by Debra Webb
Kate’s gaze moved from Dillon’s to the table, then back. She balled her fists in her lap and gauged the distance between her and the gun, between Dillon and the gun. Behind her, Danny and Vinny paced like caged lions. Even if she could get her hands on the gun before Dillon, which was highly unlikely, she would never be able to shoot all three of them before one of them shot her. Kate relaxed her rigid muscles and eased out a ragged breath. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts.
Dillon smiled knowingly. He leaned forward, grabbed Kate’s wrist and jerked her close. “You know,” he whispered harshly, his lips brushing her temple, making her shiver uncontrollably, “I love this stuff.” He pressed her trembling hand to his crotch, his arousal proving his statement.
Kate choked out a shriek and jerked free of his grasp. Dillon laughed at her, his eyes twinkling with the insanity that no doubt drove him. Vinny and Danny teetered like bullies in the schoolyard, backing up their leader with sound effects.
Kate closed her eyes against the sound, and against the image of Dillon, the personification of evil. Ice slid through her veins, immobilizing her body with cold, solid fear. If Raine showed up to rescue her, he would die. If he didn’t, she would die. Kate opened her eyes and stared at the man in front of her. Who was she kidding? She was dead either way.
RAINE HAD KNOWN that Chances would be a dive in every sense of the word—cheap and disreputable. The place was definitely in keeping with Dillon’s taste for the underbelly of life. Raine slid from behind the wheel of the Thunderbird he had “borrowed” and smiled at the one thing that didn’t quite fit: country music. The sound wafted into the dimly lit, quiet parking lot. Neon lights flashed from the front of the building, advertising Budweiser and Miller beer.
Dillon hated country music. In fact, he hated most anything that had its roots below the Mason-Dixon Line. Raine had seen him kill a man simply because his Southern drawl grated on Dillon’s nerves. Sick bastard.
Raine adjusted his jacket and then the all-but-worthless handgun he’d tucked up his right sleeve. He despised .22’s, but finding the weapon—loaded and ready—stashed in the glovebox of the stolen car had been a stroke of luck. Satisfied with his unexpected contingency, he checked his watch: 12:05. Dillon would be pissed. He hated to wait. The move would throw him off balance, make him more likely to make mistakes. Raine needed whatever edge he could find to save Kate and get them both away alive. He checked the position of the .22 automatic once more and headed for the door.
He stepped into the crowded, smoky bar and took a moment to survey his surroundings. The bar extended the length of the room on one side. Only one bartender appeared to be on duty. Two waitresses skirted the tables filling the rest of the place. The crowd consisted of mostly men and no one seemed to pay Raine any mind, with the exception of one table. The one nearest the door. A group of wannabe cowboys looked Raine over with the slow, easy confidence of being on their home turf, then went back to the business of beer and bullshit.
Raine took his time, checking out the place as he crossed to the bar. He ordered a beer and asked about the room in the back. The solemn-faced bartender plopped a cold, long-neck bottle in front of Raine and angled his head toward a door at the far end of the room. Raine paid the man and took a long pull from the bottle as he settled onto a stool. The cold liquid slid down his throat and pooled in his stomach, doing nothing to quench the fire burning inside him. He forced himself to drink the rest despite the tension urging him to act. He had wanted to rush over here and wait for Dillon’s arrival the minute he’d hung up the phone. But he had forced himself to wait. To fill the time, Raine had showered and shaved, then changed into the new clothes he had bought that day. He knew Dillon too well, he would have considered the possibility of an early arrival. Most likely, he had already been at this joint when he’d called.
Raine glanced at the Red Dog clock above the mirror behind the bar. Twelve-ten. Dillon had waited long enough, any longer and he might take his anger out on Kate. Raine slid off the stool and strode to the door, opened it and stepped inside. His gut clenched at the sight of Kate sitting at a table with Dillon standing behind her, caressing her hair. Raine’s jaw tightened. Dillon looked mad as hell, his tall, thin features taut, his eyes as dark as smoke off burning rubber. Raine’s gaze flicked from the pompous twisted bastard back to Kate. She was scared to death. His thoughts went immediately to the bottle of little blue pills in his pocket, but that would have to wait.
