I'LL REMEMBER YOU

by Barbara Ankrum

  "How did they explain it then?"

  "It was their theory that he'd killed himself because he couldn't live with the shame of what he'd done, or put his wife through it. The IA investigation concluded he was on the take in a drug scam. He was working narcotics, so it was relatively easy to set him up. And when his wife was out of town one weekend, it was a simple matter to make it look like suicide. A turned over chair. A scrawled note. Which takes us back to where I came in."

  "Go on," Tess said, watching the intensity in his face harden in the moonlight.

  Jack scraped his fingers against his skull, shoving his hair back. "After I found the floppy, I called Jule and told her to call me back from a nearby pay phone in case her phone had been bugged. When she did, I told her to get the hell out of town. She was to stay in the location we decided on, and if she didn't hear from me in two weeks, she was to go and retrieve the copy of the floppy I'd left in a safe place back in Virginia, and give it to my friend Seth Tanner. Naturally, she argued. Tried to talk me out of doing it alone."

  "Hmm. Sounds vaguely familiar."

  Jack smiled. "It didn't matter. She couldn't have helped me."

  "How long has it been?" she asked.

  "Twelve days," he said. "I would've had this whole thing wrapped up if they hadn't found out who I was."

  "So you came to L.A. and what? Did some investigating on your own?"

  "I knew no one knew me here. I'd missed the funeral. No one out here had ever met me. So I decided to do some snooping around. I knew the minor players – Saldovar, Detectives Lyle MacAvoy and Eddie Rodriguez."

  Tess sat up. "Wait. The two at the hospital who wanted you dead – their names were Bruener and Rivera."

  "The ID they flashed at you was fake, even though MacAvoy and Rodriguez were the genuine article. The real Bruener and Rivera work narcotics in the Westside, and as far as I can tell, have no knowledge of this operation. MacAvoy and Rodriguez use those badges sparingly and only in situations where they themselves shouldn't be seen. Until Joe, no one had caught them, and their alibis had been airtight. Witnesses put them twenty miles away from any crime."

  "Which explains why Bruener and Rivera had no record of answering any calls at the hospital that night."

  "That's right."

  Tess fell back against the pillow, staring at the dark ceiling. "So MacAvoy and Rodriguez were involved in what? Drugs?"

  "Money. Lots of money. Drugs was just a means to that goal. They used Saldovar, once they caught on to his chop-shop operation and discovered he was smuggling laundered money from a Mexican crime family from California into Mexico in exchange for huge shipments of heroin, which the family would, in turn, resell here. Saldovar, seeing his opportunity to skim his share of the operation, used MacAvoy and Rodriguez to sneak shipments past customs, and they would take their cut. It amounted to millions. But they weren't the only ones reaping the benefits of Saldovar's disloyalty. Joe discovered that there was someone higher up that the two detectives were answering to. Someone who not only wanted the money, but whose career hinged on turning off the flow of heroin into Southern California."

  "But they were shipping heroin into the country."

  "Exactly. Which made timely drug busts a more exacting science. So while one hand was raking in the money, the other was slapping the wrist of the drug cartels. At least, it was the appearance of that. In truth, it's bigger than anyone knew. It was a cushy arrangement protected by none other than a small contingent of boys in blue."

  "Who was this man?" she asked.

  "I don't know. I never found out." Jack rolled toward her and propped his head on his hand. "The day I was shot, I had set up a preliminary look-see meeting with Saldovar at a café in Santa Monica, to discuss the terms of a considerable drug buy I was in the market to make. I'd sprinkled a few familiar names around, and some rather seedy credentials. Saldovar was biting. I'd learned that a ship called the Benedictus was coming into San Pedro on the twenty-fifth."

  "August twenty-fifth?"

  He nodded.

  She sat up. "That's today, Jack. The twenty-fifth is today."

  Jack cursed softly.

  "What's going to happen tonight?"

  He ground his teeth together, staring straight up at the ceiling. "It may have fallen apart after what happened to Saldovar."

