Danger Zone

by Dee J. Adams

  Quinn swallowed back the hurt. “Who the hell are you? The Ellie Morgan I know doesn’t intentionally hurt anyone. The woman I met two weeks ago is compassionate, optimistic, funny and full of life.”

  “Like I said, you don’t know me.”

  “Bullshit.” He knew she was loyal to a fault and conscientious as hell. A perfectionist if he’d ever seen one and a woman who cared so deeply, she rearranged her life to accommodate those she loved. “I know you love me.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and she didn’t answer him. A lifetime of moments passed as they watched each other.

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.” Quinn felt as if his entire future hinged on her reply.

  Two tears streaked down her cheek as she gazed at him. She swallowed and took a ragged breath. “I don’t love you,” she whispered.

  Too bad she was horrible at hiding her feelings.

  He stared at her and clenched his jaw. “I guess we’ve proved one thing.” He let her wait. “You are a liar. Just not a good one.” Color blazed in her cheeks as she turned and started for her car, Quinn on her heels. “So you’re just going to run away? Is that your usual way of handling tough situations? Just run home and hide in your apartment?”

  Spinning on her heel, Ellie shoved him away. “Fuck you. You don’t own me. And I don’t owe you anything. If you’re worried about Ashley’s car, I’ll give you the money if that’ll get you off my back.”

  Quinn heard an engine rev behind him. “I couldn’t care less about the money, Elle. Don’t you get it? I love you.”

  Tires squealed and Ellie’s eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder. “Watch out!” She tackled him and they both flew over the hood of a car as a black truck whizzed by and nearly plowed them over. Before either of them caught their breath, the truck stopped and red brake lights flashed. Then white lights flashed. “He’s coming back,” Ellie shouted. She yanked him off the hood and pulled him back as the truck smashed into the car where he’d been a moment ago.

  “Get to the stairs,” Ellie called. But even as they tried to get back to the stairs, the truck smashed into the cars, shoving them back, blocking their escape and starting a symphony of car alarms that deafened. “My car,” Ellie shouted, pointing in the other direction. They ran and scrambled into her Mustang while the huge Ford tried to dislodge its bumper from a similar truck.

  Ellie gunned out of her spot, tires screaming, and raced down three levels toward the exit. Her control over the car was as tight as any driver Quinn knew. “Buckle up tight, then call 911,” she said, wiping her eyes and checking her rearview mirror. “I don’t think he’s going to let us drive out of here quietly.” She reached the exit and made a hard right.

  Quinn heard tires squeal behind them and turned. The truck was in hot pursuit, bearing down on them fast. He pulled out his cell phone and punched three numbers. An automated recording answered. “I don’t believe this. A fucking recording,” he seethed. He tried again. Still nothing. The Mustang took a hit from behind.

  “That asshole just hit me,” Ellie shouted, her disbelief palpable. “He hit me!” Next there was a pop and the outside mirror shattered. “Oh my God. What was that?” Realization dawned on her face. “He’s shooting at us!” Her hands tightened on the wheel as Quinn’s heart pounded furiously in his chest. A new focus settled in her eyes as she adjusted in her seat. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she said. Her sudden calm scared him.

  Actually, calm was probably a good thing at the moment. It beat hysteria.

  “I’d have to say so,” Quinn agreed. Surprisingly, with Ellie at the wheel, Quinn wasn’t as panicked as he should’ve been.

  “He is so messing with the wrong person on the wrong day.” Ellie wove through a half dozen cars before Quinn caught his breath. He hung on for everything he was worth. “C’mon, asshole. Come and get me,” Ellie muttered. Los Angeles whizzed by in a blur of color and car horns. Still the truck kept up with them.

  “How would you feel about taking the wheel?” Ellie asked, glancing at him.

  “Huh?” A wave of fear gripped Quinn by his intestines and strangled tight. After the desert incident he hadn’t planned on driving for a good long time. “You want me to drive?”

  “Slide underneath me and take the wheel. I have an idea. Just keep your foot on the gas when I let go,” she told him.

