Silent Pursuit (2 page)

G
ina hung up the pay phone and, ignoring the occasional strange look from the diner patrons, scurried to the window. Her breath still came in pants although she'd recovered from her run. It was the terror still quaking through her that stole the air from her lungs. She'd been so careful. How had they found her?

Probably her cell phone. They'd obviously tracked her with no problem and had, no doubt, laughed all the way up the highway.

Mario, what were you up to? What did you hide? And where did you hide it? Who were you hiding it from? I don't even know if you were one of the good guys now.

Tears clogged her throat at the betraying thought. But she didn't let them fall. She never would have thought he'd do something to put her in danger, and yet by dying, he'd apparently done just that. It had taken six months, but obviously he'd led the trail straight to her.

Headlights flashed in the parking lot.

Bad guys or Ian?

She looked at the clock on the wall. About a minute and a half had passed. The lights flashed once more. Then again.

Ian.

She bolted out the door into the drizzle, which had started the minute she'd entered the restaurant. Her bare feet slapped the wooden porch, then the steps. The door opened from the inside.

Throwing herself into the passenger seat, she slammed the door just as a bullet pierced the windshield to bury itself in the backseat.

Ian hissed, put a hand on her head and shoved her down in the seat. “Hold on!”

“I'm so sorry I had to drag you into this,” she squealed.

“We'll get to that later.” He threw the gearshift lever into Reverse and screeched from the parking lot. Another bullet hit the back windshield and shattered it.

Glass flew.

Ian drove.

Gina prayed.

It seemed like hours, but in reality, according to the dash clock, only seven minutes had passed since the last bullet.

“I think I lost them.” He grunted and turned left.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, brushing stray bits of glass from her legs and hair, careful not to cut herself. Turning to the man beside her, she gasped, “You have perfect timing.”

“Actually, I was running late due to an unforeseen circumstance with my commander, but I'm here now and you're in more trouble than you let on.”

“When I called you, I didn't know how bad they wanted me.”

“Why call me? Why not the cops?”

“Because they'll just turn it over to the army.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

“It is if there's a traitor on the base.”

That shut him up. Then he asked, “Who?”

“I don't know. All I know is that Mario died during a training exercise. At least that's what I was told. Who
really
knows what happened?” Sarcasm dripped. “But if that's the case, then someone set him up.”

“How do you figure?”

She remained silent for moment.

“Gina?”

“I don't have any proof. Just a gut feeling. And I know you'll think that's crazy, but someone has tried to kill me twice, so I'm leaning on trusting my gut at this point in time.”

This time he paused as he glanced in the rearview mirror, then the side. “Sometimes your gut's the only thing worth trusting.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don't know what Mario had that these people want. I mean, I'm just a real estate agent from a small town in South Carolina who happened to fall in love with a guy who had a lot of secrets—ones he didn't bother sharing with me. Or couldn't share. Who knows? I don't know anything except that they think I have whatever it is they're after. Which means I need to figure out what it is and find it before they find me. And I think I need your help to do that.” The words spilled from her in one breath. She finally paused and drew in some air.

“I would say you're on the right track.” He gave her a gentle smile, and for the first time since her mad dash into the car, she noticed his rugged good looks. She'd always thought him a handsome man, had actually been attracted to him, but had been so committed to Mario, she'd ignored those feelings.

Tonight they returned with a rush.

Wow.

Immediately, she felt guilty. As if she'd just betrayed Mario in some way. It must be the terror-induced adrenaline spiking her senses into hyperawareness. She looked away.

Forcing her thoughts to focus on the important thing—like getting away from a killer—she said, “I had to slip out of a back window at the beach house. I've got nothing on me. I don't know whether to go back to the house and try to get my stuff or have my parents wire me some money. I'm sure they're already worried enough. I don't want to add putting them in any kind of danger.”

He placed a hand over hers. “I've got you covered. Let's find a safe place to hole up and hash out what just happened. Then we can worry about other necessities.”

 

Ian found a little out-of-the-way hotel room and asked for two rooms. Gina stood beside him, shivering, her bare feet probably frozen. He had one person in mind to call whom he trusted, no questions asked. Jason Sutton. A man whose skills as a Ranger had saved Ian's hide on more than one occasion. A onetime fellow Ranger in the same unit Ian and Mario had served in and a good friend to them both, Jase would come through for him—he hoped.

Finally, they made it to the rooms. Gina entered hers and Ian followed her in. He chose the desk chair, while Gina sat at the table, hands clasped in front of her. Wild dark curls had found freedom from the pink scrunchy that now encircled the lower portion of a ponytail gone bad. She didn't seem to notice.

“First,” he said as he set his bag in the second chair, “I've called my sister, Carly. She's a U.S. marshal who's going to come stay with you tonight to protect you while I focus on
looking for the guys who just tried to kill us. The faster I'm able to get on this, the faster we'll figure it out. Now, the marshals aren't officially on this case, you understand? She's just doing this because I asked and should be here in a few minutes. But for now tell me everything you can, Gina. Who's after you?”

She lifted burdened shoulders. “I don't know, Ian. All I know is that they want something and haven't found it, yet.”

“Which means they'll keep coming back until they do.”

