Black Ops Chronicles: Dead Run

by O'Neal, Pepper

  Tony offered it to the mother, pointing at the costume and speaking softly, his tone persuasive. The woman continued to shake her head for a moment then reached for the money, her eyes downcast.

  Gotcha. Nick smirked as she pocketed the cash and rattled off what he assumed were directions on where to find Tess. Tony asked a question that was answered with gestures and more gibberish, then he nodded and beckoned to Nick.

  “About three miles north, we’ll find a small dirt lane that heads into the hills,” he said once they were outside. “She says Tess lives in a small, unfinished cabin several miles from the beach.” He started up the Jeep and eased back onto the road. “The last time they saw her was early this morning when she brought over the boy’s costume.”

  “I knew that old man lied to us.” Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw one of the children come out of the house and take off up the beach. “Unless the woman’s lying,” he muttered. “These people are savages. You can’t trust any of them.”

  “Relax,” Tony ordered. “If Tess isn’t at this new place, I’ve got a Plan B.”

  ***

  A shot rang out across the mesa. The bullet caught Tess high on her left arm. A burning pain engulfed her, stealing her breath. Blinded by tears, she stumbled as her foot collided with a rock. She crashed head long to the ground, tripping Max, and bringing him down, too.

  The coppery, salt-and-rust smell of the blood sickened her. She struggled to pick herself up then curled into a ball as her strength and courage evaporated.

  “Let me look.” He knelt beside her, his fingers gentle as he probed her injury. “It’s not bad. Just a flesh wound.”

  When she snarled at him in disbelief, he responded with a brief twitch of his lips before saying, “Be grateful the bullet only nicked you. It could’ve been much worse.” He ripped a piece off the bottom of his shirt and tied it around her arm. “There. That should stop the bleeding and hold you until we can get it properly dressed.”

  “Those bastards. Someday, Nick’s going to pay for this.”

  Max helped her up to a sitting position. “Count your blessings. If they’d been a little closer, you wouldn’t be getting up. That was a hell of a shot from that distance.”

  “Terrific. First chance I get, I’ll send the guy a trophy.” She glanced behind her. The jerks were lumbering across the mesa. She tried to push herself up, but her arm wouldn’t cooperate. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  He wrenched her to her feet and pulled her into a run. Once they cleared the mesa, they scampered down a sharp incline and along the edge of a small cliff, out of sight, and range, of their pursuers.

  “In here, quick,” he ordered, herding her into a cave just off the path.

  “Are you crazy? Those guys may not run very fast, but they’re coming. Right now, we’ve got a lead of several minutes, so we can probably get away if we just keep moving.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him out of the cave, the fire in her left arm paling next to the terror of capture.

  About the size of a motel bathroom, the cave had no place to conceal two people. She felt the walls closing in. Caging them. “We have to go. You can’t possibly think this hiding place will fool them.”

  “It’s not a hiding place.”

  Fighting to understand through the haze of panic and stinging pain, she stared at him. “Then what is it?”

  He dropped her duffel bag on the ground. “An illusion. We’re about to disappear into thin air.”

  ***

  12:07 p.m. a diner near the Intermodal Hub, Salt Lake City, Utah:

  Bartholomew Graves parked his car in the lot and stared through his windshield at the little café. There could be only one reason Adrian Jackson, the liaison for the Danites in Utah, had requested a meeting here instead of his downtown office: Jackson had another dirty job he needed the KSS to do. And, of course, Jackson wouldn’t want to get his own hands soiled. Or take the heat if anyone found out.

  Graves swallowed his distaste and levered the three hundred pounds he carried on his five-foot frame out of the car. He should never have agreed to head the clandestine group of vigilantes known as the Kolob Secret Service. But, damn it, the money was simply too good to pass up, despite the fact that every new assignment he was given increased his risk of being excommunicated—or assassinated.

