скачать книгу бесплатно
The tone of that one word warned her that she shouldn’t ask any questions. She set the headlamps to the on position and eased away from the curb.
“Where are we going?” She hated that her voice trembled. Damn him.
“Just drive.”
Fury blasted her. That was it. She’d had enough. Maggie slammed her foot on the brake. The car rocked to a stop. “Where are we going?” She was a grown woman. She had responsibilities, first and foremost to herself.
“Maggie.”
She closed her eyes, couldn’t bear to hear him say her name. “Stop. Just stop.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“We have to move,” he urged. “We can talk later. Right now you just have to trust me.”
Maggie laughed. She didn’t mean to, but the sound, brittle and painful, just burst out of her. “You have to be kidding!” She was hysterical. The stress had evidently pushed her over the edge.
When cold steel pressed against her temple, her attention swung to the rearview mirror. He had a gun to her head. A gun! “What’re you doing?”
“Drive, Maggie. Just drive.”
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Forcing her foot to move from the brake to the accelerator, she reminded herself to breathe. She’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
An explosion fragmented the silence. Light burst to her left, changing the darkness to a brilliant yellow. Pieces of something showered down on her car. Not hail…but rocks or pieces of brick.
As if in slow motion, she turned to stare out the car window. The brownstone where Slade worked and lived had blown up. Flames licked toward the stars. Pieces of the building lay on the sidewalk…on the street. On the hood of her car.
“Go, Maggie! Hurry!”
Somehow her foot punched the accelerator. The car lunged forward.
She tried to blink away the images, her fingers cramped from clutching the steering wheel so tightly. This couldn’t be happening. The man she loved—the father of her unborn child—had put a gun to her head. His office—his apartment—had just exploded.
In that moment her reality sharpened into perfect clarity. She had never known this man. She had suspected as much. Her intuition had warned repeatedly that he was hiding something. Everything. Above all else, his identity.
Maggie slammed on the brakes, harder this time. She glared at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Who are you?”
He leaned forward, reached up and threaded his fingers into her hair. His hold tightened as he pulled her closer. She should scream. She knew this. But his slightest touch rendered her totally helpless.
“I know you better than you know yourself, Maggie. I know you want to trust me.”
She wanted to argue. The words refused to form on her tongue. The sound of his voice slid around her, tethering her as surely as if he’d used steel bands. How could she lose all control so easily? Where was her courage? Her logic?
His lips pressed nearer to her ear. She shivered. “If you don’t do as I say we’re both going to die. I, for one, have no desire to die tonight.”
The cold steel of the weapon he held snuggled against her throat. “Now, drive.”
Chapter Two
2:10 a.m.
Victoria Colby-Camp heard the ring of the bedside phone, but the concept of opening her eyes and answering was far too difficult to grasp. The sound of her husband’s voice as he took the call parted the constricting layers of sleep, allowing her to rouse more fully. Who would call at this hour?
“Was anyone hurt?”
Victoria sat up, instantly wide awake. “What’s happened?” Was it Jim or one of the children? A member of their extended family at the Colby Agency? Fear roared through her body like a fire set to dry kindling.
“We’ll be right there.” Lucas heaved a weary breath as he placed the phone back into its cradle and turned to his wife. “A friend from Chicago P.D. called Jim. We don’t have any real details just yet, but there’s been an explosion at the brownstone.”
The offices of Jim’s old firm, the Equalizers. Almost two years ago now, Slade Keaton had taken over the firm since Jim had joined Victoria at the Colby Agency. Early last year Keaton had moved into the renovated upstairs apartment of the brownstone. Jim had gone there shortly after midnight to confront him regarding their suspicions as to his true identity. He’d found no sign of Keaton. Thank God Jim hadn’t been in or near the building when the explosion occurred.
“Was anyone in the building?” Maggie James, the owner of the coffee shop across the street from the Colby Agency offices, was Keaton’s girlfriend. Anguish tore through Victoria. She prayed they were both safe. Whoever Keaton was and whatever he had done, Victoria wished him no harm. And Maggie was innocent in all this. Her only misstep was falling in love with a man whose past was an enigma that even Lucas hadn’t been able to decipher.
