Hot Pursuit (32 page)

“Of course,” Jack said dryly. He swung to his feet and gave Taylor a hard kiss, his hands sliding into her hair. Then he came up for air and did it again so that they both were panting.

Her head tilted. “Are you going to tell me what that was for?”

“I would if I knew.” He ran one hand down her spine, smiling when she shivered. “Can't keep away from you, I guess.” He took a step back and reached for his clothes. “You take the bathroom first. I need to check in with Izzy.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Taylor made a mock salute, then spoiled the military effect with an exaggerated sway of her hips when she turned away.

“Lady, you're going to be the death of me.”

“But what a way to go,” Taylor said huskily as the bathroom door closed.

 

With the lights still out, Jack eased back the curtains, staring into the darkness as he waited for his cell phone to connect.

Izzy's answer was an irritated growl. “What?”

“No more sweet talk?” Jack sniffed as he scanned the parking lot. “You almost in place out there?”

“We'll be right on schedule. You know the plan.”

“Every detail.” Jack tucked in his shirt with one hand, studying the far corner of the parking lot. “Looks like nothing's moving. Let's hope it stays that way.”

“Amen. Hold on a minute.” Izzy's voice faded as he turned away to answer a question. “Rodriguez and her partner checking in,” he explained. “Okay, get your gear. We move on my signal. Five minutes.”

Jack scanned the parking lot. “We'll be good to go in here.”

But he continued to look into the darkness. Was it too quiet? Shouldn't a few cars be moving along the access street?

He rubbed his neck and shrugged away his uneasiness. Training had taught him to focus on facts, not shadows. “We'll be waiting.”

Jack was putting away the phone when Taylor emerged, killer legs encased in snug jeans, damp hair curling around her face. Jack forced back the memories of what they'd just done, angry at his body's instant response to the sight of those soft, flaring hips.

“Put your bag over here.” He tossed her the suede coat from the bed, then checked his weapon and holstered it. “Izzy will be here in four minutes.”

Taylor studied his face as she pulled on her coat. “You're worried, aren't you?”

“Anytime you change locations is a time of vulnerability. Things can always go wrong.” He pulled out the two oversized cowboy hats that Izzy had left him and shoved one on his head with a grimace. “Teague always did have a nasty sense of humor.”

“Gee, I kinda like it, Bubba.”

Jack's only answer was a snort as he tossed the other hat to Taylor. “At least this should throw off anyone looking for our faces.”

Soft footsteps scuffed outside the door. Jack touched a finger to his lips, and Taylor nodded.

There was one loud tap, then four more in rapid fire. Jack pulled back the chain and opened the door.

Nancy Rodriguez frowned, her back to the parking lot. “Let's move. Our van's waiting—”

The same instant she spoke, bullets tore out of a parked car twenty feet away. Rodriguez grunted a protest, spun sideways, and fell back into Jack's arms, covering them both with blood.

“Get into the bathroom,” Jack shouted to Taylor, pulling the fallen agent inside and slamming the door as a hail of bullets took out the front window. “Do it
now
.” There was warm blood on his fingers as he charged for the bathroom, locked the door, and shoved Taylor into the shower.

Her face was sheet-white beneath the big hat, but he didn't have time to comfort her. He didn't even have time to check the agent bleeding on the rug outside, though it countered all his instincts.

Because it would take every bit of his energy and focus to keep Taylor alive.

He knew the hotel layout by heart and breathed a prayer of thanks for Izzy's counterplan, kept secret from the rest of the team. The small screen above the shower was unscrewed, just as Jack had left it, and it popped free into his hands. In three seconds the window was open and he was holding out his hands to Taylor.

“
Go
. A car's waiting.”

She scrambled up, clutching at the window frame, asking no questions as he boosted her into the opening.

“Look down,” Jack said tightly. “Can you see Izzy?”

“Right below me.”

“Then get moving.”

Jack watched her jump down. As prearranged in the event of an attack, Izzy had cut around to the back of the building, where he was waiting to catch Taylor, hurrying her into a green van idling on the sidewalk.

