“To a cop?”
She smiled slowly. “I can’t seem to get dangerous men out of my system.”
“And he doesn’t know any of this?”
“No. I was afraid he couldn’t let it go, that he would try to find Dave. But I did tell my brother, Dayton. We were always close, and I knew I could trust him. I thought someone should know in case …”
The room was silent.
“The CIA never asked you about Dave Lewis after he disappeared?” Jake asked.
“No. But then no one knew about us. We were together only a few times, and neither of us wanted anyone to know about it. His name wasn’t on Jeb’s birth certificate.”
Dallas turned to Jake. “The Del Cox you knew. What did he look like?”
“The last time I saw him—just before he was struck by the car—he’d changed his appearance. Seven years before that, he had dark hair and a dark beard. Wiry. Intense brown eyes. Smart as hell with explosives. Should I tell you his favorite expression?”
“No,” she said softly.
Jake thought back to the boy he’d glimpsed with her. Slim like Del—no, David Lewis. Curious dark eyes.
Dayton broke in then. “It’s not fair to open this now. There’s Jeb to think of, and Denny—”
Kirke broke in. “Jake was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. He spent seven years in prison, and now he’s violated parole because Del Cox sent him a note asking that he meet with him. Jake’s life has been destroyed, not to mention that two of his friends were murdered. Del Cox died trying to tell Jake something—maybe trying to make amends.”
Dayton stood, then nodded to Dallas, who stood.
“I’ll be back,” she said and left the room.
When she was gone, Dayton turned to them. “This is going to turn her life inside out.”
“What does her husband know about Jeb?”
“That he’s the son of a CIA guy killed in action. That’s all.”
“She’s at risk until the truth comes out,” Jake said. “Once it does, Adams no longer has a reason to silence anyone.”
“You’re convinced it’s this Adams?”
“I saw him right after the hit-and-run. I think he was going to try to finish the job, but then Kirke arrived. He’d changed his face, but I recognized other things about him.”
Dayton paced.
Then Dallas returned with a box in her hands.
She put it down on the table and unlocked it with a key she had with her.
“He gave me this that last night I saw him. He was distraught and scared, and something else. He asked me to keep it for him. If anything happened to him, he wanted me to give it to a Mitch Edwards. I didn’t want it. But when I moved back to Texas, I couldn’t throw it away. He seemed so desperate about it. But it’s been at the bottom of a box full of memorabilia for years. When you called earlier, I took it out and opened it. There was only an envelope and a key. She handed it to him.
Jake took it and picked up the envelope. Opened it carefully. A paper that looked like a lease agreement fell out. It was in the name of Mitch Edwards for a unit in a storage facility in Richmond. No number was mentioned.
He handed it to Kirke.
The numbers now made sense. Most storage facilities had codes to get inside. Otherwise one had to present all kinds of proof to gain entrance to a particular bin, or compartment, or whatever they called it.
A sense of elation filled him. Cox wanted to give him the numbers a week ago. The lease must still be valid. There was something there, something that would finally reveal the truth.
The lights went out. The room went entirely black.
CHAPTER 31
Glass shattered on opposite sides of the house. It could only be windows breaking.
“Drop to the floor,” Jake said in a tense whisper. “Guns. Where are they?”
“Kitchen counter,” Dallas said.
Kirke reached for her purse, which had been next to her. She unzipped it and took out the automatic. She felt for Jake’s hand in the darkness, then handed it to him.
She heard Dayton rushing into the kitchen. Mac and Cole were moving as well.
She was staying where she was. Next to Jake.
“Get behind the sofa,” he said, spoiling that strategy.
She crawled behind the sofa. She saw a tiny green light above her and realized the invaders probably had night vision goggles. They could see. Jake and the others couldn’t. There was a soft pop. Then another. Silencers. What were they firing at? She made herself as small as possible behind the sofa.
Then she heard a shot, so loud and so close her ears hurt. A bullet whizzed by, causing her to duck even farther down. Another. A flash of light. A curse.
Then a large flash of light flooded the room. She raised her head slightly to see. Dayton had set a large battery-operated floodlight on a table, then quickly ducked. It was just enough time for her to see three armed figures wearing night vision goggles. They clearly cringed when the glare of the light blinded them. Shots. One after another. One of the intruders went down, then another. A bullet smashed into the floodlight. It may have been a gutsy move, but it was too late for the attacker. His position had been marked. Another shot rang out, and she heard a thump as a body hit the floor.
Then silence except for a soft moan.
It seemed over almost as quickly as it had begun.
A pinpoint flashlight flickered over the room, and she peeked out.
Jake spoke first. “Kirke?”
“I’m okay,” she said as she sat up.
“Dallas?”
“Alive.”
“Cole?”
“Yo.”
“Mac?”
“Yo. I don’t think they expected quite as many of us.”
“Dayton?”
“A superficial wound,” he said. “Nothing serious.”
The light moved from one figure to another, and she recognized Dayton’s bulky figure as he moved among the fallen attackers.
