Packing Heat (21 page)

She rolled to her side, hissing in a breath through her teeth because it hurt like hell.

“How are you feeling?”

“Stiff, groggy, sore.” She shifted a little and winced. “Humiliated,” she added, feeling an echo of the desperation she’d felt when she understood she’d lost the fight, that Irina’s arms were around her neck and she was about to die. “That was some stunt you pulled.”

He turned on a light somewhere behind her, and she blinked, as much from confusion as anything else. “Where are we?”

“You don’t remember anything after the stunt?”

“Bits and pieces. I remember being in the car, and I remember you talking to someone.”

“Your friend Mike, at the FBI.”

She leaned back a little, surprised. “You called the FBI?”

“You called him, but you weren’t in any shape to talk.”

“So you did.”

“I didn’t have a lot of options,” Cole said. “We needed a safe place to go. We’re just outside Colorado Springs right now, at an RV park full of Renaissance fair people.”

“You’re joking,” she said with a slight laugh that still wasn’t shallow enough, but then everything hurt. Even the blood running through her veins caused a faint throb of pain. “Why would Mike dump us with Renaissance kooks?”

“Some guy name of Connor Larkin.”

“Conn’s here?” Harmony forgot reality and tried to jump out of bed. She made it up to one elbow before she collapsed again.

“You can see him later.”

“You read my mind,” she said. “Where exactly are we?”

“We’re in Sal and Larry’s RV. They’ve gone to Vancouver to visit their new granddaughter.”

Harmony took in the faux-wood paneling surrounding what passed for a double bed, dressed in silk ruffles. She lifted her head far enough to see past Cole down the length of the RV, a straight shot to a set of curtains that must close off the living space from the cab at the other end. “Sal has a heavy hand with the perfume,” she said, “but I’m grateful.” It might not be the Four Seasons, but she was alive and safe.

Because of Cole.

After all her big talk, she’d nearly been killed the first time she’d really been tested. If not for Cole . . . She closed her eyes, too tired to hide from the truth any longer. She had feelings for Cole, feelings that went beyond trust and respect, wandering right into love. She wanted to believe Cole had chosen her over the Russians because he had feelings for her, too. But that would be foolish.

Cole was looking out for his own interests, and who could blame him? He’d spent a week with her, and while he couldn’t possibly trust her, he must be reasonably confident she wouldn’t shoot him in the head the moment she didn’t need him anymore. He couldn’t say the same about Irina. He could have taken off once he’d put Leo out of commission, but Cole wasn’t that kind of man. He wasn’t in love with her, but he wouldn’t leave her to die, either. “Did I thank you?”

“Not necessary,” Cole said.

She shifted onto her back, staring at the ceiling over her head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“So you’re just going to leave Richard to the kidnappers? Look, you ran into a woman who’s been doing this a while. You’re new at it. And it’s not like you to sit around feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not. How can I rescue Richard when I can’t even defend myself?”

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself.”

He stood up. “How about some breakfast?”

It was so typically Cole to be thinking of his stomach that she couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t sure how to salvage the mission, but she began to feel a little glimmer of hope again.

“Annie Bliss,” she said, setting the tray on a small table and turning back to Harmony, her eyes sparkling.

“From last night,” Harmony said, recognition kicking in.

“That’s right. I’m glad you remember. It means you weren’t as out of it as you appeared to be.”

Harmony waited, expecting the obvious questions. Who wouldn’t wonder about a woman who’d shown up in the middle of the night looking like a punching bag?

“I brought you some breakfast,” Annie said, still smiling that serene smile, apparently not the least bit curious.

“I’m not really hungry,” Harmony said, and then Annie uncovered the tray to reveal a bowl and a glass. The bowl contained some kind of hot cereal. The aroma of brown sugar and melted butter wafted to her, making her mouth water and her stomach growl.

Annie handed her a spoon and nudged her into a chair. Harmony took a bite, the slightly nutty flavor of the cereal mixing with the sweet sugar and the salty creaminess of the butter, all of it warm and comforting from the moment it passed her lips all the way down to her stomach.

“That is really amazing,” she said, spooning up another mouthful. “It’s not oatmeal. What is it?”

“It’s a special blend made by a friend of mine. It’s actually after noon, but I wasn’t sure how your stomach would be, so I thought this would be best.”

“You were right. Thank your friend for me.”

“You’ll meet her later. You can thank her yourself.”

“I, uh, don’t know how long I’m going to be here, Mrs. Bliss.”

“Annie.”

“Annie,” Harmony repeated dutifully.

“Your young man said the two of you would be here a couple days at least.”

“Oh.” Harmony ate two more bites without tasting them because she was concentrating on sounding casual when she said, “He’s not actually my young man.”

