Die Run Hide

by P. M. Kavanaugh

  But the intense burning wasn’t the worst part. It was the paralysis that followed.

  Chapter 27

  Anika fought the numbness. She commanded her arms and legs to move and they obeyed, thrashing in all directions. Her hand smacked something. A loud crash followed.

  Instinct rolled her into a crouch. She fell off an edge and landed on a hard surface. Her head erupted in pain and she strangled back a cry.

  Where am I? What crashed? Why is it so dark?

  Her hand reached out, searching for a weapon, any weapon. She touched something cold and firm and wrapped her fingers around a curved shape. A base. To a lamp.

  Memory flooded back.

  She was in the cottage where she had collapsed after returning from dinner at the Estradas. She had knocked over the bedside lamp that now lay on the floor next to her.

  The darkness confirmed night still blanketed the outside. The headache that had started during dinner had intensified.

  She pressed her hands against her temples to try to stop the hammering.

  What’s wrong with me?

  She didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

  She had a mission to complete. No, not a mission. More important than a mission. She had to warn Gianni. He had saved her in Budapest. Now it was her turn to save him.

  She tried to stand, but her head roared in protest and she fell onto the bed.

  Block the pain. Focus on your breath.

  Something wasn’t right. She knew Gianni was in trouble because of her. But why? What had she done? She was supposed to wait for him, wasn’t she? But for how long? Two days, three?

  She tried to remember, but her head hurt so much and her throat was like sandpaper.

  Water.

  Maybe that would help. Then she might remember.

  She eased her eyes open, wiggled off the edge of the bed and lowered herself to a sitting position on the floor. As long as she moved in slow motion, she could tolerate the pounding. She pushed herself forward onto her hands and knees and started crawling. The kitchen was so far away. Still, she had to get there. Gianni’s life depended on it.

  Advance right hand, shift weight, follow with left knee. Switch sides. Left hand, right knee. Again.

  Her limbs were heavy, like someone had attached weights to her wrists and ankles. If only she could rest.

  No. Don’t stop.

  She came abreast of the chair closest to the kitchen. Almost there. Her breath came in quick gasps and sweat trickled down the sides of her face.

  She had to rest. Just for a breath. Then she would start again. She bent her arms and lowered herself to the floor. Her cheek pressed against the wood and her eyes closed.

  She was back inside the blast-proof container all set for the museum mission.

  No, wait, that can’t be right.

  That mission was over. She had stopped it. To save the girl. Even though it had cost her. And Gianni.

  Gianni.

  She stirred. She had to warn him. But she was so tired. So thirsty. And the nightmare was grabbing hold again.

  • • •

  Anika’s security system buzzed. She had just returned to her loft after the Budapest mission debriefing. She checked the monitor and decided to ignore the man on her doorstep.

  Gianni waited twelve seconds, then let himself in.

  “You’re cleared.” They stood facing each other in her entryway. “You’ll be officially notified tomorrow.” His face moved within inches of hers. “Why did you let go of the dealer?”

  “I’ve just spent the past three hours in debrief. I need some time. Alone.” Her nerve endings were raw as if the protective sheaths had been stripped off.

  She tried to turn away, but Gianni gripped her arm. More bruises.

  “Let go.”

  She could feel the pent up energy in him, like a live wire humming with lethal voltage. She struck at him then, fueled by her anger and shame.

  He took the blow and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her backwards until she was pinned against the wall. His breath blew hot on her cheeks.

  “Why?” The vein at the side of his jaw throbbed.

  She had never seen him so angry. “I thought I heard — ”

  He pressed his fingers against her lips and the words died in her throat. “Don’t. Think.” Gianni bit off each word. “Don’t think,” he repeated. He ran his fingers back and forth across her bottom lip, setting off mini-sparks. “Follow orders. Do what you’re told.”

  A scream built inside her and threatened to engulf them both. But she stared into his eyes and saw, for the first time, something behind the anger.

  Something deeper, more raw. Fear. For her. For what might have happened if the dealer’s aim had been a fraction more accurate.

  “Next time … ” His voice hoarsened, his hold softened. “Do what you’re told.”

  He covered her mouth with his and poured himself into her.

  She returned his kiss, matching its intensity. Her braid loosened in his fingers and she roped her arms around him.

  They slid to the floor, grabbing at each other’s fasteners and straps, tugging off boots, pants, jackets to get to the warm flesh underneath.

  Gianni covered her breast with his mouth and Anika arched against him, digging her fingers into his back.

  She pushed him back against their pile of clothes and straddled him.

  He tried to pull her toward him, but she leaned back and grabbed his forearms.

  Slowly, never taking her eyes from his, she brought his right hand to her breast and held it there.

  “Don’t think.” She slid his other hand down the center of her torso, toward her abdomen, then lower still. “Do what you’re told.”

  In the aftermath of their lovemaking, the flashbacks came. Again and again, she dreamed the sequence of events, starting with the break-in to the dealer’s bedroom and ending with Sommer’s charred face in the transport.

  Her own cries awakened her.

