Risk of a Lifetime (15 page)

The phone rang.

The listening device on the counter beeped. The bright red light flashed.

The world grabbed them back.

Chapter Seventeen

Marcy slumped against JB as he lowered her to her feet. He pointed to the device and put a finger in front of his lips, then reached for the phone. She knew to stay quiet as he played the phone call con that had been planned.

“Yeah, we plan on being at the party tomorrow afternoon.” JB pointed to the shirt he tossed in the corner, then covered the receiver as if it were a normal conversation. “Hey, Marcy, what are we taking to the barbeque?”

“Deviled eggs?” She could barely get the words out without her voice trembling. Setup routines might come easy to law enforcement folks, but she was a novice. Lying seemed ten times more difficult than telling the truth.

Especially when her mind was still trying to wrap itself around the torture he’d endured. She’d tried to listen as his wife, but then there was the moment when the pain had become too much to handle. Was then that she’d almost switched to her counselor mode, put up her shield of protection. But, she hadn’t…she hadn’t. She swiped her hand across her cheek. She would not cry. Would not let him know she might not be able to handle them being together for the long haul.

She tugged on the bottom of her sweater. Stuffed her bra in the pocket of her jeans. The implication of the past few minutes flew from her core to her brain and back again. He wanted her. They might be dead before morning, but skimming her fingers across the tanned hardness of JB’s chest had been ecstasy. Pure need, want, and lust ecstasy. That she wanted to finish.

Instead, she picked up his shirt and stood quietly beside him in the kitchen.

“…yeah, she said deviled eggs. I’ll bring a cooler of beer, too. What time?” JB pulled her against him and encircled his arm around her shoulders. “Two sounds great.”

How would she ever get through this? A shiver took her, and he squeezed her tighter.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day. Think we’re gonna turn in early tonight.” His cheek rested on the top of her head. “We’ll be there. See you tomorrow.”

He locked the key pad, powered off the phone, and shoved it in his pocket. They clung to each other for a brief moment, which ended in one long kiss before they broke apart. After pulling his black, thermal shirt back on, he strapped the Kevlar vest in place. He double-tied his boots, checked the back-up gun on his inner, left ankle, and strapped the knife holster on the upper part of his inner, right calf. The knife thingy was new, like the scars on his chest and the brand.

Where had he been the past few years? What had he done? She wanted to know, yet part of her didn’t. She figured he’s share what he wanted, when he wanted. Following his advice to be his wife, not his counselor, was exactly what she planned to do. She’d listen with love whenever he decided to talk…even if it was years from now. No more counseling techniques would float between the two of them.

She watched as if a moviegoer at the cinema. The film an action-adventure flick. The hero hot and dangerous. The woman in trouble and willing. Together, they’d run the gamut and come out in each other’s arms by the time the credits rolled. Only two things wrong. This wasn’t a movie. And the credits might be their obituaries.

He cupped her face in his palms as he kissed her one more time. Her fingertips stroked his cheeks. Tender and deep, their kiss sealed their commitment to stay alive.

Holding her hand, he walked to the hallway. “You about ready for bed, sugar?”

She nodded. He pointed to his mouth for her to talk.

Stretching, she stepped into the bedroom, then crossed to the bathroom. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Good. I’ll lock up and get the lights. Meet you in bed.” JB headed to the living room to make the round of typical get-ready-for-bed sounds.

Thinking to the upcoming run and the cold weather, Marcy scurried to the toilet. Once finished, she opened the door, and the nightlight’s soft glow illuminated enough for her to see what looked like two people snuggled in bed. She jerked on an intake of fearful breath before JB pulled her to the side and covered her mouth with his hand. Pillows…he’d scrunched pillows in bed.

Next, he bundled her in his down-filled parka she kept in their closet. After she pulled a pair of ear warmers on, he topped them with a ski hat, and finally, she tugged on her wool gloves. She realized the temperature would have dropped outside since the sun went down. Plus, the weather forecast had been for a cold front to move through sometime in the next few days. After JB pushed thermal gloves over her wool ones, she figured he planned on a blizzard overnight.

