by Marta Perry
He lifted his hand to his head, and she stopped it before he could touch the cut. He grimaced. “Banged myself up. You okay?”
“I’m fine. Nothing but a few bruises. Do you think you can slide over to the other seat?”
“I’ll try,” he muttered. He reached toward the seat, raising himself a couple of inches before slumping back again. “Dizzy. Wait a sec.” He grabbed the steering wheel, levering himself with it.
He wasn’t going to make it. She slid her arm around him, took as much of his weight on her as she could. “On three, okay?”
He managed a nod.
“One, two.” She took a breath. “Three.”
She heaved. He pulled. His jacket snagged on the gearshift, and she yanked it free. Somehow, between them, they got him into the other seat. He leaned back, white and sweating. Blood trickled down his forehead again.
“I’m sorry. Your head probably needs stitches. I shouldn’t have tried to make you move.” But what else could she have done?
“S’okay. Did right.” He shut his eyes for a second, but he didn’t lose consciousness. “First-aid kit. In the back.”
Encouraged, she crawled behind the seats, finding the first-aid kit, along with a blanket, water, matches and candle, standard kit for driving in a Montana winter. She slid back into the front, dropping her bounty between them, and ripped open an antiseptic packet.
She leaned across him to swab off the cut, bracing herself on the seat to keep from putting her weight on him. He winced at her inexpert care, but he didn’t make a sound. Quickly she dabbed on first-aid cream and put on a butterfly bandage. She surveyed it doubtfully.
“Maybe I should…”
He pushed her hand away. “It’s fine.” He sounded fretful. “Just get us back on the road.”
“I’ll try.”
She turned the key, uttering a silent prayer. Amazingly enough, the motor caught on the first effort. The truck might be old, but Micah probably kept it perfectly maintained. Now… She peered back over her shoulder. The road was there somewhere, obscured by the swirling snow. If she went straight back, they should hit it. She struggled to get the shift into Reverse. Stepped on the gas. And heard the wheels spin frantically, probably digging them deeper into the snow.
Micah braced himself, sitting upright with an effort that made his lips tighten. “Rock it,” he said. “Go forward, then back, quick as you can.”
She shoved the stubborn gearshift. It had been too long since she’d driven a vehicle with a stick shift. She was spoiled, that was all. Why couldn’t she do such a simple thing now, when their safety depended on it?
Micah watched, frowning as if it was an effort to focus. He was probably thinking that he could do it much better himself.
“It’s no use.” She pounded the steering wheel. “I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. Give it another try.”
He wasn’t giving up. She couldn’t, either.
Another rock, another failure. The wheels spun in the snow. Try again. Again, sending up a despairing prayer. Finally she got the knack of it. The wheels caught. Euphoria surged through her as the vehicle shot backward onto the road, jolting to a stop when she hit the brake.
“We did it.”
“You did it.” His lips lifted in a faint smile. “Good work.”
She wanted to stop time right there, to enjoy the moment of shared triumph, but she couldn’t. For all they knew, their pursuers could be right behind them. They couldn’t call for help, and the snow fell as thickly as ever.
“We should get going.” She put the vehicle in gear and heard an ominous mutter from the engine. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’ll get us there. Always been reliable.” His eyes drifted shut, and he seemed to force them open. “Don’t let me go to sleep.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “No matter what.”
She nursed the 4x4 down the snowy road, peering into swirling whiteness, trying to keep them in the faint depressions that marked another vehicle’s passage. She talked, asked questions, talked nonsense, anything to keep Micah awake.
She talked about anything and everything except the important thing, the thing that filled her heart and mind with astonishment. Somehow, during those moments when their safety hung in the balance, she’d recognized the truth. She loved him. She loved Micah with all her heart. She had no idea what he felt for her. She didn’t know whether they’d even live long enough to make it matter. But at the moment they were here, together, alive. That was all she cared about.
* * *
Micah’s mind finally started to clear. He turned toward Jade. A wave of dizziness hit, so that for an instant he thought the vehicle was spinning on ice again. He braced his hand against the dash until the spinning stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Jade’s concern reached out to touch him, even though she didn’t take her eyes from the road ahead.
“Nothing.” He hated admitting weakness, but if they were going to survive this, he better be honest. “A little dizzy when I move my head, that’s all.”
“You need to be seen by a doctor.” Jade’s hands were so tense on the wheel that her fingers were bone-white.
“No chance of that right now. Anyway, I’ll be okay. I’ve had worse hits than this on a high school football field and gone right back in.”
“You probably lied to the coach and told him you were fine.”
“I probably did. Teenage boys can be pretty dumb about things like that. Too busy trying to be macho to think straight.”
“Well, don’t go all macho on me now.” She swung a quick glance at him before riveting her gaze to the road again. “Be honest about it.”
“I’ll be honest with you about everything, Jade.” That was a pretty big statement for a man in his line of work, but he meant every word. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” Her voice went husky on the words.
“So, even though I’d like to insist on taking the wheel, I won’t, since I’m seeing double every time I move my head.”
Talking was helping, though. It seemed to speed up his sluggish mental processes.
