CHAPTER TWELVE
Fort Worth, TX
Tuesday, 5:45 p.m.
VALERIE WELCOMED SCOTT’S LIPS LIKE a parched desert flower welcomes the rain. The kiss instantly turned deep and hungry. She laced her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer as she explored his eager mouth, the rough slide of their tongues hurling delicious shivers down her spine.
His eager touch set her on fire as the sounds and sights of the cold night faded away. She never wanted to leave the protective cover of the broad oaks with their twisted branches and wide boughs. Never wanted to leave Scott’s warm embrace.
“What. The. Fuck?” Alan’s angry voice shattered the moment.
She jerked her head back, breaking the kiss. How could she have forgotten about Alan? She tried to pull out of Scott’s arms, but he held tight, every muscle in his body rigid as he looked over her head at the other man. Scott’s unreadable expression had returned, but his thumb still traced a slow, thrill-inducing sweep along her waistline.
“I tell you he murdered his father and you start making out with him?” Alan said to her back, his voice angry and hurt and incredulous.
A shadow crossed Scott’s face, but he showed no reaction to Alan’s taunts other than the tightening of his jaw.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
Without taking his gaze off Alan, he loosened his hold.
She reluctantly left the warm, protective circle of Scott’s arms and turned to her old friend, her chest tight. “He’s not a murderer.”
Alan put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “The law says otherwise.”
“You want to talk about the law?” She almost laughed.
Alan’s expression was like a thundercloud during a summer monsoon, dark and scary and wild. He glanced at Scott and then returned his gaze to her. “He’s a trained killer, Valerie. For all we know you’re his next target.”
Shaking her head, she said, “That doesn’t make sense. He’s done nothing but protect me, even as this whole mess has upended his life.” She could sense Scott behind her, motionless and radiating frustration and anger, letting her handle this on her own, but there if she needed him.
She loved him for that.
Her thoughts tripped. No, no, no. She loved that about him. She couldn’t—
“What about what I’ve done?” Alan asked. “I’ve been protecting you for years. I still am.”
“I know.” She forced herself to lower her voice. The last thing they needed was to draw attention. “I’ve never doubted your intentions. I’m just asking you to trust Scott’s.”
“I can’t do that,” he said quietly. “Especially now that I know the truth about him.” He closed the gap between them and gripped her shoulders. “I think you should stay with me.”
Behind her Scott shifted, but didn’t interfere.
“I need to get to D.C.,” she said. “The sooner the better.”
“You don’t even know who’ll be on the plane. It could be Duncan’s men, or…worse. Come with me instead. We’ll figure out way to get you there. Hell, I’ll blow off my client and drive you myself.”
“Please don’t.” She stepped aside, dislodging his hands. “Don’t make me choose between you.”
He scowled and crossed his arms. “I think you just did.”
“Alan.”
“Forget it.” He turned and strode toward his car. “Let’s go.”
Scott ate his tacos in the car in silence. Alan and Valerie did the same, the tension between the three of them as thick as the guacamole on his flimsy plate.
After their latest kiss, Scott could hardly take his eyes off Valerie. He enjoyed watching her eat, especially when she licked hot sauce from her fingers…
Turning his attention away from temptation, he scanned the strip mall located down the street from the taco joint where they had parked for more privacy.
“We have an hour to kill until you have to be there,” Alan said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What do you want to do until then?”
“Recon,” Scott said, even though Alan had addressed the question to Valerie. With this situation, they were on Scott’s turf. Finally, an opportunity for him to contribute. “We need time to look around and ensure that we don’t get ambushed.”
“How would anyone know to look for us here?” Valerie asked.
He shrugged. “You’re the expert on that. It’s unlikely, but we have the time to take precautions. Let’s do it right.”
Alan’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and started the engine. As he drove the dark road on the outskirts of Fort Worth, Scott squinted into the night at the streetlights stationed like sentries along the curving road of the small neighborhood. The airstrip was lined on one side by massive two-story homes, each sporting a hangar in the backyard on the edge of the runway. Being small and private, the airfield didn’t require its own air traffic control tower and didn’t have a TSA security presence.
It was the pilot’s equivalent of an avid boater living on a lake. A pretty sweet setup. The residents were likely to notice a plane essentially doing a touch-and-go, but hopefully no one would look too closely.
Scott peered through the windows, but he couldn’t see much. “I’d kill for NVGs right about now,” he muttered.
“NVGs?” Valerie asked from her spot up front. The faint glow from the dashboard threw shadows across the angles of her face.
“Night vision goggles.”
“That would be helpful.” She focused on the scenery. “What are we looking for?”
“Mostly right now, I’m trying to get a baseline for the area so we’ll notice if something changes. But keep an eye out for cars parked where they don’t belong, potential sniper roosts, anything that looks…off.”
The land around them was flat, the horizon broken by occasional stretches of leafless trees. No high ground, little concealment. Bad for snipers and potential attackers. Mostly good for them.
