Bodyguard (40 page)

He turned back, both his eyes and his voice curiously flat. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure. Why not spread around some of the pain? I kind of failed to tell you, babe, that Nic is my ex-wife. You know—the one I wasn’t quite over? Except I have been over her for a while.” He laughed again, another pain-filled expulsion of air. “Now I’ve just got to figure out a way to get over you.”

This was insane. Harry was literally dragging Allie up the side of a mountain, with five professional killers hot on their heels.

It was true that this was a big mountain and these were vast woods, but Harry knew it wouldn’t take much to track them, considering they were leaving an elephant-size trail through the underbrush.

And that was if Ivo hadn’t signed a local tracker onto his team. He probably had. Both Ivo and Michael Trotta were meticulous. They wouldn’t have overlooked the possibility of their hunt for Alessandra ending up in the Colorado wilderness. And if one of those other four men was indeed a tracker, he would be able to follow them no matter how careful they were.

“What are we going to do?” Allie asked, panting as they pushed farther up the hill. “You don’t really think
we can outrun them, do you? And there’s five of them. They’re bound to split up.”

“We don’t have a lot of options.” He helped her up and over a fallen tree. She no longer refused his hand. That was either a good sign or a bad sign. Harry didn’t know which. Probably a bad sign, since she’d spoken of taking his money and vanishing—if they survived this.

Please God, let them survive this.

“We could hide,” she said.

“They’d find us,” Harry told her.

“Well, we could find a place—I don’t know, a cave or something—where we could hold them off with your gun.”

“And hope that the FBI finds us before they go back to their car and get a grenade thrower out of the trunk?”

Allie was silent for a moment, just pushing forward, using both hands to scramble up the ever-steepening hill. “So what exactly are our options?”

“We keep moving.”

“That’s it?” Her anger wasn’t far from the surface, and it bubbled up again. “Do you screw up all your cases this way, or is there just something about me that brings out this incompetent side of you?”

“I didn’t set this up,” he told her for the four thousandth time. “If I did, there would have been backup. Believe me.”

“I’m done believing you. I believed you twice—and you know that old saying? ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’ I’m making up a third part to that saying. Fool me three times, just shoot me now.”

Harry laughed. It was the wrong thing to do.

“You think this is funny? We’re probably going to die, and you think this is funny?” She was furious. “You said I’d be safe here, and I trusted you. I did more than trust
you, I slept with you, over and over again! Oh, God, the whole time you were probably laughing and—”

“Allie, you gotta believe me—I didn’t set this up. George did. George knew about that letter I got from the lawyers. He probably figured out there were court records with Shaun and Em’s names and address on it. And this snafu stinks of Nicole Fenster, too. But I swear to you, I didn’t know. There’s no way in hell I would’ve set you up. And I didn’t mean to sleep with you. I mean, it wasn’t something I planned and …”

Yeah, and that wasn’t exactly helping. Making it sound as if the lovemaking they’d shared had been some kind of an accident, like Whoops, golly, how’d my penis get in there?

There probably wasn’t anything he could say to make her believe him. But he wanted her to. They were probably going to die, and he didn’t want her to die hating him.

As they crested the top of the mountain, Harry saw a flash of blue below them.

A river.

There was a river down there.

Maybe, just maybe, Allie at least wouldn’t have to die.

“Can you swim?” Harry asked her. “What? Why?”

“Damnit, Al, just answer the fucking question.”

She flinched, and he felt a surge of remorse. He’d meant to clean up his language, but he’d never gotten around to it. He probably wouldn’t get a chance to now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Allie, I’m so sorry about all of this. I honestly thought we were safe here. I told you, I wouldn’t risk my kids’ lives that way. And I wouldn’t risk your life either. Because I …”

She was looking at him, and he could see that familiar flicker of hope in her eyes. Hope that he’d say the words
that were sticking in his throat. Despite everything she’d said, she wanted to believe him. And he knew that all he had to do was say it.