Back in the truck, before they came inside, when she asked him why they couldn’t stay at the house and wait for the creep to make his move, JB said this looked like a highly professional job. Staying at the house to see what might happen was a risk he wouldn’t take with her life. Hopefully, the police would nab the guy, and they’d be back by noon tomorrow. If not, they’d be safe somewhere else.

She’d understood. For the first time, she also understood that if it wasn’t for him protecting her, he’d be hell-bent on finishing the job himself. Maybe her needing protection meant safety for him. She planned to keep that thought until a better one popped into her mind.

“Snuggle on over here, Marcy. Get yourself warm.” The rehearsed dialogue rolled off his tongue.

“No. I’m fine on my side.” Her mind raced to remember what came next.

“Well, I do mind. Now snuggle up, I’m cold. Good night, Marcy.”

She fake-giggled. “Good night, JB.”

He tugged her down the hallway, their footsteps quiet on the carpet. Role play finished at the guest room window as he donned a pair of night-vision goggles. Then he fitted her with a pair right before he lifted their backpacks, opened the window, and dropped them to the ground. He lowered himself out the window.

Leaves crunched to the back of the house. He plastered himself to the wall like a sticker on a notebook, then dropped to the ground. Flat on his belly against the dirt, legs spread, boots dug in, gun drawn and aimed, he was in combat mode. Ready to shoot, run, or fend off attack.

All she could do was wait inside, peek over the window sill, and listen. She knelt, leaving her gloved hand on the sill. After a few more crunches that sounded more like a scampering possum, his hand covered hers and tugged. She climbed out into his waiting arms. He positioned her backpack and locked it in place, then tweaked her nose with his finger, grinning as he settled his own pack in place.

For having her bundled for extreme cold, he looked casual in his clothes, except she knew the Glock and holster were strapped over his shoulder out of view. Knew they both had on Kevlar vests. Once she touched him, though, she felt the softness of layers of sweaters beneath the light jacket, coupled with the thermal wear she’d seen when he raised his jeans to position the knife on his calf. He’d stay warm.

He’d mentioned he needed to be able to react hard and fast. Fingerless gloves and lack of a hat caught her attention. The gloves she understood for the gun, the knife, but he should wear his hat. She pointed to her own then him. He shook his head, pointed to his ears and the surroundings. She got it…he needed to hear.

Again, the crunch of leaves. This time from the front of the house. He tensed and spun in that direction, gun raised, finger on the trigger.

Her heart rate notched up as fear grazed her senses. She’d heard people in counseling talk about the taste of fear. Until now, she hadn’t known what such a thing would taste like. Now she did. Not so good. Wouldn’t be easy to forget. Her breathing jumped into overdrive as she tried to ignore the vile taste permeating her senses. She had to get her control back. The last thing he needed was for her to hyperventilate.

JB pushed her back and stepped in front of her. Held his hand for her not to move. The rocker on the front porch squeaked with movement. Wind? Was there enough to move the chair? More crisp, brittle sounds of breaking, dried leaves littering the ground.

He tugged her close behind him and edged to the corner of the house. Flattening herself to the siding, she tried to blend in with her dark coat and gloves. He’d made sure neither of them had any light color clothing on. He inched a small corner mirror out in front of him. She glanced over his arm to see the reflection. Nothing.

Turning back to her, he holstered the gun. Evidently, he thought it was nothing more than the wind.

She looped her thumbs under the backpack straps across her chest. That had been their I’m-ready-to-go signal years ago when she’d gone hunting with him. He did the same with his, then turned and headed in a low crouch to the tree line. She followed close behind.

Her vision focused, cleared, and she stumbled, crashing into him. He turned, catching her with one arm, then jerked his eyes to the left. The semi-automatic strapped to his thigh was in his hand before she realized JB had moved. The one she thought of as his SWAT gun. Her heart raced, pounding fast and heavy. He never wore that unless the situation was wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous beyond dangerous.

And, she’d never seen him pull it…until now.

He pushed her in front of him, then turned and walked backwards behind her.

The taste in her mouth deepened. What the hell had he seen?

Patting her coat pocket to make sure her own gun was still there, the enormity of their situation bombarded her. After about twenty steps, he motioned her to stop. She steadied herself and stood beside him. Ready and waiting to follow his order. He nodded and hooked his thumbs under his straps—she did the same.

