Hot Pursuit

by Christina Skye

  Always keeping to her right, Taylor realized.

  So his shooting hand was free.

  “Bend over a little,” he said quietly. They were approaching the front entrance. “Hold your stomach as if it hurts.”

  Taylor did just as he asked. They were rewarded when the doorman approached at a trot, looking concerned.

  “Can I help you?”

  “My wife’s not well. I wonder if you could bring around our car. It’s the yellow Wrangler under the second light.” Jack smiled, holding out Taylor’s keys.

  “Of course, sir. I won’t be a moment.”

  He strode off, his red uniform jacket the only color in the shadowed parking lot. As the motor turned over and lights cut through the darkness, Taylor felt the tension in Jack’s body. He turned casually, looking from one end of the lot to the other, then out to the adjoining street.

  Nothing else moved.

  When the Wrangler pulled up, Jack helped Taylor into the passenger seat and handed the attendant twenty dollars.

  Taylor gripped her knees, trying to stay calm. “Why the masquerade?”

  “I wanted to watch for any reaction. Lights on the street or movement at the back of the parking lot, things like that.”

  “Did you see any?”

  “Nothing.” He didn’t sound relieved, so Taylor decided they weren’t out of trouble yet. “Now you can answer my question. Why are we here?”

  Jack took his time adjusting the rearview mirror. He scanned the area one more time, then revved the Wrangler into gear and headed toward the main access road. “Something happened at the hospital tonight.”

  Taylor felt all the blood drain out of her body. “What?”

  “Someone was shot. The authorities won’t release that information to the public, but that’s what happened.”

  “Not Annie or Sam?” Her voice was strangled.

  “No. But the man was in Annie’s room when it happened.”

  “My God.” Taylor stared out the front of the Wrangler, breathing hard, trying to figure out how far she could trust this man she barely knew. “None of this was coincidence.” When Jack didn’t answer, she took that for a yes. “Why go after Annie? It all has something to do with me.” She rubbed her face, trying to wake up fast. Trying vainly to make this nightmare go away. “Because you were with me? Because we had a suite?”

  “That appears likely.”

  “I don’t understand any of this.”

  Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Take the phone. Hit number two.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Because you want answers.” Jack continued to hold out the phone. “Call the number. You’ll get your answers.”

  “I don’t want to talk to a stranger. I want to hear it from you.”

  “Not even if it’s Izzy?”

  She stared at him for long moments in silence. “You know Izzy?” she said slowly.

  Jack nodded.

  “You work with Izzy Teague?”

  “Our paths cross from time to time.”

  “How close do they cross?”

  “Ask Izzy.”

  “Are you a Fed or a freelancer?”

  “Ask Izzy,” Jack repeated.

  “Great.” She took the phone carefully. “If you’re lying to me about this—”

  “Dial the number, Taylor.”

  She hit the button, then waited tensely.

  “Teague here.”

  Taylor felt her breath catch. “Izzy? Is that really you?”

  “In the flesh. Beautiful and pure of heart, as always.”

  There was no doubt about that rich, gravelly voice. “Fine, so talk to me. What’s going on and how do you know Jack Broussard?”

  “How doesn’t matter. What matters is that you can trust him, Taylor.”

  “Yeah, right,” she snapped. “Especially when he tells me nothing.”

  “He’s just doing his job.”

  “What job is that? Running a divorce investigation for Rains’ wife? Since when do routine divorces involve armed assaults in public places?”

  “Calm down. I know you’re angry, so I’ll try to fill in the blanks. I pulled Jack in to help me with some surveillance. In case you don’t know it, Rains is playing with some nasty people. We think he owes money to the wrong crowd—the kind who collect by taking out a few family members.”

  Taylor had a sudden memory of Annie’s tense face as the ambulance raced her to the hospital. “It doesn’t fit. I’ve got nothing to do with Rains.”

