Defensive Action

Her skin went clammy. She glanced behind them. They were being pursued by mobsters.

“You have a phone?” he asked.

She pointed to the wheel well at his feet. “No reception.”

He made a scoop and captured the mobile, checking for a signal and then dropping the useless thing into the cup holder.

“What’s your name?”

“Haley Nobel.”

“Well, Haley, I’m Detective Howard Insbrook.”

What did she say now? Certainly not a pleasure because this was anything but.

“Nice to... Hi.”

He cast her an odd look.

“Where you from?” he asked.

“Born in Albany, NY, now living in Brooklyn.” She answered as if under investigation.

“I work on a joint task force on organized crime out of Glens Falls,” he said. “What is it you do?”

She hesitated. “Uh, I’m a computer programmer.”

“Who for?”

“Independent. I take on contract work, here and there. Work from home. You know.”

Her latest gig was an important client, the US Department of Homeland Security, but she wasn’t telling him that. She had a clearance level and everything. Unfortunately the job included not telling friends and family exactly what she was up to.

“Hmm,” he said and his gazed flicked to the rearview.

The sedan was just behind them. He swerved and braked, causing the other vehicle to appear to rocket up beside them. She glimpsed the passenger clearly through the collapsed window. He was pointing a handgun at them but their pursuers zipped forward until Haley’s front fender came parallel with the mobster’s rear door.

Detective Insbrook turned hard into the side of the opposite car as he punched the gas.

She pressed both palms to the ceiling upholstery and screamed but the sound was lost over the shriek of metal raking over metal.

The sedan turned before her rental car, pushed into an involuntary spin that sent the opposite vehicle careening by her passenger-side window and into the guardrail as they whizzed on.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“The academy,” he said.

She craned her neck to see the pursuit vehicle piled against the guardrail, the hood crumpled like a crushed aluminum can.

They wouldn’t be able to see over that hood, even if the car was drivable. She turned back to him.

“I don’t think they can come after us now,” she said.

“But they will. And soon.”

The relief sizzled away like fat dropped on a skillet and she pressed herself back into the seat. Her stomach hurt.

He drove with one hand now, and she saw the other was black and blue, as if someone had beaten him with a stick or a pipe or a sock with a roll of quarters or one of those...

Her phone chirped as it came back online.

“Rerouting,” said her phone’s navigation program. She snatched it up and saw she still had no service, but the GPS system was working.

“Huh. We’re only five miles from the camp,” she said. She had been heading in the right direction after all.

“You own a place up here?”

“No.” She stared at her phone. “I’m enrolled in adventure camp for a week.”

She glanced from the screen to him. He squinted at her, as if trying to determine if she was kidding.

Her dad thought the wilderness experience would stir her emotions and bring back the girl he had known, but that girl was gone. Dead gone.

“We can’t go there,” he said.

“Why not?”

“They have your plates.”

“It’s not my car. I rented it.”

“Doesn’t matter. These men can trace it to you.”

Fear filled her belly like chips of ice. If her work hacking systems taught her anything, it was how ridiculously easy it was to gain useful information.

His gaze flashed to the rearview and his jaw clenched, making the muscles there bulge. She knew what he saw. A turn of her head confirmed her fear. Behind them was a pair of halogen headlights.

“Is that them?”

He inclined his head and scowled at the road ahead.

“They’re gaining,” she said.

“Four cylinders,” he grumbled.

She’d been offered an upgrade but she’d turned it down.

The lights blinded her, illuminating the cab as the sedan closed the distance between them. The impact of the sedan slamming into their bumper sent Haley heaving forward. She was prevented from striking the dashboard by the cinching of her shoulder restraint. The Taurus skidded off the road, pushed by the sedan. Headlights skittered over a wall of pine-tree trunks. She had one instant to hold her breath and close her eyes before impact. The metal pounded the solid wood, collapsing as both front and side airbags exploded against her.