  Shuddering, he pictured some of the more creative ways there were to kill. He thought about resigning his position every time he was summoned by Jackson. But he knew he wouldn’t—not now that he had a taste for what the Danites’ money could bring him. God knew, his law practice in Provo would never bring in enough to replace what he was making by running the vigilantes. So he worked his way through the tables filled with noisy travelers to a booth in the back where his superior sat waiting for him.

  Graves eyed the bench across from Jackson and sighed. No way could he squeeze himself into a space that small. Why couldn’t the man at least have had the courtesy to get a table rather than a booth?

  “Thank you for coming,” Jackson said as Graves pulled over an empty chair and took a seat at the side of the booth. “How’s the weather in Provo?”

  “Cold and windy as it usually is this time of year. But I doubt you asked me to come up here so we could discuss the weather.”

  “No I didn’t. I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem.”

  “One you want the KSS to handle.”

  When Jackson glanced nervously around the diner, Graves rolled his eyes. With the noise of other conversations, pots clanging in the kitchen, and the corner speakers blaring country music, no one could hear themselves think, let alone listen in on his and Jackson’s discussion. Besides, the diners were too busy—checking watches, scarfing food, and waving desperately for their tabs so they could make their train—to pay any attention to anyone else.

  “Yes,” Jackson whispered. “I need you to start an investigation. It concerns Nick McKenzie.”

  Graves’ lips curled in disgust. “What’s the little twit done this time?”

  “That’s what I want you to find out.” Jackson leaned forward, propping his elbows on the tabletop. “I’ve learned from—” He hesitated. “Let’s just say from a reliable source that Nick’s trying to kill a young woman for not following our teachings.”

  “That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t give a hoot about our doctrine.”

  “Of course not. And the girl’s not even a Mormon. So I’m sure there’s another reason he wants her dead. But that’s beside the point.” Jackson paused as a waitress stepped up to the table. She gave them a harried smile, took their lunch order, and scuttled away. “We still have to stop him,” he continued when she’d gone. “Before he damages the reputation of the Church.”

  “Wait a minute.” Graves shifted in his seat. The wobbly chair creaked ominously, giving him visions of himself sprawled on the floor amidst a pile of kindling. “Nick holds no position in the Church and his position in our organization is so minor, it’s hardly worth mentioning. He’s nothing but a punk, and everyone knows it. Hell, he doesn’t even hold the priesthood, so I don’t understand how his actions can hurt the Church’s reputation.”

  Jackson’s impatient sigh made Graves wince. “Think about it, man. Nick’s constantly in the public eye. Not only because of the McKenzie family’s wealth, but because it’s alleged he’s Connected.” He paused again as their meals were served and coffee cups refilled. “And since Nick can’t keep his mouth shut, the media is bound to get hold of this latest fiasco.” Spearing the single cherry tomato on his fork, he dabbed it in a blob of blue cheese salad dressing. “The world doesn’t care much for the way the Church views women, anyway. So I’m sure you can imagine how much trouble there’ll be if it gets out that the son of a bitch put a contract out on this girl for failure to follow our teachings.”

  “When you put like that, I can imagine very well.” Graves sighed and thought about digging into his own salad, but the brown-edged lettuce convinced him it had been sitting around for hours alrea
dy. Instead, he helped himself to a breadstick and nibbled on the end. “So what, exactly, do you want the KSS to do?”

  Jacksons pushed his empty salad plate aside and started on his entree. “Find out what’s really going on. Then go talk to his grandfather. We’ll allow him one chance to take care of Nick. After that, you have my permission to take action.” He took a breadstick and broke it in two. “Definite action.”

  Shit, this meant he’d be stuck here at least overnight. “Understood.”

  “Good. And, Graves? The clock is ticking on this. Even though the girl’s been on the run for some nine months, Nick hasn’t been able to find her. But my source tells me he’s just learned where she is. So we don’t have much time.” His eyes, tinged with menace, locked on Graves. “And be discrete. If the Church finds out about the KSS, I won’t be the one...reprimanded. I hope I make myself clear.”

