Catch a Shadow Page 17

  Sam was thinking about the missing money. She knew it, because she’d had the fleeting thought herself.

  She would have sworn, though, that there was something vulnerable in Jake’s eyes. Then they turned as dark and implacable as always.

  “Are you going to stay here when Robin comes?” Kirke asked.

  “Would you feel better if I did?”

  “No. Robin is curious. If she sees you, she might start putting things together. She gets a bone, and she doesn’t let go. She was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for a story she did last year.”

  With his usual economy of words, he just gave a brief nod and disappeared into Sam’s room.

  A few minutes later, Robin arrived.

  Her friend stood back and looked at her. “My God, you look like you’ve been in a war zone.”

  “Thank you,” Kirke replied.

  “You know what I mean. It’s been too long, Kirke.”

  “I know.” Kirke stood back and let her in.

  Robin’s gaze ran over the three cups on the table, a half-eaten donut. The other bags. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “Just that the past few days have been a bit unsettling.” She hoped Robin never learned what an understatement that was.

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  As always, Robin didn’t ask direct questions. She made a comment and sat back, waiting for answers to unasked questions. It was, Kirke knew, what made her a good reporter. She’d learned herself that she would get more information by listening rather than probing.

  She shrugged. “It’s really just what I told you. I need to get away.” Now, that wasn’t an understatement.

  “Okay,” Robin said good-naturedly, although there was a gleam of concern in her eyes. “But if you need anything, don’t forget I have my own FBI agent and what I call ‘my little old ladies detective club.’”

  “I remember,” Kirke said with a grin. Robin had had her own adventure last year and was aided by her eighty-year-old-plus neighbor and an elderly waitress.

  “Goddamn bird,” Merlin said in a man’s voice.

  Kirke felt a flood of relief as Robin chuckled.

  “No,” Kirke corrected, “Merlin’s a very good bird. So good that Robin wants to keep you for a few days.”

  “Robin,” echoed Merlin.

  Robin went over to the cage. “I’ll take very good care of the … blankety-blank bird,” she said, mischief dancing in her eyes. “I’ll try to edit his language.”

  In that moment, Kirke wanted to tell her everything. The purse snatching. The connection to the accident—no, murder—victim that started the nightmare she was living.

  But it wasn’t her story to tell. And Robin would feel honor bound to tell her husband and possibly pursue the story herself. That couldn’t happen.

  “I’ll contact you,” she said, mindful of the small window of time Jake said they had. She picked up Merlin’s cage. “I’ll help you with all this stuff.

  “You’re not going to tell me where you’re going?”

  “I’m not sure. I just need to get away for a few days.”

  “Okay. But if you need anything …”

  Twenty minutes later, both Robin and Sam had left. The room seemed very empty without Sam next door, without Spade or Merlin.

  Jake had watched them go, made sure they weren’t followed.

  Then he was back. “Time to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Find you someplace safe.”

  “The safest place is with you.”

  “No, it isn’t. For any number of reasons, it isn’t. Adams wants me. The feds want me, and dammit, I want you. That’s three reasons for you to run like hell.

  She was stunned for a moment. Particularly by the third reason. Lightning had flashed between them since they first met, but she was shocked he admitted it in plain words.

  “I don’t want to run from you.”

  He regarded her with frustration, then without warning he pulled her to him and bent his head to kiss her.

  There was nothing gentle about the meeting of lips. She felt the frustration and anger in them, then the need, and the world erupted around them.

  She drank in the scent of him—the mixture of man and a spicy aftershave lotion. She tasted him as his tongue entered her mouth, and she felt a tingling sensation burn in the core of her body and snake through the rest of her until she was helpless to do anything but ask for more with eager lips.

  The pressure of his hands changed from angry to demanding. She leaned into him, and his body hardened against hers. She wanted him. Dear heaven, she wanted him.

  He suddenly released her lips and cursed. Softly.

  “No good,” he said. “I’m poison to you.”

  She looked up at him. His eyes weren’t shadowed now. They were roiling with emotions she couldn’t define.

  “I want to go with you,” she said. “I can help.”

  “You already have. I don’t want you hurt again. Too many people have already been hurt because of me.”

  The pain in his voice pierced her. She’d started thinking he was immune to emotions, but now his words were raw with agony, and she realized she really didn’t know anything at all.

  “Either take me, or I’ll stay here,” she said. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” It was the only weapon she had. She sensed that threat was the only one that would work.

  “You have friends. This Robin?”

  “I won’t lead the bad guys to her.”

  His eyes searched hers. Heated. Frustrated. And tired. She wondered how much sleep he’d had. Not very much.

  “I can drive,” she offered.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m a good driver.” She pressed her case. “And I have a valid license.” She paused, then asked, “And you? Which of the licenses are you going to use? What if you’re stopped, and someone follows up on it?”

  He ignored the logic. “You don’t know Gene Adams.”

  “No. That’s why I’m safer with you.”

  “I don’t know how many men he has with him. I count at least three now, but there could be more. Mercenaries.”

