For His Eyes Only

by T C Archer

  “You should have come quietly, Jesse,” the shooter said. “If not for our friend here,” he jerked Cole back, “we would’ve had you.”

  Jesse looked past Cole’s broad shoulder at the shooter, who stood five nine, with a little flab on his arms and the beginnings of a spare tire around his waist. The guy talked tough, but his fear cut through the air. In any case, if she made a move, Cole would die.

  “You can’t kill him and shoot me before I get to you,” she told the guy.

  His gaze flicked to the gash in her arm, then back at her face. “The drug’s already working. In twenty seconds, you won’t be a factor.”

  “You’ll kill him anyway.” Jesse saw Cole’s fists clench, but kept her focus on the shooter, hoping the cowboy had sense enough to keep cool. “Leave no witnesses.” It was a shot in the dark, but maybe she’d strike a nerve.

  The man’s mouth twisted in an arrogant smile, and Jesse flicked a disgusted look at his Steyr nine millimeter. The fool thought he could play with the big boys. He didn’t understand that Lanton’s leave no witnesses rule would eventually come to roost on his doorstep and he’d never see it coming.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I have a car parked on the street. You’re going to walk over there, then your friend here will tie you up in the back seat.”

  Jesse snorted, as much to clear her mind of the drug as in derision. “And you’ll just let him go.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t do—” Cole began.

  “Shut up!” she snapped. “I’m tired of running.”

  The shooter kept fifteen feet between them until Jesse reached a Pontiac Starfire parked under a burned out streetlight.

  “Stop,” he said. “Get in.”

  Jesse faced him. “Time to renegotiate. Once I’m tied up, there’s nothing to stop you from killing him. I might as well run now.”

  “Try and I’ll shoot you first.” He swung the pistol toward her.

  She ducked, lunging forward as the gun fired. Searing pain passed through her shoulder. Before he could squeeze off another round, she tackled him, with Cole sandwiched between them. She seized the hand gripping the gun, wrenching the wrist back in a grip that would cripple a boxer. A snap of bone sounded, and the pistol fell from his grasp. Cole elbowed him in the ribs and twisted from his hold as Jesse leaped to her feet and kicked the man below the ribcage. The shooter gasped. Cole sprang up, wheezing. Jesse’s vision blurred and she reared backward.

  “You all right?” he demanded.

  Her attention snapped onto the tiny movement of the shooter’s left hand at his side. Cole must have seen it as well. He stepped toward the shooter, but she jumped between them, knocking Cole back. The shooter flipped open a French switchblade and sliced through her jeans in one movement, opening a long wound down her leg. She reeled.

  A strong hand closed around her shoulder and yanked her back. She whirled, brought a fist up, but tumbled onto the sidewalk. In a blur, she saw Cole kick the knife from the shooter’s hand, then throw a punch that cracked so loudly it penetrated the ringing in her ears. Cole approached her, but vanished in a world of black.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jesse awoke to sunlight shining through thin ivory colored curtains opposite her. She bolted upright. Her gaze caught on a pile of bloody surgical instruments lying in disarray on a rolling aluminum tray near the foot of the hospital bed where she lay.

  “Easy now,” came a male voice to her right.

  She jerked her head to face the speaker who sat in a chair beside her. Through a blurry haze, Jesse took in the sandy blond hair, the angular features of his face, and quizzical blue eyes, but found nothing familiar about this man. A flutter brushed the inside of her stomach. Muscular arms were crossed over a broad chest, and jean-clad legs stretched to where ankle was crossed over ankle in a causal manner that bellied the power in his size.

  The fog in her mind persisted, but she forced a calm voice. “Where am I?”

  “Relax, Jesse.” His soft drawl moved over her like a cool mist. “You’re safe.”

  She tensed. This stranger knows my name—my real name. She grabbed his lapel and pulled his face close to hers. “Who are you?”

