Gone Duck #5 (Romantic Suspense) (2 page)

She blamed her response on the fact that she'd
been imagining Lacrosse chasing her. But the arms that reached out and grabbed
her weren't Lacrosse's. And if it weren’t for a familiar strap across his
shoulder, she might never have believed it was Shawn who grabbed her.

She sounded like an idiot, unable to stop
screaming even after she realized who he was.

“What's wrong?” he demanded. “What's happened?”

She had to back away from him and bend over to
catch her breath. And then she lost it again, laughing like a hyena.

“Macey, look at me. What's going on?”

Dave joined them. “Looks like you gave her a
scare.”

She stood up, sensing the parking lot filling with
testosterone. The Beanie Boys gathered around them. Obviously they'd sensed it
too and didn't want to miss the ego battle brewing on the asphalt.

“I was... I was jogging around the parking lot
while we were waiting for you. You just scared me, that's all.”

Shawn looked at her as if he thought maybe she was
the true imposter. “
You
were jogging?”

She tried to give him a little warning look. “Yes.
You know how we've just been sitting around the hotel for days on end. I was
just stretching my legs.”

He tilted his head. She was beginning to hate when
he did that.

“Keefer? Mort? Who are you?”

“Very funny.” She shoved him away from her and
headed for the van, slinging off her backpack as she went. She wished there was
a bottle of water tucked inside it still. She climbed in the van and refused to
make eye contact with anyone.

“You want to get in the back row?” Dave asked. “So
you won't be seen?”

“Nope. Tinted windows. I'll be fine.”

Gammon and another jostled each other climbing to
the back row, silently letting her know it would have been much easier for them
if she would have done as Dave suggested. She resisted the urge to respond. It
wouldn't have been pretty—not that she felt particularly pretty at the moment
with sweat dripping along her scalp under her hair.

The joy of exercise once again eluded her.

Shawn climbed in and scooted onto the middle seat
with her. Dave got in the driver’s seat and Kofford climbed in the passenger
side. Both of them donned painter’s masks.

“No,” she said to herself, trying to sound like a
man. “Nothing suspicious here.” Then she laughed.

Shawn gave her a stern look, then leaned forward.
“Did you drug her?” he asked Dave.

“Of course not. Look,
buddy
, I’ve done all
I promised, haven’t I? When are you going to believe I’m on your side?”

Shawn shrugged. “I appreciate you getting us out
of the hotel. You were right. They would have nailed us for sure if we’d been
together.”

She rolled her eyes. “So I had a bad idea. I get
it.”

Shawn frowned at her again, then leaned close to
whisper in her ear. “What’s wrong with you?”

She frowned back, then cupped her hand around his
ear to whisper back. “I’m just a little giddy I guess. I didn’t think I’d ever
see you again.” Then for no reason, she suddenly burst into tears.

“Babe?” Dave said, nervously. “Shawn. What the
hell did you say to her?”

She recognized the rescue-mode in Dave’s voice. It
just made her cry harder. She had absolutely no control. All she could do was
ride it out and hope Shawn was still there when she stopped.

He put his arms around her and pulled her against
his chest. “Maybe she’s just relieved to be out,” he lied.

A long minute passed with her making the only
sound in an otherwise silent vehicle. Finally, Dave turned on some music, and
the men all sighed in unison.

All cried out, she straightened away from Shawn
and sat up. She needed a tissue, but the van’s black interior revealed nothing.
Not so much a piece of lint, or a straw from a fountain drink. When they turned
the van back to whomever they’d leased it from, it probably wouldn’t even have
fingerprints left behind, let alone stray fibers or DNA.

She zipped open her backpack and started digging.
If she found so much as a sock, she’d be happy. But there was nothing small
besides a pair of lace panties, and she wasn’t about to pull them out to share
with The Boys, even if she had snot running down to her chin. Then she
remembered the little pocket behind the flap. She’d put a small wrapper of
tissues in it after a gas station stop. It was also the last place she’d put
the duck before the old trucker-woman had chucked it out her window.

She zipped the pocket open and reached inside. No
tissues.

Only a rubber-freaking-duck.

“Gaaah! That's disgusting!” Gammon said from
behind her, after watching her blow her nose into the crotch of the lavender
lace panties and shove them back into the backpack.

“They were clean,” she said, defensively. “And
maybe that will teach you to mind your own business.”

Shawn's brows knit together with a combination of
concern and horror, his back against the door.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a wink.

He actually winced.

She gave him a fierce frown and urged him closer
with a crook of her finger.

He wasn't happy to comply, but he did. When he was
close enough, she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear.

