Countdown to Zero Hour (23 page)

Hayley opened the back passenger door, and Art shoved Rolan in. The former boss only had the strength to lie in the foot well, his dirty clothes twisted all around him. Art closed the door and leaned on the car with Hayley.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and she hooked her fingers into the waist of his jeans. Feeling her next to him was life. His injuries didn’t matter. The pain remained but couldn’t overcome the realness of her. Hayley was alive. She was safe.

To the north, a helicopter hovered over the compound.

She stared at it, eyes a bit remote. “Is that our ride?”

“Yeah.” And he couldn’t wait to get out of this corner of the desert.

She asked without bringing her eyes to him, “Are you going away?”

“No.” He held her tighter, taking in her thoughtful face. “I’m me again.”

Her shadowed gaze moved to him. “Because the mission is over?”

He shook his head and leaned forward. The moment was so contained and private, the distance between them small. Their connection was delicate and strong enough to survive the bullets and the fire.

“Because you,” he said, and he kissed her.

She returned the kiss and the emotion. They shared each other. For the first time in a very long time, he was safe.

* * *

Flying in a helicopter with open doors might’ve scared her a week ago. Maybe even a day ago. But as the vehicle climbed high enough to get another peek at the sun, which had dipped below the horizon, Hayley had no gulp of fear.

She sat with Art on small benches that folded out of the walls in the middle of the vehicle. The cut on his shoulder had been tended to by the British soldier after they’d loaded all the Russian mobsters onto the helicopter. But Art remained dirty, bloody in places. He was a warrior, exhausted from giving everything in the fight and defeating anything that had stood in his way.

The Russians were all bound, with dark sacks over their heads. Some of them had bandaged wounds. Gogol’s leg was in a long splint. Even Martha’s driver had been nabbed by unseen members of Art’s team after he’d dropped the woman off. Art had explained that there was another set of helicopters waiting to take the bosses and surviving guards to the necessary authorities. Rolan was headed to the Netherlands.

The boss who’d “hired” her for the job had been silent since Art had thrown him in the car. Instead of going to the compound, Art had spoken on his walkie-talkie and had given Hayley directions to an empty patch of desert, where she’d witnessed a perfectly camouflaged Mary emerge from the dirt. The sniper carried her rifle to the waiting SUV and on the ride back.

The rest of Art’s team was also on the helicopter. They leaned on the walls or each other, as if on a bus on the way back from a camping trip. She couldn’t be that nonchalant about the circumstances, but she was a step closer to Art’s world.

Explosions had gone off around her. Watching Art dive for that hand grenade had seized her with fear. But he hadn’t hesitated. He’d kept his word and done everything he could to keep her safe. Which was why she’d had to go after him in the SUV when she’d seen him on the back of the water truck. She’d never promised him protection, hadn’t thought it was in her power, but all that had been erased when he’d started to disappear into the darkness of the desert.

The helicopter banked, and she slid her hand into his. He held her tight and turned to gaze into her eyes. The motor was too loud to speak, and they didn’t have the headsets that the others did.

He asked if she was okay with a tilt of his head.

She nodded, yes.

Epilogue

Hayley didn’t feel guilty that their restaurant had been opened using a percentage of the cash found at the compound after the raid. The Orel Group was dead, its bosses in dark prisons and everyone else scattered. Because Automatik was unofficial according to any government on the planet, they had the ability to parcel out enough money to pay back her mom, donate to several charities around town and to kit the simple kitchen out with a better stove and flat top griddle.

The good reviews were beginning to come in on social media, despite the rocky start Art had working the front of the house. But he’d picked it up quickly, and the people started digging his slightly surly attitude.

His demeanor was always more agreeable when they were together in the small house they’d rented. The tension from the compound was behind them. They made love with the bedroom door open, whenever they wanted.

There were nights when she woke, confused and wondering if the place was secure. He would soothe her with an easy voice, then check all the locks before returning to bed. She would read him, too. When the darkness would gather behind his eyes. Sometimes talking out the memories helped. Other times she would just sit with him, keep a hand on him so he knew he wasn’t alone.

Neither of them was alone.

This night there was still company at the restaurant, despite the doors being closed and locked. She shut down the fires in the kitchen and carried two serving trays out to the wood-paneled dining room. As soon as Art saw her coming, he sprang up and took one of the trays from her.

Together, they set the food down at one of the two large tables in the middle of the restaurant, where Harper, Jackson and Mary sat. The sniper glanced from the pile of steaming rice pilaf to Hayley, emotion in her eyes.

“Lebanese?” Deep surprise crossed Mary’s face.

“I don’t break a food promise.” Hayley arranged the platters, revealing chicken kabobs, small phyllo pies filled with ground beef, and several side salads.

Jackson clinked his beer with Mary’s, which rested on the table. “Good thing you shoot straight. Otherwise we wouldn’t be eating all this.”

