With a quick check to the mirrors, Matt rammed the transmission into reverse and floored the accelerator. The car shot backward along the street.
Lili yelped in surprise and grabbed on to the seat, her head pressed against the upholstery.
Keeping one eye on his mirrors and one eye on the car in front of him, closing fast, Matt swung the steering wheel hard to the left, careening around a corner onto another residential street lined on either side with cars and trucks. He was distantly aware of Lili's muffled gasps, but kept his focus on the mirrors and the narrow street he was speeding through in reverse. Streetlights flashed as he sped past them, sudden and intense, like strobes.
This late, the streets were quiet, but if another car turned onto this street he was screwed.
"Hold on," he warned again, and turned sharply, just as bright headlights arced toward him.
He braked, tires squealing, and backed onto yet another street. He floored the accelerator for several blocks. Eyes on the rearview mirror, he looked for the next intersection.
Spotting it, he aimed for the wider street space of the intersection and shoved back on the emergency brake. As the rear wheels locked, he swung the steering wheel hard, spinning the car with sickening speed in a near one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. Lili cried out as her head banged against the dashboard.
Hands working fast on the wheel, Matt steadied the car, released the emergency brake, and accelerated forward down the street at twice the speed limit and with the lights off.
And he could still glimpse those bright headlights, close on his ass.
Flying along the warren of small streets and driveways, he kept turning, braking, speeding, and turning again.
He glanced quickly at Lili, huddled silently in her sparkling finery, her face white. Matt looked away, and as he did so, spied a construction-sized dumpster sitting in the driveway of a house under renovation. He braked hard and turned, the car jostling from side to side as he jumped the sidewalk, and then he drove behind the dumpster, parked, and killed the engine.
"What are you doing?" Lili whispered.
"Waiting. I think I lost them at the last turn." Not far away, he heard the sound of squealing tires and furious honking – and over that, the wail of sirens. Many sirens.
"The police, thank God," Lili murmured. "We can go back and—"
"We're not going back," Matt interrupted, turning to her. Their eyes locked and held, and the terror in her eyes left him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "No talking."
They sat in tense, uneasy silence as the minutes crawled by, and when Matt felt certain it was safe, he put the car in gear and quietly rolled back out onto the street. Then he switched on the lights, and drove away.
Just another guy out for a late Saturday night drive with his girl.
He glanced at Lili. "You okay?"
"I think so." She swallowed, gaze searching his, then added in a shaky voice, "You never even lost your hat."
Matt brought his hand up by reflex, and touched the brim. Sure enough, the damn fedora was still on his head.
"That was some pretty fancy driving," she said after several seconds had passed. "I suppose you learned that in bodyguard school, too."
She was trying for humor, but it fell flat.
"Evasive Driving 101." Regretting what he'd just put her through, he added, as if it would help, "That was what we call a J-turn."
"A J-turn," she repeated, then let out a sigh. "I thought I was going to throw up."
"Sorry." What else could he say?
"It's all right. You did what you had to."
Silence fell over the car as he drove, checking street signs and getting his bearings – and trying not to think of his team. He knew he had to stay focused on the here and now, because Lili wasn't out of danger yet.
"What happened back there, Matt?"
"They took out Dal at the last possible minute so they wouldn't tip us off, and then dropped Manny." In a voice tight with a sudden, cold fury, he added, "A sniper, dammit … I didn't see that one coming at all."
With the immediate danger past, he spared a thought for his arm. He could feel the sting where the bullet had grazed him, and the warm, sticky wetness of blood. But it was nothing compared to Manny's injuries. And God knew what had happened to Dal…
"But why? I don't understand."
"I don't know," he said, keeping his voice even as he tried to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his ears. "But somebody wants you, and they were willing to kill me and my team to get you."
Matt looked at her, huddled against the seat, still wide-eyed. Why, indeed? There had to be a reason. What was he missing? The attack at the auditorium, the attempt to get into her room, the shots tonight that weren't aimed at her, but at her protection. What did they all have in common?
