Next Exit, Pay Toll

by CW Browning

  That was all the encouragement Damon needed. He slid his hand behind her head, his fingers sliding into the warmth of her hair at the base of the braid, and tilted his head slightly. The kiss became demanding and she sighed into him as passion exploded between them. Desire rocked through her in waves and Alina lost herself in the explosion. Her arm found its way around Damon's shoulders and she clung to him for support. In the back of her mind, the intensity of her reaction to him alarmed her, but desire was taking full control over her thoughts. Her heart pounding in her ears, Alina leaned into his solid warmth, allowing the emotion to sweep her along with the tide. It was a few moments before she realized that she was responding without any consideration for anything other than the man in her arms. She couldn't think at all and, with a sudden start, she came to her senses.

  Pulling away, Alina got shakily to her feet, abruptly breaking the spell. Her breathing was ragged and she took a deep breath, trying to calm the blood pounding through her veins. Damon stifled a groan and flopped onto his back. He watched her step over him, bending down to collect their empty bottles, his own breathing ragged and his heart pounding.

  “You're killing me, Viper,” he muttered.

  Her low laugh lingered as she headed back toward the cabin.

  “You'll live,” she shot back over her shoulder.

  Damon twisted his head to watch her walk across the grass toward the house. Her long legs moved her fluidly into the darkness and she disappeared into the night. He sighed, returning his gaze to the sky. The sudden burst of desire had shaken them both, that much was clear. Well, at least he had one question answered.

  The Jersey girl was most definitely still there.

  “Soon,” he promised the night sky quietly. “She can't run forever.”

  Chapter Four

  Alex Ludmere, Vice President of the United States, was on the golf course. He was on the fifth hole and already so far above par that he had hit double digits. He was getting worried. When Alex got worried, he got anxious. And when he got anxious, everything suffered.

  “You're over-compensating,” his companion pointed out after his ball soared past the green.

  “I can see that,” he retorted, slamming his club into the bag that the caddie was holding. “I don't understand why it is so hard to find one woman.” He waved the caddie away and began walking toward the area where his ball had disappeared, his companion falling into step beside him. “She's one woman.”

  “We knew it wouldn't be easy, but she can't hide forever,” the woman said soothingly. “We'll find her soon.”

  “I mean, we found Bin Laden, for Christ's Sake,” Alex muttered.

  “Calm down,” his companion smiled at him. “Every agency is looking for her. She can't contact anyone without us finding out. We just have to be patient.”

  “For how long?” Alex stopped and looked down at her. “It's already been three months. It shouldn't have taken this long. It shouldn't have even come to this. You assured me that this was going to be taken care of three months ago!”

  “It would have been if you hadn't tried to interfere,” she shot back. Alex scowled at her and she sighed. She reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Look, the past is done. So she was lucky. Her luck can't possibly hold out for much longer. Something will force her out into the open.”

  “You'll excuse me if I'm not comfortable with that something being me,” he muttered, turning and continuing to stride along the fairway. “A bullet could already be in my brain before you find out where she is!”

  “You know I'm not going to let that happen.” The woman calmly fell back into step with him, matching him stride for stride. “She isn't as good as everyone says. I found her in South America. The Engineer found her in New Jersey. We'll find her again.”

  “And that's another thing!” Alex stopped again and swung around to face her. “Where is he? He disappeared too! I can't have all these loose ends out there!”

  “I told you, The Engineer is dead,” his companion reminded him.

  “You have no body.”

  “I don't need a body,” she retorted. “There was blood all over that barn.”

  “What if he walked away?” Alex demanded.

  “No way anyone was walking anywhere after that amount of blood loss.” She turned to start walking again and he reluctantly followed suit. “No. It's very safe to say that The Engineer is dead.”

  “Well, you still need to find her,” Alex muttered.

  “I will.” His companion glanced at him and took note of the high color in his cheeks. “I always take care of you,” she said soothingly. “Just leave it all to me. You're worrying needlessly.”

