Flight Risk

by Kim Baldwin

  “One more thing. The SUV I took is now in Florence, Colorado. A place called Denton Park. I want you to get that information to the Task Force, but in some roundabout way if you can.”

  “Florence. Denton Park. You got it. Anything else?”

  “No. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Frequently, I trust. Good luck, Alexi.”

  The second call Alexi made was to an old contact she hadn’t talked to in many months. Ray Hill was a small time forger who had been caught up in a major counterfeiting sting. He’d testified against his partners in order to avoid prosecution, and Alexi had guarded him during the trial. They had become unlikely friends.

  Hill had relocated to Milwaukee after his associates were put away—close enough to Chicago to still do business there, but not close enough to run into anyone who might hold a grudge—and he had changed his specialty from money to documents. Alexi hoped he was still doing business, because he was fast and meticulous, and never asked questions.

  It took five rings for him to answer, and his voice was groggy from sleep. They exchanged pleasantries for several seconds, then she told him what she wanted.

  “This is a rush job, my friend.”

  “Not a problem,” Ray said. “Driver’s licenses, passports, credit cards. It’ll only take me a couple of hours once I get photos.”

  “You will have to take those yourself. We will be in Milwaukee in a day or two. In the interim, there is another favor I would like to ask.”

  “Whatever you need, you know that.”

  Once Ray was briefed, she made her final call—collect—to her attorney in Greece. She instructed him to wire one-hundred-thousand in cash to Ray as soon as the banks opened. It would pay for the forgeries and leave her with plenty left over to hide them away for a while. The money was to come from one of her personal accounts, and not the multi-million-dollar philanthropic foundation she administered, but it was still an insignificant amount to her.

  Money had never been her motivation for joining the U.S. Marshals. Alexi came from a family of wealth, a Greek shipping dynasty going back several generations. She had been raised in privilege and schooled in the best European boarding schools and American Ivy League universities. It was expected she would run the Nikolos Philanthropic Trust when the time came.

  And she did her duty, taking up the reins of responsibility and fulfilling her familial obligations. But she knew the trust was her father’s moral compensation for what else their money had paid for. The politician’s entertainment, the policeman’s silence, the judge’s leniency. She had her own way of atoning for the past that had shaped her birthright.

  Alexi returned to the Prizm balancing grocery sacks full of provisions with a tray containing two large coffees. She’d made an effort to find all the sugary and chocolate items Blayne had requested. Her charge was showing signs of cooperation at last, and Alexi wanted to reward her, but she knew she could take nothing for granted. Blayne was still apt to bolt at any time.

  She wasn’t used to having to convince a witness to accept her protection. But she was confident she was up to the challenge. I just have to make it much more desirable for her to stay with me than to strike out on her own.

  Blayne saw her coming and this time, instead of shouting at her, she got out to help, then settled back into the front passenger seat to examine the purchases. On top of the first were the Twinkies she’d requested, carefully placed so they wouldn’t get crushed. Beneath them, a variety of other junk foods. Cupcakes, cookies, chips, nuts, and pretzels. And a very impressive assortment of chocolate candy bars.

  “Nice.” She plucked out a package of Twinkies and a Mars bar, and set the rest in the back seat.

  Alexi handed one of the coffees over and Blayne took a long sip then opened the second sack. It held maps, sunglasses, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. Dental floss, tissues, lip balm, shampoo and conditioner, tampons, deodorant, lotion. A box of pre-moistened towelettes. A first aid kit. Flashlight and batteries.

  “Did I overlook something you might need right away?” Alexi asked, reaching past Blayne to extract the maps. “Allergy medicine, anything like that?”

  “No. Looks like you got all the essentials.” Blayne set the bag in the back with the food, then took another sip of coffee while she studied Alexi. “Sure you don’t want me to drive?”

  “I’m certain.” Alexi unfolded a map of Kansas. “We will go a few more hours, and then stop at a motel. Get a shower and a decent meal.”

  “You’re spending my money rather fast. Can’t have much left.”

  Alexi looked up from her map. “It only has to last until tomorrow.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “We pick up money and new IDs in Milwaukee.”