They moved forward as one as the woods closed in behind them.

Chapter Eighteen

JB flipped the image through his mind as he shortened his strides so Marcy could keep up. What had zipped around the back of their house as he turned to catch her? A fat raccoon? A wolf? Or something more ominous? Maybe a shadow, nothing else. A shadow. His gut instinct warned otherwise. As professional as the hits had been so far, the perp wouldn’t chance entering the house before the people inside had a chance to fall asleep. He would wait. Wait until they were sound asleep, then charge in to wreak his chaos.

The couple trekked through the trees and brush, downed limbs tangled in mud from tiny hillside rivulets. A slight mist of rain helped cushion the sound of their footsteps on the fallen leaves. The hike stayed uneventful. He stopped, pointed to a few deer making their way through the night, trying to stay warm. For an instant, it seemed like old times. He heard her breathing lessen just a bit. A shared moment, fingertips, and a memory. Then the moment passed, and they trudged on through the darkness of the forest.

The sound of a truck revving its engine signaled him they were close to the next leg of their journey. He tucked her close behind him until glimpses of the road ahead flickered through the brush. They crept to the edge of the tree line. The truck idled close to a hundred feet down the gravel road. Inching through the cover of trees and darkness, he positioned them straight across from their ride. His mind, eyes, and instincts sharpened to the surroundings. Was this the right truck? The right driver? Or, had someone else come? Figured everything out?

A lighter flickered in the driver’s area. First time got his attention. Second time, he got enough of a look at the man behind the wheel to risk their lives. Marcy leaned into JB as he pointed to the open, passenger door on the rear cab of the truck. Interior lights dark, only a small, directed, pin-sized glow of light beamed from the floor bed.

“When we break the trees, all you have to do is get in the back seat. I’ll be right behind you.” He tightened his fingers around the sleeve of her coat. “Understand?”

She nodded. “Are you sure it’s Cain?”

“Yeah.” At least he hoped the driver was Cain. If JB’s instincts had been wrong in trusting the man, then it wouldn’t matter, because their lives wouldn’t be worth the price of a bullet.

“Are you sure?” She glanced at the truck and back to him, her eyes wide with fear.

Ignoring her question, he eased his Glock from the shoulder holster, and then hung his arm back down his side, finger on the trigger. “Get ready.”

Grasping the straps, she hefted her backpack further up on her shoulders, the look on her face focused and intent. He looked behind them one last time and scanned right, front, left.

Up the road, headlights beamed in the distance, growing in size. The man in the truck jumped out, ran around the back side, a shadow of a pistol in his hand. JB shoved Marcy to the ground and crouched beside her. Looked like Cain’s build. Who was behind the wheel of the approaching car, though?

JB handed Marcy the Glock and released the semi-automatic from his thigh. If he was wrong, they’d need everything he had. There’d be no time to run. No time to disappear. No time to think. Reaction meant everything. Would his timing be better than the perp’s?

The man stopped by the back fender. Headlights closed on the scene. Marcy shivered as she braced on her elbows, gun focused straight ahead and tight in her grip. JB locked the semi-automatic’s handle into place, ready to fire. Didn’t matter who heard the click. Too late for stealth.

“Hold where you are.” Cain’s voice rasped. “I got this covered.”

The car pulled to a stop along the truck. “Car trouble?”

Cain wandered back around the rear fender, zipping, readjusting his pants, his coat. “No. That last beer made a beeline straight through. Had to stop for a nature call.”

A man’s laugh floated through the air. “Been there.”

“Thanks for stopping, though.”

The car drove away, the taillights disappearing around a bend in the road. Cain jumped in the driver’s seat and started the truck.

“Now.” JB tugged Marcy upward.

She ran to the open doorway and launched inside. He braced himself as he landed on her a second later. The truck was moving before he got the door slammed.

Settling to the passenger side floor bed, JB motioned Marcy to the other side. “Who was that?”

“Old man Parson and his wife. From the looks of them, they must have been coming home from Joanie’s.” Cain turned onto the main road which smoothed out the bumps in the ride.

“Anybody else been by?”

