Someone Safe

“Well, I don’t.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What now?” Her lungs still burning, she looked toward the hotel, but couldn’t locate the man closing in from behind. “I can’t run much farther. With your leg, neither can you. I know a place,” she said and fought to breathe. “Not too far. A house. We should be able…” She saw his hesitation. “If you have a better solution…”

The man was at the bottom of the steps now. In seconds, he could be right on top of them.

“Nick?”

He pulled her up. “Which way?”

As soon as they stood, they were spotted. The man below held fire, perhaps briefly afraid the shadows belonged to his friends, but the man behind didn’t hesitate. Bullets ripped savagely at leaves and twigs and hunks of bark.

After half a dozen steps. Nick pushed her to the ground. Dropping to one knee beside her, he unloaded yet another clip. Explosion after explosion went off until she lost track of which protected her—the ones from Nick’s gun—and which came from the weapons of their pursuers.

A bullet slammed within inches of her hand, then closer still until she felt the heat of its impact as it chewed a hole in the soil. Her chest ached as if she’d been pummeled. She couldn’t seem to breath. Or think. Or move. Instead of seconds and minutes, time was measured in never-ending explosions.

Then deafening silence.

Nick remained kneeling over her, his left hand keeping her down, his face barely discernable in the shadows as he waited. Instead of its usual saltiness, the night air tasted of spent powder. And of fear.

He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and bent down until his mouth was close to her ear. “When I give the signal, run. I’ll be right behind you.”

She looked around her for the first time. They were closer to the hotel’s maintenance alley than she had realized.

“Now!”

Kelly scrabbled to her feet, headed for the cover of a Dumpster as more rounds attempted to force them back to the ground. Nick followed.

They worked their way around the back of the hotel by way of the service courtyard and alley. The beach was an easy sprint just beyond and offered the cover of trees and dunes.

Ten minutes later, they ducked into a narrow lane created by tall, vine-covered fences. Nick rested behind a group of trash cans, while Kelly slumped against the side of the building, her lungs on fire. Her leg muscles, after running close to a mile in the soft sand, cramped. In fact, at that moment, there wasn’t much of her body that didn’t hurt, ache or burn.

“I don’t like it,” Nick said. “That was too easy.”

“Easy?” she managed between heaving breaths. “I’d like to see your idea of hard.” She closed her eyes. “I take that back.” She exhaled harshly. “I’d rather not.”

Nick’s expression remained grim. “Even if the one I hit wasn’t just wounded, one of the other two should have continued to chase us.”

“Maybe they were afraid of the police.”

“Men like that aren’t worried about the law.”

“You were well prepared,” she commented. “As if you were expecting them.”

“I was warned.” He placed the gun next to him on the pavement while he removed his shirt.

“You said those men might have been looking for you?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate.

Earlier, she’d noticed changes in him. But since she’d knocked on his door those differences had become even more apparent. There had been no hesitation, no change in his voice when he talked of killing a man.

Seven years ago, there had been a softness in Nick. It had been so deeply imbedded at his core it had been nearly impossible to reach, but in those last few weeks before her father’s suicide, before everything had changed, she’d seen glimpses. She suspected it no longer existed. He was now as ruthless and determined as the men following them. The bare, well-muscled chest and shoulders and the leather holster weighted with a very serious piece of steel did nothing to lessen her impression of him. Nor did the closed expression on his rugged face.

With her forearm, Kelly swiped away some of the sweat continuing to bead her forehead. What had happened in the intervening years to harden him. The job, no doubt.

“How many bullets do you have left?”

He stood to wrap the shirt around his thigh. “Enough to keep us alive a bit longer.”

The wound didn’t look so bad from where she was sitting, though she suspected, listening to his harsh intake of breath as he pulled the material tight, it was causing him quite a bit of pain.

Kelly followed suit and got to her feet. The last thing she wanted to be was left behind. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Yeah.” He started to take her arm, then seemed to decide against it. “It’ll need to be cleaned out when we get wherever we’re going. Perhaps now would be a good time for you to let me in on our destination.”

Kelly picked her way along the alley. “My aunt’s house. She’s out of town until tomorrow.”

Nick caught up and pulled her to a stop. “I don’t recall any aunt.” He tightened his fingers around her arm.