  “Milwaukee?” Blayne frowned. “Is that as close as we’re going to get to Chicago?”

  “Yes. We are going to divert through Rockford.” Alexi started up the car and got back on Interstate 70, continuing east.

  Rockford, Blayne mused. That might be my chance to get away. They’d be just 90 miles west of Chicago. Easiest for her if she could take the Prizm and leave Alexi behind. She’d have to look for the right opportunity. Or, maybe just any opportunity.

  “You need to pick a new name,” Alexi said. “Elizabeth Weaver is known. Any ideas? Nothing that can be used to trace you. No family or friend names.”

  “I have to change both first and last again?”

  “Yes. Blayne is too unusual to keep.”

  Blayne was quiet for several minutes. Not an easy task, to pick a name she could adopt and feel comfortable answering to. It had taken her awhile to come up with Elizabeth Weaver, and now she had to start all over again.

  I’ll keep with something Celtic, she decided. If she had to give up the name she was born with, at least she could still respect her heritage. There were many good, sturdy Irish surnames that appealed to her. O’Leery, or perhaps Callahan, or Murphy. Yes, I like Murphy. The first name was harder. It had to fit, had to really suit her, and most names that she thought of off the top of her head just didn’t. She certainly wasn’t a Mary or Wendy. She wanted something a bit more unusual, like Blayne was. After a moment, it came to her. Fiona. Fiona Murphy. That’s not bad. “Fiona Murphy. How’s that?”

  “That will be fine.”

  Blayne opened her Twinkies and polished off the first one in three big bites. “You have to limit how much of this stuff you give me,” she said before tackling the second sweet cylinder of spongy cake. “I’ve always tended to overload on junk food when I’m stressed. I gained twenty-five pounds during my last year of college and had a hell of a time getting it back off.”

  “You don’t look as though you have ever had a weight problem.” Alexi couldn’t suppress a grin at the dollop of cream poised on Blayne’s upper lip, like a small white moustache.

  “What?” Blayne’s forehead furrowed.

  Alexi reached over and rubbed her thumb lightly over Blayne’s lip, scooping up the cream. She did it really without thinking, and then, as she turned her attention back to the road, she stuck her thumb in her mouth to lick off the sticky spill.

  Watching, Blayne felt her stomach do a little flip-flip. It was a totally innocent gesture, she was certain of that. But for some reason it struck her as entirely sensual. Alexi underwent a transformation in her eyes, at that moment.

  For the last several hours, despite some lingering reservations, Blayne had been seeing Alexi as her intrepid protector. The woman certainly had been acting the part. Determined. Strong. Brave. Unflappable. Totally in control. And despite her doubts, and the fact that she hated giving up control, Blayne had to admit she was impressed. She felt, at last, that she was in capable hands. For the time being anyway.

  During that first eye contact between them, just before the bomb went off—she’d known that she found Alexi damn attractive. And she had thought, for a moment, that the interest was mutual. But once she’d found out Alexi was only doing her job, she’d managed to
put the woman in proper perspective and not think of her that way. Alexi had made it easier with her calm, cool and detached demeanor.

  And now she has to do that one damn sexy gesture, and I can’t stop staring at her. There was enough light from the dashboard to pick out the curve of Alexi’s lips, the strong jawline. Yup. One nice looking woman, that’s for sure. But Blayne had no doubt the attraction was one-sided. Alexi had done nothing to indicate that she was even gay, much less that she had any interest in her.

  How could anybody be interested in me the way I look now, anyway? She glanced down at her oversized clothes and frowned. She needed to make some changes, and soon. First off, I’m getting some new clothes. And some hair coloring. I can look different without looking freakish.

  Blayne opened another pack of Twinkies. “Alexi Nikolos, WITSEC Inspector. Greek, obviously. That’s about all I know about you. I could trust you easier if I knew some more about you.”

  Alexi glanced over at her. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Mmm. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-nine.” Alexi dug into the bag of snacks and pulled out a granola bar.

  “How long have you been with WITSEC?”

  “Fourteen years.”

