Dark Deceptions (23 page)

She’d be charged with attempted murder at best. Treason at worst. And either way, she had no doubt that they’d take Adam from
her. Her little boy would be on his own. Just as she’d been all those years ago.

She closed her eyes, memories sliding past, pain raking through her. She’d managed to survive. But she wasn’t about to let
the system get her son.

“Mommy?” Adam’s voice broke through her tumbling thoughts. “Are we going home now?”

“No, sweetie,” she said, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “We can’t go back there anymore. It isn’t safe. But I promise
you we’re going to make a new home. And it’ll be even better than before.”

“What about the bad men?” Adam asked, his eyes darting toward the window. “Won’t they find us?”

“No.” Annie shook her head, praying it was the truth. “I won’t let them.”

“Can’t we make our new home with Nash?” her son asked, his eyes wide with confusion and innocence. “I thought he was your
friend.”

“I thought so, too. But sometimes grown-ups make mistakes. Just like kids.”

“But he saved me.”

“Yes, he did. And I’ll always be grateful. But it’s more complicated than that.”

Adam nodded solemnly, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

“Anyway,” she said, struggling for a lighter tone, “it’s always been just you and me, right? We’re a team.”

“But I promised to help Nash find the man with the Wii.”

“I know, baby, but sometimes things happen and we have to break our promises. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Adam frowned, but didn’t argue. He trusted her. It was there in his eyes. Her heart tightened. This was all too much for a
little boy. And for the millionth time, she questioned the wisdom of running.

Behind her, the phone rang. And she whirled around, pulse pounding. It wasn’t the landline. It was the phone Rivon had given
her. With shaking fingers, she picked it up, turning her back so that Adam couldn’t see her fear.

“Gallagher,” she whispered, working to keep her voice calm.

“Running was a stupid idea,” the disembodied voice said. “But all the better for me.” Annie reached for her gun, moving between
Adam and the window. “I hope your son had a nice nap,” the voice continued, “because, now, it’s time for you to pay.”

“Glad you’re here,” Emmett said as they walked through the overly ornate foyer of Dominico’s country house. “The ambassador’s
not the easiest man to deal with. I can use the backup.”

“How many in his security detail?”

“There’s six altogether. Three working the perimeter and three in the house. They seem like good men, but with Dominico’s
tendency to roam we could use ten more—easy.”

“Where is he now?” Nash asked, taking the com unit Emmett offered.

“In the orangery.” He shook his head with a grin. “Whatever the hell that is.”

“This place is huge.” Nash followed as Emmett cut through what looked to be a ballroom of some kind. It was big enough to
hold a basketball court. Upholstered velvet chairs stood like sentries against garishly floral walls.

“Makes our job so much more fun,” Emmett said. “Nothing like a game of finding Dominico. Anything new on Annie?”

“Yeah, maybe a lead. I just got off the phone with Drake, and they found the stolen Honda in a Wal-Mart parking lot. They’re
interviewing employees now. If we’re lucky, maybe someone saw her. Noticed where she went. What kind of vehicle she’s in now.
But it’s a hell of a long shot. A needle in a fucking haystack.”

“It just takes one mistake.” Emmett rounded the corner into a long mirrored hallway.

“Like mine.” The words were meant more for himself than for Emmett, but his friend answered anyway.

“We’ve all been there. They teach us to be cynical, to stay unattached, but sometimes even the best of us get drawn in. Hell,
I believed her, too.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t sleep with her.”

“I might of if I’d had the chance.” Emmett smiled, then sobered as he glanced down at the GPS on his watch. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Dominico’s on the move,” Emmett barked into the microphone on his com-link, still staring down at the moving blip on his
watch face. “Who’s supposed to be on him?”

“Me,” came the static-filled reply. “Said he was going to the can. I figured he was safe in there, but he’s gone.”

“Goddamn it.” Emmett blew out a breath, picking up the pace as he moved through the room. “Which john?”

“The one near the kitchen.”

“How could you possibly have lost him?” Emmett asked, pulling his gun now as they walked into the kitchen, the security man
standing near the open door of what was clearly a bathroom.

“He asked me for a magazine,” the man said sheepishly. “When I got back, he was gone.”