She smiled with swagger and picked up her beer for a long drink.

Art handed Harper some large spoons. “Serve it up.”

Hayley watched them dig in, piling the food onto their plates. “You know our menu, a little Russian, a little Mexican, but I kept a corner of the kitchen separate for this tonight.”

And it had been a decent take for a Wednesday. The place had a shot.

The Automatik soldiers, her and Art’s friends, all thanked her.

Art started to sit, then remembered something. “I’ve got to get the light.”

He strode toward the front of the restaurant, and Hayley went with him. A flick of a switch by the entrance darkened the sign over the door that read
Da/Sí
.

She put her hands on his hips and stretched up so she could kiss the back of his neck. An appreciative growl rumbled through him. He double-checked that the front door was locked, then turned to her.

“Expecting trouble?” She peered out the glass door to the quiet dark street beyond.

“Maybe outside, maybe inside.” He smirked, glancing at his friends at the table.

“You want trouble?” Her fist lightly tapped his chest.

“If it’s you...” He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Then, hell yeah.”

“Good.” She snarled, loving how he bared his teeth with her. “Then let’s make trouble.”

“Yes, Master Chef.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
A SECRET IN CONARD COUNTY
by Rachel Lee.

A Secret in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

Prologue

T
wo days had passed, but the bomber was still shaking. He hid out in the abandoned warehouse, in one tiny corner, and had built up an extra wall of empty crates to hide behind. He had plenty to fear.

Someone knew who he was. Someone had put him on a job that had caused him to shoot an FBI agent. Shooting people sickened him. Bombs were so much cleaner, and while he enjoyed reading about the aftermath, he didn’t want to see it. One bomb,
poof
, the person was gone, turned into a red mist that left little enough behind. Shooting...not so clean. It was close, it was personal and he’d never forget that agent’s face.

Plus, it was bad enough having the Feds after him even before he’d hurt one of their own.

Inevitably, his cell phone rang. Nobody should have his number, but someone had got it, and he knew what he’d hear on the other end: the mechanical voice that had given him this last job. Ordered him to complete it under threat of exposing him.

But he’d never dreamed he’d have to shoot that woman. Her face haunted him as no face ever had before. He needed to erase her, but was terrified of it. He needed to turn her into a red haze, and he didn’t want to see it happen. What if she remembered
his
face?

His hand was still shaking as he answered the phone. As expected, it was the mechanical voice, calling from a number he couldn’t locate or identify. Once the number had even changed.

“You fool,” said the mechanically distorted voice. “You shot her, you blew up her house and she’s still alive. I told you she was close to getting you.”

“I know.” His voice sounded thin to his own ears.

“You should never have called her to taunt her. You put her on guard. You made a mess of it. Now you’re going to have to clean up your mess.”

“I can’t do anything in a hospital. Too many people.” He never wanted to hurt a lot of people. Only his carefully chosen victims, women who had treated him badly. Not little kids. Not nurses and doctors. Not even FBI agents.

“Not now. She looks like she’s going to survive. Later, when she’s on leave, you’re going to blow her up.”

He could do that if he knew where to look. Some of his tremors faded. “Yes.”

“I’ll tell you when and where. And this time you’d better not screw it up, or I’ll turn you in. You’ll spend the rest of your life confined to a tiny cell. Maybe they’ll even kill you.”

Dealing death was one thing. Being killed was another. He said nothing.

“Do you understand me? You take her out and I won’t turn you in.”

“Yes,” he said. A new mission, a new target. His heart rate steadied. He could do this.

“For now lay low. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

He looked at the bomb he’d been building, a pastime that soothed him, and felt a pang of disappointment. It would be ready soon, but now he couldn’t use it.

“Harry,” the voice said, reminding him it knew his name. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then wait for my call tomorrow, ten in the morning.”

With a click, the line went dead, leaving only a hum. Slowly he turned off his own phone, removed the battery and turned back to the bomb. In some odd way the call had calmed him. He felt better now.

He went back to building his bomb.

Chapter 1

E
rin Sanders opened her eyes. The flashing lights reflected from her rearview mirror straight into them. A cop was pulling up behind her in a tan SUV. She sighed, kissing off the hope of a brief nap, wondering why he was stopping. She’d pulled off the highway onto a dirt turnout just to take a little rest. Road hypnosis had begun to get to her, as well as fatigue, hardly surprising since she was still healing.

The day was bright and sunny, and being parked on the side of the road was hardly suspicious. As far as she could see, for miles around there wasn’t another soul. Drying summer grasses, punctuated by brush, fences and mountains. Practically the middle of nowhere.

Then again, her job had taught her to be suspicious of even the apparently ordinary, like a cop pulling up behind her on a nearly deserted highway. In the fifteen minutes she’d been parked here, she’d watched several trucks tear by at top speed, and a few pickups and cars. Now there was nothing in sight except the vehicle pulling up behind her.

