Love On the Run

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “You can say that again. What should we do? Any minute now, I’m afraid someone will come after Sampson. Do you think there’s any truth to his story?”

  “I don’t know, Cassi. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do—yet. I guess we could make a case for abandonment, but you’ll have to come back here to the U.S. to do it. Still, I’ll bet Big Tommy’s planned for that option. Did Sampson have any papers on him?”

  “I don’t know. There hasn’t really been time to ask. And what do you mean, you can’t do anything about this?”

  “Well, the FBI has jurisdiction when crimes are committed against U.S. citizens in foreign countries—in conjunction with the local authorities, of course. Like in a terrorist attack against a U.S. citizen or something. But so far in this situation, no serious crime has been committed. The way I see it, you have three choices: turn the boy over to the French authorities, take him to the embassy, or come back here and turn him over to social services, and so forth. But if someone started shooting at the child—”

  “Then it would be your business? Come on, this is Quentin’s son we’re talking about. If he weren’t in danger, why would Quentin entrust him to us?”

  “Yeah, I already thought of that, and that’s why I’m going to look into it myself. But we can’t ask the French government to get involved. That’s what it will mean if we call in our guys over there.”

  Cassi sighed in frustration. She knew Fred was trying to do his best, but it wasn’t good enough. “So what if they come after us?”

  “Look, there’s a good chance that if someone is after Sampson, they won’t know where you are. Presumably that’s why he’s with you, right? For protection. I’ll nose around over here and see what’s going on. I’ll even go over to the federal prison and talk with Holbrooke. Meanwhile, you guys just sit tight. Do you have a number where I can reach you?”

  “There’s no phone at the cabin. We’ll have to—” Cassi broke off. She could see Sampson and Jared coming back up the cobblestone sidewalk. Jared wasn’t dragging Sampson along as she had expected, but both were running, side by side. Jared was yelling something at her. What, she couldn’t tell.

  Several doors down, a light came on and an old French lady emerged from the door of her store where she sold fruit during the day. She wore a dingy white shawl, a long, shapeless nightdress, and tattered brown slippers. Staring at the running pair, she smiled a curious, toothless smile.

  “Car!” Jared’s voice came to Cassi urgently. “Hurry, get in the car!”

  Then Cassi saw the white sedan at the end of the street, gradually gaining on Jared and Sampson. Cassi dropped the phone and crossed the few feet to the car, fumbling for the keys in her purse. Jared and Sampson opened the doors and threw themselves inside. Cassi gunned the engine, tires squealing in protest against the cobblestones in the road.

  “They shot at us!” Sampson screamed from his place in the back seat. “With silencers!” As if to prove his words, a gunshot shattered their back window. Cassi stomped harder on the gas pedal. In her mind, she remembered the last time she had made a run from thugs. She had been scared then, as she was now, but this time her mind was strangely clear. She had gotten away before . . . could she do it again?

  * * *

  “CASSI! CASSI! WHAT’S GOING ON?” There was no answer. Fred stared open-mouthed at the receiver in his hand. The connection hadn’t been broken, but now he couldn’t hear anything from the other side. Seconds earlier, he’d heard a car and shouting.

  He buzzed Cherral. “Look, could you listen in on this line? Let me know if anyone comes back on.” Fred waited for Cherral to pick up the other end before replacing the receiver.

  Brooke’s pale eyes once more became intense. “What happened?”

  Because Fred was lonely and because he liked the reporter, he switched off her tape recorder and answered. “Holbrooke had his son dropped off in France at a cabin where Jared and Cassi are staying. Apparently he wants them to look after his son while he’s in prison. The boy says he’s in some sort of danger.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “What?” Fred asked politely, but more than a little annoyed. What did this reporter know of such things? Cassi and Jared were obviously in trouble; he should be helping them, not wasting time with her.

  “Well, one of the reasons I’ve been asking if you think Big Tommy is in danger is because right after his arrest, I learned that his cousin had a suspicious heart attack.”

  “Are you saying he was killed?”