  Gianni pulled her close and listened as she choked out the sickening images that invaded her mind. His low murmurs soothed her and his arms and legs wrapped around her shaking body until she fell back into an exhausted sleep. He stayed with her for three days and nights.

  When her orders came to report back in, she passed through the agency’s security checkpoints with weighted steps, her senses on high alert. She jumped at the clatter of a handheld hitting the cement floor and at the hiss of doors opening into the conference room. Her heart beat faster with every minute that brought her closer to a new field mission.

  To her surprise, she was given a routine surveillance assignment. For the next month, she was kept out of the field to supervise trainees, run alternative scenarios, and perform remote monitoring of global hot spots. Although she couldn’t prove it, she knew Gianni was behind the tedious but safe assignments.

  They never spoke of those days and nights together. The next time she saw him was right after the briefing for her first mission back in the field. Her pulse quickened at the sight of his tall lean figure, his dark-blond hair smoothed back into a half-ponytail. She intercepted him where the corridor flowed into Hub.

  “I didn’t know you were here.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  “I just got back.” His eyes scanned over her head and across her shoulders. “Is there something you wanted?”

  “I’m going into the field again.”

  “I know.” His eyes settled on a point over her shoulder.

  “I feel ready, thanks to you.”

  He acknowledged her comment with a brief nod.

  “I should be back tomorrow night. I could cook for a change,” she said, even though she didn’t have a clue what she would make if he agreed. She remembered the feel of his hands on her, his breath warm and soft against her neck as they lay next to each other.

  “I can’t.” He didn’t offer an explanation, but began to step past her. She blocked his way. “Command is waiting. I have to go.”

&
nbsp; Anika’s hands fisted. “Why did you bother?”

  His eyes met hers for an instant. They were distant, closed. “You have potential.”

  His words hit like a body blow and she rocked back on her heels.

  He hadn’t said, “Because I was worried.” Or, “Because I care.” Only that she had potential. As an operative.

  She fought back the hurt and anger, stepped aside, and let him go.

  Weeks later, without notice, he had shown up at her door and stayed through the night. They picked up where they had left off, as lovers who didn’t speak of love.

  • • •

  Now, in her delirium, Anika dreamed that Gianni was again taking care of her. He placed a cool cloth on her forehead and covered her with extra blankets. Despite her aching head and sore muscles, she was happy. He had arrived at last and now things would be different between them.

  She needed to tell him something. He was in danger and she had to warn him. But why? The reason eluded her like minnows darting out of reach in a cloudy pond.

  And something about him wasn’t right. His voice was different. He didn’t call her “cara.” Who was Jane? Was that the woman whose voice she also heard?

  Gianni and the woman spoke to each other in hushed tones.

  What were they saying?

  Anika struggled to make sense of what was happening, but she was so tired, so tired that she fell back into darkness and slept.

  When her fever broke, she awoke to the muted sound of waves rolling up on the shore and to Roberto’s gentle snores.

  He dozed in a chair next to the bed with his head straight back and his arms at his sides. One hand twitched as he slept.

  With the shutters closed, a somber light bathed the room.

  She raised herself up on one elbow. Big mistake. The room tilted. She lay back and pressed her hand to her forehead, willing the dizziness away. Pale yellow fabric covered her arm in a loose sleeve. She lowered her hand to her chest and touched the same fabric. A T-shirt.

  Wasn’t I wearing a short-sleeved shirt when I crawled into bed? And long pants?

  She moved her legs under the blankets. The covers brushed across bare skin.

  What time is it? What day?

  She turned her head, moving so the dizziness wouldn’t overtake her, and focused her eyes on Roberto. Her hand crept between the mattresses in search of the Glock.

  The front door swung open. She dropped her hand and let it hang over the side of the bed.

  Maggie stepped inside. Her gaze landed on her sleeping husband and froze. Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. Her reaction didn’t make sense to Anika. The dim light must have created an illusion of anger.

  Maggie’s gaze traveled to hers and widened. A smile swept away the hardness. She walked across the room.

  “How do you feel?” She placed the back of her hand on Anika’s forehead.

  “Better. How long has it been?”

  “Two days. How’s your leg?” Anika stared blankly at Maggie. “I noticed the bandage when I removed your pants. It looked like it needed changing. I added an herbal treatment that should speed the healing. How does it feel?”

  Anika flexed her thigh. “Great.”

  Maggie smiled and bent to kiss her husband’s forehead. His eyes blinked open and settled on Anika. “Ah, you’re awake. Very good.”

  “Are you hungry?” Maggie asked.

  “I could eat.” Her voice sounded faint, as if coming through a weak transmission signal. “What happened to me?”

  “I’ll let Roberto explain while I make tea and toast. But first, let’s get some light in here.” Maggie switched on the table lamp next to the bed. A peachy glow washed the walls and floor. “That’s better.”

  “What’s the latest news about the storm?” Roberto stretched his arms over his head.

  “The weather reports said tonight. But when have they ever been right?” Maggie stroked Roberto’s cheek, then stepped down from the platform and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Two days. Had Gianni arrived in Havana by now? Was he trying to find her?

  “What storm?” she asked.