Think, think, dammit.
He glanced at her again, and as they passed a street-light, her dress sparkled in the darkness, and her shoes—
Oh, Christ, her shoes!
It clicked, just like that – Matt could've sworn he even heard the sound of it in his head. It had to be those shoes; nothing else made sense. He didn't know how, or why, but he'd bet his balls they were the key to what was going on. She'd had them at the auditorium, in her room, and on her feet tonight.
He was furious with himself for not seeing it earlier. They'd been there all along, right under his nose. He'd even briefly wondered if they might've been the motive, but he'd dismissed it as too far-fetched.
Mind racing, he stared out ahead as the headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating quiet townhouses and condos and expensive cars.
Knowing the cops would be looking for the car he'd "borrowed," he stayed to the side streets, keeping an eye out for patrol cruisers. He had to ditch it, but he couldn't go back for his own car. These bastards probably knew who he was by now, but even if no one was watching his house, his plates were too easily traced.
Like it or not, he needed help. Reluctantly, he reached inside his jacket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed.
"Who are you calling?" Lili asked, watching him.
"Police dispatch. I have a friend with the Chicago PD." Within a few minutes, they'd patched him through and he heard her voice, crisp, professional and a little guarded: "Hawkins? Are you still there?"
"Yeah, Espinosa, I'm here, and I'm calling in that favor you owe me." Monica Espinosa would know what was up, no need for chitchat or lengthy explanations. "I need a car, and I need some cash, and I need both fast."
Silence. "Dammit, they're looking all over for you and the Kavanaugh woman. Are you okay?"
"She's okay. I took one in the arm." He glanced at Lili, and her eyes widened as she looked at his arm, where the blood had darkened the fabric of his coat. She hadn't known he'd been shot. More for Lili's sake than Monica's, he added, "It's not bad. Just a scratch."
He didn't ask what he wanted to know: My team … how bad are they?
"You have a good reason for what you're doing, right?"
"I do."
A heavy sigh sounded on the other end of the phone. "Where?"
"A little restaurant in Chinatown … you know the one I'm talking about."
Another brief silence. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."
The line disconnected with a click, and Matt slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Keep that dark wrap over your dress."
Lili pulled it more tightly around her. "We're going to Chinatown?"
Matt nodded.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
He didn't look away from the street. "Once I figure it all out, you'll be the first to know."
He avoided the main thoroughfares as he drove, stopping at a couple of out-of-the-way ATM machines to withdraw as much money as possible, and finally turned into a seedier part of Chinatown. Storefront signs were lettered in Chinese, with haphazard English here and there. From Yuppie Town to Chinatown, in just thirty minutes.
He pulled up behind a small re
staurant housed in a squat, square building, and spotted the unmarked car and squad car at once. He turned off the engine and lights. Three people were leaning against the unmarked car, a woman in a suit and two men in uniform, one tall and one short. As the trio walked toward them, Lili asked, "Which one is your friend?"
"The woman." Matt opened the door, and glanced at Lili. "Stay put for a minute or two, please."
The tall, dark-haired woman came to a stop before him, arms folded across her chest. Monica Espinosa – as pretty as ever, if a little hard-looking around the eyes and mouth.
"Hello, Matt. Long time no see."
"Monica," he said, a shade wary.
"I thought you'd given up carjacking."
"Please make sure the car gets back to its owner," he said, holding back the spurt of anger she was always so good at rousing. He looked over her shoulder at the uniforms. "Who're they?"
"Guys I can trust to keep their mouths shut. The tall one's Mark Ward, my niece's husband. The other is a cousin. Johnny Degas."
Matt nodded a greeting at the uniforms, then asked, "You brought a car?"
"I guess you can call it a car." She motioned behind her, and he leaned sideways to glimpse a big Olds Royale, badly rusted out, but with brand spanking new wheels and hubcaps.
