by J. L. Saint
Jack cut his gaze toward the fence, saw the men in Angie’s yard pause then walk toward the noise.
“Damn. They’re coming.” He turned quickly, assessing the escape options for two women, two kids and two dogs. Not good. He realized he shouldn’t have given Lauren time to accept him or embrace her kids. They should have collected everyone and disappeared.
Angie held up a set of keys and pointed to the back door just ahead. “House sitting. Neighbors are gone.”
Jack moved fast, sweat pouring and heart pounding as if he were cuffed with a gun to his head. Fear for the kids kicked him hard in the gut. What if his daughter were seconds away from danger? He scooped up the twins, one in each arm. “Quiet. Bad guys are coming,” he told the boys. They leaned into his shoulders with their race cars clutched tight. He could feel their shivering as he ran to the back door.
Angie fumbled the lock open, her hands shaking. Lauren and the dogs were on his heels when he slipped inside the house. Locking the door behind them, he made a quick assessment of his surroundings. Staying meant they’d be trapped. He found a key rack in the kitchen, a vehicle in the garage, and within ninety seconds, he backed out to the street in a green mini-van.
Just in case the men in black hadn’t caught on yet, he had a golf cap pulled low on his brow and a bag of clubs in the passenger’s seat. Lying on the floor behind him were Lauren, her friend and the kids. The dogs were cramped in the back storage area. Even in his wildest imaginings, he never could have cooked up this scenario.
The front yard was empty, but he counted his blessing too soon. The men came leaping over the fence in a hurry. Jack gave up all pretenses and floored the gas pedal. In his rearview mirror, he saw the men chasing after them, pistols with silencers raised. The pavement near the rear tires puffed dust from bullets.
Jack prayed hard and gunned the engine. He flew by Angie’s house and then, half a block later, Lauren’s car. A black sedan and a police patrol car had pinned her car in. What the hell?
Either it was a stolen or fake cop car, or a cop was hanging out with the wrong crowd. They were likely monitoring all radio transmissions too. If Jack called for help, he might just get Lauren and the kids kidnapped and himself killed.
His car, farther up the road, stood as he left it, which gave him even more ominous information to consider. “Lauren, turn your cell off. I’ll explain later.”
“Done,” she said.
“What’s the quickest route to the Interstate?”
“Right at the end of the street.” Lauren moved closer to his seat. “Then at the second light go left. You’ll see signs for I-85.”
“Now get everyone buckled.” In his rearview mirror, just before he turned right, Jack saw both the black sedan and the cop car racing toward them. The cop had his lights on but no siren. “This may get rough.” His stomach churned at the danger to the kids, but the alternative was even uglier.
“Mom!” Mitch cried, clearly frightened.
Matt’s reaction was even more terrifying.
“We’re racing like E-hart!” Matt exclaimed. He sat in the rear seat with Angie next to him. “Zoom. Zoom.”
Jack clenched his teeth; he’d have to tell the boy never to do what he was doing. He made it to the end of the street and managed to wedge himself in between a Lincoln and a Dodge as he pulled out into the traffic. Then he illegally passed the Lincoln in front of him via a right-hand turn lane.
The cop car kept coming, lights flashing, nearly running over the cars in front of him. The Lincoln and Dodge pulled to the roadside, barely making it between mail boxes and street signs. Jack reached the red light. He could already tell that out-racing these jokers wasn’t going to be an acceptable option. They were faster and more reckless considering their heartless endangerment of children and innocent bystanders. Trying to lose them in an adrenaline-pumping high speed chase like in the movies would be stupid. He had to avoid it.
At the light he hung a right instead of a left and made an immediate right into the corner gas station, then disappeared behind the building before the cop made it to the corner. Jack screeched to a halt and the golf clubs in the front passenger seat hit the dash with a hard thwack and clattered to the floorboard.
“Mom?” Mitch cried out again.
“Mitch, don’t worry,” Lauren said. “I’m here. Just hold onto your seat tight.” She was scared too, and the tight emotion in her voice was clear.