  “My friend at the coroner’s office said the evidence was inconclusive, but he’d bet the guy was murdered. That’s not all. Another cousin of Holbrooke’s, a second cousin I guess, was killed two days ago in a car accident. And that man’s only adult son is now missing.”

  “So you think someone killed them.” Fred took another look at Brooke. She had obviously done her homework. “So who’s next on the list?”

  “There’s a brother-in-law, TC Brohaugh. He’s Big Tommy’s wife’s brother. And the boy, Sampson. That’s as far as I’ve got.” She smiled. “I was hoping you could help me from there.”

  Fred sat forward, making a rapid decision. “Okay, we’ll work together. But none of this goes public until I say so.”

  “Deal. As long as I get the exclusive.”

  “That can be arranged. But I don’t want you playing hero here. You watch from a safe distance.”

  “I’ll just be an observer,” she said smoothly. Her eyes danced, betraying her excitement.

  Fred picked up the phone, wincing as pain shot through his wound. Time for another pain pill. “Still nothing, Cherral? Okay, go ahead and hang up. They’ll call again when they can.” If they can, he added silently. “Meanwhile, get me our Legat’s office in Paris. This has just become an FBI matter.”

  * * *

  THE CAR SHOT UP THE narrow mountain road, the trees a black blur on either side. The headlights of the Ford carved out a path in the dark. “Are they still behind us?” Cassi asked.

  “Yes.” Jared sat in the front seat beside her, but sideways to keep an eye on their pursuers. “They aren’t gaining, though. You’re doing fine.”

  Cassi didn’t reply. She was too busy searching for the small roads she knew were coming up soon, the ones leading to neighboring cabins.

  “We can’t go back to the cabin!” Sampson shouted. He flipped the locks on the back doors, as though that would save him. “They’ll know where it is. They must have followed us. I saw them at the airport. I swear it!”

  Cassi’s head reverberated with his statements. It seemed that in his excited state, Sampson couldn’t say anything without shouting.

  “We’re not going back to the cabin,” Cassi said grimly. She glanced at Jared. “Isn’t there a road just after the bend?”

  “Yes, two or three, I think. And a few more after the next bend.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you thinking?” Jared asked, darting a glance behind them.

  “We go fast enough to get out of their sight and then hide up one of the dirt roads until they pass. Before they realize we’re not ahead, we’ll be on our way back down to the freeway toward Paris.”

  Jared nodded. “Good idea. We don’t know where this road ends.”

  “Hopefully, neither do they.”

  Their eyes met briefly. “I’ll tell you when they’re out of sight,” Jared said. “It’ll be better if we do it right after the next bend. That way they might think we’re ahead around one of the other bends. It’ll take them longer to realize their mistake. Don’t forget to turn out the headlights.”

  Cassi’s heart thumped painfully against her chest. She wished she could let Jared drive, but she had no choice. To stop now would be suicide.

  She whipped into the curve faster than she should have, barely keeping the wheels on the pavement. The road was fairly new, but along the edges there was a row of cobblestones where the past merged with the future. The idea had fascinated her during the
ir first days in France, but now it held no pleasure. It might be the last road they ever saw.

  “Now!” Jared said. “They’re out of sight.”

  Cassi jerked the wheel to the left into the very first gravel road. She couldn’t see a cabin, but knew there was probably one farther up in the trees. If only there was enough time to get out of sight. She flipped off the headlights.

  “Did they go by?” Sampson asked.

  “I thought I saw their lights,” Jared said.

  Cassi hadn’t seen them. She had been too busy driving.

  “They should have passed by now.” Jared peered into the night. “Come on, let’s turn around.”

  Cassi put the car in park. “Okay, but it’s your turn to drive. I’m shaking too much.”

  Jared took over the wheel and nosed the car up to the paved road. There weren’t any cars in sight, only the dark road, lit by a benevolent moon and a flurry of bright stars. He drove quickly back down the mountain road the way they had come. They didn’t return to Griesheim, but headed directly to the road that would eventually lead them to the freeway.