  "What happened?"

  "That day when I met him? I knew he was discontent with his relationship with the detectives and that they'd been putting pressure on him to step up the operation. I figured if I could win my way into Saldovar's confidence, he could give me the name of the man on top.

  "It was my bad luck that his south-of-the-border compatriots chose that day to off him for skimming money from them. MacAvoy and Rodriguez, who had already seen my photograph in naval archives, caught sight of me there and put two and two together. They muscled me into a car with a little encouragement from a snub-nosed .38 upside my head."

  "And they took you up to the canyon?"

  He nodded with a sigh. "They'd already decided I had the floppy, and did their best to beat its location out of me. They forgot they were dealing with someone who'd been trained to resist that particular brand of persuasion and others they'd never dreamed of. I knew all I had to do was bide my time until that hothead, Rodriguez, who was waving his gun around like an American flag on the Fourth of July, did something seriously stupid. It didn't take long.

  "I was on the ground feigning unconsciousness and Rodriguez was arguing with MacAvoy about whether he should kill me, and about the whereabouts of the lost floppy. Rodriguez walked close to me, pointing the gun at my head. What happened next is a little fuzzy, but I remember grabbing his leg and yanking him down. Then I rolled to my feet, with MacAvoy still trying to wrestle his gun from his holster. My only chance was to go over the edge, and I headed for it. But Rodriguez recovered the gun and shot me as I turned to slide down the cliff." He rubbed his temple with two fingers. "I don't really remember anything after that. Until you found me."

  Tess shivered and slipped her arms around him, pulling him close. The thought that these two men were still out there, hunting him, sent a chill throughout her being. "Where is the floppy now?"

  "Somewhere safe."

  "We have to call Gil." She could feel Jack tense even as the words came out.

  "No."

  "Why not? He can help us. I trust him with my life, Jack. He's known about you all week. He hasn't sent the troops in here after you. I asked him not to. He knows the situation better than anyone."

  "Did you tell him where we were, Tess?" Jack asked pointedly.

  "No. But he knows. He guessed."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Jack, he knows that this whole thing stinks. And he knows there are dirty cops involved. He's on our side." She took his hand in hers. "You have to trust somebody sometime."

  "I trust you."

  "But you won't let me help you."

  "Gil doesn't know who's at the top any more than I do. Are you willing to set Gil up as the next victim? Because that's what you'd be doing."

  She swallowed hard. "Gil's careful. Let him help you. You can't do this alone."

  Jack turned his head away from her, looking at the pale edges of dawn that had leaked into the sky. "I'm not going to need a partner. Not for what I've got in mind. But if I do, I'll call him. Deal?"

  It wasn't what she wanted, not by half, but she knew she'd have to settle for the crumbs he'd thrown her. He was as fiercely independent as any man she'd ever known, but probably ten times as capable. He wouldn't be caught off guard a second time with them, she thought. This time, he would go in armed with a plan. She would do what she had to do, just as he would, she decided, skimming her hands along the warm contours of his taut abdomen.

  "Then let's not waste what time we have left," she told him, trailing her fingers downward until she met with the evidence that his thinking was running along similar lines. He inhaled sharply as she touched him there. "Make love to me, Ja
ck. I want to feel you inside me again."

  Jack slid his hand up to caress her breast in wordless consent, then dropped his mouth onto hers in a slow, deep kiss that said everything he couldn't. Slowly, they stoked the fires that had banked in the cool, dark hours of the morning. He loved the feel of her against him, flesh to flesh, the small perfection of her body as it fit snugly against his.

  And as he tasted the sweetness of her skin and felt it quiver deliciously at his touch, he tried not to think about his life without her. He pushed that thought from his mind, knowing that even if he survived the next day or so, what had happened here with her had been like a miracle. Something out of time and place that couldn't be repeated.

