Packing Heat (7 page)

“She looks like Snow White’s evil stepmother,” Harmony said under her breath.

“Y’all need a ride?” the woman called out.

“No—”

“Yes,” Cole overrode Harmony. He wrapped an arm around her waist and propelled her to the car, stuffing her into the backseat before she could object again. He’d intended to take the front passenger seat until he realized it was already occupied. He slid in beside Harmony instead.

Harmony poked him. Cole ignored her, busy making eye contact with the woman behind the wheel.

“Where y’all headed?” she asked, her voice deep and slow, her gaze mesmerizing. A visual invitation.

“Cleveland,” Cole said without giving it any real thought.

Harmony elbowed him in the ribs. He hissed in a breath and fielded the look she shot him. Definitely not happy about something, he deduced, but at least she was keeping the disagreement to herself. He was in for it when she got him alone, though.

“Y’all have names?” the woman in the front seat asked in a slow, husky, Deep South drawl.

“Janet and Dick,” Harmony said before Cole could make that decision, too. Cole suspected she’d given him that name for a reason. “How about you?”

“You can call me Irene. This is my brother, Leo.”

Cole took his first good look at the guy in the front seat, and thought,
Brother, my ass
. Irene was supermodel material. Leo belonged in a circus sideshow: no neck, shoulders up around his ears. His body consisted of roll on top of roll, starting with his three chins and ending with the spare tire in his lap. Leo looked like a seven-footer accordioned down to troll size. On top of which he had hands the size of dinner plates, a hairline so low it blended in with his unibrow, and several personalities, at least one of which he was conversing with in a constant under-the-breath mutter that began to rise in volume.

“Leo!” Irene snapped out before he got to an audible level.

Leo had what appeared to be a minor seizure, and subsided into his seat, silent but staring daggers at Irene. Not someone he’d like to meet in a dark hallway, Cole thought. Leo was scary. Cole didn’t want to know how Irene was keeping him in line, but he had to give her credit.

“He has these outbursts,” Irene said. “He’s really not a bad person.” And she put Moby in gear and they floated out into traffic, her eyes meeting Cole’s again in the rearview mirror. “Y’all been together long?” she asked him.

“It feels like forever,” Cole said.

“Oh, honey.” Harmony slipped her arm through his and snuggled up to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

Cole understood it was just an act—mentally. Physically he went into full-on, heart-thumping, white-hot hormonal overload. Some soft part of her was pressing against his arm, there was a bunch of really nice-smelling blond hair tickling his chin, and he could feel her hands shaking. Either she was royally pissed off, or she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended to be.

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Irene asked.

Harmony lifted her gaze, narrowed, to his. Cole grinned down at her.

“Everything’s fine,” she said with a bright, sunny, completely believable smile. Whatever Dick’s investment in their fictional “relationship,” Janet was clearly living in a shiny, pink heart-shaped bubble of love-conquers-all.

“So, Cleveland, huh?”

“I know, right?” Harmony said. “Who lives in Cleveland? I mean, Ohio, what’s up with that? We broke down and we couldn’t even get a cell phone signal.”

“We’re still in Pennsylvania,” Cole pointed out.

“Huh, Pennsylvania. Don’t even get me started. Did you know there are people here who don’t believe in electricity?”

“Cleveland?” Irene prompted.

“His parents live there,” Harmony said, making it sound vaguely accusatory. “You can drop us at the nearest bus stop and we’ll take it from there.”

Irene waved off that notion. “Gotta go right by there,” she said. “Y’all just set back and enjoy the ride.”

Cole was prepared to do just that. He hadn’t slept much the night before, for the same reason he couldn’t relax now. He pried Harmony off, told his hormones to heel, and slouched down in his seat, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest.

Unfortunately, Irene kept asking questions. And Harmony kept answering them.

“How did you meet?” Irene wanted to know. “No offense, but y’all don’t exactly seem . . . He’s . . . And you’re . . .”

“Oh, I know, but Dick didn’t used to look all”—Harmony fluttered a hand in the air—“muscular. He used to be, like, sensitive. We met in college. I was pledging this sorority because, well, they needed me. I mean, those girls were totally clueless when it came to makeup and clothes. It was like they thought sororities were all about academics or something.

