One Night At A Time

by Christa Conan

  He smelled trouble, even above the stench of Pickins’s chilling calling card, something, Doug realized belatedly, he should have recognized earlier.

  Pickins’s specialty was munitions. In their years together, Pickins had taught Doug a trick or two.

  Obviously, Pickins still liked to mess around with explosives. And that was the thing that had gotten him in trouble in the first place.

  “Are we supposed to be alone?”

  The quiet urgency in Arielle’s tone stirred his senses to greater awareness. Doug nodded.

  “I...saw a shadow in the upstairs window.”

  Gunpowder cracked.

  He yanked Arielle against the house, swearing.

  The shot had come from the second story. Doug figured they had maybe half a minute to make a move before Pickins got down the stairs. If that was what Pickins intended to do.

  And that was a huge uncertainty.

  The only thing predictable about Pickins was his unpredictability.

  Doug’s mind raced through options, discarding several in the space of a few seconds. “I keep a car in the garage.”

  She nodded.

  “You do drive, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered brokenly. He saw her struggle for composure, gulping rapidly.

  He dragged a set of keys from his front pocket. “This one will unlock the door to the garage.” When she nodded woodenly, he added, “This button unlocks the vehicle and shuts off the alarm, and this is the ignition key. Garage-door opener is attached to the visor. Start the engine and wait for me.”

  “Are you going to cover me?”

  “You watch too much TV,” he said. “But yeah, that’s the plan.”

  She swallowed deeply once more, then met his eyes. “Have you ever been scared, Doug?”

  “Every day of my life.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, he saw the glitter of determination that sparked azure eyes to deep blue.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  He barely submerged the impulse to kiss her.

  Instead, he settled for a quick hug, offering that damnable reassurance again.

  At a run, Doug moved away from the wall, kicking over a picnic table, a couple of chairs, then positioning himself behind a concrete planter.

  He squeezed off a round, then another, smashing the glass of the special-ordered French doors. His insurance agent wasn’t going to like this.

  Nor was the housekeeper.

  Pickins returned fire, a bullet whizzing from the guest bedroom window. Hell. Pickins had moved to another room.

  Shards of glass rained down, large ones spiking into the earth around Doug.

  After shooting off another round, he held his breath, knowing it wouldn’t take Pickins long to return fire. As soon as he did, Doug let loose a volley of rounds.

  In the deafening roar of the ensuing quiet, he heard the crank of a car engine. It sprang to life, settling into a well-maintained roar.

  Sprinting toward the open back door, he felt the snap of a bullet blast past his ear. Pickins hadn’t missed a beat, obviously anticipating their getaway plan.

  If only the man had used that talent for good instead of evil.

  Arielle was looking over her shoulder, eyes wide and mouth drawn in a tight grimace. When he reached the sport utility vehicle, Doug yanked open the rear door.

  He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Without looking, he dropped the ammo clip and slammed another into place. “Go!”

  Rubber burned on pavement as she stomped on the accelerator. The vehicle jumped from the curb as the back window splintered, the safety glass barely holding together.

  He was getting damn sick of being on the seeking end of pistol. Gravel crunched and spewed as the rear end fisheailed. Doug had expected as much. The car wouldn’t handle as well with a flat. The good news was, they were proving to be an unreliable target.

  She took the corner too fast, slamming his head against the door frame.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, fighting with the steering wheel.

  A couple of minutes later, there were no signs of pursuit. He knew better than to think it would be that easy, though. Pickins had never grasped the meaning of “You lose.”

  “Turn off here,” he instructed Arielle.

  “But there’s no road,” she protested.

  “There’s a barn we can hide behind,” he said, hoping the farmer and the cows didn’t mind.

  She braked to a halt on the far side of the barn, out of view of the main road.

  He climbed out. As he’d suspected, the tire and its rim were chewed up.

  Figured. Those were brand-new tires, less than two hundred miles on them.

  Arielle slowly emerged from behind the driver’s seat. Her legs trembled, and he noticed her locking her knees. “You okay?” he asked.

  “It’s a little harrowing,” she admitted, feathering her hair back from her face with shaky fingers.

  He took in her pale features, and the way she wove her hands together in front of her. He’d seen the same kind of guts once before. In Shannen Mitchell. He’d never thought see her equal, but in Arielle, he did.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  He shook his head. She was something else, all right. She’d been shot at a number of times, pressed into service as a sailor and driver, dealt with the shock of having her parents targeted by her assassin. And she wanted to know if she could do anything to help.

  Yeah, she was something else.

  “You any good at being a lookout?”

  “Does cafeteria duty count?”

  “In spades.” His respect for her nudged upward again Even though she was shivering from fright, she kept an eye on their surroundings while Doug placed the jack beneath the frame.

  Within a couple of minutes, he had the lug nuts broker loose and the wheels exchanged.

  The drone of an engine clamored in Doug’s ears.

  “There’s a car turning off the road,” she stated, looking at him.

  “Party’s over.”

  “You’re going to drive?” she asked, and he noted the quiet desperation in her tone.