“
You
didn't…check…
all
the little
pockets,” she said, then sat straight and waited for him to figure out what
she'd meant by it. A full minute passed with no response, so she opened the
flap of the backpack, while keeping her eyes on the road, and pointed to the
little zipper. She finally had to nudge him and look down. His hand moved over
and opened the pocket, then ventured inside and froze.

She looked into his eyes. He stared back in shock.
She shook her head ever so slightly. He nodded once and covered the action by
rolling his head around his shoulders and doing a little neck pop.

She zipped the pocket closed and wondered if he
was remembering what he'd said about the backpack, how she should cling to it
like it still contained the duck.

The thought popped into her head on its own.
Had
he known?

She looked at him sharply. He frowned sharply like
he had read her mind then shook his head once. She relaxed, gratified they'd
been able to carry on the entire conversation in silence. They were in
agreement. They wouldn’t share the information with Dave. Their little duck was
an ace in the hole and they were going to keep it between themselves.

Suddenly, she had enough energy to jog around
another parking lot.

“This is it,” Dave announced and pulled off the
freeway, taking the airport exit.

She looked at the high fences and worried.
“Lacrosse isn't watching the airport?”

“Don't worry, babe. We've got this covered.” Dave
took another exit with signs for small aircraft. “We're taking a small plane to
Calgary. From there, a private jet to Belgium. You're going to love it.”

Shawn was frowning again. “Hey,
buddy
. What
have you done with Dorothy Jean?”

Dave flipped him off over his shoulder and pulled
into an open hangar. There was a small plane inside and beside it, sitting in a
camping chair, wearing a men's blue jumpsuit and sipping on a sprite, was a
laughing Dorothy Jean. Unless it was the bald old man she’d been dressed up
like. But Macey doubted an old man would have covered his head with a peach
floral scarf. The back of it flapped in unison with a small U.S. flag on a pole
at the corner of the little hangar. The woman was definitely enjoying her
release from Davenport Prison even though one of The Boys stood beside her,
most likely armed.

Macey was hit with another heavy wave of relief.
Dave was right. He'd done everything he'd promised. She felt horrible for doubting
him, and yet, her gut told her to trust Shawn's instincts. He'd done everything
he'd promised, too.

Besides the pilot, the small plane could only hold
five of them and the luggage Shawn and Kofford had been able to bring from the
hotel. When they climbed aboard, she prayed silently that Gammon wouldn't be
the fifth man. But it was Kofford who filled the last seat.

In a farewell salute to the creepy man, she blew
him a kiss...off her middle finger.

Shawn watched, shook his head, then leaned back
and went to sleep. Dorothy Jean had already beaten him to it and snored from
the back row, next to Kofford. After they were in the air, Macey nodded off,
still feeling like everything from that moment on was a bonus she couldn’t
complain about.

*            *            *

“Here's your passport.” Shawn nudged her awake. It
took a second for her to reconcile the face with the voice. He was still
wearing the stupid nose, and the little extra flaps of skin near his eyes.
“Read it. Put the wig back on.”

She looked over his shoulder while he studied his
own. He didn't look anything like the guy in the photo, with or without the
nose. She opened her passport. A Latino woman. Fernanda Ortega. 5'2”. No way
would anyone believe it was her.

“Don't worry, babe.” Dave smiled from the co-pilot
seat. “We've got people on the ground. You're a couple of bigshots from
Hollywood, trying to evade the media. You're using borrowed passports, but
you're harmless. And you're taking your grandpa along because he's never been
able to travel.”

She gasped. “We're going to walk through customs?
With our photos all over the place?”

“No. Customs is going to come to us.”

Tension rose in direct proportion to their descent
into the Calgary airport. All Macey could do was hold on and pray until it was
over.

Shawn pried her hand from the armrest between them
and rubbed her fingers. “Nothing we can do now, right?”

“Right. Our fate is definitely not in our hands.”

“So, no need to stress, right?”

She laughed. “I won't if you won't.”

He looked down at her hand and licked his lips. “I
can distract you a little, I think.” He glanced up, but his gaze stopped at her
lips.

She sat up a little straighter. “Oh? How's that?”

He smiled and released her hand. She hoped
whatever he had in mind was good, because the hand massage had been pretty
distracting on its own. He lifted the armrest and it disappeared between their
chairs. She got pretty excited by the possibilities.

“You going to massage more than just my hand?”

He shook his head. “Just two things.”

Her eyes widened uncontrollably. She opened her
mouth to protest, sure she knew just what two things he had in mind, but he
pressed a finger to her lips.

“These two things.” He ran that finger along her
top lip, then her bottom.

“Oh. That's okay, then.”

