Red Hot BOX SET: Complete Series 1-4: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense (5 page)

“
T
his one
?” Emily leaned forward. Navigating without street signs was a trip she hoped not to make again anytime soon.

“Right. I mean, right … you need to go left.”

She turned into the street. It was busy, close to comida time. Women in aprons were setting up clay pots on top of brightly covered tables. Others fanned charcoal in little tin barbecues. The sidewalks bustled with shoppers, small children, dogs. Trucks crowded the curb, delivering goods to the multiple
tiendas
that lined the street. She slowed to a crawl. “How about you slouch down a little?” She removed her ball cap and passed it to him. “Maybe put this on.”

For once he didn’t argue. He reclined the seat and stretched out, hat low over his eyes. From his jacket pocket, he retrieved sunglasses and put them on. “We should get some food.”

“We can’t stop.” She kept sweeping their surroundings, left to right. All she wanted was to get the hell out of town as soon as possible.

“I haven’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. We’re going to need our strength.”

“My boss said the house is equipped.”

“With dry food probably. We need some protein.” He extended his arm to point through the windshield. “How about that chicken place?”

The stall a few doors down had chickens roasting on a spit over a wood fire. She could almost hear them sizzling. Her mouth watered while her stomach growled its agreement. She rolled past the stall.

“Hey! Don’t I have any say in this?” He started to push himself up in the seat. She reached over and held him in place as she slowed to a stop. “They can’t see you. Stay in the car.” Grabbing her pack, she made her way back past two trucks blaring rancho music and ordered a chicken. The vendor hacked it into greasy pieces, added a handful of roasted potatoes and blackened onions, some tortillas, a few chilies, and shoved it all in a plastic bag. Her mouth watered as she dug through her small stash of pesos and ordered a second one. Dal was a big boy, and at this point, she was pretty sure she could eat a whole chicken herself.

She kept her head down on the way back to the car. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t so much what she looked like. She was an American woman driving a white Toyota - that would be enough. Passing the chicken to Dal, she maneuvered back into traffic. The car quickly filled with the aroma of roasted chicken. “How much farther?”

He checked his phone. “Looks like twenty miles.”

“Once we leave town, we’re going to be out in the open. We’ll have to drive like the wind.” She glanced over at him, still slouched into the seat.

He tilted his head back and looked her in the eye. “Works for me. Any chance we can eat some of this chicken? My stomach feels like gremlins are trying to tunnel their way out.”

“Mine, too. I’ll take a leg.” The little car dropped down as the road turned abruptly to dirt and she was jarred in her seat. In the rear view mirror, she watched the town recede behind them.

Dal passed her a leg and she sank her teeth in. It was hot. Delicious. Grease dribbled down her chin. She swiped at it half-heartedly. Rolling down the window, she threw the bone out and extended her hand for more.

He passed her another leg and chuckled. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I haven’t had anything in a while either.” The last thing she’d eaten was the Chinese food yesterday evening. “We don’t have anything to drink.”

“Sure we do,” he said, telescoping his arm around to grab her pack. “In fact, you get a gold star for having the foresight to empty the mini-fridge.”

She smiled at him. In the panic, she’d done something right. “I forgot about that. What do we have?”

“Usual suspects,” he said, digging through the mess. “Coke, Fresca, a couple of Coronas, some teeny bottles of tequila designed for leprechauns —”

She laughed. “They may be designed for leprechauns, but let’s keep them to ourselves for now. Water for me, if that’s on the menu.” She snuck a peek at him out of the corner of her eye, as he rummaged further into their stash of drinks. In profile, he looked like some kind of Roman god. And so far, even if she hated to admit it, he didn’t seem like a total air head. Which was good. Because she needed him to keep his cool if the shit hit the fan.

She threw the second bone out the window and exhaled, strangely content, given the circumstances. If the staff photographer had told her when she’d gotten her shiny new Embassy of America identification badge yesterday morning, that she’d be fleeing into the desert with a fire fighting pin-up boy a day later, she would have laughed in the woman’s face.

Before them the desert stretched for miles before rolling into the low-lying mountains. Fate had a hell of a sense of humor.

T
he more distance
they’d put between themselves and town, the fewer signs of civilization they’d seen. Occasionally they’d pass a mean cement box with tattered curtains barely stirring in the mid-day breeze, often with a broken down car or two in the yard, or scrawny chickens, or plump toddlers with dusty faces. As they drove out of the flat of the desert and into the foothills, they drove by large gates guarding ranchos and haciendas tucked well back from the road.