“The explosion occurred less than an hour ago. Maybe fifteen minutes after Jim was there looking for Keaton.” Lucas adjusted his prosthetic leg and stood. “They’ve only just gotten the fire under control. They’re waiting for the rubble to cool to start the search.”
Victoria dropped her feet to the carpeted floor and rushed to the closet for clothes. “Were any of the neighboring buildings damaged?” she called out to Lucas. The brownstones along the two nearly identical blocks were structurally connected. She doubted one could have been destroyed without damage to one or more of the others. Since most were businesses, she prayed no one had been working late. The injury or death of the innocent was always the most devastating in deliberate acts such as this. Admittedly, she had no way of knowing if the explosion was deliberate just yet. However, based on the events that had taken place recently related to Keaton, she felt confident that the explosion was the result of foul play.
“The two buildings on either side were damaged, but Jim didn’t mention to what extent. He may not have known. He’s en route. We’ll be right behind him. Perhaps there will be more information by then.”
Victoria dressed and stepped into a pair of comfortable leather slides, not bothering with socks. Grabbing a clasp from her bedside table, she tucked up her shoulder-length hair. Lucas was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and sneakers, no less. She so rarely saw him dressed casually that she almost smiled in spite of the circumstances. Thank God for him. As much as she loved her son and her grandchildren, her life would not be complete without Lucas.
Victoria grabbed her purse as they hurried to the garage. Lucas tucked his weapon into the waistband of his jeans. Ever the gentleman, he opened then closed her car door before climbing behind the wheel. As soon as they backed out into the driveway, the house and garage were secured with a single click of the security remote. The rest of their small gated community was tucked in for the night. The gas streetlamps and lovely landscape lighting had a calming effect. As scary as the world could be sometimes, she was very thankful for a safe and pleasant neighborhood.
With her nerves settled, Victoria used the time as Lucas drove through the darkness to consider the possible causes of the explosion. Gas leak…? Explosive device? Did Keaton keep explosives on hand? Surely that was not the case.
Considering what had happened only days ago to Levi Stark and Casey Manning, Lucas’s goddaughter, in Acapulco, Keaton had made some powerful enemies. Had those enemies caught up with him this night?
Victoria blinked away the images that immediately attempted to intrude. She didn’t want to think about the woman…the one they called the Dragon. According to Levi and Casey, she looked a great deal like Victoria—like a sister. That Lucas had had an affair with the woman made it hard for Victoria to breathe.
But that was in the past. Thirty years ago. Victoria had no right to feel jealousy about that time. If this woman was Keaton’s mother, as suggested from the results of Levi and Casey’s investigation, she clearly had no motherly feelings for her son. That part of the intelligence—the biological connection—had not been corroborated, so it was best not to speculate. Bottom line, the Dragon was an enemy to Keaton and, it seemed, to Lucas.
The idea made no sense. Why wait all these years to strike? Of course, she may have only just located Keaton. Perhaps thanks to Victoria and Lucas trolling his history. As much as she wanted the truth in order to assess any threat from Keaton, Victoria genuinely hoped she and Lucas had not triggered this tragedy.
“This has nothing to do with anything you did.”
Her husband had read her mind. The tension banded around her chest eased the slightest bit. “How can you be so sure?” She had sent Levi down to Mexico. Keaton had stirred her suspicions and she’d reacted. Dear God, what had they done?
“This one is on me,” Lucas said quietly. “You need to understand that. You have no part in that world.”
The question Victoria had wanted to ask for the past twenty-four hours pressed against her skull. She needed to know. But did she have a right to know? “Are you certain I had no part in what happened?” She held her breath. The woman looked like Victoria, after all. Had that been the reason Lucas had turned to her all those years ago?
Two, then three beats of silence passed. Lucas reached for her hand. “Let’s not do this to ourselves until we have the facts. Whatever is happening may be about Keaton only. The ordeal in Mexico may have been a way to smoke him out once our connection to him was established.” Lucas exhaled a big breath. “The fact is, we can’t rule out or confirm anything yet.”
Victoria ordered herself to breathe. Lucas had assumed her question was about the current situation. In time they would need to talk about her other question, the one she really needed to ask. But that would have to wait.
This puzzle had to be pieced together very carefully, one fragment at a time. Far too much was at stake to go about this any other way.
