Authors: Dee Davis
"Go on," she whispered. "I'm not sure I'd make it anyway."
"Nonsense. We'll get you to the safe room. You'll be fine."
"I think maybe I'm past that." She lifted her hand, revealing pulsing blood. "So go."
"I told you, I'm not going to leave you." He took her arm and draped it over his shoulder. "We'll do it together."
"Fine." She nodded, accepting his determination. "We'll go together. But I can make it on my own." In testament to her words, she summoned her strength, working herself to a kneeling position.
"Are you sure?" Reece asked, trying to ascertain if she was really up to the task.
"Absolutely. Remember I'm a CIA operative." She smiled, albeit weakly, and the kitchen exploded again with gunfire, this time from closer range. "It's now or never."
Reece counted to three and they launched themselves out into the kitchen. It was only as he reached the doorway and turned to help Marguerite that he realized she was no longer with him. Instead, she was acting as a decoy, standing up near the sink, bullets making her seem to dance.
He lurched forward, intent on reaching her, but Martin got to him first. "It's too late," his brother said. "Don't let her have done it for nothing."
Martin pulled him back, and they scrambled down the stairs just as the kitchen door slammed open, a final shot echoing through the kitchen.
Footsteps sounded above them as Martin pushed Reece through a metal door at the rear of the cellar. "In here. Hurry."
Reece made his way into the tiny room as Martin turned to slam the door against a hail of bullets. For the moment at least they were safe. But outside the killer was waiting.
And upstairs, their friend lay dying.
"ALL RIGHT, SO let's go over it one more time," Tate said, glancing at her from the passenger side of their newest car, a silver Jeep Cherokee.
"We've been over it three times already, Tate." Simone sucked in a breath and tightened her hands on the steering wheel. "We change cars a couple of times to be sure no one is following us, then snag a ride on a courier plane heading for Honduras. From there we meet up with a local operative and make our way into Nicaragua, find Isabella and take her out. It's not like I haven't done this before."
"Sleep on the wrong side of the bed, sunshine?" Tate teased.
"I slept fine, thank you. I just want to get this over and done with."
"So what, you can go back to your old life? I thought that was history?"
"It is...was... I don't know." Which pretty much summed up the problem. "I shouldn't have walked out without saying something. He'll think I don't care."
"No. He'll think you had your mind on business. Come on, Simone, I've met the guy, he's one focused dude. If he were the one heading out, like to a really important trial or something, would he be whining about forgetting to say goodbye?"
"That's not a fair comparison and you know it. He's not going to get killed while he's trying a case. We, on the other hand..." She trailed off, staring out at the road ahead of her.
"Hey, I was just trying to help." He held up his hands. "You're the testy one."
"I'm not testy. I just wish I'd said goodbye." She pictured Reece lying in bed, the rumpled sheets highlighting his nakedness.
"Honestly, Simone, you really have gone soft." His tone was light, but there was a note of rebuke there she couldn't ignore.
"Loving someone doesn't make you soft."
"Like hell. Just the idea of love can make a person lose his edge. And it's not worth it. Believe me."
"Sounds to me like you have firsthand knowledge of the subject."
"No. I don't." His denial was a little too glib to be totally ignored, but she didn't want to press it. "Anyway, we weren't talking about my love life, or lack thereof, we were talking about yours."
"Actually, we weren't talking about it either."
"Come on, Simone. If he's really worth it, he'll be there when we get back." Tate sounded almost angry, and she glanced over at him in surprise. "I'm sorry. It's just that we've got dead friends, and a killer on our ass, and all you can think about is your ex-husband. I'm a little worried about your priorities."
He was right. She'd almost lost sight of what was important. "What time do we have to be at the first rendezvous?"
Tate looked at his watch. "We've got about an hour."
"And we're about twenty miles away?"
"Something like that," he said, trying to follow the train of her thoughts. Which wasn't an easy thing to do, considering she wasn't sure exactly what she was thinking. All she knew was that she needed to see Reece. Needed to be sure things were right between them before she left. Or at least that he knew she'd be coming back.
She yanked the wheel, the Jeep screeching at the mistreatment.