  Graves swallowed hard and nodded. “Crystal.”

  It was clear, all right. The assignment was simple: have the KSS find out what was going on and then make Jonas stop Nick. Oh, and be discrete, Graves reminded himself, but get the job done fast. Of course, if anyone found out about it, he’d also have to take the fall.

  How in the frack had he gotten himself into this? He must’ve been crazy to get involved with the KSS.

  The bread in his mouth had turned to sawdust. His appetite gone, he tossed some money on the table and relieved the beleaguered chair of his weight.

  If he was going to accomplish any of it, he needed a phone. One that couldn’t be traced back to him.

  CHAPTER 7

  12:08 p.m., Baja California Sur:

  Max struggled for patience as Tess stared at him, blinking like an owl.

  “Disappear?” she demanded. “Are you serious?”

  Mindful of her bullet wound, he eased the backpack off her left shoulder and tossed it on the floor of the cave beside the duffel bag. “Well, not literally, of course. But we can make it look like we did.”

  “How?”

  He’d hoped she wouldn’t question him. He needed her cooperation and was afraid he wouldn’t get it if he told her too much, so he chose his words with care. “We’ll use the cave as misdirection—give them what they expect to see.”

  “Okay. And then what?”

  He sighed. “And then we’ll take them out while they’re distracted.”

  She took a step back. “Take them out? They have guns, and we don’t. What are you planning to do, jump out and scare them to death?”

  “Not quite.” He rubbed a hand down her good arm, trying to calm her. “Weren’t you the one who said we’d have to improvise?”

  Shaking her head, she groaned, every note dripping with frustration. When she tried to step around him and bumped her left arm against the cave wall, the groan morphed into a whimper of pain that broke his heart. Something inside him took over and he pulled her into his arms. Just to comfort her, he told himself.

  He almost believed it.

  But she stared up at him, her eyes huge, dark, and full of questions. Without thinking, he crushed his lips to hers.

  When she trembled, his blood fired and shot straight to his loins. Comfort, hell! Slipping his tongue between her teeth, he ravished her mouth. Jesus, she was sweet. She had an innocence about her that both thrilled and terrified him. Her fresh, honest flavor held him captive. He could’ve kissed her for hours. But the sliver of his mind that could still function screamed at him, You don’t have time for this, you idiot. They’re coming!

  With an effort, he released her and stepped back. It felt like coming out of a trance.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Why did you do that?”

  “Hell if I know.” But he’d damn sure have done it again if survival hadn’t forced him to focus. “Those guys’ll be here soon. Are you with me or not?”

  A frown wrinkled her forehead. “With you?”

  The fact that she seemed as affected by the kiss as he was would’ve thrilled him—if they hadn’t been in so much danger. “Come on, angel, focus. We’re running out of time here.”

  She shook her head as if to clear it and, pushing her hair out of her face, glanced around the cave. “I still think you’re crazy, but we’ve wasted so much time already, running probably won’t help us now anyway.”

  “Good girl.” Max tore off a small piece of her bloodstained bandage and handed it to her. “Plant this someplace on the shrubbery at the entrance to the cave. Make it look like you snagged it as you ran in here.”

  She disappeared outside. A moment later she was back. “Now what?”

  He opened her duffel bag and scattered a few items on the ground then gestured at her backpack. “Get me the gun out of your pack.”

  “It’s broken.”

  “They don’t know that.”

  She retrieved the revolver and tossed it to him.

  “Thanks.” He looked over the scene. Good enough. “This should convince them we’ve taken refuge in here.”

  “You don’t really expect them to fall for this, do you?”

  “They don’t have to fall for it. They just have to be distracted for a couple of minutes.” He stuck her gun in his waistband. “But right now, we need to haul ass for some cover.”

  “Wait.” She ran to her backpack and pulled out the coins. “Insurance.”