The door slammed shut behind Raine. Danny and Vinny stepped up to stand on either side of him.
“You’re late,” Dillon hissed.
Raine lifted one eyebrow in the beginnings of a shrug that didn’t quite make it to his shoulders. “I know.”
“I hate to be kept waiting,” Dillon added, his knuckles going white as he grasped the back of Kate’s chair.
“I know,” Raine intoned.
Vinny jabbed him hard in the gut, but Raine absorbed the blow with nothing more than a soft grunt. He stood statue-still while Danny patted him down and removed the weapon at the small of his back, then held up the Beretta like a trophy.
Vinny sneered at Raine. “You shoulda killed me while you had the chance, Ricky boy. Now I’m gonna watch you die.”
Raine smiled mockingly down at the shorter man. Vinny knew his real name wasn’t Rick, but he kept up the pretense. “I’m saving you for later, Vinny, when it’s just you and me.” Raine instinctively tightened his stomach muscles a split second before the next blow was delivered.
Muttering expletives, Vinny moved back to stand guard at the door. Danny followed suit.
“Kate leaves now.” Raine leveled his gaze on Dillon’s. “That was the deal. I’m here, she goes.” He shifted his gaze to Kate. “The car’s outside, the engine’s running,” he added so she’d know which car he meant. The surprise and momentary disapproval that flitted across her face told him that she understood that he’d stolen another vehicle.
Kate stood. Raine saw the violent tremble that rocked her body. Her brown eyes were huge and liquid. A single, crystalline tear slid down one cheek. Something inside Raine twisted and he felt weak with regret that any of this had happened to her. If he had learned nothing else, he now knew that Kate was in no way connected to Dillon.
“Let’s not be in such a hurry, Raine.” Dillon snaked an arm around Kate’s waist and pulled her against him, knocking over the chair she’d vacated. She gasped, her fingers automatically working to pry loose his restraining arm. “I was rather enjoying Kate’s company.”
Raine tamped down the rage that jolted him. “I’m not in the mood to debate the point. I’m here, so let her go.”
Dillon rubbed his cheek against her hair. Kate whimpered and closed her eyes. Before he could prevent it, Raine’s fists clenched at his sides. Dillon smiled at the reaction and Raine cursed himself for allowing it.
“So this one means something to you?” Dillon scrutinized Kate for a time, then righted the chair and pushed her into it. His gaze moved back to Raine. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her for you.”
Raine moved in Dillon’s direction, ignoring the snap of weapons engaging behind him. “I said, let her go,” he repeated, the sound coming from some foreign, guttural place deep inside him.
Dillon rounded Kate’s chair, waved a hand at his two henchmen then took the final three steps to bring himself face-to-face with Raine. He drew his weapon and aimed it at Raine’s heart, the tip of the silencer creasing his shirt. Kate’s sharp intake of breath broke the quiet that followed.
Raine briefly considered announcing that Dillon was the one who had killed Ballatore’s son, but why bother? Kate wouldn’t know what he was talking about, and the other two in the room would never believe him. Besides, Raine still needed Dillon—at least until he could draw out the mole. He had no choice but to play the hand he’d been dealt. As bad as it sucked, this was it.
“The old man wanted me to bring you in alive.” Dillon shook his head and sighed. �
��But I think I’ll save him the trouble of dealing with you personally. I wouldn’t want to further tax his failing health.” Dillon smirked and pressed the barrel more firmly into Raine’s chest. “Are you prepared to die, Raine?”
Raine flashed an answering smile. “I’m always prepared, amigo.”
Dillon flinched. He hated to be reminded of his heritage. Raine leaned into the weapon. “Why don’t you cut the small talk and just do me? No need to complicate things. I’m here, the weapon’s engaged with the target, why waste time yapping? Just do it,” Raine challenged.