The Shepherds whined then barked, worried about their charges.
The pressure of keeping everyone safe was heavier and more intense than he’d ever experienced before in his life. The cop hung a right at the light, just as Jack had. Jack moved around the side of the gas station then.
Delta operatives were trained to operate in chaos. Practically any takedown of an enemy, no matter how precisely planned, was nothing more than controlled chaos. Unexpected elements always appeared. Yet, the crunch of trying to escape in a minivan from two assassins with two dogs, two kids and two women in tow was worse than any mission he’d ever tackled.
“We’re okay,” Jack reassured the kids. “We’re going to outsmart them. Make them disappear like I made the quarter go away.” He watched as the black sedan took the right turn on two wheels. Then Jack pulled back into that intersection the moment the light turned green and made a left. The Lincoln he’d passed earlier was once again behind him. He had about sixty seconds before the cop and the sedan figured out his maneuver.
Signs for Interstate 85 appeared, but just past that was a large shopping mall.
Jack weighed the odds and accepted Providence’s helping hand. He sailed past the Interstate and turned into the megatropolis mall, going to the far side of the packed parking lot beneath a row of fat pear trees.
Glancing at the cars entering the Interstate, he saw a cop car with flashing lights whizz into the traffic, making cars swerve wildly to get out of his way. No black Sedan followed the cop, which meant that sucker was still close by and looking for them. The men in black probably already had the license number to the mini-van, which meant as long as they were in it, they wouldn’t be safe. Six pairs of eyes stared at him from the backseat, four human, two canine and all of them frightened and worried.
He took a bracing breath and set a reassuring smile on his face. His entire focus had shifted in a matter of an hour. Keeping the innocent safe took precedence over unraveling the mystery behind Bill Collins’s death.
“What are we doing here?” Lauren leaned forward in the middle seat.
“Shopping,” he muttered under his breath, as he shifted in his seat to see her. He hated like hell that he was going to have to steal in front of the kids.
She blinked at him, genuine surprised slacking her jaw. “Shopping?”
“For a car.”
“But there isn’t a dealership… Oh God.” Realization dawned, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Better than the high-speed alternative that would put all of you and other folks in danger.”
She exhaled. “Okay. I’ll take the ‘better than’ then.”
“Reminds me of the Could Be Worse books. Right, Matt? Right, Mitch?” Angie asked, clearly trying to distract the boys.
“What books?” Jack asked absently as he scoured the surrounding area for the biggest, most accessible vehicle. Behind him was a carwash and detailing service called CleanSmart with the slogan, “Clean while you shop”. The keys for the cars would likely be hanging on an unattended rack near their business shack. He could steal the Lexus the workers were putting the final buff to, but stuffing everyone in would be rather tricky. The other cars in line to clean were smaller.
“Matt’s favorite bedtime stories,” Lauren said.
“They’re the bestest,” Matt said. “A real grandpa says it all the time.”
Lauren explained. “He says ‘could be worse’ after anything wrong happens.”
“Good philosophy.” Jack continued his search. Beyond the CleanSmart was a collection of tour buses, school
buses and retirement center vans with several drivers smoking in the parking lot. One of them wore a tattered cap with Vietnam stamped on it.
“I thought so too, until I heard, ‘could be worse’ every time after the boys got in trouble.”
Jack smiled, thinking Lauren’s position as mother wasn’t much different from his as a Delta team leader. He’d heard something similar to those words many times when dealing with his men. He also had another idea that might avoid grand larceny.
“I’ll be right back.” He opened his car door.
“You’re leaving us here?” Something besides fear laced Lauren’s tight tone and drew Jack’s attention back to her angel face and sinner mouth. He could readily see her worry of the situation, but he also caught a hint of doubt, as if she thought he might abandon them. How Bill Collins could have walked out on her and his two young sons was incompre—
You let Livy go. His conscience slapped him. His divorce from Jill, though welcomed in the face of her infidelities, hadn’t been Jack’s choice. He’d let his wife go and she’d snatched every bit of his daughter away from him that she could. He shoved the searing thoughts aside for now.
