Quinn

by Iris Johansen

  “We’ll take turns. Three hours. Leave the connecting door open.” She sat down on the bed. “My internal clock is pretty good. Will you need me to wake you?”

  “I believe I can manage.” His lips turned up at the corners as he turned out the light and headed toward the door. “I can always use my phone alarm. But if I fall down on the job, by all means shake me.”

  “And then you’d probably grab me and break my neck.” She pulled the sheet over her and closed her eyes. “I’ll be careful…”

  CHAPTER

  15

  GALLO CROSSED TO THE CONNECTING door and looked at Catherine curled up under the covers like a cat.

  She was sleeping hard, having gone to sleep within five minutes of the time that she had pulled the sheet over her two hours ago. Her breathing was light and steady, and her sleep was deep and sound. Yet he’d bet that if she sensed anything that was unexpected, she’d be awake in a heartbeat.

  As he would be, Gallo thought. Her CIA training and his years in the Rangers had given them both a military mind-set that would probably remain with them the rest of their lives. Now it was strange thinking of Catherine as a soldier. Her competence was superlative, beyond question; but he could no longer think of her as the hunter who had stalked him through the forest.

  He was too aware of her as a woman.

  Shit, aware? Understatement.

  He had trouble looking at her and not remembering her naked, wet, and shimmering in the sunlight. When she had come out of the water, there had been drops of water on her breasts and nipples, and he had wanted to bend down and lick them, make them taut and ready. Then move between her legs and put his hands—

  Hell, he was getting hard just thinking about that moment.

  And this moment, too.

  She was lying there helpless, asleep, and there was a catlike grace about her. But like a cat, he could imagine her moving beneath him, fierce, sensual, springing forward and taking what she wanted.

  As she had wanted to do at the lake. Dammit, she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her.

  Stop. Block it as he had done since they had started in search of Jacobs. So what if he wanted her more than any woman he’d wanted in years? Screwing her wouldn’t be good for either one of them.

  Wouldn’t be good? What was he thinking? It would be fantastic.

  Maybe in the short term, but she didn’t deserve any more complications. God knows, he was too scarred to have a decent relationship with any woman. He had come close to almost destroying Eve years ago.

  And Bonnie?

  But Catherine had said he hadn’t destroyed Bonnie.

  He closed his eyes as the pain washed over him. God, he hoped Catherine was right, that he hadn’t accepted what she had said because he wanted it to be so. But for that reason alone, he should be thinking of Catherine with gratitude and not as a sexual object.

  Not likely. He was too damn selfish, and he wanted her too much.

  But he could perhaps put off moving to satisfy that selfishness for a little while.

  Keep busy. Find Jacobs.

  His lids flipped open, and he turned away from the door and moved toward the window in his room.

  Let that Mercedes be there.

  He pulled back the drape. No Mercedes in the lot, dammit. Where the hell was the—

  But he caught a glimpse of silver out of the corner of his eye.

  Around the side of the hotel, in the far parking lot. He took his binoculars out of his suitcase. Be sure.

  A shadowy figure at the wheel. Light shirt, dark hair, brawny shoulders. No reason for anyone to be sitting in the parking lot at one in the morning.

  Jason or Nixon?

  It didn’t matter.

  He let the drapes fall back, turned, and glided silently toward the door to the hall.

  Prey.

  * * *

  CATHERINE WOKE with a start.

  Darkness. Silence. Something was wrong.

  No Gallo.

  She swung her feet to the floor and jumped out of bed.

  She ran into his bedroom. She hadn’t expected him to be there. But his suitcase was open and on the bed. Binoculars on the table by the window.

  She grabbed them and thrust the drapes aside.

  “Damn you, Gallo.” She lifted the glasses and scanned the parking lot. Nothing.

  No, to the far side …

  She threw the binoculars down, ran back to her room, and slipped on her shoes.

  Then she was running out of the room. No time for the elevator. She took the steps two at a time as she ran down to the lobby and out onto the parking lot.