THE BROWNSTONE STILL smoldered when they arrived on the block. Jim waited for them just outside the perimeter of the crime scene. The cold filtered right through the thick sweater Victoria had chosen. She hugged her arms around herself and hoped for good news about Keaton and Maggie.
“Still no word on victims,” Jim said as they approached. “I called Maggie’s home number as well as the coffee shop and there’s no answer. Keaton isn’t answering his cell and his car is parked in the alley.” Jim jerked his head toward the brownstone. “It’ll be hours before we know the probable cause of the explosion and if there are victims.”
The chill invading her bones turned Victoria’s blood to ice. “What about the neighboring buildings?”
“One’s empty and the other’s a business. The owner has confirmed that no one employed there was in the building tonight.”
Thank God for that news. Victoria stared at the wreck that had been the home of the Equalizers. Her instincts warned that this was deliberate, calculated destruction. Whoever had done this either wanted Keaton dead or wanted to send him a very loud message.
Lucas and Jim discussed the steps that would be taken by the police and fire departments. Victoria tried to pay attention, but her mind kept wandering to Maggie and how all this would affect her—if she was still alive. Dread ached in Victoria’s bones.
Jim had tried to reach Keaton all night, but he’d simply disappeared. Victoria had considered calling Maggie or paying her a visit to warn her. What would she have said? I think the man you love is dangerous?
Regret settled, heavy and sickening, in Victoria’s stomach. She should have warned Maggie.
Now it might be too late.
Chapter Three
2:32 a.m.
Slade Keaton… He didn’t know why he continued to consider himself by that name. That life was over. If he’d needed convincing, the past couple of hours had confirmed that fact. Hanging on to such superficial trappings was a grave error. He knew this.
Another change wasn’t the end of the world. He’d changed his name so many times during the latter part of his thirty years on this earth that he couldn’t even remember all the ones he’d used. This was not a new scenario to him.
Yet, somehow, it felt like the end of the world…like a whole new concept. Because of her. His gaze settled on the woman behind the wheel. Slade closed his eyes and shook his head. He’d made a mistake. That, he could say with complete confidence, was a first. He opened his eyes and focused his attention on the dark road ahead. A man like him couldn’t afford careless mistakes. He’d been trained better than that.
Images from his formative years attempted to invade his concentration. He kicked them aside. The past was irrelevant. Nothing mattered except today…this moment. He would not die for her.
Rage tightened his lips. Mother. Madre. The woman who had been anything but a mother to him. He had eluded her, just as he had eluded the rest of the world, for a dozen years now. No one had cornered him. But his recent mistake had allowed her to find him. Now there was only one way this could end.
One of them had to die.
The idea of killing his own mother evoked only one emotion. Determination.
“What now?”
Slade shifted his attention back to the here and now. Maggie had stopped at an intersection. Deep, dark woods closed in on all sides, leaving the highway nothing but a black river flowing in front of the headlights. Even the moon and stars had concealed themselves as if they, too, sensed the impending doom.
“Do I go straight or turn?” Her voice was sharp but still shaky. She was scared and rightly so. Maggie James had no idea how close to death she’d already come. If he was successful in maintaining her cooperation, she would never know.
“Take a right.” Slade calculated the miles before they reached the motel. Four, maybe five more. The place was a dump, but it was close to the interstate and there was a café next door. It would fulfill his immediate requirements.
Maggie made the turn and drove onward through the darkness. She’d stopped asking questions an hour ago. Mostly because of the weapon he’d wielded. Guilt nudged him. He’d done what he had to. She might never realize it, but he’d saved her life.
“How much farther?”
It looked as if she was through with the silent treatment. “Not far now.” She wasn’t going to like the next step in his plan any more than she’d liked the last. There was nothing he could do about that. Time was of the essence.
The headlamps spotlighted a road sign in the distance indicating a ramp to the interstate. After he’d covered arrangements for Maggie, he’d take that interstate to St. Louis. From there he had private air transport to Mexico City. He had contacts in Mexico City. This war would require extensive resources. And a whole lot of something he’d been short on his whole life—good luck.
Luck, right. He had made his own way in this life. Depending on luck would have offered him as much security as counting on his so-called mother to be a parent. Not happening.
Slade hadn’t actually missed having a real parent. One couldn’t miss what one hadn’t had. But, recently, he had begun to wonder what it would have felt like. What his life would have been like had his circumstances been different. How would it feel to have a real relationship?
