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Tires shrieked on the pavement.
Thank God! When she opened her eyes, Shannon found the cab had come to a stop only inches from her.
“Hey, lady,” the driver snarled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He was an Asian man of indeterminate age, dressed in a short-sleeved khaki shirt. A hula girl danced on the dashboard beneath swinging fuzzy dice.
“I need a ride.” Shannon started to go around the front of the cab.
“Yeah, well, I got that. Hasn’t anyone ever told you how to hail a cab?”
Ordinarily Shannon wouldn’t have let the insult pass. No one got the better of her in an argument. She rounded the corner of the cab and headed for the back.
A line of holes suddenly appeared in the cab’s windshield. That appearance was followed almost immediately by the harsh cracks of gunfire.
Though she knew she shouldn’t, Shannon couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as she squatted down beside the cab. She’d been in enough combat zones in Iraq and, lately, Kestonia to know gunshots when she heard them.
Evidently the cabdriver had experience, as well. He ducked down behind the steering wheel, shoved the transmission into Reverse and floored the accelerator.
“No!” Shannon couldn’t believe it. She tried to hang on to the door handle, but she almost lost her balance and went face-first onto the ground. “No! Don’t leave!”
The cabdriver never even looked back. He managed a three-point turn that left the tires smoking.
Shannon got a brief glimpse of the frantically dancing hula girl and the wildly swinging dice, then the cab vanished around the corner. She stayed low and headed for the side of the street.
Drago ran at her. His efforts to reload his pistol only slowed him a little.
A solid line of buildings trapped Shannon out on the street. Bullets chewed at the sidewalk beneath her feet. Sparks flashed at every contact. The whines of the ricochets whined in her ears. She wrapped her hands around her head. Then she ducked into a deep-set door alcove of a cabinetry shop. Her heart hammered in her chest as she listened to Drago’s steps close in on her.
She was out of places to run.
Tense and frustrated, fighting to remain calm, Allison Gracelyn sat in the ergonomic chair at her desk and watched the action playing out on the three computer monitors in front of her. This was one of those times when it was hard to remember that she was in a position to help.
Allison hadn’t slept in thirty-seven hours. A scrunchie held her brunette hair back. Her brown eyes burned with the effort of watching the computer screens. She was slim and athletic despite years spent in front of a computer. She was disciplined enough to keep her physical health as sharp as her mental faculties.
She’d learned that at Athena Academy all those years ago and maintained the practice. She wore yesterday’s business suit, but the jacket lay on the couch at the back of the office where she sometimes caught naps on ops that ran long.
All three monitor feeds came from street cams she’d “borrowed.” One monitor showed Shannon hiding in the doorway. Another showed Drago from behind. The third showed Rafe Santorini desperately weaving through traffic.
“Left at the next block,” Allison directed.
“You’ve still got her?”
“I do.”
On the screen, Rafe made the turn. He was going too fast to make the turn cleanly. The tires broke traction and the vehicle drifted a few feet.
“I thought I heard gunshots,” Rafe said.
“You did. She’s all right. I have her on-screen. But you need to hurry.” Allison cursed herself for that. Rafe knew he had to hurry. Her frenzy was unprofessional.
But you put them both in harm’s way, didn’t you? Allison had to acknowledge the guilt and shelve it for later. You knew going in that Drago was going to kill Shannon.
Allison had intercepted the e-mail when Drago had received it yesterday. There had been plenty of time to warn Shannon Connor.
But you chose not to do that, didn’t you?
Even right now, as she watched the tragedy that was about to unfold, Allison didn’t know if Shannon was about to become a victim because of the residual animosity that remained from all those years ago at Athena Academy or because Allison had been too confident.
Allison tapped the keyboard, dropping the camera as Rafe headed out of view. She picked him up with the next. Even though she couldn’t see his features on the other side of the darkened windshield, she knew he had his mad face on.
Get there, Allison said silently.
“Ahead. On the left.”
Rafe recognized the metallic tightness of panic hovering in Allison’s voice. Unaccustomed as it was, her tension put him a little on edge. He breathed out and raked the street with his gaze.
“Do you see her?” Allison asked.
With all the neon lights, pedestrians and cars on the street, Rafe had a hard time spotting Drago and Shannon Connor. It got a little easier when he noticed the cars and pedestrians gave the left side of the street wide berth.
“Got Drago,” he said.
Drago jogged toward a doorway.
“Where’s Shannon?”
“She’s in the shop doorway. It’s recessed.”
Rafe knew he didn’t have time to get out of the car to intercept the man. Besides that, with the way his knee was hurting, he wasn’t sure how much mobility he’d have. It already felt as if it was swelling.
