Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  “You’re making a big deal out of something small. Let it go, Kit.”

  “The way I should have let it go years ago. Good idea.” She stared at the road and shook her head. “Where do I drop you?”

  He was fascinated by the cool sheen of her skin and the emotion that filled her eyes. It was like watching the det-cord burn on an explosive fuse. You knew that you should get away fast, but some morbid fascination made you want to stay, waiting for the moment when everything blew.

  He remembered now that she had always had a temper, and her brother’s nonstop practical jokes hadn’t helped much over the years. “You’re not dropping me anywhere.”

  “Think again.” She accelerated into traffic, then cut left to pass a slow-moving dairy truck. “You can get off at the next corner. There’s a hotel where you can find a taxi and they’re open until nine.”

  The dogs were pressed up against Kit’s seat. They almost seemed to be following the details of the conversation, Wolfe thought.

  “Kit, look—”

  “No, you look. I’m tired of whatever game you’re playing. You appear in my house with a string of flimsy excuses and my dogs don’t bark once, which, trust me, never happens. Then you watch the road like you’re expecting something bad from any direction. Inside that store you react—well, faster than I’ve ever seen a person move, and when I say something about it, you glare at me. You insult me with your stories, Wolfe. No, you insult us both.”

  He didn’t speak. He couldn’t say anything that she hadn’t already said and he didn’t want to lie to her, but he had no choice.

  “And for the record, I know why you’re here.” Her expression was stony. “And the answer is no.”

  “You know?”

  “Of course I do. The last time Trace called, he made it very clear that he wanted me to sell the ranch. He said it was too much responsibility for me, and I should move into Santa Fe.”

  Trace had said that? If so, he was a fool. Anyone could see that the ranch was where Kit belonged.

  On the other hand, Trace might not have looked too hard. People usually saw what they wanted to see.

  She didn’t wait for him to answer, plunging on. “He told me he wasn’t coming back soon and I couldn’t count on him for help.” She reached around to Baby, who was hovering between the seats again. “As if I didn’t already know that. Of course Trace isn’t coming back. His heart was never out there at the ranch.” Her voice fell. “But that doesn’t mean he has the right to order me to sell. So I know why you’re here. Trace sent you to convince me to put the ranch up for sale. But you can go right back and tell him it’s not happening.”

  “Trace hasn’t said a word to me about what you should or shouldn’t do. If he had, I’d have told him he was crazy. Any idiot can see this is what you’re meant to do and the ranch is where you’re meant to do it.”

  She shot him a stricken look. “We don’t owe you money, do we? I mean—has Trace borrowed from you?”

  Wolfe shook his head.

  “That’s a relief. A few times before…” Her fingers opened and closed on the wheel, and he sensed how it hurt her to bring up the whole issue of her finances. She and Trace were similar in that way, both stubborn and proud to a fault.

  The silence was broken by the shrill ring of her cell phone. She grabbed it quickly. “Hello?”

  Wolfe turned slightly so he could listen in. The caller appeared to be her friend Miki again.

  “We just left the pet store. No, forget it.” Kit’s voice tightened. “We’ll discuss that later.” She turned her head away from him, frowning. “I need to go, Miki. I’m driving.” There was another pause. “What kind of car? Where?” The frown between her eyes grew. “How long has it been there?” She darted a quick glance in Wolfe’s direction. “You’d better lock your doors, then call the police.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hold on, Miki.” She stared at the dark line of distant mountains, their ridges veiled by clouds. “There’s some kind of van parked two houses away from her. It’s been there all day, according to her neighbor, but no one on the street’s having any work done.”

  “Tell her to get the license plate,” Wolfe said. “Is there anyone inside?” He pulled out his cell phone, dialing Izzy while Kit shot his question back to her friend.

  “There’s no one in the front that you can see. Okay, Miki, give me the plate number.” She rattled the numbers back to Wolfe, then pressed the phone against her chest. “Have you gotten us in some kind of trouble?”

