? Who are they? How many? Nigel—are you there? Nigel?” He swore softly. He looked to Cee Cee, mouth thinning grimly. “They took out the men I had on the boy.”
That was enough for Babineau. “What the hell is going on here? Savoie, if you have anything to do with what’s happened to Oscar, I’m going to shoot you where you stand.”
Max’s keen gaze swept the street, fixing on an unmarked Expedition with tinted windows coming way too fast, weaving between rescue vehicles and startled pedestrians. Without a word, Max charged into its path and, even as Cee Cee was screaming his name, jumped up onto the hood of the vehicle. He held to the windshield wiper with one hand while using his elbow to crack the thick glass. A quick jerk of the SUV sent him rolling, skidding off the hood to hit the pavement hard, but he was on his feet before Cee Cee, Alain, and Tina could reach him.
“Keys,” he demanded of a startled Charlotte.
“You don’t know how to drive,” she sputtered as her gaze flew over him in search of possible damage.
“I learned on the way over. Stay here with Tina.”
“The hell I will,” she growled as he snatched the key ring from her hand.
Babineau looked at his flat tire in frustration, then grabbed Max’s arm. “I’m with you.”
“Come on then.” And he was up and over the hood of the Nova, pausing when Cee Cee shouted his name. Meeting her penetrating stare as she said, softly, fiercely, “Be careful.” With a nod, he was beneath the wheel and the car was in motion even before Babineau could shut the door. Gears ground, and the vehicle shuddered and lunged. Zero to sixty in a
heartbeat.
EVEN BELTED IN, Babineau hung on to the dash to keep himself from being snapped side to side as Max threaded in and out of the heavy traffic. He’d thought Cee Cee was hell on wheels, but Savoie was fearless. With the timing and coordination of an Indy driver, he put the pedal to the floor, whipping through red lights, chewing up the shoulder, barreling down the oncoming lane with unflinching concentration. And no apparent knowledge of traffic laws.
“Who the hell taught you to drive? The Speed Channel?”
“Watch for them. We should be catching up to them any second.”
Babineau glanced at the speedometer. Ninety plus in a residential zone. “Unless you want to catch up to tomorrow you’d better ease it down.”
“Don’t you want him back, detective?”
Babineau glared. “Of course I do. What I don’t know is why it matters so damned much to you.”
“He’s my brother.”
Alain could think of no reply.
“There they are.”
The big vehicle was racing along an adjacent street, heading toward Highway 10. And ahead of them was a line of stalled traffic.
“Savoie, you’re going to have to slow down. Max, slow down. Sonofabitch, slow down!”
The car jolted up onto the sidewalk, clipping newspaper boxes and filling the air behind them with the confettied early edition. Then he was back on the street, slicing across five lanes of blaring horns like a knife through hot corn bread, and slick as you please roared onto the highway.
Max glanced at Babineau’s white face. “Charlotte will be mighty annoyed if you ruin her seats.”
“I’ll try to control my bodily functions if you won’t be quite so determined to end them.” He took a shaky breath. “Explain brother to me.”
“We share the same father. I don’t know any of the particulars.”
“Why didn’t Tina tell me?” This was said more to himself.
“I’m not sure she knows.”
“So that makes you . . .” He couldn’t get the word out.
Max flashed a quick grin. “Family. Yes, it does. Can I call you Daddy?” Then he was all serious business as he sent the boxy little car shuddering into a lightning-fast lane change.
“Who are these people, and what do they want with my boy?”
“They want my father’s son—and failing that, they’ll want me.”
“Why?”
“Let’s ask them.”
The 427-cubic-inch big block growled up behind the slick SUV.
“Shall we knock first?”
Bumpers tapped.
No response.
“They’re not taking us anyplace we want to go. It’s better if we stop them here.”
“On the damn overpass? With no backup? Are you crazy?”
“No more than Oscar is.”
Another hard knock, metal to metal.
“I don’t think they’re taking us seriously.” Max cut the wheel sharply and tromped down on the accelerator. The gutsy little car surged forward, flying up alongside the powerful Expedition.
Babineau drew his gun.
“That’s not going to help. Let me take them. You get the boy and go. Don’t look back.”
“And leave you?” Alain stared, amazed, then he snorted. “Cee Cee would kill me. We’re in this together, Max, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t like it much. Just don’t get in my way.”
A barking laugh. “Your way? I’m the cop here.”
“They’re not going to care about that. And you’re not going to stop them with what you’re packing in that gun. Let me handle it, detective. This isn’t about ego. It’s about the boy.”
The two vehicles paced one another for several miles. When there were miles of nothing but empty concrete and swamp ahead and behind, Max gunned it to pull ahead and cut the other off. The monstrous SUV elbowed sharply into them, flipping the lightweight vehicle and sending it skidding and sparking down the road on its black roof.
When the Nova stopped, Babineau hung upside down from his seat belt, blood running into his eyes from where he’d smacked his nose on the dash. Max crawled out of the vehicle and ran toward the maimed Expedition. The tinted driver’s window rolled down to expose a lethal gun barrel. Max took hold of the shooter’s wrist and didn’t let go even as he took two close-range bullets in the chest. He jerked the driver out, door and all, and leapt into the vehicle.