  “You’ve been following him. And you were in the convenience store.” Izzy’s voice was flat, cold. He was in his professional mode, the way he’d been when Taylor had first met him. “When you started staking out Rains, that tossed you into the mix. We think the robbery might have been meant to cover up an attack on Rains. Whether to frighten him or abduct him, we aren’t sure.”

  “But they went after me in that store, not Rains.” Taylor turned away, aware of Jack’s eyes on her.

  “We’re dealing with hired muscle, not Fulbright scholars here. When Jack showed up like their worst nightmare, they probably panicked. Given the circumstances, you looked like their best ticket out.”

  Taylor closed her eyes while her mind worked furiously. “So Rains is in real trouble. What happens now?”

  “Jack stays with you.” A chair creaked. “When you go out, he goes out, too. No excuses.”

  “Like some kind of bodyguard?”

  “You’re in danger, Taylor. Until we know why, Jack stays close.” Izzy paused. “That means everywhere, night and day. We’re assigning people to the spa, too. Now would you put Jack on again, please?”

  She stared at Jack. “He wants to talk with you.”

  She handed over the phone and shivered as wind cut through the open window. Why was someone targeting her? So what if she had followed Rains around town? She knew next to nothing about the man or the details of his shady activities.

  She heard Jack hang up, but she didn’t take her eyes from the headlights cutting over the road. She kept hoping she would wake up and the night would be gone and this would be no more than a bad memory.

  But the road continued to flash in front of her, all darkness and fog.

  “We’re almost there.”

  “The place with the shrimp to make me weep? Funny, but I just lost my appetite.”

  Jack put on his blinker. “We’re going for information, not food—even though the shrimp really will make you weep.” A few minutes later, their headlights flashed off a glass-and-stone structure rising from a low hill overlooking the coast.

  “How well do you know these people?”

  “Well enough to trust them with my life—and yours. We won’t be here long anyway.”

  Taylor wasn’t convinced, but Jack was already parking and pocketing the keys. Her keys, if she’d had the energy to argue, which she didn’t. By recklessness and sheer rotten luck, she had stumbled into real danger, and obstinacy had driven her in deeper. Now it was time to wise up and get clear, even if it meant swallowing her pride and taking orders.

  She followed Jack into a large room with a stone fireplace that covered one whole wall. A fire blazed, casting a golden glow over empty tables covered by spotless white tablecloths.

  “Jack, is that really you? Hell, it’s gotta be, what, six years?” A big man in a white apron barreled out of the kitchen, arms outstretched.

  “Seven, but who’s counting. Dad sends his love, Rock.”

  The two men hugged, then stood back for some hard backslapping. The man named Rock seemed to give as hard as he got. “How is the old pit bull?”

  “Doesn’t look a day over forty.” Jack smiled. “As he tells anyone who will listen. You’re looking pretty solid, too. Cooking must agree with you, Rock.”

  “It has its moments.” Their host wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head. Taylor pegged him as somewhere between fifty and sixty, but he could have been a few years older. Th
e hand he held out to her was heavily callused, and his smile infectious.

  “So this is your important package. Glad to see you’re finally showing some taste, Jack, my boy. This one’s a looker.”

  Taylor flushed as she shook hands with the older man.

  “Taylor, meet Bo Rockney, alias Rock—and a few less polite names. Just remember, do not ever play cards with this man and don’t believe a word he says.”

  The older man laughed as he drew Taylor closer to the fire. “Have a seat and warm up. Any friend of Jack and his daddy is a friend of mine.” Rock glanced at Jack. “How about some wine?”

  “Not tonight. Coffee would be great though.” Jack glanced at Taylor. “We’ve got some driving ahead of us.”

  “Two espressos coming right up.”

  “Did you get those things I called about?”

  “Right over here.” Rock tossed a cardboard box to Jack. “I figure you’ll tell me in good time why you need a scarf and two sun hats in the middle of the night. Now, I’ll get that coffee and call my son.”