  His life was hard by necessity, dictated by forces beyond his control. It was all he knew and he was damned good at it. But he could never again ask a woman to share it. And Tess – who'd dedicated herself to saving lives, not taking them – needed a man who would come home for dinner and hold her every night like this, safe in his arms.

  But for a few more hours she was his, and he wasn't a man to squander such a gift. As he tortured her with his mouth, leaving damp trails along her shivering ski, he felt her fingernails against his back, urging him on. She squirmed against him, and he pulled her roughly beneath him and nudged her long, sexy legs apart with his thighs. "Ah, Tess, you make me crazy," he murmured against the hollow at the base of her throat.

  "Oh, Jack!" She sighed against his ear, fueling the thundering roar there as he slid into her.

  They moved in an ancient rhythm, a desperate, hungry fusion of wills that tried to hold at bay the inevitability of the future. And when, at last, that furnacelike heat had been exhausted, and they'd fallen into each other's arms, spent and sated, Jack held her as if the morning would never come, and he wasn't about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  * * *

  When she woke the next time, it was with a startled gasp that had her shoving herself straight up in bed, wondering if she'd been dreaming. Early morning light spilled through the window and one glance at the empty bed beside her answered her questions.

  Jack was gone.

  The sleep cleared from her brain in an instant. Okay, she told herself. Stay calm. He's probably just gone to make coffee. But she heard nothing in the outer rooms. No sound at all.

  She looked at the empty spot on the floor where he'd dumped his clothes last night as they'd moved their lovemaking into the bedroom, and she tried to remain calm.

  Throwing the covers aside, she got up and pulled on her own clothes. Barefoot, she padded out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit hallway that led past the bathroom. She saw no sign of Jack, and her first instinct was to check if he'd taken her car.

  Had he called Dan Kelso and told him to watch her? Jack had never been specific about exactly how he intended to protect her. She got mad all over again. Damn him for being chickenhearted enough to sneak out in the early hours of the morning after loving her the way he had! And damn her for still wanting him.

  She hadn't moved two steps into the living room when someone slapped a hand over her mouth from behind and dragged her back hard against the wall.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  «^»

  Every survival instinct kicked past Tess's shock, and she pawed wildly at the hands over her mouth as strong arms dragged her down toward the floor.

  "Quiet, Doc!" a voice whispered urgently in her ear. "It's—" he grunted as her elbow connected with his ribs "—me!"

  He cinched her against him, holding her as his words sank in.

  She gasped. Jack?

  He moved slightly so she could see him. The fierce look he sent her was meant to silence her as he swung the gun he was holding into her line of vision.

  "What the hell are you—" She mumbled unintelligibly against the palm he'd flattened against her mouth, until Jack glanced pointedly at the door. Tess followed his glance.

  And stopped breathing.

  The shadow of a man moved past the drawn window shade toward the kitchen door.

  Jack removed his hand gingerly and Tess whispered, I "Who is it?"

  He shook his head and signaled for her to be quiet and get down behind the sofa. His expression brooked no argument. Terrified, she watched him steal across the living room in a low crouch and disappear through the kitchen doorway.

  Tess huddled beside the sofa, listening to the sound of footsteps on the porch and dismissing the notion that whoever it was could be someone they knew. Dan Kelso wouldn't be sneaking around her porch at seven in the morning, nor would anyone else she knew. No, whoever was outside meant to break in, she decided, pulling a heavy candlestick off the end table and removing the candle.

  But how had they found them? No one knew where they were except Gil. No one could have possibly figured out that they'd come here unless—

  The metallic rasp of a lock being jimmied came from the kitchen. Almost simultaneously, Tess's attention was pulled to a window on the other side of the house, and the deck off the lake, as a second man, dressed entirely in black, jiggled the lock on the French doors.

  Oh, no! Tess's jaw went slack as she watched the metal handle move up and down, and she scooted farther into the shadow of the sofa. Her hands tightened around the candlestick and she mouthed Jack's name.