“No? He was quite frantic last night,” Annie said calmly, as if she hadn’t just implied a life-altering possibility.

And as soon as that thought surfaced, Harmony rejected it. Cole was worried about staying out of jail. He needed her for that.

“Well,” Annie said as if she’d read Harmony’s mind and wanted to reassure her, “sometimes it’s best not to overthink these things. Just accept today for what it is, try to make the most of it, and above all enjoy it. Tomorrow can take care of itself.”

Harmony nodded, thinking that was a really nice fantasy for someone like Annie, but Harmony had a hard time accepting today for what it was when it meant Richard was still a hostage and she couldn’t do anything about it. She forced herself to sit there a few more minutes, but her stomach wasn’t going to let her put anything else into it.

Annie seemed to understand. She took the tray and left with nothing more than a parting smile. Harmony eased out of the chair and folded the hem of the shirt up until it was around her waist, tying the ends into a knot. She slipped her feet into her athletic shoes, not bothering to tie them, took a deep breath, and opened the RV door, blinking in the bright sunlight.

She was looking for Cole. She saw Connor Larkin first. He sat under the overhang of a shedlike structure at the far end of the RV camp. As Harmony got closer, she noticed the banked fire and realized it must be a portable forge.

“When you take a cover, you really get into it,” she said as she came up beside him, taking a step back when the heat of the fire hit her in the face.

Conn swung around, holding out his arms.

Harmony held up her hands to ward him off. “Consider yourself hugged.”

“Sorry, Harmony, I forgot,” he said, urging her to sit on the stool he’d just vacated.

She did, studying the armorlike whatchamacallit on the workbench.

“It’s a fish,” he explained, “created out of the same kind of overlapping metal plates I’d use to make a gauntlet. The plates are smaller and shaped to look like scales, but it’s the same mechanics used to make flexible plate armor.”

“You could probably sell that.”

“I do. Have to keep up the cover, right?”

She smiled because he expected it. “What about me and Cole? What have you told everyone?”

“Nothing. The Blisses are always taking in strays.”

“No one is asking? I mean, Annie seems like the kind of person who would feed and house a complete stranger, even one who was clearly in some kind of trouble. But everyone else?”

“There are two kinds of people who participate in Renaissance fairs,” Conn said. “The ones who have established businesses and use the fairs for an extra boost, and the ones who subsist on their earnings, traveling from fair to fair.”

“These are the travelers, I take it.”

“Some of them just prefer the lifestyle, like Annie and Nelson, her husband. But a lot of these people are on the fringe of society.”

“Criminals?”

“Not the kind who’d hurt someone,” Conn said quickly, “and yeah, I know I’m here for a reason, but it’s nothing violent. These people look out for each other, and anyone dangerous is sent packing pretty quickly.”

“What about us?” Harmony asked. “How do they know we’re not dangerous?”

“I vouched for you. But while we’re on the subject, what the hell are you doing?”

Harmony looked away. “Someone had to go after him, Conn.”

“You know the odds, Harmony. They’re going to kill him as soon as you give them what they want.”

She smiled grimly. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. At least not my problem.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think I should turn this back to Mike and let him decide what to do. I’m not capable—”

“Bullshit.”

That brought her face up, her eyes meeting his.

“You started this,” Conn said, “you finish it.”

“But . . . You just said . . .”

“I know what I said. Now think it through. Why did you take these bastards on? And don’t tell me it was all about Richard.”

“He’s the important part,” she hedged.

“And?”

“And I wanted to prove something to Mike.”

“What’s it going to prove if you quit the minute it gets rough?” Conn gave her exactly two seconds to think about it before he said, “Let’s try this again. They’re going to kill Swendahl as soon as you give them what they want.”

Harmony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They’re not getting anything unless Richard is alive and they’re turning him over to me,” she said, resisting the temptation to make it into a question. Sure, her confidence had been shaken, deeply, but it hadn’t been destroyed. “And then I’m going to keep the money, too.”

Conn took off his glove, hunkering down in front of her and brushing a finger across the bruise on her check. “They’ve already tried to kill you once.”

She caught his hand and held it between both of her own. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? It’s a miracle, and it’s probably not the last one I’ll need, but one day at a time, right?”

“You’re trusting your life to an ex-con, and you’re going up against pros,” Conn said by way of agreement.

“That’s the job. You make do with what you have.” She smiled at him. “Unless you want to ditch the hippies and come with me.”

He grinned back. “Just between you and me, these people are hippies and kooks.”

“And yet I detect a note of fondness in your voice.”

He shrugged. “They’re endearing kooks.”

“And criminals, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yep. Nice to know I can count on human nature to keep me employed.”

“True,” Harmony said.
Alive was a different story.