by Geonn Cannon
"It's a Taser. When Garth came after you, you didn't go for the weapon you had. That was my fault. You had a lethal weapon, but you weren't prepared to use lethal force, not even to protect yourself. This takes care of that. It will disable an attacker, but it doesn't kill them." She looked at the weapon. "Well, not usually. All you have to do is hold it against their skin for half a second, and they'll be disoriented. Two or three seconds, they'll be a useless heap on the floor. Keep it. It'll save your life."
Gwen nodded reluctantly and carefully tucked the weapon into her trouser pocket. She eyed the food and put a hand on her stomach. "Can we eat? I'm starved."
Lance smiled. "Yeah, we can eat. I got Chinese. I stuck to the staples so... What?" Gwen was staring at her.
"Nothing." Gwen looked away and shook her head. "No, it's just...you're smiling. It's a good look on you."
Lance smiled again. "I don't have much occasion to smile. But...post-coital Chinese food, I would say, fits the bill, yeah?"
"Very much so,"
She hesitated, then stepped forward and put her hand on Lance's cheek. Turning Lance to face her, she kissed her lips. Gwen closed her eyes and leaned against her, forcing Lance to support her weight. Lance was tense at first, but quickly gave in to the kiss. She touched her tongue against Gwen's, and Gwen moaned into her mouth. It was sweet, tender, everything a kiss should be and never before had been in Gwen's experience. Roy's kisses were rough and demanding, a mark of ownership. Her past kisses with women were hurried and quick, overshadowed by the fear of being caught. She was kissing Lance simply because she wanted to, because she was in love. She opened her eyes and broke the kiss to silence that thought before it became fully developed. It was dangerous, maybe deadly. She licked her bottom lip, smiled shyly, and gestured at the food. "Shall we eat?"
Gwen took the container Lance offered her and sat down on the bed. She flipped open the carton and looked at the window. "Hey, did you pull up in a truck?"
Lance nodded as she sat a few feet away from Gwen. "There was a security camera at the motel. They'll be looking for the Pinto, so I had to get rid of it."
"Where did you get a truck?"
Lance shook her head and shrugged noncommittally as she poked a plastic fork through her food. Finally she said, "It's a bad neighborhood."
"You stole it?"
"I had to. The cops will be looking for the car. Let's say I made a trade, like we did outside Altus. The cops find a guy driving the Pinto, he says he just sold his—I don't know— pea-green VW Bug. Guess what the cops are looking for now. It has to be this way, Gwen." She poked at her food and nodded toward the door. "There are more sacks out in the truck — clothes, hats, things we can hopefully use to disguise ourselves a little bit. And I did some scouting. Will Rogers is the biggest airport in the area, but I figured there had to be a few smaller ones, less likely targets for the cops to scope out. Found one called Wiley Post."
Gwen blinked. "Seriously?"
Lance looked up. "What's the problem?"
"Nothing, I guess." Gwen shook her head. "It's just...Wiley Post died in a plane crash, the same one that killed Will Rogers, in fact. Who would name two airports after men who died in airplane crashes?"
Lance chuckled. "Makes sense to me. Flying in the face of the gods."
They ate in silence for a minute until Gwen said, "So, are we flying to Colorado?"
"I considered it," Lance said. "Wiley Post is a much smaller airport, not terribly far from Will Rogers. I doubt Agent Mallory even knows it exists. It's Hadley and his cronies I'm worried about."
"You...killed Kay," Gwen said. She resisted the mental image of his forehead exploding and looked down at her food, her appetite dwindling. "He was their muscle. He did all the heavy lifting. Since he's gone, maybe they'll just cut their losses and go home. I mean, it's possible, right?"
Lance looked up at Gwen. "No, Gwen, it's not possible. They won't back off and leave us be. You know way too much about what they're doing down there in Saxe, and me...well, I've just pissed them off. They have to take me out because I killed Roy. They need to make an example out of me for the next troublemaker that comes along. You know that saying, Ôcut off the head and the body will die'? It's not true. Cut off the head, and the body will come and kill your ass to make sure the next guy knows to leave the new head alone. It's not quite as catchy, but it's more honest."