Behind him, Jack heard the front door explode with a crack. Knowing Taylor was safe with Izzy, he felt a burning urge to protect the fallen agent. He was turning back when automatic weapon fire hammered the room next door, and Jack realized it was too late to help Nancy Rodriguez. Nothing could have escaped that devastation.

He climbed into the window and dropped into the darkness, the sound of gunfire burning in his ears as he sprinted along the sidewalk. The van was already moving when he grabbed the open door and jumped inside. More gunfire exploded behind him, followed by a new burst from the back of the building.

Something stabbed at Jack's shoulder. He sighted toward the incoming burst, squeezed off four shots, and had the pleasure of an echoing scream of pain. One less bastard to hunt down later, he thought grimly.

He slammed the door while Izzy fishtailed around a line of cars. Two figures raced toward them from the back of the building, firing steadily. Izzy ran one down and careened past the other into a nearby alley, following the escape route that had been kept secret from everyone but Jack.

Now all the rules were off.

Now they could trust no one.

Chapter Thirty-five

“What the
hell
happened?” Jack braced his body against the van's metal wall as Izzy weaved into one alley and out the next.

“We were sold out, that's what.”

Jack held his pistol tightly against his leg. “I want the bastard's name.”

“Get in line.” Izzy's fingers clenched on the wheel as he gunned along the half-empty streets. “Payback is going to be a
real
pleasure.” There was raw fury in each word. “Nancy Rodriguez's niece was going to college next week. She invited me to a big send-off bash.” Izzy glared out at the rainy darkness. “We can't help her now, so put it away, both of you. She was a pro, and for her, the mission came first. Taylor, are you hurt?”

“No.” Her voice was a wisp of sound.

“Damn it, Jack, check her.”

Jack was already stripping away her jacket and the purse she'd clutched to her chest. He searched her upper body for bullet wounds or cuts from falling glass, which she might not even feel. In a killing zone, the world flashed into a twilight rush of noise and violence, with normal sensations blurred beneath the pump of adrenaline. As a SEAL, he'd seen how serious wounds could go unnoticed until it was too late.

“She's fine. A lot of blood, but most of it's from Rodriguez,” he said grimly.

“Most?” Izzy spared precious seconds to look back at Jack. “Were you hit?”

Jack grunted. “Took a round in the arm. Feels like it went right through.”

“Get my medical kit from the passenger seat and take off your shirt,” Izzy barked. “We've got to clean you up.”

Jack shrugged off his bloody jacket and was reaching for his shirt when Taylor pushed away his hands.

Her lips were set in a hard line. “I'll do it.” She flinched when she felt the blood covering his arm, then took two quick breaths. “Okay, here's what I see, Izzy. He's got an entry wound at the side of his arm, but I can't tell the exit point. There's too much blood.” She took another breath, studying the jagged wound in the flicker of streetlights as the van shot onto the freeway, headed north. “What do I do next?”

“You're going to need the red box.” Izzy glanced back, frowning. “Sure you can handle this?”

“I'm sure.” Taylor's voice was cold. “Just tell me what to do.”

 

They changed cars in Walnut Creek and again near Benicia, just beneath the shadow of the big bridge. Thanks to Izzy's contacts, they were met in each location, and no one asked questions or mentioned the bloody clothes Jack had left in the van.

Two hours later they were headed toward Carson City, Nevada, eating up the miles in a big red Chrysler. Taylor had slept for a while, then taken the wheel so Izzy could check her handiwork and stitch up Jack's arm.

“Here's the bad news. No tennis for a month,” Izzy muttered.

Jack stared out at the darkness. “Tell that to Nancy Rodriguez.”

“Put it away, Broussard. She knew her job,” Izzy said quietly. “She knew when she walked out the door each morning, it might be a one-way trip.”

“Is that supposed to make her death acceptable?” Jack growled, shoving his fist against the doorframe.

“No, it's supposed to make you start being smart. Put the emotions behind you, because they can only get you killed.”

After a long time Jack released an angry breath. “I know the drill, Izzy. I've lost men in firefights before, but never when my own side started the cross fire. Only a coward runs.”