“Anyone out there got him?” Emmett barked again into the microphone.

Nash pulled out his gun, motioning toward a glass door open just a crack.

Emmett nodded, signaled the security man, and the three of them, guns drawn, moved across the kitchen. Emmett waited a beat,
then pulled the door open, swinging through, his Smith & Wesson at the ready. Nash followed, the security man on his heels.

“You see him?” Emmett asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Nash scanned the enormous tree-filled yard and was just about to shake his head when someone stepped out from behind a large
elm tree. The man was dressed in a yellow golf sweater and green plaid pants. “That him?”

“Yeah,” Emmett said, lowering his gun as Dominico gave them a casual wave. “Asshole.” They started across the lawn as the
ambassador began to make his way toward them. There was maybe ten yards separating them when something flashed in the woods
behind Dominico.

“Get down,” Nash yelled, but the warning came too late. A shot rang out, and the ambassador fell to his knees. “Son of a bitch.”

Emmett and Nash moved in tandem, Emmett dropping down beside Dominico. “No pulse. He’s dead.”

Nash nodded, his eyes still on the stand of trees where he’d seen the flash. The bushes moved slightly, and he saw a shadow
detach from the undergrowth. “Someone’s out there. I’m too far away for a shot. I’m going after them.”

Nash ran across the grass, using the shrubbery and trees for cover, vaulting over the hurricane fence that bordered the property.
Unlike the manicured lawn, the woods were full of undergrowth, slowing his progress as he fought against entangled tree branches.
There was no sign of the shooter.

“Emmett, I’ve lost him. Maybe your security guys can intercept him. I’m going to head for the place where I thought I saw
someone.”

“Roger, that,” Emmett said. “I’m right behind you.”

Nash reached the stand of birch, surprised to find that the killer had left his gun. Then again, maybe it was easier to move
through the trees without the encumbrance of an assault rifle. He leaned down, careful not to touch it, and felt a shock as
he recognized the modified specs.

Floating barrel, 40x telescopic with laser sight. This was Annie’s gun. The one on the schematic she’d given to Rivon.

His blood ran cold as he turned slowly around the clearing, looking for something else—something to negate the image of Annie.
Here. Killing Dominico.

Something glistened in the dappled light of the trees. He moved forward, his gut churning.

“What is it?” Emmett asked, coming to a stop behind him.

“There,” Nash said, anger mixing with a rush of pain so great he had to fight just to breathe, “caught in that branch. It’s
a clump of hair. Red hair.”

“Adam?” Annie said, her eyes on the parking lot outside the window. Nothing moved. “Honey, I need you to move into the bathroom.”

“Is the bad man out there?” His little voice trembled as he moved to follow her instructions.

“I don’t think so. I think he was just trying to scare us. But I don’t want to take any chances,” she said, still watching
for any sign of danger. “So we’re going to go out the back way. Just like we practiced.”

She’d picked the room because, unlike some of the others, it had a window in the back. She’d parked the pickup back there,
too, figuring that if anything happened, it was logical to assume the attack would come from the front.

“I’m going to boost you up, and I want you to crawl through the window. Then duck down behind the truck, okay?”

“I can do it.” Adam nodded as she lifted him upward. He scrambled through the open window and dropped safely to the ground
below, moving quickly to crouch behind the beat-up Ford she’d liberated from the Wal-Mart.

Annie followed Adam through the window and crouched beside him, checking for signs that someone had seen them. Like the front,
everything was quiet. But something felt off, the hair on her arms prickling as she tried to figure out what it was.

“Mommy,” Adam said, fear filling his voice as he tugged on her jacket. “I know that man. He was in the car. After the airplane.”
Annie’s heart stopped as she turned to see a man in a black T-shirt standing by the ice machine, his attention focused on
the front of the motel.

She was too far away to take him out. And she wasn’t about to leave Adam to get closer. Better to just get the hell out of
Dodge and pray that he didn’t turn around. “Okay,” she whispered, reaching up for the truck’s door handle. “I’m going to open
the door, and when I do, I want you to get inside and lie on the floor. And I want you to stay down, no matter what happens.
Promise me.”

“I will.” He nodded.