Chapter Three

Haley blinked her eyes open. Everything was white. She punched at the inflated airbag that gradually deflated. A fine dust swirled about the cabin, bright as chalk dust in the glow of the overhead cab light. She turned her head toward the driver’s seat and her neck gave a sharp pang.

“Ouch,” she whispered to no one. She blinked at the empty seat beside her and the open door. Where was Detective Insbrook?

She couldn’t open her door. Finally, she unfastened her safety belt and wiggled across the console to the driver’s seat. For once it was an advantage to be only five feet tall.

Haley pressed the starter button but heard only a click. The smell of gasoline aroused her dulled senses. She had to get out of the vehicle. She planted one foot on the floor mat and it rolled off something metallic. Glancing down she found her thermos. She gathered it up and then thought to collect her purse. Her mobile phone was no longer connected to the charger and her initial search yielded nothing. That was when she heard the first gunshot.

She hunched and half fell, half crawled out of the compartment, landing on hands and knees. The wet loam of pine needles immediately soaked the denim of her jeans and the ground felt soft and prickly, all at once. She scented moist earth and pine. Her voluminous purse fell forward, sliding under her chest and dragging on the ground before her.

What was happening?

She saw him then, the detective, crouching at the front fender holding her golf umbrella in two fists like a batter waiting for a pitch. Into her view stepped a pair of legs draped in cuffed trousers. The person wore the sort of expensive lace-up leather shoes she associated with Wall Street types and politicians. The fine brown leather was never intended for this sort of terrain.

She glimpsed the bottom of a dark wool overcoat and then Insbrook straightened and swung the umbrella. The blow hit the man’s arm as he fired a shot into the side of the Ford near Haley’s head. As the two locked together and grappled for the weapon, Haley scuttled on all fours in the opposite direction.

From behind the tangle of pine and crumpled front fender came the men grunting, coupled with the thud of them falling against the mangled auto and then the ground. She pressed her hands to her ears and then realized she still had her index finger looped in the handle of the cup fixed to the top of the metal thermos. A quick glance back showed her that the detective held her knife in a hand clasped by his attacker, who held a pistol in a hand captured by the detective. What neither of them saw was the third man, who made his way forward from the sedan to stand behind the wrestling pair with a raised handgun. He was similarly dressed to Insbrook’s opponent, had light brown skin and seemed to be waiting until he could get a clean shot at the detective, currently on his back on the ground. He sidestepped the grappling pair until he stood just beyond the pine tree where she crouched.

Haley’s heart seemed to have moved to her throat and each beat ached. She pressed herself to the tree trunk, using its solid support to help her rise. Then she weighed her options. If the second man turned now, he’d shoot her dead. She glanced to the forest. She could just run into the woods. Find a place to hide. He might hear her and come after her. That thought made her throat ache even worse. Could she hide in the darkness until the men were dead or gone?

She closed her eyes as she fought against the urge to help Insbrook.

Don’t be stupid. You’re not a cop. You’ve never even seen a gun.

But they were going to kill him. She knew it in her heart. They would shoot him down and then they would find her. What if he had a family, children? What would happen to her mom if she lost her only surviving child?

Haley drew in a deep breath and clamped her jaw tight. Her sister had fought for her life. Haley would do the same.

She gripped the thermos in two sweating hands and crept along the opposite side of the rear bumper, inching toward the tall brown-skinned man still trying for a shot at the detective.

The metal exterior of the thermos felt cold in her hand as she hoisted it high. She had a moment’s hesitation as she stared at the stubble of his shaved head and the large shiny patch at the crown where hair no longer grew. It was enough time for the man to sense her there. He turned his head. She was out of time. Haley rose up on her tiptoes and swung. Her right hand clutched the thermos and her left gripped her opposite wrist. The sound at contact and the reverberation hit her simultaneously. Blood spurted from the gash she created in his scalp with the bottom edge of the bludgeon.