  She was doing her best to keep them alive and he refused to do anything less than the same. He slid his legs under her as she leaned forward and gave him room. He got his foot under hers on the gas before she shimmied over to the passenger side. The power of the car pulsed through his legs. “When I tell you, let him get closer, okay?”

  “You want him closer?” Maybe she had lost her mind. More pops rent the air as more bullets hit the body of the car.

  “Yes, but wait until I tell you when.” She reached in the back for her heavy bag and pulled out weights, stacking them next to her on the seat as she kept an eye out the back window. Car horns blared all around them as they sped through the city, running lights and signs and dodging cars and people. After finishing with her first project, she leaned over him and released a latch at the corner of the window and the roof.

  “Want to share your plan with me?”

  “Sure.” She did the same to the latch on her side too. “When I give the word, let him get close enough so that when we release the top of the convertible, it’ll fly off and land on his windshield. By the time it blows off and he gets visibility, I’ll be in place to pound him with the weights. Hopefully, I can smash the windshield and kill his view.”

  “See!” Quinn said. “That’s smart! Don’t tell me you’re not smart.”

  A smile curved her lips as she kneeled in the passenger seat facing the back. “When I say ‘go,’ hit this button.” She showed him the metal button labeled Top Control under the dash and got into place. “Let him get a little closer.”

  Quinn eased up on the gas just a fraction.

  “A little closer…” She waited, her eyes narrowed. “Now!” she shouted.

  Quinn hit the button. Ellie gave the roof a hard shove and it disengaged from the windshield. Air caught it and snapped it back before it whipped off the car, flying at the truck like a gigantic tan bat with wings. Ellie already had weights in her hands and as soon as the cover flew off the truck’s windshield she threw a fastball with a five-pound weight that would’ve made Roger Clemens proud. The weight bounced off the glass with only a crack in its wake. But Ellie didn’t stop. After every throw, she loaded up and heaved another one.

  Another pop sounded and their windshield grew a hole.

  “Get down, Elle,” Quinn yelled. “It’s not working!”

  “One more,” she said, crawling toward the back seat. She kneeled and lifted a twenty-pounder over her head and tossed it. The tinted glass—already pockmarked with her other throws—shattered into a million lines and the truck swerved awkwardly. He bounced off a city bus and with his chassis jacked up high on the wheels, he never had a chance to recover the balance. The truck flipped and rolled, still chasing them even as it crashed.

  Finally, it stopped, belly-up, and Quinn stopped too. At this angle they saw the driver’s side of the four-door cab. Not to mention the destruction they’d left behind. Crashed cars and fender benders littered the road. The bus had overcompensated after the contact and hopped the curb, taking down a meter, and dozens of people slowly began crowding the streets.

  They surveyed the mess then looked at each other.

  “Stay or go?” Ellie asked. “If we go, we may never find out who it is.”

  Quinn wasn’t about to leave at this point, but he refused to put Ellie at more risk. Sirens sounded in the distance. “The police should be here any minute. I just want to get a little closer. You stay here.” He got out of the car.

  She scrambled over the car frame and blocked him. “No way. I won’t let you go alone. If you want to get closer, we do it together.”

  “No,�
�� Quinn said adamantly. “This guy is nuts. I just want to make sure he’s not going to hurt anyone else.”

  “Right.” Her eyes widened. “Wait.” She popped her dented trunk and emerged with a baseball bat. “I’ll go that way to keep people back. And if I see him…” She lifted her weapon. “He’ll be in a world of hurt.” She looked off to the side. “Hey!” Ellie started toward pedestrians getting too close to the truck. “Keep away from there,” she yelled. The wail of sirens got louder.

  “Stay back,” Quinn echoed, gesturing for people to keep clear of the scene. But they weren’t listening or didn’t understand the danger because they kept creeping in.

  “Get them back, Elle,” Quinn shouted, pointing across the street as he began herding people back. But still he kept his attention on the truck and crept closer, trying to make sense of the wreckage. He kept his eyes peeled for any movement. He glanced up, but didn’t see Ellie on the other side of the street.