“I’d be happy to be able to see just one road at this point.” Every line in Jade’s body was tense. “I keep feeling as if I could go off the berm and not even know it.”
“You’re doing fine.” He longed to soothe the tension from her neck and shoulders, but he didn’t dare touch her. Neither of them could stand the distraction right now. Instead he reached for the GPS, tilting it so that he could see the screen. Nothing.
“I’m afraid that’s what you hit your head on,” Jade said.
“Looks like it didn’t do either of us much good.” A glance at the radio told him that wasn’t an option. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone.
“I tried mine when…when you weren’t coming round.”
There was a telltale tremor in her voice. “I couldn’t get a signal.”
He’d scared her, in other words. She’d been in trouble, and he’d been out cold.
He turned his on. “Not much here, either, but I’ll give it a try.” He punched in Jackson’s cell number. It seemed to take forever. Finally he heard the faint sound of a connection, but the call went straight to voice mail. Better than nothing.
“Micah here. We’re on the road paralleling I-90, trying to get Jade to Stan Guthrie up at Black Creek Lodge. She’ll be safe there until you can arrange protection.” He hoped he didn’t sound as worried as he felt. Hoped Jackson would get this. “The shooters in the maroon sedan from the parking garage were on our tail, but I think we’ve lost them. I’ll contact you when we get there.” He clicked off in a haze of static.
“Did it go through?”
He read the fear in her voice. “I think so. When he gets it…” he wouldn’t say if. Jade was spooked enough already “…he’ll probably send a backup team straight to the lodge to meet us. Meanwhile, let’s just look on the bright side.”
“And that would be?” A lit
tle of the spirit came back into her words.
“Well, we’re alive. And we haven’t seen anything of our followers for miles. We’ll have to hope they’re still sitting out there on the interstate, waiting for a tow.”
“Being alive is definitely a high point.” Her tension seemed to ease a bit. “There were moments when I had my doubts, especially when I saw that tree coming at us.”
The memory swept over him, and he couldn’t maintain the light tone. “I’m sorry, Jade. It’s my fault you’re in this situation. I thought…”
“Just stop.” She sent him a look that was nearly a glare. “Don’t you apologize to me for trying to keep me alive. I won’t listen to that. Okay?”
“Okay.” He wouldn’t persist when she so clearly didn’t want to hear it. If he had doubts, he’d keep them to himself. He’d been wrong about Jade too often. That first day he’d thought her rigid and uncaring, and that had colored his dealings with her.
Now…now he knew her. Now he understood the courage and tenacity that dwelt behind that beautiful exterior and that prim manner. Those were qualities he admired in anyone, but in Jade, in went beyond that. Far beyond that.
He cared. Cared deeply…deeply enough to risk his job, his future, his life for her.
Love. He let his mind circle around the word cautiously, unwilling to admit to it. Then he pushed it away. Whatever he felt for Jade, it would have to wait. Right now the only important thing was her safety. He didn’t dare let his emotions get the better of him when her life was at stake. And if he was going to keep from betraying his feelings, he had to steer away from saying anything personal. He sucked in a breath, realizing he’d been quiet too long. She’d be thinking…well, he wasn’t sure what. He just knew he had to be careful, or he’d fall so hard for her that all of his professional skill might just vanish in a whirlwind of emotion.
“I guess…” He paused, cleared his throat. “We haven’t really talked enough about what’s going on as far as the case is concerned.”
“We’ve been a little busy.” The trace of a smile touched her face. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you’re not supposed to. I trust you.”
“Thanks, but in this situation I think the time for professional discretion has passed.” He tried to arrange the thoughts in his mind. “I was out of the office this morning in order to meet with a woman who is in hiding until it’s time for her to testify against Vincent Martino. The Martino crime family from Chicago. You know about them?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Vaguely. There was something on the news lately about a Mafia don in Chicago who was critically ill. Is that the one?”
“That’s Vincent’s father. Word is out that Vincent is trying to pay a final tribute to his father. We think the tribute is killing a woman who put his father in jail years ago. Apparently the Mob knows that the woman is supposedly living somewhere in Montana.”
“Somewhere?” She caught the salient point. “You mean they don’t know where or you don’t know where?”
“She was in witness protection, but she left.” He sifted through what he’d learned from Jackson about Kristin Perry’s birth mother. That part of it wasn’t his to tell.
“Okay,” she said slowly, sounding as if she were doing some sifting, too. “Even if we assume they’re after me because they’re not sure whether I’m Jade or Ruby, I still don’t see what that has to do with Ruby. She’d never even been to Chicago.”
“That’s the part that had us confused, too. But it’s beginning to look as if Vincent Martino put out a contract on the woman. No one knows much about her, but they do know that her last known address was in Montana. And that she has green eyes. And that she’s in the Witness Protection Program.”
“But that…that’s ridiculous.” Jade’s logical mind rejected that instantly. “Even if they are thugs, they can’t be stupid enough to go around killing every green-eyed woman in Montana who’s under protection.”
“Never underestimate the stupidity of the average bad guy. If they were Einsteins, we wouldn’t catch as many as we do.”
“Even so…”
“I know. But two women who were in Witness Protection in Montana have been killed. Both had green eyes. And now they’re making a concerted effort to kill you.”
