by V. R. Marks
"Dreyer."
"You have kicked over one nasty hornet's nest."
"How bad?"
"Bad. I'm fielding calls right and left here and none of them are of the low profile variety. Allie's friend is trouble with a capital 'T'."
She's in trouble. Rick bit back the instant retort along with the fierce need to defend Nicole.
"Rick?"
"Yeah."
"I mean it. Be careful. This isn't looking good for anyone."
Her uncharacteristic worry fueled his worst suspicions. "I need to dump the car." There was no good place on this rural route that immediately came to mind.
"Please don't tell me that. Don't do that. The paperwork's a nightmare. Just get yourself back to the office, PDQ."
"Fine. But if we're tailed or worse, I'm blaming you."
"Naturally. Wait. What does 'we' mean?"
"What it usually means." He glanced at Nicole, but she was staring out the window, avoiding his gaze. "We'll be on the back roads." He disconnected the call as Eva launched into a tirade worthy of her passionate Italian ancestry.
"She'll call back when she's done being mad at me."
"You two must have quite the work relationship."
"Volatile or not, she's the sort of person you want on your team." It was taking considerable willpower to remember that right now.
The phone let out a shrill cry. He let it ring twice before declining the call. "Let her stew," he groused, irritated beyond all reason by Eva's lousy attitude.
"She's right about me. This is a nasty situation."
"So help me, if you tell me to walk away again, I will pull over and dump you in the trunk. Unless you have someone else tucked away somewhere who can and will help you."
Nicole raised her hands in surrender. "I told you to leave because I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."
For all his bluster, he clearly didn't frighten her. Unfortunately. A little intimidation could be an asset in times like this. He was about to ask her to tell him the whole story when the phone rang again. He scowled at the caller ID before he answered. "You ready to help me?"
"You're a stubborn, hard-headed –"
"All of that is old news, Eva. Give me something helpful here."
"She's with you."
"Yes."
Eva spat out an oath that didn't need translated. "Take me off speaker."
"No." Having an audience wouldn't deter Eva and he wanted Nicole to realize he trusted her.
"Clifton, Stephen R. of the DEA is throwing his weight around in pursuit of the alleged fugitive Nicole Livingston. Wanted for arson, drug trafficking, and conspiracy."
Nicole gasped.
"Told you it was ugly. Stay away from the office. Nothing personal, Ms. Livingston. I got a head's up from a friend that the car registration was just researched and confirmed. You might claim to be with National Insurance, Rick, but they know you're driving a car registered to RC Investigations."
"Dammit." He slammed his fist against the steering wheel.
"That's putting it mildly. You got anywhere to hide?"
"I'll think of something." He had a couple of ideas. It all depended on whether or not they were already being tailed. "I need any pictures you can find of the gang house fire last night."
"Okay."
"Get me whatever you can dig up on Clifton and if his work history coincides with arson events. Big or small."
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not." He didn't have anything more solid than a nagging suspicion anyway. "I'll let you know where we end up."
"I have a place in –" Nicole blurted.
"Don't say it," Eva barked.
Rick cringed. Eva's guarded behavior meant things were likely blowing up all over the place on her end. He looked at his passenger. "It's clean?"
She nodded. "Yes," she said for Eva's benefit.
"Keep me posted on the alternate channel and for God's sake don't get caught. By anyone. I'll coordinate with the boss and send what help I can when I can."
The phone showed the call disconnect and the ensuing silence felt like the weight of the world pressing down on him. He reached out to caress Nicole's shoulder, to offer comfort, but she jerked away.
"I'll get you through this."
"Clifton is his name?"
"You didn't know?"
She shook her head. "They never told me. They never –" her voice hitched "– never brought the case to trial so I never heard his name."
"But you can recognize him?"
"I'll never forget his face. Or what he did."
"They didn't tell you who accused you of setting the fires when you were a kid?"
"Maybe my mother knew, but I was preoccupied with how I was screwing up everyone's life. At that age I didn't want to believe the required anonymity would last forever."
Rick caught sight of a motorcycle in his rear view mirror closing in fast. He glanced down at the dash and kept his speed right at the limit.
"How many times have you been relocated?" Since leaving the Army and working with the investigations team he'd learned kids were particularly hard to keep hidden. They didn't mean to let things slip, but it happened.
"Once it was a bizarre chance meeting with an old friend in our new area. The second time it was a series of small fires."
"With the signature?"
"I wasn't told and I sure as hell didn't go anywhere near them. The fires combined with an escalation of violent activity between local gangs worried WITSEC so they moved us anyway."
The motorcycle blew past them, the driver leaning low into the wind. Any other day Rick might have considered the biker food for speed traps or something equally mundane. Today, the lone biker set off alarms in his head, despite the lack of gang colors or symbols.
"What kind of gang, Nicole? Where did you live when the execution and all of this started?"
He thought of the gang members he'd seen at the fire. They'd been near cars, and he'd been focused on Nicole. He didn't recall any motorcycles.
"I don't know gang names or habits, we didn't have a big gang problem in my community. It was southern California. While I know gangs exist, I've never had a personal encounter."