“See those buses over there?” He nodded in to the right, his tone strained. “I’m going out in the open. You all are safer here under the trees. You can move to the front seat. If you see our man in the black sedan, hit the panic button on the keys. I will likely see him before you do and be back in seconds, okay?”
“All right.” Lauren unbuckled her seat belt. Jack exited the car and opened the side door for her. He kept a sharp eye on everything happening around them as she transferred to the front. Even so he was still all too aware of her fresh lavender scent and the radiating warmth of her body mere inches from his. Her face was pale, her features drawn with stress and her lush bottom lip was even fuller than before, likely swollen from where she’d worried it between her teeth.
This shouldn’t be happening. The kids should be laughing and playing in the pool. She should be… He axed that thought from his mind. Visions of how to get her relaxed and happy were too damn vivid. After assuring the doors were locked, he left the van, stomping on the gripping need in him to be immediately at their side to protect them. He kept scanning for any sign of a roving black sedan as he crossed to the buses, forcing himself to walk when all he wanted to do was haul ass.
He approached the vet who split off from the group to speak as Jack requested. Jack quickly learned that Stan Brady was a grizzled, five-nine, sharp-as-a-tack gent who’d flown copters in ’Nam. He still kept his hair buzzed and his boots to a high shine. A short conversation and a handshake later, the vet pulled in front of the mini-van with a Serenity Village passenger van.
Lauren and Angie both had armed themselves with a golf club during his absence and looked ready to use it when he reappeared. Still, they looked more than relieved to see him. They ushered the kids in to the van and he loaded the dogs. Quick and competent, Stan left the mall area. He noticed the twins’ Dale Earnhardt, Jr. race cars and began telling the boys how he got to ride and drive Earnhardt’s car. Eyes wide and attention riveted to the man’s story, the boys were soon distracted from the upset of the situation. Within five minutes of leaving the mall, Stan’s bus driving pals phoned, reporting two men in black had found the mini-van and were canvassing the area. Only then did Jack let himself take a deep breath and ease some of the tension gripping his gut.
They were all safe for the moment but a long way from being out of danger.
Now he needed answers. ASAP. He slid his gaze over Lauren. Her eyes were closed at the moment, as if she were silently praying. She sat in the row of seats behind the driver, Matt on one side, Mitch on the other. She had a hand resting on each of their shoulders, holding the most important people in her world. Kids whose father’s actions had likely thrust them into harm’s way.
If he hadn’t already shot Bill Collins he’d do it now. He sat behind Lauren. Angie was opposite, closest to the motorized doors. The dogs were parked in the center aisle between.
Jack leaned closer and tapped Lauren on the shoulder. “These men know a lot about you. And some of the facts aren’t adding up.”
She shifted to see him, blue gaze a stormy sea of vulnerability and resolve. She’d go to the ends of the earth for her kids and protect them with her last breath. “What do you mean?”
“They’d blocked your car in. Mine wasn’t touched, making me sure we weren’t followed from your house. It also indicates they may have the resources to track you via your cell phone signal.”
She exhaled sharply. “God. Are you sure?”
“Let’s consider I was wrong, and they did follow you to Angie’s house today. How did they know which house was Angie’s? You didn’t park there, and we didn’t approach the house from any observable position. I’d keep your cell phone turned off. Use mine for any calls you need to make. And I wouldn’t leave any sort of electronic trail either. No credit cards, ATM’s, et cetera.”
“I see what you mean. Either they already knew Angie’s my friend and I’d stayed there last night or they tracked me somehow.”
“We can’t forget about the muddy prints in Angie’s kitchen.”
“If the men in black arrived after us then whose footprints are they?”
“Good question.” He looked over at Angie, sitting across from them. “The back door was left open. Do you know for sure that you had shut it?”