  Nodding, he tossed the shredded tire in the back, then climbed behind the wheel, adjusting the seat farther back. By the time he’d fired the engine, she’d secured her safety belt.

  He stood on the accelerator, burning rubber off the new tire. At least he had four-wheel drive, while the other ve hide was a sedan. Made a dance through the farmer’s field more interesting.

  He hit a rut, jarring his spine. Stoically, she said nothing When they hit pavement again, leaving behind a cloud o dust, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a cellular-phone. Handing it to Arielle, Doug recited a series of numbers and instructed, “Tell them to have the Masterson, plane prepared for takeoff. I’ll need a full crew.”

  Arielle’s stomach pitched as Doug lowered his foot or the gas pedal and stared hard into the rearview mirror.

  Since she met Doug, she’d discovered a reservoir of red solve she hadn’t known existed. She wondered how deep it ran, though, and how long she’d be able to tap into it.

  Her heart ached at the agony she’d heaped on her family Her body hurt from the pounding it had taken. And her emotions rolled, in constant upheaval.

  Sleep had been scarce last night. She had tossed and turned, inhaling Doug’s scent when she plumped the pillow, imagining that each whisper of wind was his footstep. How would she have reacted if he had walked into his cabin and claimed his bed?

  She’d half feared he’d walk in...half hoped he would.

  She looked at Doug, seeing that his gaze switched between the mirrors and the road ahead. As the speedometer needle edged higher and higher, Doug kept careful control of the vehicle.

  As long as he was near, she held on to the illusion of safety. But when she was alone....

  Her knees had knocked as she dashed to the car. With each awkward step, she offered a prayer that, in trusting
Doug, she knew what she was doing. When he dashed toward the garage less than a minute after her, the blast of a bullet behind him, her fear had tripled.

  But his cool veneer of calm hadn’t faded, and they’d made another getaway. Thankfully.

  She’d gotten herself, along with him, into this mess, and she had to deal with the repercussions. Dear heaven, though, she didn’t know whether she possessed the resources to keep going. But she wanted so very desperately to live.

  Doug took a corner too fast, sending her sideways. Arielle grabbed the door handle for support. The squeal of tires, the scent of rubber, renewed the fear she was struggling so hard to control.

  Glancing her way, Doug offered a quick apology. Seconds later, he swore beneath his breath.

  She glanced over her shoulder, seeing a blue car following in their tracks. Would there be no end to this nightmare? “He’s still back there,” Arielle whispered.

  Doug nodded at her words. “He’s starting to annoy me.”

  Waiting until the last possible second, Doug made another right turn. She grabbed for the dash as the shoulder belt sliced into the side of her neck.

  They rounded a bend, rapidly approaching a set of railroad tracks. Arielle groaned out loud, seeing the lights blinking on the lowered gate that blocked their path to freedom. The echo of the warning bell vibrated through the interior of the car.

  Doug slowed the vehicle, lining up behind the cars already stopped.

  Desperately she looked toward Doug, knowing he had to have some sort of plan. He sat there, and only the sight of his drawn eyebrows indicated that he was remotely concerned.

  Her heart hammered, in time with the intermittent earsplitting blasts of the train’s horn.

  Doug glanced out the driver’s window, and she followed suit. The locomotive blazed toward the crossing, thundering a promise of devastation to anyone who got in its way.

  “Hold on,” Doug said, jerking the steering wheel to the left and flooring the gas pedal.

  No. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t possibly.

  Horns honked and Arielle swallowed a scream when Doug crashed through the closed gates.

  She looked out the window, her mind’s eye filled with torn and twisted wreckage. Squeezing her eyes shut, she linked her hands in prayer.

  Emotions derailed. Fear of dying consumed her, as it had since the day she spoke with the doctor. It wasn’t death that disturbed her, as much as it was dying before she’d had the chance to...

  Love. And be loved in return. To experience the passion she knew resided within her. Oh, God. She didn’t want to die before she knew what it was like to be whole. To be one with another. To fill the lonely, empty void deep inside. She had so much to give.

  The front end of the train clipped the rear end of the four-wheel drive. The scream she’d held back moments before broke free.

  Metal crunched. Crazily they careened out of control. The vehicle spun, making her see stars, as Doug fought to yank their front end away from the stopped cars that lined the opposite side of the track.

  The Blazer hit the gravel on the shoulder of the road, spewing dust and rocks, making traction difficult.

  Doug steered into the spin, bringing them to a stop, faced, unbelievably, in the right direction. The engine coughed and died. Doug turned the key. “Next time maybe I’ll rent a car.”

  She barely heard him over the crash of adrenaline and the squeal of metal on metal as the train’s brakes ground and sparked.

  Doug turned the ignition again and again. On the third attempt, the engine choked to life.

  Turning in his seat, he looked at Arielle. When he spoke, his tone slowed mellow and easy, his smooth baritone soothing her as nothing else could.

  “I keep asking if you’re okay.”

  She pried apart her hands and tried for a quick smile. It died before she formed it. “I’m still alive.”

  “And we’re going to keep you that way.”