  “You said you needed him to come to you. He won’t do that until he gets me first. You said that, too. You need me.”

  “I can fool him into thinking you’re with me. One of your credit cards. That’s all I need. In the meantime, you can go somewhere safe. A room in any city in the country.”

  “My credit card was stolen, and I have only the one. And how can I avoid this Adams if he comes after me? I don’t even know what he looks like. What any of them look like.”

  She hoped she didn’t sound like she was begging. “I will be safer with you,” she concluded.

  “You’re a distraction,” he said bluntly.

  “Wouldn’t I be one if you were worrying about me?” That was, of course, if he gave a damn.

  He was silent a moment, then said, “You have to promise to do everything I tell you when I tell you.”

  “I will.”

  “If I tell you to leave, you leave.”

  She nodded.

  “Swear. Just as you did to Del Cox.”

  “I swear.”

  “God help me if it turns out as badly as your first oath did,” he said.

  CHAPTER 19

  What do the damn numbers mean?

  The question was driving Jake nuts as he drove through the afternoon and early evening with Kirke asleep beside him.

  He glanced at Kirke. He’d continued to do his damndest to change her mind about coming with him until the moment they both got in the car, and even after.

  How many lives was he going to disrupt, if not destroy?

  They were traveling light. She’d packed the few items he’d fetched from her house. He had three pairs of jeans, one pair of washable slacks, four shirts and two T-shirts, shaving gear, a toothbrush, and not much else. Well, he’d had less in prison.

  Kirke didn’t have
much more.

  “There’s no place to go,” she’d insisted when he’d offered yet again to send her someplace. “Robin and Sam are the only people I’m really close to, at least to barge in for a week or more with few explanations. Sam’s gone, and I wouldn’t lead anyone to Robin. Besides, I would have to explain things to her, and that wouldn’t be good for you. I could go to a motel, but …”

  “No family?”

  “No one but Sam,” she said.

  His heart was touched by the admission. He also realized how very little he knew about her. The one thing he did know was her vulnerability. She’d been right about that. She had few skills in evasion. She’d probably be easy to find, and she had an uncanny talent for attracting danger.

  He hadn’t wanted her with him for any number of reasons, among them the effect she had on him. She stirred emotions in him he thought long dead. Lust, of course, was natural; he’d been without sex for a very long time. But it was the other emotions that bedeviled him, the ones that touched him in unexpected places.

  She was brave and scared. She was smart, street shrewd, but an innocent where someone like Adams was concerned. She couldn’t even imagine what the man was capable of, though she was learning fast.

  So in the end, he’d agreed to bring her along.

  “Where are we?” she asked suddenly, and he glanced over at her. She’d straightened up in her seat, and one hand rubbed her eyes.

  “North Carolina.”

  “Where in North Carolina?” She glanced down at a map that lay between them. It was a southeastern United States map he’d found at a convenience store. Before she dosed off, she’d marked their progress.

  “Almost to Virginia.”

  She glanced at the clock. “I didn’t sleep that long.”

  Through the corner of his eye, he saw her frown at his poor attempt of humor. “What about you?” she asked. “I can drive while you sleep.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  She sat up straighter in the seat. “Tell me about that bar you and Cable had in common.”

  “Cox,” he corrected her.

  “I can’t stop thinking of him as Cable,” she said. “Too many names here. He was Mark Cable and Del Cox. You were David Cable and who else?”

  “Daniel now,” he said, “Daniel Davis. Remember it, if you can. It’s on my driver’s license.”

  “You don’t look like a Daniel.”

  “Maybe because I’m not.”

  “You do look like a Jake. Or is it Jacob?”

  “I’m afraid to ask what a Jake looks like, and yes, it is Jacob.” He was talking more than he had in seven years and longer. He’d rarely indulged in small talk, even when he was married, but now he felt a baffling pleasure in bantering with her. It dulled the cutting edge of loneliness that had been a part of him since he left the service, maybe even before that.

  “No nonsense,” she said slowly. “No pretense. Direct.”

  Impersonal stuff. All of it, but wasn’t that what he wanted? No, he wanted a great deal more. He just couldn’t have it without destroying both of them. No distractions now. People who care made mistakes.

  He didn’t answer. Nothing to say that wouldn’t continue a conversation that was becoming more intimate than he could afford.

  “You’re changing the subject. Tell me more about that bar,” she persisted. “That’s where we’re heading, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “This Dallas, she made an impression?”

  “Yeah. I liked her. And I was surprised when Del Cox mentioned her. He wasn’t a man to share.”

  “Warm and funny? I think I would like her.”

  “I think you like everyone.”

  “You sound disapproving.”

  “It can be dangerous.”

  “And it can be interesting,” she countered. She rested her arm on his knee.

  Warmth flooded him.

  A warmth that could prove deadly.

  He tried to divert her thoughts. And his. “I called information for a number for the bar when I got the coffee this morning,” he said. “There’s no current phone number.”

  “Did you try to find Dallas?”

