Tell Me No Spies (12 page)

I sneaked across the
yard, hugging the fence, and finally stood beside the bike, panting
shallowly. Oh, God, I didn’t think I could do this.

I jittered there for a
moment, trying to screw up some courage. Jeez, suck it up, woman!
I’d faced down captivity, torture, and death. Surely I could manage
to steal one lousy bike.

But I hadn’t been
committing a crime with the other stuff. This was against the
law.

A dog barked a couple
of doors down, and I twitched in the shadows. Goddammit, just do it
already!

I offered a silent
prayer for forgiveness to whoever might be listening, and quickly
wheeled the bike out to the back alley. Then I leaped on and
pedalled wildly, leaving the barking dog far behind.

I soon discovered a
bike path and shot down it, slamming on the brakes when I realized
it was pitch dark down there. Another serious flaw in my plan. I’d
hoped to use the network of bike paths, but they were unlit. I
couldn’t see enough to ride safely.

Sweating and
trembling, I got off the bike and leaned against the fence until my
heart rate stabilized. Then I turned the bike around and began to
pedal the long miles through the quiet streets toward the
highway.

It was still dark by
six AM. For the last several miles, I’d been fantasizing about
dispatching the designer of the bicycle seat to an eternal hell
astride a dull carving knife. My butt was screaming agony by the
time I finally pulled up beside the highway on the west side of
town.

I was shaking with
fatigue, hunger, and the knowledge that in a couple of hours, maybe
less, Kane would discover I was gone. I had hoped to be out of the
city by now.

I didn’t even dare go
into a gas station or convenience store for a snack. Surely he’d
have no way of finding out I’d been there, but I couldn’t bring
myself to enter a well-lit public place where there might be
surveillance cameras.

I leaned the bicycle
up against a streetlight and limped away, resisting the urge to
publicly massage my aching ass. Westbound traffic was already
picking up, and I scanned it for police cars before sticking out my
thumb.

To my surprise, a car
stopped almost immediately. The passenger window hummed open, and I
leaned in to survey the ordinary-looking middle-aged driver.

He gave me a friendly
smile. “Where are you headed?”

I hesitated. “Banff,”
I lied.

“Well, I’m only going
to Cochrane, but I can take you to the truck stop at the
turnoff.”

“Thanks!”

I hopped in. The
Cochrane turnoff was only about twenty miles out of town, but at
least it got me beyond the city limits. And if I could catch a ride
with a long-haul trucker from there, it would make for an easy
trip.

The driver glanced
over as we reached highway speed. “What’s in Banff?”

“Um… Just some
friends.”

He frowned over at me.
“Hitchhiking’s a pretty dangerous way to get there.”

“I know.”

I sent a psychic
message in his direction. Shut up, buddy.

No such luck.

“Don’t you have
anybody to take you?” he persisted.

“No.”

“Nobody’s going to
miss you?”

“Um…” I wasn’t sure I
liked the sound of that question. “No.”

“Are you a working
girl?”

I didn’t like the
phrasing of that, either. “No.”

“What do you do for a
living?”

Jesus, buddy, shut the
fuck up. I ignored the question and gazed out the window
instead.

“What’s your
name?”

“Um… Jane.”

“Nice to meet you,
Jane, I’m Ron.”

“Hi, Ron.”

Thank God I only had
to go a few more miles with this guy. My head pounded and fine
tremors of nervousness and fatigue coursed through my body.

“Are you hungry,
Jane?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“If you come with me
to Cochrane, I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll get you
something nice. You shouldn’t travel on an empty stomach.”

Back off, buddy, for
chrissakes!

I held my voice calm
and level. “I’ll get something at the truck stop. Thanks
anyway.”

His left hand slipped
down beside his seat, and I tensed. What the hell was he doing?

“Are you in some kind
of trouble, Jane?”

“No.” I watched him
out of the corner of my eye, ready to react. Adrenaline pumped
through my body.

“I can help if you
are.”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.
Actually, why don’t you just let me out here.”

He frowned. “We’re not
there yet.”

“I know. I… I’ve
changed my mind. I’m going to go back to the city. Stop and let me
out, please.”