  “Good thinking. Now, go,” he said, shooing her out of the cave.

  He followed her down the path to a large boulder that jutted out toward the sea. With a quick nod of approval, he motioned her into the shadows behind the rock and edged in beside her.

  Taking out the snub nose .38, he inspected the hammer—bent at a forty-five degree angle. No amount of forcing could make it work again. I could kick myself for getting sidetracked and not snagging Bruce’s gun.

  Running footsteps echoed off the cliffs, alerting him that it was almost time. He glanced at Tess. She’d flattened herself to the ground without making a sound. Her skill impressed him. How the hell had she gotten so proficient? He’d have to remember to ask later—if he could keep her alive long enough.

  That thought caused a spasm of pain as the image of a young man flashed through his mind—obviously a memory, trying to break through. But he didn’t have time to pursue it. Two shadows fell across the path then disappeared.

  Rising to a crouch, Max peeked around the rock. The thugs were creeping into the cave, guns drawn.

  “They’ve taken the bait,” he whispered. “Time to move.”

  ***

  Though instinct still urged Tess to flee—and she didn’t see how Max’s plan could possibly work—she ignored her gut and followed close behind him. She was so damn tired of running. And if she had to face Nick’s men, at least she wasn’t alone now.

  She touched a finger to her lips. The heat and confusion from Max’s kiss still jangled her system. She’d never been kissed like that before. It was like being consumed—in one greedy bite. Then afterward, he’d acted as if nothing had happened.

  Damn him for stirring up the needs she’d tried so hard to repress! They’d gone from simmering to a raging boil and made her want things she couldn’t afford to want. But why had he done it, just to shrug it off? Was he laughing at her?

  You can’t worry about it now, damn it. Focus, or you won’t survive the next few minutes. Gritting her teeth against the chaos in her mind and the pain in her left arm, she clenched the sock of coins in her right hand and concentrated on not making any noise.

  As she and Max approached the cave entrance, she heard the two thugs inside, bickering.

  “They’re not here.”

  “They have to be, dumbass. Look at all this stuff.”

  “I see it, and I don’t like it. You get back outside and keep a lookout. I think it’s a trap.”

  “That’s a real good guess,” Max said, stepping up behind them.

  He brandished the useless revolver like a sacred sword. If Tess hadn’t known it was broken, she’d never have guessed he was bluffing. Didn�
�t the fool have any fear at all?

  “Drop your guns and put your hands in the air,” he ordered.

  Only one guy complied. The second one started to whip around. With one long, quick stride, Max rammed the gun into the man’s back.

  “Don’t even think it, pal—unless you’d like a hole in your kidney.” He took the brute’s pistol and pushed him farther into the cave. “Move it, asshole.”

  The low, feral growl of his voice startled Tess, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Was he faking his amnesia? Had he really been sent to kill her? From the scars on his body, it was clear he’d led a violent life. She thought back to what he’d said about being trained for stuff like this. And he’d just faced down two armed men without a weapon or a qualm. Maybe he liked to play with his victims before he pounced. That could explain the kiss. If he—

  Pay attention, her gut warned. She jumped and glanced around, zeroing in on the first man’s body language. Though his hands were still raised, his legs and arms were rigid, his eyes darting from his gun on the cave floor to Max, who was busy frisking the other man.

  Tess charged toward the pistol. The thug lunged. Shit! She swung the sock of coins at his temple. It missed, colliding with his jaw instead. Howling obscenities, he stumbled backward and covered his face with both hands.

  Amazed that it worked despite her poor aim, she dropped the coins, retrieved the gun, and pointed it at him.

  “Nice job, angel,” Max said. “Here, take this.”

  She made a grab as he tossed her the revolver, but her left arm couldn’t move fast enough. The little gun landed at her feet.

  Number Two snorted. With his hands in the air, he turned around to face Max. “Angel, huh? Guess she didn’t tell you her real name’s Tess. Did she mention how much money she’s worth dead?”