by Terry Spear
To his relief, she didn’t even wince, and he figured the medication induced deep REM sleep. Her blond hair curled over her shoulders, and he sighed deeply. Once he’d seen her in the flesh, he’d been totally taken by her. But dancing with her at the club had clinched his feelings for her. He wanted to take time to get to know her better.
He’d never known a woman who could stir him so. Yet she acted cautiously about getting to know him like he wanted to get to know her. Why? As capable a woman as she appeared to be at taking care of herself, she seemed afraid to be too intimate with him.
Her brother had said it all, she was shy. Yet, she melted to Dave’s touch. Somehow he’d slipped in between the chinks of armor she wore to keep herself safe, and she had welcomed him there. No way did he want to ruin her trust in him.
But when she learned he wasn’t who he claimed to be, what then? The notion she would reject him made him feel a hint of foreboding. Wanting to keep her safe for more than this one mission, he desired all of his future endeavors to include her, too.
As much as he wanted to replace the pillow she now cuddled with tightly with his own body, he took a deep breath, turned and headed out of the bedroom, phone in hand.
***
When Deidre woke, the manuscript Dave read had disappeared and so had he. The medicine made her crave water as she tried to swallow and felt as though she’d crossed the desert without a canteen.
She rolled over on her side and slipped out of bed. “Dave?”
Padding through the one-bedroom apartment, she found no sign of him. She poured a glass of water from the kitchen sink, then sipped it. After setting the glass on the counter, she walked across the living room and opened the front door. “Dave?”
The medicine made her whole body shake, and she hated the feeling. As soon as she could stomach the pain from the accident, she wasn’t taking any more medication.
Crossing the landing, she twisted the doorknob to her place. It was unlocked and the door opened with the familiar squeak. One of these days, she’d pick up some oil and fix the annoying noise.
Papers shuffled in Charlie’s closet. Dave was getting more manuscripts for them to read. She smiled. Probably looking for the good ones first.
She headed for the bedroom and walked inside. So sure Dave leafed through pages of manuscripts in the closet, when she saw the red-haired man crouched there instead, it didn’t register at once. He rose to his feet. He knew she was there. He knew and she couldn’t move.
If he had a gun, he’d shoot her in the back when she turned to run. If he held a knife, he could throw it. Instead, she stood as frozen as an icicle dangling off a roof in wintery Wisconsin.
Then he turned. His eyes, vibrant green, locked onto hers and his cheeks lightly peach freckled, dimpled. Surprisingly handsome, and perfectly deadly.
She smiled. Maybe she could talk her way out of this one. “Oh, you’re Charlie’s friend. I’m so glad you came to take this mess away.”
He stared dumbfounded at her, and she continued to smile. She edged her way to the door. “Listen, I’m going to run over to the management and complain about a problem with roaches I’m having. Just take your time. I’ll be right back.”
Roaches—the biggest cockroaches she’d seen in her life.
She didn’t think she’d make it to the door in time. She fought the urge to run. Anytime now, she knew piano wire would wind tightly around her neck.
Her fingers grasped the front doorknob, and she twisted. Pulling the door open, she turned slightly and smiled at the man. He just stood in the hallway and watched her. “Take all of the time you need.”
She closed the door behind her, then darted into Dave’s apartment and relocked the door. “Dave?” She ran to the bedroom window. Frowning, she saw Dave speaking to a man in the parking lot. Pulling at the window, she found the sash stuck. She rapped on the pane, but Dave stood too far away to hear.
She ran to Dave’s front door and peeked out the peephole. All clear. She grasped the doorknob. Her apartment door squeaked open.
Peering into the security window, she watched the redhead step onto the landing. He walked straight across to Dave’s apartment and grabbed the doorknob and turned it. She looked down at the knob twisting in her hand. To her horror the sound of scraping caught her ear. He was picking the lock.