She sensed his distrust. “I’ll tell you what, Cavanaugh. You can believe whatever you want. You can put your ass right back on the ground and stay here with your leg the way it is, but, right now, I want more cover than this alley is providing and maybe some kind of bed.”

With that, she jerked free of his hold and turned and walked away. Nick caught up, fell in step beside her.

They were a strange pair, he decided. Neither trusting the other, yet linked together again by a second twist of fate. He glanced over at her, studied her profile. The hair, red-gold when caught in sunlight or in lamplight, turned a paler, more muted shade in the moonlight. The tail end of a breeze played with it now.

He recalled the feel of it earlier. Silky and cool. Just like her skin… Nick kicked that door shut. Kelly was no less desirable now than she had been back in Jersey, but he was a hell of a lot smarter now.

They passed no one as they traveled the narrow streets.

Brightly colored cottages and shacks jumbled along the waterfront like cereal boxes on a shelf. The muggy night air offered odors. Age and uncollected trash. Hibiscus and frangipani blooms. The stench of oyster beds at low tide.

Though Elbow Cay was a decent-sized island, the settlement was compact, small enough they’d be easy to spot.

“I’d liked to get off these streets. How much farther?

“We’re close.”

He followed without comment when she ducked down a narrow alley between a pair of two-story clapboard structures. Though she didn’t knock before entering the unlocked door of one of them, caution made him pause to check the area.

A cat, curled in sleep, was braced against the front door of the other building as if waiting for it to open. A flag barely fluttered overhead. Otherwise, there was no sign of life, no lights on inside either home.

The door through which Kelly disappeared groaned softly with the breeze. Tension tightened in him as he considered the possibility he’d walked into a trap. Not of Binelli’s making, but of Kelly’s. There was no aunt. He’d done the background check on her seven years ago and knew as much.

Nick removed the magazine clip from his weapon, switched it with the full one in his pocket. Safety off, he edged inside, halting next to her.

Except for the subtle scent of a recently cooked meal, the dark room smelled much as the outdoors had. The French doors along the opposite wall were open, moonlight angling into an enclosed courtyard beyond.

Something moved in the shadows and he aimed the Glock.

“No!” Kelly ordered in a desperate whisper and nearly tripped over a suitcase. “It’s a cat.”

Nick dropped the muzzle of his weapon. “A cat?” Most of the furniture suddenly seemed alive as tabbies and Persians and calicos spilled like an advancing army onto the floor. Some mewed in quiet greeting, others in a complaining meow.

“Looks like the local feline rescue.”

He nudged a suitcase with a foot. “Your aunt’s? The one who is out of town?”

He didn’t like it. He was still weighing his options when she suddenly tried to shove past him and out the door.

“We can’t stay here.”

Instead of letting her go, Nick pushed her farther inside, closed the door behind them.

If she was worried about who was upstairs there was a fifty-fifty chance it was an aunt. They were better odds than he’d get with Binelli’s people.

“We stay here tonight and get out before first light.”

“No we don’t. I won’t put her at risk.”

“You should have thought about that before now.” He wrapped a hand around her upper arm. “But since you didn’t, you can make some introductions.”

She tried to twist free. “Like hell, I will! Just look at us. Your leg. My clothes. The only thing that would accomplish is scaring her.”

“Where does she sleep?”

“Upstairs. But, Nick, please don’t—”

“Save it, sweetheart.” He escorted her roughly to the steps, Kelly continuing to fight him.

“Damn it, Nick!”

He only tightened his hold. “Maybe you’ve forgotten just how well I knew you at one time. And maybe you’ve forgotten that touching performance you gave the press about how your father was the only family you had? How you had been left alone in the world?”

Nick felt her anger even before it manifested itself into the small, but hard fist she threw at him. The blow was glancing, but still carried enough power that when it landed on his already bruised ribs, he fell back half a step.

She didn’t fight like a girl. He realized he should have remembered as much. When she would have tried a second, he caught her wrist. “Take it easy. I just wanted to get the story straight.”

Eyeing him, Kelly pushed a section of hair behind her ear. There was no way he was ever going to believe her or trust her. And no reason to continue fighting the inevitable.

Besides, at the moment she wanted a shower and a bed. “Okay. Whatever.”