  With her heart, she reached out to that promise and held it tight. The events she’d endured had been harrowing, yet she no longer fought the faceless enemy alone.

  Arielle realized that if she was still alone, she wouldn’t have survived this long. The killer had been closer than she ever imagined, following her, watching her. He knew her routine, where her parents lived....

  She shivered anew, and Doug turned on the heater.

  “Be back in a sec,” he said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Where—” When the word cracked, she tried again. “Where are you going?”

  “To check for damage.”

  The minute or two that he was gone seemed like the longest of her life.

  Finally, he took the wheel again. “It’s drivable,” he said, dropping the transmission into gear. “Train’s almost stopped. And I don’t want to give an explanation to the engineer.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. Finally, when she saw the sign for a small airport, she assumed their time together would soon end. Gathering her courage, she asked, “Doug...back there...at your house...”

  Doug frowned into the mirror, his jaw clenched.

  Thoughts spun through Arielle’s mind. “You didn’t seem shocked.” She swallowed. “Did Semper fidelis mean something to you?”

  Doug spared her a quick look. “Yeah.”

  “Then...?” She gripped the door handle until the blood flow to her hand seemed to be cut off.

  Not looking at her, he stated with deadly calm, “You walked into a trap meant for me.”

  Her stomach knotted. She couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. She was being hunted. And so was Doug? The possibilities crashed unbelievably into one another.

  “I screwed up, Arielle. I had no business taking you to my home.”

  Despite the horror churning in her, Arielle heard the threads of guilt and self-disgust in his tone. And she had an insane urge to reach out to him, to offer comfort. The two things, she suspected, he wouldn’t want from her.

  Tension lay over the passenger compartment, as thick and palpable as a morning fog.

  Flesh strained across Doug’s knuckles where he gripped the steering wheel, a betrayal of raw emotion. She’d wondered, until now, whether he really experienced emotion, or whether he kept everything buried, tidy behind lock and key, like he’d said.

  He was human, she realized, flesh and blood, like her. He felt pain, and that made them kindred spirits. Pain... a feeling she knew all too well.

  “Pickins is his name,” Doug said a minute or so later, after running a series of red lights. “Samuel Pickins. Expert in munitions. Destruction is his game. Recently released from prison, if my guess is right.” Doug trailed off, then finished, “I’ll have Brian pay him a little visit.”

  Arielle actually heard the anticipation that fired Doug’s words. That brought as much of a chill to her as anything else had.

  The man to whom she had entrusted her life didn’t live the same way she did, didn’t think the same way she did. He saw a life she’d never seriously imagined existed.

  Within ten minutes, Doug entered the parking lot of a small airport and pulled into the first available spot.

  Doug came around to her side, opening the door and offering her a hand.

  Was this to be goodbye?

  Oh, heaven above help her, she didn’t think she possessed the power to turn and walk away from him.

  Her pulse surged, and she wished she could read what he hid behind masked green eyes.

  Doug released Arielle’s hand, leaving her chilled...and afraid.

  “Shall we?” Doug asked.

  “Shall we what?”

  “Go.”

  “Go?”

  “To Colorado,” he replied, as if it were the most natural assumption in the world. “You know, skiing, mountains.”

  Arielle had never been west of the Eastern Seaboard.

  “Let me guess. You don’t know if you’re much of a flier.”

  “I’ve never—”

  “Flown
,” he finished for her. “Well, Miss Hale, you’re about to have the ride of your life.”

  Before she could form a response, he added, “Our chariot awaits.”

  “You’re going with me?” she asked, drinking in and holding a breath full of hope.

  Doug’s response seemed a long time in coming. Afternoon sunshine beat down on them, warming her almost as much as what she dared to dream.

  “Wouldn’t miss your first flight.”

  She drew her lower lip between her teeth, her mind racing through what he’d just said. Surely she couldn’t have misinterpreted, but just as surely he couldn’t be serious. Since she met him, he’d been determined to get rid of her, every action moving toward that goal. “But you said you were burned-out, that you need a vacation, that Brian—”

  “You wanted me, you’ve got me. You’re my responsibility. And I won’t fail you.”

  “But...”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  He reached for her, and common sense warned her to resist. She’d been in his arms before, she knew exactly how much she responded to him. Inherently she recognized the danger to herself, to her sanity, and most of all, to her heart.

  “Then allow me to be the first,” he said, his voice huskier than usual. Gently he cupped her shoulders in the curve of his hands. “Arielle, you talk too much.”

  His eyes had darkened to a color she was becoming familiar with... that of purposeful intent.

  He eased her toward him, folding his arms around her, offering the comfort she so desperately craved.

  She’d been self-reliant through the past years, never having anyone to turn to, to lean on. She’d been the person others relied on. Her parents had called her their pillar of strength. But how difficult that had been. At times she didn’t have the resources to hold herself up, let alone prop up others.

  Being near him, close enough to hear the thumping of his heart, sent skitters through her. He was offering himself, his comfort. The saints save her, but she couldn’t resist.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he stated.

  Her opportunity to protest passed without her speaking.

  She wanted this, wanted...him.