Jonas went quiet again. It didn't last.
"Were you at your parents' house to recover?"
"No. To help my sister with their estate. They were killed in a car accident a few months ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We weren't very close."
"Your job?" he hazarded. "Your sister mentioned that she didn't even know what it was you did. I’m guessing your career choice wasn't a popular one?"
Kate thought back to their time at the farmhouse. She frowned. "I thought you were out cold when we were talking about that."
"I'm good at playing dead," he said without apology, as she tried to remember what else he might have overheard. "Your job?" he prodded.
She stared through the windshield into the night. "No, my career choice wasn't popular."
Understatement of the century. There had been a chance of forgiveness once, when she'd brought a man home to meet them a few years after joining the force. Grant Douglas had been ultra polite, conservative, and business-suited—much more in line with what her parents had wanted for her. What they’d expected from her. Especially when, at Grant’s urging, she'd introduced him as a special envoy to the U.S. embassy rather than a fellow cop, and the status he'd bestowed on her by association had almost made up for her uniform and gun.
Until she’d broken off the engagement a year later.
Her father had never spoken to her again. And because her mother had never been very good at standing up to him, Kate hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with her mom after that, either. Which made it all the more ironic that she and her ex-fiancé had remained on such good terms.
Her gaze flicked to the mirror again and lingered there. The headlights were still there. Her neck hairs prickled again, and she tapped a finger against the steering wheel.
"Kate?" prompted Jonas's deep voice.
"Hm?" She realized he was waiting for a response to something. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."
"I said it's a good thing your sister doesn't seem to share their..." He trailed off and twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder. "Trouble?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. It's been there since we got onto the highway."
"That's why you slowed down."
She nodded. "But it hasn't gotten any closer."
"Right." Jonas swung around to face forward again. "There's an exit coming up. Take it."
She switched on her turn signal and, a second later, slowed as she moved into the right-hand exit lane. They drove onto the ramp, their headlights highlighting the curve of the road, the safety barriers, the trees on both sides. The car that had been following them whizzed past on the highway.
Swallowing hard, Kate gripped the steering wheel with both hands. She continued right on the road at the top of the ramp, then made a U-turn and doubled back to the entrance onto the highway. As if by some unspoken, mutual agreement, neither she nor Jonas attempted to return to the conversation, signaling an end to their attempt at small talk. But not to their tension.
A couple of kilometers down the road, Jonas leaned forward to turn on the radio, his arm passing near enough to Kate's that she felt a brush of air against her skin. The loss of his heat when he withdrew again. She shifted away from him, leaning against her door as a woman's throaty croon joined the thrum of the engine in the space between them, singing the lyrics from an old-time song about being vexed, perplexed, and oversexed.
Kate's gaze swung to the radio. Seriously?
From the seat beside her came the unmistakable sound of a muffled snort. She froze, and her entire body flushed hot, putting her instantly back in her kitchen, with Jonas inches away and the fridge door between them.
"We should probably talk about this, don't you think?" Jonas had asked.
And she had replied, ever so blithely, "There's nothing to talk about. You're leaving in the morning, and I'm going back to my life. End of story."
Except now it wasn't.
"Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I," crooned the voice.
Chapter 22
Kate slowed to the posted speed limit as they approached the border crossing. On the left, the CBSA—Canadian Border Services—slid past, lit up by enough lumen power to highlight its every detail: the long, low brick buildings; the parking area empty of all but a handful of vehicles that included an RCMP cruiser; the lanes with their barriers, two of the four closed at this hour.
Ahead, the two lanes of the bypass curved past the duty-free shop, then merged into one before becoming part of a road again. Beyond that, the bridge across the St. Lawrence.
The knot in Kate's stomach sent out tentacles to wrap around her lungs.
Two and a half kilometers of bridge, followed by an attempt to enter the United States of America without ID.
Without her badge.
Illegally.
Freaking hell.
She wiped a sweat-slicked palm against one thigh. Warm, strong fingers closed over hers.
"You don't have to do this," Jonas said. "We can find another way."
"I'm fine." She tugged her hand free of the comfort she didn't want to need and wrapped it around the steering wheel again. "And this really is the fastest way. We've been working on a joint file with your customs guys for the last three months. I've been down so often they haven't bothered asking me for ID the last two times. We've even started going for coffee together."
"But you've never gone through with a passenger at nearly midnight on a Friday night."
No. No, she hadn't.
"It'll work," she said. It has to work. “You pretend you’re asleep. I’ll tell them you’re a colleague or something. As long as they don’t ask for your ID, it’ll work.”
“Or something?” Jonas echoed. “I hope you have a better idea than that by the time we get there.”
A high-pitched trill cut off any retort Kate might have made. Her eyes locked onto the lighted display of a cell phone on the console between the seats—a cheap burner she'd bought when they fueled up before leaving the city. She'd called Dave with the number. No one else had it. The phone rang again. She picked it up, eschewing the customary hello.
"What's up?"
"Where are you?" her partner demanded, his voice tight.
Beneath the tires, the asphalt road gave way to the bridge's deck, and the high-pitched hum of rubber against metal filled the vehicle. Pole-mounted lights passed by overhead, illuminating the interior in flashes.