"It's a damn boat," Matt muttered.
"It was the best I could do on short notice," Monica said dryly. "It's Ricky's. It may be a piece of shit to you, but it's his pride and joy."
"Ricky's old enough to drive already?" Matt stared at her, surprised – and a little guilty, too. He'd meant to stay in touch better than he had.
"It's been that long," she said, her tone going cool. "You care to tell me what the hell is going on?"
"In a minute. First, I need to know about my team. Are they—" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
Her face softened. "Manny took a hit to his knee and hand. The knee's busted up pretty bad, and he lost a lot of blood, but he's okay."
"What about my driver? Farrell?"
Her gaze shifted briefly, but enough to send a cold dread lancing through his body.
"He's not so good," Monica said quietly. "I'm sorry. The best news I can give you is that he was still breathing when the EMTs arrived on the scene. They found him sitting in the parked car. The driver's side window was rolled down a couple inches. The best guess is that he was talking to somebody who slipped a gun barrel in the opening and shot him in the head."
"Jesus," Matt whispered. He raised a hand, as if doing so could hold back the ugly truth, then lowered it again. "Oh, Jesus."
Turning away, he rested his fists against the roof of the car and closed his eyes.
Shot him in the head…
"He has a wife," he muttered, eyes still closed. Rage swept over him, white-hot in its intensity. "Her name is Jodie. Somebody should—"
"They already got that information from Manny. There's an officer on the way to her now."
The rage built, pushing outward.
"They got married three months ago." Matt straightened, opening his eyes. Lili was out of the car, watching him over the roof. He hadn't even heard her door open. "I should've told him to keep the window shut. My fault. I should've—"
His control snapped, and he slammed his fists down on the car roof, savagely glad for the pain.
"I'll kill them … I'll fucking kill every one of them," he shouted, not caring who could hear. Distantly, he was aware of moving his arm back, above the car window. "I'm going to take them down!"
A sudden, sharp pain radiated upward along his arm. Matt looked down, realizing he'd punched the window. Breathing hard, he stared at the blood beading across his scraped knuckles.
The short cop, Degas, grabbed his arm. "Hey, take it easy."
Matt pulled free, dropping Degas with a sharp elbow jab to the belly.
"Dammit, Matt!"
Monica grabbed his uninjured arm as the tall cop moved in, getting a hold on Matt's other arm and twisting it painfully behind his back. Matt bucked and twisted, not caring if he snapped the bone – and suddenly Lili was standing in front of him, cupping his face in her hands, her blue eyes locked on his.
Everything around him faded; nothing else registered but the intensity of her eyes, the paleness of her face. Her fear.
Fear of him.
"Stop this," she said quietly, unblinking. Her voice reached deep inside him, soothing and calming. Hooking sanity, and dragging it back to the surface. "You're not going to kill anybody. No more talk like that. Look at me, Matt!"
He stared into her eyes, as his rage slowly ebbed. Sensations and sounds returned, and he heard the harsh sound of his breathing. His hand hurt.
God, but it hurt…
"I want the bastards dead, Lili," he whispered, his voice ragged, and something hot stung the back of his eyes.
Her hands, so slender, so soft and warm, closed over his jaw with amazing strength. "Killing them won't change what happened, or help Manny and Dal." Her eyes gleamed with a sudden sheen of tears. "Stay with me, Matt … stay with me."
"I'd never leave you now, Lil."
"I know." She still hadn't broken eye contact – as if she were afraid that by doing so, she'd lose him. "But that's not what I meant."
Slowly her meaning sank in, and as it did, the last of the rage vanished as suddenly as it had come.
Shame washed over him for his loss of control, his useless anger, his stupid talk of killing. Rage, threats, violence – that was a way of life he'd put behind him a long, long time ago, and it chilled him how quickly and easily he'd fallen back on it.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Taking her hands in his, he lowered them from his face. He squeezed her hands in a silent gesture of gratitude he hoped she'd understand.
