Chardy Walker Lieb

by The Saint

  "My God, Jake, are you all right?" She dabbed the bloodstained cut beneath his right eyebrow with the cuff of her sweater sleeve.

  He pushed her hand away. "I'm fine."

  "Jake, I'm so sorry that I–"

  "Don't." He pressed his fingertips to her lips.

  She turned away and tried in vain to see out the tinted windows. Resting her head against the cool glass, she sighed. "I won't beg your forgiveness, if you promise, just for the moment, not to tell me how really bad this is."

  Because of, or maybe despite, the insanity they found themselves in at the moment, that brought a smile to Jake's lips. In all the years he'd known Courtney, that was the biggest crock he had ever heard. Courtney St. Claire–Montgomery–not wanting all the facts. Fat chance.

  "Don't grin," she ordered. "We both know we're in ass deep, so first just tell me where they're taking us."

  "Don't worry. We will get out of this." Evading the question, Jake grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  "Where are they taking us?" she repeated.

  Improvising, he told her, "Dirk's cabin."

  She inched across the seat and laid her head on his shoulder. Solid and sturdy, that's what she needed. Snuggling closer, he smelled hauntingly reminiscent of last night. Her heart ached for the connection. The familiarity struck a bittersweet cord. "Oh, great. Probably somewhere in Wisconsin."

  Smart lady, he decided, agreeing with her deduction about the cabin's location. He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled the subtle perfume of her hair.

  "I'm scared, Jake."

  "I know." Holding her was about all he had to offer at the moment. Well, that, and some crucial survival training advise he'd learned in the Navy. "It's critical you truly believe we'll get out of this mess." He felt her nod against his neck.

  "For Janey's sake, we have to." Content to rest against his strong frame, she reaffirmed, "We will get out together."

  "Forever," he whispered, finishing the long ago vow they'd never honored.

  He remembered. Courtney fought the tears that stung her eyes. Six years had passed and Jake hadn't forgotten pledging together forever every night before they parted. Who would have thought underneath that tough guy act, he would have remembered that sweet promise after all these years? Nothing could have pleased her more.

  "Looks like we may get our wish but the hard way," she tried to tease. "I don't know about you, but I meant staying together forever–alive. Not the mystical, transcending death kind of forever.

  "Ya got that right." That was so typical of–what had he called her back then? Cut-to-the-chase, Courtney. Even at twenty-two she'd had the ability to hit the heart of the matter like a bull's-eye. If thought she was intelligent then, she was extraordinary now. As much to comfort himself as to console her, he ran his fingers down the length of her hair. So soft. So silky. Need, raw and relentless, churned inside him.

  Not the red-hot need of desire, but the deep to-the-bone need to start over. To stop running from the past. To stop hiding from the pain of losing his partner and best friend, Juan Rivera. To start living again. How ironic, he thought, in light of his present circumstances. But all the more reason to make sure he and Courtney got out of this alive. Clinging to their own thoughts as well as one another, they rode the rest of the way in silence. The ride went from a smooth feeling, stop-and-go city drive to a long, bumpy country stretch of road. When the car stopped, they heard the front doors open and slam shut, before being pulled from the comfort of the dimly lit back seat and shoved into the harsh light of day.

  Courtney tried her best not to be impressed, but the cabin, as it had been referred to, appeared to be more of a dramatically constructed, elegant log home. And that wasn't counting the fabulous wrap around porch or the magnificent pines and colorful array of tulips surrounding it.

  Inside, as in Templeton's home in Chicago, the cabin was a veritable treasure chest. Nothing but perfection. Any other time antiques like the stunning spinning wheel, the cherry-and-pine dough table, or the beautiful array of handmade woven rugs and quilts would have wowed Courtney. Not today.

  Right now, there was only one thing on her mind. Escape. How hard was it going to be to get out of here? she wondered. With Templeton's penchant for details, his security system was probably state of the art. Judging from the militant look on Jake's face, Courtney assumed her take on the situation was right on target. Nothing short of a miracle would free them.

  Eddie shoved Courtney's purse at her and pointed toward the davenport. Without having to be told, she sat down and looked inside her bag the moment his back was turned–empty, except for her billfold.