  * * *

  In the kitchen, Jack stood flattened against the wall near the door, his gun poised near his cheek, watching the lock slide back. It surprised him that they'd taken such a direct approach. He'd expected more from them. The door edged open, pushed by the man's glove-covered hand.

  Wait, Jack counseled himself. Wait.

  He sized up his opponent the instant he cleared the door. Six foot one and a good fifty pounds heavier than Jack, he wore dark clothing, including a baseball cap that covered his balding head and partially obstructed his peripheral vision enough for Jack to get the drop on him.

  "Freeze," he ordered, placing the barrel of the gun firmly behind the man's ear.

  The intruder swore under his breath and obeyed, with his hands raised in the air.

  "That's right," Jack said through gritted teeth. "Give me your gun." He reached out and snatched the silencer-clad semiautomatic from the man's hand and slid it across the floor to the other side of the kitchen.

  "On the floor!" he growled. "Now!"

  "Hey, don't shoot—"

  "Do it!" he ordered.

  The man dropped down heavily on one knee, but Jack had enough experience in hand-to-hand combat to recognize the coiled readiness waiting for an opportunity to unfurl. Jack shoved the man down the rest of the way with a well-placed foot in the back. The intruder grunted as he flattened against the floor. Holding the pistol with both hands, Jack aimed it at the dark, straight hair just behind his ear.

  "Don't think I won't do it," he warned, adrenaline pumping through his blood.

  "Hey—" The man held his palms above the floor. "Easy—"

  Jack pressed the gun harder against his skull. "Who sent you?"

  The man, whom Jack didn't recognize, began to sweat. "You don't really expect me to—"

  He moved the gun under the man's chi. "I'm afraid I do." From the other room, he heard Tess's voice.

  "Jack?"

  "I'm okay, Tess," he called, not taking his eyes off his prisoner. "Stay where you are." Turning his attention back to the man, he said, "Where I come from, we don't think twice about ridding the world of little pissants like you. So if you'd rather not see your brains splattered all over this nice kitchen floor, you'll tell me who—"

  "Jack?" There was a note of urgency in her voice this time that made him look up.

  The sound of shattering glass coincided with Tess screaming his name one last time. Almost at the same instant, the man on the floor roiled sideways, shoving Jack's gun out of his hand and throwing him off balance into the kitchen island beside him. Jack swore foully, simultaneously realizing that he had made a calculated error by taking his eyes of
f his opponent and that a second man had just entered the fray – and was after Tess.

  There was no time to think. Only react. Jack flung himself at the man, who was still getting to his feet, and pummeled him with a fist across the cheek. Pain sizzled up his arm as flesh met bone, and Jack heard a hiss of pain, but the man staggered to his feet and whirled on him in a football tackle, low and around the knees. They went down, sprawling across the kitchen floor with a loud thud, then crashed into a bank of cupboards. Jack's shoulder took the brunt of his impact and he grunted in pain. Two solid punches landed against Jack's ribs. He gasped for air as the man took advantage, rolling him onto his back. He took two more punches to the face before wrestling the bastard off him. The man's head connected with the floor with a hard crack. Jack heard Tess scream as he looked wildly for the gun he'd kicked away.

  Spotting it, he crawled off the man and dove for it, but an instant later felt his opponent's weight land on him with crushing accuracy. The man fought dirty, like a street fighter. Jack shoved an elbow into his ribs and rolled out from under him. The other man fell close to the gun and started crawling toward it. Jack kicked it out of his reach and drove another well-placed blow into his groin.

  The man in black crumpled in half, gasping for air. Jack's hand closed around the grip of the gun. He swung the butt hard against the folded man's cheek with a sickening sound, then spun around, heading for the other room.

  "Jack!" Tess was swinging helplessly against the man who was dragging her out the open French doors. Her captor grinned at Jack as he pressed a gun against her throat.

  Jack didn't even contemplate what he did next. He swung the semiautomatic up and popped off a silent round. Surprise blossomed on the man's face as a small dark hole bloomed red above his temple. Then his eyes roiled back in his head and he dropped to the floor.