Angie rolled her eyes. “With Matt and Mitch leading the posse, I don’t think there can be a for sure, but I thought I had.” She shivered. “You can bet from now on the door gets locked and I’m getting a security system.”
“Buy a big dog instead,” Lauren advised. “The elaborate system Bill had his buddy Conrad install wasn’t worth a fig. They disabled it.”
“I think I hear a Great Dane or a Mastiff calling my name,” Angie said.
“So who left the footprints in the kitchen if the men hadn’t arrived yet?” Lauren frowned.
“Good question,” Jack said.
“You said Bill was involved in something. What and who?”
“I’m not sure yet, so it’s best if I keep that to myself right now.”
“That’s not an answer I can accept.” Lauren shook her head. “You want me to trust you enough to talk. Keeping things from me will make that impossible.”
Jack nodded, expecting that from her, but somehow still feeling a twinge of what would never be. “I understand.” Aside from the fact that he’d killed her husband, the father of her kids, his job was nothing but secrets. Something Jill couldn’t tolerate. “For right now, Lauren, just think global and radical, and as soon as I can say more, I will. You can’t go back to Angie’s and you can’t go home. I wouldn’t contact anyone you know until we can get a handle on who is after you and why.”
“How are we supposed to figure out who they are?”
“First, you and I are going to talk and see if any of the pieces fit the puzzle. Second, you can help me get into Bill’s life. He had to live somewhere. He had friends, an office, any person or place where we might find clues to what he was involved in. I don’t think I have to tell you just how serious this is. Just how much of a life and death situation this is turning into.”
“No. You don’t.”
“I suggest we stay at a hotel until we can sort this out.”
“I still don’t know you.”
“No worries, Laur. I’m staying with you. We can drop Sasha and Sam off at my mother’s house and camp out at the Ritz for a few days,” Angie spoke up, making Jack blink with surprise, something that didn’t happen often.
“The Ritz?” He mentally calculated what two rooms would cost per night for who knew how long. He had money in his account but that could eventually stretch his limit.
Anyone ever hear of Motel Six?
Chapter Seventeen
Atlanta, Georgia
1800 hours
Conrad Garner drove slowly past the elaborate stone and
fountain entrance to the St. John’s Country Club. He only dared to make one pass and tried to absorb as many details as possible—motorized heavy-iron gates, alarm system, video cams and a cop-wanna-be in the guardhouse. He would be a problem, a witness Conrad couldn’t afford to have.
He continued around the ten-foot stone-walled perimeter, noting any changes and weaknesses in security system as the forested areas grew denser the closer he came to the Chattahoochee River. At the service entrance to the world class golf course, he found no guard, but a card key gate and standard video surveillance. Passable if he wanted to go to the effort. So would entering via the river side, but he had a better idea.
Edward Weiss had taken the silver spoon he’d been born sucking and had turned it into solid gold in Atlanta’s real estate market. He lived in high style. Spent most of his time playing golf or traveling and showed up at the office every now and then to close on the multi-million dollar deals his assistants put together. Edward constantly claimed that he’d made more real estate deals doing eighteen holes than most executives did by hours in boardrooms. He had a trophy wife with Pamela Anderson implants who spent her time either in the spa or shopping, two daughters off at boarding school, and not a care in the world. The bastard had it all.
Why in the hell had Bill even bothered to cut Edward in on the five million? Why hadn’t Bill realized that he, Conrad, needed it more than all of the others in the group all together?
Growing more pissed by the minute, he checked his cell phone again. Not a peep from any of the guys.
Which meant one thing. They had cut him out of the picture so they could have all the money for themselves. Were they behind either of the men at Collins’s house? Did they now have Lauren’s letter from Bill? If they did, then they had three of the six clues. He only had two.
His teeth ached from the pressure of his anger.
They didn’t need the money. They went on international golfing trips. Dined in uppity restaurants and camped out at five star hotels. In fact, now that he really thought about it, the whole Vegas tradition, being one of the guys and all that stuff was nothing more than a pity fuck for good old Con.