  “How did a Greek girl end up as a U.S. Marshal?”

  “Went to school here and stayed.”

  “Dangerous line of work.”

  “I find it rewarding.”

  She certainly doesn’t volunteer a lot. Blayne was the curious type, used to asking questions when she met someone and used to them answering in much more detail. Most people liked to talk about themselves, but evidently not Alexi. She was polite and accommodating, but not terribly forthcoming.

  “Hobbies?” Blayne persisted. “How do you like to spend your free time?”

  Alexi smiled at the question and Blayne wondered what had popped into her head. She doesn’t smile very often. Not that there had been anything much for either of them to smile about. And even now it was a just a maddening glimpse of one, a momentary upturn at the corners of her mouth, here and gone.

  And Blayne was somehow certain her eventual answer to the question had nothing whatsoever to do with why she had smiled.

  “I don’t really have any hobbies. How about you?”

  Turn the question around and get the attention off you. Okay, I’ll play along. We’ve got a few hundred miles to go. “Mmm. Well, I’m a fiend on a jet ski. And not bad on a snowboard.”

  “Perhaps that familiarity with adrenalin rushes helped you today,” Alexi said. “All in all, you have been managing pretty well throughout your ordeal. Not giving in to panic. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “I still can’t believe that plane kept flying.” Blayne closed her eyes and the image of the gaping hole in the fuselage flashed in her mind. Impossible we survived that. Impossible.

  “We were very fortunate,” Alexi said. “I can only recall a couple of occasions where an aircraft has managed to land with a big hole in it.”

  “I don’t think I can get on another plane any time soon.” Blayne stared out the passenger window into the darkness beyond, her gaze unfocused.

  “I hope that won’t be necessary,” Alexi said. “I will do my best to avoid it.”

  Blayne glanced back at her. “Can you get on a plane right now?”

  “If I had to, to keep you safe, most certainly.” That trace of a smile returned, once again only briefly. “But I must admit I would rather not. Not any time soon.”

  Blayne was pleased at the admission, for it was the first small crack in Alexi’s perfectly confident exterior. It made her more human, somehow.

  “I suggest you try to sleep, if you can,” Alexi said. “I would like to make a couple hundred more miles at least before we stop.”

  As though her body heard the suggestion and embraced it, Blayne yawned an enormous yawn. “I won’t argue.” She wiggled through the narrow gap between the front seats, brushing up against Alexi as she did so, and plopped down onto the bench seat in the back. “Wake me if you want me to drive, all right? I’m happy to, any time.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The next thing that Blayne knew they were stopping again, this time in front of a Days Inn motel. It was still dark outside. She sat up and glanced at her watch. Four-thirty. “Where are we?”

  “Salina, Kansas.” As soon as she had shut off the engine, Alexi stretched her arms and yawned. “Sun will be up before long, but I need a few hours rest, and I know you can use it too.” She looked in the rear-view mirror at Blayne, barely visible in the light reflected from the motel sign they were parked under. “Please tell me I can trust you.”

  “I am far too tired to run.” At the moment.

  Chapter Ten

  It was nine a.m. when Alexi awoke to the sound of water running and found her left wrist handcuffed to the sturdy metal headboard.

  She was a light sleeper, and she had surreptitiously tucked her handcuffs beneath her pillow, but Blayne had managed to find and secure them without waking her. Pretty deftly done. Perhaps I have underestimated you. She had to admire Blayne’s pluck and abilities.

  And the phone that had been on the nightstand beside her bed was gone. Alexi supposed she should have seen it coming, but she had convinced herself that Blayne was so exhausted she would save her next escape bid for a time when she had some energy. They’d both crashed on the double beds the moment they’d walked in the door and fallen asleep fully clothed, minus only their coats and footwear.

  Alexi’s coat was hung over the back of a chair, and her boots were placed neatly side-by-side against the nightstand, toes facing the bed. Blayne’s clothes, strewn on the floor the last time Alexi saw them, were gone.