He waited while she zipped the jacket, did her best to straighten her hair.

They climbed into the darkness. The air was warm and musty, the daytime heat trapped in the narrow stairwell. The wooden treads, weak with age, gave slightly under his heavier weight. Ahead of him, Kelly moved with the sureness of familiarity.

Near the top, he pulled her to a stop. He could feel the rigid anger in her body. Or perhaps it was fear.

Was she afraid she’d be caught in the cross fire? He had proof of her complicity. Binelli wouldn’t be after her if she hadn’t double-crossed him. If she would double-cross someone like Binelli, why not a Customs agent?

This time, when Kelly tried to move ahead, Nick tugged her back against him. “Not so fast.” His hand crept beneath her hair as he eased her more tightly against him with the hand still holding the automatic.

He was suddenly very aware of the soft feel of her body touching his. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you, so don’t do anything foolish.” He dropped the hand holding the gun, allowing their bodies to hide the weapon.

“Aunt Sarah?”

Nick heard the shift of sheets. As light leaked from beneath the closed door, he eased back, taking Kelly with him. The door opened slowly.

The woman was somewhere in her eighties. Her white hair hung in braids on either side of her face.

“Has something happened, dear?”

“Just a boat problem. Nothing serious. I hope you don’t mind if Nick uses the guest room?”

“Of course not. Let me pull on a robe and I’ll help you freshen the linens.”

“The sheets are fine.” Kelly offered a reassuring smile. “Go back to bed. I’ll take care of Nick. I just wanted you to know we were here in case you heard us moving around.”

“If you are certain?”

Kelly nodded. “I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

“I missed my kitties.”

“Of course you did,” Kelly murmured. “Good night, then,”

As soon as the door closed, Kelly faced Nick. “Unless you’re afraid of eighty-two-year-old women and what they might do to you in your bed, you should be satisfied now, Investigator.”

When she shoved past him, he let her go.

Kelly waited for him at the bottom of the steps. “The bedroom’s this way.” She led him through the kitchen, then down a cramped hall at the back of the house.

“The bed isn’t the most comfortable,” she said as she opened a door.

The glow of the small lamp she turned on seemed to mellow the scratched and dented surface of the brass headboard. A large crucifix hung in the shadows just above and reminded him of the one over his grandparents’ bed.

On the opposite wall, a dresser stood, topped by a mirror.

Except for the large, boldly done oil painting of a calico cat sitting in the sculptural shade beneath a tree, the room was dated and, Nick suspected, rarely used.

Kelly switched on the ceiling fan before facing him, her expression grim. It was the first time he’d seen her in reasonably good lighting since leaving her at the hangar. A bruise darkened on her forehead near the scalp, a cut marred the left corner of her swollen lower lip.

His gaze traveled lower still, to the closed jacket. He knew what it covered. “Maybe I should take a look?” Without asking, he pulled the zipper down.

She stopped him. He could feel the tremor of her hands where they loosely wrapped his wrist. “No. I’ll do it later. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“So he just roughed you up?”

After several long moments in which he sensed she fought to stay in control, she answered him, her voice so low he barely heard her. “If you’re asking if he raped me, no. He was too busy showing me what could be done with a steel blade and a burlap sack.”

She lifted her eyes to his and, making no move to cover herself, seemed to almost invite his gaze.

Her words, the added details, made what she’d gone through that much more real for him. Though he tried not to, he envisioned the attack, the sack covering her head, a knife pressed to her throat. The anger came, as he’d known it would. Maybe even as she’d known it would.

The blood on her blouse had long ago dried, as had the dark circles the psychotic bastard had drawn on the material covering her breasts, but the cut at her collarbone still seeped.

The most intense wound, though, shone in her eyes. She’d been terrorized, and even now he suspected the assault played over and over and over in her head like a gritty film clip.

Nick forced himself to look away. He’d keep her safe. For tonight. For longer if she’d let him, but he was afraid she wouldn’t. Maybe he could convince her to turn herself in, turn state’s evidence against Binelli.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and, lowering his hands, stepped back. Now wasn’t the time to think about the future. Right now he needed to focus on their immediate survival.

“I dropped my phone back at the hotel. Do you carry a cell or does your aunt have one I can use?”

