Army of Two (5 page)

“How far is it?”

“At this rate, maybe an hour.”

“You told me the lake was only sixteen miles long.”

“As the crow flies. With the twists of the road, it’s more than double that. I need to head west before I can take the fork to the north, but it’s still faster than driving to Bethel Corners.”

He retrieved the gun, pulled out the magazine to check the ammunition, then snapped it back into place.

“You were trying to give us a head start,” she said. “That’s why you shot out those tires.”

“Right. Hopefully, Knox and his gang will waste some time before they figure out they can’t follow by land.”

“Knox? Did you recognize those men?”

“No. That’s the name the guy who caught us said into his walkie-talkie. It’s probably their leader.” He twisted to look behind them. “It’s going to take them several minutes to get their chopper back in the air. We need to be as far away as we can by then.”

“I understand that.”

“You’re going to need to go faster.”

“Not if I don’t want to roll us.”

“Pull over. I’ll drive.”

“No.”

“Chantal—”

“I know this road. I know this truck. You don’t.” She steered around an exposed boulder and gunned the engine at the top of a small rise. They went airborne for a second, splashed through a puddle and accelerated out of the next turn.

Mitch braced one hand on the dashboard to help steady himself. “You’re not a bad driver.”

“You’d better not say, ‘for a woman.’”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I was thinking you’re good for a civilian.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Where’s the walkie-talkie I liberated?” he asked.

“On the floor at my feet.”

He leaned over her lap. “I see it,” he muttered, stretching his arm between her legs. His chest pressed into her thigh. The back of his head brushed her right breast.

She gripped the wheel hard, concentrating on keeping the truck steady. She didn’t want even to think what would happen if they hit a bump while they were in this position. She didn’t want to think about the position, either. This body contact wasn’t personal, she reminded herself. Regardless of how personal it felt.

His arm rubbed across her calf as he groped along the floor. He straightened, the walkie-talkie in his hand, and sat back. “Got it.”

She let out her breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. She pressed down on the gas and skidded into the next turn. “Can we call out on that thing?”

He inspected it before he replied. “No, this model has preset frequencies and a limited range. We can only listen. It should give us an idea of what they’re up to.” The hiss of static filled the cab. No voices. Mitch fiddled with the controls. “By the way, that was a nice diversion back there.”

“What diversion?”

“When you drew the guy’s attention. I wasn’t sure you got my message.”

She risked a glance at him. “I wasn’t sure you were sending me one. I had thought you’d given up.”

“I didn’t want to make a move while we were still within sight of their leader. He was watching through the side window.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“And I never give up without a fight. You should have had some faith in me, Chantal.”

“I’m not in the habit of waiting to be rescued, Mitch.”

“I’m a soldier. This is what I’m trained for.”

“Regardless, I’ve found it’s easier not to depend on anyone.”

“Until this is over, we’re going to have to depend on each other.”

“I suppose we will.”

He met her gaze. “Regardless of our history.”

The truck lurched into a pothole hard enough to jar her teeth. She looked away from him to focus on her driving. “Our history,” she repeated. “This is hardly the time to get into that, is it?”

“It’s exactly the time. A team never functions at its best if there’s tension between the members.”

“Maybe having my home invaded by a pack of armed thugs, seeing my friends terrorized, getting shot at and fleeing for my life before I’ve had a chance to digest my breakfast explains any tension you might be sensing here. Don’t flatter yourself by assuming you’re the cause, Mitch. I got over you a long time ago.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I grew up.”

“I noticed.”

“So there’s no reason to dredge up the past. Besides, I thought we’d already settled this when we were out on the dock.”

“You don’t really think I bought that polite act of yours, do you?”

“What act?”

“Your body language didn’t match your words. There was plenty more you wanted to say on the subject of our past.”

Her knuckles were white where she gripped the wheel. She flexed her fingers. “You’re the one who brought this up, so maybe you’re the one with more to say.”

“True enough.”

“Although, I can’t imagine what. You made yourself crystal clear seventeen years ago.”

“Yes, and I’ve owed you an apology since then.”