  “Never knew her last name, but once I get there, I should be able to find someone who remembers her. Maybe she knows the key to this riddle.”

  “We should be able to find her, then,” she said.

  “We?”

  “I used to be a reporter. I was good at it. Besides, I’m good at talking to people.”

  “And I’m not?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He didn’t doubt that for a moment. He always went straight for the jugular in a conversation. She, on the other hand, had a background that depended on extracting information from people in an entirely different way.

  “How did you become a paramedic?”

  “I owned the house. After I lost my job, I didn’t want to leave Atlanta, and there were no journalism jobs. I didn’t particularly want to go into public relations. I’ve always liked biology and even for a time thought about medicine. I thought this would be a good way to decide whether I wanted to pursue it.

  “And you stayed with it?”

  She shifted in her seat. “I didn’t have the money for eight more years of schooling, and I’ve been thinking about writing a book. Nonfiction about being a paramedic. Maybe fiction later.”

  He digested that. He suspected she didn’t mention the real reason. She obviously liked the adrenaline of her job. He’d noticed that when he’d been in her home, then when she was at the hospital.

  “Okay,” she said, as if embarrassed about the direction of their conversation. “Back to the problem. We have a bar in Virginia. Maybe. We have a waitress/manager, maybe. We have some numbers, but no idea what they mean. We’re making progress.”

  In addition to being stubborn, she was an optimist. Or just being sarcastic.

  “Maybe,” he replied.

  She laughed. She seemed to do that a lot. It was amazing, considering their circumstances.

  He liked the sound of it. Throaty and rich. He liked having her in the seat next to him as well. The sparks between them excited him in a way he’d almost forgotten, yet their silences were companionable. It was an odd and intriguing combination.

  “What about the numbers?” she said after he didn’t answer. “Any more thoughts on that?”

  He had many, but none of them seemed to offer much help. He shook his head. “Not any we didn’t discuss.” He paused. “I’m trying to put together my conversations with Del. There weren’t that many.”

  “How long did you know him?”

  “Four weeks planning for the mission, then a week going in. Usually there’s more training for something this complicated, but there wasn’t time. A South American drug lord had made it known he had U.S. missiles for sale to the highest bidder. We couldn’t let them get in the wrong hands, and we had to know the source.”

  “What happened to those missiles?”

  “I heard they were taken out by an air strike. I don’t know the details.”

  “Then they never discovered who and how they were acquired.”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Did this drug lord have a family or close associates?”

  He glanced over at her. “A brother,” he said. “He handled the business end.”

  “Maybe he would like to know what happened.”

  He liked the way her mind worked, exploring every possible angle, letting one clue lead to another. Hell, he liked everything about her.

  And the last place she should be is here beside him.

  “You’re thinking of catching a thief with another one.”

  “Something like that.”

  “The CIA would do well to recruit you,” he said.

  “I take it that’s not entirely a compliment.”

  It was growing dark, and he was hungry. She must be as well. All they’d had were the rest of the donuts he’d bought yesterday, a
nd coffee.

  “Hungry?”

  She nodded. “I also need some makeup. Maybe dark glasses. People will think you’re beating me and call the police.”

  He took his eyes off the road and glanced at her. Her eye was no longer swollen, but the area around it was several different hues of purple. She still had a small bandage on her cheek and one large one on her arm. There were a few other small healing abrasions. “God, I’m sorry about those injuries.”

  “You shouldn’t be. You didn’t have anything to do with it. I really don’t like someone else to take responsibility for my actions.”

  “I think that’s what they call independent to a fault.”

  “Can you ever be too independent?”

  The way she said it surprised him. Combative. Challenging.

  “You’re divorced?” he asked.

  She stared at him. “How did you know that?”

  He didn’t want to lie to her. He’d done too much of that already. “I did a search on you.”

  She shrugged. “For a short period. I got sucked into the ‘everyone should be married’ philosophy. I soon discovered my husband had a very different idea of marriage than I did.”

  Before he could ask her more, she turned the question on him. “And you? Were you married? Or are you married?”

  Touché. He usually didn’t let people get into private places. Yet he’d asked her. Damn hypocritical of him to ask without being willing to discuss his own personal life, or lack of it. Still, he never talked about his father or his ex-wife.

  The silence lengthened between them.

  “You were, then?” she said finally.

  “Yes.” The curtness of his reply didn’t invite more questions.

  “No more?”

  “No more.”

  To his surprise, she dropped the subject. “The numbers,” she said. “Any more thoughts about what the numbers mean?”

  “Telephone number, foreign bank account, safe-deposit box numbers, post office box numbers. Or none of the above. Del never mentioned numbers.”

  “Could it be a pin number for a computer program? A password?”

  He took his eyes off the road for another second to glance at her. There was little traffic, even on this heavily trafficked interstate highway, and he couldn’t resist. She kept surprising him with that quick mind. He supposed she was a good paramedic. She soaked up information like a sponge and seldom became rattled, even when her own life was in danger. She also had an empathy for people—and parrots—that made them trust her.