“Anyway,” she continued, ignoring the part where Irene wanted to get a word in edgewise. Leo kept up a constant low-key mutter. Everyone ignored him.

“I went to this frat party with Tommy Morrison,” Harmony was saying. “He turned out to be a complete loser. Why do men think they’re Tom Cruise in a white naval uniform when they get drunk? Like I’m going to be all hot for some guy who will either throw up or pass out halfway through, you know?”

“I kn—”

“So there I was, like, stuck at the frat house with a bunch of drunk Casanovas, and there Dick was. He was a grad student at the time, and he didn’t look like this, either. He looked smart.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Just between you and me, he was kind of a geek, you know, crazy smart but a little flabby and pasty. He was like this big, clumsy puppy you can’t help but love. He gave me a ride home and that was it for me. I think we’ll be together for a really long time.”

“What do you think, Dick?”

“He’s asleep,” Harmony said. “He does that all the time. I just remember where I left off and pick up the conversation when he wakes up. We’re going to visit his parents, and I’m kind of hoping it’s a sign. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“You’re what, twenty-five?”

“I don’t want to be one of those forty-year-old moms. I want to have kids and still look good. I want to be a MILF.”

“MILF,” Leo shouted.

Irene reached over and gave him a shot to the arm, which Cole saw because he’d given up trying to sleep, and not just because of the constant chatter. Harmony was up to something, and he felt a need to keep his eye on her.

Leo was back to muttering, Harmony was back to talking, and Irene’s foot seemed to be getting heavier on the gas pedal. Irene wanted to get to Cleveland bad.

Cole couldn’t blame her. Harmony managed to talk the entire four hours without stopping.

“You can drop us off here,” Cole said to Irene as soon as he saw the WELCOME To CLEVELAND sign.

Irene took the first exit ramp, barely slowing down long enough for them to jump out at the first intersection. As soon as Cole’s feet hit pavement, she peeled off, back door still hanging open, leaving an inch of rubber on the pavement.

“I think Irene is happy to hear the last of you,” Cole said.

“Irene could have let us off any time she wanted.”

“She didn’t have much use for you, but she liked me.”

“Everything female within view likes you. And hey, at least that one was human. I think.”

Cole gave her a look, but he wasn’t all that insulted.

“We should get moving before Boris and Natasha come back.”

“Boris and Natasha? Irene had a Southern accent.”

“Southern accent, my aunt Fanny. They were Russian.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“If you’d been paying attention instead of thinking with your hormones, you’d know I was right.”

“Jealous?”

“Puh-lease. If I wanted you, I could have you.”

That was true. And annoying. He took off, keeping his strides purposefully long so Harmony had to trot to keep up. But walking away in a snit wasn’t going to keep him out of jail. Neither was the FBI. The only protection he had was knowledge. “How do you know they were Russian?” he asked grudgingly.

“A Russian accent is hard to lose completely unless you mask it with another accent. Southern is the strongest.”

Cole thought about that a minute, tried to replay some of Irene’s conversation in his head, which wasn’t easy since all he could remember was Harmony talking incessantly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“And let them know I was on to them? We were stuck in the backseat of their car going ninety on the highway.”

“Jumping off a moving train was enough fun for one day, huh?”

“I didn’t jump,” she reminded him. “And it wasn’t fun.”

“I wasn’t thinking about the exit. I was thinking about the landing.”

“I prefer the part after the landing.”

Cole knew she was talking about flipping him into the muck, but he was thinking about being on top of her. Okay, he wasn’t really thinking, and if he didn’t get a grip he wouldn’t be walking either, at least not without limping. He could just imagine how smug Harmony would be then.

“I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” he said. “Just because they’re Russian doesn’t mean they’re working with the kidnappers. And even if they were, they must’ve known who you were when they picked us up, so what’s the point of channeling Paris Hilton on speed?”

“They didn’t know that we knew, and she wasn’t being honest with us, so she deserved it.”

“They’re criminals. And you didn’t tell her the truth, either.”

