by DiAnn Mills
God, You have it all because left alone, I make one poor decision after another.
For the past several miles, Wallace had driven without headlights and made more turns than a carnival ride.
“I need a bathroom,” she said.
“Hold it.”
“The seat’s going to get wet.”
“Not my vehicle.”
“Urine smells.”
He cursed. “We’ll have to pull over. Don’t even think of trying to get away.”
“I bet you don’t get paid unless you deliver me.”
“The key word is alive. I don’t care how shallow your breathing is. So I’ll be holding your hand.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Stand over me with the gun.”
“Whatever.” He cursed again and opened the door, the only light except for a farmhouse in the distance. Where were the FBI agents? Had they lost Wallace when he drove with his lights off?
“I’ve seen your hapkido. Coming after me is a bad choice. Not only will I find you and cut out your heart, but Zoey will be dead too.”
“You said you knew nothing about her.” Was there no end to this evil?
“Guess you can’t trust me. What’s your answer?”
“I . . . I understand.”
“Good. I love a cooperative woman.”
I can do this. “Do you have any tissue paper?” she said.
“This model isn’t upgraded.”
How could she stall him? Where could she run? The hours of training . . . the instructor putting her through what-if situations that involved quick thinking and even faster reactions. Wouldn’t he be more trained with a gun than in hand-to-hand combat?
She’d not come this far to let the other side win. God was with her, right?
The passenger door opened, and Wallace stepped back, his pistol in his left hand and his body shielded by the door. The keys lay in the console. Her only edge would be surprise, and her skills were based on using her attacker’s strength.
“Slide those long legs of yours to the ground,” he said. “Move to the right and the rear. This gun can inflict pain without killing you.”
She touched her head while slowly turning in her seat.
“Hurry up. What’s the problem now?”
“Look, I’m not whining. But in the last four days, I’ve managed two concussions, and my head hurts. I’m dizzy, not that it matters to you.”
“Right. You needed a pit stop, and I’m being a gentleman. You fall, you pick yourself up. The best have tried to trick me, and they paid for it.”
She slid from the seat, still holding on to her head with her left hand, the hand nearest his throat if she could act fast. To keep their location hidden, he’d have to close the door.
Her one downfall when taking advanced self-defense was timing. Too often she reacted early. Taking slow steps, she moved toward the rear of the Escalade. The door closed behind her with a click, just enough to extinguish the light. Her mind registered an image of where he’d be standing.
She whirled around, landing a punch to his throat with her left hand while knocking the gun from his hand with her right. He staggered back but quickly regained momentum and landed a sharp blow to her left arm. The bone snapped. Excruciating pain fueled her adrenaline, and she kicked his groin. He doubled over, and she squeezed back into the passenger side of the vehicle, locking the door.
She dragged herself over the console to the driver’s side and locked that door. Pressing the engine to life, she slammed the Escalade into drive and sped away, leaving Wallace and gravel in her wake.
How quickly would he find his gun?
Where were the lights on this thing?
A bullet cracked the rear window and she pushed harder on the gas. But she couldn’t see. Another bullet zoomed past her ear. She used her right hand to flip on the headlights. The road ahead brightened. She looked for signs of other vehicles. Nothing. On the left a barn emerged. She needed help soon with the agony in her arm. Blinking back the need to fall under a dark spell, she drove farther, ensuring miles between her and Wallace.
But Wallace had his phone. He’d make a call, and she had no idea the difference between the vehicles belonging to the FBI and those associated with Wallace. She’d have to walk for help. No choice.
CHAPTER 53
10:57 P.M. THURSDAY
Through night goggles, Grayson drove without his headlights. He could see roughly three hundred yards, but he was a safety hazard to other drivers. Wallace had taken one turn after another in an attempt to lose them. Maybe he’d succeeded because none of the FBI could figure out where he’d gone. Time and speed calculations indicated he’d slipped by them or reached his destination. Either alternative left a bitter taste in Grayson’s mouth.
“Out here in the middle of nowhere, he could have pulled off the road until he saw us pass,” Joe said.
“That’s risky unless he has means to track us.” Grayson studied the area to their right and left. “Lots of trees. Guess he could hide there beyond our vision.”
“Or hold a family hostage.” Joe brought up a special app on his BlackBerry system to show real-time traffic based on GPS signals and cell tower triangulation. “But that means more people he’d have to eliminate, and Wallace is known as a loner. Get in and get the job done, then slide back under a rock.” He pointed to phones on the map. “These are ours. The other three are unknown.”
Grayson pointed to the screen. “Let’s check on this one about a mile and a half away.”
Joe informed the other agents and held his phone. “I can’t figure out why a professional assassin would nab Taryn. I can see how her credentials are critical for a deal tomorrow, especially with the scheduled LNG export. But Wallace is way out of his typical job.”
Grayson sorted through his thoughts and shoved ideas into place. He had to separate his feelings for Taryn from the case’s facts. “Her skills are right up at the top, which she’s proved with her past successes. She could develop any kind of program someone might need. The right people could force her to work on designing other projects—especially if they had Zoey.”