  She stopped short.

  Gallo and a dark-haired man were wrestling on the ground beside the driver’s side of the Mercedes.

  As she watched, Gallo flipped him over and climbed astride him. His arm encircled the man’s neck. Gallo’s face was flushed, his lips pulled back and revealing his teeth. Savage, animalistic anger and something close to bloodlust twisted his features. She remembered he had killed Paul Black with that very hold.

  “Gallo,” she said through her teeth. “Don’t you kill him until we find out what we need to know.”

  He looked up at her, and, for a moment, she thought he would ignore her. Then he drew a deep breath, and his arm loosened from around the man’s neck. “I’m not going to kill him … yet.” He jerked a knife from the man’s grasp. “He nicked me and made me a little upset.”

  She could see the blood on Gallo’s forearm. Nick seemed a good description for the wound. “He didn’t hurt you.” She came forward and stood over Gallo and the man. “And if he did, you deserved it, you bastard. You left me without a word.” Her gaze shifted to the man who was glaring up at her. “Who is he? Nixon or Jason?”

  “Why don’t we ask him?” Gallo pressed the edge of knife against the man’s throat. “Answers. I want answers. Name?”

  “Humphrey.”

  The knife brought blood. “Name?”

  “Nixon.”

  “Very good. Now, where is Thomas Jacobs?”

  “I don’t know.” He gasped with the pain as the knife bit again. “I tell you, I don’t know. He hired me to watch his place and report back to him. He was expecting you to go after him when he heard about Queen’s death.”

  “Report back? And that’s all?”

  “For the time being. There might have been additional work later. He was going to consider it.” His lips curled. “I don’t think the son of a bitch could afford me. I wouldn’t have even taken the job if I hadn’t been having a slow month.”

  “A ‘slow month,’” Catherine repeated. “What constitutes a ‘slow month’ in the assassination game, Nixon?”

  “Where is Jacobs?” Gallo asked again. “One minute.”

  “He was stalling me. He said he’d decide in two days,” Nixon went on quickly, his gaze on the knife. “That probably meant he had to find a way to score before he could pay me. He did it once before when he had me take care of one of the bosses at a casino in Atlantic City. The bastard always thought he could beat the tables. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t. But he was always sure he was going to make the big score.”

  “That’s not enough,” Gallo said. “More. Jacobs is going to have to disappear for a while, and it’s going to take cash. He’d need money to pay you and to find a place to lie low from the police. Where would he go to get the money?”

  “How do I know? He didn’t—” He cursed as the blood started to run down his neck as Gallo’s knife bit deep. “Maybe New Orleans. He told me once he lost his shirt in Atlantic City and the pit bosses were all crooks. He said that next time, he was going back to New Orleans, where he always won big.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “Six months ago.”

  “Not when he set you up to do this job?”

  “No, he didn’t mention anything.”

  Gallo looked at Catherine. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I think he
’s telling the truth.”

  “I’m not sure.” His grasp tightened on the knife.

  Nixon gasped. “Let me go. I’ll find out for sure and set him up for you. What good is it going to do you to slit my throat?”

  “Good point,” Catherine said. “Let him make a call and see if Jacobs trusts him enough to tell him what we need to know.”

  “Pity.” Gallo took the knife away and got to his feet. “I was beginning to enjoy myself.”

  Nixon hurriedly sat up. “You’ll let me go if I get you what you want?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Gallo said.

  “We don’t need him. He’s not going to call Jacobs back and tip our hand.” She stared Nixon in the eye. “Because he knows we’d be after him and never give up. It wouldn’t be good business, would it, Nixon?”

  “No.” He moistened his lips. “I don’t care about Jacobs. Why should I?”

  “You shouldn’t care. As I said, it’s not good business.” She backed away from him. “Get in your car and turn the speaker on your phone so that Gallo can hear loud and clear.” She turned to Gallo. “I’ll take a turn around the parking lot and make sure that we haven’t disturbed any of the hotel employees or guests while you keep Nixon company.”