He slowed the car,
still groping down by his left side. I abandoned all pretence of
casual conversation and watched him overtly. He smiled as he pulled
over and stopped, and I reached for the door handle. The door
wouldn’t open. Goddamn electric door locks!

I scrabbled at the
unfamiliar door panel, searching for the button.

“Wait. Not so fast,”
he said.

I made a grab for my
gun as his left hand appeared, holding a black object.

At the last second I
aborted the movement when I realized what he was holding.

“Take this, Jane. Read
it. If you’re in trouble, if you feel alone in the world, remember
that Jesus loves you.” He handed me a small Bible, and I smothered
a spurt of hysterical laughter. “You’re never alone when you have
Jesus,” he added kindly.

“Uh, thanks.” I
located the door lock at last and tumbled out of the car,
trembling.

He lifted a hand in
farewell and pulled away. I stared at the Bible in my hand and
started to laugh helplessly, half sobbing while I braced my elbows
on my shaking knees. Jesus Christ.

Literally.

My ass hurt like a
bitch, it had taken me all goddamn night to get ten miles out of
town, and I was starving, exhausted, and scared shitless. And I had
a Glock and a Bible.

Hell, what could
possibly go wrong?

I straightened and
eyed the Bible uncertainly. I almost left it in the ditch, but I
love books too much to abuse them. Besides, it seemed
disrespectful. I sighed and stuffed it into my backpack
instead.

The sky was
brightening, and I stumbled along beside the road, trying to force
my burnt-out brain to come up with a plan. I needed a more
convincing story. Sooner or later, I’d have to admit to somebody
that I was headed for the west coast.

Vehicles rocketed by,
buffeting me with their slipstream. I briefly considered walking to
the truck stop, but I didn’t think I could manage ten miles. A wave
of fear washed over me when a black SUV appeared, but it didn’t
slow as it passed me.

At last, I spotted an
approaching tractor-trailer unit and stuck out my thumb. It
barrelled past me without slowing, and I seriously considered
relocating my gun back to the ankle holster so I could take off my
sweatshirt and show some cleavage despite the chill. I needed a
ride, pronto.

I was still thinking,
walking backward with my thumb extended, when another semi appeared
on the horizon. I put on a smile and waved as it drew closer.

This time, the big
diesel snorted and grumbled as the driver downshifted, and the rig
pulled to a stop a couple of hundred yards past me. The air brakes
hissed as I trotted up.

The passenger door
opened, and the driver leaned out. “Where’re you headed?”

“West coast.”

“Your lucky day.” He
pushed the door open, and I clambered up.

We appraised each
other as I settled into the passenger seat. He was middle-aged and
out of shape, with a generous gut straining a slightly
grubby-looking T-shirt. A rip in the shirt revealed a
pasty-skinned, hairy belly. Baggy, faded jeans riding too low.
Lucky he was sitting down. He’d have a bad case of plumber’s butt
for sure. Untidy waves made his too-long grizzled hair stick out at
odd angles, and a few days worth of grey stubble adorned his face.
The cab smelled faintly of onions, or possibly body odour.

His pale blue eyes
travelled over my face, politely stopping around chin-level. I must
have passed muster, because he smiled and stuck out his hand. “Dave
Shore.”

“Hi, Dave, nice to
meet you. I’m Jane.” I shook his hand, and he turned his attention
back to the road, winding up through the gears.

After a few miles, I
was just starting to relax when he glanced over and spoke as he
began to downshift. “Stopping for breakfast. You coming in?”

Shit. The tension
slammed back into my muscles. I was doomed to travel this friggin’
highway ten miles at a time. I couldn’t suppress a jerky glance at
my watch. Eight o’clock. Kane would have waited all night outside
Dante’s place. Right about now, he’d be finding out I was gone.

For the first time, I
seriously considered what he’d do. He’d be furious. And he’d be in
a lot of trouble with Stemp. If I didn’t get to talk to Aunt Minnie
before Kane found me, I’d never get another chance. I found myself
leaning over to peer in the side mirror, watching for a black SUV.
No, that was stupid. He wouldn’t pick up my trail that quickly.

“Jane?”

I started and turned
to meet Dave’s faded eyes. “Sorry. Um… If I give you some money,
can you grab me something?”