  “Ha!” Alex exclaimed. “Easy for you to say. She saw me in Cairo. She can testify that I was there! If that ever got out....”

  He shook his head and took a deep breath.

  “It won't.” The woman stopped and faced him, taking hold of his arm and forcing him to look at her. “You need to calm down, Alex. You have the banquet tonight and there'll be a lot of press there. You need to get a hold of yourself. Do you have any more of those pills the doctor gave you?”

  “They make me dizzy,” he said. She smiled.

  “They help you calm down,” she retorted. “You're working yourself up into one of your spells. You just do what you do best, and leave the woman to me.”

  “Make sure you take care of it this time,” Alex replied, stopping next to a large sand bunker. His ball was in the center. “Shit.”

  “I will,” his companion assured him. “I'll have better luck with her than you will getting that ball out of there,” she added.

  The parking garage was well-lit, but even the most well-lit garages had their shadows. If they didn't, it was a simple enough task to create them. Viper's bullet had done just that, creating deeper shadows in the corner of the fourth floor of the parking garage than originally present. She blended now with the darkness, a shadow herself, dressed in loose black pants and a lightweight black hoodie. The hood was pulled up securely, covering her head and casting her face into shadows. She wore tight black leather gloves that fit her hands like a second skin and flexible black boots on her feet. The sweltering heat hadn't lifted much when the sun went down, and the air was heavy and humid. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts but she ignored it, her eyes locked patiently on the elevator alcove.

  “Where are you?” Hawk's voice spoke in her ear. “None of the cameras are picking you up.”

  “Surprised?” Viper spoke quietly.

  “Curious,” he retorted. After a few moments of silence, he added, “'I have control of the cameras now.”

  Alina was silent, her eyes never wavering from the alcove. Both the elevator and the stairwell exited from the same place. Regardless of which one her boy took, she would see him. The minutes ticked by slowly and she crossed her arms, leaning back against the cement wall behind her patiently. A slight, humid breeze wafted over the top of the wall, carrying a hint of fresh air into the parking area and providing a welcome break from the heavy smell of tarmac, oil, and stale urine.

  The elevator dinged and Alina tensed. She relaxed back into the shadows when two women in suits emerged, laughing as they stepped off the elevator.

  Parking buddies, Alina thought, watching as they walked through the quiet parking garage quickly, their heels echoing loudly on the worn cement. Their cars were parked a few spaces apart and they called goodnight to each other as they reached them. Viper returned her gaze to the alcove as the cars drove down the exit ramp. Once upon a time, she had been uncomfortable walking through a parking garage at night as well. That was before the military. Before the shadows became her friend. Before her entire body became a weapon.

  Before she learned how to kill.

  The sound of the stairwell door swinging open a few minutes later made Viper straighten up in the shadows again. The door swung shut and the sound echoed out of the alcove, followed by a tall man dressed in a black suit. Alina
exhaled slowly as Michael O'Reilly stepped out of the alcove and into the almost empty parking garage.

  “Bingo,” she breathed.

  “Roger that,” Hawk answered calmly.

  Viper watched silently from the darkness as Michael turned toward where she lurked, heading for the black F150 parked halfway down the aisle. He unbuttoned his jacket, loosening his tie as he went, and Viper caught the glint of his sidearm as he passed the shadows where she was concealed. His laptop bag was slung over his shoulder, and he still moved with the confident, steady stride of a military man, his shoulders squared and his head up.

  Once a Marine, always a Marine, Alina thought, watching him.

  “You're clear,” Hawk told her.

  Viper moved out of the shadows swiftly and silently, coming up behind Michael as he reached his truck. He never heard a thing.

  In one fluid motion, she swept the back of his knees with her leg and wrapped her arm around his neck as his legs buckled. The laptop fell to the ground and she pressed her .45 against the back of his neck, turning him away from the mirror shine of his truck before he could catch a glimpse of her face.