They were quiet for a long time. Gwen chewed on her bottom lip and finally blurted out the speech that had been brewing in her head since they first hit the road. "Lance, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you to leave. When you walked into the bar, I knew they were in the back room and wouldn't want any distractions. And I knew there were problems with Boris, and that he might show up and make a stink. I never thought he'd have a gun, but I knew there was a chance he would be there. So when you walked in, I thought about telling you we were closed. But I couldn't. I couldn't bear to see you leave. It had been so long since I'd seen someone so..."
"Gwen..."
"...beautiful," Gwen said. "I was attracted to you from that first moment you walked in, all sweaty and dehydrated." She flushed and looked down at her food. "I wanted to keep you around. And now it turns out that letting you stay might get you arrested or killed or..." She looked down. "I'm sorry."
Lance reached out and cupped the back of Gwen's neck. She squeezed lightly and said, "I didn't want to go, either."
Gwen looked up and smiled. "You're lying. But thank you."
Lance let her hand fall. "Let's eat. We should get to the airport as early as possible. Once we reach Colorado, we're practically home free. There won't be a way for them to know where we went, so they can't track us from there."
Gwen nodded. "Sounds good to me. I've never seen the Rocky Mountains."
As Gwen went back to her food, Lance kept looking at her — the curl of her hair and the smile fighting to stay on her face. Lance knew she was putting up a brave front, but she was still dealing with the sight of three people dying right in front of her in the past couple of days. She might truly be excited about seeing the Rocky Mountains, but Lance knew she was still entertaining thoughts of going home.
"Gwen," Lance said softly. Gwen looked up. "At the motel, when Keating recognized me, there was every chance he could have overpowered me, so we need to talk about what happens if you and I get separated."
Gwen looked down at her plate and lifted her shoulder. "I'll just use the Taser."
"Okay. Good," Lance said. "But, Gwen, you'll need to go to the police. Tell them everything you know, okay? Absolutely everything. About me, about what Roy was doing. Don't protect the bastards who were going to kill you."
"What about you? I have to protect you."
"No, you don't. They know who I am. You're not going to be telling them anything they don't already know."
Gwen said, "You killed Roy."
"I've killed before. The only thing I care about..." She caught herself, leaned back, and looked away quickly. Lance took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I don't want you in any more trouble than necessary. Tell the truth. Tell them I killed Roy so they don't try to pin it on you. If you're talking to the right cop, she'll be falling all over herself to believe anything bad you have to say about me. Do you understand?"
Gwen nodded and quietly agreed.
Lance gathered her food. "I need some air. I'll be right back."
She walked to the door before Gwen could ask any questions, pushed it shut behind her, and took a deep breath of diesel-flavored air. She could hear the low hum of cars on the freeway, and a siren somewhere in the distance. She walked to the truck she had appropriated, leaned against the tailgate, and shoved her hands into her pockets. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to the sky and thought back to another night.
#
"There you are." Lance turned and saw Elaine walking toward her. "I thought you had run away."
"I considered it."
Elaine wore a sleeveless, dark red dress that brushe
d against the pavement when she walked. Her hair was up, but loose. Lance tossed away her cigarette and pushed away from the concrete post she had been hiding behind. The sounds of the party drifted out through the door swinging shut behind Elaine. The large floor-to-ceiling windows cast blocks of light onto the sidewalk and Elaine walked through them to the shadows where Lance hid. The door closed and cut off the piano and chattering laughter of the art lovers.
Shivering against the cold, Elaine moved in front of Lance and embraced her just so she could stick her arms under Lance's jacket.
"Do you want my coat?" Lance asked.
"No, this is better." Elaine rested her head on Lance's chest and closed her eyes. "I wouldn't blame you if you did run away. After two hours with those pricks, I'm about ready to head for the hills myself."