“Oh, gosh!” she said as the man completed his turn and sank to one knee. He used his free hand to reach up to the top of his head and pressed it over the wound. Then he drew it away and stared silently at the blood that smeared his palm. He never looked at her. The gun dropped from his hand and she snatched it up by the barrel.

She glanced toward the detective to find he had his legs wrapped around his opponent’s neck and held one of his own ankles to increase the force of the choke hold. The man gasped and struggled, his purple face illuminated in terrifying color by the cab light.

Haley staggered back two steps as the man went limp.

“Get their keys,” said the detective.

She shook her head and continued to look between the bleeding man, now on hands and knees, and the big one who lay motionless beside the car.

“Is he...?”

“Choked out. Now hurry.” The detective was already searching his opponent, coming up with a wallet but no keys.

The amount of blood issuing from the head wound she had caused made her queasy. But she tucked the thermos under her arm, crept forward and used her free hand to reach into one of the large side pockets. She felt a wallet and reached past in search of the keys but found nothing. Withdrawing her hand, the wallet fell to the ground and flopped open. The badge and ID were unmistakable. DEA was printed in large blue letters and the gold shield looked very official. Not a wallet, she realized. It was the identification of a representative from the Drug Enforcement Agency of the United States. And she had just clobbered him over the head and taken his gun.

She gaped up at the detective, if he were a detective.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and hustled them toward the agents’ car.

She pulled back and shook her head. What if they were trying to apprehend a criminal and she’d brained one of them?

“There’s one more,” he said, pressing her down behind the front of the car. “Wait here.” He pointed at the ground and, as if she were his hound, she sank to her knees.

He gripped his enemy’s gun and disappeared from her sight.

Haley heard the sedan door chime and then gunfire. Four rapid discharges. Pop-pop-pop-pop, like a string of firecrackers. Then came a thud.

She bit down on her fist and waited.

Run, you idiot.

But her legs would not lift her and her knees clanked together like the Tin Man’s in The Wizard of Oz.

“Come up,” he called.

Haley lowered her hand and rose. Then she ran in the opposite direction toward the woods. He had her around the waist before she reached the beckoning darkness of the tree line. He hauled her off her feet. One iron arm gripped her about the waist.

He ignored her struggles as he carried her past the two still figures. A third lay beside the open passenger door that now held four bullet holes. The driver lay facedown, red head turned to the side. One eye stared vacantly out and his mouth gaped. There were four holes in the back of his jacket.

The door chime had ceased and all she could hear was the blood pounding in her eardrums.

“Is he...?”

“Get in,” he ordered and set her on her feet.

She took a step away from him. He captured her wrist, the one holding the bloody thermos. There could be no mistake now. He’d killed this man. Detectives did not shoot people down and then run.

“I don’t have time to argue.” He opened the passenger door and shoved her inside. It was then she realized she had the DEA officer’s gun, but was still holding it upside down.

When he got into the driver’s side, she had it the right way around, at her side between the passenger-side door and the bucket seat. She was no longer defenseless.

Haley found herself inside the stolen sedan as they rocketed backward onto the road. The man she had brained with the thermos was now standing. He hunched with one hand on the trunk and the other holding his gashed head, illuminated in a perfect still image in the sweep of the headlights before they raced past the pair.

She’d seen the badge of the DEA agent and she was fairly certain the ID was a counterfeit. She cast a glance at the bleeding, dirty man who had represented himself as a detective. Her gut told her that had also been a lie. So did she challenge this stranger or keep quiet?

He’d forced her into this car and what had started as an act of mercy on her part now seemed a mistake so grand that adventure camp paled in comparison.

This was a kidnapping—her kidnapping.

She looked down at her hands, one holding the thermos and the other gripping the agent’s gun.

* * *

RYAN CARR CLENCHED the wheel and headed down the open road. He’d taken these goons on a wild-goose chase, ending with him rolling out of a car moving way faster than he’d realized. He’d skipped along the asphalt like a rock and had road-burn all over his shoulder and back. It would be a while before his skin would heal and he was sure he’d have scars.