  Michael never stopped moving and Viper expected no less. When his elbow slammed backwards, she was ready. She absorbed the hit to her abdomen with a grunt, thrown back against the side of his truck with the force of the blow. Before he could follow it up with another one, Viper wrapped one leg around him and squeezed, using the truck to support her balance. She tightened her arm around his neck sharply at the same time, forcing him to change tactics. With one arm pinned by her leg, Michael tried to get his free hand under her arm to leverage it off so that he could breathe.

  “I hear you've been looking for me,” she purred in his ear.

  At her words, he instantly stilled. Viper loosened her hold slightly and he gasped for air.

  “Viper?” he choked out.

  Alina gently caressed one ear with the barrel of her gun while she sighed into his other ear.

  “I don't believe we've been properly introduced,” she said softly.

  “Let go of my neck and I'll be happy to oblige,” Michael shot back breathlessly. Viper chuckled softly.

  “I can't help but feel that would be detrimental to my tactical position,” she replied calmly. “You Marines are so unpredictable.”

  “Honey, you haven't seen anything yet,” Michael snarled, eliciting a genuine laugh from her.

  “Promises, promises,” she murmured. She tightened her arm again sharply and moved the barrel of her gun to his temple. “I'll keep this short,” she hissed, “before you run out of air. You're being fed a bunch of fairy tales about bad girls that go bump in the night. Because you're a Marine, and I'm partial to gunnies, I'll give you a word of advice. Pay less attention to me and more to a dead ghost called The Engineer.”

  She loosened her hold slightly so that he could gulp down some air.

  “The Engineer?” he repeated.

  “Yes. Specifically, what he was doing in Jersey three months ago and how he got there,” Viper instructed. She moved her lips against his ear. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered just before hitting him swiftly with the handle of her gun.

  Michael sagged, a dead weight against her. Alina lowered him to the ground gently and lifted his keys out of his pocket. She unlocked the truck and tossed the laptop and his side arm inside. After locking the truck again, she dropped the keys back into his suit pocket.

  A moment later, she had disappeared.

  Stephanie pulled into the car park before the small building at the entrance of the cemetery. As she was getting out of the car, an older, wiry man came out of the building. He was dressed in khaki pants and a plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. When he saw her, he paused at the door.

  “Can I help you, miss?” he called.

  “Yes.” Stephanie slammed her door and walked up to him. “I was hoping you could point me in the right direction of a grave.”

  He nodded, his weathered face breaking into a friendly smile as she joined him at the door. Stephanie smiled back and brushed her hair out of her eyes. He looked like a gargoyle.

  “You just caught me,” he told her, holding the door open for her to step into the small building. She stepped into a room with a single desk and two chairs. “I was just closing up.”

  He walked around her and went behind the desk, seating himself.

  “I'm glad I caught you.” Stephanie sat in one of the chairs.

  The gargoyle nodded and turned the computer on.

  “I close up a little early on Tuesdays,” he told her while he waited for the computer to boot up. “Bingo night at the fire hall,” he added. “I like to get there early so's I get a spot right up front. I don't hear so well as I used to.”

  Stephanie grinned. She could believe it. He didn't look a day under ninety.

  “Well, thank you for coming back in for me,” she said, settling her purse in her lap. “I appreciate it.”

  “Oh, it's no bother for a pretty lady like you,” he replied. “Where you from? Not around here, I reckon.”

  “I'm from New Jersey,” Stephanie answered readily. He nodded sagely.

  “I thought you had to be a Yankee,” he said and Stephanie blinked.

  “You still call us Yankees?” she blurted out. He laughed.

  “We surely do,” he answered. “I'm originally from South Carolina,” he told her, leaning on the desk as if he had all the time in the world. “My daughter made me move up here a few years back. She said she was worried about me, all alone after my Millie passed on. I told her I was perfectly capable of doin' for myself, but she wouldn't hear of it. I told her I would go as far as Virginia, but no further.”