  “Pull in at the next turn. There’s a restaurant on the right.”

  Her face was tense as she drove into the expansive entrance of a French restaurant with a marble driveway and about fifty valet parking attendants.

  “Give me a minute.” Wolfe opened his door, dialing Izzy. As he got out, he waved off an eager attendant. “Izzy? Yeah, we’ve got problems. There’s a van parked over at the friend’s house.” He repeated the plate number quietly. “No sign of a driver and the neighbors say no work is being done there.”

  He heard the click of a keyboard.

  “Not to worry. He’s one of ours. I put him there this morning, just in case.”

  “Move him and shift cars. He’s been made. It seems to be a tight-knit community and people notice stuff like this. Miki certainly did.”

  “I’m on it.”

  The line went dead.

  Wolfe realized Kit was staring at him. She wasn’t going to buy anything but the truth, which he was under orders not to tell her. But Cruz was somewhere close, already in pursuit. Wolfe’s instincts told him that they hadn’t been all that smart, only lucky so far. One more reason he wasn’t going to stay too long in one place.

  Thanks to his glare, the valet staff was keeping a safe distance. He rubbed his neck, then walked around to Kit’s side.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Look, I’ll tell you what I can. Things are a little complicated right now.”

  “Complicated how?” She looked down as his pager began to vibrate in his front pocket. “What’s that?”

  Wolfe checked the LED and looked north, studying the road. Izzy had signaled him to get moving. They would meet as soon as Kit reached Miki’s house. “We need to go, Kit.”

  “Go where? Aren’t you going to answer any of my questions?”

  “I’d prefer if you let me drive.”

  “You don’t think I can handle this car? I’ve been driving Jeeps on the ranch since I was ten.”

  “It’s not a question of competence, but training. I’ve been trained in close pursuit and evasion.”

  She didn’t move, staring at him in the blue twilight. “Are you telling me that we may be pursued?”

  He swept a glance across the parking lot and checked the busy highway nearby. “I’m telling you that I’d prefer to drive.”

  She sat stiffly, her eyes wary. “What was in that page you just got?”

  “Later.”

  “You’re on some kind of mission, aren’t you? Tell me the truth, Wolfe.”

  “Later. We need to go now, Kit.”

  After a deep breath she slid out of the car reluctantly and went around to the passenger side. Within three minutes they were back in the heavy flow of Santa Fe’s weekend traffic.

  Neither one spoke.

  He headed north, away from the commercial strip. As the traffic thinned, he took a sharp left, watching to see if any cars followed.

  None did.

  Trees lined the road above steep irrigation canals to right and left. Waist-high reeds rose like spikes against the fading light.

  Wolfe heard the drone of a big motor, coming fast. When he looked back, headlights cut through the darkness. It was possible that the lights behind them belonged to a rancher coming back from Albuquerque with a month’s feed supply, nothing more.

  Like hell it was. How many ranchers drove a late-model Hummer?

  Without drawing his eyes from the rearview mirror, he
dug the cell phone out of his front pocket and punched a button. “We’re on Highway 180, and we just got company. Black Hummer with Missouri plates, number Bravo Foxtrot 6214.” He lowered his voice. “I saw it back at the pet store, and I’m pretty sure it was parked one block over at the vet’s clinic today, too.”

  Kit started to ask a question, then stopped, her mouth thinning to a tight line.

  Wolfe rang off, calculating their options as he glanced into the rearview mirror. “Do these irrigation canals continue on both sides of us?”

  “For another two miles, at least.” Her voice was stiff and angry. “After that it’s pretty deserted.”

  “Get the dogs into the front seat.” He put one hand on her knee and squeezed briefly. “After I pull around that next hill, I’m going to stop. You and the dogs need to drop down beside the canal and stay out of sight.” He shrugged off his dark jacket. “Put this on. No noise until I come back—no matter what you hear or see.”

  The lights were closer. She pulled on Wolfe’s jacket quickly and called the dogs one by one into the front, squeezed against her feet and lap.