“Not that I saw.” Cain handed back a thermos and cups. “I been driving a two-mile loop and some of the side roads for the past hour. Came back when I figured you’d be close.”

JB poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Marcy after she tugged off her hat and gloves.

“There’s a couple blankets on the seat back there if you’re cold.” Cain kept his focus on the road ahead except for the frequent glances in the rear and driver’s side mirrors.

“Thanks.” She sat quiet, sipping the heat into her body.

Cain’s phone rang. “Yeah, I got them.”

“If that’s the sheriff, I need to talk to him.” JB reached out to take the phone, then put it to his ear. “Anything happen there?”

“Nope. Everything’s quiet on this end. Looks like the plan worked,” Sheriff Davis replied.

“Go in the house now.” Trying to muffle his words from Marcy, JB ran his hand across his face. “I thought I saw something as we left.”

“You sure ‘bout this? We’ll blow the stakeout if we go in.”

Adrenaline pulsed through JB’s body. “Yes. Go inside now. Call back as soon as you check it out.”

The call ended, and when he glanced across the floor bed, he looked into Marcy’s brown eyes. “Probably nothing,” he said.

She nodded, sipped more warmth from the cup.

A few minutes later, the phone rang, and he turned to muffle the words. The less Marcy knew the better off she’d be. “Yeah?”

Sheriff Davis cleared his throat. “You were right. He’s been in and out. Looks like he came up through the crawlspace under the house. None of my guys saw or heard anything.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Kennett said it looked like the floor around the register in the utility room had already been cut out. Repositioned on some blocks under the house.” Davis sighed deep. “No telling how long he’s been planning this.”

JB leaned his head back against the door, cricking his neck from side to side. The breath he took in expanded until the force of the Kevlar vest clinched tight against his body before he blew every bit of air out. He could feel her stare but didn’t look over.

The sheriff cleared his throat. “He left you a couple of notes. One on the pillows in your bed. Along with ten 38-caliber bullets on the other pillow.”

“Repeat the last.” Inside, JB churned with heat, chaos, premonition.

“Ten 38-caliber bullets,” Sheriff Davis replied.

JB tensed with rage. The creep had walked their floors, stood by their bed, touched their pillows. Who had he angered this much? Was it actually someone in the Bureau? Or someone who’d been sent to settle the score for a busted drug runner? Terrorism? No, none of his cases had come close on that count.

Maybe this was tied to Jennings’ death in some way. Maybe there had actually been a child slavery ring, and the girl who’d lured Jennings to his death had been an innocent victim guiding him to the wrong place at the wrong time. Those involved could want to silence everyone involved before starting up again.

But in that case, why hadn’t Landon been targeted? Wouldn’t they think JB’d tell his new sometimes-partner his concerns from past cases? None of this made sense.

Why make it so personal? Why hadn’t they finished him off right away, instead of torturing him for days and risking the FBI coming to his rescue, as they had? Why toy with them now, instead of just shooting to kill? He raised his shoulder and stretched his side enough to loosen the kink grabbing the bruise from the building blast. “What did the note say?”

“The one in the living room looked like it had been scribbled fast. Said he heard you say you knew the woods like the back of your hand. That he’d like a good chase. Go for it.” The sheriff stopped. “That’s all on that one.”

JB thought back. Exactly when had he said that? “What does— Wait, I said that in the truck. That means he’s really got some heavy-powered listening device somewhere in that yard.”

Also meant this was a game to the guy. A hunt. Somewhere behind them was a killer. Right now, they were ahead, because JB had expertly crisscrossed his and Marcy’s path in the woods. The man was probably lost about now. Lost and mad. Getting madder by the minute.

“We’ll check.”

“Also, means he knows this was a set-up. Read the other note.”

“Is Marcy listening?” the sheriff asked.

“No.” He braced for bad…real bad. “Go ahead. Read it word for word.”

“To the lovely couple. Sorry I missed you. Hope she didn’t hurt herself when she stumbled. See you soon.” Sheriff Davis sucked in a breath. “Would have loved to hear the ending to what you started in the kitchen. Marcy sounded hot. I like my women hot.”

JB’s eyelids flew open, and he ground his fist into the seat beside him. He stilled, then rested his hand on the knife strapped to his thigh. The sonofabitch was gonna pay. Fast or slow, didn’t matter. He pulled himself back from where he’d mentally gone. He needed to focus.