Things greyed out for a moment as Babineau struggled to release his belt. Through blurry eyes, he saw Max Savoie round the rear of the Expedition with Oscar in his arms. He tried to pull his gun, blinking to clear his eyes so he could back Max up. The doors to the SUV were flung open.
And as Babineau watched in dismay, Max vaulted over the guardrail and disappeared, plunging with Oscar into the bog some thirty feet below.
TINA AND CEE CEE raced out of the house when the squad car dropped Alain off at the door. Both stopped when they saw his bloodstained clothes and bandaged head. And the fact that he was alone.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He dropped down heavily on the front steps, head in his hands, unable to look either woman in the eye.
“Oscar? Where’s Oscar?” Tina demanded.
“He’s with Max.”
Before Tina could release a breath of relief, Alain told her the rest of it, concluding miserably with, “We’ve got choppers up and men on the ground. It’s only a matter of time before they’re spotted.”
Tina nodded, tears glittering on her lashes. “I’ll get you some clean clothes. You’ll want a shower and a meal before you go back out.”
Babineau waited until she went inside to grip Cee Cee’s hand.
“How bad?” she asked tersely.
“They shot him twice, point-blank in the chest. Didn’t even stop him. He went over the rail with the boy. Chances are it’s not so much a search and rescue, as it is a recovery.”
Cee Cee never flinched. “Did he fall or did he jump?”
“He jumped.”
She released a shaky breath. “Max will keep him safe. Don’t underestimate him. Don’t you dare give up on them.”
Her partner stared up at her through weary eyes and said nothing. Not when they joined the search team for the remainder of the day. Not when the search was suspended for the night as a thick fog rolled in. He asked her to stay at their little house so they could get an early start together. And she lay in Oscar’s twin bed, listening to Tina Babineau sob, her own eyes dry and her heart aching at the thought of Max and the boy out in the swamps alone.
She woke to pale darkness, her pulse pounding, her body crippled with pain and fever. She lay still, letting the sensations roll over her—the fear, the hurt, the desperation. And reached out.
I’m here, baby. Don’t be afraid. You’re not alone. Show me where you are.
Nineteen
MAX, CAN WE go home yet?”
He dragged his eyes open. Oscar was crouched at his side, dirty, shivering, looking miserable but not complaining. He smiled faintly. Brave kid.
“Not yet. Soon. Just stay quiet.”
“Okay. You want me to pack some more mud? You’re bleeding again.”
He blinked slowly and glanced down. One bullet had gone under his arm and out his back—nothing serious if he could get it to stop oozing. The other was a bit more worrisome, low below his collarbone, lodged deep where it made it difficult for him to breathe. Both bullets had been silver and probably would have killed him in minutes. That’s what they’d be thinking, so maybe they weren’t still following.
Maybe.
The blood was his bigger concern—keeping it from dripping in the stagnant water, from scenting the air. He knew what it would bring once it got good and dark, and he feared that more than those who’d been tracking them.
Oscar eased the leather coat from his shoulder, features tightening at Max’s low groan. He moved the makeshift bandages and covered the wounds with more of the slimy muck.
“Why don�
��t you just make them go away?”
“What?”
“Fix them. You can do that, too, can’t you?” When Max just stared, he shifted uneasily and explained. “When I was little, I climbed out onto the roof to sit in the rain. I wasn’t supposed to, but it was so hot and the air smelled so good. You know?”
Max returned his smile. “Yeah, I know.”
“Well, I slipped on the wet tiles and fell. I broke my wrist. I couldn’t tell my mama because I wasn’t supposed to be up there, but it hurt really bad. And I…I sort of made it go away. If you tried, you could do that, too.”
“I could, yeah. But they’d know, and it would bring them here before I’m ready for them.”
Oscar was all attentive interest. “What are you going to do, Max?”
“Wait until morning, when it starts to get light. I’ll bring them here and while you run, I’ll make sure they never hurt you or scare you again.”
The boy regarded him solemnly. “You’re going to kill them. Alain told me sometimes that’s the only way to stop really bad things from happening again. He’s had to kill people, but he doesn’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but they have to be stopped. They can’t be allowed to tell anyone else what they’ve found out about us.”
“Are they the ones who killed my grandparents?”
“I think so. We have to let them think they’ve gotten the best of us, that we’re no threat to them. And then . . .”
Oscar’s smile was as cool and calculated as his own. “Then we give ’em a big surprise.”
“Exactly.”
“But Max, I’m not going to just run off and leave you.”
“You have to do what I tell you, Ozzy, or you’ll ruin the surprise. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
“No, Max.” He finished binding the wounds and wrapped the heavy coat back up around him, noticing how badly he was shaking. “Are you cold, too?”
“Just not feeling very good. I’ll be better in the morning. Don’t let me go to sleep, Ozzy. You keep me awake. Can you do that?”
“Sure, Max.” His voice was small and weighted with upset.
“C’mere. Sit here by me. We’ll keep each other company and won’t be so cold.” The boy burrowed up against his good side, settling in as Max pulled part of his coat about the boy’s narrow shoulders. “We’ll be fine, Oscar.”