  “Why should they be disturbed? I was very quiet. He didn’t even scream.” He opened the driver’s door and smiled. “But I agree that I should be the one to babysit him. We’ve grown so close we’re almost like family.”

  “Family? Maybe the Borgias.” She moved away from the car and strolled across the parking lot. She doubted if their encounter with Nixon had attracted attention. It had seemed to go on for a long time, but it had actually taken only a few moments. It was the middle of the night, but there was always the chance that someone had glanced out the window. Or that a motel employee had come out for a cigarette. At any rate, she had to check out possible problems before they erupted to become real problems.

  They had to move fast to find Jacobs and certainly didn’t need trouble with the police.

  She was striding back to the Mercedes ten minutes later. Nixon was just hanging up his cell phone. She glanced at Gallo. “Well?”

  “New Orleans. Cadalon Casino,” Gallo said. “He was on his way to the airport. Jacobs promised Nixon that he’d have his blood money by day after tomorrow.” He added, “Actually, Nixon handled it very well. He displayed a wonderful mixture of greed and venom. Jacobs didn’t suspect a thing.”

  “You said I could go,” Nixon said. “You know where Jacobs is heading. I did everything you asked.”

  “That’s true,” Gallo said. “But it was really Catherine who said we’d let you go. I really don’t approve of—”

  “Let him go,” Catherine said. “We don’t have time to deal with him.”

  Gallo shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He stepped back and gestured to Nixon. “Run along. Frankly, I’d make time to deal with you, but if we experience any backlash, I may still get my way.”

  Nixon muttered a curse, but he was frantically starting the car and screeching out of the parking space.

  Gallo was gazing regretfully after him. “You know that he’ll come after us eventually?”

  “But it will take time for him to get over the first intimidation,” Catherine said. “You frightened him.” She turned away as Nixon peeled out of the parking lot. “I can see why Queen thought you were so valuable when you worked for him as a special agent. He said that there were moments when you were like an ancient Viking with the bloodlust on you. He called you a berserker. You can be—” She stopped, searching for the right word.

  “Frightening?” He fell into step with her as she moved toward the glass door. “Did I frighten you, Catherine?”

  “No.” She opened the door. “But I found it interesting to watch you. I couldn’t decide whether you were bluffing or if you really wanted to kill him.”

  “I don’t bluff. Nixon is scum. Would I have cut his throat?” He smiled recklessly. “You seem to think I’m better than I think I am. So I believe I’ll let you wonder.”

  “You’re good with a knife. Is that your weapon of choice?”

  “I find it effective. Most people have experience with being cut and fear it. Guns are more impersonal. What about you?”

  “Sometimes a knife is necessary, but I prefer being impersonal.” She added, “Except when I’m dealing with someone I hate.”

  “Like Rakovac?”

  She nodded. “I would have made him suffer as much as a victim of the Spanish Inquisition if I’d had the time. I wanted to take it slow.”

  “If you run across a similar situation, let me know. I’ve learned a lot from personal experience about the methods the Inquisition used in that period. I’ll be glad to share.” He started up the stairs. “I’ll call and make our airline reservations to New Orleans.”

  He stopped before entering his room. “Nixon should really have been eliminated. You know it as well as I do. It goes against your professionalism and my good judgment. Why?”

  Because she hadn’t wanted to see Gallo do it. Yes, Nixon was scum and would cause them trouble, but she was holding on to her faith in Gallo by a very tentative grip. She had not been shocked by Gallo’s savagery, but it had made her wary.

  “Never mind.” His gaze was on her face. “I think I know.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t expect anything else.”

  “No, you couldn’t.” She went next door to her own room. “I should be ready to go in ten minutes. But I’m going to call Venable and tell him where we’re going and see if he can pave the way for us.”

  “Good idea. Fifteen minutes then.”