“I wouldn’t set you up that way,” he said again, squeezing the words out, hoping the verbal running start would give him the necessary momentum, “because I’m in love with you.”

Harry loved her.

Harry loved her.

Allie nodded, looking back the way they’d come, back down the mountain, to where Ivo and his men were bound to appear any minute.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, taking her hand and pulling her with him down the other side of the mountain. “My timing needs a little work. But I just thought there wouldn’t be—”

“No.” She refused to let him continue. “We’re not going to die. Don’t you dare give up on me, Harry. We’re going to make it. We have to. Because I love you, too.”

He pulled her close and kissed her, sweetly but far too briefly. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “but we’ve got to keep moving.”

Allie nodded. She wanted to cling to him, to kiss him deeply, to feel his arms around her. But that was going to have to wait. Still, this was better than fighting. Much better. God help her, she believed him.

As Harry glanced back at her, she saw he had tears in his eyes. “You know, I hate to sound like a doomsayer, but sometimes love’s not enough, Al. I wish it was all we needed, but—”

“We can do this.” Her voice trembled with the power of her hope.

“Yeah.” Harry took a deep breath. “Maybe we can.” He released her hand and took the map from his pocket,
unfolding it, still moving down the hill. “So can you swim?”

“Yes,” she told him. “I can swim. It’s not pretty, but I stay afloat.”

“We’ve got a new option.” He slowed as he pointed to a thin blue line on the map and then down the mountain. “We head for this little river. See it on the map? It’s nothing major, but it’ll go all the way into Hardy if you take it heading east. And if you walk in the water, there’ll be no trail for them to follow. Swim if you have to. When you get to Hardy, go straight to the police.”

“Wait. You keep saying you as if I’m doing this alone. Aren’t you going to come with me?”

“I’ll go farther west, up into those mountains, leaving a trail for these bozos to follow.”

“But … they’ll kill you if they find you!”

“Maybe, but they won’t kill you, and that’s my priority right now.” He skidded again on the dried leaves. “Christ, going down is nearly as tough as going up.” He pocketed the map and took her hand again. “Look, Al, if I don’t leave another trail, they’ll assume we followed the river. This way at least you get a chance to get away.”

She worked hard to keep her voice calm and in control. “Yes, but it’s me they’re after. You’re the one who should follow the river.”

Harry’s feet slipped out beneath him, and he nearly pulled Allie down the mountain with him before he caught himself. “Sorry, that’s not an option.”

She threw calm and control out the window. How could they possibly be discussing this? “Well, I say it is.”

“There’s no way I’m going to let you die for me,” he told her. “Christ.”

“Oh, and what? I’m supposed to just let you die for me? Forget it, Harry. We do it together, or we don’t do it at all.”

Harry slipped again, and this time they both went down. He held on to Alessandra, trying to protect her from the branches slapping past them and the bruising rocks that littered the forest floor as they skidded down the steep mountainside. He grabbed at a thin tree, but it was dead—it uprooted, spraying them with dirt instead of stopping them.

He caught another tree, a bigger tree, directly in the ribs, and through the haze of pain managed to throw his free arm around it. Jesus, his ribs again. Same rib. Of course. It had just started to feel better. But then he remembered. Allie loved him. The pain was inconsequential.

“You all right?” he asked Allie. Her hair was in his eyes, her arms tight around his neck.

She gasped, he struggled to sit up and …

“Oh, shit.”

Another three feet, and they would have gone over the side of a cliff. Harry held on to both the tree and Allie as he looked over the edge.

Sheer rock went down about forty feet to the river that sparkled directly below. It was not some little narrow river you’d only get your feet wet walking across. The thin blue line on the map had been deceptive. It was wide and deep and running much too fast, with white water as far as the eye could see.

It was the kind of river you could drown in. The kind where the water could wash over your head and pull you under …

Allie tugged at his arm. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve got to find another way down.”

It was amazing, really. It was crazy, but Harry loved her even more for it. She could look at the river and still have hope. She didn’t see it as the end of the line, the end of their options—the way he did.

She didn’t see it for what he knew it to be—the end of their lives.