He swore. There had to be something he was missing. "Go through your pictures of the apartment. And check my iPad for email from Eva."
She started working with her camera. "What are you thinking?"
"Two arsonists." He checked the rear view mirror again. Two headlights, but it wasn't a car. "Two gangs." As they crested a hill, he saw a motorcycle in the oncoming lane. Every instinct told him it was the same bike that passed them moments ago. "One very well-connected and determined rogue DEA agent."
The two lane highway didn't give him much room to maneuver and the bikers had the all the advantages. "Change of plans. Stow the camera and brace yourself."
* * *
"Sir? We've lost her."
"Obviously." Clifton stared at the burned out apartment building, wondering if his quarry had finally snapped and staged an elaborate escape.
"Sir, she's completely in the wind. There isn't a sign of the vehicle since it left the Interstate."
"She'll surface." Clifton refused to look at the agent who'd tackled a nosy photographer only to discover Nicole Livingston, fugitive, in disguise. Whoever she'd conned into helping her was good, but the poor sap had no idea who and what they were up against.
Clifton didn't leave loose ends, but WITSEC had been particularly determined with this little girl. It didn't matter that the prosecutors had been shut down. In his line of work, with the transparency politicians were determined to offer, that could change with the next election or appointment. He couldn't get the official inquiry out of the system entirely and he didn't trust fate to keep the paperwork buried.
Years ago, he'd been offered a golden goose and he meant to cash it out at peak value. Or when things got too hot and forced him out of the game. It's why he kept tabs on the only witness wh
o could tie him to a compromising event.
He'd tried everything to silence her. The repeated failure grated on his pride. When he'd managed to get a look at the limited evidence against him, he'd relaxed his search, realizing the case hinged on her word against his.
He'd kill himself before allowing the testimony of a thirteen-year-old to put him behind bars. Fortunately it wouldn't come to that. She could testify, but even jurors knew eye witnesses broke down all the time. Every year that passed tipped the odds in his favor if they did drag such a cold case into a courtroom.
Still, the click and whir of her camera shutter haunted him. Assuming those pictures had been developed, where had they gone?
His badge and his scowl got him into her charred apartment. He poked through the wreckage, opened cabinets, checked for a fire safe. If she'd stored anything here, it was beyond salvation. He resented the sense of relief.
"She'll surface," he repeated. He knew it as clearly as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. People in nearly every level of government owed him favors. Not even her WITSEC handlers had been able to stop his media blitz and the suspicions he'd heaped on her head. And why would they? They needed her back as much as he did or risk their perfect record of keeping witnesses safe.
Technology and time were on his side. No such thing as privacy anymore with every building wired with video and cameras in almost every hand. Of course he had other assets in play as well. He checked his phone, anticipating an update any minute.
"This woman has caused me enough problems and jeopardized an operation we've worked on for years." It was the line he fed anyone on his team who dared wonder why he monitored this particular 'upright' citizen. "We might not find what we need here."
He picked his way back outside, careful not to scratch his custom eel skin shoes. "But she'll cooperate once she's in custody." He checked the time on his phone. "Widen the search radius another fifty miles."
"Yes, sir."
Let her run, he thought. Let her try to slip through his fingers again. If, by some miracle, she survived the next few hours he'd silence her personally.
* * *
Rick stomped on the accelerator, praying for a break in the trees that hugged the road. "When the car stops, get under the dash and stay there."
If Nicole gave an answer, the sharp rattle of gunfire across the trunk drowned her out. He jerked the wheel right, then back to the left, taking his half of the road out of the middle.
The first bike was nearly on him, riding the center line and playing chicken like a champ. Having a passenger meant Rick had more to lose if he miscalculated, but he also had weight and more metal on his side.
He let those details race through his mind; let the emotions ebb and flow on their own time as he zeroed in on the primary objective: getting Nicole out of this alive.
"Down!" he shouted as the oncoming biker raised a gun. Bullets marched up the hood in a menacing rush and took terrible bites out of the windshield. He held his line, forcing the bike to swerve or become a gory hood ornament.
His mind in tactical battle mode, he checked the mirror and gunned the engine, coordinating his move as they crossed a bridge.
He slammed the brakes and purposely fishtailed, sending the first biker into the cement rail. Dust from the road and smoke from the strain on the tires blurred his view of the other bikes as he straightened the wheel.
Another erratic burst of gunfire came from behind, but Rick had pulled to the shoulder. Shoving the gearshift to reverse, he bullied the protesting transmission and drove backward into the trees as far as he could go.
He cut the engine and readied his weapons as Nicole tucked herself into the relative safety under the dash. He'd defended worse positions down range and lived to never talk about them.
Ideally, he wanted one of the bikers alive enough to tell him about Clifton. Probably wouldn't go down that way, but it was better to think positively.
He heard the motorcycles rev as they closed in. Under that crotch-rocket whine he caught the sound of an agonized scream. So biker one was alive, but likely out of commission. He had to hope the guy was valuable enough to the gang that the other two would want to save him.
