Twilight Warrior

by Aimée Thurlo

  Nobody was there.

  “He’s running!” Travis said, heading out into the parking lot, Laura and Crusher at his heels. “Where’d he go?” he yelled, coming to a stop.

  Pistols up, Travis and Laura circled back-to-back as they surveyed the area, trying to locate their assailant.

  Crusher sniffed the ground, searching for the suspect’s scent, then ran to the six-foot wall at the far end of the lot. He jumped, trying to reach the top of the wall, and barked in frustration when he failed.

  Travis raced over and scrambled onto the wall for a look. About fifty feet away, Laura’s assailant was climbing into a van. The vehicle started up, then disappeared down the alley.

  Laura arrived a few seconds later. “Did you see him?”

  Travis jumped down off the wall and holstered his pistol. Several people were standing at the entrance of the hotel watching them.

  “White van, no license plate,” Travis clipped. “Maybe a Chevy. He’s escaped—for now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  An ATL—attempt to locate—was broadcast countywide, and officers quickly responded. Area streets were searched, but the man in the white van who’d appeared out of nowhere had disappeared into the same.

  Fortunately, the only damage caused by the attacker’s gunshot was a ricochet off the windshield of the sedan parked next to Laura’s loaner. The round had ended up flattened against a utility pole. A Three Rivers officer was discussing the situation with the owner, a salesman from out of state.

  After speaking to the other officers on the scene, Travis came back to where Laura was waiting with Crusher. He noticed her rubbing her cheek then flexing her fingers. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, but he’s definitely not your regular back-alley brawler. If he hadn’t been a little out of practice he might have really clocked me,” she said.

  “To me it looked like krav maga, the Israeli military system of hand-to-hand. I’ve seen it taught in a few stateside martial-arts schools. The navy SEALs include it in their training because it’s swift and effective.”

  “What gets me is that I really think he was just having fun, not trying to inflict any real damage,” she said quietly. “The thought of roughing me up probably gave him a rush. Control freaks feed on things like that.”

  “He must have been disappointed when you countered most of his moves,” he answered.

  “We really have to figure out how he keeps finding us,” she said. “Did any part of that news report mention where I was staying?”

  “I’m going to find out,” he said. “Go get your things. I’ll wait here and meet the officers responding to the call.”

  Her travel often required frequent changes of plan, so she usually unpacked only what was needed for the moment. It took her just a few minutes to put the essentials back into her bag and only a few more to meet Travis, who’d remained by his SUV.

  “A cruiser is patrolling the area and the officers here will continue to process the scene,” he said as he loaded her travel bag into the back of his unit. Crusher was already inside, lying down on the seat. “I doubt the guy who jumped you left anything behind, but we may get lucky. Unfortunately, there’s no camera coverage of that area of the lot.”

  “Did you get anything on that TV reporter and her story?” she asked, standing beside him as he closed the door.

  “She made no mention of where you were staying,” he said.

  Laura looked at the yellow crime-scene tape that surrounded her loaner and the car next to it. “So where does that leave us? Do you think he followed us here from the clinic?”

  “That’s one explanation. But I was keeping watch, and I’m very good at spotting a tail.”

  “I was watching our back, too,” she admitted. “There was a lot of traffic but I never saw any one particular van consistently behind us. Of course there are lots of white vans on the road. They don’t exactly stick out.”

  “We must have missed him. That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Travis said through clenched teeth. “He couldn’t have found you otherwise.”

  “There’s got to be another explanation. We’re both good at what we do. Maybe there’s a bug in your SUV.”

  “No way. I’ve got a monitor that’ll spot things like that. If there’s anything sending out a signal, I’d know.”

  “Then it’ll have to remain an open question for now. But here’s something you can answer. You and Crusher were at the other end of the lot and I was too busy to yell for help. How did you know I was in trouble?”

  “I didn’t. I’d opened the back door to let Crusher inside when he tensed. I released him and he ran toward your car. He must have heard you fighting.”

  She bent down and petted the dog. “Thanks, Mister C. I owe you a steak dinner.”

  The dog licked her face.

  She laughed and stood up. “All things considered, I really think I should go back to my room and change my appearance before we leave. After that, we can find another motel. I can cancel my room here over the phone.”

  “Motels may not be your best solution at this point,” he said.

  “Your place then?” she asked, then after a second shook her head. “That really doesn’t seem like a good solution either.”

  “I agree. I’m going to pick up some of my camping gear—a tent, sleeping bag, the works. Then we can choose our locations and remain mobile. It’s the camping season, so all we have to worry about is a brief thunderstorm.”

  She considered it. “He won’t be expecting us to do that. But your plan has got pluses and minuses.”

  “Like everything else in life,” he answered.

  “All right,” she said with a nod. “While you finish up with the officers here, I’ll go across the street and buy what I need for a complete makeover. Meet me back in my room when you’re done.”

  A full forty-five minutes passed before Travis knocked on her door. He stood back so Laura could see who it was in the door viewer.