"You need those pricks to pay for your paintings."
Elaine sighed. "A necessary evil. Just because I have to get screwed doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."
"Does that mean I'm not staying over tonight?" Lance teased.
"Mm, no way. I want that screw," Elaine whispered. She lifted herself on her toes and kissed Lance's lips, wrinkling her nose at the taste of cigarettes when she pulled back.
"I'm quitting."
"Sure you are," Elaine said, only a trace of anger in her voice. She moved her hands to the small of Lance's back and looked her over. "You look so handsome in your suit. Very dashing."
"I feel like a penguin."
Elaine smiled. "But you're my penguin. Thank you for coming out tonight. I know it's your one day off and you'd rather be anywhere but an art gallery in a...a rented suit." Lance's hair was restrained by a French braid, and Elaine took the opportunity to run her fingers over the tight strands. Lance closed her eyes and leaned her head into the caress. "Thank you for being here for me."
"It's important to you. And even though my tie is choking me and my hair feels weird and my feet are killing me, I'm happy. Because I'm here for you. The only thing I care about is you." She kissed Elaine between the eyebrows, slid her arms around until her hands met in the small of Elaine's back, and rested her chin on Elaine's shoulder. They stayed like that for a long moment in the cold Chicago night, until finally Lance said, "We should go back in. Back to the grind."
"In a minute," Elaine said. "Please?"
Lance smiled against Elaine's neck. "Yeah; in a minute is good."
Lance opened her eyes and let the memory slip away.
#
Lazareva was exhausted from driving all day, and Mallory just wanted to sit down and think about Lance's motives and how they tied into Keating and Pope's unexpected arrival in Oklahoma. Lazareva suggested checking into a hotel until the cops called them about the security video. The hotel they found was only a few blocks from the dive where Lance had stayed, but it boasted a few more stars. Against Lazareva's protests, Mallory let the Bureau foot the bill. "You can make it up to me by covering my tab in the bar," she said.
"Deal," Lazareva said with a smile. She didn't comment on the fact that Mallory only reserved one room. It had two beds; it didn't have to mean anything.
They left the front desk and went in search of a bar. They found one near the elevators, a dark alcove lined with mirrors and with a potted plant on either side of the wide door. It had a plasma TV in one corner, which provided most of the lighting for the rest of the room.
The bar itself was shaped like a P, with a long branch aimed toward the door and a cash register at the hump. Mallory slid onto a stool and rested her elbows on the railing while Lazareva flagged down the bartender. "Two Budweisers, in the bottle," she said. She looked at Mallory. "Is that all right?"
Mallory nodded and Lazareva sat down with an empty stool between them. Mallory watched the reflection in the mirror as Lazareva took off her cowboy hat and laid it on the counter. She undid her bun and threaded her red hair through her fingers. In the dim light, it looked almost violet, but it was red, there was no doubt about that. Mallory laughed and shook her head, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Ahh, shit."
Lazareva looked at her and Mallory grinned. "Sorry, it's not you. It's just that twenty-four hours ago, I was in a hotel bar just like this in Chicago, picking up a redheaded flight attendant."
"Oh yeah?" Lazareva said as their beers arrived. She picked hers up and flicked her thumbnail along the edge of the bottle. "I remind you of her?" Stress on the gender, watching Mallory's reflection for a reaction.
"A little bit," Mallory said. She gave Lazareva a sly grin in the mirror as she began peeling the label off her bottle.
Lazareva took a drink and smacked her lips. "So, what happened? Did it work out?"
Mallory ran her thumb along the lip of her bottle. "Oh, it worked out. But I got the call about the murder in Texas while we were...in flagrante. I left immediately, been chasing Lance ever since."
"Ouch," Lazareva said. She shook her head. "Leaving a redheaded stewardess."
"She was Australian."
Lazareva winced. "Oh, God. I don't know if I would've had the strength — job or no job."