  “You don't like us Yankees, huh?” Stephanie asked with a twinkle.

  He chuckled and waved his hand.

  “I like you guys just fine,” he assured her. “It's all your hustle and bustle I don't like. So my girl, she compromised and moved down to Virginia.”

  “That was nice of her,” Stephanie said.

  “She's a good girl, my Sarah,” he told her, peering at the computer screen. “Well, I think she's just about up,” he said, leaning over the keyboard and pecking at the keys with his forefinger.

  Stephanie watched as he hunt and pecked in his password, peering at the screen after each peck. She bit back a grin and waited patiently in silence, not wanting to distract him. After a few moments, he nodded.

  “There now.” He looked at her. “What's the name we're huntin' for?”

  “Shannon Gleason,” Stephanie told him. He nodded and turned his attention back to the keyboard.

  “I remember her,” he said as he started to hunt and peck again. “Lots of visitors to that plot. She must have been a nice lady.”

  Stephanie's ears perked up.

  “She was,” she told him. “She's had a lot of visitors recently?”

  “She surely has,” he agreed, peering at the screen briefly before turning his attention back to the keyboard. “You would think as many times as I've typed in her name, I would remember where she's resting, but my memory isn't what it used to be, it's surely not.”

  Stephanie leaned forward slightly, looking at the screen.

  “I wonder...do you keep track of people who come to visit?” she asked.

  He continued to hunt and peck, not looking up.

  “We don't keep track of the visitors as a rule,” he answered, “but all visitors are encouraged to sign the log over yonder.” He waved his hand toward the back wall and Stephanie turned to look at where he was motioning. “Most folks do.”

  “Really?”

  Stephanie got up and went over to a table with a thick log book resting on it. It was open and there were a few entries on the page, listing names of visitors and who they were there to visit. She flipped back a page, scanning the names quickly until her eyes fell on Shannon's halfway down the page. Three visitors were in the party, and they were signed in by a woman. Stephanie took out her ph
one and snapped a quick picture of the log entry, glancing behind her to make sure that her new friend was still typing. He was still pecking away, so she flipped back another page. Finding another entry for Shannon, she snapped a picture of that one as well.

  “Here we go.” Stephanie swung around as the caretaker spoke. She dropped her phone back into her purse and smiled. “I'll write it down for you.”

  He tore off a piece of paper from a note pad on the desk and jotted down the numbers and letters of Shannon's final address.

  “Thank you so much.” Stephanie walked back to the desk. “I really do appreciate it.”

  “Don't you mind it.” He handed her the scrap of paper with a hand shaking slightly from age and then reached over to turn off the computer. “Now, it's easy enough to get to,” he told her, standing up and walking back around the desk. He walked with her to the door and opened it for her.

  “Now, what you want to do is go down that main road there.” He pointed to the road as they stepped outside into the late afternoon sun. “Take that down past the second hill and when it splits, you want to stay to the left. When you pass the mausoleum on the right, you want to stop the car. Her plot is a few rows down.”

  Stephanie replaced her sunglasses on her nose and turned to him, holding out her hand.

  “Thank you again,” she said with a smile. “You've been so helpful.”

  “Well, it's always nice to pass the time with a beautiful, young woman,” he told her with a grin and a wink, making Stephanie laugh.

  “Why, thank you!” She shook his hand and turned to go back to her car. “Good luck at Bingo!”

  She got into her car and backed out, turning the car around. With a last smile and wave, she pulled out of the little parking lot and turned onto the main road that wound its way through the cemetery. Located in Northern Virginia, it was a huge, sprawling cemetery that had been there for over two hundred years, according to the sign at the entrance. It was beautifully maintained, speaking volumes for the wealth of the patrons who graced its grounds. Shannon had mentioned in college that her family was an old one from Virginia, but Stephanie had never realized just what that meant until she read the obituary. Shannon had come from a very old and wealthy southern family.