Then he looked around, seeing Monica's grim expression, and how both Degas and Ward had their hands on their gun belts in a defensive stance.
Before he could offer any apology, headlights flashed down the narrow back street. Another patrol car; slowing as the driver peered out, sensing trouble. The car stopped.
"Shit," Monica said in disgust. "Ward, get rid of them. Tell them to move on, that we've got everything under control."
As the tall cop trotted off to shoo away the patrol car, Monica turned back to Matt and Lili. Her gaze briefly touched on Lili, and a small frown settled between her brows. "I'm Detective Monica Espinosa. Homicide. Pleased to meet you."
Lili appeared a little taken aback, but managed a smile and shook Monica's hand. "Lili Kavanaugh. Shoe designer. Thanks for your help."
"You're welcome." Monica looked Lili over with frank curiosity. "I never met a shoe designer before."
"Well, I never met a homicide cop before." Lili blew out a shaky breath. "It's been a hell of a night."
The patrol car slowly drove away, and Monica turned again to Matt. "Every cop in the city is looking for you two, and I don't think those guys in the squad are going to keep quiet for long. You'd better go."
Matt nodded, and glanced at Lili. "Wait in the car for a second. I need to talk to Monica alone."
Lili merely nodded, and went back to the car. Her silent trust brought him back to his purpose, sharpened his concentration. He had work to do; there'd be time later for grief.
"Something tells me your interest in the lady is more than a little personal," Monica said, watching him carefully.
Matt shrugged, unwilling to discuss it, but not denying it, either. Monica knew him too well.
After a moment, Monica tightened her lips. "So what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to take her into hiding until you catch these guys. I don't want anybody knowing where I am. Not even you."
"I don't like that."
"Too bad. I'm not risking her life to keep the Chicago PD happy," Matt said bluntly. "Secrets have a way of leaking out in a police department. I know it. You know it."
"You're both witnesses to a crime. We need to talk to you about that."
"He's fine. Unlike you, he's trained to take cover when the shooting starts. He's not a bullet catcher." Her gaze flicked to his blood-darkened sleeve. "You need a doctor?"
"No." Matt held on to his temper with an effort. "Look, going into hiding is the only way to keep her safe. That was a professional hit, and you know what we're up against. It's personal with me now, Monica. Nobody gets to her unless it's through me."
"You'll call? Keep me updated?" Monica demanded, a shade suspicious.
"I swear it. You know I always keep my word."
"Are you armed?" she asked after a moment. When he gave a short nod, she glared. "I figured you were when I heard about Manny. Luckily for him, his gun seems to have disappeared."
Despite the tension vibrating through him, Matt smiled faintly. "I wonder how that happened."
"It helps if you're related to half the cops in Chicago. They'll look after him." Manny was Monica's cousin, and had introduced her to Matt years ago. "Manny may be hurt, but I swear I'm gonna kick his ass for this." She paused, then asked, "Does your client have any idea what you're doing?"
Matt shook his head.
"So she doesn't know I could bust you for carrying concealed."
"I don't give a shit," he retorted.
"You should. It's the law."
"I feel that law doesn't apply to my situation right now."
Monica's eyes narrowed. "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that excuse, I'd be a rich woman."
"The bad guys aren't playing by your rules, either. They put a fucking bullet through the brain of my twenty-five-year-old driver, and if I have to break every law in the book to keep Lili safe, I'll do it."
"Same old Matt," Monica said, her quiet voice threaded with bitterness. Or maybe it was disappointment – he didn't care to look too closely. "One of these days, you're going to cross a line that can't be uncrossed. I just pray I'm not there to have to see it, or to pick up the pieces."
And same old Monica; some things never changed.
"Are you going to help me or not?" Matt didn't look away from her dark, searching gaze, and finally Monica sighed in resignation.
HER BODYGUARD Page 13