Two were still. A third was moaning.
To her surprise, the latter had a knife sticking in his left arm along with a bullet in his shoulder.
Cole went over and kicked away the man’s gun. He pulled out the knife none too gently. He then tied the man’s wrists with rope from the kitchen.
“Kirke?” Jake’s voice sounded harsh as he reached for her.
“I’m untouched this time,” she said, though the tremor in her voice probably said something else. Reaction was setting in. Fast. Now she knew how the men at the OK Corral felt. She would never watch another Wyatt Earp film again in the same way.
The pungent smell of gun smoke permeated the air. A vase lay broken with flowers falling from a table. The steady drip of the spilled water added to the eerie stillness in the room as everyone took stock of the mayhem.
“I’ll see if I can’t get the electricity back on,” Dayton said.
Someone handed Dallas the flashlight, and she guided it over the bodies, making a path between them with the light. The one moving body was writhing with pain.
Kirke moved over to him.
“Stay away,” Mac said sharply.
“This is what I do,” she said, ignoring his demand.
“Let her do it,” Jake intervened. “She’s a paramedic.”
She quickly examined the wounded man. Painful wounds but not critical. She moved on to the other two. Definitely dead. A fourth was in the hall with a large hole in his leg. She improvised a tourniquet as the lights came on.
Dayton reappeared. Ignoring his own injury, he stooped down and tied the man’s hands. Then he flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number. “Denny, get home fast. We’ve had a home invasion. Dallas is okay, but we have a few dead bodies.” Then he called 911 and asked for an ambulance and police.
He took Jake aside. “You two had better get the hell out of here. Take your friends with you.”
Mac shook his head. “Cole and I will stay. We both have gun permits.”
Jake hesitated and addressed Dayton. “Kirke can take care of your wound.”
“Paramedics can do that.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble on our behalf.”
“They broke into my sister’s house with silencers,” he said. “I don’t think there will be a problem.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, his voice rough.
“As far as I’m concerned, they came after my sister, and by God, those who live will pay for it.”
Jake didn’t argue. Kirke knew why. There would be sirens all over the bloody place in minutes. They had to get out before Jake was apprehended. No telling how long they might be held if they didn’t leave now.
“Go,” Dallas said. “Let us know what you find out.”
“Give me your gun first,” Dayton said. “We need the bullets and guns to match.”
“Kirke’s and mine are not registered.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have a permit. I’ll just say they were gifts. Go.”
Cole threw Jake his car keys. “Use it as long as you need. Your car might have been tagged at the park. I’ll take yours and return it to the rental agency.”
She saw a muscle move in Jake’s throat. “If you ever need anything—”
“I’ll know who to call,” Cole finished for him. “Now get the hell out of here and clear your name so we can go on a nice, peaceful fishing trip.”
Jake and Kirke ran for the door, then to Cole’s car. Lights were going on up and down the street. Jake put his foot down on the gas pedal, and they sped away.
It wasn’t until several moments later when they were on the interstate when she could breath normally again. “Adams wasn’t there, was he?”
“No,” Jake said.
“Is it ever going to end?” she asked wearily. She sank against the cushion. No more adrenaline. She didn’t think she ever wanted to feel it again.
“It’s going to end,” Jake said firmly. “It’s going to end tomorrow.”
They stopped at a car rental agency near the airport, and Jake rented a car with one of his aliases. They left Cole’s car for him to retrieve.
Jake took the wheel and turned onto the main road, then the interstate.
Once again, they had no belongings.
She was exhausted, yet she was wired. She was beginning to feel like Alice in a violent wonderland, a universe so alien to her everyday life that she halfway believed it was all a dream.
Yet all she had to do was look at the mirror, touch the bandage on her arm, and feel the bruises whenever she moved to know that it was very real.
“Why did Dayton protect us?”
“Not us,” he said. “His sister and nephew. I don’t think he wants the story in every tabloid in the country. His nephew is the son of a renegade CIA agent. A secret child with an honorable cop as a stepfather. God knows what else. What a news frenzy that would be. No, I think he can convince those two cretins that they would be better off as home invaders than traitors.
She nodded, then closed her eyes and feigned sleep. There was a lot to think about, a lot to consider. But then she realized sleepily that her head was nodding. She hadn’t thought she could ever sleep again, but …
They stopped at a moderately priced motel in Oklahoma. He paid cash, and no questions were asked.
He half carried her into a room that was clean if unimaginative, then double locked the door behind them.
She was as emotionally exhausted as anyone could be. He pulled down the bedspread and laid her on the sheets. She let him pull off clothes that were sprinkled with blood. It almost seemed as if she was watching from a distance instead of being in the moment.
Her short hair was matted. Her face smudged. Her lips were bare of lipstick. Her skin was blotted with bruises, and she still had that black eye.
He sat there and watched as she curled up in a fetal position and thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. He leaned over and touched her face. So soft. She looked damned vulnerable, but he knew now she wasn’t. She was pure steel.