“We also need to figure out where to wait.”
“What about next to one of the hangars?” Valerie asked. “I see at least two houses that look empty. No lights on inside anyway.”
Scott’s thoughts exactly. “Drop me at the corner and continue around the circle. I’ll meet up with you here in a few minutes.” He didn’t want to leave Valerie with Alan—what if the man convinced her to leave Scott behind?—but he wanted to get the lay of the land on foot.
All was quiet as the Acura continued down street without him, visible in the warm circles of light cast by streetlamps. Scott jogged along the side of the first house and around the back fence to the airstrip. It was a nicely maintained concrete pad that ran beyond the curve of the neighborhood loop, meeting up with a paved path that connected to the off-runway homes.
A dog barked once or twice as Scott ran by the third house, but traffic from the nearest major road provided the only other sounds. The first dark house was in the middle of the string of homes that boasted security lighting and open blinds. The second showed more promise. It was the last before the street turned away from the runway. The neighboring house to the north had all its shades drawn, and the only lights were in the living room where the blue glow of a television flickered. Faint rumblings from what sounded like an action movie escaped into the night air. Perfect.
The house on the other side was the first on the curve and was set at an angle that blocked its view of the dark home’s back yard from all but the rear windows, which were covered with sheer curtains. He and Valerie would have to take their chances.
Scott squinted as he ran over the uneven grass, trying to make out the terrain. The last thing he needed was to step in a hole and break his leg. Or step on a snake.
Something small scurried through the brush nearby. A squirrel or rabbit, maybe. Beyond the airstrip, nothing moved, nothing glinted. There was no sign of any hides, or odd breaks in the skyline or shadows. Of course, a good sniper wouldn’t be seen, but even if Hollowell’s goons somehow knew Scott and Valerie were going to be here, the chances of his getting a shit-hot shooter here on short notice were low.
Within a few minutes, Scott was back at the neighborhood entrance and found Alan’s Acura idling with its headlights off at the stop sign where Aviation Circle met the side road from the main drag. His shoulders relaxed.
Valerie opened the passenger-side door and slid out with both of their bags.
Alan grabbed for her. “Valerie, wait.”
“No.” She pulled away and smacked the top of his doorframe. “Goddamn you, Alan. How could you?”
The bottom dropped out of Scott’s stomach. What the hell was going on?
“It was the only way I could think of to force your hand,” Alan said, his voice tight. “I’m trying to save you from yourself.”
“Well, congratulations,” she said, her harsh laugh cutting the air. “You probably just killed me.”
Alan grimaced and punched the gas, leaving her and Scott in a cloud of smoke as he peeled away, tires squealing.
“What the fuck just happened?” Scott asked.
Tremors wracked her body. Would Alan really go to such extremes to convince her not to go with Scott? “He said he responded to a reward post for any information on our location and gave them the details of our meeting with the plane. Supposedly, we’re worth a hundred bitcoin—about a hundred thousand dollars, last I checked. Each.”
Scott closed his eyes for a second and let out a deep breath before fixing his gaze on hers. “Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know.” The strap on her tote bag cut a deep groove in her shoulder, and she shifted to ease the burden. “I’d like to think he was bluffing, trying to scare me into leaving, but I can’t be sure.”
“Shit. Any idea how long ago he gave us up?” Scott grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the houses.
Valerie sighed. “At Taco Tavern, after we kissed.” Ninety minutes ago, when she’d been feeling on top of the world.
He was silent until they reached the relative shelter and darkness in the shadow of the hangar behind the second-to-last house on the runway. So far there was no sign of danger.
“I can’t let Caitlyn fly into a possible trap without warning,” Scott said. “If she waves off and we get ambushed…” He squeezed her fingers. “Maybe you should—”
“Don’t even say it. I’m not leaving without you.” She squinted into the moonlit surroundings and shuddered. Was anyone out there waiting to pounce? “We can’t abandon the pilot, and if we don’t get on that plane, we’re back to square one.”
“If Alan’s new friends show up, we might not get on that plane either way.”
“I’m staying.”
His lips flattened, but he nodded. “Okay.”
They crouched, every nerve on alert, time passing as if stuck in slow motion.
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of an engine rumbled through the wispy clouds obscuring the moon. The plane’s lights winked green and red as it descended, far too cheerful for the occasion.
The second the wheels touched, Scott pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
A gunshot blistered the air as they ran toward the runway. Another deadly missile whizzed overhead, and he dove into the rough grass, taking her to the ground with him. She landed on her hip with a bone-jarring thud. He rolled them both face down and shielded her torso and head with his body.
Raising his flashlight, he signaled the pilot, but she didn’t veer off track, didn’t immediately take off without them. Instead, she taxied to a stop about half a football field away, propellers running, the plane’s tail number obscured by something that looked like mud.
Only fifty yards, yet so far.