He nodded slowly. “I thought you would approve.
Now, turn around and face the window, then lean back and turn toward me. For
once, we're going to get this right.”

She did what he said, then realized he was
brilliant. “Just how many times have you...in a plane...”

“Stop thinking,” he growled, and pulled her into
his arms.

Their mouths had been melded together for a few
blissful moments when Dave protested.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Shawn broke the kiss to answer. “Working our
cover,
buddy
. Remember? It was your idea.” His lips returned to hers,
thankfully.

“Look. You're steaming up the windows,” Dave
whined. “You're going to kill us all.”

Everyone chuckled, so she didn't think they were
in danger. And she definitely didn't allow Shawn to look up and check visibility
either.

He did pull back, however, when the plane hit a
little turbulence. “I think we'd better cool off for a minute before we have to
get off the plane.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You want to be able to walk in a
straight line, don't you?”

She sighed and nodded half-heartedly.

He snorted and lifted her away from him. She saw
her reflection in the window. Black hair. Swollen lips. If she could add a
current picture to the passport, no one would believe she was Macey McDaniels.

She got her seatbelt back on just a heartbeat
before they touched down. The cabin was dark as they taxied to a strip of small
hangars much like the ones they’d left in Spokane. If it weren’t for the
unmistakable flatness that stretched all the way to the horizon, she would think
they’d been tricked into returning to Washington. If it were a nightmare,
they’d be taken back to the Davenport.

When the plane finally stopped just outside the
last hangar, they were met by two black cars with flashing red lights.

“Don’t worry,” Dave said again. But he didn’t sound
like he believed it.

During the flight, Macey had helped Shawn move his
cash from his backpack into hers along with a second, small handgun she hadn’t
known about.

“Trust me,” he’d said.

And with officers waiting for them at the bottom
of the steps, she suddenly remembered the little warning that played over and
over again in airports, warning people not to let anyone con them into carrying
something in their luggage that wasn’t theirs.

Dave stepped around them and climbed down first,
his enchanting smile already in place. Every officer on the ground broke out
into a grin.

“Dave Wells, at his finest,” Shawn grumbled in her
ear.

“Lucky for us. Now, try to act like you’re in love
with me.”

“Done,” he murmured, kissed her behind the ear,
then on the neck. His hand snaked around her waist and he pulled her back
against him. “Don’t drop the backpack, but let it dangle behind you. Maybe they
won’t notice it.”

She would’ve liked to stay right where she was,
enjoying his nearness and the sensations he aroused from her hairline to her
toes, but real life was waiting along with some well-armed people.

She descended steps with Shawn at her back. At the
bottom, a smiling officer directed her to the right where a table had been set
up. The luggage from the back of the plane was already being loaded onto it and
being picked through. Dave stood off to the left, arguing with one of the
Canadians. The man shrugged and shook his head.

“Looks like Dave doesn’t have things so organized
after all. If we’re arrested, don’t say anything. No name. Nothing. Don’t ask
for a lawyer. Just stay where they put you until I can buy our way out.”

“With no money?”

He laughed and kissed her neck. Everyone stopped
and stared at them.

“Your backpacks please.” The officer gestured to
an empty space on the table. Reluctantly, they laid all three packs in front of
him. The man reached for Dorothy Jean’s first.

“The medications all belong to my grandpa,” Macey
said. “He’s eighty.” She hoped that would explain why there were so many.

He looked closely at one of the bottles. “Your
grandfather is named Dorothy?”

“I prefer to be called Dotty,” Dorothy Jean
grumbled from behind them. Her bald look was incredibly disturbing with her
red, bowed lips. They were lucky the light in the hangar was dim or she might
have scared someone.

They handed Dorothy Jean her backpack, then asked
if she had her passport. Macey was pretty sure the passport wouldn’t be for
anyone named Dorothy
or
Dotty.

“Yes, I have it.” Dorothy Jean held it up.

“Good,” the man told her. “You can put it away
now.” He glanced sideways at the officer who stood with Dave. The other man
nodded, then accepted a thick envelope, which earned him another Dave smile.

The man behind the table opened Shawn’s pack next
and pulled out a pair of boxer/briefs, his basketball shorts, a t-shirt, and a
familiar leather coat. Dave suddenly appeared and picked up the jacket. “A
little small for you, sir.”

“It’s hers.” He pointed to her and smiled. “I love
you in this jacket.” He took it from Dave and helped her put it on. Since he
was no longer snuggling up behind her, the chill of the metal building filled
with Canadian air, was finally registering.

“No cash?” Dave looked surprised.

“It’s been an expensive trip.”