  Jake, on the other hand, entered the room a little harder. He and Sal wrestled their way through the doorway. The scuffle might have ended in a draw except Sal used his extra weight to slam Jake down next to Courtney.

  "Don't move," Sal warned. Jake muttered some comment, telling Sal exactly what he could do with his order. "Jake, please," Courtney pleaded. He rolled both shoulders in frustration. "I'm fine." "In case you hadn't noticed," Courtney began, careful to keep her voice low, "we seem to be at a

  slight disadvantage here." No guns–they'd taken his. No cell phone–they'd taken hers. No joke–and Jake knew that better than anybody. He glared at Sal and Eddie, knowing Courtney was right–and hating every moment of it. "Oh, don't be too sure," he whispered, changing his mind mid-calculation. "I'd say the advantage is

  pretty much ours." Courtney opened her mouth to speak–realized what Jake had said–and closed it, without uttering a

  word. "Think about it," he prodded. "We have one thing that Brain-Dead-Eddie and Sal don't." Absolutely clueless as to where he was going with this, she folded her arms and challenged, "I can

  hardly wait to hear what our advantage is." He leaned closer. "We have the hunger." "Oh, now I get it," Courtney mocked. Gritting her teeth, she whispered, "For God's sake, would you

  speak English?" Keeping his eye on Eddie and Sal, he pointed out, "They're just doing their job. To them, this no

  different than producing piecework on an assembly line. We're the ones with something to lose–" "And everything to gain," she completed, cautiously conceding that point. "Exactly." Jake nodded. "And there is that other small advantage." Beneath Jake's slightly swollen brow, Courtney could still detect an unmistakable glimmer in his

  eye. "I'm almost afraid to ask." He shrugged. "They're both dumb as dirt." He'd spoken the phrase with such a straight face, Courtney couldn't believe the nervous burst of

  laughter that erupted from her lips. Drawing frowns from both Eddie and Sal, she immediately regrouped and vowed to get Jake back later. When they were out of this mess. Safe and sound. Her smile waned. And what a grand mess they were in. Thanks to her.

  Who was Jake kidding? Eddie and Sal might never be a threat to national security, but despite all of Jake's hype he still couldn't deny the truth. Eddie and Sal had guns. The cell phone. And the car keys. And all she and Jake had? Well, all they had was a desperate need to escape. For Janey, she thought miserably.

  Jake listened carefully as Eddie phoned in and reported to Dirk. "Hey, boss. We're here." He saw Eddie check his watch. "Sure." Eddie glanced their way. "Will do." Would it kill this moron to grunt more than two syllables at a time? Jake faunched at the bit to get

  some kind of handle on where the hell they were, and what Templeton intended to do with them. He

  watched Eddie slip the phone back into his pocket and retrieve two pair of handcuffs from Sal. "Oh, no you don't." Jake's statement was emphatic, his tone unquestionable. Courtney saw the cuffs about the same time Jake jumped up. Scrambling to her feet, she caught his

  arm. "Jake, don't." "Better listen to the little lady," Sal warned. Jake lunged forward, eager to punch his fist through Sal's face. Until Eddie stuck the barrel of his

  .357 in his ear and stopped him cold. "No!" Courtney screamed, wedging herself between Eddie and Jake. "Courtney!" Blocking Eddie's hand, J
ake grabbed her arm and yanked her back hard. Pushing her

  behind him, his temper exploded. "Stay out of this!" She turned on him. "It's a little late for that," she screamed.

  The cocking of Eddie's gun put an immediate end to the argument. "Come on, Sal. We're going downstairs." Dangling the cuffs in Jake's face, Eddie sneered, "You think I need these to get you two downstairs?" Eddie pointed his gun toward a door at the far end of the kitchen. "Move it, or I'll kill you both." Jake sandwiched himself between Courtney and Templeton's men. In order to do his job, he had to keep them off balance. What the hell was her excuse?

  Without compunction, Courtney had jumped right into the middle of the fray. Standing side-by-side with him. Going toe-to-toe with Eddie. O’Shea, Jake decided, would have been damned proud of her guts– for about two seconds. After that, Brian would have let her have it for pulling such a dangerous stunt. That's assuming he could have beaten Jake to the punch. When he thought of the chance she'd taken…

  All Jake had to do now was get the two of them out alive, so he could tell Brian exactly what kind of a pit bull Courtney was. Well that, and then kick O’Shea's butt from Chicago to Dublin for going along with her on this.