He turned his
attention back to the rig as we pulled to a halt outside the truck
stop. The air brakes hissed, and he turned to study me, his unkempt
eyebrows drawn together. “You got a reason?”

“I, uh, I just… don’t
want to be seen.”

“You running from the
cops?”

“No!” The word jerked
out of me with guilty emphasis as I remembered the stolen
bicycle.

“What then?”

“Listen, Dave, never
mind. I’m not hungry. I’ll just wait for you.”

“Bull. You talk now,
or you get outta my truck.”

I bit back tears of
stress and fatigue as I swiped shaking hands over my face. I refuse
to cry in public, dammit. “Dave, please.” I swallowed hard to get
rid of the quaver in my voice. “Look, just…”

He shrugged. “Your
choice. Get out.”

“I’m running from my
ex-boyfriend,” I blurted. Closest thing to the truth I could
manage. Our friendship had been a lie, and any trust we’d had for
each other was shattered beyond repair now. I sank my head into my
hands with a groan. “God, he’s going to kill me.”

“What?”

I looked up at Dave’s
wide eyes, my sleep-deprived brain replaying my words. I hadn’t
meant that literally, although an ugly chill shook me when I
thought it through. There might be more truth to that statement
than I knew.

I went with it. “If he
finds me, he’ll kill me. I’ve been up all night, trying to get on
the highway without being seen.” This time I didn’t try to hide the
tremor in my voice. “When he finds out I’m gone, he’ll come after
me, and I’m only twenty miles out of town. I can’t let anybody see
me.”

“You better not be
lying.”

I clasped my trembling
hands. “I’m dead serious.”

“Why don’t you call
the cops?”

“What are they going
to do? By the time they can do anything, I’ll already be dead.”

He examined my face at
length, his eyes boring into mine. Then he eyed my shaking hands
and my small backpack, and gave a single nod as if coming to a
decision.

“Okay.”

Relief flooded me.
“Thank you,” I stammered as I fumbled into my wallet for a
twenty.

“What do you
want?”

“I don’t care. I’ll
eat anything.”

He paused, one hand on
the door handle. “If you want, you can go in the sleeper so nobody
sees you sitting here.” He gestured to the alcove behind the
seats.

“Thank you,” I
repeated. My trembling knees almost gave way as I stood, and I
caught myself on the back of the seat.

“You okay?” I thought
I saw a flash of concern on his face.

“Fine. Just tired and
hungry.”

He shook his head, and
I barely heard his mutter as he opened the door to climb out. “I
must be nuts.”

Through a sliver of
view from the sleeper, I watched him stump across the parking lot
with the stiff gait of a man who suffers from chronic lower-back
pain. He turned once to survey the truck with a frown before
turning away and hitching up his jeans to mercifully hide a truly
nasty butt-crack. I slumped on the tiny bench seat in the sleeper,
gratitude swelling in my heart. He was possibly the most beautiful
man I’d ever seen.

Seconds later, I
jerked awake at the movement of the cab and the sound of the door.
I must have looked panic-stricken, because Dave made a hasty
gesture with one of the brown paper bags he held. “It’s okay. Just
me. Breakfast.”

I blew out a breath
and relaxed. “Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Guess you need it,”
he said gruffly. “Here. Eat this and then catch some zees.” He
handed me the bag and my change, and I slid into the passenger seat
again.

The aroma of hot
grease embraced me when I opened the bag, and I swallowed hard to
control the flood of saliva. I tore into the breakfast sandwich,
gulping the spicy, greasy sausage, egg and cheese, hands shaking.
By the time I got to the cardboard package of home fries the truck
was in motion, and I finally spared a glance at Dave. “Thanks. This
is delicious,” I mumbled through a mouthful.

“No problem.” He
glanced over. “You were starving.”

“Yeah.”

His brows drew
together again, and I braced myself for more questions. Instead, he
said, “Didn’t know how you like your coffee. Brought you some cream
and sugar. Got decaf ‘cause I figured you’d need to sleep.”

I almost never drank
coffee, but his thoughtfulness touched me. “Thanks,” I repeated.
“That’s perfect.” And when I sipped the hot, bitter liquid, it cut
through the remainder of the grease and warmed me through. It
really was perfect.