  Quinn focused on the front seat of the truck. With a four-door cab, the driver could’ve—

  He heard something. The sound of a bat thumping onto pavement. Glancing through the shattered windows, he spotted the empty cab. Panicked voices got louder as people ran. Then…

  “Quinn.” At the sound of Ellie’s soft voice he turned toward the bed of the truck.

  A man with a stocking over his head held her in front of him, his arm securely around her neck, his gun steady at her temple.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Quinn’s stomach lurched at the same time his heart rate tripled. This wasn’t Aaron Gerhardt. Gerhardt had five inches on the guy holding Ellie. “Let her go. It’s me you want, isn’t it? Just let her go.”

  The guy shook his head, a creepy smile showed through his grotesque mask. He pointed to Ellie’s car. “You drive.” That voice… His size…

  Quinn lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll drive. Let her go.”

  The man moved forward, his gun pressing into Ellie’s head. “Move,” he said. The three of them moved steadily to the Mustang. Quinn walked backward, never taking his eyes off the man and Ellie. “I’m not stupid, Quinn. After all the years you’ve known me, when are you going to get it through your head that I’m not stupid?”

  Of course he was familiar! “Hank! Jesus, Hank, have you lost your fucking mind? What are you doing?”

  “Drive the car, Quinn.”

  Quinn slid over the car door and into the driver’s seat as Hank forced Ellie in the front seat next to him. The fit was tight enough that Ellie practically sat on his lap.

  “Keep going straight down the street and take a right on Fourth,” he said.

  Helicopter blades whirred overhead and Quinn looked up. Sirens blared behind them. “I know about everything, Hank, and I’m not the only one. The cops are everywhere. You can kill me, but you can’t get away.”

  “You’re still not giving me any credit.” He shook his head. “That’s too bad for you. And her. Step on it and get to Fourth.” He looked behind them then at Quinn. “You don’t think I planned this to the nth degree? I’m meticulous. You know that.”

  Oh, shit. Understanding struck him like a hit to the chest. They were in serious trouble. Hank was a smart son of a bitch. Quinn had almost given him Densmore’s promotion, but in the end—

  “Ditch the cops.”

  “I can’t just ditch the cops. There’s a helicopter over our heads,” Quinn said, stepping harder on the accelerator. His knuckles whitened over the wheel. A fresh surge of panic bolted through him. What if they crashed? This wouldn’t have been happening to Ellie if not for him.

  “I don’t care about the helicopter. I’ll lose him another way. Get rid of the cops on our tail or I’ll put a bullet through her head.” He yanked Ellie against his chest for emphasis and her surprised yelp set Quinn’s blood roaring in his veins.

  Checking the rearview mirror, Quinn put the pedal down and wove in and out of traffic on the busy street. Up ahead, a moving truck slowly backed toward the garage of an office building. The truck blocked all lanes of traffic.

  “Squeeze by that semi,” Hank ordered. “On the sidewalk side.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Hank. It’s not possible. There’s no room.”

  “You better haul ass and make room,” Hank told him.

  Quinn swallowed back the bile in his throat and put the gas on the floorboard. He laid on his horn as he jumped the curb, scattered pedestrians and slid between the semi and the building with barely an inch to spare on either side. A loud squeal of rubber sounded behind them as the police cruiser didn’t make the same maneuver.

  “Keep it fast and smooth. Good,” Hank said, as they sped to the next intersection. “Make a right here on Fourth,” he instructed and Quinn wrestled the wheel. “Now left onto Broadway.”

  Quinn made the turn on two wheels.

  “Now left into the parking structure. Don’t stop for a ticket, bust the arm.” The black-and-white arm snapped as the Mustang burst through. “Now, take it to the top.”

  Hank had him park in the corner of the structure, a few spots away from an old model sedan. After he cut the engine, Quinn looked at him. “I’ve done everything. Now let her go.”

  Hank pulled the stocking from his face and shook his head. “Not on your life.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Ellie asked.

  Lifting his brows, Hank glanced at him. “Quinn’s probably got it figured it out by now, don’t you?”

  Quinn nodded. “You wanted Densmore’s job, didn’t you?”