“I didn’t tell her anything.”

“Despite four hours of constant chatter, which is quite an accomplishment.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Harmony jogged up next to him, puffing a little.

Cole took pity, shortening his stride and hefting her duffel.

“She was trying to get information from us. Where we were going and why. How long we’d been together.” Harmony snorted. “She
really
wanted to know who you were and how much you knew.”

“She didn’t want to tip her hand, and she didn’t want a confrontation,” Cole finished, seeing it plain as day now that Harmony had pointed him in the right direction. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” And she looked worried—for all of ten seconds before the optimist surfaced again. “Once I realized they weren’t going to strong-arm us, I needed a way to control the conversation. Everyone looks at me and sees a dumb blonde, so I went with it.” She shrugged, not the least embarrassed. “And it was fun.”

“You said ‘like’ nine hundred and sixty-three times. I counted.”

“You were asleep.”

“Who could sleep?”

She grinned up at him. “If it makes you feel any better, I gave myself a headache.”

“Which is the reason Irene asked all those questions about who I was and how long we’d been together. Why didn’t you just tell her the truth? That I’m here to move the money.”

“They’re the enemy. The less they know about our plans, the better.”

Cole took his customary pause to digest what he’d learned. She was really beginning to hate that pause. He always came out of it with a question she didn’t want him asking.

“Why didn’t they just kidnap you and force you to get the money for them?”

“I’m already doing what they want. They don’t gain anything by grabbing me. And they could blow their whole game. If the FBI lost another agent, they might decide there was more than greed going on and get involved. They were just keeping tabs on me.”

“On us, you mean.”

Exactly, and that was the part that worried her.

“What about—”

“Can we save the rest of the postmortem? At least until I get some painkillers, a shower, a meal, and a bed, in that order.” She wasn’t kidding about the headache. Her jaw ached, too. She had a new respect for those vapid, posturing celebutantes. Doing nothing was exhausting.

A couple miles off the highway they came across one of those travel motels where each room had an outside entrance. Harmony went into the office and got a room in the back. Cheap, clean, two beds, one of which she collapsed onto as soon as they got inside.

Cole wasn’t on the same page. Cole was getting his second wind, and it was blowing in from skeptic land. “Cops, feds, now Russians,” he said. “This thing isn’t going to happen if you don’t get the pressure off long enough for me to work.”

Harmony cracked one eye open. “How do you expect me to do that?”

Cole shrugged. “You’re the one with the contacts.”

In other words, he was calling her bluff, and she had no choice but to make good on her big talk. She shoved herself upright and reached for her duffel, stifling a groan when her head pounded in protest. She had her FBI-issue cell phone, and a second disposable one she’d bought because it was untraceable. She pulled out the second phone, taking a deep breath as she punched in her handler’s number. She’d been dreading this moment, but it had to be done.

Mike Kovaleski answered the phone by growling “Yeah,” which was polite for him.

“Hey, Mike,” she said, “it’s Harmony,” and then she waited for him to ask her what the hell she was doing.

Instead he said, “Kind of late for work, aren’t you? Like thirty-six hours late,” sounding like he had absolutely no clue she’d gone rogue.

Mike was damn good at playing a role, but he had no reason to pretend he was in the dark on her extracurricular activities. Just the opposite, in fact. He was her handler; her actions reflected directly on him. If he’d been questioned about her activities, he’d have sent more than a pair of agents that included a novice.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” she said, keeping her voice light, teasing, and giving up any attempt to puzzle out the mystery. Keeping Mike ignorant was more important at the moment than figuring out why no one had asked him about her in the first place.

“Who said I was worried? You haven’t missed a day of work in five years. I knew you’d call in eventually.”

She covered the phone and said to Cole, “FBI ears only,” and took the conversation to the other side of the room, lowering her voice. “Nice to know I’m so predictable,” she said into the phone.

“You’re upset about Swendahl,” Mike said, sounding like a shrug went along with the observation.

Harmony took a second to absorb that—not that she should’ve expected him to react any other way. He’d always told her she was too sensitive to be a field agent. Disappearing because she was all broken up about Richard was exactly what Mike would expect her to do. Still, it stung to be written off to emotional paralysis when she was doing what no one else at the Bureau had the guts to do.

