by Nick Carter
Her face went to his chest In a muffled voice, she sobbed, “Can . . . can I come apart now?”
Nick stroked her hair. “Let them come, Kathy,” he said softly. He knew it wasn’t his hunger or thirst or lack of sleep. His feeling for her ran deep inside him, deeper than he wanted it to. Her crying had diminished to sobs. Her head came away slightly from his chest, to lay in the crook of his arm. She sniffled, looking up at him, her eyelashes wet, her lips slightly apart. Gently Nick moved strands of hair from her forehead. He softly put his lips on hers. She returned the kiss, then moved her head away from his.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered.
“I know,” Nick said. “I’m sorry.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m not.”
Nick helped her out of the car. Mike joined them.
“Feel better,” Nick asked him.
He nodded, then waved a hand at the car. “What do we do now?”
Nick started off. “We walk to Fan Ling.”
They hadn’t gone far when Nick heard the slapping of helicopter blades. He looked up and saw the chopper approaching them. “Into the bushes!” he shouted.
They crouched down among the brush. The helicopter circled above them. It dropped down slightly as though to make sure, then flew off in the direction from which it had come.
“Did they see us?” Kathy asked.
“Probably.” Nick’s teeth were clamped tight together.
Kathy sighed. “I thought we would be safe now.”
“You are safe,” Nick said through his clenched teeth. “I got you out, and you belong to me.” He regretted saying it immediately afterward. His mind felt like oatmeal. He was tired of planning, of thinking; he couldn’t even remember when he had last slept. He noticed Kathy was looking at him strangely. It was a secret womanly look he had seen only twice before in his lifetime. It told reams of unspoken words which always trimmed down to one word “if.” If he wasn’t what he was, if she wasn’t what she was, if they didn’t come from such completely separate worlds, if he wasn’t devoted to his work and she to her family—if, if. Such things were always impossible, they both knew it.
Two pairs of headlights appeared on the highway. Wilhelmina was empty; all Nick had was Hugo. He pulled the stiletto from his waistband. The cars approached them, and he stood. They were Jaguar sedans, and the driver of the front car was Hawk. The cars stopped. The rear door of the second one opened and John Loo stepped out, his right arm in a sling.
“Dad!” Mike shouted and started toward him at a run.
“John,” Kathy whispered. “John!” She too ran to him.
They hugged each other, all three crying. Nick put Hugo away. Hawk got out of the lead car, a black stub of cigar between his teeth. Nick walked up to him. He could see the loose-fitting suit, the creased, leathery face.
“You look like hell, Carter,” Hawk said.
Nick nodded. “Did you happen to bring a pack of cigarettes?”
Hawk reached into his coat pocket and tossed a pack at Nick. “You’re cleared with the police,” he said.
Nick lit a cigarette. John Loo came toward them with Kathy and Mike on each side. He reached out his left hand. “Thank you, Nick,” he said. His eyes were filled with tears.
Nick took the hand. “Take care of them.”
Mike broke from his father and hugged Nick around the waist. He too was crying.
Killmaster ran his hand through the boy’s hair. “Almost time for spring practice, isn’t it?”
Mike nodded, then joined his father. Kathy was hugging the professor; she ignored Nick. They walked back to the second car. The door was held open for them. Mike climbed in, then John. Kathy started to, then halted, her foot almost inside. She said something to John, then came back to Nick. There was a white knitted sweater around her shoulders. She looked, somehow, more like a housewife now. She stood in front of Nick, looking up at him. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever see you again.”
“Ever is an awful long time,” he said.
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I wish . . . I . . .”
“Your family is waiting.”
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and ran to the car. The door was shut, the car started, and the Loo family drove out of sight.
Nick was alone with Hawk. “What happened to the professor’s arm?” he asked.
Hawk said, “That’s how they got your name out of him. Pulled a few fingernails, broke a couple of bones. This was a rough one.”
Nick was still watching the taillights of the Loo car.
Hawk opened the door. “You’ve got a couple of weeks. I guess you’ll be heading back to Acapulco.”
Killmaster turned to Hawk then. “Right now all I want is hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.” He thought of Laura Best and how it had been in Acapulco, then he thought of Sharon Russell, the pretty airline stewardess. “I think I’ll try Barcelona this time,” he said.
“Later,” Hawk told him. “You get your sleep. Then I’m going to buy you a good steak dinner, and while we get drunk you can tell me what happened. Barcelona will come later.”
Nick raised his eyebrows in surprise, and he wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt Hawk pat his back as he got into the car.
The End
Table of Contents
Copyright Notice
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