  “It’s coming from the east. Hurricane force winds. But it should pass quickly. One, two days at the most. And the cottage is sound.” Roberto smiled in reassurance. “If the electricity goes out, the generator will take over. You won’t be without power.”

  “What about places in town?” Anika asked, adding silently, like the computer center?

  “It depends.” Roberto shrugged his shoulders. “Who’s Gianni?”

  Chapter 28

  Anika whipped her head around. The sudden movement made her head swim.

  “Gianni?” She fought back the panic that sucked the air from her lungs.

  “The morning after our dinner together, Maggie found you curled up on the floor with a high fever. You were calling out for someone named Gianni.”

  Anika stared at a point past Roberto’s shoulder. Did I mention more than his name? Was I recorded? “He’s a friend from back home. Did I say anything else?”

  “You seemed to be dreaming about something bad that happened in the summer. You kept saying ‘summer, summer.’” Roberto shook his head. “Nothing that made any sense.”

  “I don’t remember.” Anika stared at the ceiling. She wished it were true. “Why did Maggie stop by here?” she asked, even as she reminded herself that Maggie and Roberto had shown her so much kindness and generosity.

  “Woman’s intuition. She had the feeling something was wrong. More than the heat from the sun.”

  Anika pulled herself up to a half-seated position. The slight exertion made her pulse race and she sank against the pillows. Her physical weakness worried her as much as her nightmare ramblings.

  Maggie returned with a tray of dry toast and tea. On it, a folded piece of paper angled against the mug. A stick figure drawing of a woman with long dark hair lay in bed and “Get Well” was squiggled at the top. Next to the paper was a bracelet of coral- and aqua-colored beads.

  “Daisy made them for you.”

  On the inside of the paper, two more figures stood side-by-side, the taller one holding hands with the shorter one, in pigtails. The message read, “Come back and play. REALLY SOON. Love, Daisy.”

  Anika fingered the small beads of the bracelet. No one had ever made her a present before. A tiny glow radiated through her heart. Then her mind kicked back in.

  Have I blown my cover? Do Maggie and Roberto still think I’m a high school art teacher visiting from Canada?

  She sensed Maggie’s eyes on her, steady and watchful. But maybe that was only genuine concern. She slipped on the bracelet. “Please thank Daisy for me.”

  “Have some tea,” Maggie urged. “Roberto and I have to get back to Las Estrellas, but we’ll check on you later.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Anika spoke quickly. “You’ve done so much already. And with a storm on the way — ”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  “I’ll be fine. Really.” Gianni had to be in Havana by now. She wouldn’t be staying.

  A frown marred Maggie’s face. Anika tensed for another protest, but Roberto took his wife’s hand and squeezed it gently. Her lips softened and the moment passed.

  “Very well.” Reaching into her skirt pocket, Maggie withdrew a black rectangular object. “Do you know what this is?”

  Anika shook her head.

  “It’s called a pager. Like a handheld, but without as many functions. It just sends and receives brief messages. You push these buttons to send,” she said, demonstrating, “and our reply comes through here. Please use it if you need something.”

  “Okay.” Anika took the strange device. “Thank you again. For everything. And please thank Daisy for me.”

  “You can thank her yourself,” Roberto said. “She made us promise we’d have you back for a visit.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Even as she said it, the pain of never seeing Daisy again zipped
through her chest. Why did she feel such a connection to the little girl? She needed to stay focused.

  “One more thing.” Maggie stretched out her hand. A green gel tab lay in her palm.

  Anika remembered Daisy explaining the different colors, blue for her stomach and pink for her head. What did green do?

  “It will help you rest,” Maggie said.

  “I just woke up.”

  “You need to get your strength back. Sleep is the best thing for you now.”

  “I’ll take it after I’ve eaten.”

  “It works better on an empty stomach. Go on.” Maggie handed her the tea. Smiling, she added, “Doctor’s orders.”

  Anika slipped the tab into her mouth, brought the mug to her lips and tipped it back.

  Maggie watched her for a moment longer. “I left some soup in the refrigerator. Try to eat something when you wake up.”

  “I will. And thank you again. For everything.”

  As soon as the door closed, Anika spit the pill out. Her palm turned the color of tobacco leaves.

  Gianni is the best thing for me now.

  She breath-counted seven minutes while she pushed back the covers, found her pants and sandals, and retrieved the Glock from between the mattresses. Another two to cross the floor to the front door. The dizziness came in waves, twirling the room in slow motion circles. Only the hope that Gianni had arrived in Havana kept her going.

  But when she opened the door, her breath caught in her throat and her resolve stuttered.

  Tall waves crashed against the shore and angry clouds stained the sky.

  She grabbed hold of the medal around her neck and rubbed the image of the patron saint of lost causes. Every step, no matter how slow, no matter how unsteady, would bring her closer to the town’s computer center, closer to connecting with Gianni. She started down the beach.

  The wind picked up, whipping her clothes and tangling her hair. A sudden gust knocked her sideways and she landed on her hands and knees. Sand pelted her. The thin cotton didn’t offer much protection against the stinging grains that hit her arms and legs like rounds of tiny buckshot. The surf roared in her ears and mocked her determination.