It didn’t matter. The pain helped him focus on getting back. He’d acted as the rabbit to draw away the hounds. Now he needed to find out if his contact, Takashi Tanaka, had succeeded in making the drop, as promised.

The woman beside him cleared her throat. He glanced in her direction.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Gotta check on a friend.”

“Could you drop me somewhere?”

The local authorities were already after him, thanks to the job his enemies had done impersonating federal law enforcement. It was a good long way to Lake George Village and every trooper between here and there was looking for him. If Takashi had gotten through, it would be simple, he could pick up the intel from the drop and return to base. If not, he needed to stay ahead of the law and the sleeper cell he knew would be after him just as soon as his captors failed to report in. Were they members of the organization Takashi had mentioned—Siming’s Army, the Deathbringers?

“You still have your phone, Haley?” he asked. He already knew the answer. She didn’t. “Maybe you can call the police for us?”

She hesitated at that, her mouth pursing. The woman was not only his savior, she was beautiful, and smart enough not to automatically believe him. Haley had light brown hair and intelligent blue eyes that were trying to work this out. Her brows arched as he debated if it was her full, tempting lips, the heart-shaped face or the widely spaced eyes that made her such a knockout. The sum of her parts, he decided, and the fact that she had literally picked him up off the road and taken out a spy with years of military training with a thermos. The man made a classic blunder, underestimating his opponent or perhaps not even recognizing that she was an opponent. Ryan knew that she was deciding her next move and she still had Needle’s handgun.

If she pulled that gun on him, he’d have to kill her.

It was doubtful she still believed his detective bullshit and a second lie would be harder to believe. He’d put her in danger, but really, could she be in more trouble than she was now? If he left her, she was dead. And it would be a terrible, messy and painful death. If he took her, she might reduce his chances of reaching Lake George Village.

She deserved better but he had a mission to complete. Ryan had a bigger problem. The pain was no longer focusing him. It was blurring his vision.

Chapter Four

Ryan swiped at his eyes, but they failed to snap back into focus. In fact, the dark central tunnel in his field of vision was expanding,

“Where’s that camp?”

“A...a ways. It’s a hotel, lodge really.”

A lie, he thought. The hesitation was a tell. He’d have to speak to her about that. Also she wouldn’t meet his gaze, preferring to look at her now empty hands. The thermos lay in her lap, the bottom rim stained red. The handgun was likely in her pocket or purse. It seemed the thermos was her weapon of choice.

There were no hotels on this lake. He knew the terrain and his exact location. This Schroon Lake was connected to a larger one which bordered several small communities, but her GPS had said she was a few miles from her destination. The adventure camp was here, close by. But they couldn’t stay there and he needed to ditch this car, fast.

What could he tell her that would keep them both alive?

He was mulling over if he should tell her another lie or the truth. And if he told her the truth, how much did he need to reveal? She was going to live or die with him regardless of what he told her.

The important thing was that he do the best he could for her because she’d stopped for him. She’d saved him. And that made it hard to follow the directive to recover at all costs the flash drive containing the stolen intelligence on Siming’s Army. His supervisors would tell him to leave her behind. She was a liability and her death meant nothing compared to the deaths of thousands.

But it meant something to him. He knew what Hornet and Needle would do to her. They’d never believe she wasn’t involved. So they’d torture her and learn nothing. Collateral damage. The part of his heart that did not follow orders decided to bring her along. At least until he knew about Takashi. If Takashi had not succeeded in making the drop, Ryan needed to find him before their pursuers did.

“Hey!” she yelled.

He jerked his head up. Had he dozed off or passed out? Didn’t matter. His vision was blurry and shaking his head did no good.

“Hold the wheel,” he said.

The tension vibrated in her voice. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to pass out.”

* * *

HALEY’S ABDUCTOR PROCEEDED to do just that, slumping backward and against the open window.