  Cassi felt Jared’s gaze and looked over at him. She had finally stopped shaking, and her heartbeat was almost normal. “Where did you learn to drive like that?” he asked with a grin. “I thought my heart would jump right out of my chest.”

  “Oh, around,” she said, faking nonchalance. “You know, the last time I was chased by mobsters on my way to Utah.”

  Jared’s grin vanished. “I’m sorry. Even beyond the grave, Laranda haunts us.”

  Laranda was Jared’s former boss, and it was she who had first involved them with smuggling, forgery, and organized crime. She had been killed in their last run-in with Big Tommy, but apparently her legacy lived on.

  Cassi gripped Jared’s knee. “We’ll get through this,” she said. “We will. But first we need a plan. I have my purse with my credit cards, the money we exchanged, and our passports. With my inheritance from Linden, we aren’t going broke any time soon. But where will we go?”

  Jared didn’t take his eyes from the road. “My first instinct says we should definitely leave France.”

  “I agree.”

  “But all my stuff is back at that cabin,” Sampson protested.

  “We’ll send someone for it later,” Cassi said. “Until then, we can buy what we need.”

  “I’ll buy it.” Sampson pulled out his wallet. “See? I got a Visa card. It can get us anywhere. Dad gave it to me. He said for you guys to buy whatever you want.”

  Cassi exchanged doubtful stares with Jared. Sure Holbrooke would provide for his child, but with a credit card?

  “Really,” Sampson said. “I’m not lying. And I’ve four Swiss bank accounts, too—with passwords.” He shoved four more cards under Cassi’s nose. “I have more money than that old dead guy who left you his gallery. It’s part of my inheritance.”

  “How did you know about Linden’s gallery?”

  “Dad told me.”

  “Why would he give you so much money?”

  Sampson’s face grew sad. “He said it was just in case. No one else knows about it.” He silently put the cards back in his wallet and shoved it in his pocket.

  Cassi met Jared’s eyes again. Like her, he didn’t seem to know what to make of Sampson’s revelations.

  “I don’t need you two,” Sampson said crossly. “I have enough money to make it on my own.”

  Cassi reached across the seat and touched his arm. “Everything’s going to be all right, Sampson, but let’s stay together, huh? Who knows? It could be fun.”

  “You want me to stay?” His face was expressionless, but his eyes begged for confirmation.

  Cassi saw Jared nodding, urging her to comfort the boy. “Yes, Sampson,” she said. “I do want you to stay. We both do. We need to find out what’s going on before we know where you really belong. Until then, we’ll hang out, okay? And you don’t have to worry about using that credit card. I have enough to take care of all of us.”

  “But Dad sent it for you. It’s payment.”

  Payment for baby-sitting. Cassi sighed. “Look, Sampson, I don’t know what your father has planned, but I do know that you are our responsibility for the time being. Will you promise to stay with us? It has to be on your honor. I know your dad has taught you about your word. Don’t give it to me if you don’t mean it.”

  “Do you keep your word?” Sampson asked.

  “Of course. We both do.”

  “So do I.” He paused, thinking. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

  Cassi smiled. “Good. Now let’s find a place to get some gas and food.”

  “Are we going to stay at a hotel?” Sampson asked.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Cassi said. “But I’ve just had a better idea of where we can go.”

  “Where?” Jared and Sampson asked together.

  “To England. We can drive into Paris and take a train to the English Channel. We’ll cross by boat. My guess is that whoever is after us will check the airports first. By the time they realize we aren’t going that way, we’ll already be in England.”

  “Yeah,” Jared said. “We were going to visit your friend, Grant Truebekon, on the way home anyway. So what if we show up in England a little early?”

  “I don’t think Grant will mind. He’ll give us a place to stay until we find out what’s going on. Maybe Fred will have some answers by the time we call him back.”

  “He’s probably worried.”

  Cassi gave a mirthless laugh. “Well, at least with people after us, it does seem to be an FBI matter.”

  “You’re not giving me to the FBI, are you?” Sampson asked.

  Cassi glanced at Jared, this time willing him to speak.