She pulled the handle, and the door opened with a soft groan of protest. The guy at the ice machine didn’t move. Either he
hadn’t heard the noise, or he’d written it off as nonthreatening. She motioned to Adam, and he climbed up into the cab of
the truck, crouching on the floor under the dashboard.

With what she hoped was a comforting smile, she followed him in, keeping low as she slid across the bench seat and turned
the key. The truck wheezed for a moment, and then the engine caught, the noise seeming deafening.

The man in the breezeway turned, his face darkening as he recognized her. Shouting out something to someone behind him, he
raised his gun, shooting as Annie gunned the old Ford. The truck lurched forward as the bullet slammed into the passenger-side
door.

“Adam, you okay?” She risked a look at her son, then clenched her teeth, yanking the wheel, the old truck’s tires spinning
as she pulled it into a one-eighty. In the rearview mirror, she saw the guy shoot again, but they’d moved out of range. Gunning
the engine, the Ford shot forward, past the motel office and onto the highway, gravel spewing.

Behind her, she could see a blue sedan pulling out of a parking lot, slowing only slightly as the man from the ice machine
wrenched the door open and jumped inside. Then it sped up again, intent on pursuit.

She pressed the pedal to the floor, praying the old engine would hold out. The truck fishtailed as she cut around a pothole,
the sedan closing the distance between them fast. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the cell phone and dialed.

“Come on, Nash,” she screamed into the phone, trying to keep an eye on the road, on Adam, and on the car behind her. “Pick
up.” The sedan moved closer as the machine kicked in. “Damn it, Nash. Where are you?” The electronic voice told her to wait
for the beep, and she momentarily considered hanging up.

But sometimes a person had to choose between the rock and the hard place. And right now, she and Adam needed help. She had
a gun and plenty of ammo. But with her son in the car, she couldn’t afford a shoot-out. The best option was to outrun them,
but the heat indicator on the Ford was climbing, and she didn’t have a lot of faith.

Faith.

She laughed, the sound bitter against her throat.

Finally, the beep sounded, and she stumbled over her words. “Nash, it’s Annie. Adam and I are in real trouble. They found
us somehow. Adam recognized one of them. Anyway, they’re on my tail. Two of them. And I could use some help. I’m on Route
82 heading south. Back to Sunderland.” She stopped, drawing a breath. “Nash, I know you’re angry. But we can deal with all
of that later. The only thing that matters now is Adam. Help us. Please.”

She clicked to terminate the call and threw the phone on the seat. The car behind them was gaining—the Ford’s hot light flashing
red now.

“Mommy?” Adam asked, his eyes wide, his voice quavering as the truck shuddered in protest. “Are we going to be okay?”

“We’re going to be fine,” she answered, forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can deal with this, I promise.”
She pulled her gun from her pocket, balancing it on her knee, keeping her attention focused on the road ahead and the rearview
mirror.

“And if you can’t?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I will. I just called Nash for backup.”

“He’s your plan B,” Adam said with a weak grin. “Like the window in the motel bathroom.”

“Exactly.” She smiled down at her son. “We’re going to be fine, Adam. You’ll see.”

As if to counter the thought, the blue sedan slipped up beside her, the driver slamming his front bumper into the side of
the pickup. The truck lurched to the right, the front wheel sliding off the road onto the rocky shoulder.

Annie jerked the wheel to the left, using the weight and force of the Ford against the sedan. The sedan’s front quarter panel
crumpled with the impact, the car falling behind them again.

Pressing her foot to the pedal again, the old truck shot forward just as a shot rang out from the car behind. The bullet crashed
through the back windshield, shattering the glass.

“Stay down,” Annie yelled as she pushed the pickup to its limit, the floorboards rattling in protest as they started across
a bridge.

Another shot whistled past her. This time the bullet shattered the front windshield, the spidery cracks making it impossible
to see. In front of her, she heard the frantic sound of a car horn and swerved instinctively to avoid impact. The truck skidded
off the pavement, slamming through the guardrail, flipping over as it landed with a frightening crunch at the bottom of a
ravine.

Annie fought against a scream, knowing that they only had minutes before they had company. “Adam. Baby? Where are you?”