Dal’s memories of last night were taking shape. He remembered punching the guy from the bus in the face so he could run back into the fire. He remembered looking up at the same guy standing over him and the poor bastard with the slit throat, holding his fingers to his lips and telling him to be quiet. He thought he might recognize him if they crossed paths again. He hadn’t noticed him on the bus, but he’d talked with him for a few minutes when they got off. To see if there might be a store or a place to eat nearby. His common sense told him there wasn’t, but he’d been hungry enough, and thirsty enough, to ask anyway. “Ah shit,” he mumbled.

Emily glanced over at him. “What is it?”

“I just remembered the guy from the bus last night. I asked him if there was a store nearby and he asked me what I was doing there - it was pretty isolated, I guess. Kind of a strange place for a gringo to get off.”

“And?”

“I told him I was meeting a friend’s boat.” He grimaced and scratched his forearm.

“What happened to that guy? You didn’t mention him before.” She started to tap on the steering wheel.

“It’s just coming back to me. We got off the bus together. And he was there when the truck was on fire.”

“So there’s a witness —”

“You don’t understand. Yes, there’s a witness, but —”

“You’re worried about your friend.”

“Wouldn’t you be? Jesus, why would I give a stranger that kind of information?”

“Hang on, let’s figure this out. First, it was idle conversation and there was no reason not to tell him you were meeting someone. Was he there when the ambulance arrived?”

“I don’t think so. All I remember are the EMTs.”

“Okay, worse-case scenario — they question the EMTs, but the EMTs didn’t see him. The way I see it, there’s no link to your friend.”

Dal pushed his hand back through his hair, wishing again the car had air conditioning. Sunlight beat through the window without mercy. “That makes sense. I’m pretty sure he didn’t stick around. Especially after seeing the driver.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” He looked out the window. “When I ran up to the truck, he was already there. He alerted me in fact, because he started yelling when the truck was coming down the hill.” He looked over at Emily. “When I came out with the driver, he tried to convince me not to go back into the fire.”

She chewed on her lip and kept her eyes forward. “It didn’t occur to you to listen to him?”

He shook his head. She didn’t understand. Civilians rarely understood. “I’m a firefighter.” He kept his voice calm and even. “I’m trained to rescue people in fires. So, no, I didn’t listen to him. In fact, I had to punch him in the face so he would let go of me.” The tic in his left eye started to pulse. He drew a deep breath in through his nose, held it, and exhaled through his mouth.

He knew Emily was assessing him and considering her next words. He let the silence build between them. He didn’t have to explain himself to this woman.

“But it was too late?”

He swiveled to look at her. Last question he would have expected. Maybe she understood more than he was giving her credit for. “The truck exploded on my way back in — yeah, it was too late.” He shifted his gaze back to the open window and stared out over the barren landscape.

She cleared her throat. “Dal, it was too late for those guys even before the fire.”

He nodded. She was right, but he hadn’t known that at the time. He’d been running on adrenalin and instinct.

“So the big guy, the one that you punched?”

“You’re right. I’m sure he didn’t stick around. In fact, he’s probably the one that called the ambulance. He told me to keep my mouth shut before I passed out.”

“You think he was involved somehow?”

“Not at all. We were both in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was saying it would be safer if I stayed quiet about what I saw.”

“What’s your friend’s name? The one you were meeting?”

“Kris. He’s one of my oldest friends. I needed some time off, so …”

“You needed some time off?”

He paused. “I had some vacation coming, is what I meant. Here’s the thing,” he turned back toward her. “What if they go down there and he’s anchored nearby waiting for me.”

She considered this a few seconds. “That doesn’t seem likely. I don’t think they’d go back.” She didn’t look sure.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving Kris a call.”

She swatted at his arm. “Don’t do that.”

“So you think they do have him?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just … Look, the hospital had your name. It would be easy for someone to track down your phone number, or even to track your phone.” She drew in a quick breath, eyes wide as she turned to him. “You need to take the battery out of your phone.”

He stared at the phone in his hand like it was an ember. She was right. “Wait, I need a mental snapshot of where the GPS is taking us.” He peered into the small screen, willing his vision to clear. Once he fixed it in his memory, he pried off the back panel and pulled the battery out. Kris would have to figure things out on his own. In a perfect world, he’d carry on without him. All he could do now was pray his friend wouldn’t wait at the pier for long.

S
he liked him
. In spite of herself. In spite of the image of him as Mr. November, bare-chested except for the straps of his yellow firefighter overalls, that left a gap in the waist just large enough for the imagination to wander, holding a gushing water hose against his pelvis. Or maybe because of that damn image. She shook her head. She needed to keep her wits about her, not fall into lust with Dal. She checked the odometer. “We should be there by now.”

“Just around this next bend. That’s us.” He pointed to a gate on the right. Emily pulled the car up to it and they got out.

She reached it first and lifted the padlock. It was rusty. Worse, it was locked. Well there’s another minor detail Jack might have mentioned. Worst first day on the job ever.