Joe dropped his phone into his pocket. “Do you suppose they have that little girl hidden out here, or is this just a lure?”
“Hard to say. Taryn drove north because of the evidence near Huntsville State Park. Wallace followed and intercepted her at the convenience store, but he didn’t turn around. Unless it was a maneuver to throw us off.”
“Which brings us back to how is Wallace involved?”
“Taryn may not be the target,” Grayson said. “If she’d been on his hit list, he’d have taken her out a long time ago. Who else would Iris Ryan want dead?”
“She managed to get rid of most of those who could have testified against her. But who does she want dead in addition to getting her hands on Taryn? I have no clue because none of those we’ve interviewed were high profile.”
Joe slapped the dashboard. “We’ve gone too long without sleep. We keep circling the situation and running into one obstacle after another. What do you know about Iris Ryan?”
“She’s the ice queen of Wall Street and an expert in all the ruthless tactics known to big business. I read where she warned the other traders she’d leave footprints on their graves and dead flowers for their widows and girlfriends.”
“Sounds like ‘ice queen’ is a generous title. Personal life?”
“Very private. Only a few close friends, and they won’t comment on their relationship. Parents deceased. No children. Been through four husbands. Each one helped spike her career. When she became more powerful than hubby, she ditched him. Her latest escort is ex-husband number four, her attorney.”
“Have we talked to him yet?” Joe said.
“In progress. I imagine if anyone knows her, the ex would.”
“What went on before her rise as an oil and gas trader?”
“Only child. Raised by her dad, who had her in a boarding school from the time she was six.
High achiever. Best schools. Keen business sense. The problem is she doesn’t care how she keeps climbing. She managed power of attorney when her father was ill. Took control of his assets and left him in a nursing home until he died.”
Grayson’s radio alerted him to an incoming call, and he responded.
“Spotted a black Escalade less than a mile from your destination. Looks abandoned,” the female agent said.
“Meet you there. Could be a decoy.” He flipped on his lights and raced down the road.
Joe touched his shoulder. “Are you prepared to face the worst?”
Grayson clenched his jaw. For almost four days, Taryn had occupied his thoughts in one way or another. He’d gone to bat for her when others were ready to slap on the cuffs. He didn’t want to think about finding her dead.
11:19 P.M. THURSDAY
Taryn limped along the left side of the gravel road, holding her broken arm. She’d found a flashlight in the Escalade’s glove box, but she used it only when the blackness confused her. She faced oncoming traffic, but every few seconds she stole a glimpse behind her. The main road crossing ahead held an occasional vehicle, but those looked like miles away at her pace. Once she reached the crossroad, she’d find a state highway patrol car, the FBI, or someone who’d help her.
Her left arm throbbed along with the rhythm of her heartbeat. The right side of her face must be swelling because she could barely see from her right eye. When hadn’t she hurt? She probably resembled a poster child for “Stay Away from Professional Assassins.” No matter what she did to help the FBI, her good intentions backfired. A logical person would advise her to back off from a task that she had no skills for. But she refused to give up until Zoey and all those responsible for the mayhem were found. If she survived.
The last time she’d been afraid, Buddy had joined her. What she wouldn’t give to have that beautiful German shepherd beside her. Or Grayson.
Don’t go there. You’re leaning on him because of your own insecurities.
Grayson, where are you? You warned me not to do this, but I insisted. His words at the retirement center flowed into her head and heart. He understood her issue with trust and spoke through her fears. She realized counseling would be needed to smooth out the speed bumps of the past three months. Did Grayson see her future along that path? Was he ready to climb aboard the train with her and Zoey? Had he given any thought to their friendship with a very needy three-year-old? God help him if he chose to take on her baggage.
To keep her mind occupied, she thought back through the evening since encountering Cameron Wallace—the things he’d said that Grayson could use. Very little, actually.
She’d barely come two miles, and dizziness wanted to overtake her. How fast would Cameron walk? Fearing she’d faint and fall on her left side, she sank to the ground. A little rest and she’d move on.
Blackness enveloped her, and she gave in to the relief from pain and her jumbled thoughts.
CHAPTER 54
11:46 P.M. THURSDAY
Grayson drove toward the area where the Escalade had been spotted. Another FBI car sped behind him. A third on its way. Through his night goggles, he saw a glow from the right side of the road. A body lay on the grass. His nerves screamed alarm. He swerved and stopped behind the fallen figure, allowing the car behind him to pass.
He jerked off the night goggles and grabbed the flashlight lying on the dash. The instant the beam settled on the body, he recognized the turquoise shirt and the mass of auburn hair. His focus should be on his job, not the woman on the ground.
“Easy, Grayson,” Joe said. “I’m right here with you.” He grabbed his Glock.
Grayson released his seat belt, not able to get out of the car fast enough. Pulling his gun, he followed the flashlight to where she lay. “Let me know if you see that scum.”