Instead he switched off the headlights and aimed the car at Drago. He hoped that Shannon didn’t step out of the doorway at the wrong time.
Even driving far too fast for street conditions, Rafe barely arrived in time. Drago had reached the doorway and was raising the pistol. He was so intent on his prey that he didn’t hear the car bearing down on him.
Rafe hit the horn. The strident noise rang out and drew Drago’s attention. At that moment Rafe switched the lights back on. He hoped they would stun Drago and present a warning to Shannon to stay put.
Drago knew he couldn’t run, but he was a predator. He didn’t give up. He turned the pistol in the direction of the car and fired. Two shots tore through the windshield. One of them ripped the passenger seat headrest into a flurry of padding that filled the car’s interior.
Rafe stayed on track. He put the car in close to the wall. His side mirror disappeared in an explosion of twisted metal and shattered glass. Then the whole side of the car turned into a stream of rushing sparks that bounced off the window and trailed behind him.
At the last minute Drago tried to break and run. He didn’t even get turned before the car struck him.
The air bag exploded into Rafe’s face at the same time. The gunshot of propellant setting off temporarily deafened him. His face stung from the impact and he was blinded.
Shut it down, shut it down, he told himself. He put his foot over the brake and shoved. The antilock braking system kept the tires from locking up as he slewed around. He hit another object and felt certain from the weight and mass involved that it was a car. He remembered there’d been a line of them.
There was a sickening moment of not knowing what was going on, then the car came to a stop. The smoky haze left by the air bag deploying burned his nose and mouth, then his lungs. The gunpowder taste was all too familiar.
His face and chest felt as though he’d gone rounds with a heavyweight. He had no doubt that bruising would show in a few days.
“Are you there?” Allison asked.
“Yeah.” Rafe reached into his jeans and took out a small lock-back knife. A quick flick of his thumb deployed the blade. He pierced the air bag and it deflated in a rush. By the time he got out of the car, he had his pistol in hand.
Drawn from her hiding place, Shannon watched the maniac driver force the door of his vehicle open. It screeched as it yawned wide.
At first Shannon had thought her salvation had been luck. In this part of Washington, D.C., there were plenty of bars. It would have been easy to believe a drunken driver had come along fortuitously.
Not that Shannon’s luck ever really ran that way. She wasn’t the lucky one in any group. She’d had to work for everything she’d gotten. Whatever luck she’d had had gone away while she was at Athena Academy.
Then, when she recognized the man stepping out of the car as the man from Drago’s bar, she knew her luck was running true to form. She held her position even though every nerve in her screamed, Run!
The man limped a little, but he moved quickly and efficiently. He kept the pistol in his hand close to his side as he surveyed the street.
Several curious pedestrians hovered along the sidewalk. Three young men hurried over to Vincent Drago’s body lying a hundred feet from where the car had hit him.
“Get away from him,” the man ordered.
“He’s hurt,” one of the onlookers yelled back.
The man lifted the pistol as he stepped into the headlights of his car. “Get away from him. Now!”
“Dude, that guy’s got a gun,” one of the other pedestrians said. He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him back.
Go, Shannon told herself. Get out of here while you can. But she couldn’t move. The story hadn’t finished. Her reporter’s instincts and curiosity refused to let her budge.
The man walked to Drago and pointed the pistol at the prone man. For a moment Shannon thought the stranger was going to shoot Drago on top of hitting him with the car. She couldn’t help wondering what the man had against Drago.
Then the man knelt and quickly ran his free hand through Drago’s clothing. He took out a wallet and a PDA, a few papers and anything else he could find. He removed his beanie and tucked everything he’d collected inside the hat. Then he stood.
It didn’t make any sense to Shannon. Robbers didn’t commit their crimes by taking out victims with cars.
More than that, why had the man left the bar looking for Drago? Shannon’s curiosity was in full bloom.
The man returned to the car long enough to stash the beanie in the backseat while police sirens filled the air. Flashes from brave onlookers using the camera function on their phones flickered along the sidewalk.
Ignoring the fact that he was getting his picture taken, the man turned his attention to Shannon. He walked toward her. The pistol was still naked in his fist.
Shannon pushed out of the alcove and started to run. She didn’t know how far she’d get before a bullet punched through her back.
“Shannon!” the man called. “Don’t run!”
She kept waiting for the “or I’ll shoot” addendum. It didn’t come.
“Please.”
That was even more surprising.
“If you run,” the man said, “they might get you.”
They?
“I can help you.”
The sirens sounded closer. Shannon looked around the street. Only then did she realize how much trouble she could be in. The police would want to know what she was doing there. If she told them she’d employed Drago, which might be something they learned anyway, she was going to be buried in legal difficulties.
