She lifted her gaze to his, a brief flicker of apprehension in her eyes.
“Just playtime,” he murmured.
Her smile was instant. “Gotcha. Now kiss me nicely.”
“Nicely?” he said, deep and low.
“Not too nicely.”
He was laughing as his mouth brushed hers. But within seconds the sweet taste of bliss lit up their senses, their breathing quickened, the world blurred, and pure, dazzling, heart-pounding desire burst into white-hot lust.
Feverish and frenzied, grabbing handfuls of his hair, she pulled his head closer and kissed him greedily.
He suddenly froze, took a sharp breath, leashed his lust and gently pushed her away. “I’m sorry, but Morrie’s waiting,” he said, quietly, his gaze, clear-eyed, steady. “I have to go.”
A shaky smile. “I know.” But the ache of longing was spinning through her senses, fast and hard, a wild, glorious pleasure pulsing deep inside, lighting her from within.
Her raw desire was palpable; irresistible. It pleased him; it frustrated him. “Look, I’ll cut my meeting short. Half hour tops.”
His voice was strained, his dark brows drawn into a frown, the small tick along his jaw conspicuous. He had responsibilities and she was being selfish. “Go,” she said, forcing herself to speak calmly. “You have a job to do. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
His smile was divine, a gift.
“You’re an angel,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.
She put her hand on his chest to stop him. “Better not. Emotional overload.” She tried to grin and made a mess of it, her lip quivering at the end.
He hesitated, wanting to comfort her, then said, “I won’t be long.”
Chapter 41
Hayes watched Jack’s SUV drive away and suppressed a smile. Sometimes luck just rolled your way.
After finding Jillian’s home deserted, he’d driven to Morgan’s address, saw the SUV in the driveway and had been parked across the highway at the vista point ever since, watching the house through binoculars. He’d seen two men, obviously Morgan’s brothers, and a striking dark-haired woman arrive and leave two hours later. Then the prize he’d hoped for but wouldn’t have bet a nickel on had walked out, gotten into his custom Porsche and driven away.
Coming from Vice where surveillance was SOP, Hayes had chosen an inconspicuous older model sedan for this gig. Although with the number of parked cars in the lot—some high-end machines—along with the crush of tourists busy taking pictures of the village across the bay, he could have parked a red Ferrari in the lot without undue notice. Not that it mattered anymore.
Finally. Time for action.
Even if Morgan was going no further than the village, he couldn’t return to the house in less than twenty minutes. And should he change his mind and turn around, there was still time to make the grab.
In short order Hayes was pulling up onto the sun-parched grass lining the shoulder of the road opposite Morgan’s gate. A quick scan of the rear view mirror, the pavement ahead; empty. Although the frontage road wasn’t public. Those wealthy enough to own ocean front property liked their privacy.
With the clock ticking, Hayes dismissed irrelevancies of wealth and privilege, grabbed a small duffle bag from the passenger seat, stepped out of the car and closed the door. Knowing he might be under scrutiny, he moved swiftly across the road to the gate.
C-4 is highly malleable like modeling clay.
Deftly wrapping a small charge of the putty-like explosive around the lock, Hayes affixed it to the metal with the pressure-sensitive adhesive tape on one side, then re-crossed the road at a run, took refuge behind his car and pressed the detonator.
Before the smoke and debris had fully cleared, he was hurtling the mangled gate and racing for the house. A second later, a short burst of automatic fire blew the door lock and kicking open the wrecked door, Hayes entered the house, his AK up to his shoulder.
The first 9 round hit Hayes square in the chest like a mallet blow.
Shit, Kevlar. Jillian swung the muzzle up to his head.
“Drop your weapon!” Hayes yelled, his AK trained on the woman holding a Glock in a two-handed stance. “Or I’ll take your son!”
Chapter 42
Jack’s cell phone security alert hit him like a punch in the gut.
It took him a nanosecond to flip on the camera shots, see the shattered gate and door.
Fuuuuuck!