They had entered a pine grove. The rising sun was casting deep bars of shadow across the road, which hampered her depth perception. Chantal didn’t want to slow down, but she needed to or risk tearing out the oil pan on a rock. She eased off the gas and leaned closer to the windshield.

It wasn’t cowardice that kept her focus on the road. It was necessity. Or so she told herself. Damn him.

He touched his fingers to her arm. “I
am
sorry, Chantal.”

She concentrated on her driving. She wouldn’t permit herself to look at him, because she was sure she’d heard a roughness in his voice. And she wasn’t going to be foolish enough to believe it was from emotion. It was from the bumpy road.

“If you’re saying those words only because you believe it would make us a more efficient team,” she said, “then don’t bother.”

He dropped his hand to his lap. “You’re not giving me an inch, are you?”

Why should she? she thought. The last time she’d offered him anything, he’d turned her down. He’d thrown a blanket over her and had run for the door.

“I’m sorry we parted the way we did,” he said. “I should have been more understanding. Your mother had just died. I should have known you had only wanted comfort.”

No, I’d wanted
love,
Mitch. I wanted you to be my first and my only lover. I would have gladly given you my trust, my heart and my virginity if only you would have loved me….

She spoke through her teeth. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I didn’t then and I’m not now. You’re no longer a child so you must be able to understand the reality of the situation. You were my commanding officer’s teenage daughter.”

“I wasn’t a child. I was eighteen.”

“You’d had a sheltered life.”

God, he was so wrong. “And you were a captain with career ambitions and a convenient sense of honor.”

“My honor isn’t a convenience. It’s the code I live by.”

“Then we were a bad mix from the start. I got it then. I get it now.”

“Chantal…”

“I can appreciate why you wanted to clear the air, but—”

“Then let me finish. For our sake, and for the sake of everyone who’s being held hostage, we can’t let our past hinder us from cooperating.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? Working together?”

“You’ve been questioning nearly every choice I’ve made,” he pointed out.

“And you think that’s because of our history?”

“Isn’t it?”

She didn’t relax. She couldn’t. Yet the edge of a laugh scraped at her throat. “You really don’t know me anymore, do you? I’d be questioning anyone. I’m a civilian, not one of the soldiers in your unit. I’m accustomed to making my own choices.”

“You have no experience with combat situations.”

“You have no experience with this truck, this road or this area.”

“Which is why we need to team up.”

“Yes,
team
is the operative word. You’re not in command here, Major.” They emerged from the pine grove into a strip of cleared forest. Only brush and new seedlings grew among the low stumps. Chantal squinted as her eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight. “If I’d wanted to follow orders, I would have joined—”

A line of dirt and rock chips burst from the track in front of them. Chantal swerved to one side. The truck tilted dangerously as the wheels caught the edge of a rut.

Mitch leaned closer to the windshield and looked up. “It’s the chopper.”

“They’re firing on us!”

“They’re smart. They maintained radio silence. They must have guessed I’d be listening.”

“Skip the analysis. Do something!”

He was already angling the barrel of his gun out his window. He fired off several rounds. The noise was deafening but apparently for nothing. The barrage continued uninterrupted.

A shadow fell across the road in front of them. The helicopter hovered above the break in the trees. Its engine was loud enough to drown out Mitch’s return fire. Chantal reflexively hit the brakes.

“Speed up,” he yelled. “Go under them!”

Or that’s what it sounded as if he said. It seemed like the only option. Chantal floored the accelerator. Holes appeared in the hood of the truck. As irrational as it was, she ducked, but no bullets penetrated the cab as they passed beneath the aircraft. In her rearview mirror she saw the landing skids dip and slew as it turned.

“If we can make it to the next line of trees, we’ll be back under cover,” Mitch said.

Bullets shattered the rear windshield of the pickup then tore through the cargo bed and sides. Gas sprayed into the air as the fuel tank ruptured.

Chantal fought to maintain her grip on the wheel. Mitch twisted backward to fire through the broken windshield. Ahead, the road curved sharply to run parallel to the tree line. It would leave them exposed for another quarter mile. She made a split-second decision, gunned the engine and went straight. “Hang on!” she yelled.

