Volcano (33 page)

“Let's just get out of here, all right?” he suggested. “If you're not here, your boss can't fire you. Bill all your time to my account. That's what my accountant does anyway. How long before the car arrives?”

She shrugged and looked regretfully at the flowers. “Not long. I guess it would look kind of odd to take these with me.”

“I'll buy you more. I'll buy entire bushes. C'mon, let's go. The longer I stay in this place, the more nervous I get.” Scraping a path through the chocolates with his foot, Charlie pulled her from the chair.

She reached over and captured a fragile peach-colored bud from the vase, then scooped up a handful of the foil-wrapped chocolates from the floor. “Rachel will think we had a food fight.”

The longer she dragged this out, the more nervous he became. Charlie figured she was making him crazy on purpose. He rescued the box and dumped a handful of truffles into it. “Everyone has to eat a bit of dirt in their lifetime. Here, take this.”

She carefully reattached the lid and tucked the box and his note into the bulging leather satchel containing her laptop. Then she jerked open a desk drawer and removed a compact cell phone. “I hate these things, but it might be helpful. Surely Jacobsen can't trace calls?”

“Hell if I know.” Catching her elbow, he dragged her toward the door. “Can you throw basketballs as well as you throw candy?” he demanded as they hurried down the silent, carpeted corridor. He had to keep her busy mind occupied.

“I was a cheerleader, remember? Didn't have time for basketball.” Her long strides matched his easily.

“Bet you would have been good,” he muttered as they reached the lobby. Charlie grimaced as still another messenger appeared outside the glass enclosure. One of these days he'd learn not to go overboard.

The gray-capped delivery man entered bearing a giant white teddy bear cuddling a shiny red cardboard heart-shaped box. Rachel looked up at it, grinned, and turned a speculative gaze to them as Charlie tried to push Penelope out the door.

“Better wait a second, Miss Albright. Looks like another special delivery.”

Penelope had donned her horn-rimmed glasses sometime during their flight down the hall. With her hair jerked back in its tight knot and wearing her straitlaced, no-nonsense suit, she had reverted to the iron robot Charlie had first seen at the airport. But he knew her better now, knew the passionate woman who could make love to him in a Jacuzzi, dump fish bait over his head when angered, and love her family to the point of working herself to death for them. That woman gazed longingly at the giant white teddy bear.

Penelope hesitated just long enough for Rachel to sign the messenger's receipt and glance at the delivery name. When the receptionist didn't stop her, she started to turn and follow the messenger out the door.

“For you, Miss Albright,” Rachel called brightly.

“Damn you, Charlie Smith,” Penelope murmured beneath her breath. “I'm going to hate you forever for this.”

Charlie speculated on the nature of love/hate relationships as she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and swung around to act totally surprised for Rachel's benefit.

“For me? Beth must have found a bargain on stuffed animals somewhere. Thank you.” She gingerly lifted the mammoth animal with her free arm. Charlie tried to relieve her of the laptop so she could hold the bear, but she clung to it as she would to a lifeline.

“Aren't you going to look at the card?” Rachel called after her as Penelope strode hurriedly for the door.

“I'll look at it later. It's probably for the kids.” Breezily, she swept out of the office, leaving Charlie to catch up.

“Damn you, damn you, damn you,” she muttered as she hurried down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator.

“How do you know it's from me?” Charlie demanded as he raced down the dark stairwell after her. He'd never met so perverse a woman in his entire life. Try to make her smile, and she cursed. Still, he'd seen her eyes when that bear arrived, and he could hear the tears in her voice now. She was on the verge of breaking down. He was starting to understand that Miss Penny didn't like losing control.

“Nobody sends me stuffed animals,” she practically sobbed as she shoved at the heavy metal door to the parking garage. “Do I look like a stuffed animal kind of person?”

“You look like a woman who would have a houseful of dogs and cats, given the opportunity,” Charlie declared boldly. “I would have given you a puppy if I'd thought the complex would allow it.” He couldn't believe he saw her so well, but he did, as if a giant light bulb had turned on and illuminated her soul. She was as soft and squishy inside as those candies she'd shoved into her briefcase, but this damned job and her responsibilities were drying her out and making her as hard as her exterior disguise.

“I—” she started to say as they stepped into the hot garage. She halted abruptly in front of him, and Charlie nearly plowed into her.

Righting himself, he glanced over her shoulder at the two men in dark raincoats blocking their path. One aimed what Charlie could only assume was the semiautomatic rifle they'd discussed earlier. Behind them waited the black Cadillac with tinted windows.

Cursing under his breath, Charlie bumped his hip into the elevator button in the concrete wall behind them. Then he prayed.

“The briefcase, Miss Albright,” the tall gunman demanded.

Penelope hesitated. Charlie's heart nearly stopped. “Give it to him,” he all but shouted. He sure as hell didn't intend to lose her over a blasted computer.

With obvious reluctance, she slipped the heavy strap from her shoulder. She juggled the bear and the bag with suspicious awkwardness. Charlie had never seen her make an awkward move. Just as he realized what she intended, she swung the bag—hard.

Oh, hell.

The taller man screamed in pain as the heavy briefcase connected squarely with his groin.

As the elevator door slowly opened, Charlie shoved the red fire-alarm button, jerked Penelope to the ground, and rolled into the elevator just as bullets pelted over their heads. The fire alarm screeched and echoed through the hollow cement walls of the garage. The elevator doors slammed closed.

Gunfire shot through the doors as the elevator plunged downward.

“Damn you, why couldn't you just give him the damned computer!” Charlie raged as the elevator hit bottom and the doors didn't open.

