Deadly Seduction (11 page)

The route Max took to the San Diego Airport was eerily familiar.
Exit 5 onto Sassafras. First right to remote parking.
Even the swirling patches of fog prodded his memory. Like he’d just driven here last week.

Except he had no freakin’ clue what he’d really done last week. Or last month. Or last year. This ability to read and influence others obviously didn’t apply to himself.

His concept of linear time was skewed. He kept getting little flashes of recall, but they made no sense, felt out of sequence. Some even felt fabricated.

Wasn’t that perfect?

He’d been gone two years. But it felt like more. Like his entire past was gone. Was that the amnesia Erin had mentioned? Or the lingering effects of the sedatives? Hopefully
both
were short term. Because he wanted and needed answers—fast.

Where he’d been wasn’t nearly as pressing as the question of what had been done to him. And even that question paled in the face of the near panic he felt over forgetting what he was supposed to do next.

The feeling of something undone, something incomplete, ate at him. What was it?

Without warning, the dull ache that had lumbered in the back of his head since awakening spiked. His vision tunneled. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, squeezing the hard plastic.

Concentrating on the tactile helped. He noticed he was panting—which also helped. A voice inside his head automatically began counting.
One thousand one, one thousand two.

Okay, voices in the head weren’t good. But neither was the alternative: passing out while driving. He needed a better distraction. Thoughts of Erin crept in. Naked Erin. His mind began to wander in ways it hadn’t in a long time. Yeah, that was a hell of a lot nicer than counting.

And almost immediately his field of vision expanded, pushing back the headache.

Okay, he’d just learned something valuable. As long as he kept his thoughts on a present-moment task—say counting, or more preferably, a hot fantasy—he could control the pain. Brief thoughts, little hit-andrun wonderings, small conjectures, were tolerable.

Effort was relative. The longer and harder he tried to remember, the worse it hurt. And trying to recall anything about his imprisonment made his skull feel like it was being pried off his neck.

For now, the simpler he kept things, the better. Erin could help him sift through the messy details later.

He glanced over at her. She looked to be asleep. He had reclined the passenger seat and buckled her in to add to the illusion.

He didn’t feel guilty for drugging her. She would have doped him up without hesitation if he’d displayed any instability.

And later on, when she woke up pissed—no psychic power needed to predict that one—he felt confident in his ability to soothe her. Not that
that
would be unpleasant. Erin had the kind of good looks that hit a man in the midsection. When was the last time he’d felt anything other than a fist there?

Slowing the car, Max pulled into the remote parking lot. Yeah, he’d definitely been here before.

He lowered his window as a lot attendant materialized out of the fog. The lanky kid wore headphones and rocked his head to the beat of music so loud Max could hear it.

“We’re pretty full,” the kid practically shouted. “There are a few open spots at the back, by the fence. If that doesn’t work, the cashier will let you out, no charge.”

“Thanks.” The rear spots were considered the least desirable to anyone overly concerned with potential theft. Which made them perfect tonight.

“If you hurry, I can flag down the shuttle driver and send him back around,” the kid went on. “Otherwise it’ll be another fifteen, twenty minutes before the next one.”

“Actually we’d prefer to wait.” Max nodded toward Erin. “It’ll give my wife a chance to wake up.”

Taking the ticket, Max drove toward the last row, checking out cars and pole-mounted security cameras as he went.

While there were better ways to obtain a vehicle, theft was expeditious. A car parked in a remote lot meant the owner was more likely to be gone a longer period, buying time before the vehicle was reported stolen.

And cheap parking also attracted older, easier-to-break-into cars that were less likely to have theft recovery devices like this rental car certainly had. He’d spotted a dozen cars he could easily hotwire, a skill the simmering headache warned him not to question.

Ultimately he felt drawn to an older Ford pickup. The truck had four-wheel drive and a slide-in camper in the bed. On some level the rig looked familiar, making him wonder if he had owned one in the past.

Shifting the car into
REVERSE
, he backed into the spot beside the truck, which was also backed in. Climbing out, he moved to the rear of the truck. The bulky cab-over camper blocked one of the security cameras and he hoped the thickening fog would camouflage the rest.

The camper’s rear door had a cheap lock. Twisting the knob while lifting the door and pushing against the frame popped it open without damage.

Max flicked a switch near the door on, then off. A dim yellow light briefly illumined the shabby but clean interior. In addition to the sleeping space over the cab, the camper had a table fitted above bench seats that converted into a second sleeping space. It also had a tiny galley with stove, fridge, sink.