His old friend laughed. “I loved how you charged
your fifteen hundred dollar room to Lacrosse’s card.”

Shawn laughed too. “They’ll have a hard time
proving it’s not his signature.”

Dave sobered. “Really, dude. I thought you would
have socked away a lot more than that.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Macey chimed in. “We were
robbed by a couple of truckers.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” Dave said. “The guys who
threw away the duck.”

She tried not to let her nerves show, but she
couldn’t believe they were just standing there, chatting away while she waited
for her bag to be dumped out in front of everyone. What would Shawn do when
they found the money in her bag? Would they confiscate it? And if they pulled
out the duck, Dave would see it. No more ace in the hole.

The officer stuffed the clothes back into Shawn’s
backpack, then reached for the last one.

“You might not want to do that,” he said,
wrinkling his nose.

The officer’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Shawn turned to her. “Do you want to tell him what
you did?”

The man pulled his hands back, but waited for her
answer.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. He was
going to humiliate her, but he might just save their bacon in the process.

Shawn cleared his throat, but it didn’t completely
disguise his amusement. “She blew her nose…on a pair of underwear…” He glanced
heavenward, mortified. “And shoved it back in the bag.”

“There was no tissue,” she whined. “I had no
choice.”

The officer scrunched his face and pushed the
still-closed pack toward her. “Do you have your passports?”

“Yes.” They both pulled them from their pockets
and held them up.

“Thank you. You may put them away now.”

And just like that, it was over.

*            *            *

Dorothy Jean jumped on the offer of a private room
in the back of the plane where, after take-off, she’d be able lie on the bed
and sleep all the way to Belgium if she liked. Macey suspected the room was
intended more for mile-high club members than tired old women, but she happily
helped Dorothy Jean get settled into one of the seats at the foot of the
mattress. Besides, having yet another private space to hide with Hot Shawn was
probably a bad idea.

She stepped back into the main cabin and found
only Kofford there, playing with his phone. The cockpit door was open and she
could clearly see only the two pilots inside.

“Where’s Shawn? And Dave?” she asked Kofford.

He nodded at the open door that led down to the
tarmac. “One of those security guys wanted an autograph. Dave went with him.”

“Why? Who do they think he is?”

Kofford shrugged.

The plane began powering up, and her heart raced,
imagining the impossible—the plane taking off without Shawn. She started for
the door, mentally noting she was carrying her backpack with her so he wouldn’t
worry that she’d left it on the plane unattended.

They weren’t anywhere near the plane. Though the
engines continued warming up, she simply couldn’t leave without him, not after
they’d already made it through so many gauntlets together.

She headed back to the hangar they’d been so
relieved to leave behind. Every ten seconds or so, she glanced back at the
plane to make sure Shawn wasn’t boarding without her. But the only reasonable
place he could be was inside the little building.

The hangar’s big doors were now closed, but there
was light coming through the window of the man door. She peeked inside and
started screaming before she got through the door.

“Nooo!”

Dave’s gun was pressed against Shawn’s temple. Two
of the Canadian security guys held his arms behind him, presumably binding his
hands together. Dave glanced her way, but quickly returned his attention to
Shawn.

“Aw, babe. Why couldn’t you just stay on the
plane?”

“Don’t shoot him, Dave! Please! I’ll do whatever
you ask. Just please, don’t. You would never forgive yourself. Whatever you
guys are fighting over—”

“He’s working for Lacrosse,” Shawn growled.

Macey hid her shock. “Then you were right. I can’t
believe it.”

“I have no choice,” Dave said softly. “He has
Allison.”

Shawn looked sharply at him, past the gun.

“Who’s Allison?” she asked.

“My half-sister.” Dave still didn’t dare take his
eyes off Shawn. “She’s all I have. You’ll just have to understand.”

“Let him go,” she said.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Then I’ll help. I’ll stay with him—”

“No, you won’t. Lacrosse wants you too. And
besides, Dorothy needs you to help keep her calm. If she gets too upset, the
adrenaline will affect the microchip. Now they’re saying too much excitement
may kill her.”

Shawn’s brows knit together. “That’s why Lacrosse
never came barging through the door. He didn’t want to shock her.”

Dave nodded and took a step back, though his gun
remained aimed at Shawn’s head. It was the scene in the hotel room all over
again, but the roles were reversed.

“It’s why he released me. To bring you in and
bring Dorothy back without upsetting her. The doctors won’t be able to salvage
anything if she dies first.”

Shawn shook his head gently. “You’ve been under
his thumb this whole time?”

“Until about a month ago. He resurrected me so I
could help hunt you down.” Dave sounded tired, sad. “I told them to bug Linda
Lyman’s line. I was sure you would try to contact her at some point. Imagine
our surprise when Dorothy called all by herself.”

