Dare You to Run (18 page)

But he was the one in danger. “You need to listen to me,” she said.

“I will.” He glanced down at her before he returned to watching the area. He had his hand under his jacket, on his gun. “Just as soon as I get you secured some place your father can't reach.”

“He wants to kill you.… You have to get away from me.” What she needed to do was leave on her own. The idea burst in her brain and she fumbled with the jacket, turning toward the door.

“Don't make me cuff you, Damascus.”

“You wouldn't.” She turned back toward him with a hiss.

“I would, but it isn't going to be necessary.” He cut through her argument with a soft tone that was nonetheless granite hard. “You're in shock and about ten seconds from passing out.”

“I am not.” But her tongue felt like it was swollen and too big for her mouth. She opened and closed her jaw a few times to try and figure out why it felt so strange.

He glanced down at her, his expression softening just a tiny amount. Her pride smarted because the last thing she wanted was his pity. “Don't you dare feel sorry for me.”

She couldn't take that. She just couldn't, not on top of everything else. Her head felt like it was bursting from all the events of the last few hours, it was all spinning around and around and around until she felt like she was falling off the edge of some merry-go-round. Just like a kid, she went happily falling away from it, enjoying the way her insides clenched and her toes tingled before she landed in a black void that wrapped around her like a blanket.

*   *   *

Saxon came back driving a small luggage truck. Vitus stepped out and pulled Damascus from the helicopter. She made a half sound of protest before she settled against his chest. He slid right into the front seat of the truck as his brother considered Damascus.

“I believe her,” Saxon said as he put the truck in gear and started driving across the airport.

Vitus tugged a hat down onto his head as he let Damascus settle into his lap. “About what precisely?”

“About the fact that those guys intended to kill us,” Saxon answered as he stopped to allow a passenger liner to cross in front of them.

“Ryland is showing his hand at last.”

“The problem is, he's managed to cut us from the herd,” Saxon said. “We go back to Washington with her, and Tyler will dig in.”

“Taking her off-grid gives Tyler time to regroup,” Vitus answered.

Saxon nodded. “And I don't care for it any more than you do, but the way I see it, we're stuck between using her to control the action of the game or handing over our one ace and sticking our necks out when we do it.”

His brother took a look down at the crumbled form of Damascus. Her hair had flipped back, reveling the missing part of her ear. “Not that she's escaping her share of the risk.”

“Tyler might leave her alone now. Find some other bait.”

Saxon shook his head. “You know he won't. My guess is, Daddy wants his little girl to learn what happens when she steps over the lines he draws.”

“Is there a team that can take her while we draw Tyler's attention?” Vitus asked. He was frustrated, his recent return to duty meant he was operating with old information. At the moment, that meant the difference between success and failure.

“I wouldn't trust them. There have been too many leaks when it comes to Tyler Martin. The guy is connected. Obviously he's been working on this move to Washington for a couple of decades. You know that means he's got dirt on people who wouldn't normally roll over. We leave her, we have to accept a margin of risk.”

“I'm not willing to do that,” Vitus answered, feeling his belly knotting. Tyler should be dead. The fact that he wasn't was almost admirable, because the situation was a fucking work of art as far as setups and double-crosses went.

He couldn't. Step back that was. His temper was raging and he needed to get a handle on that immediately so that he could think … clearly. The last thing he needed to do was hand Tyler a victory because he was too busy seeing red to outsmart the man.

“This idea of Greer's—”

“Is the best we have,” Saxon answered back, his gaze on the airport traffic. They'd crossed over into the civilian area now. Large passenger jets were butted up against concourses as sky-dining trucks and luggage trains streamed around them.

“Ryland's reach might be weakened if we take Damascus to one of Dunn's properties. The guy is a recluse.”

“But we bring an unknown into the operation,” Vitus cautioned.

“Greer knows Dunn. In fact”—Saxon cut his brother a sidelong glance—“from what I saw, the relationship is tight.”

“I hope so.”

Because he was about to bet both his and his brother's life on it.

*   *   *

“She's a little rough around the edges.”

Vitus looked up from Damascus. The man standing in the aisle of the private jet was considering him. Vitus stood up, judging the man for a long moment. Tension filled the air, but the man in front of him didn't flinch. He stood there, his lips twitching up just a tiny bit to prove that he was enjoying the way Vitus was trying to cut him down.

“Dunn Bateson, a friend.” Greer stressed the word “friend.” “Stop glowering.”

“No offense taken.” Dunn said as he offered Vitus his hand.

Vitus shook it. “We owe you.”

Dunn grunted. “I owe Greer. He was right to hit me up.” His gaze moved down to where Damascus was lying across the sofa that ran along one side of the jet. “Would have done it anyway, just because whoever did that to her needs his ass kicked. Happy to be invited to the party, I get sick of playing polite games.”

He reached up to open the latch to an overhead compartment. “No staff on board, so, self-service.” He pulled a blanket down.

Vitus took it and laid it out over Damascus.

“Good timing too,” Dunn continued as he started toward the private office at the back of the plane. “I was going to cancel this flight.”

“Glad you didn't,” Vitus replied as he tucked the blanket around Damascus. She was shivering, but he had to focus on getting her into the air before dealing with comfort concerns. “Your flight plan is already approved.”

“More than one actually,” Dunn confirmed. “There are some aspects of my business that have to be handled in person, and sometimes I don't get a lot of advance notice. Once we land, there will be three other planes waiting to take off. No one will know just where she is.”

“Something tells me you enjoy keeping people guessing on just where you'll show up,” Vitus said.

Dunn flashed him a grin before he started heading back to the office. There was a chirp as he pressed his thumb against a print scanner and the door popped open. He disappeared behind the wall.

