Burt apparently read her intent and his sneer turned into a full-blown grin as he approached her. “You going to rumble with me, Blondie?”
“I’m going to beat the hell out of you, Burt. You’re going to wish you’d kept that gun loaded and used it on me before I’m finished with you.”
He laughed. “This is going to be fun,” he said, then rushed her like a bull charging a rodeo clown.
Just before he reached her, she leapt from the floor to center of the bed, landing there on her feet while he crashed with his knees into the bed and his upper body fell forward. She jumped on his back, then onto the floor behind him as he bellowed.
He whirled to face her, his beefy face red. He rushed her again. She tried to evade him, but he anticipated her move and caught her midsection, driving her backward into the dresser.
Slammed into the piece of furniture, her breath whooshed out of her. Pinned between the dresser and his thick body she was momentarily rendered helpless.
Before she got her breath back his right fist slammed into her jaw. Pain seared through her as her mouth filled with the tangy taste of blood. Stars floated in the air and she closed her eyes and flailed her arms.
The stars faded and she opened her eyes, still churning her arms like a windmill. He leaned back to avoid getting hit and in that instant she brought her knee up and connected solidly where it counted.
He stumbled backward in a crouch, his hands cupping himself as if to keep the injured body parts connected to his body.
Cassie took the opportunity to move away from the dresser, not wanting to get pinned there again. “Are you having fun yet, Burt?” she asked, the words coming from her in half-breathless pants.
She didn’t want to display her switchblade until she was certain he was too weak to take it away from her. She was no fool, Burt was big enough, brawny enough that with a little bit of luck the weapon she was depending on might be used to kill her. She needed to wear him down physically before going in for the kill.
He straightened. His eyes gleamed with not only anger, but with a new challenge. “I’m not going to make your death a fast and painless one. I’m going to make sure you die slow.”
He leapt toward her and managed to grab her by the legs before she could jump aside to avoid his assault.
She fell to the floor, her legs trapped by the grip of his arms. While he held tight to her legs, she reached to grab his ears. Sweaty hands made it impossible for her to get a good grip.
She went for his eyes.
Poking.
Gouging.
Scratching.
He let go of her legs. She kicked out, hitting nothing but air as he once again rose to his feet.
She jumped up from the floor and spat a mouthful of blood on the carpet. She hoped it took Mercer months to wash away the nasty stain.
There was no time to catch her breath. His fist caught her again, this time square in the stomach. Her lungs expelled all their air. He hit her again.
Tuck and roll. Max’s voice sounded in her head and she obeyed. She tucked herself and somersaulted across the floor away from Burt.
He chased after her and tried to kick her, but missed. But by the time she’d executed several somersaults her breath was back and she felt more solid.
She stood once again and reached into the V-neck of her dress and pulled out her switchblade. She couldn’t wait any longer. She just hoped she could remain strong enough to make sure that he didn’t get hold of the weapon.
With a whispered whittt, the blade opened and she faced Burt.
He laughed. “What do you think you’re going to do with that little pig-sticker?” he asked.
“I’m going to stick a pig.” She jabbed it toward him, keeping him distant enough that he couldn’t swing at her and connect.
Her jaw ached from where he’d connected before. It pissed her off that he’d managed to get in such a solid blow. Although she could throw the knife and knew she could hit him, what worried her was his bulk.
He was over six feet tall and solid muscle covered with a layer of fat. Even if she threw the knife and hit him, there was no guarantee it would be a killing blow.
The best she could hope for was that the knife would be a distraction. He had little respect for the switchblade. He advanced with surprising speed, as if she held nothing more than a feather in her hand.
Cassie slashed, a grunt of satisfaction leaving her as the knife caught his cheek and opened up a gaping wound. Blood welled up, then began to pour down Burt’s jaw, but that didn’t stop him as he tried to grab her hand to halt the slashing of her knife.
Unable to grab her hand, he stepped back and open hand slapped her, the blow catching her nose just enough to make it start to bleed.
Again stars appeared and with an enraged cry of her own, Cassie kicked. It was a high, powerful kick and even though she was momentarily blinded by the stars, she felt it connect. The sound of a body falling to the floor was preceded by a deep, low groan.
As her vision cleared she saw Burt lying on his back on the floor. He was breathing, but unconscious. Cassie wasted no time indulging in relief. She raced to the nightstand and used her knife to cut the cord of the pretty lamp. She pulled the cord out of the socket and returned to Burt.
Using the cord as rope, she tied the big man’s hands together. She used the cord from the lamp on the other side of the bed to tie his feet. She then ripped off a long strip of the brocade bedspread and used it to bind his mouth closed.
Then, aware that she might only have minutes to escape, she pawed through the pile of her belongings, found the cell phone Kane had given her, then moved to the window and pulled it open.
Tucking both the cell phone and the switchblade back into her bra, she stuck her head out the window. Nobody.