“Your idea?” Macey’s heart hurt. “Dave! How could
you?”

He cleared his throat. “Get back on the plane,
babe.” The emotion was gone.

She wanted to deck him for calling her babe a
hundred times too many, but she wanted one more favor.

“Can I at least say goodbye?”

He smirked. “Sure. You got him?”

The officers nodded.

She walked the ten feet that separated her from
Shawn, then stood between him and the gun. Dave moved to the left and tsk’d.
“I’m doing you a favor, babe. Don’t be clever.”

She ignored him and looked into Shawn’s eyes.
“See? We knew it was too good to be true.”

He chuckled. “So we’re prepared for this. It’s
easier that way.”

She nudged his knee with the backpack. She glanced
down at it.

Shawn nodded once. “Kiss me.”

She did. And though she tried, she was unable to
communicate anything but her worry. Finally, she stopped trying. “Don’t try to
come after me or Dorothy Jean. Just run. Find a place where Lacrosse can’t find
you. If I can get away, I’ll do the same. Hopefully, no one will find me,
either.”

He rolled his eyes. “You give up too easily, Mace.
You remember that ace in the hole and you play it when you need to, okay?”

“Even if I leave it with you?”

“For safe keeping,” he whispered. “Now start to
walk away.”

She pecked him once more on the lips, then did as
he said.

“Wait!”

She turned back, confused.

“Let me keep those panties, would you?”

Dave grunted. “Gross.”

She ignored him and stepped back to set the
backpack at his feet. “Only if you promise to wash them.”

“Yeah,” Shawn said. “If I get the chance.”

She inhaled deeply, hoping a little oxygen would
help her keep it together. She was leaving him money, a gun, and the duck. One
duck more than Jason Bourne had. He was going to be fine.

“Come on, babe. Get on the plane. I’m doing him a
favor here. Lacrosse wanted his head. And I’m risking pissing off the devil to
let him go.”

“Then why are you?”

“Because. We were partners once. And it’s just too
hard to kill a partner. At least it is for me.”

*            *            *

At the hangar door, Macey turned back, hoping for
one more silent communication with Shawn, but all she got was a glimpse of him
struggling against the hold of the Canadians before Dave pulled her away. She
prayed for a miracle with each step she took toward the waiting jet, with every
stair she climbed, but nothing happened.

“I’ve got injectable tranquilizers for Dorothy,”
Dave said, “in case she gets too worked up about any of this. We’re lucky she’s
survived the day as it is.”

He led her to a seat. “Strap in.” Then he turned
suddenly to Kofford, across the aisle, and shoved the tip of his gun against
the man’s chest, over his heart. He pressed a finger to his lips and nodded
toward the door, where one of the pilots prepared to seal it shut.

“All in?” the man asked.

“Yeah. This is it,” Dave said over his shoulder.

Kofford gave him a black look while the pilot
returned to the cockpit. “Where’s Parker?”

Dave exhaled in a huff. “Dead…in a couple of
minutes.”

Macey gasped. Dave ignored her. She looked out the
little window next to her, but there was nothing to see. The man door of the
hangar was closed. The two black security SUVs hadn’t moved. She scrambled
across the aisle and flipped up the blind, but the angle was wrong. No security
guards. No movement. No Shawn.

She lunged at Dave. “You bastard! You said you
couldn’t kill a partner.” She tried to reach his face, to make sure the man
never smiled again, but he held her wrists. The butt of his gun ground into her
flesh but she didn’t care. She just wanted to hurt him until he took the words
back, until he told her he’d lied, that Shawn was going to be fine.

Dave shrugged. “
I
couldn’t kill my partner.
But I’m sure those Canadians won’t have a problem with it.”

She shrieked and tried to wrench her wrist free so
she could try to take his gun, but it was no use. Dave’s hands held her as
easily as if she were a child throwing a tantrum. Kofford’s arms came around
her and pulled her backward and Dave finally released her.

“Get her into a seatbelt,” he said, gesturing with
his weapon, “but don’t hurt her.”

“Bastard!” she hissed.

Kofford set her in front of a seat, then pressed
her down into it with a hand on her chest. “Stay.” The seatbelt light came on
and the plane started to move. He bent over her and locked her seatbelt across
her lap. “I mean it. Stay. There’s nothing you can do now except hurt yourself,
do you understand?”

She glared into his face and said nothing.

He stepped toward the seat that faced her, but
must have thought better of it and moved back to the seat he’d been in.
“Lacrosse will kill your sister for this,” he snarled at Dave. “He wanted
Parker alive.”