  “No, Sampson,” he said. “We’re not handing you over to the FBI.”

  “Promise?”

  Jared’s face was solemn. “I promise. You have my word. Until we hear from your father, we’re in this together—even if we all have to hang out with the FBI for a while.”

  Something in the boy relaxed, although not completely. Cassi saw a very lonely, lost child behind his sullen exterior and wished she could do something more for him. Maybe in time he would trust them.

  And then what? her conscience asked. Sampson was destined to be a mobster. Could anything save his soul before it was too late? Gazing at the too-knowing eyes in his young face, she had to believe it was possible. Maybe Sampson’s coming to them wasn’t just Holbrooke’s latest whim. Maybe it was more than that. Maybe his deceased mother was looking out for him. Maybe Sampson had been sent to them for a reason. Cassi vowed to do the best she could with the time she had with the boy.

  “Why did you run off in the first place?” she asked. “You said something about recognizing the car.”

  “I remembered the driver’s face from the airport. I saw him watching, and I knew he was coming after me.”

  Jared glanced in the rear view mirror. “Well, he didn’t succeed. He’s probably lost in the mountains by now.” Despite the pressure, they laughed.

  Cassi and Jared drove for the next seven hours, taking turns at the wheel, stopping only for gas and food. At the first place, they bought a map and learned that Sampson was a great navigator, so Cassi let him take over giving directions to Jared.

  Cassi was relieved when daylight came, the sun seeming to chase away her fears. By ten o’clock they’d reached Paris, and both she and Jared were exhausted. Even Sampson had begun to doze in the back seat. They couldn’t find the train station and stopped to ask for directions at a gas station. Thus far in their journey they had always found someone who spoke English reasonably well, but to their frustration, this attendant spoke only French.

  “Too bad we left the phrase book back at the cabin,” Jared said. “Hey, maybe he sells one here.” He looked around, but to no avail.

  “Daughterrrr speak Engleesh. No herrrre,” the silver-haired man said for the third time. Apparently, it was the only English he knew.

/>   Sampson approached the man and spoke to him in French. The man smiled and pointed down the street, saying something Cassi couldn’t begin to fathom.

  “Merci beaucoup.” Sampson turned to Cassi and Jared. “He says if we turn left up there and go down two streets and then turn right, we’ll find the station.”

  They nodded at the man in thanks and climbed back in the car, with Cassi at the wheel. “You know French?” Jared asked Sampson as Cassi concentrated on finding the station.

  “Yeah, so what? I speak Spanish, too.”

  “Isn’t that unusual for a boy your age?”

  “I don’t know. But I had a nanny who spoke Spanish when I was little, and now we almost always have at least one Spanish or Mexican maid. I like to practice with them. And my mom taught me French. We used to spend about four or five months each year here. She was half French, you know. In fact, my parents met on the French Riviera. Dad bought a place here since she loved it so much, but we haven’t been there since . . . well, for three years. When we come now, we stay at a hotel. I wish we’d go to the house. It’s better than staying at a hotel for three weeks.”

  “You miss it,” Cassi said softly. There was a lot they had yet to learn about this child.

  Sampson clamped his mouth shut and picked up the map, pretending to study it. Jared opened his mouth to voice another question, but Cassi spoke first. “There’s the station.”

  “It’s big,” Jared commented.

  Sampson shut the book and stared out the window. Once again, his face was sullen and closed.

  Cassi glanced at him. “You think you can get us some tickets? In case they don’t speak English?”

  “Sure,” Sampson said, his features relaxing. “Piece of cake.”

  That was when Cassi caught sight of a white sedan in the rearview mirror. When she turned her head to take a better look, it was nowhere to be seen. Was it the same one that had been following them earlier?

  CHAPTER THREE

  FRED LOOKED UP AS JUSTIN Rotua came into the office. Justin was his favorite of all of the special agents under his command, and he was good at what he did. The men worked well together and had spent many nights at the office—like tonight. But Fred knew their days together were numbered. Justin was a rising star; it was only a matter of time until he was promoted.