"What the hell are you doing?" Tate bellowed.
"I'm prioritizing," she said, turning the car back the way they'd come. "And right now, my marriage is my first priority."
"Great. Just what I needed, a partner with relationship issues." His frown was genuine, but she could tell from his tone that he'd accepted the fact that she was going back regardless of what he thought.
Fortunately, they hadn't gone very far, so there wasn't much ground to cover. They pulled through the stone gate marking Marguerite's property and onto the gravel road that led to the house.
The fields outside seemed strangely quiet. So much so that Simone slowed the car and rolled down the window.
"What is it?" Tate asked, following suit with his own window.
"Not sure." Simone shook her head, silencing him. Marguerite's house stood just ahead, mica in the slate roof glittering in the sunshine. Nothing seemed out of place, and except for the slow crunch of gravel, there was no extraneous sound. But her senses were on alert. Carefully she steered the Jeep into the bushes by the side of the drive, killing the engine.
Moving as quietly as possible, she and Tate slid out of the car, Tate stopping to retrieve a rifle to supplement the handguns they already carried. Nodding toward the house, Simone motioned Tate to the left as she dashed across the gravel and into the bushes on the right side.
Together they made their way along what was left of the driveway and then split up as they reached the house, Tate taking the front and Simone moving toward the back. The sides of the house were shaded by birch and poplar trees, the accompanying shrubbery making access from this angle nearly impossible.
She moved as close to the house as she dared, the skin on her neck prickling at the sight of a shattered window. Unfortunately her perceptions had been dead-on. She swallowed a wave of fear, knowing that the only chance Martin and Reece had now was if she kept her wits about her. Sending a small prayer heavenward, she inched toward the back of the house, hoping that Tate had read the signs as well.
It was tempting to go back and be certain, but time was clearly not on their side, and until she knew if the killer was still on site she couldn't take the chance of wasting valuable seconds. The backyard was really no more than a small circle of cropped meadow grass surrounded by more trees.
The back door sat squarely in the center of the house, surrounded by a small covered porch. The screen door had been ripped off its hinges, the door itself hanging drunkenly from one hinge.
Not a good sign.
Keeping her back to the wall and her gun drawn, Simone slid against the stone siding until she reached the step leading up to the battered door. Giving herself a silent count of three, she swung out, leading with the Sig.
Nothing moved.
Carefully, she stepped up onto the porch and, after a fraction of a second, moved into the kitchen, back to the door, sweeping from left to right in a large circle. At first glance the room seemed to be empty, but then she looked down.
Marguerite's body sprawled across the floor, one hand thrown out as if she'd been waving. Simone choked on bile and swung back again, this time taking in every nook and cranny over the barrel of her gun. Certain that for the moment at least she was alone, she knelt beside her friend, feeling for a pulse.
But the effort was wasted.
Marguerite was dead.
*****
"WHAT CAN YOU SEE?" Martin asked, pushing Reece to the side so that he had a better view of the monitor.
The panic roomed was well equipped. Guns, provisions, all the latest gadgets, including a monitor that switched between views of the various rooms in Marguerite's house, as well as a couple of outside shots. So far they'd yielded nothing. But Reece was pretty damn certain the killer was still present. It was just a matter of finding him.
"Still nothing," he said, glancing over at his brother. "I'm going to switch to the outside view again. Maybe he's given up."
"No way," Martin said, agreeing with Reece's assessment. "He's out there."
Reece switched the camera view to the front of the house, panning first across the yard and then widening the shot to include most the drive. He scanned the video, rejected it for showing him nothing and was about to move to the next camera when Martin's hand shot out, touching the screen in the upper left corner.
"There. You see that?"
Reece moved closer to the monitor, shaking his head. "What do you see?"
"That sparkle, there. See?" He pointed again. "That's sun against metal. Can you move closer?"
Reece examined the control panel and then slid a lever upward. The camera zoomed in closer, the grainy detail revealing the right bumper of a car, as well as a part of the grill. The rest was obscured by the scrub that lined the driveway.
"It's a car." Martin frowned at the screen. "You think it's the killer's?"