Braking hard, he hit the siren and bubble light switches, spun the wheel to the left, punched the accelerator and cranked a burning-rubber U-turn in the middle of traffic on Highway One. Cars scattered before him, drivers hitting the ditches in wild disarray as he jammed the accelerator to the floor, red-lining the speedometer in five seconds flat, his heart thumping in his chest, praying fervently like a newly minted, born-again, true-blue believer.
There aren’t any atheists in fox holes.
No shit.
Sirens screaming, bubble lights flashing, Jack flew through the red semaphore lights in Mendo, deaf to the shrill screech of brakes, his mind elsewhere. “Call Morrie.” He was rocketing across the bridge at Big River when his car’s communication system reached Morrie’s phone. “They’re at my house,” Jack snapped before the sheriff could speak. “Reschedule.” Ending the call, he instantly refocused on sobering reality.
Jillian would be gone. Maybe Zeke too.
And for the first time in his life, he experienced fear. He shook it off; there was no solution in fear. You go to war. Flat out, weapon on full auto.
But with Jillian’s life on the line, he had to dial back his instinct to strike hard and fast. Every detail had to be nailed down in advance. No crazy-ass moves, restraint six ways to Sunday. That meant an intelligent attack plan, even though he knew damned well no plan survived first contact with the enemy. Particularly when Remington held an almost insurmountable advantage.
He had Jillian.
But by sending Hayes rather than Tweedy’s crew, Remington had signaled that while the murder investigation was a problem, every problem had a solution.
Jack got the message.
And he was prepared to give Remington whatever he wanted for Jillian’s freedom.
No fucking art of the deal.
No negotiations.
No haggling.
Name it, it’s yours.
Outside those hard limits, however, he had marginal choices.
Those were the ones no one expected you to take.
Chapter 43
Jillian set the Glock on the console table in the hall so gently Hayes wondered if she was in shock. There wasn’t a flicker of fear in her bright green eyes. Just a hard, thousand-yard stare.
He beckoned with one hand. “Let’s go.”
She shook her head. “I have to call someone to come get my son.”
Astonished, it took him a moment to process her remark. “No calls.”
“Then I won’t go willingly.” She’d learned young to stand up for herself. When something mattered enough or choices were limited. This was one of those times.
“I don’t give a shit if you do or not,” Hayes growled, moving toward her, his AK resting against his hip trained on her. “I’ll hog-tie you.”
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she thumbed the call icon for Jack.
Hayes lunged for her phone, jerked it from her grasp, hit end before the call dialed. “Are you retarded?” he snapped, nudging her with the AK muzzle. “I could shoot you.”
“But you won’t, or you would have already. So?” Aware that she was a pawn in whatever game Jack was involved in, she coolly pointed at her phone. “Let me text Emily. Come on, Zeke’s only two.” She didn’t know whether this guy cared that Zeke would be left alone, but she had to try.
He blew out a breath. “Later.”
Concealing her relief, she asked, “When later?”
“Soon. Now, could we fucking go? Or do I have to tie you up?”
“I’ll go. But try and pull the
door shut. I worry about Zeke getting too close to the ocean cliff, although there’s a fence, but still, he might try—oh thanks, I appreciate it.”
Hayes was dragging the wrecked door across the tile with one hand and motioning her forward with the AK. As she reached him, he pushed her through the door, pushed it semi-shut, then grasping her arm firmly, marched her up the drive.
Thinking she might figuratively soothe the wild beast by engaging him in conversation, she glanced up. “I understand you and Jack have some issues,” she said, pleasantly.
“Not me.” Either she was a nut case or had nerves of steel, Hayes decided, although knowing Morgan’s taste in women it could be both. Rumor had it he fucked anything.
“Your employer must have issues with Jack, then. I was just wondering if you knew when I’d be back. My son will worry if I’m gone too long. Two-year-olds aren’t very reasonable.”
She was one nerveless chick. “Out of my pay grade, lady. I just follow orders. Watch your head,” he said, shoving her into the back seat. Pulling out a zip-tie, he muttered, “Hands,” cuffed her, shut the door and a moment later slid behind the wheel.