  Jack stiffened. “Your son? You’re not handling this personally?”

  Their host sighed. “Damned arthritis in the right knee, Jack. I don’t do the heavy driving I used to. But my son is better than I ever was, so you’ll have no complaints.”

  “Your call,” Jack said, but he was frowning as his friend left the room.

  “What’s going on? I don’t understand any of this,” Taylor said uneasily.

  “You will. Put these on.” He tossed her a floppy sun hat and a long red scarf. “There’s one more thing I need you to wear, too.”

  It took them twenty minutes to run through Jack’s route, finish two espressos, and get suited up.

  “The car’s outside. Good luck, you two.” Rock shook hands with Jack, then Taylor, and checked his watch. “My son’s got your cell numbers if anything turns up.”

  By now Taylor had a few thousand questions, but she held them, aware that these two men were pros—even if she wasn’t sure at what.

  She tugged at the black Kevlar vest Jack had made her put on. It felt like a gorilla draped over her chest.

  The weight reminded her this wasn’t book research. The danger had somehow become her life.

  Chapter Ninteen

  “Keep your eyes on the side roads. Watch for lights or movement of any sort. And if I say down, get your head between your knees and stay that way.” They were driving inland toward the freeway, and Jack never stopped checking the rearview mirror. The ease with which he’d strapped on his Kevlar told Taylor he wore it often. She yearned to ask where and when, but now was clearly not the time for distractions. “You think someone followed us from the hotel?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “And if we do find someone?”

  “I’ll call Izzy. He’ll handle the rest.”

  He frowned when he said it, and Taylor realized he wasn’t happy about the idea.

  For ten minutes they followed U.S. 1 toward Castroville, looping back often, then slowing and turning as if in search of a particular address. Finally, they pulled off at a service station, where Jack pulled out a map, pretending to study it.

  He didn’t look up as Taylor’s cell phone rang. “Take it. Rock’s son should be calling with an update.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, there. This is Rock’s son. Tell Jack that I picked up a car two miles back. Blue Volvo sedan. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have the plate number.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Taylor relayed the information to Jack, who folded up the map and headed back to the highway. She tried to contain her uneasiness. “You don’t look surprised.”

  “I’m not. I made the Volvo right after we left the restaurant, but he’s a pro, keeping the rhythm and holding back, so I needed to be sure.” He made a sharp turn down a side street, then a quick U-turn.

  No blue Volvo raced past.

  “Damned good,” Jack muttered.

  He pulled back onto the highway.

  “What happened to the Lincoln from this morning?”

  “They’re taking no chances we’ll spot them.

  “What do they want?” Taylor had gone over the last week backward and forward, but the most crucial piece of the puzzle still eluded her.

  Jack glanced over, unsmiling. “You tell me.”

  “I don’t know, damn it. Or do you think I’m hiding something on purpose? Maybe you think I planned this all so my sister would be attacked.”

  “No, I don’t think either of those things.” Jack’s hand covered her knee.

  “Maybe Sam does,” she whispered. “Maybe Annie does, too. I’m the screwup O’Toole sister, after all. It looks like I’m really living up to my reputation this time.”

  “No one’s saying anything close to that.” His voice hardened as he glanced into the mirror.

  “He’s there, isn’t he?”

  Jack didn’t answer.”

  They shot into Rock’s parking lot a few minutes later, but this time Jack parked closer to the front, just at the edge of the big overhead lights. “Take everything you need,” he said quietly. “We’re switching cars.”

  Two people bustled out the restaurant’s front door several minutes later. The woman stopped at the edge of the shadows, adjusting her red scarf carefully. The man held open her door, gave her a quick kiss, then slid behind the wheel of the Wrangler. Together they headed back to downtown Monterey.

  Jack and Taylor watched from the darkened kitchen.

  When the Wrangler disappeared, Jack turned to his father’s friend and gripped his hand. “Thanks, Rock. I owe you big for this.”