  As instructed, Courtney's shaky hand managed to open the door, and she was relieved when an overhead light came on. She forced her wobbly legs to make their way down the flight of steps leading into the basement. Turning, she caught Jake's unreadable expression and felt her stomach roll over, not once but twice. Eddie brandished his gun to herd them to the far corner of the room.

  Amidst the stacks of boxes and crates, Jake saw the large, metal loops, just like the ones at the police station, secured about waist high and several feet apart in the concrete wall. Looks like we aren't Templeton's first guests.

  As far as Jake was concerned as of this minute all bets were off. To hell with his undercover investigation. To hell with nailing Dirk Templeton. To hell with his own life, if that's what it takes to get Courtney out of here. After all she was a single parent with a daughter to raise.

  Jake remembered the sweet little girl with long, dark hair. Just like her mother. As much as he would like to go there, Jake shook off the envious twinge and forced himself to refocus. Later, he promised.

  "Look, Eddie," Jake began. "Go ahead and lock me up, but take her back with you."

  "No can do, man."

  "Think about it." Jake paused, hoping Eddie could actually put two and two together. "She's the key to this entire sting."

  Eddie shook his head.

  Come on pea brain, even Mr. Ed can paw the ground four times in a row, Jake swore silently. "I'm telling you, Pal. The boss needs her to find out where that information went."

  "Save it. You're not my pal, and I've got my orders. Dirk said to lock up both of you and come back to the office."

  "You'll be the hero, Eddie," Jake coaxed, grinning like he'd just set Eddie up with a transvestite hooker. "You know how grateful the boss can be."

  "Forget it, Jake."

  "Suit yourself." Jake shrugged and shook his head. "But you know how Dirk hates stupid mistakes."

  Eddie's head snapped up.

  "Like you being late for security rounds. And dropping off packages at the wrong address."

  Eddie frowned.

  "Are you absolutely sure the boss told you to leave us both here? Because I've got to be honest with you, it doesn't make sense to me."

  Jake was so close to schmoozing Eddie he could taste it. A fraction more finesse and he would have Courtney on her way back to Chicago. He knew she was smart enough to hold her own with Eddie and Sal. And when Jake didn't check in with O’Shea on schedule, there would be a far better chance Brian could

  save her than…Well, from the look of things it looked like Jake's hands were going to be tied.

  "You know, Eddie, the boss told me–one more screw up–one more mistake, no matter how small– and you were history."

  Courtney saw exactly where Jake was going with this. She couldn't let him trade himself to give her a chance. "Don't–"

  "Shut up, Courtney," Jake ordered.

  Ignoring the controlled rage in his voice, she continued, "But, Jake–"

  "Dammit, Courtney," he warned. "Let it go."

  "Both of you–shut the hell up," Eddie ordered.

  Jake met and held her gaze. She had figured out what he was trying to do. Now he had to let her know exactly what her part in this charade would be once she got free.

  "If you think Dirk's got connections, Eddie, you should meet her Uncle O’Shea." When her head snapped up, Jake nodded almost imperceptibly. "Templeton doesn't amount to a pimple on this guy's butt." He turned from Eddie to reaffirm with Courtney. "And he loves his little niece, doesn't he, Babe?"

  Frantic to process what was happening but fighting her own conclusion, she quickly answered the question. "Yes, he does."

  "So what?" Eddie challenged.

  "So, you'd better get her back to Chicago and fast. She has dinner with Uncle Brian once a week, and if I'm not mistaken tonight's the night." He turned from Eddie to Courtney. "Isn't that right?"

  Courtney was speechless. It was all she could do to nod her head. Jesus, Joseph and Mary! Jake wasn't some two-bit thug. He had to be the undercover cop Uncle Brian had working on the inside. Suddenly everything made sense. All the unexplained details fell neatly into place.

  "If she doesn't show up as scheduled, believe me, all hell will break loose. Her Uncle will tear Chicago apart–" he held Courtney's wide-eyed gaze and enunciated to make his point–"unless she checks in with him by five o'clock."