  The water shut off and a few minutes later Blayne appeared in the bathroom doorway. She had her jacket and Doc Martens on, and the keys to the Prizm in one hand. “Now you get a chance to see what that feels like.” She tilted her head toward the handcuffs, smiling mischievously. “Sorry to have to do this, really I am. But I told you I was going to go it alone once we got a safe distance away.”

  Blayne felt a vague sense of disappointment that Alexi appeared totally nonplussed by the turn of events. “I’ll call the office and tell them to come check on you, when I get a few miles down the road.”

  “I understand you feel powerless right now, and wish to regain some control,” Alexi said calmly. “But you do not want to do this.”

  “I have to take what opportunities I can. I’m sure you’d do the same thing.”

  “ I believe I am more practiced at considering all the contingencies.” With her free hand, Alexi reached between the mattress and box spring and pulled out a familiar looking envelope. “I dare say you will need this if you plan to get very far.”

  Blayne’s eyes widened and she patted the pocket where her Fiji fund had been. “Damn you! You took it while I slept!” She fumbled for her wallet, which she had found in Alexi’s coat, and opened it. It was empty. “Fuck!”

  Alexi shrugged and shoved the envelope of money into the pocket of her trousers. “Insurance.”

  “That’s mine. I earned it. Every penny. Three years of saving for a South Seas vacation.”

  “You will be reimbursed. I will see to it personally. No matter what you do.”

  Blayne hesitated then started angrily toward her as if to take the money back, but Alexi stiffened in readiness, and Blayne paused.

  “Come on,” Alexi coaxed her. “You know you can’t go on the run with a few dollars and some Twinkies.”

  Blayne’s aggravation flashed in the gray-green depths of her eyes. But something else was present, too.

  Glimpsing her uncertainty, Alexi changed her tone to one of caring. “Please, Blayne. I just want to keep you safe. Stop this foolishness.”

  Blayne considered her options. Even if she is handcuffed, with all that training to be a Marshal… She knew better than to underestimate Alexi. “I don’t think so. Money or no money, at leas
t I have the car. Make hay while the sun shines, and all of that…” She started to go, but paused at the door. God damn it all. “That is my money. I earned and saved every dime!”

  “I told you, you will be reimbursed,” Alexi said. “Now come unlock these handcuffs.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” Blayne put her hand on the doorknob. “ Are you sure you won’t reconsider and toss me some cash? You claim to be concerned about my welfare. Don’t you hate to think of me stuck somewhere with no money, no food, no gas?”

  “I cannot let you leave alone, Blayne,” Alexi said. “Please do not force me to create a scene that compromises our safety.”

  “Won’t do you a bit of good to holler,” Blayne said smugly. “There are hardly any cars in the lot, and none nearby. I think all the rooms around us are empty.”

  “Miss Keller, please. ” Alexi’s patience was wearing thin, and it was evident both in her tone and in her unwavering glare. “You have to stop making these impulsive, rash decisions. You need to think about what you are doing.”

  “Okay, that’s it. Time to go. I think you’ve given me the ‘you’re just a stupid kid’ speech more than enough.” I hope there’s some fucking gas in the car. She cracked the door and glanced outside. There was no one in sight.

  She stepped over the threshold, and glanced back at Alexi. She felt that sudden lurch in her stomach again. Under other circumstances, seeing a striking-looking woman like that, handcuffed to a bed…well, it certainly had other possibilities. “I’ll call when I settle somewhere. Thanks for …” Blayne trailed off in disbelief as Alexi went from relaxed nonchalance to a blur of efficient motion.

  Alexi reached into her right boot and withdrew her Sig-Sauer P229, which carried a magazine of 12 rounds. It was the service pistol of the U.S. Federal Air Marshals—easily concealed because of its size—and Alexi favored it when she needed a boot gun. In the time it took her disobedient charge to say three words, Alexi drew the gun, aimed, and fired, splitting the handcuffs in two.

  Blayne flinched at the noise, and before she knew it, Alexi had snatched up her boots and coat and was barreling toward her at full speed. Her face a grim mask, she snatched the keys, grabbed Blayne by the elbow, and propelled her toward the Prizm. She yanked open the front passenger door.