Chapter 11
Deidre darted across the living room to the kitchen and grabbed the land-line phone. The door lock clicked open. She dialed 911.
The redhead walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Deidre dropped the receiver and ran to the patio door. After the lock clicked, she shoved the door open. It barely moved an inch. She stared at the door and tried again. Something blocked it.
The man chuckled.
She quickly bent down, groaning in pain as she pulled the security bar from its resting place behind the door that prevented her escape. For a second, she considered using the aluminum piece of metal on her would-be attacker. Thinking better of the idea, she pulled the door open and screamed instead.
Dave and his friend both turned to look at her waving the bar in her hand. “Help!”
She turned as the man watched her for a moment from the middle of the living room. He slipped his hand under his sports jacket. He was going for a gun.
Deidre dropped the pipe. With no spare time to waste, she hurled herself over the balcony. She slipped to the end of the wrought-iron railing beneath the concrete patio, hanging on with a death grip. Her body dangled precariously from the ledge, the muscles in her arms stretched taut, her knuckles white as she gripped the wrought iron railing. I can hang on here forever, if he doesn’t shoot me first.
“Deidre!” Dave hollered, his voice rife with panic.
She’d hated heights ever since she’d had to complete survival training. The thirty-five-foot rope drop had terrified her as her skin crawled with apprehension like millions of spiders traversed it. She had shimmied across the cable over a lake, then dropped her legs from the line, losing her grip with one of her hands. Quickly grasping the hemp with her fingers, she had stated what was required of her. “Cadet Deidre Roux, 325-66-4812, permission to drop, Drill Sergeant.”
“Permission granted, Cadet,” the drill sergeant had said.
Shots rang out. Deidre clutched the wrought iron railing tighter. Her shoulders and back hurt something fierce, and she couldn’t look down. Heights…she hated heights.
More shots pierced the air.
“Cadet, drop!” the drill sergeant had commanded.
She couldn’t. The cadet ahead of her had fallen from the rope before he was ready. The New Yorker was labeled a non-swimmer, just having completed swimming training right before the water survival exercise. He’d landed hard on his back on the water and knocked the wind out of his lungs. He sank like a man weighted down with the proverbial shoes of cement. Divers in a rowboat nearby immediately dove for him.
Now it was her turn to drop from the rope. And she feared the fall.
“Cadet, drop!” the drill sergeant had hollered.
“Deidre, drop! I’ll catch you,” Dave yelled.
A raspy voice nearly out of breath shouted, “He got away through your kitchen window!”
“Get a ladder!” Dave yelled.
“From?”
“From maintenance, the management…just go!”
Footsteps ran across the asphalt.
“Got him!” the divers shouted as the cadet was pulled from the water. Now it was her turn.
“Cadet, drop!”
As bad as she hurt now, she still figured it could hurt a lot worse when she fell. She loosened her grip on the railing.
“I’ve got you, Deidre. Just let go, and I’ll catch you,” Dave shouted, but his voice pleaded with her rather than demanded now.
“I’m afraid of falling,” she whispered.
“Deidre, drop!”
I can hang on forever. Her fingers loosened more. Then she released.
Dave caught
her and stumbled back into the shrubs. He kissed her cheeks. “Are you all right, Deidre?”
“They’re not going to quit coming, are they?” Though drained of most of her spare energy, she felt her heart still pumping rapidly. She couldn’t still the anxiety that filled her with fear.
“We’re moving you and your brother to a safe house.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. “What?”
“We should have done it long before this.”
He helped her back to her apartment as his friend shouted, “Hey, I got the ladder!”
“You’ll pack what you need, and the cars will be here in a minute to pick us up, Deidre,” Dave said.
She wasn’t thinking clearly at all. Was it the medication, the fright, her pain? “Dave,” she said, “I have work on Monday.”
“You’ve earned a break.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Just pack whatever you need. You’re not coming back here until this whole situation is resolved.”