  He placed a hand over hers. Warm fingers disengaged her fist with gentle pressure. “Take it easy.” He released her. “You’ve had a rough night.”

  Rough night? The events of last night flooded back in jumbled images. The alley, the hoodlums, the woman…Jesse focused on the man who had attempted to rescue her. Attempted—hell—he had rescued her.

  She relaxed back against the pillow and gingerly touched her jaw. The bruise felt like she’d been battered by a prizefighter. “Who hit me?” She winced even as memory of the woman’s fist materialized with painful vividness.

  Cole shook his head in a slow, somber movement. “I don’t know, but by the looks of your face, they packed quite a wallop.”

  Jesse surveyed the rest of the room, typical of a doctor’s examination room; tile floor, white walls, small sink and counter, x-ray backlight fixture. “Where are we?”

  “The office of Doctor Charles Rayburn,” he replied. “A long-time friend.”

  She touched the bandage on her left shoulder. “How did he do on the patch job?”

  “Not bad, considering he’s a general practitioner, not a surgeon. The bullet went clear through, so he didn’t have to dig it out. Made things a lot easier.”

  Jesse pulled back the sheet which covered her to the waist. The right leg of her jeans had become cut-offs. Taped gauze encircled her right thigh and shin. “How bad was it?”

  “Looks worse than it is. Only seventeen stitches.” He shook his head. “You’ve got nine lives, Jesse.”

  Yeah, and she’d used up half of them. “Why didn’t he call the police?”

  Cole shrugged. “He’s doing me a favor.”

  “He must owe you.”

  “He’s an old family friend. Now I owe him, big time.”

  Jesse laughed, grimacing at the jar to her head. “We’re not in Texas, are we?”

  “Upper Westchester County, New York.”

  “Upper Westchester? Where in upper Westchester?”

  “Pleasantville.”

  “Where’s the doctor?” she asked.

  “He got an emergency call from the hospital.”

  “How did you get me here?”

  “The Starfire.”

  The tall Texan didn’t look the type to commit grand theft auto. “No car of your own?” she asked.

  “I have a rental, but took the train into the city. I’m visiting a friend.”

  This was getting complicated. “What friend?”

  “A Navy buddy.”

  “You’re an officer?” she asked.

  “Was. A Lieutenant. I worked as an aid.”

  That explained his lack of fighting skills. Surprising, considering his size—though he had handled the shooter well. “And you were lucky enough to be walking down Seventh Avenue last night. What were you doing there?”

  “Liberty-versus-Indiana.” His grin went lopsided, and she startled at the jump in her pulse. “I went to the game at Madison Square Garden,” he added.

  “And you didn’t catch the subway from Penn Station?”

  Cole looked sheepish. “It’s hotter in the bowels of New York City than the worst day in Dallas.”

  “So you decided to walk from Midtown to…” She raised a questioning brow.

  “Grand Central.”

  “You’d rather face the thugs who walk above ground then the heat below?”

  His blue eyes locked with hers. “What were you doing there?”

  “The thugs above ground don’t bother me,” she replied.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t care for crowds.”

  “What were you doing in that alley to begin with?”

  She snorted. “Being stupid.
”

  He gave her a you got that right look, then said, “You could have left me there.” His tone suggested that’s what he had expected.

  Jesse started to demand an explanation, then realized he’d probably heard how New Yorkers weren’t the neighborly sort like those from his home state. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes against the dull ache radiating from her shoulder. Whatever the doctor had given her for pain had nearly worn off.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry. Has this doctor of yours got anything to eat around here?”

  He gave no immediate response and she started to open her eyes when something cold and wet touched her hand. She recoiled, her eyes snapping open. “What the—” A beast of a dog, a German shepherd, nuzzled her hand.

  “That’s quite a compliment,” Cole said, rubbing the dog above its collar. “Lancelot doesn’t like just anyone.”

  “He’s magnificent.” Jesse buried her fingers in the plush black fur on the back of his neck.