  My God, he's telling me what to do. Her heart swelled with pride and countless emotions she didn't have time to identify right now. But she would, she promised. Later, when they were both safe.

  "Can it." Eddie shook his head. "The boss said you both stay."

  "Did I forget to mention her uncle is a police officer?" Jake pulled out all the stops, knowing O’Shea could take care of himself.

  Eddie hesitated. "A cop?"

  "One of Chicago's finest." Jake folded both arms across his chest. "A lieutenant, in fact, and you know how those cops take care of their own."

  "Screw the cops." Eddie pointed the gun first at her, then at Jake. "Put your hands on opposite sides of the ring."

  Arms outstretched, Courtney complied. She waited a beat, watching Eddie closely…cuffs in hand, he hesitated. Wanting him to react and not to think, she chose her words carefully, spoke softly. "Please don't do this."

  Before she could say more, the glimmer that might have been his conscience disappeared, taking her hopes with it. Her heart sunk. He would follow through and secure her; she was certain of it.

  Men like Sal and Eddie spent their entire lives following. In their minds, there was never a question of right or wrong, because moral calls were never theirs to make. Orders were orders.

  Eddie tossed her purse aside. "Don't waste your time screaming, 'cause this joint's sound proof," Eddie said, clicking the bracelets shut.

  As the cold metal cuffs closed around her wrists, she felt her fate–once again–sealed with Jake's. At least this time she had believed in him enough. She was only sorry this time had come too late.

  CHAPTER 9

  >When the door slammed behind Eddie and Sal, the light went off, leaving the basement dark except for two ground level, half-moon shaped windows. Large enough to let in a minimum amount of daylight at best, they were far too small to provide an escape.

  "Bastards," Jake muttered. While his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he strained to see. "Courtney, are you all right?"

  "Yes," she assured him, grateful he couldn't see her face. She never had been able to lie and get away with it. Especially when she was frightened. Cursing her all-too-vivid imagination, the grisly horror movie she had seen last week, and Stephen King, himself, Courtney took a deep breath. She reminded herself that she and Jake were alone down here.

  No psychopathic bogeymen. No fang-dripping creatur
es. No…way was she going to give up! She couldn't. She had Janey to think about. Metal clamored against metal as she struggled with the restraints. Uncontrollable frustration bubbled

  dangerously close to the surface, like a witch's brew on a moonlit night. Fury, dark and frightening,

  exploded inside her. For what was. For what might have been. For what might never be. "Damn you, Eddie," she screamed. "Damn you to hell." "Settle down," Jake yelled. "Don't fight it. You'll only hurt yourself." "Shut up!" she shouted, struggling for control and losing miserably. "You…just …shut…up." How

  could she and Jake have gotten this close? To nailing Templeton. To getting out of this alive. To finding

  each other again. She stomped. And cried. And swore. Jake stood there in the dark, totally pissed off. Nothing in his life had prepared to feel helpless.

  Unable to comfort her and unwilling to give in, he offered the best advise he could. "Go ahead and let it out."

  “I don’t need your permission,” she hissed. Pulling and cursing until the steel bracelets rubbed both wrists raw, Courtney bent her head to meet her outstretched hand. The metal cuffs clanked against the iron loop as she swiped away the warm tears trickling down her cheeks. Exhausted, she simply ran out of steam.

  Jake could only imagine what must be going through Courtney's mind since she had quieted down. More concerned by the deafening silence than the outburst it had followed, he gave her a few moments, then called into the semi-darkness, "Courtney?"

  "Yes."

  She sounded way too calm for someone who'd just been hysterical. "Are you all right?" he asked, barely able to see her outline against the twilight that filtered through the partial windows.

  "No." Sagging against the restraints, she decided there was no point in lying.

  "I know, Sweetness," he told her softly, still very attuned to the matter-of-fact tone of her voice. "Listen to me. When I don't check in with O’Shea, he'll know something's wrong. After that, it's only a matter of time before we're out of here." He justified the lie, believing at this point in time her frame of mind was far more important than his character–or lack thereof. Especially in light of the fact that no one connected with Templeton's case, including him, knew squat about the existence of this cabin.