Dead Running (28 page)

“Well, they’re not,” he snapped. “Make Damon slow down or they will pry you from that car in two minutes.”

I cringed, though relief flowed through me. Damon and I weren’t in danger. “Damon’s okay,” I said. “He was just trying to protect me. It would’ve been helpful to know that these guys don’t know the meaning of discreet.”

Dad actually laughed.

“Can I tell Damon what’s going on?”

“No.”
           
“Please. Wouldn’t it be better if he was aware of the situation and could help us rather than give your buddies something exciting to do on a Saturday night?”

There were three long seconds of silence. “Bare essentials, Cassie.”

“Got it.” I closed the phone and grabbed Damon’s arm. “Slow down.”

He glanced at me. “Not until I lose them.”

“Damon.” I increased the pressure on his arm. “I know who they are. They’re following me.”

He stared at me like I had taken a hard hit to the head. “Why are they following you?”

“Slow down and I’ll explain.”

“How do I know they won’t hurt you?”

“They aren’t the ones who are trying to hurt me.”

His eyes widened. “Somebody is?”

I pointed at the Kmart parking lot. “Pull off. I’ll tell you what I can.”

Damon turned off the road and slammed the car to a stop. He rotated to face me in the bucket seats. “You aren’t telling me what you can. You’re telling me everything.” He looked around at the brightly lit parking lot and the white car that had pulled into a stall fifty feet from where we parked. “What’s going on, Cassie?”

I understood his need to know what was going on, but did he have to be so demanding? I took a deep breath and began, “You know how I told you my parents were killed in Mexico?”

He nodded.

“So the good news is my dad’s alive. But it also turns out he’s got some nasty men trying to make sure he dies this time.”

Damon’s brow squiggled. He pulled my clasped hands apart and gently stroked the fingers of my left hand. “If they want your dad dead why are they after you?”

“They couldn’t get to him, so they used me to flush him out. Dad escaped and came to America. Now we’re trying to trap the bad guys before they kill him again.” I took a deep breath, pulled my fingers from his, and folded my hands in my lap.

“Where is your dad now?”

“Hiding.”

“Why isn’t he staying with you and Nana?”

“To keep him safe.”

“Where does he stay?”

I shot him a nasty look, shifting in my seat. “He doesn’t tell me that. If they find him, he’s dead.”

His brows shot up. “What did your dad do to them?”

“Their boss,” I corrected. “I guess Dad has seriously hampered their boss’s slave trade.”

“Slave trade?”

“Mexico is a lucrative spot for human trafficking. My dad fights the slavers. They want him dead.”

Damon steepled his hands, rocking slowly back and forth. “Wow,” he muttered.

“Yeah. Wow,” I said.

I waited, wondering how long it would take to sink in. He wouldn’t want to date me. Who would want to be around something this nuts?

When he didn’t say anything for several minutes, I whispered, “Do you mind taking me home? If you don’t want to, I understand. I can catch a ride with them.” I jerked my thumb towards the men watching us.

Damon snapped from his reverie. “I’m not letting those idiots take you home.”

I turned from his intense stare. “I didn’t know if you’d want to be with me after”

Damon pinned my shoulders against the seat, leaned across the console, and took advantage of my mouth for several minutes. When he pulled back he threw one more glare at the men. “They can watch you all they want. It’s not going to stop me from being with you.”

I caught a full breath. “Are you sure? I don’t want to involve you in something that could get you hurt.”

Damon grinned. “Every time I’m with you there are more surprises. Being hurt is a lot less risky to me than not being with you.”

I smiled in return but something felt off. Damon truly seemed to like me but was there some other reason he kept pursuing me so hard? The question gave me chills that didn’t quit long after he returned me safely to Nana’s.

Al’s eyes darted around the opulent office. He caught sight of several bottles of barbecue sauce decorating a side table and shivered. He’d never been invited to Ramirez’s barbecues and hoped he never would be. Al shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Staring down at Clive Ramirez left him half-exhilarated, half-terrified. Being surrounded by Clive Ramirez’s heavy hitters left him all-terrified.

Al risked a glance at the giants leering at his nine and three o’clock. There were two more behind him and who knew how many prowling the mansion. Would he live through this interview?

Ramirez looked up from his computer screen. He did not offer them a seat. “A million dollars. I’ve given you a million dollars and you have done
nothing
for me.” He spoke between lips that were so fat they looked permanently swollen. With his tawny mane of hair, shock of freckles, and lithe body he was like a lion ready to spring and tear them apart. He was terrifying without any help from his cronies.

Suddenly the office door flung open. Nick Panetti stormed inside, his eyes darting around until they focused in on Al. “How can you keep failing to kill him?” He turned the force of his gaze on Ramirez. “Let me go get Doc.”

Ramirez smiled slowly. “You had your chance years ago.” He softly tapped his fingers on the desk. “From what I understand, Doc’s beautiful daughter got the best of you.”

Panetti’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll grab the girl. Nathan would come begging to trade his life for hers.”

Ramirez held up a hand. “Please wait for me in the living room.”

Panetti whirled and stomped from the room, slamming the door.

Ramirez arched an eyebrow at Al as if waiting for him to grovel. “Sir,” Al began. “We are the ones who discovered Nathan Christensen is still alive. You have to let us have another chance at killing him for you.”