"We just hit the bridge."
"Turn around. Now."
She peered out the windshield at the bridge framework slipping by on both sides. "There are cameras. If I pull a U-turn, they'll—"
"There's a warrant out, Kate. For you. The border crossings know."
A hiss of air beside her told her Jonas had heard. The knot and all its tentacles turned to ice. Kate struggled to breathe. "What? But how—?"
"I don't know. It doesn't matter. Just turn around."
She lifted her foot from the gas. The vehicle began to slow. They passed under the first of the suspension bridge's two towers. "They'll come after us."
A tiny pause. "Yes."
They passed under the second tower. Ahead, a sign announced the U.S. border. She had no time for hesitation. She needed to make a decision. Now.
She dropped the phone onto the console, slammed on the brakes, and wrenched the steering wheel hard left. The SUV swerved into the oncoming lane, coming to a stop with its nose a foot from the rail. A minivan screeched to a halt inches from Jonas's door. A cacophony of horns blared.
"Kate?" Jonas's voice was tight.
She shook her head, slammed the gearshift into reverse, and stomped on the accelerator. To the chorus of more horns, she slewed backward into the second point of a three-point turn. Braked. Threw the gearshift into drive. Wrenched again on the steering wheel. Jammed the gas pedal to the floor.
The SUV shot forward with a roar, headed back across the dark river toward Canadian soil. The howl of tires against metal rose in pit
ch as the speedometer climbed. A hundred kilometers an hour. One twenty. One thirty. The lights of CBSA came into sight at the end of the bridge. Headlights in the other lane streamed by in a blur. Beneath the vehicle, the bridge deck gave way to pavement.
Kate did a rapid calculation in her head. The SUV could take out one of the barriers without a problem, but the armed CBSA officers were another story altogether—and they'd have had more than enough time to get into position. Even if she and Jonas didn't get shot, chances were good that their vehicle would take a hit. And if that happened...
Jonas's hand closed on her arm, warm and strong. "Don't," he said gruffly. "Whatever you're thinking, don't. Stop now, Kate. I'll tell them I took you hostage. That I forced you to drive me here."
She flashed him the briefest of looks. "And what, you let me go to work every day until now?"
His grip tightened.
"We'll think of something else. But you have to stop. Running from Lewis and Ramirez is one thing, but running from your own colleagues? I won't let you do that."
Kate stayed focused on the road ahead, and then she saw it. The fork, where the road that had brought them here looped around the Canadian border facility. The way in to the bridge and the U.S. and, in the current circumstances, their only way out. She tugged her arm away from Jonas's grip.
"Too late," she said. "And I'd hang on if I were you. Things could get a little hairy."
She veered to the left, into the one-way, oncoming traffic. A sedan swerved to miss her, its sole occupant leaning on the horn and gesticulating madly.
"Jesus!" Jonas muttered. From the corner of her eye, she saw him cinch his seat belt tighter. She thought about doing the same, but didn't dare take either hand from the wheel.
The road widened to two lanes, giving her more room to maneuver, but not much. Cars sped by, dodging left and right as she barreled toward them. The SUV's speed climbed to a hundred and forty as they blew past the CBSA building, the parking lots, and a lone figure racing for the police cruiser parked under a lamppost. A directional sign blinked past: left to the 401, right to County Road 2, which was little more than a meandering two-lane road that followed the river. Hell. Which one? She'd been in her fair share of high-speed chases before, but never on this side of the fence.
Focus, Dexter.
They could go faster on the 401, but once they hit the divided four-lane freeway there was no way off until the next exit—and every likelihood that exit would be blocked by the time they reached it. A county road, on the other hand, would have side roads. Places to lie low until the heat died down. If she could stay far enough ahead that long.
She raised her voice over the engine noise. "I'm going to take the secondary road!" She slammed on the brakes long enough to negotiate the sharp right turn, then opened up the gas again as they once more headed past the CBSA toward the river, this time on the opposite side. "There are more places to hide."
"Good," Jonas said tightly. "Then I suggest you find one. We've got company."
Kate glanced at the flashing blue and red lights in the side mirror. The RCMP cruiser. Freaking hell. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she approached the intersection for County Road 2, desperately trying to remember the lay of the land in these parts. She'd driven this area a handful of times, tops, and never at insane speeds in the dark.
The T-intersection had only one stop sign—hers. She ignored it, took the corner on two wheels and a prayer, and bounced off the curb, narrowly missing a hydro pole and a second police cruiser, this one belonging to the OPP. The SUV settled onto all four tires again, and she exhaled in a gust. In the rearview mirror, she saw the police cruiser's dome lights come on. The vehicle pulled a sharp U-turn and got in line behind the RCMP car.
And then there were two.
Shit.
"You're doing great," Jonas said. "Ignore them. Stay focused. Where to from here?"
His voice held the level of calm reserved for discussing dinner plans, and Kate swallowed a burble of hysterical laughter as they shot through the sleepy riverside township. Later, Dexter. You can lose it later.
But not now. Definitely not now. Because where to? She didn't have a freaking clue.