Reactively, he reached for Marcy, and she scrambled across the floor bed into his arms. His arm engulfed her as she huddled against him, her fingers unconsciously stroking his jaw line. Even though she didn’t know what was wrong, she was scared. Scared because he’d let his anger rage. He willed himself to relax enough so she wouldn’t be afraid.

“You okay?” Sheriff Davis asked.

“Yeah. We’re okay.” He clutched his wife against him. “We’ll keep the plan in place. Let me know if you get anything else.”

“Sure thing.”

“I’m gonna hand the phone over to Cain. Read him the notes before you hang up.” JB passed the phone forward to the driver.

Marcy’s hand found his. “Did they catch him?”

“No, he was already gone when the sheriff went in.”

“You said something about a note. What did it say?”

“Just something about hearing us inside the house earlier. He thinks he can outsmart the rest of us.” He eased her away, patting the seat. No way would he tell her what the second note said, but she needed to know the guy was hunting them. “Marcy, whoever is after us is sadistic. I think he may be involved with the hit men who branded me with my shield. This is all a game for him. Back at the house, he left a note saying he’d enjoy chasing us through the woods.”

Her eyes narrowed with righteous indignation. “Means that was him outside the house. He watched us leave.”

JB nodded. He heard Cain click the phone off and knew he was taking everything in from the front seat. Maybe he’d have some suggestions once she dozed off.

“We made it to the get-away truck, so that means we lost him.”

“For the moment.” How should he word what he wanted to say next? Straight and to the point. “I gave you the gun for a reason. Promise me you’ll pull the trigger if our lives depend on it.” What a thing to tell his wife to promise. But better prepared than surprised.

She nodded. “I promise. He won’t take either one of us if I can help it.”

Good. He knew he could count on her. “For now, I want you to lie down and get some sleep. We need to get some rest before the next leg of the plan.”

She stretched out on the leather as he covered her with the blanket. “Will he?”

“Will who what?” He knew damn well what she meant.

Scrunching her hat and gloves under her head for a pillow, her cheek rested gently on the softness, her eyes boring into his. “Will the man outsmart all of you?”

“No, Marcy. He won’t. I told you before, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Stroking her hair, he kissed her lips, then leaned back, gave her a smile. Her eyes closed along with her small return smile. “Get some sleep.”

She snuggled under the blanket. “You know, from a purely psychological reasoning, I think the guy’s trying to make you suffer. Sure, he wants to take me out, but mainly he’s in it to make you feel a pain he’s felt. You know…like you hurt his woman or daughter or mother, someone like that, and he’ll hurt yours.”

“I’ve already thought of that.” He leaned his head against hers.

“And when the time comes to settle the score, he needs to see your reaction as I die. Then he can live the rest of his life at peace knowing his revenge was complete.”

See his reaction? His reaction would be to kill the damn sonofabitch.

Still, what she’d said was an interesting deduction. One he could use. That might be what the jerk wanted, but he’d use the plan against him when the time came.

“Thanks, sugar.”

“For what?”

“An idea.” He needed to think on a decoy to be the final lure when the time came. “Guess you were right, danger follows where ever I go. I should never have come back.”

She brushed a kiss across his lips. “I’m glad you did, though.”

Cain kept the truck moving down the road, his eyes never looking back. Never a hint that he could hear everything that had been said.

JB tried to think what they might have missed. Too much at stake for him to overlook any clue. If the clues were there, they were hidden like a man covering more than his tracks. Like someone covering from a trained background.

“Here’s something else. He’s reacting to a perceived wrong. One you may not even know happened.” She elbowed up just a bit, looked him in the eye. “Yes, he wants you to be there when I die. He won’t decide whether to let you live or not until then, either.”

He knew what she meant. Seeing her die, knowing he hadn’t been able to stop it, would be the ultimate suffering. And to live with that would be even worse than dying.

“Of course, that all depends on how far he’s gone over the edge of reason by the time he finds us.” Sighing, she laid back down. “Bottom line…who knows I’m your wife?”

“Not just that. They’d need to know where you live and that I’d be here.”