  “I’m almost done,” she said, letting him in. She was wearing a floor-length robe and her hair was still wrapped in a towel. “I need to get dressed and dry my hair, so why don’t you stand close to the bathroom door so we can talk?”

  She went in and shut the door almost completely, then called out, “What’s the word on that TV reporter?”

  “The increased police presence outside got the media’s attention. They have people listening in on emergency calls. So Barbara Malloy knows you’re staying here now. She and her team are outside. When we leave, we’re going to have to find a way to slip past her.”

  Laura blow-dried her hair quickly, then came out of the bathroom. Her hair was now an auburn shade that was closer to her own and she’d cut it so it framed her face. Wearing an oversize football jersey and jeans, her makeup light, she looked like the girl next door—the very beautiful girl next door. “You look…amazing,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Maybe the suspect will lose interest in you now since you no longer fit the look he prefers,” he said.

  Laura shook her head. “I don’t think it’ll matter to him at this point. He wants me because of who I am and the threat I represent, not because of the way I look. I’m unfinished business,” she said. “But my new look should help us get past a camera crew. Malloy knows you, so if we go out separately, we may be able to throw her off long enough for me to get to my vehicle.”

  “Your loaner car is available now that the crime-scene tape is down, but you’ll need backup the minute you leave this motel. You’ve got more to worry about than a pain-in-the-butt reporter.”

  “As I walk to the parking lot I’ll have my hand inside my purse and my fingers curled around my handgun,” she said. “When I drive off, the pistol will be on my lap and it’ll stay there till we make contact again.”

  “Okay, just get into the car ASAP. I’ll leave as soon as possible, making sure I’m not tailed, and head straight to the turnoff leading to the river walk. Crusher and I will meet you t
here.”

  “Any idea where I could camp out tonight?” she asked, heading to the door.

  “Yeah. There’s an area on my property that’s perfect. We can spend the night there. It’s hard to find and I’ll be able to let Crusher wander at will.”

  “Why don’t you stay in the house while Crusher and I go camping?” she said. “You’re bound to be more comfortable in your own bed.”

  Travis shook his head. “You need two partners—one with sharp teeth and one who’s armed and used to sleeping light.”

  “You don’t have to rough it just because of me. I can shoot and Crusher has the biting part covered.”

  “Crusher and I will both stay with you,” he said firmly. “This isn’t about fighting fair. It’s about winning. We stack the deck. Together we stand a better chance of success.”

  “We don’t have to be attached at the hip to do that,” she argued.

  He met her gaze and held it. As their wills collided, he felt it—that raw undertone that reminded him that he was a man and she was a very desirable woman.

  “All right,” she said, giving in at last.

  “He won’t take us unaware again,” he said. “Next time we meet him it’ll be on our terms.”

  THE TV CREW WAS PARKED by the front of the motel. Laura, sporting her new look, went out the side door and made it to her car unnoticed.

  Moments later, she pulled out of the parking lot. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed down to the road, pistol on her lap. Long before she’d reached the rendezvous point, she saw Travis’s SUV coming up from behind her. He went around her, communicating with a thumbs-up, and took the lead.

  They drove west out of Three Rivers, then north toward his home. Cautious for any sign of a tail, they took several false turns down dirt side roads. Finally they arrived at the base of a cliff a short distance southeast of the house.

  The bluffs bordered his property on the north and east, so the only approach was up the crude trail they’d followed. It would be impossible for anyone to surprise them from behind, even if they could somehow manage to elude the dog. The cliff would also amplify the noise of any approaching vehicles.

  “I almost got lost,” she said as they climbed out of their vehicles. “Your home’s down there somewhere, right?” she said, pointing.

  “Yeah, it’s not far.”

  “You said something about camping equipment?” she asked.

  “I’ve got some sleeping bags and a two-man tent at the house. Why don’t you clear a level spot about ten-by-twelve for the ground cloth while I get the gear? I’ll leave Crusher with you.”

  “Sounds good,” she answered. “While you’re there, pick up a special treat for him, will you? I promised him dinner but didn’t deliver.”

  “I’ll bring something for us, too,” he said with a nod.

  She shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. I’m too tired to eat. All I want is some sleep.”

  After Travis left, Crusher watched her while she cleared a spot where they could place the tent. Finished, she went to where the dog was sitting, sniffing the air.

  “We may be in for a storm, Mister C. I know you’re afraid of thunder and I’m not a big fan of it either, so you can share my sleeping bag,” she said, sitting beside the dog and placing her arm around him.

  The dog nuzzled her and licked her face.

  “Yeah, guy. Here we are, two toughies, but it’s the little stuff we sweat the most,” she said, chuckling, and hugged him.

  There was something infinitely comforting about the mass of warmth and fur. She’d never owned a dog but maybe it was time to rethink a few things.

  By the time Travis returned a half hour later, the wind had picked up and she was eager to help him pitch the tent.

  “We’d better hurry,” he said. “It looks like the storm’s getting close.”

  “I cleared that place over there for the tent,” she said, pointing to a spot between two trees.