“Is this a ransom thing?”
He shot her a look as he fired up the ignition. She was relaxed against the door, her legs stretched out on the seat, ankles crossed, a faint smile on her face. Fuck, that was swagger. And for the first time he actually looked at her. A real drop dead beauty, head to toe even in jeans and a T-shirt; he could see why Morgan was interested.
“Is it?” she repeated. “Ransom? I’m not sure Jack has that kind of money.”
“You better hope he does.” Hayes exited the frontage road onto Highway One.
“That sounds ominous. Am I supposed to be frightened?”
He shrugged. “Be anything you want.”
So much for that conversational thread; he wasn’t much of a talker. Back to essentials; to Zeke’s safety. “You said I could call Emily. When exactly?”
“A few minutes.”
“Thank you,” she said, deeply grateful. She’d been quietly freaking out, afraid he’d lied to get her in the car. “That’s very kind of you.”
He grunted. He couldn’t remember when someone had called him kind. A lifetime ago.
She braced herself as he took a curve at high speed. “Aren’t you driving a little fast?”
“You a schoolteacher?” That particular tone was from a lifetime ago, too.
A small hint of humanity; not to be wasted. “I was. Budget cuts. I loved teaching grade school. The children were so full of joy and optimism. Most of them anyway. Where did you go to school?”
“Nebraska.”
“Where in Nebraska?”
“Small no-name town in the middle of nowhere.” He didn’t like those memories. Nothing good had happened to him there. “Decide what you’re going to text your friend,” he said, curtly. “Five word limit. We’re stopping soon.”
A few minutes later, he turned into the Navarro Ridge viewing site. Two men guarded the entrance, young, ordinary looking, dressed in hiking gear, nothing to alarm anyone. But they’d kept the lot free of sightseers, so the sleek helicopter parked on the tarmac wasn’t disturbed. Pulling up to the chopper, Hayes helped Jillian out of the back seat, turned the car over to the two men and held her phone so she could send her text. “I’m watching so don’t fuck up or your kid’s gonna be alone at Morgan’s house.”
She looked up. “You do it.”
He shook his head.
Using her index finger she pulled up Em’s number, keyed in Pick Zeke up at Jack’s and looked up. “Okay?”
After a glance at the screen, Hayes nodded.
She punched send.
Hayes dropped the phone on the tarmac, crushed it with his boot, signaled the pilot to fire up the engine and five minutes later, the chopper rose into a clear blue sky. After circling out to sea, the aircraft slowly gained cruising altitude, then flew a southward course down the coast.
The sedan was left behind, wiped clean, the plates gone, the serial numbers erased long ago.
Chapter 44
Jack was pushing aside the broken door when his phone rang. After a quick glance at the caller ID, his brows spiked and he hit the answer icon.
“Zeke’s at your house,” Em said, her tone uneasy. “I had a text from Jillian. What’s going on?”
“Did she say where she was?” A futile question, but he had to ask.
“You mean she’s not there?” Em’s voice hit the stratosphere. “Is Zeke alone?”
“I don’t know. I just got home.” The silence was worrying though. “Let me call you back.”
“Call me the second you know! That’s an order!”
“I will, yes, yes, I know, don’t worry, I promise,” he murmured, quickly moving down the hallway as Em bombarded him with panicky demands. “Give me a couple minutes. I’ll get back to you.”
He understood her panic. He’d prayed not long ago for the same reason. But Jillian wouldn’t have sent the text if Zeke wasn’t here, right? Still, the door had been slightly ajar, Zeke had been known to go on adventures, and with the ocean cliff behind the house… Jack broke into a run. Seconds later, quietly opening his bedroom door, he took in the idyllic image of the rosy-cheeked toddler sleeping in the middle of his king-size bed and softly exhaled.
By some miracle Zeke had slept through the violence. Although it helped that the ocean-side bedroom was well away from the front door. The reason, he suspected, that Jillian had chosen her defensive position. To better protect her son. She’d gotten off a couple shots too; he’d seen the 9mm shell casings on the floor.