  “Hell, forget it. I owe your old man a dozen favors. Jamie will see you home safe and sound in Frisco. Just remember to come see me when you’ve got time for some serious eating. Tell the old man I said hello, too.”

  “Will do.”

  They left via a back door from the kitchen, where a big Audi waited with a driver at the wheel. Rock’s son happened to be two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, Taylor saw as they slid into the backseat.

  “Make yourselves comfortable, folks. You might want to stay down while I loop around a few times to be sure you’ve lost your tail.”

  When he was finally satisfied they were clear, Jack sat up. “Good work, Jamie. Any news from your brother in the other car?”

  “Yeah, he picked up your friend right outside the lot. Blue Volvo. Plate number 76 Bravo Foxtrot 5. He’ll be hitting most of Monterey and Carmel for the next two hours, so the Volvo will be nice and busy.”

  “Thanks, Jamie. Tell them to be careful. If anyone approaches, they are to evade immediately. No macho stuff.”

  “Don’t worry. My brother’s done a lot of stunt-driving. They’ll be fine.”

  Jack’s tense expression told Taylor that he wasn’t close to relaxing. After the news that came in a few minutes later, Taylor understood why.

  Jamie glanced back as he cut off from his brother’s call. “You’ve got a second car in place. Gray Acura, plate number 22 Alpha Charlie 9.” His eyes met Jack’s in the rearview mirror. “You two must be pretty special.”

  Taylor was caught somewhere between tension and exhaustion. “Jack?”

  “Later,” he muttered. “Get some rest.” He pulled her head down against his shoulder. “The night isn’t over yet.”

  They were ten minutes south of Redwood City when Jack eased away from Taylor and tapped Jamie on the shoulder. “Pull off at the next exit.”

  “You got it.”

  Jack had seen no other tails, but he was taking no chances. He’d relayed the two plate numbers to Izzy for a trace, but both men knew that the presence of a second car indicated serious players who were highly paid and highly trained.

  And Jack wanted them bad.

  Chapter Twenty

  FROM TAYLOR’S BOOK OF RULES:

  Forget about coloring between the lines.

  It was almost five A.M. when Jamie angled against the curb in f
ront of Taylor’s apartment building. After a little banter and quick handshakes, his two passengers headed in past the yawning doorman. Maybe it was exhaustion that left Taylor with the uncomfortable feeling she was being herded along, given orders rather than explanations at every turn.

  Or maybe it was fear.

  She watched Jack as they waited for the elevator. “Do you work for Izzy or for the government?”

  “I work with Izzy, off and on.”

  “I don’t understand why he’s so interested in Rains.” She frowned. “Unless Rains has government connections. Does he?”

  Jack said nothing, his face tense.

  “Hello? I believe I just asked a question.”

  “Look, we’re tired right now. I’ve got to call Izzy and we both need to grab some sleep.” The elevator door opened. “In the meantime, here are the ground rules. I’ll be right next door. Call me before you open your door to anyone. That means the doorman or a deliveryman. It means Candace and anyone else in the building. Call me before you go out—and that means anywhere. We’ll review all the other precautions tomorrow.”

  “Other? Wait a minute—”

  The elevator opened at their floor. Jack squeezed her shoulder. “Trust me, Taylor. This is the only way.” He handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Remember to use it.”

  He looked almost as tired as she was, standing in the dim light outside the elevator. Only that knowledge kept Taylor from demanding more answers before she agreed to these ground rules—or any others.

  He pulled out her key, taken from her key ring before they’d left Monterey. “I’ll go in and take a look. Just in case.”

  Taylor took a sharp breath. “Fine. But tomorrow I want answers, Jack.”

  “Sure. Tomorrow.” He motioned her behind him as he opened the door, one hand slipping under his jacket near his holstered Beretta. Once inside, he made a quick loop through the apartment, checked the windows and her small terrace, then nodded. “All clear. Lock up and be sure to put on the chain.”