by Debra Webb
5:15 a.m.
29 hours remaining
COLE WATCHED the woman sleep. She’d tossed and turned for most of the night, but she’d finally surrendered to her body’s need to shut down at 2:00 a.m.
He’d taken a few minutes of rest here and there, never indulging in more than that at any one time.
Dawn would arrive within the hour. It was time to wake her. Yet he hesitated. Preferred not to bother her, she slept so peacefully now. Even in the uncharitable glow of the cheap bedside lamp, she looked agonizingly young. And innocent, he admitted. Leberman and Stephens had used her. She’d been afraid and had acted accordingly.
But her innocence or guilt were of no consequence. His mission could not be accomplished without her and for that reason it was necessary to keep her unbalanced, fearful. She was determined, he had to give her that. Her aunt’s safety, as well as that of her child, appeared to be primary. Another unforeseen turn. He’d expected the child to hold precedence but not the aunt. Whether Angel fully realized it or not, her aunt’s survival of this ordeal was not likely. Yet she would not give up on finding her unharmed. He had not anticipated that level of selflessness in one so young and seemingly focused on her own life.
Cole dismissed the surge of respect he experienced on the heels of those deductions. However selfless Angel Parker might be, she had brought this war down on herself. He had to bear that in mind. She was not completely innocent.
He refused to acknowledge the other nagging instinct. Something he hadn’t felt for a very long time—ten years actually. A foolish part of him wanted to protect her from further damage. He stood, shook it off.
Hadn’t he learned long ago that those with whom he dealt rarely deserved such a costly commodity?
The urge to protect, like compassion, served only one purpose: to make you weak. To steal crucial attention and energy.
He never made mistakes. He would not make one now.
Time to go. No more dwelling on a subject best left alone.
He moved to the bed where she lay and shook her, none too gently. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”
She sat up instantly, her heavy, long-lashed lids fluttering open. Her breath caught when memory identified him and reminded her of time and place.
She climbed out of bed without responding. Her hair was tousled, her clothes rumpled, but she didn’t appear to care. She went directly to the bathroom and closed the door. Two minutes later she exited, her hair finger combed and her clothes straightened somewhat.
“I’m ready.”
One look in her eyes told the truth of the matter. She wasn’t ready, but she would do what she had to in an effort to help her aunt. To rid their lives of this curse once and for all.
He sent a pointed look at her bare feet.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. “I forgot.” She quickly tugged on her sneakers without bothering to untie them.
“The jacket, too.” He indicated the jacket lying on the end of the bed.
Angel shouldered into her well-worn denim jacket and let go a grave breath. Now or never.
“Get your purse,” Danes said. “We won’t be coming back here.” He picked up her overnight bag and slung it over one broad shoulder.
She nodded and snagged her purse. “Can I turn on my cell phone now?”
“No.”
She muttered an unflattering adjective under her breath.
He walked out the door ahead of her, surveyed the parking lot then motioned for her to follow. For a man who seemed to care about no one she couldn’t help wondering why he bothered. Maybe he wasn’t quite so ruthless as he wanted her to believe.
Streaks of gold-and-purple light had started to cut through the night, lending an ominous ambience to the cold, wet morning. She shivered as the frigid air penetrated her thin jacket.
Pull it together. Stay alert, she ordered. Wet from the rain that had fallen sometime during the night while she slept like the dead, the pavement looked inky black. A perfect morning for this sort of excursion, she supposed. Cold and ugly. Threatening.
Glass shattered next to her.
It took several seconds for Angel to realize the car window on her right, less than two feet back had burst as she passed it.
Suddenly she slammed downward…onto the damp pavement. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs.
Danes was on top of her, firing his weapon rapidly, the sounds exploding in the air, deafening her.
“Get under the car.”
She tried to comprehend his barked order but somehow she couldn’t.
He shoved her toward the vehicle on her left. “Get under there now!”
She scooted on her belly. Didn’t stop until she’d reached the middle. Her breath came in ragged spurts. The smell of oil and gasoline caused her to gag.
The loud thunder of Danes’s gun echoed, the explosions followed by odd pings and more shattering glass. She saw a clip hit the ground near where he crouched. It looked much like the ones she’d purchased with her gun…only bigger.
Why was he shooting?
Her mind suddenly wrapped around the other strange sounds and the broken glass.
Silencers. Whoever was shooting at them had sound suppressors on their weapons.
Who would be shooting at them?
One step ahead. Danes had said they were one step ahead. He didn’t want them to know this location. He’d been wrong. Who else could this be? They had to know. It had to be them.
Tires squealed.
Three, four, five more shots from Danes’s weapon.
Silence.
She forced her thoughts to slow. Tried to gulp in a deep breath to steady her respiration.
Silence.
She could see Danes’s leather shoes where he still crouched. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment just to be sure the shadow of the image wasn’t somehow burned on her retinas.
She looked again.
He was gone.
She jolted into action, sliding quickly from under the car. Sirens wailed in the distance. Faces peered from between the narrow gaps in drapes. No one moved between the parked vehicles. Broken glass. A car alarm throbbing.