Mama Bear in action.
Impressive stuff.
She was amazing; a one of a kind, no-drama woman, sweet as hell, and tough. The result of her difficult childhood perhaps, or difficult marriage. Or just a character trait that had given her the strength to face challenges undaunted. Far too many challenges of late. Including this fiasco that could be laid at his door.
If the kidnapping hadn’t totally wrecked his chances with her, once she was free, he’d make sure she was protected from any further harm; from all the small, daily desperations that had plagued her.
Although he wouldn’t blame her if she told him to fuck off.
He should have taken better care of her. If he’d kept his distance til this murder investigation was over, she wouldn’t have become Remington’s get-out-of-jail-free card. His selfishness had made her the ultimate gift.
Jesus, just imagining her prisoner of those scumbags made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What if Tweedy’s men touched her? Or did worse than touch her. The brutal possibilities froze the blood in his veins. And the crazy in him started to build in the back reaches of his brain--a flash point of fury that spread into a murderous rage so vivid and surreal he might have been standing in one of Dali’s melting landscapes watching his humanity leak away.
He’d send every one of those motherfuckers to hell. Tweedy, his asshole posse, Hayes, Remington, the invisible partners who pretended the dope game was just another business. He’d hunt them down, and take them out. No deal, no trial, no mercy.
Are you out of your fucking mind, his voice of reason growled. You wage that kind of war, people you don’t want hurt might get hurt. Take it down a damn notch. You want to free Jillian, not get her blown away in the cross-fire. You hear?
Jack grunted, the sound somewhere between fuck you and fuck me.
Shit. Restraint was unnatural for him. Hit’em fast. Hit’em hard. Never stop or you’re the target. But this time Jillian was the target, he was accountable; he had to make it right. Profoundly aware that if he fucked this up, it could be tragic, he shut down his normal response to threat. Instead, he had to play nice. The price was too high if he didn’t.
So until Jillian was safe, stay on mission.
He called Em.
When Larry answered, Jack explained the situation in edited form. Larry knew better than to ask for details;
he just said, “We’ll be right over. Do you want us to stay there or take Zeke to our house. I’m not telling you what to do, but he’ll be more comfortable here. It’s familiar.”
“Agreed. Twenty-five minutes?”
“Less. I still have that bubble light.”
Larry had helped out the sheriff’s department on special occasions years ago when Morrie had been working with a minimum staff. Marine Corps retired, Larry knew how to deal with trouble.
Next, Jack pulled up a chair outside his bedroom door so he’d hear Zeke when he woke up, texted Ray, Wade and Morrie and brought them up to speed.
Last, he walked away from the door and called Morrie. He needed to speak directly to him so he understood that Jillian’s release was a one man operation.
No surprise, Morrie shouted, “Are you insane? You can’t go alone!”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Wait, wait, lemme think…at least let me call in some support.”
“No. The swat teams’ll go in all guns blazing like some crazy-ass scene from a movie and that kind of fucking undisciplined fire is gonna hurt someone. I won’t put Jillian at risk. So make sure they stay the fuck away from me. I don’t care what nit-picking legal shit they throw at you or how badly they want to play ninja warriors, I’m negotiating this one alone. My girl, my terms--or no terms.”
“Christ, you can’t let Remington go.”
“Fuck if I can’t. You just make sure everyone understands, Morrie. They screw this up, something happens to Jillian, I’m coming after them. My hand to fucking God.”
The sheriff groaned. “What do I tell the AG?”
“Tell him whatever the fuck will keep him off my back. Look, I gotta go. Zeke just woke up.”
“Be careful.”
“I always am,” Jack said.
“You never are.”
Tapping the end icon, Jack shoved his phone in his pocket, pushed open the bedroom door and smiled. “Hey, Zeke, how you doin? Feel like helping Sam and me get my motorcycle going?”
Zeke’s sat bolt upright, his eyes like saucers. “Me ride? Mommie too?”
A Fine Balance Page 27