It sounded unlikely, even put that way.
“Look, I’d dismiss it as coincidence, except that someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to bribe or threaten the locations of those women out of a federal employee. And there’s another thing. That woman…the one they’re trying to kill…her name is Eloise.”
He saw that hit. Her green eyes widened as she took her gaze from the road for an instant.
“That was the name that man called me. The one at the library.”
“Right. That’s what put us on to it. My brother is convinced that there’s an open contract out on Eloise. That means that anyone can kill her and claim the reward.”
“So there are a bunch of armed maniacs roaming around Montana.”
He grimaced. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. Vincent Martino is no dummy, from everything I’ve learned about him and his organization.” His thoughts flickered toward the endless files and photographs he’d scanned through after that initial memo from Jackson about the Martino crime family. “He can’t be happy that his goons are drawing attention to themselves.”
“If that’s so, then once he realizes that I’m not the woman he’s after, he’ll leave me alone.” Her voice lifted, as if she saw her way through the dark. He wanted to encourage her. She deserved to have a little hope at this point. But once Martino had set this bloody rampage into motion, how would it end? Two women were dead already.
Not Jade next. Please, God, not Jade.
“We’ve got to hope so.” He tried to infuse optimism into the words. “And to keep you safe until then.”
As if it had heard his words and despaired, the engine died.
FOURTEEN
Black despair settled on Micah. He fought it off. He couldn’t let himself think that way. They weren’t done for yet.
Jade shot him a wide-eyed glance. Then she turned the key. The engine answered with a trembling death rattle.
“Don’t bother. I’m afraid that’s it. Poor old lady never let me down before.”
“Are you talking about me or the car?”
Jade’s question was pure bravado, but he was glad to hear it. She wouldn’t give up easily.
“The 4x4, definitely.”
“What do we do now?”
He frowned through the windshield at the road ahead. The snow was finally slacking off, but it lay a foot deep and untracked on the macadam. He weighed the options, not liking any of them.
“Conventional wisdom says to stay with the vehicle, keep warm, wait for help. But this isn’t an ordinary situation. With the engine dead, it’s going to be as cold inside as it is outside in a matter of minutes.”
“You have an emergency kit. I’ve always heard you should light the candle and wrap up in blankets until someone comes.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. Jade was reasonably fit, but she was no athlete. To tramp through the snow took strength.
“We haven’t seen a single vehicle come down this road since we’ve been on it. I’d say the chances of someone coming along to help aren’t too great. And if someone does come along, it might be the people we want least to see.”
She took a breath as that unpalatable truth sank in.
“You think we should start walking.”
She obviously didn’t want to.
“Let’s have a look at the map first and figure out where we are.” He reached across her to yank a highway map from the pocket next to the driver’s seat, flipping it open.
He traced the map with his finger, and she leaned close to watch. Soft curls brushed his cheek, distracting him until he dragged his thoughts back to the problem at hand.
“This is where we were before the accident.” He ran his finger along the winding gray l
ine. “I’m guessing we’ve gotten maybe twenty miles since then.” He tapped the map. “We haven’t reached that crossroads, that’s for sure. And it’s an access road that leads to the interstate, so there ought to be traffic on it.”
“How far do you think it is?”
“Maybe a couple of miles.” Maybe farther, but there was no point in discouraging her.
She glanced up at him, her face so close that his breath hitched. Worry darkened her eyes. “Do you really think you can make it that far? Your head…”
She was afraid for him, not for herself. Emotion gripped his throat, and he tried to speak normally.
“I’m fine. A brisk walk on a winter day will do me good.”
“I doubt that.” But her expression lightened at his reaction, so he must have been convincing. “Well, let’s get going.”
“Not so fast. Preparation is half the battle.” He turned to reach behind the seat, trying to ignore a wave of dizziness. “Let’s see what’s here that we can use.”
It took some maneuvering in the close confines of the vehicle, but he pulled his duffel bag and backpack into the front with them.
“I’m not putting on your sweatpants,” she warned.
“And I’ve already used your T-shirt on your forehead.”
“What do you say to a University of Chicago sweatshirt? Frayed but clean.” He held it out. She shook her head. “I’m fine. You put it on.”
She was still trying to take care of him. He appreciated it even as it irked him. “This parka of mine is good to thirty below. You need the extra layer more than I do.”
Her fingers closed over the sweatshirt reluctantly, but at a stern glance from him she dragged it on over her head. She pulled on her jacket, struggling a bit in the confined space against the steering wheel until he grabbed the hood and pulled it into place, his fingers brushing her cheek.
Oddly reluctant to let go, he tucked her wool muffler carefully around her neck, taking an unnecessary amount of time. “You have a hat and gloves, I hope. That’ll keep your head warmer than just a hood.” His voice was husky.
“In my pocket.” Hers sounded just as husky. He lingered a moment longer. Then, giving in to temptation, he kissed her lips. Lightly, very lightly. But even so, he felt the impact shoot straight to his heart. He pulled back, fighting for control, and busied himself checking the contents of the backpack. “I have water and a few energy bars. You want one before we start?”