Dillon’s face contorted with rage. “I say when. I set the pace.” His face relaxed into a feigned smile. “And I say, now.” Dillon’s grip tightened on the weapon in anticipation of the recoil.
“There’s just one thing,” Raine began, his words stopping Dillon a heartbeat before his trigger finger applied the slight pressure required to fire the weapon.
“What the hell would that be?” Dillon snapped. Sweat beaded on his forehead, anger blazed in his eyes.
“The money,” Raine offered with a nonchalant shrug. “If you kill me, you’ll never know where I hid the money.”
Irritation flared in Dillon’s angry gaze. “To hell with the money! There will be more where that came from.”
It was during that fleeting moment of transition between anger and irritation, just before the final decision was made, that Raine acted. His left arm darted under Dillon’s right and shoved it upward. A shot hissed through the silencer and lodged in the ceiling. Before either of the other two could assimilate what had happened, Raine had the .22 automatic pressed to Dillon’s temple.
“Hold it right there,” Raine ordered when Vinny would have moved closer. “Everybody just take a breath.” Two beads held steady on Raine. “Kate, move over here behind me.” She quickly obeyed.
“Now.” Raine tightened his choke hold on Dillon’s scrawny neck. “Place your weapons on the table.” Nobody moved. Raine nudged the .22 a little deeper into the thin skin protecting Dillon’s temple. “Now, gentlemen.” Dillon tossed his Ruger on the table. The two men on the other side of the room remained motionless.
“Do it!” Dillon screeched when Raine’s finger snugged around the trigger.
First Vinny, then Danny relented, placing their weapons on the table and backing away.
“And mine,” Raine reminded Vinny.
His insolent gaze fixed on Raine, Vinny slid the Beretta across the table. “Good.” Raine smiled his appreciation, which only earned him a heated glare from both men. “You two, back over here—” he angled his head toward the far side of the room “—on the floor, facedown.”
When the two were prone on the floor, Raine shoved Dillon in their direction with one hand and snatched up his Beretta with the other. He watched Dillon reluctantly slide into place next to his cohorts. “Kate, grab those weapons.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice, Raine noticed when he shot a glance in her direction. To his surprise she snatched up the Ruger, deftly unscrewed the silencer and slid it into her back pocket, then put the weapon on safety and set it aside. Despite the rampant trembling he had observed in her only moments ago, her hands were steady and efficient now. She put each of the other two weapons on safety as well before stowing them in the waistband of her jeans beneath her sweatshirt.
Watching her warily, Raine took the Ruger from her and shoved it into his waistband. Now wasn’t the time to ask how she knew her way around a handgun. Getting the hell out of here was top priority.
“It’s only a matter of time before I catch up to you again,” Dillon said from his position on the floor. “You’re a dead man walking, my friend.”
Raine ushered Kate across the room, keeping his gaze trained on the three men on the floor. “Well,” Raine said as he reached behind him to snag the doorknob, “at least I’m walking.” He turned and propelled Kate into the crowded barroom. He pulled the door closed behind him, leaned toward her and ordered, “Get in the black T-Bird. The engine’s running. I’m right behind you.”
She spared him a panicked glance, but took off without question. Raine knew Dillon would burst through the door any moment. He waded quickly through the crowd, but paused when he got to the door. He moved back to the last table he’d passed and leaned down to speak to the nearest wannabe cowboy.
He had to shout to be heard over the jukebox, which had just boomed back to life. “Hey, buddy, that fag with the ponytail—” Raine glanced up just in time to see Dillon’s anger-twisted mug glaring at him from across the room “—called you and your friends here a bunch of redneck yahoos.”
Raine straightened and backed up the four steps between him and the door. A quick glance over his shoulder before he slipped out revealed Bubba and his five buddies forming an intimidating line across Dillon’s path. Raine smiled. Satisfied that he had a few minutes to put some distance between them, he headed for the T-Bird.
“Are they right behind you?” Kate’s frightened voice met him when he opened the driver’s-side door.
“They’ll be busy for a few minutes.” Raine shoved the car into gear and spun out of the parking lot.