“I don’t agree with the Bureau’s policy, but I understand it,” she said, swallowing her pride. “I just need a few days to get my head around it.”

“Your number came up as not available on caller ID.”

“I’m at my aunt’s house in the Poconos. No cell towers.”

Mike didn’t say anything, but his silence felt skeptical.

“I haven’t taken a vacation, ever,” she reminded him. “It’s not like the copyright pirates are going to blow up the world if I’m not around to enforce the FBI warning for a little while.”

“I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I was thinking.”

“That’s what worries me,” she said, only half in jest. “Anything . . . interesting going on?”

“Besides Swendahl? Nope. Why, what did you hear?”

“I caught the tail end of the news when I was driving through Pennsylvania. Sounded like something happened there.”

“Pennsylvania’s a big black hole as far as I know.”

“Okay. Has . . . is anything being done?”

“Nope. It’s been quiet all around. I’m finally writing that novel.” There was silence for a couple beats, then, “I’ll see you in a week.”

“Or two.”

“Two?”

“I came up here to relax and see the trees change. You never know when peak color will hit.”

“Swift—”

“Bye, Mike.”

“Well?” Cole said the second she disconnected. “Did you ask him about me?”

“I didn’t have to. He’d have mentioned you if you were on the radar.”

“I’m a federal prisoner. Shouldn’t the FBI be looking for me?”

She bumped up a shoulder, as flummoxed as Cole was. First Mike didn’t know about her freelance activities, now he had no idea there was an escaped felon in Pennsylvania? “Either they’re keeping your escape really quiet, or they’re not talking about it at all.”

And as puzzling as it was from an FBI standpoint, it answered a couple of questions about Irene and Leo. They must have followed her from D.C. to Lewisburg, with no intention of interfering as long as she did what they wanted. And then she hooked up with Cole, but since the FBI wasn’t releasing the news of his escape, the Russians had no way of knowing who he was and why she’d gone out of her way to pick him up. As long as he remained a mystery man he was safe. Losing Irene would only be added insurance, but she’d make that a priority anyway.

“They sent feds after us. And cops.”

“The Pennsylvania cops aren’t a problem anymore, now that we’re in Ohio.”

“What about your coworkers?”

“They’re not a problem anymore, either,” she said, knowing Cole would take it to mean they’d been called off.

In truth, she found it troubling that Mike hadn’t heard anything about the jailbreak at Lewisburg. The handlers were only supposed to know about their own cases, but Mike had a way of nosing out trouble, whether or not it involved his unit. He always said the Bureau’s practice of compartmentalizing was incompatible with his ability to do his job properly. If Mike didn’t know about Cole then Cole was really off the grid, and if that was the case, then why?

She glanced over at the convict in question and wondered. There were only a couple reasons to keep a prison escape quiet. For instance, if the guy was so dangerous they didn’t want to alarm the public unnecessarily. Cole wasn’t a mass murderer or a serial killer. He hadn’t done anything violent. He’d hacked into the government’s computer system—not an easy feat, but hardly threatening to the average American going about his daily business. Terrorist organizations, now, they might be interested in Cole, which was a hell of a reason to keep his freedom a secret. Access to the FBI’s files would be priceless to anyone who hated America.

Of course, the FBI’s computer system had been overhauled since Cole’s incarceration. New security had been installed, supposedly hack-proof security, but nothing was perfect. In her two years at the agency going after computer criminals, Harmony had learned a lot about tracking and hacking, but she wasn’t good enough to break into the FBI’s banking system, and money was her only leverage with the kidnappers.

“What’s going on in there?” Cole said, tapping a finger on her temple.

She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. Not good. She needed to stay sharp and focused, even around Cole. The authorities outside of Pennsylvania didn’t know he’d escaped. As long as it stayed that way she probably had nothing to worry about. But there was no point taking chances.

“All we have to do is keep our heads down and do what needs to be done,” she said, “and this will all be over.”

Cole smiled grimly. “That’s what worries me.”