  But there was a missed call on her phone when she picked up her cell to call Venable.

  Eve.

  She stiffened, then drew a deep breath.

  She pressed the return call. “I just got your call. Did I wake you?”

  “No. We’re not doing much sleeping right now.” Eve was silent. “You said to start with the premise that we were wrong about Gallo being guilty and work from there.”

  “But can you do that, Eve?”

  “I’m trying. Joe says that we should trust you. That wasn’t easy for him.” She paused. “And either way, it’s not easy for me. I trusted Gallo, and it hurt me to think that I’d been a fool. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons that I was so stubborn about not changing my mind when you were defending him.”

  “I can understand that,” Catherine said. “And I can’t tell you I’m 100 percent sure that I’m right. How can I be when Gallo isn’t even sure? But I’m 75 percent sure, and before I’m done, I’m going to know.”

  “You’re going after Thomas Jacobs.”

  “You bet I am. I see you put two and two together.”

  “Joe and I decided he would be one of the only people who would know for certain why Queen hired Paul Black to take the blame for Bonnie’s killing. And we tracked you to the Chicago airport and found out that there was a flight to the East Coast about the time I talked to you on the phone.” She added. “Nonstop to Washington, D.C. Have you contacted Jacobs yet?”

  “Not yet. We think he’s on a flight to New Orleans. We’re going to be right behind him.” She hesitated, then asked the question. “What are you going to do, Eve?”

  “You mean am I going to notify the police that they can pick up Gallo in New Orleans?” she asked. “No, Joe said I should trust you. Dear God, I want to trust you, Catherine. And I want to trust Gallo.” She drew a shaky breath. “Joe left the hospital this morning. I’m going to talk to him now, but I think he’s going to agree that we’re not going to let the police interfere with what’s between us. I imagine we’ll see you in New Orleans.”

  “I’m glad, Eve.”

  “Don’t be too happy. When Joe came out of his coma, he said he thought we were heading toward the end, that Bonnie told him that was happening. But I just don’t know.” Her voice was uneven. “What I’m feeling is too damn tentative. I’m wobbling back and forth like a weather v
ane.”

  “What about Jane? Is she coming?”

  “No, she’s mad as hell, but I won’t let her run the risk.”

  Catherine could see that Jane would be angry as well as worried to death. “She didn’t impress me as someone who would take foolish chances. I agree that the situation may—”

  “The situation may be pure hell. I’ve got a gut feeling that it probably will be. Joe almost lost his life. If we’re heading for the end of the search, Jane’s not going to be caught up in any of it,” Eve said fiercely. “I’ll call you when we reach New Orleans.” She hung up.

  Catherine slowly pressed the disconnect.

  “We’re heading toward the end. Bonnie told him that was happening.”

  Bonnie, again.

  Catherine seemed to be the only one who was not being affected by that small seven-year-old child who had died those many years ago.

  Joe, whom Catherine respected as a friend and professional, was evidently accepting the same bizarre concept as Eve and Gallo. Bonnie, returned from the dead. Bonnie, the ghost, the beloved spirit.

  “Catherine?” Gallo had opened the connecting door, his gaze searching her expression. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry. I haven’t called Venable yet. But I can do it on the way to the airport.” She threw her suitcase on the bed and started tossing items of clothing into it. “This won’t take me long.”

  He leaned against the doorjamb. “I asked if you were all right.”

  She nodded jerkily. “That was Eve on the phone. She said she and Joe would see us in New Orleans.”

  He went still. “You told her?”

  “She said she wasn’t going to call the police.” She looked up from her packing. “She’s going to give us a chance. Though she still has her doubts.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Because he still had his own doubts and was fighting desperately to put them aside. Catherine had a few doubts herself, dammit, but she wouldn’t give up either faith or determination. If she was the only one driving this show, then so be it.

  “Joe is on our side.” She fastened the suitcase. “Sort of. Maybe. I guess we take what we can get. When are our airline reservations?”