George sat on the sofa, his head in the palms of his hands.

Kim knew she had no choice. She had to tell him. He had to know that what happened to his partner and Alessandra Lamont wasn’t entirely his fault. It was mostly her fault.

The irony was incredible. She had been prepared to tell George about Michael Trotta’s demands, but she hadn’t because she’d believed he still loved Nicole. She’d been jealous—bottom line—and she’d betrayed him.

She sat down next to him, but he didn’t look up.

“I have to tell you about something I’ve done,” she said quietly. “It’s something I’m ashamed of.”

He still didn’t look up. It was better that way. It would be hard enough telling him without having to look into his eyes.

“I overheard your conversation with Nicki,” she said. “The one where you told her how to find your partner.”

He lifted his head, and she was the one who now gazed down at the floor. “I gave Trotta that information,” she told him. “He told me if I didn’t tell him everything I overheard, he’d make me wish I was dead. I know I should have gone to you and asked for help, but … I didn’t. I was too afraid, and too jealous. I thought you were seeing Nicole again and …”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she finally found the nerve to look up at him, hoping to see compassion and understanding in his eyes.

Instead she saw nothing. No emotion, no light, no warmth, no nothing.

“I know,” he said. “I knew all along that you were
working for Trotta. Why do you think I let you move in here?”

Kim was speechless. He … knew?

George smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Surprise, babe. Here, all this time, you thought you were using me, but in fact, I was using you. That phone call you overheard? That was a setup. We were feeding that information to Trotta, through you. I knew you were home, and I knew why you wanted a donut so goddamn badly. You did just what I expected you to do. I hope he paid you well.”

He knew …

“Pack your things and get out,” George told her flatly. “You better take whatever money you made from Trotta and leave town. Disappear. I should cuff you and bring you in. And if I see you again, I’ll do just that.” He stood up. “I’m giving you five minutes, and then I’m getting the handcuffs.”

She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that this was happening. “But … I love you. And you love me. I know you love me.”

“Yeah,” George said, slipping his crutches under his arms and walking out of the room. “Ain’t life a bitch?”

“Now what?” Allie asked.

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t believe they’d gotten this far.

They’d worked their way down to a narrow ledge about twenty feet above the rushing water, and there was, without a doubt, nowhere left to go.

“We’ll have to go back,” he told her. “Try a different route.”

This hope thing was contagious, and far more pleasant than the alternative, which was lying down and waiting for Ivo and his buddies to put bullets in their brains.
With a little hope, he could pretend that he and Allie actually had a future. A little more hope, and he could see his days and nights filled with her warmth and beauty. And love. God, she loved him. How could he not hope to live happily ever after for longer than the forty minutes he’d originally estimated Ivo would take to catch up with them?

With hope, he could pretend it was just a matter of time before they could return to Hardy. He’d move into Marge’s house with Em and Shaun, and he’d let his relationship with Allie grow. They’d take their time, and maybe in a year or so, when Allie was ready, they’d get married.

God, he hoped she’d want to marry him. He hoped he would spend the rest of his life with her at his side.

The truth was, if they did survive, they’d have to leave town. Trotta knew about Hardy, so they’d have to hide again, someplace new. Shaun and Emily would be angry—Marge probably would be, too. It would be harder than ever to regain their trust. And as for Allie … She’d already told him—no question—that she didn’t want to marry him.

Still, he could hope.

But then it happened. A gunshot. A bullet plowed into the ledge.

Harry pulled Allie back against the cliff, shielding her from flying bits of rock. A piece hit his leg and it stung. But the sting was nothing compared to the sharp pain he felt as all his hope was deflated.

There was no way out. He’d failed her. They were temporarily shielded by the cliff that jutted out above them, and he had enough ammunition to temporarily hold off anyone climbing down onto their ledge, but it was only a matter of time before Ivo sent a sharpshooter to the mountain on the other side of the river. From there, a
man with a high-powered rifle would be able to pick Harry and Allie off like targets in a shooting gallery.