  “Give me your sweater,” he ordered quietly. When she handed it over, Wolfe pulled it around his shoulders, so that the red wool would be visible from the side window. “Do you have some kind of sun hat in here?”

  He took the battered circle of straw that she found behind her seat and tugged the hat down over his eyes. “You can’t let them see you, Kit. Not you, not the dogs.”

  “We can manage.” She gave him a tight smile. “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just keep yourself and the dogs out of sight. No noise. No movement.” He took the curve fast, the Jeep fishtailing over gravel. As they climbed, the road lay behind them, a narrow ribbon against the gathering darkness. The Hummer was steadily closing the distance.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “Now.” He slammed on the brakes as soon as they cleared the hill, out of sight of the Hummer. Kit wrenched open her door and jumped out with the dogs right behind her, tails wagging as if it was another training game.

  “Heel,” Kit ordered, skidding down the muddy bank toward the dark reeds and the faint silver gleam of water.

  As soon as Wolfe saw that she was safe, he floored the Jeep and roared off.

  ALL SHE COULD SEE was a black screen of reeds.

  Shivering in the sudden cold, Kit pulled the dogs around her. They huddled close, sinking down into the muddy water.

  Abruptly, car lights cut through the darkness. A black Hummer raced past, and she had a blurred glimpse of two figures inside.

  Cold and wet, Baby’s nose nudged her neck. Sundance pressed against her knees, while Butch lay against her lap. She had a sudden impression of stars blazing fiercely against the sapphire sky as her eyes adapted to the dark. Even in her fear, she felt the rugged beauty of the night in this place of isolation.

  A rifle cracked. Kit realized the distant shattering sound meant someone had just blown out her Jeep’s back window.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WOLFE HIT THE ACCELERATOR as he came out of the turn. After a last look to be certain that Kit and the dogs were out of sight, he put his full attention on the approaching Hummer. The Jeep was more maneuverable, but the Hummer had size and indestructibility in its favor.

  He had to buy time until Izzy showed up. He considered his options as headlights cut through the back windshield. A Hummer was good. He’d driven a whole lot of them over the years, so he also happened to know they were worthless in narrow spaces like a twisting wash. Or a narrow irrigation ditch.

  Up to the right he saw a broad adobe gate that marked the entrance to a ranch.

  He jerked the wheel sharply. As he headed under the gate, rifle fire cracked behind him, and the rear windshield exploded, chips of glass shooting through the inside of the Jeep like popcorn.

  But flying glass chips were a minor problem. The Hummer was gaining on him.

  As the road turned, he cut the Jeep’s lights altogether. Instantly the gravel road in front of him was swallowed up by darkness.

  He heard the Hummer swerve, then keep right on coming.

  Wolfe had more or less expected that.

  The thin silver ribbon of the canal glittered to his left. He judged his speed, compensated for the slope, jerked open his door and jumped. The Jeep kept moving along the narrow ditch, with one tire resting on the bank. He figured acceleration would carry it another sixty feet before it slowed.

  Prone in the wet grass, he slid his firearm out of his holster under his arm and waited. As the Hummer thundered past, he had a quick glimpse of a man in the driver’s seat and the shadow of another man inside. Taking both of them out would have been easy, but he needed at least one alive to interrogate.

  The Jeep bumped over a pile of broken bricks and came to a halt, with the Hummer’s lights blazing through the shattered back window. The passenger’s door opened slowly, and Wolfe saw one of the men raise a rifle with a scope.

  It wouldn’t take them long to realize the Jeep was empty. Then they’d backtrack and come hunting.

  But Wolfe had other plans.

  He considered a quick, focused image disruption, but if Cruz was nearby, the energy pattern would pull him right to Wolfe. You couldn’t fool another Foxfire team member—especially one as powerful as Cruz had become.

  Crawling silently through the reeds and down into the water, he crossed the ditch, emerging on the far side of the Hummer. The dark metal body was outfitted for field operations, and the back window was removed, allowing him a good view of the driver, who appeared to be talking quietly on a cell phone. Still hidden, Wolfe worked his way toward the second man, who carried his rifle level as he approached the empty Jeep.