“Right now, only a fool would stay,” Izzy said flatly. “Anyone could have set you up. I don't know who I can trust.”

Jack grimaced as he tried to move his shoulder. “What story will you give Admiral Braden when you get back?”

Izzy's face was a study in quiet violence beneath the passing lights. “I'll report that you were taken by unknown assailants, and I followed you as far as the airport freight terminal, where I lost you despite my best efforts. I'll also report that you were both hit by substantial fire before you were taken. It's even possible you didn't survive.”

Jack smiled for the first time since he'd heard the tap at the hotel room door. “Not bad, Teague. For a computer geek, you lie pretty good.”

Izzy muttered a low answer that had Jack laughing.

In the front seat, Taylor was getting edgy. She looked back at the two men. “If this lovely moment of male bonding is done, maybe one of you could tell me where I'm supposed to turn off.” Her fingers were white where they clutched the wheel.

“You're doing great.” Izzy leaned forward. “The exit's about three miles ahead on the left. Watch for a gold Cadillac.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were supposed to be inconspicuous.”

“Rule number one.” Izzy's voice took on the smooth rasp of his female alter ego. “Hide in plain sight, sugah. Nobody going to look for you in a big, gold Cadillac.” His voice morphed back to normal. “Besides, I used up a lot of favors getting you here, so I didn't have many options left.” He nodded as a green exit sign flashed in the glare of the headlights. “There it is, Taylor. Head east at the ramp. He'll be parked in an abandoned drive-in about three miles up the road.” Izzy reached into his medical kit and pulled out a black zippered bag. “Suck it in, Navy.” He held up a wicked-looking syringe. “Time for your yearly shots.”

“Navy?” Taylor glanced back, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“I'll tell you later.” Jack stared at the exit ramp as Izzy went to work with the syringe.

 

It was still dark when they said grim good-byes outside a run-down diner in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Izzy had done most of the driving, and after four car changes, they were nearly certain that no one had followed, especially since Izzy had been careful to toss their government pagers and cell phones into the first garbage truck they had passed rumbling out of San Jose.

Global positioning systems were standard on current tactical communications issue, and they were leaving no clues to contradict Izzy's forthcoming report. During the long ride, he and Jack had worked out a solid story about the firefight outside the hotel. Only one person would know it was a lie, and that was the insider who had betrayed them.

Izzy was determined to find out who that was.

Taylor gave Izzy a shaky kiss. “That's for saving my life. I owe you big time.” She tried for a grin. “Want to be in my next book?”

“Only if I get to beat up the SEAL at the end.”

“What SEAL?” Jack leaned against the side of the gray Explorer, scanning the highway.

“Beats me.” The humor faded from Izzy's eyes. “Watch your six o'clock, Broussard. These people are damned slick. I'd come with you, but I have to stay and run damage control.”

Coffee steamed in a big thermos as Jack slid behind the wheel and waited for Taylor to stow her purse. Then he reached up to shake hands with Izzy. “What Taylor said. You know.” He cleared his throat. “Ditto.”

Izzy cocked his head. “Don't tell me I get to be in your book, too?”

Jack slanted him an irritated look and started to speak, but Izzy cut him off. “I'll collect on any favors when I know you two are safe.” He pushed away from the Explorer and swept a glance across the deserted road. “Better get moving. You should be able to make your destination in about ten hours.” His eyes narrowed. “Remember the five-minute rule.”

“Will do.”

As the sun cleared the horizon, Jack raised a hand, and the Explorer headed east into the bloodred light of dawn.

 

“What did he mean by five-minute rule?”

“You know Izzy.” Jack rolled his shoulders. “It's one of his jokes.”

“I don't believe you.”

Jack gave a half-grin. “You don't believe
anyone
.”

Maybe he was right. Taylor realized she was exhausted, and she wasn't thinking straight. With the adrenaline rush finally wearing off, her body had turned sluggish.

Fighting sleep, she stared into the sunrise. “Are you a SEAL?”

“Does it matter?”

“If I weren't so exhausted, it would. I don't like being lied to.”