She didn’t know enough about what was going on to feel safe. Not only that, but Drago had been convinced that the federal government was interested in the inquiries she’d asked him to make.
It wasn’t a good position to be in. There would be a lot of questions, and she wasn’t liked by many in the police departments or political offices. In fact, she’d covered a story for ABS three years ago concerning politically motivated murders that had involved a particularly offensive cover-up.
The District of Columbia Police Department and the Hill had gone ballistic when she’d broken the story without their approval. She’d barely escaped town one step ahead of the lynch mob. Only the news station’s lawyers had kept her from being brought back and charged.
The man made no move to pursue her. He didn’t put the gun away.
If he really wanted to hurt you, he’d have shot you by now, Shannon told herself. And if you run, you’re never going to know what’s going on. Or who he is.
She took a deep breath and walked back to him.
“Get in,” he growled.
Evidently politeness wasn’t his forte. Or maybe he had an issue with cops. Tall, dark and mysterious, he definitely looked like the type who would have a chronic problem with law enforcement.
Dirt streaked his hard, angular face, but Shannon could still make out the small scars on his right cheek and his neck. Another small scar stood out at the outside of his right eye.
He wasn’t a stranger to violence.
She became fully aware of the broad chest and lean hips encased in denim. He smelled like an outdoorsman, not like the metrosexuals of the broadcasting studio. His dark hair was longer than the norm. She wished she could see his eyes, but she was willing to bet they were dark. Dark brown or dark hazel would suit him perfectly.
“Get in,” he repeated.
“Are you in a hurry?” Shannon asked.
Without a word, the man climbed into the car and slid behind the steering wheel. He keyed the ignition and pulled the transmission into gear.
Only then did Shannon fully realize he intended to leave her standing there.
Chapter 5
Shannon ran around to the other side of the car and found it locked. She rapped on the window, which was somehow miraculously still intact.
The man looked at her for a moment, then spoke as if talking to himself. Maybe he was cursing whatever impulse persuaded him to get involved with her.
Shannon rapped again. She didn’t want whatever story he represented to just ride off into the night. Not only that, he obviously knew Vincent Drago. It was also possible that he knew why Drago had decided to kill her.
“Open the door,” Shannon ordered.
The man just looked at her. The sirens screamed more loudly and sounded closer.
Shannon took a page from his book. Mirroring the way someone treated her in an interview—a noncombative one, at least—often bought some trust and generosity. The wraparound sunglasses didn’t look inviting at all, though.
“Please,” she said in the same no-nonsense tone he’d used when he’d asked her.
This time the man leaned over and unlocked the door.
“Thank you.” Shannon slid inside the car. She glanced distastefully at the exploded headrest. The cottony fuzz was going to make a mess of her hair.
“Belt up,” the man ordered as he got the car under way.
“Are you always this friendly when you meet someone?” Shannon asked before she could stop herself. She reached for the seat belt and put it on.
The man’s voice was ice and his face was carved granite. “I don’t normally have to kill three people to get to know someone.”
“Did you go to the bar to meet Vincent Drago?” Shannon asked.
The man drove quickly. From the way he made the turns through the streets, Shannon figured he was a native to the city.
“No,” he said.
“It didn’t take you long to decide you didn’t like him.”
The man turned to her and grinned, but the effort was mirthless. “It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t like you. Do you normally have that effect on people?”
Shannon frowned. “Drago and I had already met.”
“So how long did it take him to decide to kill you?”
“Are you always such a charming conversationalist?”
“I’m a charming guy.” He turned back to face forward as the stoplight turned green.
“Why were you there?”
“Why were you?”
Shannon studied him and tried to find all the things about him that made him unique. “Drago was a private investigator.”
The man nodded. “He specialized in electronic information and data management.”
“You knew that about Drago, but you’d never met him? I find that interesting. And how did you know my name?”
“I’ve seen you on television.”
“You’re a fan?”
“You might say that.”
Shannon didn’t believe that. He didn’t seem like the type to spend his life rooted in front of a television. He looked like more of a hunter or a fisherman.
“Then how did you just happen to be there at that bar tonight?” she asked.
The man checked the rearview mirror and the one remaining side mirror. “Why don’t you give me a few minutes before you keep hammering me with questions?”
“Sure.” Shannon debated retrieving her iPhone and taking his picture. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t like the idea. She also knew she was going to have a hard time holding the questions back.
“Head downtown,” Allison said.
Without responding, knowing Shannon Connor would be listening to every word he said, Rafe followed the directions Allison gave him. He’d worked in Washington before, so the city wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him.