She was two stories up and directly below her was a brick patio surrounded by flower beds. If she dropped from this height the odds were good that she’d possibly break her legs on the brick surface. She was good, but she wasn’t good enough to get up on two broken legs and run away from pursuers.
Thankfully the facade of the house was stone and part of Max’s education when she’d been younger had consisted of climbing up walls with few finger and toe purchases. As she swung a leg over the sill she hoped this stone structure would be a piece of cake to descend.
Knowing time was of the essence, unsure how long she’d have before an alarm would be sounded, she eased out of the window and to the ledge just outside. She reached out to her right and found a firm fingerhold, then found a similar hold for her left hand and hung for a moment as her feet scrambled to find a hold.
Shoulder muscles burned and her arms trembled until finally her feet found enough of a ledge to release some of the pressure of her arms. Thankfully the stones were set out a bit and she managed to scale down the wall with relative ease.
When she hit the patio she took off running. Heart racing, she sprinted like a deer, running through a field, aware that a gun might go off at any moment and she’d fall to the ground in death.
She kept her eyes focused on the stone wall in the distance. All she had to do was get up and over it before somebody found Burt, before they came hunting for her.
Her mouth still tasted of blood and blood still seeped from her nose, but she was alive and she intended to stay that way.
She hit the wall and didn’t waste time contemplating how exactly to get over it. She just began to climb. Inch by inch she made her way up as sweat trickled down the small of her back and her heartbeat crashed against her ribs.
At any moment she expected a shout to pierce the air, a bullet to rip through her back. When she reached the top of the wall one of the cameras turned to point at her.
She wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that she was scared or angry, but she smashed the camera with her fist, then dropped from the top of the wall to the ground below.
It was a long drop and as she hit the ground she bent her knees to absorb the shock of the d
rop. Then she ran. She didn’t look back but ran as fast as her legs would carry her away from the Mercer mansion.
It was only then she realized she should have grabbed Burt’s gun.
Chapter 14
Kane sat on the back deck of the safe house and popped open a beer. Around him the sounds of a neighborhood settling in for the night rode on the warm night breeze.
A dog barked, a woman’s voice called for children to get into the house and the neighbor’s television drifting from an open window next door all combined to create the noise of the normal lives of normal people.
Kane had never had a normal life. As the only son of a high-ranking military general and a respected FBI agent, most of his childhood had been spent being raised by housekeepers and military schools around the country.
There had been very little normal family bonding as the demands of his parents’ careers kept them away from the family home for long periods of time. He’d often wondered why his parents had decided to have a child. As much as he loved his parents, he’d always recognized that he was often a complication in their busy lives.
Still, it had been his family connections that had brought him to the attention of SPACE. He’d been twenty-one, trained in all forms of combat and trying to decide a direction for his life. SPACE had given him that direction.
During the times he found himself in places like this, immersed in the center of a neighborhood and surrounded by people who went to regular jobs every day and ate dinner together every night, he wondered what it would be like to be just a regular Joe.
What would it be like to come home each evening and eat dinner, watch television or go for a walk, then make love to the same woman every night? The contemplation usually only lasted a minute, then he’d mentally laugh because he knew he would never, could never be a regular Joe.
There had only been one time in his life that he’d seriously considered leaving the agency behind. That had been when he’d been lying in a hospital bed recuperating from a bullet that had nearly taken his life. But, ultimately when faced with his own mortality, he’d decided he’d rather die by the sword as an agent for SPACE than die an easy death as a regular Joe.
He took a deep swallow of the beer and leaned back in the deck chair, his thoughts on the woman who had never been far from his mind in the last five years.
From the moment he’d first been assigned to work with her, he’d wanted her. Even then she had been exasperating and independent, stubborn and amazing in her abilities. He’d both admired and respected her even thought she drove him half crazy most of the time.
He took another drink and stared up at the darkened sky where hundreds of stars blanketed the dark night sky. He hadn’t heard from her in almost a week, wondered what was happening. How long would it take before she’d get the information they needed? The Fourth of July was approaching too quickly and they didn’t have the details they needed.
The thought of her in Mercer’s house, the thought of the man’s hands on her body, his mouth tasting her lush lips made him more than half-crazy. Guilt consumed him as he thought of what Cassie might have to do to get the information they needed.
He should have insisted the agency leave her alone, leave her to her new life, but ultimately it hadn’t been his decision to make. But the guilt couldn’t compete with the sheer torture he’d been experiencing at the thought of her having to have sex with Mercer.
His cell phone vibrated against his hip and he grabbed it and punched in to connect. “Kane.”
“There’s a mole in the agency,” Cassie’s voice, wild and breathless filled the line.
Kane stood, adrenaline pumping through him as he heard the dangerous edge in her voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m out. They knew who I was. I got out.”
“Cassie, where are you right now?” he asked again. “I’ll pick you up.”
“No…no…I need some time. I need to think.”
“Come here. Get to the safe house.”
“There is no safe house.” The words screamed from her. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Somebody told them about me, and if they knew about me they’ll know about the safe house.”