Yet there was a softness as well. He saw it when she looked at him. He couldn’t imagine why she looked at him that way when he’d been responsible for so much pain, so much terror. His heart contracted at the sight of her, and a painful tenderness—something he hadn’t felt before—swept through him. She’d given up so much to help him.
She made a little noise, and he went over to her. He stroked her back.
She woke and yawned, then saw him. She held out her hand. He could no more refuse her than stop breathing.
He slipped off his shirt and slacks but not his briefs and slid into bed with her. He had no condoms, and he knew how fragile the situation was. He might well be back in prison next week. He damn well was not going to chance getting her pregnant.
Even if by some miracle he exonerated himself, this couldn’t last. The last few days had been a roller coaster of emotions. Of hopes. And hopes crushed. Of a realization that he needed people and a wonder that they had readily risked so much to help him. For someone who had tried hard to avoid emotional entanglements, it was painful.
He had too many scars for an optimist like Kirke.
Kirke—a unique name for an equally unique person—stretched out beside him, her body fitting into his, absorbing his warmth. He remembered how cold she was earlier, and he put his arms around her and pulled her against him.
She uttered a purr of something like contentment, then her body relaxed, and he heard soft breathing. Nature was taking over. To his surprise, his own eyes started to close.
He let them.
She woke to his warmth. His body heat flowed through her, and she didn’t try to move. They were in the spoon position, and she knew the slightest move would wake him.
Instead she memorized the feelings, the emotions … everything she felt at this moment. He’d mentioned catching a plane in Oklahoma for Richmond. If they were successful, this might be all over this afternoon. He would be cleared and the government apologetic, if it ever was. He would be reinstated and return to adventures throughout the globe.
And the two of them? He’d never implied there would be anything beyond tomorrow. He’d never mentioned love.
If the impossible happened, and he did declare undying love, what was it that Dallas had said? That hell was being married to someone when you didn’t know where he was, or whether he lived or not. Kirke felt a new appreciation for all the wives of servicemen.
But that was pie in the sky. Wishful thinking. And she’d given up that long ago. Instead she would take what magic they had together and cherish every moment.
She would go back to her life of giving temporary aid to victims of mayhem and violence and stupidity. And just plain life. She shivered. She had been content. Now she wondered whether she could be content again without Jake Kelly.
He moved, apparently waking at that slight movement of her body.
His lips moved along the nape of her neck, arousing every nerve ending in her body. A sound came from deep within her.
“Beautiful, brave girl,” he whispered. “I’ve put you through hell.”
She turned and looked at him. His eyes met hers, and she marveled at the turmoil in them, at the expressiveness of eyes that were usually so expressionless. The hard lines in his face appeared deeper with tension, yet his hands were incredibly gentle as they roamed across her skin, caressing and arousing at the same time.
“Lovely Kirke,” he said. His words were like a drug to her, a heady aphrodisiac. She had never been called that before, nor had her name sounded so soft. Her body came alive, her nerves tingling with anticipation, a need growing inside her as he touched her breasts.
Just as she thought she would explode with delicious heat, his lips replaced his fingers against her skin. They nuzzled softly before reaching the taut nipple of one breast and resting there. His tongue ignited a string of fires that ran through her body like lightning.
Her hand entwined itself in his hair, and her lips to
uched his forehead with tender kisses. Her other hand touched his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of new beard, relishing the intimacy of tracing the tiny lines that stretched out from his eyes.
She felt his briefs and tugged them down.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said.
“I need you,” she replied simply.
Suddenly, there was warmth and power reaching into her, plunging deeper and deeper as if seeking the very core of her. She felt spasms, one after another, until she felt she would explode. Then he pulled out and fell on top of her, and his seed spilled over her. They clung to each other, savoring those physical feelings as well as the emotional ones that danced wildly between them.
She didn’t know how long they stayed that way. So many words unspoken. But she knew he wouldn’t say anything to her until he was free of the charges that had trapped him. And even then …
He pulled away and went into the bathroom, returned with a warm cloth, and carefully washed her. Then he went to the window.
How many times had he done that? How many times had he tried to tame the restlessness and energy that was so much a part of him? How could any woman hold him, much less Kirke Palmer?
The sun flooded through the window, and she looked at the clock.
Seven thirty. Just twelve hours since someone had tried to kidnap her. Less since the shoot-out in Texas. She sat up and looked at her clothes with dismay.
He picked up the phone and called several airlines.
When he finished, he turned back to her. “Our flight leaves at noon. We get into Richmond at seven p.m. I think you should call your reporter friend. You said she can be trusted, and so can her husband. I want to surrender to him at the storage facility.”
“What if there’s nothing there?”
“Then it’s over,” he said flatly. “I’m not going to endanger you further. If we don’t find what I hope we will, maybe your writer friend can write a story about the past few days. Once the story is in the open, Adams won’t dare go after you. It will only confirm the fact that he’s alive.
Catch a Shadow Page 27