Sirens screaming in their wake, they rocketed past houses and along the river shoreline. Lights grew fewer, the night darker. The road curved inland again, running through trees and between farm fields. The flashing red and blue in the mirror grew brighter. Ahead, the taillights of a semi-truck and trailer loomed in their path. Beyond, the headlights of another truck headed toward them.
A plan formed.
Perhaps not the smartest plan, but a plan nonetheless. One that would give them the distance they needed if they were going to have a hope in hell of losing the cruisers. They hurtled toward the semi ahead of them, and then, before she lost her nerve, Kate swerved around it into the other lane—and the path of the other truck. Hot on her tail, both cruisers followed.
The oncoming truck flashed its headlights at them, and the semi alongside them sounded its air horn in long, frantic blasts. With her foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor, Kate willed the SUV to greater speed, but the heavy vehicle was already moving flat out.
Jonas cursed.
Kate prayed for a miracle.
Behind them, the police cruisers careened back in behind the semi as blinding white filled the windshield. Kate waited another heartbeat and then, with the shriek of brakes filling her ears, yanked the steering wheel to the right and swerved back into her own lane in front of the semi she'd passed.
Close.
Too close.
Way too close.
Shaking and hollow with shock, Kate looked into the rearview mirror at the truck jack-knifed across the road and the lights of one cruiser sitting too low to still be on the road. She wanted nothing more than to pull over and puke her guts out, but instead she swallowed the bile rising in her chest, resolutely kept the accelerator glued to the floorboards, and sped on into the darkness.
Chapter 23
Jonas watched the police car’s lights in the side mirror. Kate's driving stunt might not have thrown off their pursuers altogether, but it had at least gained them some distance. Their only issue now was how to keep it. He glanced at the tightly wound woman gripping the steering wheel.
He cleared his throat. "Talk to me," he said. Keep me in the loop.
She shook her head, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror. Jonas's heart sank. She had nothing to say. No ideas. And the flashing lights were slowly gaining.
Then, "The owner's manual," she said. "It should be in the glove box. Find out which fuse is for the headlights in this thing."
"Can't you just turn them off?"
She reached out and hit a switch. The lights illuminating the road in front of the vehicle remained on. She shrugged as she met his gaze. "Daytime running lights," she said. "They're required by law in Canada."
A safety feature that would, ironically, be the death of them both if they didn't disable it.
Jonas felt for the glove compartment release. It dropped open, its interior lit by a small bulb. The owner's manual sat front and center, on top of a plastic folder. Dave Jennings was an organized man. Jonas tugged the book free and slammed the compartment closed. He switched on the overhead dome, raising an eyebrow at Kate.
"Can I ask how you plan to see where you're going without headlights?"
"Moonlight and blind luck," she replied. "Unless, of course, you have any other ideas?"
The tension underlying her voice told him she thought the idea as bad as he did, but no, he had nothing else to offer. Driving blind through the dark it would be. He flipped to the index at the back of the manual.
In the side mirror, the cruiser behind continued to gain on them.
"Now is a good time," Kate said through clenched teeth. "This thing won't go any faster."
"Hang on," Jonas growled back. "Okay, I've found the schematic."
He studied the page for a moment, running a finger
down the list of fuses at the side, matching them to their numbers on the diagram. Then he flipped back a page, searching for the fuse box location itself. His gaze locked onto another diagram. Flicked to Kate. Went back to the drawing.
They had to be joking.
"Damn it, Burke!" Panic laced Kate's voice.
He unclipped his seatbelt. "Fine, but just remember this was your idea," he muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"The panel's under the dash on your side."
Ignoring her mumbled, "Are you freaking kidding me?" he slid down in his seat and lay sideways across the console between them. His head came to rest on Kate's thigh. Their speed faltered for an instant. Then she pushed down on the accelerator again, a bunched tension replacing the softness beneath Jonas's cheek. He swallowed. Hard.
Hell. If impure thoughts hadn't already crossed his mind where Kate Dexter was concerned, that reaction would have made damned sure they did.
Clenching the owner's manual between his teeth, he fumbled for the fuse panel cover, located under the dashboard just above the accelerator. Kate's leg shifted under his cheek. He bit down harder on the book, fighting to hold onto the urgency of their situation. To ignore the body heat warming his stubbled jawline and the overwhelmingly female scent electrifying his senses.
God, even her kneecaps smelled delicious.
The panel cover parted from its catches without warning. Jonas grabbed for it but drew back when his hand connected instead with a fine-boned ankle. He extracted the manual from between his teeth.
"Sorry," he muttered. Kate said nothing. He peered at the myriad tiny fuses and the maze of wires sprouting from the panel. Great. In his present state he should figure out which one to pull by next Christmas. He held the manual at an angle to catch the light, searching for some kind of similarity—any similarity—between the diagram and the real thing.
Reaching through the wires, he tugged at one of the fuses. The heater fan died. Kate moved again, her firm, jeans-clad thigh rubbing against his head.
Jonas closed his eyes. Give me strength, he pleaded silently. And failing that, a really cold shower would be nice about now.
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