“I’ll kill him and do the world a favor.”
Grayson bent to Taryn’s side. She lay on her back with her right arm holding her left. Her right eye was swollen and a bruise trailed down her cheek. “Taryn. Are you okay?” Her stomach rose and fell, giving him hope. “Taryn?”
“Hey,” she whispered. “Is this my knight in shining armor?”
He wanted to draw her into his arms, but he might hurt her. “Just your loyal FBI agent. Where do you hurt besides the nasty bruises on your face?”
She blinked and opened her eyes. “My left arm’s broken. Heard it snap.”
“We can get that fixed. Anything else?”
“I’m good. Semi-good.”
Her spirit hadn’t been damaged. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No. Don’t want the exposure. Just drive me where I need to go.”
She even sounded like an agent. “What about Wallace?”
“Left him a few miles back. He’s on foot somewhere. Has his gun and phone.”
That didn’t make sense with the Escalade parked down the road, but he’d find out more once she was in the car and on the way to a hospital. “I’m going to help you get to the truck and avoid your left arm.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tied it around her arm and neck. “Tell me when something hurts.”
“Like my whole body?” She drew in a breath and reached for him with her right hand while he pulled her to her feet.
“Wallace will pay for this.”
She moaned. “He already has . . . but you can add to his misery.”
Grayson vowed she’d never be beaten like this again. He turned to Joe. “Do you see anything?”
“Nope. You have one tough lady there,” Joe said. “I want to hear her story. Might need to put it in my memoirs.”
“Joe—” her voice still a whisper—“at this rate, I’m going to write my own.”
Only his Taryn could keep her humor in a raw situation. He eased her onto the seat of the old Dodge pickup. “This will be a bit of a squeeze with you in the middle. No seat belts for you.”
“Grayson, be careful of my arm when you slide in, okay?”
“Sure, honey.” He caught himself, but it was too late. Maybe she didn’t hear.
“Grayson.” She swallowed hard. “Concentrate on stopping this death spree. If you and I are to be something more, it’ll have to happen later.”
He felt like the tables were turned and she was Joe or the SSA. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Actually, it sounded good.”
He chuckled and radioed the other agents about Wallace being on foot and added that he was transporting Taryn to a hospital in Huntsville. Joe joined them on the passenger side.
“Unless you intend to drive with one foot out of this truck, you’ll have to touch me,” she said to Grayson in a weak voice.
“Putting you in more pain is the last thing I want to do,” he said.
“At this point, we’re the Three Musketeers. Feel free to take over my broken arm.”
Joe laughed. “Will you marry me?”
“Not today. Consummating the vows is out of the question.” She gasped. “I can’t believe I said that. Oh, I’m so sorry. What a crude thing to say.”
“It’s the battered body talking,” Joe said. “We’ve heard a whole lot worse.”
“But not from me.”
“What about your tattoo?” Grayson said, remembering one of their first conversations in the hospital.
“What tattoo?”
“Uh, never mind.” He hesitated before drilling her with questions. “Do you feel like talking about Wallace?”
“I have to.” Her voice grew quieter. She relayed what had happened since Wallace picked her up at the convenience store. “I’d heard of devices to disengage trackers. Developed in Germany. Although he denied participating in the airport bombing, he didn’t deny his link to Nehemiah.”
“He gave no indication where Zoey is being held?”
She drew in a breath. “Sorry. I’m trying to be brave. I have to believe she’s somewhere waiting for me. I don’t think God would bring us this far and abandon us.”
Jo
e’s phone alerted him to a text. “We have an ID on Dina Dancer, confirmed by her brother,” he said. “She’s Dina Pedraza, Jose’s sister.”
“Could she have Zoey?” Taryn said.
Grayson recalled praying for his mother and how he’d asked God to help him hold tight to her hand, even when she released it and disappeared into the whirlwind. “How will you handle it if Dina doesn’t have Zoey and she’s gone?”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
12:32 A.M. FRIDAY
Taryn sucked in her panic. If Zoey wasn’t alive? Could her death be compared to all those who’d died in the airport bombing? A statistic? Was that what Grayson meant? Or did he want her to be strong and face another possible tragedy?
She tried to put herself in his shoes. He was committed to learning the truth and finding the killers. Perhaps he could divorce himself from allowing his heart to take over, but she couldn’t. She formed her words, letting them roll around in her head logically yet woven with intense emotion.
“Every person who dies needlessly deserves the responsible one to be held accountable,” she said. “But I refuse to think of Zoey gone until I see her body. The reason I won’t stop is because of her.” She closed her eyes. “I keep seeing bodies at the airport and hospital corridors lined with the injured.”
“Taryn, I’m not callous,” Grayson said. “If I allow every chaotic event to affect me emotionally, then I can’t do my job.”
“I understand. I just want you to see where I’m coming from.”
“I do. Would it be easier to relax until we can get to a hospital?”
“You mean like sitting in a dark room until someone turns the light on?” A jolt of pain raced to her shoulder. “This arm really does hurt.”