She rubbed her temple. Nothing was making any sense. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not a reporter?”
“Deidre, we need to leave, now.”
She balked.
He pulled out his badge. “Undercover agent for the Feds.”
Her brow wrinkled in a frown as she folded her arms. “That can be faked, you know.”
“Nights will be cool, days warm so pack appropriately.” He hurried her up to her apartment with his hand grasping her arm. He ensured the place was clear as she stood in the doorway. “All clear.”
Before he reached her, she walked into the room and collapsed on her couch, her temple buzzing with disbelief. He was a Fed? Just doing his job? What in the world was Charlie involved in? Worse, she thought she was falling for a reporter and now she knew none of this meant anything. He was just doing his job. A government con-artist.
“All right, I’ll pack for you. No telling what I’ll forget though,” Dave said, all business.
Her body hurt too much to care. “Just remember my pain medicine. Just don’t leave that out.” She touched her forehead. How could he have lied to her?
“I’m sorry. I’d forgotten how badly you must still feel.”
She’d been feeling better…lots better until she swung from his balcony like a chimpanzee in a tree. Dave’s friend walked in the door, and she turned her head, wishing she hadn’t as soon as the pain registered in her brain.
He nodded to her. “Ricky Santos, Miss Roux, at your service.”
She considered him as he smiled back at her, his skin the color of brown sugar, his eyes dark brown, and hair nearly black. Then her attention switched to the bedroom where drawers opened and closed in her bureau. Worried Dave might concentrate more on her lace undergarments than anything else, she waved to Ricky to assist her. He helped her to stand.
“That’s okay, Dave,” she hollered. “I’ll pack for myself.”
When she walked into the room, she discovered her suitcase filled with her chemises and lacy undergarments, just as she suspected. His ears turned slightly red. “Figured they’d be important to you.” He ducked into her closet. “Anything you want in here in particular?”
“Hey, Dave!” Ricky shouted. “The troops are here.”
“Good. Tell them to pack up the manuscripts, and if you don’t mind, grab my things for me.”
“Will do.”
Deidre walked into the closet with Dave. “I can handle this.” She didn’t need this pretender touching her things.
Either his spicy scent overwhelmed her or it was the medicine. She swooned into his chest.
“Hey, are you going to be all right?” He led her to her bed and helped her to sit. “I can handle this.”
“Packed a lot for women, have you?”
He grinned at her. “All in the job description.”
“You aren’t a reporter.”
He yanked several blouses out of the closet. “How about these?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t like reporters—you said so yourself.”
“Were you really in the military police?”
“Sure.” He pulled out several skirts and slacks.
“Released only a month ago?”
“No, four years ago. I was in for four years.”
“And Bill Hummel?”
“Yep. He and I go way back.”
“He’s an agent?”
“Sure thing.”
“And Marilyn?”
“My partner.”
“What’s this all about, Dave?”
Dave walked out of the closet, and Bill Hummel joined them in the bedroom. “Listen, Bill, I think Deidre’s got enough clothes to last her for a while. You want to pack the rest of this up, grab a raincoat for her, and load it in the SUV?”
“Certainly.” Bill zipped up her bag.
“Okay, now we need to get your things from the bathroom, Deidre—”
“I’ll get them.”
He helped her to stand. “You’re shaking a bit.”
“I think it’s the pain medication.” Or the latest trauma to her back, she couldn’t be certain. Or the realization if the Feds were involved, Charlie and she were in for a lot more trouble.
Dave carried another of her bags into the bathroom, then leaned against the doorframe while she packed everything she needed.
“Hey, Sis!” Charlie shouted from the entryway of her apartment.
She dropped her toothpaste on the floor, and Dave hurried to get it for her. “Charlie.” She turned too suddenly and paid for her action with a twist of pain. She moaned.
“We’re going on a trip!”
“Yes, Charlie. What about that job of yours?” She hated to think he’d be out of one so soon.