  “It’s not very level,” he said, looking it over with a practiced eye. “But we’ll get good drainage if we need it.” He looked up at the moon, now disappearing behind a growing storm cloud.

  “It was the best spot I could find. If I’m going to have to sleep outside, I’d rather take the softer ground—that is, unless your gear includes an air mattress,” she said, looking at the SUV hopefully.

  “Stuff like that’s for wimps,” he said with a grin. “If you insist having something more accommodating to rest against, I’ve got a much better suggestion….”

  “Keep dreaming.”

  After inserting the poles into position, they were ready to raise the tent.

  “Crawl in and hold up the center while I tighten the lines outside,” he said.

  As she went in, the first thing that struck her was the smell. The tent had a musty, sweaty scent that made her curl up her nose. Laura reached the far end, stood up and held the ridge and end poles in position.

  “What kind of tent is this?” she asked.

  “A wall tent, like those shepherd tents from the old West,” he said.

  “I got news—I think the shepherd died in here,” she muttered, trying to breathe through her mouth.

  Travis followed her in, then raised the tent at his end. The center was tall enough for him to almost stand straight. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, but this tent’s heavier than I thought. Work fast.”

  The tent suddenly drooped at her end and the ridge pole whacked her on the forehead, knocking her to her knees and covering her in fabric.

  Travis crawled over and lifted the tent off her. “Lie down and let me check your head.”

  She lay back and he moved over her, the tent resting on his back. “No blood,” he said, using the glow of the flashlight to see her up close. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better than I was before,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Maybe this is a cosmic lesson—what’s going to happen to us unless we both start looking out for the unexpected.”

  “The unexpected is sometimes the sweetest part of life,” he murmured. The light was strong enough for him to see her lips part slightly.

  Instinctively, he lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t fight. Instead, she curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her.

  Her willingness added fuel to the fires raging inside him.

  Needs as old as time melded with the magic of the desert night. She moaned as he deepened the kiss, and that soft sound of surrender surged through him. He needed…he wanted her. Fire centered in the pit of his belly and lower.

  As she strained hungrily into his kiss, he told himself that he could draw back anytime, maybe in another moment…or two.

  He suddenly felt a blast of cold air, followed by an incessant tug on his pant leg and a soft growl.

  “Crusher, beat it,” Travis muttered, distracted.

  The heavy thumping on the tent roof penetrated the fog that encircled his brain and he forced himself to focus.

  “I think we’re in trouble,” Laura said, sitting up.

  “It’s pouring outside. If we don’t fix this tent before the water comes in we’re going to get soaked.”

  “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who started getting…friendly.”

  “I only came over to make sure you were okay,” he protested.

  “Puh-leese.”

  Crusher barked, then crawled into the tent to avoid the sudden deluge.

  “Yeah, boy, I get you.” Laura made room next to her for the dog, then glanced back at Travis. “If we don’t move fast we may have to paddle our way out of here.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time they got the tent secure, the intense but brief squall had passed, leaving swirls of a cool, light fog and a full moon overhead. All throughout the night they took turns standing guard. Crusher, who worked better with Travis, remained with his owner during their sleep/rest cycles.

  Laura was curled up inside the lumpy sleeping bag when she heard Travis’s soft,
almost magical chant as he greeted the dawn. His voice, with its rich cadence, stirred her awake, making her want to meet the new day and find beauty in the desert morning.

  Laura stepped out of the tent and followed the sound. In those first soft rays of daylight, she saw Travis standing shirtless at the top of a rise, finishing his morning prayer. He looked magnificent. His copper chest glowed in the sun, his warrior’s body a canvas of hard, toned muscle, his spirit as wild as the desert that surrounded them.

  She remained still, entranced by the beauty before her. As he raised his arms toward the sun, the light played upon the hawk fetish he wore on a leather cord around his neck.

  Finishing the ritual, he turned to greet her and picked up his shirt from the rock he’d draped it across. “It’s still a bit damp. Let’s go to the house so I can get some dry clothes.”

  As they walked back, she fell into step beside him. “Tell me about that hawk fetish,” she said.

  “Hawk flies close to the sun and is a symbol of courage. It speaks of the ability to see the whole picture while paying attention to details.”

  “It’s a good match for you,” she said.

  “The fetish shares its qualities with the one who takes care of it,” he answered.

  They stopped a moment and looked across the valley. “When my brother and I chose this parcel of land, what we liked most about it was that there was always game around. We haven’t had to hunt or fish to survive in years, but some memories die hard. This place would have seemed like heaven to us back then.”

  “Those were hard times,” she said in a whisper-soft voice. “My mother and I never went hungry, but making the rent was something else. That’s why we moved so much. She’d spend most of the money she made buying stuff from catalogs. Back then, I used to think it was to impress Marty but I was wrong. After she passed away, I saw the little notes she’d made for herself beside photos of the stuff she was planning to buy. One said, ‘necklace like the First Lady’s.’ It was then that I realized that she was giving herself those things, mostly knockoffs, as a way of staying in touch with a dream.”