The truck bounced across the ruts and into the cleared strip, missing a ragged stump by inches. Brush dragged at the undercarriage. The trees loomed nearer. Chantal swerved past a sapling and steered toward a gap in the wall of foliage.

Her sudden maneuver took their pursuers by surprise. The gunfire halted for precious seconds as the helicopter swung to realign itself.

But the bullets had already done their damage. Black smoke billowed from beneath the truck’s hood. There was a
whoosh
, and the entire front end was in flames. Chantal shrieked, unable to see, unable to breathe. The truck plowed through a thicket of brush, hit a rock and stopped dead twenty yards from the shelter of the trees.

Mitch opened his door. “We’ve got to bail before this thing blows!”

Chantal could hear the roar of the helicopter, along with a renewed hail of gunfire. Flames licked across the dashboard, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t manage her seat belt. “Mitch!”

He undid the buckle, hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her out from behind the wheel. She felt herself being lifted into the air.

And then, mercifully, she felt nothing at all.

Chapter 4

“A
erie, this is Waterfalls Resort. Come in, please. Over.”

Tyra Pearson walked across the manager’s office and sat in front of the radio. She fisted her hands in her lap. A voice came over the speaker.

“Chantal, are you there? It’s Bob.”

Lewis Knox gripped the back of the woman’s chair. “Keep it short,” he said. “And be convincing.”

She nodded. She didn’t look at him, she looked at her son.

Taddeo stood in the doorway with a firm grip on the boy. They’d put a strip of duct tape over the kid’s mouth to ensure his silence, but seeing his mother cry seemed to have taken the fight out of him. The thin-bladed skinning knife that Taddeo held at his throat wasn’t to ensure his cooperation. It was to ensure the mother’s.

Lewis had no doubt that she’d do exactly as she’d been told. As always, fear was a good motivator.

Bamford slid the microphone in front of Tyra. At a signal from Lewis, he pressed the switch.

She swallowed, wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and leaned forward. “Bob, this is Tyra. Over.”

“Hey, Tyra! What’s going on?”

“Nothing special. Why?”

“I saw black smoke on the horizon a while ago. It looked like it was coming from your area.”

“It was nothing to worry about. We have a new group of guests. They wanted a campfire.”

“That was some plume of smoke for a campfire. What were they cooking? Old tires?”

“I think someone threw on rotten wood.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full this week.”

“What can I say? They’re city suits.”

“Well, just watch them. The fire hazard’s low because of all that rain last month, but if one got out of control we’re all in trouble.”

“Yes, that’s true.” She paused. “We hope these guests don’t cause us trouble.”

Lewis didn’t like her tone. It sounded as if she were attempting to send a message. He gestured toward Taddeo.

Taddeo gripped Henry’s hair, yanked back his head and flattened the blade of his knife along the boy’s neck.

“Henry!” All the blood drained from Tyra’s face. She was breathing fast through her mouth. For a second, she looked about ready to pass out.

That wouldn’t do them any good. Lewis jerked her chair to get her attention and pointed to the radio.

“Are you okay, Tyra? You’re sounding odd.”

She gripped the edge of the table. “I’m fine, Bob.”

“Something wrong with your boy?”

“No, Henry’s fine. I’m just reminding him to do his homework. Only another week and we move back to town. I can’t wait.”

“Can’t wait to get him out of your hair, you mean.” He chuckled. “Just make sure those suits don’t burn the place down before they leave.”

“I’ll do my best. I have to go, Bob.”

“Okay. Over and out.”

Tyra switched off the microphone, leaped from her chair and ran to her son. She yanked him out of Taddeo’s grip and held him to her chest, her shoulders shaking.

Bamford rolled the chair that Tyra had used into place behind the manager’s desk. “Sounds like he bought it.”

As usual, Lewis found Bamford’s complacency grating. He looked at Taddeo. “Take them back with the others, then send Hillock and Molitor to me. And you,” he said, transferring his attention to Bamford. “I want that computer link set up ASAP.”