“Whatever you were told was necessary, Taylor.”

“People usually say that to justify hurting someone.” She watched a hawk glide through pink clouds. “So where are we headed?”

“Arizona.”

“I have some friends in Tucson,” she said. “We met at a great spa last year.”

“There won't be any aromatherapy wraps where we're headed,” Jack said grimly. “Almost is strictly a meat-and-potatoes kind of place.”

“Almost what?”

“Almost, Arizona. That's where we'll be staying until we hear from Izzy.”

Taylor rested her head against the seat. “Do you think he can find the leak?”

“He will.” Jack's voice was grim. “Nancy Rodriguez was a good friend. He's got a personal score to settle.”

Taylor frowned at him. “I thought it wasn't supposed to be personal.”

“Tell that to Izzy.”

Taylor remembered Izzy's face when he'd hustled her into the van. “Good.” She shuddered at the memory of the fallen agent in a pool of blood. “I only wish I could help.”

“You can help by thinking about those questions Izzy asked.”

“Every contact I had with Rains or Candace, you mean. Sorry, but I still don't believe that Candace is involved in anything criminal.” Taylor blinked, trying to keep her eyes open, not that there was much to see on the winding road.

Jack drank some coffee, then looked across at her. “No need to stay awake. Except for necessities, we're not stopping until we get to Arizona. There's a blanket in the backseat if you want to stretch out.”

“I'll stay up here.” The truth was, Taylor didn't want to be out of touching range. The smell of blood and fear and gunfire overwhelmed her when she closed her eyes. Only the nearness of Jack's body held the horror at bay.

She wedged her pillow between them. He didn't speak when she ran her hand along his chest, then curled up closer.

He was too experienced with death not to know that she was fighting bad memories.

“Put it out of your mind, Taylor.”

“How?” She took a raw breath. “It's one thing to see death in your head and plot the entry wound from different angles. It's one thing to know the motive, assailant, and murder weapon.” She fought a wave of pain and regret. “It's something else entirely when you watch someone fall, hear their breath cut away, and know they died for one reason—because they were protecting
you
. If I hadn't gotten involved with Rains, none of this would have happened.” Her voice tightened. “If I'd been smart, Nancy Rodriguez might still be alive, too.”

Jack's callused fingers gripped her shoulder. “Forget the guilt. Whoever took out Agent Rodriguez was after a lot more than you or me. The only way you'll stay focused is to remember that.”

Taylor thought about his words, watching clouds boil up behind mountains that rose like dark sentinels to the south. “Does staying focused make you feel better?”

His hands clenched. “Not much.”

At least he was honest.

“So what do you do?”

“You live with it. You pray that someday you won't see the image of a bloody chest or a broken body as if it had happened yesterday. And you make a vow that sometime, some way, the death will be avenged.” His fingers slid into her hair and then she felt him relax. “Now go to sleep and stop asking so damned many questions.”

Without looking up, Taylor found his hand. “Thanks for telling me the truth.” She stifled a yawn. “I'll drive whenever you want. Your shoulder—”

Jack touched her face gently. “Is fine. Maybe you can take over in a few hours. Meanwhile, I've got about two gallons of coffee here if I need it.”

“I can stay awake,” she insisted.

“But you don't have to,” Jack said. “Go ahead and rest while you can. Stop arguing.”

“I don't.” She yawned. “Argue. Not much.”

“Like hell you don't. You enjoy every precious second. What's frightening is the fact that I'm starting to like it,” he muttered.

No answer.

Jack looked across the seat as Taylor's purse slid off her lap onto the floor.

She was already asleep.

 

Lulled by the brush of Jack's warm body and the rhythm of the moving car, Taylor closed her eyes. All sound stilled; the world receded.

And instantly she was back in the killing zone.

She heard the tap at the door, saw Nancy Rodriguez step inside, smiling at Jack seconds before a hail of bullets exploded, tearing a row of crimson holes into her chest.

Taylor moaned, trying to fight her way through the dream. Blood was everywhere, carrying the cold scent of death.

“Wake up, honey. Come on, stop fighting.”