The cabinet closest to the door held a dented metal tool box. He grabbed a screwdriver and flashlight, and then found an unexpected bonus: a black magnetic box with a spare ignition key.

Moving quickly, Max started the engine, then transferred their bags from the rental car’s trunk. Gathering the still unconscious Erin in his arms, he carefully moved her to the front seat of the truck and again posed her as if asleep.

Across the lot, headlights illumined the fog as another vehicle approached. Max climbed in behind the wheel. Tucked behind the visor was the parking ticket. He put on the camo baseball cap that had been left sitting on the front seat. As disguises went, it sucked. But it helped hide his head wound.

He pulled out and followed another car to the exit. The cashier was talking on his cell phone while making change and didn’t give Max more than a cursory glance. Twenty-five dollars later, he was headed back to the interstate.

His primary goal was freedom. No way was he going back to the hospital. What little he’d gleaned from Dr. Winchette’s thoughts had been sobering. Winchette wanted to keep Max and Taz imprisoned and incapacitated with the use of heavy sedatives. Just like Rufin had.

Why
was another issue to address with Erin. Same with the fact that she seemed to distrust Winchette. Or at least that was the impression Max gleaned from her thoughts.

He drove fifty miles south then east before taking an exit and pulling into an all-night gas station with a convenience store.

The truck was below a quarter-tank and he could no longer ignore the fact he was hungry—starving. He was also growing tired. When was the last time he’d slept? Really
slept
versus being drugged?

“Don’t ask questions,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. Erin was still out cold. Even though he’d given her only part of the drug, he wasn’t worried about her waking anytime soon. But he didn’t want anyone bothering her while he went inside to prepay for gas so he eased her down on the bench seat and then locked her in.

The store, obviously popular with truckers, was busy. Max filled the counter with premade sandwiches, donuts, cookies, candy, milk, coffee, and orange juice. He grabbed peanuts from the counter display just before the clerk totaled his purchase.

She flirted, teasing him about his grocery selections. “Going camping with an army?”

“Yeah. Old friends.”

“The lake’s pretty this time of year,” she said. “Less crowded now that school’s back in.”

“The lake?”

“Baldwin Park?” She paused while bagging his purchases. “I figured you were camping there.”

“Right.” Max remembered seeing the directional sign with camping icons as he exited the interstate. “How much farther is it?”

“Two, three miles. Just turn left when you pull out of here. Which campground are you looking for?”

“Good question,” he ad-libbed. “I need to check the note my buddy sent. Guess I figured there’d only be one.”

The girl smiled and shoved his bags forward. “Actually, there are two. You’ll come to Haverhills first; it’ll be on the right. But it’s rather, um, old-fashioned; I bet your friends are at the county park. Just keep going to the dead end. Off season, the spots are first come, first serve. If your friends didn’t get you a spot, there’s an honor system box by the office. If you use cash, be sure it’s exact. The sign says someone comes by daily to make change, but I know that doesn’t always happen during the week.”

“Thanks for your help.”

Gathering his bags, Max returned to the truck. Erin hadn’t moved. He tucked the bags on the floorboard before pumping fuel.

The gas fumes made his headache worse and made him nauseous. By the time he’d finished, he wondered if he could drive. Fatigue was bearing down fast. He needed to focus: Food—sleep—Erin.

She was still stretched out across the front seat. Max lifted her shoulders and slid in behind the wheel before letting her head rest on his thigh.

Peeling the lid off the coffee, he gulped half of it down and then devoured two of the sandwiches. The food helped more than the coffee, but not enough. He needed to find a secure place to pull over.

Following the clerk’s directions, he headed for the county campground. Worse case, he’d park in the woods and grab a few hours’ sleep.

As it turned out, the campground had two spots open. He studied the park map, then grabbed one envelope and crammed money into it.

It was after 4 a.m. now and the tiny solar lights marking the rutted gravel road were practically invisible in the dark and fog.

Lot number seven was small. Farthest from the lake, it was the least scenic, but most private. Grabbing the flashlight, Max climbed out of the cab. A short distance away a dog barked. A muffled voice yelled, “Shut up!”

Inside the camper he lowered the dining table and rearranged the cushions, converting it to a bed. Once again he had the sense that this was familiar, that he’d camped like this before. Often. Grabbing the blankets and pillows from the claustrophobic space above the cab, he finished making the bed.

Back outside, he gathered Erin up and locked the truck’s cab. She fit comfortably in his arms, no big feat considering she was unconscious. He laid her on the makeshift bed, and tugged off her shoes.

Yeah, he was definitely attracted to her. The black pants, black top, and blazer she wore didn’t look comfortable to sleep in, but he wasn’t about to undress her. Tonight wasn’t about comfort. It was about sleep. Just enough to take the edge off.