“I know you can’t talk,” Allison went on, “so I’ll try to hold up both ends of the conversation for you.”
Rafe didn’t reply. He didn’t want Shannon to know he was connected to someone else. He concentrated on driving. D.C. was a city trapped between disparate economies. Citizens drove new cars as well as beaters. He fit in. The only problem was that his beater was newer than most of the others around him.
Gradually Allison gave him directions that took him to a public pay lot near the late-night action on U Street. It was shortly after midnight and the Washington, D.C., club scene had come to life.
The bars and taverns would stay filled with political and military aides and employees until the small hours of the morning. The city’s nightlife was one of the most active in the country. Newspapers, magazines and Web sites were dedicated to the topic in an effort to keep everyone up to date regarding entertainment.
“Half a block up on the right,” Allison said. “The lot there has a lockbox, not a human operator.”
That was good. No one on duty meant no eyewitnesses later. Rafe didn’t worry about being identified himself, but Shannon Connor was way too high-profile.
“I’ll have the car taken care of,” Allison went on. “After you walk away from it, someone will pick it up. That car will never be seen again.”
Rafe was impressed.
“I have a lot of friends,” Allison said.
And it was spooky how she seemed to read his mind. He wondered if she knew how irritated he was at being left so far in the dark.
“I’ll tell you more as soon as I get you in a safe spot,” Allison went on.
Rafe almost laughed, but he figured that Shannon would think she’d crawled into the car with a crazy man. That wasn’t exactly the impression he wanted to make.
“I’m going to need you to sit with her a little longer,” Allison said.
“Where are we going?” Shannon asked.
“To get rid of the car.” Rafe signaled and made the turn onto the lot. “Unless you want investigators to find your fingerprints in here and come ask you a lot of questions.” He glanced at her.
“No,” she replied.
During the last few minutes he’d found looking at her easier and easier to do. Shannon Connor was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. Her long blond hair was currently a tangled mess, but it gave her a wild, untamed look that threatened to take his breath away. Her blue eyes seemed to drink him in every time she looked at him. Even wearing disheveled clothing, her figure was striking.
Keep your mind on the job, he told himself. But he was acutely aware of how long it had been since he’d met a woman who intrigued him.
In Jacksonville there had been a steady buffet of women with which to lose hours, evenings and even whole weekends. All of them had been fun to be around, and many of them had possessed personalities that were interesting.
But when he’d first laid eyes on Shannon Connor, Rafe had been aware of a deepening interest that normally didn’t seize him just from looking at someone of the opposite sex. Having Allison hold back information about the woman had made Shannon even more intriguing.
The fact that she hadn’t continued running, that she’d come back when he’d asked, had created even more curiosity.
Unfortunately he’d bought further into the idea of taking responsibility for her, as well. That had been a drawback in his work performance that more than one supervisor had noted. And ultimately it had been that trait—becoming a little more involved than he should have—that had gotten him caught in North Korea.
This situation was starting to feel uncomfortably close to that business.
“This lot is full,” Shannon said.
Rafe had to agree that things looked pretty hopeless. The bars and nightclubs got slammed on most nights, and tonight was Friday.
“There’s a parking space two rows ahead and on the right,” Allison said.
Rafe glanced around and spotted the camera at the back of the large lot. That could be a problem.
“Don’t worry about the camera,” Allison said. “I’ve already got that under control. It’s going to experience technical difficulties that will wipe the night’s digital recording starting one hour ago.”
Rafe smiled at that.
“What’s so funny?” Shannon asked.
Rafe pointed at the parking space. “We got lucky.” He pulled into the space and started to get out.
Shannon unfastened her seat belt and started to get out, as well.
“Give me a minute, okay?” Rafe asked.
Suspicion darkened Shannon’s features. “Why?”
“I’ve got to make a call.”
“To whom?”
“Someone who wants to know that you’re safe.”
“I generally know all of those people.”
Rafe ran a hand over his face. His whiskers felt rough. “Please.”
“Being polite doesn’t always get you what you want.”
In spite of his best efforts, Rafe let a little of his anger show. The pain in his knee had increased and showed definite signs of staying around for a while. “Saying please beats the hell out of getting a roll of duct tape out of the back of the car and restraining you.” He smiled when he said that.
Shannon blinked at him in surprise. “You’d do that?”
“At this point, yes.”
She folded her arms. “What happened to the knight in shining armor who saved me and asked me to get in the car?”
“Rescuing you is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.”
“I didn’t know I needed to be rescued.”
Rafe snorted and shook his head. “You’re a television reporter, lady. Not exactly in league with guys like Vincent Drago.”
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