She grimaced, rose and walked to the sink. The sound of running water reached his ears, as did the crinkle of plastic covering being torn from a glass. She filled the tumbler and took a long drink.

Sighing, she placed the glass by the sink and paced back to the table. She looked him in the eye. “You knew Mario. Probably better than anyone. He trusted you enough to order me to contact you should something happen to him—and weird things start happening to me. Someone tried to kill me—not once, but twice.” She held up two fingers for emphasis. “I'd say that qualifies as weird enough. You're here. Now what?”

Nothing like being put on the spot.

Ian stood and paced from one end of the room to the other. Then he turned and said, “Tell me about the first time someone tried to kill you.”

She shuddered and his heart pinched at the distress on her pretty face. A face strained and drawn with the stress that had become her life. “Not my favorite topic of conversation.”

“Come on. I need to hear the details.” He gestured toward the other chair and said, “Have a seat.”

 

Gina rubbed her eyes, gathered her strength and started. “I had just gotten home from work, having closed on a great
house. Everything had gone smoothly, and I was feeling better than I had in months. When I got to my house, I didn't notice anything wrong. My neighbor pulled into his drive about the same time I did, and I remember waving to him. He waved back and walked to get his mail. I walked up to the door and it was locked. I had to use my key like always.” She swallowed, closing her eyes as she visualized each detail of that day. “I opened the door, stepped inside and someone grabbed me from behind. He put something over my head.” Her breathing became shallow pants at the remembered terror. She had been certain she was going to be raped and killed.

Ian's hand reached over and grasped hers, holding it in an almost painful grip. She flexed her fingers and he let go. “Sorry.”

Clasping her hands together between her knees, she hunched her shoulders, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Leaning back and staring at the ceiling, she said, “I managed a pretty good scream before they stuffed a rag in my mouth. If they were going to kill me, I was going to make them work for it. I kicked one, got my hand free and managed to get the rag out of my mouth. I remember screaming again.”

This time his hand squeezed her shoulder, and she could feel the tension emanating from him in waves. “I'm sorry to make you recount this, but I've got to hear it.”

“I know. It's all right. It's just…” She shook her head and he encouraged her with the compassion in his eyes. “Then the one who had me from behind whispered in my ear, ‘Scream again and I'll slit your throat. Now, where is it?' He pulled the rag from my mouth and I asked him what he was looking for. He said, ‘Mario stole something from my boss and he wants it back.'”

“What did his voice sound like?” Ian interrupted. “Did he have an accent?”

Gina scrunched her nose as she tried to remember the voice and not the fear. “Maybe a slight one. He whispered so I can't…no, he didn't have any kind of distinguishable accent.” Then her head shot up to look him in the eye. “But the other guy did. In fact, I think he spoke a couple of Spanish words.”

Ian raised a brow. “Spanish, huh?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Then what happened?”

“I screamed that I didn't know what he was talking about, that Mario never told me about anything he stole. Then my neighbor was banging on my door, yelling my name and asking if I needed help. That's when we could hear the sirens coming down the street. The man holding me shoved me to the floor, and then they all ran out the back. At about that time my neighbor kicked the door in and said he'd called the police when he'd heard me screaming and through the window could see me struggling with someone.”

Ian ran a hand over his face. “Thank God your neighbor was home.”

“I know. He was early that day and so was I. I usually go to the gym around that time, but in spite of feeling so great about the sale, I had a headache and wanted to go home and lie down for a bit.”

“So you changed your routine that day.”

“Just a little, yes.”

“They probably weren't expecting you to show up.”

“You mean I surprised them?”

“Yeah. If they wanted to get in your house to do a search, most likely they'd been watching you for a while to get a good idea of your routine.”

“And I picked that day to alter it.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Unfortunately.” Ian stood and paced to the other end of the room, then back. “And that started it. They may have been trying to find whatever it was that Mario had without involving you, but once you walked in on them…”

Gina nodded and frowned. “So that's why it took them six months to come after me?”

“Maybe. And yet why let on that they were looking for something specific? They could have just acted like it was a robbery and left without saying anything.”

Silence descended, surrounding them as they lost themselves in their thoughts.

“They're out of options,” Gina stated quietly.

Ian focused in on her. “What do you mean?”

“They've probably been looking for whatever it is that Mario took since the day he died. Six months later they still haven't found it. I'm the only link left.”

An almost imperceptible nod came from Ian. “You could be right.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Well, we keep searching and keep avoiding whoever's after you until we find it.”

“I have a feeling that's going to be easier said than done.”

 

Ian shrugged. “Guess we're going to find out. I called a buddy of mine, Jason Sutton. He's going to bring us some supplies. Stuff my sister can't get her hands on or I'd have her bring it.”

Recognition lit her dark eyes. “I know Jase.” Then a frown formed between her brows. “But I don't know that Mario trusted him anymore. I know they had some kind of conflict
going on shortly before Mario died. Unfortunately, I don't think Mario trusted any of the guys from his unit.” Her gaze softened as she stared at him, and a flicker of confusion passed over her pretty features. “Just you. He trusted you. Why?”

Discomfort made him turn from her straightforward look. He couldn't share that information with her—yet. Under the guise of checking the street, he walked to the window, stepped to the side and pulled back the curtain a mere centimeter.