“You were supposed to knock the other guy over, not get us locked in a stupid elevator!” she screamed back, standing and pounding the emergency button.

She still clung to the bear. From the looks of the mangled box in the bear's arms, the animal had taken the brunt of her fall. Charlie swallowed a small gulp of relief. He'd never tackled a woman before. He'd been afraid he'd broken every bone in her body.

“Just like the TV movies, I suppose,” he said derisively. “I should have tackled him, torn the gun from his hands, and sprayed them with lead. Right, I'll remember that next time.” He was still shaken. He didn't mean to yell at her like that.

The elevator door sprang open and Penelope all but fell out onto the pavement. The wail of the fire alarm pounded against Charlie's eardrums as he caught her and steered her toward what he thought should be the entrance. From a distance, he could hear the scream of sirens. That ought to give the two goons pause.

“I suppose the rental car is upstairs,” he grumbled, finally taking her briefcase away and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, but the elevators lock, and if anyone pays attention to fire alarms, the entire building should be emptying down those stairs by now.” She clutched her bear with both arms and let Charlie drag her toward the entrance ramp.

Deciding she was already scared enough without him yelling, Charlie shut his mouth. Even if crowds of people poured into the streets, he and Penelope couldn't lose themselves in the mix. They might enjoy the protection of police and fire crews for a while, but the goons could still see them. He had to think of a way out of here without being seen.

“Back entrance, Penelope,” he demanded, stopping short, holding her elbow. “The bastards will run out the front with everyone else. They can't be everywhere at once.”

She hesitated, then turned back toward the concrete blocks of the stairs. Charlie followed. He didn't think returning upstairs was such a hot idea—he'd seen entirely too many movies where someone got trapped on the roof because they were too stupid to run down instead of up—but he didn't know this building as she did. He'd have to trust her.

She skirted around the concrete blocks to the back part of the garage. A low wall separated the parking spaces from an oleander foundation hedge outside the garage. With only a moment's hesitation, she scanned the hedge, found the weakest spot, and determinedly strode toward it.

A parking lot full of interested sightseers waited beyond. He and Penelope would have to take their chances that the gunmen were still at the front end of the building, waiting for them to come out the ramps. Charlie dropped Penelope's arm, parted the hedge as best as he could, and lifted her up to step over the wall first. He followed, leaving a gaping hole of broken branches. If anyone cared to look, they would know how they'd escaped. He prayed he and Penelope would be well on their way before anyone figured it out.

The sightseers hurried over to talk to them, but Penelope just vaguely waved toward the front of the building. “It's up there. Flames all over. I couldn't breathe.” She talked as she walked, pushing people aside and aiming for the street without giving anyone a chance to stop her.

Charlie loved the way she did that. She sailed past men and women alike, as if she were a queen with more important places to be. He'd admired her style from the first moment he'd seen her.

That didn't mean he wasn't still furious at her for risking her damned life. He hailed a taxi slowing down to watch the spectacle.

“Got a fire?” the driver asked laconically as Charlie opened the door and all but shoved Penelope in, bear and all.

“False alarm,” he asserted coldly. “We're late for a meeting.” He gave the driver the address of the hotel his crew was working on near the airport. Then he turned to Penelope and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

She rummaged in her briefcase and produced the compact phone. “You wouldn't have it if I'd given them the bag,” she reminded him.

“I wouldn't need it if you'd given them the bag,” he retorted. Then, after pounding in the numbers for his office, he barked orders at Sherry.

In the corner of the backseat, Penelope hugged her bear and looked out the window. They were back to square one.

***

“We don't
need
a map, John,” Beth said patiently, trying not to hold her hand to her pounding head, praying the pain would go away so she could think clearly. “There are signs right on the highway. All you have to do is follow them.”

In the backseat, Tammy was halfheartedly singing the alphabet song with the kids. The two runaway lovers had been remarkably unloverlike all the way up here. Beth could have told Charlie's little sister that men didn't like women running after them, but she guessed people had to learn for themselves. Of course, if Raul had just been playing with Tammy and hadn't meant anything serious, Beth suspected Charlie would rip his friend's head off.

None of that was her problem. Her problem, as always, was the obstinate jerk in the driver's seat. Most men wouldn't stop for directions, but John was insistent on finding a map. How in the world anyone could get lost looking for the state's biggest tourist attraction was beyond her.

She rubbed the heel of her palm against her aching forehead.
Of course.
Stupid of her not to realize it. John had something he wanted to do before he got to the park. Police work, without a doubt. Even if he'd changed from lawyer to cop, he hadn't changed his work- obsessed mentality.

“Fine. Watch for one of those tourist stands. We'll pick up maps. The kids can use the rest room. Take all the time you want,” she said pointedly.

He squeezed her hand with what she assumed was gratitude. “Thanks. Tammy can help you handle the kids, can't she?”

“I don't need help handling the kids.” This was an old argument, the one that had ultimately led to the destruction of their marriage. He'd wanted to treat her like a damned helpless invalid. She might as well have had a giant billboard pasted to her face, saying
out of order.

Wisely, he didn't argue. He pulled into a parking lot, shut off the car engine, and announced break time.

She might boldly proclaim her independence, but the truth was, in unfamiliar territory, she was lost. Grasping her stick, she climbed from the van on her own, then listened for the sound of voices. John and Raul had stepped behind the van to talk. Gratefully, she heard Tammy limping toward her with the kids chattering beside her.

With shouts, the kids raced toward the rest rooms. They could read the signs, and Sean stopped outside the men's rest room, waiting for his father.