“Have a new one all lined up.”
“Oh?”
“Courtesy of the Feds. They want me to teach their agents martial arts techniques.”
“Oh.” Well that wasn’t such a bad deal after all. He loved teaching martial arts more than anything else in the world.
“Well, not right away. Not until after they catch whoever is behind all of these killings.”
“What?”
Dave interrupted. “Uh, Charlie, we need to get you packed for the trip, too.”
“Sure.” Charlie hurried into his room. “Got all of the manuscripts, I see. I’ve read through several of them. Can’t see that any of them would have been important enough—”
“We’ll go over all of them and see if maybe there’s some kind of clue.”
Deidre handed her bag to Dave. She didn’t like being kept in the dark about everything. “What kind of killings?”
“The literary agent and three of his editors,” Charlie blurted out. “The Feds think I’m next.”
A sprinkle of lights on a black velvet cloth appeared before her eyes, and then they disappeared leaving only the blackness.
“Deidre!” Dave shouted.
She heard her name called from far away in a land of mists. A wet cloth moistened her cheeks and forehead. She opened her eyes and frowned at Dave, Charlie, and Bill who all crouched beside her, peering at her with concerned expressions.
“Will she be all right to travel?” Bill asked.
“I’m fine.” She waved her hand at Charlie in annoyance. “Just help me to my feet. I don’t know what came over me.”
Dave shook his head. “I’m sure the car wrecks and the medications you’re on had something to do with it.”
She held her head as her temple throbbed with renewed gusto. A pang of alarm tugged at her heart. “And someone’s out to kill Charlie.”
***
Much later that afternoon, Bill wheeled Deidre into the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport. She rubbed her forehead as she frowned at Dave. “The wheelchair is totally unnecessary, you know.” Still irritated Dave had lied to her, she had difficulty gentling her tone of voice.
“Yes, well, Bill didn’t want to have to carry you if you became indisposed ag
ain.”
“I thought you would have wanted the honor.”
He chuckled. “I’m the boss, this trip. I hold your hand…he gets to do the hard labor.”
Her lips curved up slightly. No matter how mad she could be with him, he never failed to amuse her.
“Okay, so we’ve made it to DFW so far.” He patted her hand. “First leg of our journey. They should let us right through.”
Even so they had to wait for a boy of about thirteen to clear his pockets in front of them when he set off the alarm. He tugged at a condom and held it up. The alarm rang again. “It’s not metal,” he whined.
The security officer explained, “Explosives are made of the same kind of plastic.”
Dave chuckled and squeezed Deidre’s hand when she tsked. “Better to be safe than sorry,” he whispered to her.
The security officer waved them through, but before the group could leave the area, the officer said to another passenger, “Sir, can you show us your weapon isn’t loaded?”
Deidre, Charlie, and the agents watched the passenger pull his hunting rifle out of its bag. With the weapon raised at the console’s window, the man clicked the trigger. The gun discharged, breaking the window. Several passengers at the Delta flight counter fled for cover.
Armed military surrounded the area with M16s pointed at him.
“It’s all right,” the security officer said. “The weapon’s not loaded, any longer. Sir, you can go after we get some information from you.”
Dave motioned for his team to get to their flight pronto.
Deidre looked up at him. “Dave, that is your real name, isn’t it?”
“Most assuredly, from birth on.”
“Well, Dave, what is going on?”
He pushed her wheelchair to the airplane. “From what we can gather, the literary agent received a manuscript that endangered his life. We only assume this of course, since someone murdered him. Then three more of the editors who worked for him were killed. Charlie was the only one innocent of any of the charges preferred against the others.
“We assumed because of this, whoever murdered the others wouldn’t bother with Charlie. We thought that’s what linked them together…the criminal conspiracy. But since Charlie had worked for them—to be on the safe side—we’d provide him protection just in case. Then when we trailed him here, and he set up housekeeping with you, we had to protect you, too.”