  “I deserved that job.” Hank pounded his own chest. “I was at the company longer. I worked my ass off for years. For your father, for Mac and then for you. I should be a partner after all the years I’ve been there. I’m smarter than all of you and Densmore put together.”

  “But it was Densmore who came up with the patent. Not you.”

  “I could’ve done it,” Hank screamed. Ellie flinched at his side. She had her eye on the gun as Hank waved it threateningly near her head. “With a little time and the budget you gave him, anybody could’ve come up with that design.”

  Everything clicked in his brain. “Densmore didn’t disappear on his own. You killed him so you could take over the division, didn’t you? You framed Murphy too. He didn’t sell the rearview mirror design to Gerhardt, you did. Just like you sold Brant’s new hood to him seventeen years ago.”

  “You do have all the answers, don’t you?” Hank’s face twisted. “Guess that makes this a no-brainer,” he said. His face contorted into a grimace at the same time Ellie grunted and slammed the back of her fist in his face. She tried to twist and swing at him, but caught his hand instead. The gun popped out of Hank’s grip and flew out of the car, but Hank didn’t seem to care. Brutally, he slammed Ellie’s head into the dash and she crumbled forward like a marionette.

  Fiery rage detonated like a grenade in Quinn’s chest and he lost it.

  He launched himself at Hank and they both tumbled out of the passenger-side door, landing on the hard cement. Hank belly crawled, reaching for the gun. Quinn made it in time to catch his arm and they struggled over the weapon. It fired toward the car. Once, twice, three times. A spark hit a puddle on the ground. Fire started under the Mustang’s back wheel and quickly engulfed the whole tire.

  Ellie was still in the car as fire licked up the sides.

  Hank slammed him hard in the face and broke free. Grabbing the gun, he pounded the butt of the pistol against Quinn’s head and a flash of light exploded behind Quinn’s lids. Everything slowed down.

  Somehow he was moving, being dragged. The acrid smell of smoke got thick in his nostrils and he shook his head, tried to clear the cobwebs. Hank hoisted him to his feet and shoved him against the waist-high wall of the parking structure. Shoving him backward, Hank forced him over the wall until the upside-down view of the street below had his head spinning more.

  “How about a five-story drop, Quinn? That’s about what you deserve,” Hank gri
tted out.

  Quinn fought the hand against his throat.

  “Another minute or two and your hot girlfriend will be smokin’ hot. Literally.”

  Adrenaline roared in his veins as Quinn slammed his palm out and connected with Hank’s chin. The blow knocked Hank off him and Quinn straightened away from the wall. He attacked with ruthless fury, laying into the man with a series of punches. A hard right hook sent pain ripping through his hand and up his arm. Hank staggered back, but he didn’t stop. Instead he rushed Quinn.

  The biggest mistake the man would ever make.

  Quinn used Hank’s momentum and stepped off to the side at the same time he “helped” Hank over the wall. Without a glance over the edge, Quinn raced to the burning Mustang. The backseat was fully engulfed in flames, fire spreading toward the front.

  He reached Ellie and pulled her out. The amount of blood in the car terrified Quinn like nothing else in his life. He lifted her in his arms and a fresh explosion of pain in his useless right hand had his stomach roiling. He carried her away from her burning car and set her on the cement. Sirens blared closer.

  Blood covered the right side of her face and matted in her long hair. So much that he couldn’t immediately tell where she bled. He spotted the gash on her eyebrow and stripped off his T-shirt to wipe her face, careful of the cut.

  She coughed and sputtered, her eyes fluttered open.

  Quinn couldn’t stop his own eyes from tearing up. “Hey,” he said. “Welcome back.” He held the cotton firmly against her eyebrow. His hand throbbed mercilessly.

  “Bad time to take a nap, huh?” she deadpanned.

  Relief made him dizzy. He might’ve laughed, but the near miss had him too close to tears and he held her against his chest. “You have no idea,” he murmured. She’d made his life worth living and he had to make her understand that. He wouldn’t let her run from him again.

  “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?” The love in her eyes was unmistakable.

  He nodded, his throat parched with emotion. He wiped at the blood trickling down his hairline. “I am if you are.”