Where was Danes?
She saw the man on the ground and was moving in that direction before the identity of the other man bent over him registered.
“Don’t you die on me just yet, you son of a bitch,” Danes snarled. He’d torn the man’s shirt open. Blood seeped between his fingers where he attempted to staunch the flow from midtorso.
“We need an ambulance,” Angel shouted back at the faces in the windows. Her purse…cell phone. The sirens. Someone had already called. She dropped to her knees on the other side of the man and checked his respiration and heart rate. Still breathing. Pulse thready. Damn.
“Tell me what I want to know,” Danes growled.
The man tried to talk, his words too choked to understand.
“Don’t try to talk,” Angel told him before shooting Danes a glare. She surveyed the man again. “The ambulance is here,” she told the man on the ground. “Hang on.” Thank God someone had asked for an ambulance as well as the police. She could only assume that the call was made as soon as shots were fired for this kind of rapid response. The man’s pulse rate was dropping.
Angel tried to assess the damage based on what she saw. She only knew that it was critical. Massive hemorrhaging. She couldn’t do any more than Danes was already doing for that. Had the bullet exited? Turning him over was too risky.
Suddenly an EMT appeared next to her. She stood and immediately stepped back. This was EMT territory. They had the equipment. The second EMT moved into place next to Danes and initiated the IV while the other assessed the now unconscious patient’s condition. She tried not to think about the fact that this man, though not the one who had shown up at her house yesterday, was likely involved in her aunt’s kidnapping.
“I need this man alive,” Danes said sharply.
The EMTs ignored the comment, conversed quickly about the man’s wors
ening condition, but Angel didn’t really absorb their words; she couldn’t get past what Danes had said. This couldn’t be good. Where was the other man? Why had they shown up here? In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of two or three police officers headed their way.
“We have to get him to the hospital,” the EMT said. “He needs surgery. Now.” The last he directed at Danes.
“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?”
The officer’s voice tugged her attention from the scene on the ground. “I’m really not sure,” she said hesitantly. “We came out of our room and this man—” she gestured to the ground but the EMTs had already loaded the patient onto a gurney and had headed to the waiting ambulance “—he…he started shooting at us.” Sometime during the hail of bullets sunrise had lightened the sky. It seemed impossible that only moments ago she’d been hiding in the dark beneath that car.
The officer asked something else but Danes’s climbing into the ambulance behind the two EMTs distracted her. “I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” she assured the officer. “Just let me check on…” She gestured to the ambulance.
“Of course, ma’am.” Apparently he assumed she meant Danes. “But I’ll need a statement from both you and your husband.”
Maybe in some remote part of her brain she did need to check on Danes. Had he been injured? She smiled faintly as the officer let her pass. She hurried toward the ambulance.
He thought she and Danes were a couple. The idea almost made her laugh. If her heart hadn’t been beating so fast and her stomach hadn’t been twisted around her esophagus she might have done just that.
She slowed at the rear doors of the vehicle, stunned somewhat that they hadn’t rushed away before now. Was the man dead already? Was Danes hurt?
“Here are my credentials.” Using one bloody hand Danes thrust the leather case he’d shown her last night in the man’s face. He turned to the other EMT. “Now wake him up.”
“Look man,” the EMT with the credentials said. “I don’t know anything about—”
“Who the hell is this guy?” the other one demanded of his partner, clearly not happy with Danes’s orders.
His partner shrugged. “NSA.”
“You know as well as I do that this man will not make it to the hospital,” Danes said quietly, the intensity in the softer tone wholly unnerving. “He’s dying. Now wake him up so I can question him.”
The first EMT shoved the credentials case at Danes and looked at his partner. “We could try to bring him around with some epinephrine.”
“Are you crazy?” his partner demanded. “We gotta roll with this guy.”
Danes braced his hands on his hips, pushing the lapels of his jacket out of the way just far enough to display his shoulder holster and gun. “I don’t care what you have to do. But do it here and now. Wake him up.”
Angel wanted to back away, didn’t want to see this, but morbid fascination paralyzed her. She couldn’t move…she could only watch as the eppie was administered, giving the man’s heart rate and blood pressure a jolt to draw him back to consciousness.
Whatever his sins he was about to pay the ultimate price.
Her gaze settled on Danes.
She’d been wrong.
Cole Danes was far more ruthless than she’d even suspected.
Chapter Six
7:25 a.m.
26 hours, 50 minutes remaining…
“Why are we coming back here?” Angel demanded as Danes ushered her back into the hotel room. “I thought you said—”
He secured the door then surveyed the parking area before pulling the drapes together more tightly. “We’ll be safe here as long as those squad cars remain in the lot.”
The blood on his hands, on hers, had dried, but the smell still haunted her. She’d never get used to that. Never. Her stomach roiled and she closed her eyes against the images and sounds. The gunfire…the blood. That man had died. What did that mean? A part of her couldn’t help regretting the loss of human life, criminal or not.
“Take off your clothes.”
She jerked to attention. Blinked twice. “What?”
“Take off all your clothes. Now.”