  A fierce intelligence gleamed through the canine’s dark eyes. She was instantly captivated. He regarded her with a calm, self-assured manner which said he understood her infatuation and would tolerate it.

  “Is he yours?” Jesse asked.

  “No. He belongs to Charlie.”

  She paused in her massage of Lancelot’s neck and looked up to find Cole staring.

  “What were you doing in New York?” he asked.

  A strange tremor rippled through her. Maybe it was the way his deep blue eyes remained fastened on her, or the way he asked the question as if he knew her that made her want to keep him up deep into the night as she rode him until they both exploded. His fingers would be warm and sure around her waist as he slammed her down on him over and over. She jerked from the erotic picture. If they were anywhere but here, anywhere but now…

  Jesse returned her attention to the dog. “The less you know the better. It’s too bad you happened by when you did.”

  “Afraid I’ll cramp your style?”

  She couldn’t help a chagrinned laugh. “Chances are you saved my life, despite your efforts to the contrary.”

  “Hey!” he said.

  She met his gaze. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but—”

  Lancelot twisted his neck to the right and let out a low woof.

  Jesse riveted her attention onto the window Lancelot stared at. She looked back at Cole. “Where is everyone, patients, nurses?”

  “We’re the only ones here. Charlie is the resident, on-call at the hospital today. The office is closed.”

  Lancelot woofed again.

  Jesse swung her legs over the edge of the bed and gave Lancelot a quieting pat on the head as she stood. “Shh, boy.”

  The dog’s attention remained fixed on the window.

  A chill ran up her spine. “Dammit, Cole.” She crept toward the window, wincing as the stitches in her leg pulled at her flesh. “It never occurred to you taking the Starfire was a bad idea?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jesse stopped beside the window.

  “I suppose I should have left you to bleed to death?” Cole demanded.

  An unexpected hint of savagery laced his voice. She looked across the bed at him. His face was impassive, and Jesse decided she had misread what was probably fear.

  “Leaving me would have been the wiser of the choices. How long has Rayburn been gone?”

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  Jesse carefully turned back a corner of the curtain and peered outside. Shrubs hid three quarters of the window from outside view. She looked past the shrubs and across an open expanse of manicured lawn to a two story, brick colonial with a sunroom.

  “That’s Rayburn’s house?”

  “Yes,” Cole replied.

  Lancelot growled. Jesse looked at him, but he didn’t acknowledge her. His attention had shifted to the door opposite the window.

  “What’s outside the door?” she asked.

  “A hallway. There are two other examination rooms, a bathroom, then the waiting room.”

  “How many doors leading into the building?”

  “Two.”

  “I assume the good doctor doesn’t believe in weapons?”

  “Only those.” Cole motioned to the surgical instruments.

  “Well, well.” She cast last glance at the seemingly deserted yard before releasing the curtain. “Those might come in handy.”

  She crossed to the tray. Several pieces of unused gauze lay in a pile. Lancelot trotted to her side as she snatched a bit of gauze and quickly wiped blood from a wicked looking blade.

  Jesse held up the instrument. “What is this?”

  Cole shrugged. “Charlie used it to probe your shoulder for bullet fragments.”

  She grimaced and dropped the dirty gauze on the tray. “Glad he’s on our side.” She set the knife down, then picked up a scalpel. This she’d used before.

  “What’s going on?” Cole demanded.

  Jesse paused and met his gaze. “Taking the Starfire was a bad idea, Cole.”

  His mouth tightened. “Someone followed us.”

  “It would seem so.”

  “If there were others, why didn’t they stop me last night?”

  “Who knows what makes those bastards tick?” Her gut tensed as she picked up the knife. She happened to be one of those bastards. What made her tick?

  “Why not just kill us?” Cole asked.

  “Me, they want alive,” Jesse replied, gripping the handle of the scalpel to judge its balance. “At least, for a while. It’s you that worries me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, there’s no time to explain—”

  He surprised her by vaulting over the bed. Lancelot darted aside as Cole landed two steps away. He lunged, grabbed her wrist, and Jesse allowed him to yank her face to within an inch of his.