She lunged for the wheel but his foot remained on the gas, the dead weight of his leg propelling them along too fast for this winding road.

Now what?

She didn’t know but the upcoming turn in the road told her that she needed his foot off the gas or they were going off the road.

Again.

Haley imagined the federal agents following on foot and finding them wrapped around a tree. She used her opposite hand to shove for all she was worth, pushing until his foot slid from the gas pedal.

They glided easily around the turn, which required two hands on the wheel. Then they coasted to a stop on the dark road.

The heater blew and the engine rumbled. Through the vacant place where the rear window had been and broken windshield came the sound of the wind in the pine trees.

Why wasn’t there anyone else on this blasted road?

She’d wanted to please her dad and so she’d done what he asked her, hoping she wouldn’t disappoint him, wishing she could find the courage to step back into the stream of life, but knowing that was where the danger lay. Didn’t this just prove her point?

Human wolves preyed on the weak and old, on drunk coeds. Police investigations revealed that her older sister spent as much time in bars as in the classroom. But her mother would not hear this. It went counter to her picture of her eldest daughter. In four days, Haley went from younger to only daughter. Of course she hadn’t known that for five months. Five long, terrible months of worry over the missing.

She glanced over at the unconscious man beside her, illuminated only by the dashboard light. Blood oozed from the abrasions on his chest and shoulders, glistening in the blue glow from the dash. His head slumped down. She’d only seen this kind of musculature in action-adventure movies, when the hero somehow managed to lose his shirt or remove it for the female audience’s sake. But this was real. He was real. She released her seat belt and placed a hand on his chest. His ribs rose and fell beneath her palm. His skin was too warm and damp with sweat.

Shock? The condition rose from her memory along with a list of symptoms and the emergency treatment for it.

Why she had ever thought premed was her life’s passion was beyond her. She didn’t even recognize that girl, the one who’d wanted the excitement of being a physician’s assistant in a busy NYC emergency room. Being called to identify her sister’s body had made it impossible to ever voluntarily visit a hospital again. Haley shuddered as sweat beaded cold on her forehead. No. Life-and-death situations were definitely not in her wheelhouse. At least not the death part.

Her heart beat painfully against her ribs and her throat burned.

“Oh, no you don’t, Haley. You are not going to cry.”

* * *

RYAN FELT THE pressure of someone’s touch on his chest, the contact light and tentative. His eyes snapped open and he clamped his hand around the woman’s wrist. She jumped and tugged in a vain effort to retrieve her captured appendage.

She could have shot him.

She could have left the car and made a run for it.

But she’d decided to check his condition instead. It wasn’t wise. But it was kind. How long since he’d seen this sort of compassion?

“Haley,” he whispered.

He released her. She rubbed her wrist with her opposite hand, not using either to hold the gun, which he knew she still had.

“What happened?”

“You fainted, I think.”

“Passed out,” he said and stretched backwards until his neck pressed to the headrest. “Marines don’t faint.”

“Is that what you are now? A Marine? Not a detective?”

He blew out a breath. “Once a Marine...”

She lifted her chin and gave him an appraising stare with those bright, intelligent eyes.

“Look, if I tell you the truth, chances are good you won’t believe me. But if you are captured, you’ll know that you died protecting your country.”

“Um, I can’t die. It will kill my mother.”

“Then we have to get off the road.”

She said nothing, but slipped her hand into her purse, leaving it there on what he suspected was the handle of the gun. He’d need to take that from her soon. But for now it seemed to make her feel safe. Chances were good that she’d make her escape attempt just as soon as she got out of the car.

“I have a cabin reserved close to here.”

“They have your car.”

“So?”

“So they’ll find you there.”

“That’s impossible.”

“By now they have your social media posts for the last decade. You didn’t mention your plans there, did you?”

She said nothing. Of course she had.

“They know your home address because it is on the car rental agreement.”

“How do you know it’s a rental?”

“Bar code. Rear window.”