He stared at her with that usual intensity, his words perfectly clear, uttered in that brisk, cold tone, but she still didn’t understand.
“Why do you want me to take off my clothes?” The idea seemed ludicrous given the current situation.
“Do it.”
He strode into the bathroom and turned on the basin faucet. Dumbfounded, Angel watched as he scrubbed the blood from his hands. The nurse in her mentally ticked off the numerous diseases both of them would need to worry about. She stared at her own hands. They’d had to at least attempt to give the man aid until the ambulance arrived. For the good it had done. There had been so much blood. He most likely would not have survived…Wake him up now. She shuddered at the memory. Danes hadn’t appeared to care if the man died, he’d wanted answers.
Had he gotten them? She’d turned away from the scene, hadn’t been able to watch. The police officer had eventually wandered over and started his questioning again. Strangely, only minutes after the ambulance had left for the hospital with their patient who would be dead on arrival, the police had given them the go-ahead to leave, as well. Just another thing she didn’t understand in any of this.
Who was Cole Danes that he could have a shoot-out in a public place, kill a man—in self-defense admittedly—and walk away with scarcely a comment to local law enforcement?
“I said take off your clothes.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice. She had to get a hold of herself here. “Let me wash my hands.” Another shudder rocked through her.
“In a moment.”
He was serious. Dammit, she wasn’t taking off her clothes without a good reason. “No.” She shook her head adamantly. “Not until you tell me why.”
“They knew to come here. We walked right into their trap. Maybe they locked in on our location during the call, but I don’t think so. Tracking down a cell phone takes time. Either way, I’m not taking the chance that there’s a bug I don’t know about.”
“But you checked me for bugs already.” She remembered quite well the little thingie he’d used to scan her and her bags.
“New technology comes on the market every day. It’s not impossible that he used something undetectable by the usual means.”
She gestured to the bathroom. “I’ll toss my clothes out to you.”
He moved his head side to side. “It’s not really your clothes I’m worried about. I need to inspect every square inch of your body.”
Cole knew he’d shaken her with that request but it was necessary. “Now,” he reiterated.
She hesitated a moment longer, likely grappling to find another excuse to argue the point with him. But, in the end, she was too smart not to see the obvious. Taking her slow, sweet time she shouldered out of her jacket and draped it on the foot of the bed.
He didn’t like it when the target one-upped him and he’d definitely been one-upped this morning. But he had what he needed now. He would finish this, whatever the cost. The local police hadn’t appreciated his refusal to cooperate. Nor had they been pleased at his ability to shift jurisdiction with a single phone call. And they definitely didn’t like cleaning up someone else’s mess. Cole didn’t see the big deal. No civilians were harmed. Insurance would pay for any damage done to the vehicles in the lot. The only casualty was a man who’d overstayed his welcome on this planet years ago.
One left to go.
When that final piece of scum had ceased to share the same airspace as Cole he would at last be satisfied.
He’d waited ten long years to finish this.
She toed off her sneakers, rolled off the socks, then carefully placed the items next to her jacket.
In a show of his impatience, he folded his arms over his chest. The move sent pain slicing through his side. He gritted his teeth and ignored it. He�
�d endured much worse for far less. He would endure this. Time was short. The next move needed to be his.
The one remaining man was one he had studied well, knew almost as well as he knew himself. Not that finishing the matter would be simple, there were a number of complications, including Mildred Parker. But it would be an enjoyable task.
Angel’s fingers moved to the buttons on her sweater. His gaze followed the release of each of three buttons at her throat. Stealing a quick glance in his direction, she crossed her arms in front of her and took hold of the hem of the sweater. The fabric slid up and over her head, landing on the bed with a good deal less care than the other items.
She looked directly into his eyes. “I’m not taking off my…” She cradled her arms in front of her breasts.
“I’ll work around it,” he allowed. Relief flooded her expression. “Stop stalling.”
She turned her back and unfastened her jeans. The soft denim slid over her hips, revealing delicate bikini panties, the light pink color a perfect match to her bra. She lifted first one leg then the other to tug off the jeans. They plopped onto the bed. Timidly, her arms went up to shield as much of her torso as possible.
“What now?” she asked looking back over her shoulder at him.
Cole stood very still, his attention oddly distracted by her skin. It looked incredibly smooth, like porcelain. Her white-blond hair draped halfway to her narrow waist. The silky tresses looked even softer against the sleek shell of her skin.
The idea that touching her would be a mistake flitted through his mind but he dismissed it. This inspection was essential to his success. Not sexual…not pleasurable in any way.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides. Using both hands he scooped up her hair and fingered slowly through it, searching for any kind of device. Something organic likely, perhaps even a device that deteriorated in time, maintaining its shape and function only long enough to provide location.
Her hair felt every bit as silky as he’d anticipated. Then his fingers moved to her skin. She gasped. He recoiled abruptly at the warm feel beneath his fingertips. The smooth texture he’d anticipated, but not the warmth. Her flesh had looked too pale and sleek to be this warm. Bracing himself, he lowered his fingers there once more. Slid the tips over her shoulders, closely searched the flawless surface with his eyes as well as his touch.