“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you.” Kane gripped the phone more tightly against his ear. “Cassie, for God’s sake, tell me where you are.”
“I…I can’t. I need some time. I don’t know who to trust.”
The line went dead.
“Dammit!” Instantly Kane punched the numbers that would reconnect him to Cassie, but the phone rang and rang and there was no answer. She’d either shut it off or was ignoring it.
“Dammit,” he repeated and raked a hand through his hair in distraction. Her cover was blown and he’d heard the paranoia in her voice. He didn’t blame her for that, but he wondered if she had any idea of the danger she was in.
Not only would all of Mercer’s goons be after her, but it wouldn’t take long before every street dealer in the city would be looking for her as well. There was no doubt in his mind that Mercer would put the word out that she could screw up the dope deal of a lifetime.
At the moment Cassie’s life wasn’t worth a plug nickel. She was out there on her own and she hadn’t even trusted him enough to tell him where she was.
He didn’t have time to think about anything but what had to be done. He stared at his phone, knowing he should make calls to Greg Cole, their immediate supervisor and to John Etheridge, head of Homeland Security for the United States, and the single most powerful man in the SPACE agency.
But he wasn’t sure who to trust. A phone call to the wrong person might put Cassie in more danger. Five minutes ago he wouldn’t have questioned Greg Cole’s integrity, but with Cassie’s life on the line, he wasn’t taking any chances.
He punched in the number that would connect him to John Etheridge, head of SPACE. Kane had trusted Etheridge with his own life many times in the past. He had to trust him with Cassie’s. He had to tell the man that there was a traitor among them. Then he needed to get out on the streets and find Cassie.
Cassie had stopped running only long enough to make the call to Kane and the moment she disconnected from him she began to run again.
She needed a plan. She had nothing but her knife and her phone and the knowledge that she was marked for death. She couldn’t go back to her apartment. It wouldn’t be safe.
Nor could she go to Asia’s or Max’s. If they knew who she was, then they’d know the people she was close to, the people she trusted.
The one thing she had to do at the moment was to get as far away from the Mercer compound as possible. With this thought in mind, she ran down a residential street, looking for a car she could boost.
There was no way she could hitch a ride out of the area. She was covered in blood, both her own and Burt’s, and nobody in their right mind would pick her up and not ask questions.
She couldn’t chance ripping off a car parked close to the house in somebody’s driveway. She was afraid the sound of the car being started would be heard by the house occupants who would then call the police.
At this point Cassie didn’t trust anyone…not even the local authorities. She raced up the street, looking for an appropriate car. She stayed away from late models, knowing most of them were equipped with either alarm systems or antitheft devices.
It was in the third block that she found what she needed, a 1982 Honda parked out by the curb. It apparently belonged to a teenager. Multicolored feathers and fuzzy things hung from the rearview mirror and a stack of CDs were loose in the passenger seat. Apparently in this upscale neighborhood people didn’t worry too much about theft.
The car was unlocked. Cassie slid into the driver’s seat, then playing a hunch she checked the glove box and under the seat. Nothing. She’d hoped to find a spare set of keys. She couldn’t even rely on her hunches at the moment.
It took her only minutes to hot-wire the car and pull away from the curb. Even though panic roared through
her, she kept her speed at the limit, not wanting to get pulled over in a stolen car.
It had been years since she’d hot-wired a car. There had been a winter when she’d been thirteen that the temperatures had gotten unusually cold. Cassie had spent some of those cold nights in cars she’d hot-wired not to steal, but rather for the blessed heat that flowed from the vents.
She’d start the engines and huddle in front of those vents. She’d never stay in any one car for too long, just long enough to take the chill from her body. No amount of heat could take away the chill that now possessed her body.
She drove north, toward the downtown area, but before she got downtown she pulled to a curb on another residential street. She didn’t want to leave the car near where she intended to end up for the night.
She cut the engine, but before leaving the car she checked the back seat to see if there was anything she might be able to use.
A rumpled blue T-shirt and a breakfast bar were the only things she found worth taking. She grabbed them both. She changed from her bloody white blouse into the T-shirt and stuffed the breakfast bar into her pocket, then left the car behind.
As she walked her mind whirled. Somebody had betrayed her. Somebody in the secretive, covert agency had sold her out. She wondered what the price had been. Surely as much as thirty pieces of gold.
She had the information to stop the drug plot, but didn’t know who to tell, didn’t know who to trust. She trusted Kane, but was afraid of who he might choose to tell.
She felt more alone now than she had all those years ago when she’d watched her mother and her mother’s boyfriend drive away from her.
Staying away from busy thoroughfares, keeping off main roads and interstates, Cassie clung to the shadows of the night. She had a specific destination in mind, knew there was a Catholic Church soup kitchen downtown and where there was a soup kitchen there would be a population of homeless people nearby. She would be able to get lost there, at least temporarily, until she figured out what to do.
Get Blondie Page 16