“Battery is dead on mine. There’s a pay phone two blocks over. Occasionally it even works.”

“No good. Too risky.”

“The dive shop has one. Rod’s a good friend. He usually opens early.”

Nick nodded.

“In the meantime,” she said, “we should take care of your leg.”

“Maybe we should talk first. About what you know. And exactly what it is Binelli wants back.”

“I’ll say it one more time. I don’t know Binelli.”

Nick rubbed his face. “You expect me to believe a criminal intelligent enough to run an operation the size of his, breaking every law on the books without leaving enough evidence for any government agency to get him off the street, doesn’t know who works for him?”

Kelly’s chin edged up. “Do I expect you to believe it? No. I don’t even believe it.” She arched a brow. “But it’s true.”

Nick shifted to ease the ache in his leg. “That’s bull!”

“Okay, Nick, what evidence do you have linking me to Binelli? More photos?”

“For starters.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked. “Since February, Binelli’s attorney has been using your airline on a weekly basis, always flying into Marsh Harbor on Fridays, back out on Sundays.”

“Jeff Myers is Binelli’s attorney?”

With one brow raised, he offered a hard smile. “You want me to believe you didn’t know that?”

“The only thing Jeff Myers is to me is a fare. As far as his frequent trips, he claimed he had a boat over here. Liked to dive. I didn’t believe him, of course.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to spend any time on a boat without getting a suntan, or at least a burn.”

“Then what did you think he was doing on all those trips?”

“Actually, I didn’t much care. But if I thought anything, I suppose I figured he had a boyfriend over here and that whatever he was doing was none of my damned business.” She crossed her arms. “What else, Nick?”

“Past history, of course.”

“That would play a prominent role. Do I need to remind you once more that I was never tried in a court of law, never found guilty of anything?”

“Doesn’t make you innocent. Where did the extra fifty thousand in your account last month come from?”

Her eyes narrowed. He’d hoped to surprise her, and perhaps he had. But there was no way for him to be certain.

“Ben,” she said after a several-second hesitation.

“And where did Ben come by that kind of money?”

“A relative passed away. A distant uncle or something. He left Ben his estate.”

“Estates aren’t settled in cash, Kelly.”

“The deposit was in cash?”

Nick arched a brow. “You didn’t know that, either, huh?”

“Ben insisted on taking care of the banking.” She kept her gaze level and steady with his.

“Didn’t you find the inheritance story a bit coincidental? Ben producing cash just when you were turned down for a loan?”

“No.” She paced away. “Maybe. I don’t know,” she said, her frustration coming through in her voice this time.

“Is it possible Ben works for Binelli? Could he be loading and unloading the money without your knowledge?” At her hesitation, he added, “It wouldn’t be difficult for him to convince Binelli you’re in on the scheme.”

She shook her head. “I do the preflight checks. I handle most of the cargo. To smuggle something without my stumbling onto it at some point is nearly inconceivable.”

“Which, since you’re a two-man operation, leaves you.”

“You would see it that way.” She flattened her lips and frowned. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“It’s getting us to a consideration you haven’t even entertained.” Kelly might not fear him, but there was one thing she was truly frightened of. “The scum who assaulted you tonight wasn’t playing at being tough. Binelli only hires the best. And he’ll use whatever methods are necessary to make sure you either can’t or won’t talk to the government. My guess is, if he can’t get to you, he’ll start with those closest to you.”

He saw the horror in her eyes. There was a part of him that regretted being the one to lay it on the line for her, but she needed to know what she was up against.

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” She turned away. “I’ll get a towel and some supplies for your leg,” she said, her voice dull and flat. “The bath is through the door.”

WHEN SHE RETURNED ten minutes later, he had a towel wrapped around his waist. A small amount of blood trailed down his damp leg. She placed the gauze and alcohol, along with scissors, tweezers and tape, on the mattress, then indicated the space next to the supplies.

He sank onto the edge of the bed. “Just take it easy with the alcohol. I’m not big into pain.”

Kneeling in front of him, Kelly shifted the towel slightly to get better access to his upper thigh. The bullet had punched a hole through the thick cord of muscle, taking only a slightly larger piece of flesh as it exited.

“Maybe I should be thankful he was using a copper jacket.”

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