He was a fool. Fury hardened his jaw. He should not have stayed in Chicago so long. Weakness had invaded, making him soft and stupid. He would never have a real anything. He was not real, not in that sense.
The motel’s aged neon sign strained upward, high above the one-story queue of run-down rooms, in order to be seen by travelers on the interstate. Two tractor-trailers were parked along the side of the road. There wouldn’t be enough space on the old strip of a parking lot for rigs that size, but the motel offered drivers a cheap place to sleep for a few hours before hitting the road again. Slade had checked out the motel and gotten a profile on the typical guest.
“Pull into the motel parking lot,” he instructed, then waited for her to comply. “Park in front of the office.”
He’d rented the car under an alias and stashed it for this leg of his departure. He hadn’t known then that he would have a passenger. To some degree the snag could work in his favor. Having dumped Maggie’s car at the bus station would serve as a ruse, helping to buy sufficient time to get to St. Louis.
Maggie shut off the headlights and the engine. Her hands continued to clutch the steering wheel. Her respiration was slow enough to indicate some level of calmness, but he couldn’t be certain of how she would react during the next few minutes.
“We’re going in to rent a room.” He leaned forward. “Don’t force me to do something you’ll regret.”
“Like you haven’t already?”
Her voice didn’t wobble now; rather, she sounded weary and resigned and just a little frustrated. That shouldn’t make his gut tighten with regret, but it did. He mentally narrowed the situation into focus and blocked those senseless, dangerous emotions. “You’ll thank me later. Now, get out.”
They emerged simultaneously. He tucked the weapon into his waistband beneath his jacket. His arm went around her waist and she tensed.
“Relax.” He paused and looked directly into her green eyes. They glistened with the fear she worked so hard to hide. “We need this to look natural. No trouble, okay?”
She nodded. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Her breath caught and she trembled. The satisfaction he should have felt at having that much power over her failed to make an appearance.
Keeping one arm around her, Slade pushed open the door to the office. A bell jingled. The guy behind the desk looked up from the compact television blaring with the canned laughter of a sitcom. He studied Slade from behind his nerdy eyeglasses. Looked young enough to be a college student or maybe a dropout. Working the graveyard shift apparently made him a little jumpy. He lowered the volume on the set.
“You need a room for the night—” the guy glanced at Maggie “—or the hour?”
Slade didn’t smile. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a bill big enough to get the clever guy’s attention. “The night. We’ve still got a long way to drive.” He pulled Maggie closer and gave her the smile he’d kept from the clerk. “Don’t we, baby?”
She nodded, the move jerky. “We… Yes.”
The clerk reached for the old-fashioned row of boxes that held actual keys to the available rooms. “Make it on the west end,” Slade prompted. “I don’t want to wake up with the sun in my eyes.”
The clerk tossed a key onto the counter. “Clean sheets are over there.” He pointed to a row of shelves on the other side of the room. “Checkout time’s 10:00 a.m.”
“Thanks.” Slade picked up the key, then, keeping Maggie close, grabbed a stack of bed linens.
Outside, Slade opened the passenger-side door of the rental. “Hop in. We’ll park in front of the room.”
Maggie climbed in and Slade closed her door. He kept an eye on her as he rounded the hood. Those Irish genes of hers could kick in anytime now. Maintaining control was essential.
The view of their room and the sedan would be blocked by the tractor-trailers parked along the road at that end of the property. Any additional layers of security were welcome.
Once parked, Slade was out of the car first and at her side by the time she opened her door. He passed the linens to her, then ushered her to the trunk where he grabbed the one bag he’d brought along, a backpack. To her credit, she didn’t scream or try to run or even argue with him as he guided her to the room. She waited quietly as he unlocked the door and opened it. Just as quietly, she walked inside and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. The linens landed in a heap on the naked mattress.
The bare bulb glowing above their door was the only exterior light working on that end of the row of rooms. He unscrewed the bulb and took a final look around the parking lot. They seemed to be in the clear for now.
With the door secured, he checked the bathroom and closet, then placed his bag on the floor and shoved the key into his jacket pocket alongside her cell phone. He’d taken it as soon as they were far enough away from the explosion for her to work up the courage to try to use it without him noticing. He’d turned it off and removed the battery, just in case.