He snagged some of the rope he’d spotted in one of the cabinets and tied her hands loosely. The idea was more to slow her down than to confine her. There was a small part of him that questioned whether he would ever wake up. And if that were the case, well, he didn’t want her to feel trapped.

Kicking off his shoes, he crawled onto the bed beside her. The space was so small he ended up lifting her so he could lie diagonally. Then, since there was no space left, he settled her on top of his chest. His arms encircled her, holding her in place. The truck felt like it was spinning now.

The headache mushroomed and he felt dizzy again. He closed his eyes as lights strobed inside his skull.

Movies.

Pictures.

The images made no sense.

Then he had a brief glimmer of Taz. Where was he? Once again Max had a sense he was supposed to do something. The sense of incompletion made him feel even sicker.

Don’t forget…our plan.

Taz had shouted those words at him during their last mission…

Northeast Thailand Jungle
October 10
Eleven Months Ago

“I count four rebels. Confirm, over.” Hades melted back into the jungle, once again indistinguishable from the night.

“Check.” Taz’s whisper came over his earpiece. “One circling the perimeter, one guarding the cave. The two we followed in are chowing down by the fire.”

“Good. Time to close down this freak show. Ready?”

“Roger that.”

“Hold your position until I neutralize their scout. Then we’ll move in.”

Hades crept through the moonlit foliage. The caves that honeycombed this area were popular with the Thai rebels, who ferried stolen weapons across the borders.

This wasn’t the first time they’d raided this particular encampment, but if Hades had his way, it was damn sure going to be the last. Twenty-nine schoolchildren had been killed by missiles linked to this supply line and he was taking it personally.

Circling a rock outcropping, Hades hunkered down. He slid the black blade of his SOG between his teeth, freeing his hands. Off to one side a shadow moved, telegraphing the guard’s approach. He waited until the rebel guard passed, then in one fluid motion, he straightened and stepped onto the path behind the guard. Ensnaring the man’s shoulders with one arm, Hades snatched him backward.

“Shit.” Taz broke in across his earpiece again. “One of ’em failed to raise your mark by radio. Now he’s headed your way.”

Too late.
Behind him a twig snapped.

Hades spun around, taking the rebel he had just captured with him, hoping this newcomer would hesitate at the sight of his comrade as a human shield. Just long enough for Taz to get in place.

Having led with his gun, the new rebel squeezed off several rounds. The muzzle blast lit up the night. Hades felt his captive’s body jerk as if bullets were slamming into him.

His captive was screaming now, but not in death throes. Hades caught a few words.
Wrong bullets. Use knife.

Instead the other rebel threw down his weapon and ran screaming toward the camp.

“He’s headed back your way,” he warned Taz.

But there was no reply.

The man he held tried to drop low and kick free. Hades countered, slitting the man’s throat and shoving him away in one motion.

Pulling out twin nine-millimeter Glocks, one in each fist, Hades raced back toward the camp. In the eerie firelight, he saw Taz on the ground wrestling with one of the rebels. Another rebel moved in from behind, his knife drawn and aimed at Taz’s back.

Hades charged forward, both Glocks blazing. The rebel with the knife stopped and straightened as Hades continued firing. But the rebel didn’t fall. Taking dead aim, Hades squeezed off shot after shot at the now-fleeing rebel’s back.

Wrong bullets.
As in
blanks
?

Taz staggered to his feet, having killed the rebel with his bare hands.

“What the fuck?” Taz pulled his own weapon and fired repeatedly at the rebel’s corpse. It was all noise.

“Leave it,” Hades shouted.
They’re coming.
“Run. Get away.”

A loud squelching noise filled the air as they took off running.

“Do you remember what comes next?” Taz shouted.

You will do what we say.

We control you.

You have no choice but to comply.

A low-flying helicopter circled directly overhead. Its blinding searchlight snared them in a beam.

“Split up. They can’t follow us both,” Hades shouted. “Remember our plan!”

Taz nodded. “Two weeks. If you’re not there, I’ll come looking for you.”

“Same here. Now go!”

Hades dashed out of the light but could only evade it for a few seconds. When it picked him up again, it stayed on like a death ray.

He heard a different type of gun fire; the mechanized burst from a pneumatic air gun. Multiple tranquilizer darts hit his back, neck, and buttocks. Shit!

For him it was over. Running would only make it worse. But still he pressed on, would keep going until he dropped.

If he could buy Taz a few minutes…to make good his escape.

They were…each other’s…only…hope…