  The reeds shook in the canal, and the closest attacker spun fast, tracking the sound. Three high-power cartridges slammed into the water in a tight line. As the man scanned for a response, Wolfe came up behind him from out of the grass. Because he wanted the man alive, he didn’t risk close-quarters gunfire. One kick drove the man to his knees. Within seconds the target was facedown in the mud, his hands locked in plastic tactical restraints, a gag in his mouth. When he began to struggle, Wolfe knocked him out with a single blow to the head.

  A powerful flashlight beam cut through the darkness. “Alpha, report.”

  Wolfe went prone in the mud.

  Light cut past the spot where he had been standing.

  “Alpha, are you there?”

  Up the bank big boots squished along the mud. Wolfe heard the same whispered question as the man from the Hummer circled to the side of the Jeep, his weapon pointed through the muddy window while static burst from his walkie-talkie.

  “Alpha, do you copy? Do you have the woman and the dogs?” The man flashed a light into the Jeep. The powerful beam struck broken glass and muddy water.

  The man turned, laying down a pattern of fire from his automatic as he ran back toward the Hummer, and Wolfe followed on the other side of the canal, low and silent. Certain that Cruz was nowhere nearby, he changed tactics.

  Now he hit his target with an image of a dozen snarling wolves, leaping straight across the top of the canal.

  Gunfire chattered sharply. Wolfe cut his way around the back of the Hummer, grabbed his cursing, confused target, and tossed him against the side of the black vehicle.

  Grunting, the two fought, slipping in the mud. Wolfe knocked a handgun out of the man’s grip, then felt his attacker’s weight shift.

  The man toppled sideways, and Wolfe realized he was too late. One quick self-inflicted knife stroke had brought blood pumping in dark waves from the man’s ravaged neck.

  Who in the hell were these guys? Wolfe didn’t bother searching for a pulse. It was too late for that. At least he still had one assailant unconscious but alive and fit for interrogating. He also had the dead man’s cell phone for Izzy to examine.

  Grimly, he checked inside the Hummer, but the vehicle was em
pty. No maps, no computers, no documents of any sort. No sign of who had sent them or what they’d come for.

  FUBAR.

  Staring into the darkness, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Izzy.

  HUDDLED ON THE MUDDY BANK with her dogs, Kit shivered in the darkness. Everything had happened too fast. She couldn’t process, caught in a blur of fear and shock.

  She was soaked from slipping into the canal twice. Her feet slid through the mud and her hip ground against a rough concrete girder at the edge of the ditch, pain lancing down into her joint.

  She closed her eyes, certain she was going to black out.

  Her hands tightened around Butch’s body, and the big puppy wiggled closer, licking her face. When she finally struggled back onto dry ground, she saw that the Hummer had stopped near her Jeep.

  A man left the car. Then the driver emerged, a silent, lethal silhouette with an automatic weapon.

  A heartbeat later, something moved in the reeds. The dogs tensed at the muffled thud of men fighting. But it was harder and harder for her to concentrate on the sounds around her with her right hip burning as if someone was twisting the socket. Staring up at the night sky, soaked and frozen, she tried to ignore the pain and focus.

  The stars jumped back and forth in jerky lines above her. Dimly she heard the sigh of the wind along the tall reeds beside the canal.

  The fighting suddenly stopped. Baby’s head nudged her neck as a wave of dizziness hit her.

  There was no sign of Wolfe in the darkness. She listened for sounds of fighting or footsteps while her fingers tightened in Baby’s warm fur, but the cold settled around her. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open.

  Pain left her light-headed, her thoughts jumbled.

  Why had a car followed them into the darkness? Why had a van been parked near Miki’s house all day, and how was Wolfe involved?

  But the cold was worse. Shivering, she closed her eyes and laid her head down on Baby’s neck, slipping into the darkness.