Rick eased open his door and slid to the ground, prepared for the inevitable attack. This crew was all urban if the bikes and weapons were any indication. He mentally crossed his fingers they expected him to behave like they would in his place. If he was lucky, that approach would make this as simple as a little extra target practice on a clear day.
* * *
Tucked under the dash, Nicole watched Rick methodically check his guns and roll out of the car. There was an eerie and lethal grace to his movements, as if he dealt with attacks like these every morning. It should probably frighten her. It didn't.
She tried to follow his calm example and breathe, but her heart hammering against her ribs made the exercise difficult. Her thoughts bounced around, riding the surge of adrenaline. She hoped he killed them all, and quickly, and she didn't feel the least bit of guilt over wishing strangers dead. There was an odd clarity in life-threatening situations and frankly, the experience was getting old. Memories of fires past and present flashed through her mind, interspersed with the images collected along the way as she'd repeatedly raced away from danger.
Her body quivered, cramped as it was between the dash and the front seat. The stiff carpet covering the floor was rough against her cheek and the bar to adjust the seat dug into her knee. The heat of the engine filled her nostrils, and she picked up the stale scent of spilled coffee and something else. Gasoline or oil, she couldn't decide, but it was starting to smell more like a machine shop and less like a normal vehicle.
Rick's phone shrilled with an incoming call and she struggled to reach it where it had landed under the seat. Her fingers found a straw wrapper and a pencil before finally securing his phone.
Gunfire blasted and the car shuddered under the abuse. A different gun sounded, quieter but no less lethal. She looked at the supporting structure under the seat and a rare fury bubbled up inside. No way in hell would her last view of this world be so confined, so ordinary.
She twisted around, smacking her head against the dash when another burst of gunfire raked the car. Her fingers fumbled with the door handle, but she got it open and pushed their bags out ahead of her. She waited until she heard Rick's gun and slithered out of the car, staying low.
The damp ground was slick with leaves and they stuck to her hands as she slipped and scrambled deeper into the cover of the trees, dragging his back pack and her book bag along with her.
It wouldn't be a hard trail to follow, but she convinced herself Rick would be the only one able to do so.
Maybe it was being out in the open and the fresh air clearing her head, but the intense battle seemed quieter and slower somehow. A motorcycle eased into her limited view, the muzzle of the gun flashing near the rider's hip.
She saw Rick stand up, his arms stretched forward, gun leveled on the biker.
There was a scream, probably hers, as the bike stood on end, pitching the rider up into the air. Rider, bike, and gun went in different directions, but she didn't see the landing because the car exploded and the blast knocked her back into the trees.
The kaleidoscope of red and orange leaves, a slice of blue sky, and a fluffy cloud was her last view before her world went dark.
It was so much better than the bleak underbelly of a car seat.
* * *
"Enough games," Rick said to himself as he rolled to his feet. Two were down and he couldn't let this last guy get away to report the problems. He fired once, and again, finally blowing out the front tire on the bike. It was a dark high watching the rider, gun, and bike go flying, but his triumphant shout was silenced by the explosion of the car behind him. "Nicole! Get out of there!"
Fire engulfed the back quarter panel furthest from where he'd told her to stay, but flames reached out, greedy for more. Heart in his throat, he berated himself as he raced ar
ound the front end. He should have thought of this, should have prevented it. Should never have put her in this predicament.
"Nicole!" The fire and desperate panic scraped at his throat, He reached the passenger door, bewildered to find it open and Nicole missing.
Relief mixed with confusion. A good thing she hadn't stayed put, but where had she gone?
He backed away as the car continued to burn. He was running out of time. Had to be. Even on the back roads someone would eventually come along and see the mess of bikes and riders. And the car fire might as well be a flare. His need to finish the job and contain their attackers warred with the need to find Nicole.
He looked around for any sign, for a trail, but tracking without technological assistance wasn't his strong suit. Nothing was a strong suit in the face of panic.
Think! He pushed the emotions aside. There hadn't been more than the three bikers. They couldn't have kidnapped her since they didn't know where he might stop. He had to believe she'd left the car on her own and was safe. He prayed he wasn't deluding himself. Talented as this crew was, they wouldn't risk those motorcycles off-road even if they'd anticipated his decision to make a stand rather than try and out run them.
Just a few paces from the car, he crouched down, trying to imagine what had prompted her to leave her position. If he could find the motivator, maybe he could find the trail.
A bullet grazed his back just ahead of the sound of a gun barking. Rick dropped and rolled away, aiming his weapon toward the threat. One of the bikers had enough grit to try and finish the job. "Give me the girl," he said with a sneer.
"Never." Rick pulled the trigger only to hear the click of an empty magazine.
Shit.
"Where is the girl?"
"No idea." Rick assessed, calculating the odds of drawing the snub-nosed revolver from his ankle holster before this kid squeezed off a kill shot. "What do you want with her?"
The biker's knee exploded in a fine spray of blood before he could answer. He screamed and went down like a felled tree, his M-10 automatic machine pistol tumbling toward Rick.