  “Take the time,” he ordered.

  She glanced at Lancelot, who stared as if to encourage her to go on. Jesse looked back at Cole. “All right, bottom line: there’s someone I can hurt very badly, and he’s trying to hurt me first.”

  “That’s not very original.”

  “It’s the truth. This isn’t a petty squabble. You saw how far they’ll go.”

  Cole’s expression darkened. “You’re saying last night was a set-up?”

  “Those people were paid to lure me into the alley and shoot me with the trank.” He looked as if he would say something more, but she needed to end this now. “We can stand here all day discussing it, or we can stop whoever’s out there. Chances are, they aren’t aware we know they’re here.”

  Cole released her, and she allowed her grip on the knife at her side to relax.

  “Your shoulder and leg will slow you down,” he said.

  She gave a frustrated shake of her head. “These wounds aren’t serious enough to keep me from leaving.” He appeared about to object before she added, “I can’t leave you here. Taking off would leave you at their mercy—and they don’t have any.”

  “Won’t they go after you and forget about me?”

  Jesse leveled her gaze on him. “They won’t leave without making sure you’re dead.”

  “Leave no witnesses,” he said without batting an eye.

  Jesse nodded.

  Cole nodded toward her shoulder. “How do you plan to karate chop anyone with a shoulder wound and a gashed leg?”

  She smiled and pulled her ponytail tight. “Worried about me?” A flicker of surprised anger flashed in his eyes. Jesse frowned. “Is something wrong, Cole?”

  He snorted. “What could possibly be wrong? I’m trapped with a wanted criminal—” he stopped, and Jesse knew it was because the expression on her face had gone cold.

  She hadn’t said she was wanted for a crime. What did he know about her? “I told you I was sorry you got mixed up in this.” She started for the door. “Next time, mind your own business.” Cole started to follow, but stopped when she whirled. “Wher
e are my shoes?”

  He circled the bed and pulled the sneakers from under the chair. He tossed them at her. Jesse caught them without taking her eyes off him. They stared at one another for a moment, then she sat down on a stool by the door, gripped the scalpel in her teeth, and slipped on the sneakers.

  Grabbing the knife, she rose. “Stay here.”

  Jesse pressed an ear against the door, and listened. Nothing. She grasped the doorknob and turned. The latch clicked free and she opened the door half an inch. Their examination room lay at the end of a hallway, with two doors on the left, and one farther down on the right. The hallway then made a sharp right turn. Jesse glanced at the bottom of the doors on the left and right. No shadows blocked the natural light that spilled beneath them.

  “Lancelot,” she called softly, patting her uninjured leg. The dog trotted to her side. “Come on, boy,” she whispered, “let’s see if you can sniff out any rats.” She sensed Cole’s approach and glanced back. “Stay put.”

  He mumbled something under his breath, but halted. Jesse sighed. Blue Team operatives generally worked alone. On occasion, teams were assembled for assignments outside the charter. She had commanded such a mission and the men hadn’t taken to a female leader. She could imagine how Cole must feel. He probably hadn’t imagined a woman like her existed, much less considered the possibility he’d take orders from one.

  Lancelot followed her as they approached the first door on the left. The dog remained calm. They neared the second door, and still no growls. The same with the last door on the right. She looked back at Cole and motioned for him to follow.

  He reached her side and bent his ear so close his breath washed over her cheek as she whispered, “Wait here. I’ll see what’s ahead.”

  He straightened and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and brows raised. Jesse grasped Lancelot’s collar and started forward. They reached the end of the hall. She stopped and peered around the edge of the wall. Straight ahead, half of the waiting room lay visible. She spotted the building’s main entrance. Where was the other exit? Jesse glanced at the dog. He remained impassive. She waved Cole forward. He tread lightly in those damned cowboy boots and came up alongside.