Dal reached for the lock, brushing her fingertips. She dropped the lock into his palm. He pried open a small panel on the bottom revealing a set of four numbers. He quirked a brow. “It’s a combination. Any ideas?”

She squinted at the numbers, as if they’d hold some answer. “What the hell…”

“What about your boss’s phone number?” He rotated the top of the lock, blowing flecks of rust into the blistering air.

“It’s worth a shot. Let’s see …” Damn, she’d put it into her phone yesterday. “We need four numbers? I think the last four digits of his number are seven-nine-six-one. Does that sound right? You would have seen it on the text for the coordinates.”

He nodded and moved the dials. “Seven, nine, six, one.” He pulled, the lock didn’t release. “One, six, nine, seven.” She watched as he tried it backward. Still no luck.

“What about the main number of the Embassy?” She reached for the lock.

“Doesn’t seem secure. Too easy.” He dropped the lock into her hand.

“Who would know this property belongs to the Embassy? It’s supposed to be a safe house.” She tried the number. Forward, then backward. Damn, that wasn’t it either. She tried it again. Backward, then forward. The sun beat relentlessly on her head, bounced off the steel gate into her eyes. It had to be over a hundred degrees. “Jesus, how hot do you think it is?”

“Hard to say.” He shielded his eyes to look up into the sun. It was just past mid-day. High noon.

She put in the four digits. Forward, backward. Backward, forward. She was getting frustrated. The absurdity of the situation threatened to overwhelm her. Her chest started to heave and she could feel nervous laughter building, threatening to escape. She passed the lock back to Dal.

“I need to think.” Leaning against the dusty hood of the car, she closed her eyes against the searing heat. Things went quiet. The sound of cicadas and crickets came to the front of her consciousness. She took another deep breath. “We need to get off this main road. We’re easy targets here.”

Dal concentrated on the numbers, brow furrowed. “What’s your boss’s name?”

“Jack. Why?”

He passed her his phone. “Let’s try the numbers that correspond.”

Her heart leapt. “J is 5. A is 2. And 2 for C also.” Dal lined the numbers up. “K is 5 again.”

Looking over, he met her eyes. She could almost feel him willing her to relax. He had a calming presence. Of course, if he deals in fires and disasters every day he would have to be grounded in a crisis. Clear-headed.

“Ready?”

She nodded. He pulled the U shape, the lock released and she threw her arms around his neck before leaning back as if she’d been burned. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

His arm had already snaked around her waist and he held her to him, gazing at her with his gorgeous gray eyes.

“We - we should get inside.”

He released her, reluctantly it seemed, and she backed away.

“Good work, soldier.”

* * *

D
al didn’t want
to let go. Her lithe body felt good pressed against him, and a little celebration was in order. But he released her. She was right - they needed to get off the main road. At least now he knew the chemistry he was feeling between them wasn’t some delusion from the after-effects of the morphine. He winked and swung the gate open while she pulled the car through, then he closed it and set the lock before folding himself back into the little Toyota.

The property was big. They drove at least a mile before they dropped down into a little valley winding through the foothills. She navigated across a couple of small arroyos, dry this time of year. Emily stopped when they reached a third, larger arroyo. “Think we’ll clear it?”

He surveyed the rocks and pointed out a path. “Go slow.” She picked her way across, dodging the larger boulders until they heard a scrape on the underside. He opened the door. “I’ll get out.” The car gained a couple of inches of clearance and she coaxed the little car up the shallow bank on the other side. He walked ahead a few yards to check around the small hill to his right. He waved her forward.

She pulled up beside him. He whistled. “Some house.”

“Get in. I’m dying to eat the rest of this chicken.”

He chuckled and got in beside her. The main building looked like an old hacienda. At one time it had been white. It had a turret on each side and wide, formal stairs that led to a gated front yard. “Why would they gate in a house so far from anywhere?”

“Years ago, this whole area was full of active mines. I’m guessing this was the main hacienda - the gates were probably to keep the workers out.” Her gaze swept the area. “See - beyond the barn. That was probably the company store.”

He looked in the same direction. A large barn stood to the left of the main house, and slightly behind. Just beyond that, was another building, a touch smaller than the barn. “I remember reading about these mines in school.”

“There are probably a lot of shafts still open, so let’s keep our eyes peeled when we’re walking.” She pulled around the back of the house. “Should we hide the car in the barn?”

He glanced over at the large doors. “It’s probably locked. Should be fine as long as it’s out of sight back here. We’ll definitely hear someone coming, especially through that last arroyo. What’s the plan, anyway?”

She got out of the car, grabbed the chicken and headed for the back door. “Wait. Jack said he’d come for us.”

Dal pulled her pack from the back seat and followed. Waiting suited him fine. He was starving.