The wooden fence behind them sprayed splinters as another loud crack shattered the night. Two more bullets followed. Too close.
“Fuck.” Scott shifted his weight to her left, keeping himself between her and the gunfire. “I guess Alan really did screw us.”
Later, she’d have to deal with the horror of her old friend’s betrayal. First, she had to stay alive.
More shots tore through the darkness, this time coming from the far side of the plane. Was someone inside the plane shooting back?
The quiet neighborhood had turned into a war zone. Please don’t let anyone get hurt. She might not have started this, but she didn’t want more innocent people to die in the fight with her boss.
She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on Scott’s warm body pressing hers into the ground. Fear raced up her breastbone like a horde of marching ants and lodged in her throat.
The gunfire paused, and she waited, holding her breath for the next round.
Nothing. Seconds ticked by into minutes as the chill bled through her jeans. Scott didn’t move. Valerie’s ears rang. The drone of the propellers increased as her hearing recovered.
Scott lifted his head and slid off her onto the ground. “You okay?” he asked, his breath warm on her neck, voice faint.
She sucked in a lungful of air, the world spinning as if she’d just stepped off a carousel. “I think so.”
“Stay down.” He pushed to his knees, leaving her cold, and crouched on the balls of his feet. Body still, he scanned their surroundings and waited.
Valerie’s pulse throbbed in her throat. Were the gunmen still out there? Her brain buzzed like angry bees and her limbs started to shake. Oh. My. God. She’d like to say she’d never been so scared, but the incident with the FBI agents was far too fresh in her memory.
Still, she’d be happy to never experience live gunfire again. How was Scott so calm? Had being in war made him immune to the fear? Helpful for the current situation, but sad. People all over the world dealt with violence every day. She knew that. But no one should have to.
Something flashed from the doorway of the plane.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“A signal.”
“All clear?” A girl could hope.
“Proceed with caution. You ready to run?” he asked.
No. “Yes.”
The nearly full moon shone on his face and illuminated his “get up” gesture. “Get on your feet but stay down and behind me.”
She did as instructed and waited on wobbly legs.
He reached back and gripped her hand, scanning their surroundings for several seconds before tugging her to standing. “Go.”
Valerie held on with everything she had and raced for the tiny door. Halfway, Scott stumbled, nearly bringing them both down, but he recovered and pulled her in his wake. Across the flat plain, red and blue lights flashed from the vicinity of the strip mall. Perfect. More men with guns who were convinced she and Scott had killed two of their own.
The small door at the rear of the plane opened and a pretty woman wearing a tan shirt embroidered with BREVARD CHARTERS waved them forward. Scott put on the brakes and stepped aside to usher Valerie in ahead of him.
“Hey, Caitlyn,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for bringing the heat.”
“Sit down and strap in,” the woman said with a clipped nod. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
Valerie dropped into one of the plush seats facing the cockpit, and Scott sat across a small table from her, his face pale. Before they even had their seatbelts latched, the woman had closed the hatch and launched herself into the pilot’s chair. Within seconds, they were on the move.
Out the window, police cars raced up the main road toward Aviation Circle.
Fear pricked at Valerie’s arms, leaving her as shaky as a near miss in traffic on the Beltway. After several agonizing seconds, the nose of the plane lifted, straining against gravity as the back wheels clung stubbornly to the ground. She gripped the armrests so hard her knuckles ached. What if the police drove right out in front of them before they were airborne?
With a swoop that made her stomach dive, they were up, soaring over the flashing strobes of the cop cars, over the Aviation Circle streetlamps lined up like fence posts, over the houses where people had spilled into their backyards and onto front sidewalks.
Valerie finally let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m sorry. I never should have trusted him.”
“We didn’t have much choice. And, hey,” Scott waved to indicate the inside of the plane, “we made it.”
She chewed on a fingernail until she realized what she was doing and dropped her hands into her lap. “You’ve worked with her before?” she asked, desperate for a distraction as she gestured toward the pilot. Despite the woman’s no-frills ponytail and makeup-free skin covered in freckles, her auburn hair framed an elegant face and startling green eyes. Next to her, Valerie was about as appealing as a stick.
“She helped us out on an op in St. Isidore.” He glanced down and mumbled, “The one I mentioned earlier.”
She scrambled to think back to their conversation in the parking lot. Before the kiss. He had mentioned something about killing a man on a Caribbean island to protect his teammates. “Oh.” She knew so little about his life. Yes, he’d been a Marine sniper, he worked at Steele, he’d killed his dad…
He’d watched her for weeks. He knew everything important about her.
All she had on him were the broad strokes. When it came to the day-to-day stuff—what kind of food he liked, where he lived, what he did for fun, who his friends were, his hobbies—she had no idea.
Across the table, he grimaced and went still except for the muscle in his jaw.
“You okay?”
“Not sure,” he said, holding out his left hand, palm up.
It was covered in blood.