Reece pushed the lever all the way up, the picture blurring for a moment and then coming clear. The word
Jeep
, was unmistakable. "Damn it."
"What?" Martin grabbed Reece's arm, searching his face.
"Tate and Simone were driving a silver Jeep."
The words hung between them for several long minutes, then, galvanized into action, Reece switched the camera view again. The front of the house filled the screen, the angle indicating the camera was somewhere in the eaves. Below, he could see the front porch. Movement to the left prompted him to zoom in.
Tate.
The man was moving cautiously, keeping to a group of fruit trees that edged the front yard. He was watching the house, carefully making his way closer.
"Where's Simone?" Martin asked, his voice filled with anxiety. "Do you see her?"
"She's not with Tate," Reece said, switching the camera again. The living room came into view. Empty. And then the upstairs bedrooms, one by one. Again all empty.
Reece pressed another button and a view of the kitchen sprang to the monitor. At first it seemed to be empty, and then Simone's back popped into the picture.
"She must have been kneeling beside Marguerite." Martin moved closer to the monitor as if maybe by doing so she'd see him. "Do you think..."
Reece shook his head. He'd seen Marguerite. There was no way she'd survived.
"Is there some kind of sound system? Can you tell her we're here?"
"No. I looked. There's a wireless system on the wall over there. But it won't work unless there's someone on the outside wearing the headphones."
"So then we'll just go out there. She's probably worried sick." Martin had already turned for the door.
"Wait." Reece held up his hand, and his brother returned to the console. "Look at that." He pointed to what looked like a shadow in the doorway. Flipping the cameras again, he pulled up the dining room. The shadow took shape.
The back of a man. A man holding a gun.
He clearly hadn't seen Simone yet, but he was on guard, which meant he was probably aware of her presence. It wouldn't be long before he found her.
"I've got to get up there." Reece reached out for one of the guns on the wall, checking the magazine to be certain it was loaded.
"Take the headset," Martin said, flipping it to his brother. "Can you hear me?"
Reece held the earpiece to his ear and nodded. "Unlock the door. And then the minute I'm outside you shut it again. You understand? As long as you stay in here, you'll be safe."
Martin looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he nodded, his eyes telegraphing his concern. "Be careful, Reece."
"Always."
The door slid open and Reece slipped through, satisfied to hear it closing again behind him. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made himself stop when he reached the top, back against the wall.
From this vantage point he could just see Simone's shoulder and arm as she ducked down once more, possibly to check on Marguerite. "Can you see her? What's she doing?" He whispered into the headset.
Immediately it crackled with life. "She's back down by Marguerite. I can't really see anything."
"What about the intruder? He still in the dining room?"
"Yes," Martin answered, his voice sounding tinny. "He's coming your way."
Reece debated the wisdom of trying to reach Simone before the killer. And decided, considering trajectory, he was better off staying put. With a little luck, he'd be able to intercept the guy before he got to Simone.
A voice in his head reminded him that she was probably far better prepared to take the guy on than he was. All of which meant that maintaining position was the best way to go. Simone straightened up, her back still to him as she reached over to the counter to pick up a bullet frag.
A sound from the dining room had her spinning around, and she took a step forward, her gun trained on the door.
The killer drew back, and Reece fought against the impulse to call out a warning. Better to keep his position unannounced.
Simone waited, and then hearing nothing else, relaxed her stance slightly, moving toward the hallway leading to the living room. Probably looking for Tate.
"You see Tate?" Reece whispered into the microphone.
"Not yet. He's left the front. Maybe he's in the entry hall. There's not a camera there."
Reinforcements on the way. Reece released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Simone stepped into the hallway just as a shot rang out. Their assailant stepped into the kitchen, crouching to avoid Simone's return fire as she pivoted back toward the dining room. Not waiting for any further invitation, Reece burst into the room, his gun pointed at the killer.
"Take one more step and I'll blow your head off."
The man froze but didn't drop his gun. Simone, however, had no such reaction. In one swift move she rolled off the floor and hit the killer's gun hand, sending his gun spinning across the kitchen floor. Then, moving back, she pointed her gun at the man, as well, shooting a quick triumphant glance in Reece's direction.