"It's not for the job." Mallory took a drink of her beer. "It was for Elaine."
"Right. Sorry."
Mallory looked over at her. "I'm sure you have someone you would run across the country for. Someone who, if they called, you'd drop everything and just...go."
Lazareva shrugged and stared at Mallory's reflection in the mirror behind the bar. "Mom died when I was ten. She had the Russian blood, by the way. Everything good about me, came from her."
Mallory looked her up and down. "Well, then, thank you, Mrs. Lazareva."
Lazareva grinned. "Dad got remarried to a bitch, and he died when I was twenty-five. No brothers or sisters. I guess if someone shot my partner, I'd move heaven and hell to get justice."
"You have a partner?"
Lazareva nodded, her eyes on her beer. "Yep."
Mallory looked down at her own beer and felt her prospects of a one-night fling starting to dwindle. She decided that if Lazareva wouldn't be a conquest, she would do just fine as a confidant. "I was always the protector. Growing up, Elaine would be off in her own little world and I would be the one charged with making sure she was okay, that no one hurt her. I got so used to it that when I had to choose a career, I decided to protect other people for a living. How'd you get to be a Texas Ranger?"
"Legacy. Daddy wore the star. I may have hated the man, but I respected the badge. He didn't have a son to carry on his legacy, so he didn't fuss too much about having a daughter in law enforcement. He wanted me to continue the family tradition."
"You mean there aren't thousands of Lazareva's in the Dallas phone book?"
Lazareva smirked. "I've never actually checked, but I kind of doubt it."
"It's a big city."
"That it is," Lazareva said. There was a long pause, and then, "Faye...would—" She was interrupted by her cell phone chirping.
She lifted her hip and Mallory took advantage of the angle to look down at Lazareva's ass. Damn her, having a partner. She shook her head and took a drink of her beer as Lazareva spoke into the phone.
"Yeah? Yes, she's right here. Great. Thank you, Detective Acheson." She flipped the phone shut and pulled out her wallet. "Acheson's people checked out the security tape from the motel, found the shootout. Looks like it was definitely our girl versus Pope and Keating."
"And Gwendolyn Morse?"
Lazareva tossed a ten onto the bar. "They said she turned up on the tape as well. Come on, they have a copy for us at the station."
They slipped off their stools and left the beers behind them on the bar.
Chapter Fourteen
The camera was mounted on the wall above the manager's office, aimed toward the parking lot. It was angled to catch the cars more than the guests, since the insurance company's main concern was cars being stolen overnight. The walkway in front of the rooms took up about a quarter of the right-hand side of the screen.
They watched Garth Pope make a phone call, his back to the camera, and then walk casually to his room. Mallory said, "Do we know who he called?"
"We know that he dialed a Texas area code," the technician said. "We were able to zoom in and watch the number that he dialed. We're tracking it now."
Mallory didn't need to wait for the number to be tracked. Pope was calling Hadley, she would stake her life on it.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, the door to the room opened and Keating stepped out. Pausing to light a cigarette, he then stood on the concrete walkway for a moment, watching traffic as he smoked. He walked to the far end of the hotel, almost out of the camera's range, and leaned against the wall. When he finished his smoke, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and mashed it with his foot. He turned and was halfway back to his room when Lance came out of hers. They nearly ran into each other, froze, then attacked.
Acheson blinked at the ferocity of Lance's attack. "Holy shit. This girl don't mess around."
Apparently drawn by the commotion, Garth Pope came out of the room and then quickly disappeared back inside. Lance disabled Keating and ran after Pope. A few seconds later, Keating stumbled to his feet and went after her. For fifty-seven seconds on the counter, nothing happened and the world looked deceptively still. Then Pope came out of the room, swaying as he walked. The door to Lance's room opened and Gwen appeared for half a second before she ducked back inside. Pope ran in after her.
"Maybe he and Keating came up here to save Gwendolyn from a kidnapper," Mallory suggested.