Ramirez’s eyes traveled lazily over Al, a predator savoring the moment when he'd rip out the jugular. “I
have
to?”

“Well, um, we would appreciate it,” Al stuttered. Terry turned to him with bright eyes. He also knew they were steps away from an ugly death.

“You would
appreciate
it.” Ramirez laughed dryly. “Yes, I’m sure you would.” Ramirez clicked something on the computer screen then looked back up at them. He obviously didn’t need to stand taller than someone to intimidate them. “You shot Nathan and his wife two years ago. Nathan miraculously survived. I paid you for that blunder, as well as this one.”

He stared until Al couldn’t resist tugging at the collar of his button-down shirt. Why had he dressed nice for his own funeral?

“You captured Nathan last week and he got the better of you. You chased him up a
canyon
,” he paused to emphasize their stupidity, “and barely escaped the local police. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, ‘Three strikes you are my barbecue meat?’”

Ramirez’s worshippers chuckled. Terry turned white as a burial shroud. Al wasn’t sure if he should drum up a sniveling reply or remain still for the pronouncement. The laughing stopped and silence reigned until he didn’t know if he could take it anymore.

“I will allow you one more chance,” Ramirez said. “Do you know why?”

Al shook his head, allowing himself to breathe again.

A thin smile turned Ramirez’s fat lips. “You’ve got one more chance because you know what will happen if you mess up.” He paused, his puffy lips widening. “No mistakes this time. I have others who are steadily getting closer to Nathan’s family. If they succeed in flushing him out first . . .” He stared until Al couldn’t meet his eye anymore.

Al grabbed Terry’s arm. “We understand.” He pulled Terry backwards out of the office, supporting his sagging partner.

*
         
*
         
*

The canyon wind bit at my bare legs. I bounced at the starting line of The Top of Utah Marathon. Damon stood by my side with Hot Redhead lurking next to him. She leaned into a hamstring stretch. I tried not to gawk, but no one looks that good with their bum to the world.

“You promise not to try and stay with me today?” Damon asked.

I sighed. “If I must.” I lowered my voice. “As long as you promise to ditch Hot Redhead.”

Damon chuckled. “Done. You know I prefer brunettes.”

I grinned. “That’s good news.” I looked around. Serious runners hedged me in on all sides. I doubted anyone else was stopping eight miles short of the finish line and hadn’t paid for the race. I was the only one without a number and timing chip. I stuck out like a hot-pink dress at a funeral. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Damon squeezed my hand. “I know one of the sponsors. I explained you needed a safe training run.”

I shook my head. “And convinced him to let me do a partial race?”

“I showed him your picture on my cell phone.” Damon winked.

Damon was such a nice guy, always helping me with my training. I’d been a little leery of him after our last date, but my dad had made sure Damon wasn’t involved with Muscle Man or any of the other scary guys chasing my dad. What a relief.

A man with a megaphone spent a few minutes pushing the crowd behind the starting line then he raised a pistol, shot the thing, and we were off.

I didn’t attempt to stay with Damon and surprisingly, neither did Hot Redhead. For some unknown reason, she stuck to me like peanut butter on toast.

We cruised down Blacksmith Fork Canyon. The road was lined with mountainous walls and loads of trees. The sun crested the ridge behind us. The rays from the sun and the exertion from my run finally warmed me up. Every few minutes I glimpsed my bike-riding protectors, the same two agents from the other night. Safety was a wonderful thing. I wanted to enjoy the scenic run and relish how great my legs felt chopping up the miles, but Hot Redhead’s presence torqued me. “Damon’s up there.” I pointed down the twisting road then shooed her with my fingers. “Run along now.”

She smiled. “Maybe I’m not interested in Damon.”

My stomach tightened. My head darted to the side. “Okay, now that terrifies me more than anything else you’ve said or done.”

Elizabeth laughed. An actual laugh. It was as pretty as the rest of her. “I’m not interested in you, either. I’m just making sure you stay away from Damon.”

“How you gonna do that?”

Elizabeth strode down the road like a champ but she didn’t give me any more information.

I concentrated on the excruciating pace Elizabeth set. Darn my pride. “So you just can’t stand Damon liking me?” I asked after several miles of silence. The day was really warming up or maybe it was my frustration with Hot Redhead, sweat dribbled down my chest, soaking my sports bra.

That made her smile again. “Someday you’ll understand my purpose.”

I stared at her. I didn’t like the way she was talking. All mature.

We’d just passed the aid station at mile thirteen and shot out of the canyon onto Nibley Hollow Road when Elizabeth got it into her head to engage me in civil conversation. “Tell me about yourself.”

I stared at the beautiful homes spaced along the roadside, towering two-story estates seeking anonymity behind lush trees and bushes. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to enjoy the scenery.”

“Can’t we make an attempt at being friends?”

“I think that poop went down the septic line a long time ago.”

Her delicate brow wrinkled. “He said you have an interesting way of phrasing things.”

My head whirled. I stared into her clear green eyes. “Who said that?” It didn’t sound like something Damon would say, but maybe. A smile grew on my face. If Damon said it that would mean he talked about me when they were out to dinner.

“No one.” Elizabeth focused on the pavement.