“What are we going to do now?” she demanded, twisting around to peer out the rear window.
“Slide those weapons under my seat.” Raine suppressed the other demand he wanted to make. Now wasn’t the time.
“What?” She shifted her wide-eyed gaze to him.
“Put the Smith & Wesson and the Beretta under my seat,” he said slowly, watching her reaction in his peripheral vision.
“You have the Beretta and the Ruger, the two I have are both Smith & Wessons,” she clarified as she pulled the weapons one at a time from beneath her sweatshirt and slid them under his seat just as he had instructed. The silencer followed.
Raine clenched his jaw and drew in his first deep breath since walking into the hotel room and finding Kate missing. She was safe now and that gave him some sense of relief. But he had seen more than enough to resurrect his suspicions about her identity. And that made him madder than hell—mostly at himself. He took a right onto the unpaved side road that led to the doc’s house. A couple miles down the rutted, muddy passage he took another right. Water and mud from the day’s storm splashed from the deeper ruts. The driveway to the house-cum-clinic was more than a mile long and dark as pitch save for the un-earthly glow of the moon bearing down on them through the barren treetops.
Raine parked a good distance from the house, cut the engine and got out. He skirted the hood, anger and questions pounding in his head, then jerked Kate’s door open and demanded, “Get out.”
“Where are we?” she asked hesitantly, glancing from side to side with mounting uncertainty. Despite the reluctance in her voice, she scrambled out of the car.
Raine slammed the door and glared at her. She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Dillon had dragged her off without her coat. The coat was in the car, but Raine was too pissed off right now to offer it to her.
“What’s wrong? Why are you staring at me that way?” Her eyes were wide with fear, her lips trembled, and Raine hated himself, which only pissed him off all the more. He reached behind him and drew his weapon. Kate gasped and edged back against the T-Bird.
Brutally squashing the guilt that immediately rose, Raine forced her chin up with the cold, steel barrel. The weapon wasn’t aimed at her, but the effect was the same, she trembled and tears welled in those big dark eyes. “Tell me about the weapon I’m holding,” he rasped.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she shuddered the words. A tear slid down her cheek, then another and another. She blinked furiously, but they came anyway. “Why are you doing this?”
Raine clenched his teeth until he had ruthlessly steadied his control. “How did you know that the two nine millimeters you carried out of there were Smith & Wessons?” His tone was fierce and Kate all but crumpled under his glare.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just knew.”
> “You removed that silencer without thought, Kate.” Raine leaned in closer, keeping the weapon between them, his fisted knuckles hard against the slim column of her throat. “As if you’d done it many times before.”
“I…saw Dillon attach it.” She pressed a shaky hand against his chest, a frail attempt at protecting herself. “It was simple. And maybe they mentioned the names of their guns. I just don’t know!” A sob shook her body with such force that it pained him to watch.
With a disgusted exhale, Raine shoved his weapon back into his waistband. He braced his hands against the car on either side of Kate and held her fearful gaze a long moment before he spoke. “Here’s what I know.” He paused for effect. She trembled. “I know that I didn’t make any mistakes, and still Dillon walked right up to my door. How do you suppose he knew where we were, Kate?”
She shook her head and pushed a handful of dark hair behind her ear. “I don’t know,” she insisted. “I didn’t tell him. I’d never seen the man before in my life until he dragged me out of the closet.” She shuddered in a harsh breath. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered too fast, way too fast.
Raine wrenched himself away from her. He muttered a colorful phrase about his birthright. Here the woman might have a heart condition and he was doing his level best to send her into cardiac arrest. Damn him all to hell.
“All right.” He reached out to brush the fresh tears from her cheek and she flinched at his touch. His gut twisted with regret when she trembled beneath that simple caress. Her skin was unbelievably soft. Raine willed away the desire that immediately rose inside him. How could he want her so much? He couldn’t let his guard down around her, that was becoming all too clear, but he wanted her anyway. She drew in another shaky breath and he longed to press his lips to hers. To soothe away the fear. But something about Kate Roberts didn’t add up.