“Dunn likes his privacy,” Greer said from the cockpit. He was going through preflight checks. “Trust me, he's one of the good guys.”

It wasn't as if he had much of a choice. Vitus leaned over and buckled a seat belt around Damascus's waist. He tucked the edges of the blanket around her, smoothing her hair back before moving into the cockpit. “I'll take the first shift as copilot.”

Saxon considered him for a moment before he nodded and took his headset off.

At least the act of getting the plane into the air was something he had control over. Saxon settled into the back and leaned his seat back so that he could rest. Vitus listened in as the tower gave Greer clearance to take off. His lips curved up as they taxied toward a runway.

The only thing he regretted was the fact that he wouldn't get to see the look on Ryland's face when Tyler confessed that he'd lost Damascus.

*   *   *

“One bitch was too much for you to handle?”

Pratt didn't often get nervous, but he was smart enough to know when the moment had arrived. He was in one now, facing the wall as his boss let him know how displeased he was.

The Raven didn't show his face and a wise man never tried to sneak a peek. Pratt kept his attention on the wall. “Should have handled her myself.”

Pratt's men made the mistake of bristling under his comment, one of them twisting around toward the Raven. There was a soft whistle as a bullet discharged through a silencer. His man got a good look at the Raven, his eyes widening with recognition before his knees gave out and his body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle of blood running across the tile.

The other two men watched it spread, their faces tightening as they waited to see if they were going to join their comrade.

“I'm disappointed,” the Raven announced softly. “And now, I am in the position of dealing with this.”

“I will clean it up,” Pratt said.

“How?”

Two shots rang out. This time, Pratt had fired. His other men slid down to join the body on the floor. “I will find them and finish the job.”

“You sound confident,” the Raven said. “Why?”

“If anyone saw them, I will find them,” Pratt answered. “No one knows the Quarter as I do.”

“That is why you are still alive.”

There was a soft crunch as the Raven left. Pratt stayed in his seat, making sure he gave the man plenty of time to clear out of the area. Pratt had never seen the Raven's face, but he suspected the Raven was someone with a public image. Like the girl. Someone he might recognize and in that moment he'd feel a bullet tear through his heart, giving him just enough time to know he was going to die, a slow minute of torment as he was trapped and helpless to avoid his fate while the knowledge of who he'd been working for filled his mind.

He would rather live in ignorance and thereby keep drawing breath. He considered the bodies for a long moment, making sure he soaked up just how important it was that he succeeded. Death was such a final thing, he sometimes wondered why he fought to avoid it. Life was a struggle, a continuous battle against the demons that walked as men. For sure there were good men as well, but he did not have the luxury of making his living beside them. He had killed a few of them because a man such as himself didn't always have the choice of who to spare. Today would be another one of those days. Vitus and Saxon Hale were good men, but it was his task to kill them.

So he would.

Life was not fair.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

Damascus woke with a start, feeling like she had been dropped several feet onto solid stone, the jolt shattering her slumber like glass hitting the pavement. There was a roar all around her, and something was binding her to whatever she was on. She struggled against it, trying to rip whatever it was off her waist.

“Easy Princess.”

She looked up to find Vitus watching her. His eyes were clear and unwavering, so collected. Her cheeks flushed as she recognized how flustered she was by comparison.

“We're landing.”

She looked around the interior of the jet in confusion. Blinking didn't change the view. She pushed herself up and froze as pain shot through her body. It was actually stunning just how acute it was.

“Bet you're feeling the effort you put into getting out of the building.”

Vitus's tone was the only thing that made it possible to sit all the way up. There was a note of admiration in his voice and that wasn't something he handed out lightly. She felt her pride glowing. Just a bit, as she managed to sit up on the sofa she'd been lying on. Reaching down, she hit the release on the seat belt buckled across her middle. The aircraft was slowing down, making a turn before it wobbled as it parked and the engines began to wind down completely.

“You're dehydrated.”

A water bottle appeared in front of her face while she was attempting to take everything in. The cap was off and Vitus didn't wait for her to grab it. He reached down and grasped her wrist, lifting her hand up and putting the bottle against her palm. The moment its chilled surface connected with her skin, she realized her mouth felt like she'd been chewing on cotton balls. She lifted the bottle to her mouth, losing the battle to drink it in any sort of way that might be considered polite.

She guzzled it, gulping air only when Vitus pulled the bottle away from her lips.

“Slow down or it will just come back up.” He was cooing now and she grunted at the placating sound of his voice.

“I was—”

“Doing just fine,” he finished for her. “Yeah, we've established your take on the operation, Princess.”

She opened her mouth to argue with his use of the endearment, but he pushed the bottle back toward her lips, and the need for water overpowered her pride.

The slim door between the cockpit and the cabin slid open. Saxon considered her as she looked at him over the rim of the water bottle. He had a lot in common with his brother. One of those things was the way he cocked his head to one side and lifted an eyebrow while he contemplated her.

Judged her.

“You look rough around the edges, Ms. Ryland,” Saxon said in a tone that lacked a lot of the icy disdain she was used to hearing from him.

It was all she could do to keep from sticking her tongue out. She finished off the water as Greer appeared behind Saxon and sent her a wink.

Greer clicked his tongue. “Redheads go well with drama.”

“Gee, thanks.” She tried to stand only to discover her head was swimming. Vitus was there before she realized she was woozy, clasping her bicep and helping her toward the aircraft door. Saxon had lowered the steps and disappeared down them with Greer on his tail. She blinked at the sunlight and the nearly deserted airfield. There were several private planes but no larger aircraft in sight. A large van was pulling up, the driver popping his head out the moment he parked. Damascus felt every bit of grime more intensely as the driver swept her from head to toe, his face exposing his shock.

“Greer … I've got to say, by the looks of her, your rescuing technique needs a bit of refinement.”