Instinctively she slipped her hand into her suit jacket and gripped the butt of her service pistol, thumb on the safety. A few minutes passed and she knew what he was doing: checking her out-of-state plates. At last she saw the door open and its occupant climb out. Watching in her side-view mirror she took in the khaki uniform, the tan cowboy hat, the gun belt. As he walked closer, she noted that he was tall and strongly built. He had an easy stride, a comfortable bearing. Okay, he wasn’t looking for trouble.

She waited, not yet ready to remove her hand from her pistol. It was too soon to trust anyone, most especially someone in a uniform. The guy who had nearly killed her had been wearing a police uniform.

He reached the side of her car and bent down, giving her a full view of his rugged face. Late thirties, maybe? Sun and wind had taken a bit of toll. He looked at her from aquamarine eyes that reminded her of the waters around the Florida Keys. The punch of instant attraction she felt was unwelcome and unwanted.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asked through the three-inch opening she’d left in her window. His voice was pleasantly deep.

“Fine, just resting,” she answered.

“Lonely place for a break,” he remarked.

“Better than running off the road because I’m tired.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “True. You wanna tell me what you’re holding under your jacket?”

Smart, too, she thought. And a stupid rookie mistake on her part to telegraph that she was holding something. Another sigh escaped her as she realized he wasn’t just going to walk away. Now she’d have to explain and get out of the car despite the pain and deal with an alert county mountie. She could have stood on her rights, but he also had a court-granted right to protect himself. Time to cooperate.

“Deputy,” she said, “I’m holding my sidearm. If you want to back up, I’ll pull it out where you can see it and show you my ID.”

He scanned her face quickly, nodded once and backed up to the rear of her vehicle. At the same time he released the snap on his own holster and drew his pistol.

He was good, Erin thought sourly. She hoped this didn’t drag on for too long. On the other hand, at this point she was fairly certain he was exactly what he appeared to be. Now it was her turn to reassure him.

She pulled her pistol out of the holster, rolled down the window all the way and placed the pistol on the top of the car, grimacing as her ribs screamed. Dang, she felt naked now. And he was still watching from the back, his gun at the ready.

She pushed the door open, wincing with every movement. Getting away for a while had been a great idea. Sitting still for so long in a car hadn’t been. Every single injury that had brought her to this point protested. Torn muscle and scarred skin cried out. She wondered if she’d be able to stand.

Moving cautiously, as much because of her body as anything, she climbed out, keeping her hands in plain view. Then, facing him, her hands up, she called, “FBI. I’m going to pull my ID out of my pocket, okay?”

“Go for it,” he answered, keeping a bead on her.

She’d stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. Now she jabbed her aching fingers in and fished it out. It took both her hands to flip it open and show it.

He scanned it, then holstered his pistol and walked up to her. She let him take the badge case and study it.

“Mind if I call this in?”

“Be my guest, as long as I can sit down again.”

Those amazing eyes of his leaped from the case to her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Two weeks out of the hospital. Not everything is up to par.”

“Wanna sit in my car?”

“That’s more moving than I want to do right now, Deputy.” She scanned his name badge. Deputy Conroe. “I’ll just perch here while you check me out.”

She hated it when he took her pistol off the roof of her car and carried it with him. She understood, but hated it anyway. These days she couldn’t stand having the thing out of her sight.

Five minutes passed while she sat with her feet on the dirt and her bottom on the edge of the driver’s seat. Warm, dry prairie winds blew over her, and at last another burst of traffic arrived, sweeping past them and leaving even more heat in its wake. She watched them go by in both directions, hoping they were all feeling better than she was. On their way to exciting destinations. Not just on the run from themselves.

She heard crunching and looked over her left shoulder to see Deputy Conroe coming back. He carried her badge case and her gun, apparently satisfied.

She managed a faint smile as he passed them back to her. “Sorry for the hassle, Agent Sanders.”

“No hassle,” she admitted. “Once you knew I was armed we were going down this road, weren’t we? Some things you have to do.”

He surprised her then by squatting so their faces were nearly level. “You’re not all right. Even I can see it. You want a ride into town? We can pick up your car later.”

She looked into that rugged face and read more than a professional concern. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do in town. I’m just rambling.”

“I heard. So let’s get you and your gear to someplace where you can rest. If you’re worried about your car, I can get it towed before we leave here.”

She wondered what else he’d heard in those five minutes. She had the worst urge to tell him she didn’t need any help, but a glance to the west warned her there wasn’t much time left before the sun sank behind those mountains. Weariness had caught up with her and seemed to be deepening by the minute. What was she going to do? Sleep out here in her car? Messed up though she was, she retained a vestige or two of common sense.

“Thanks,” she said finally.

“Give me your keys. Suitcases in the trunk, right? I’ll help you get into my car, we’ll wait for the tow and then I’ll take you into town. You can sleep if you want.”

For the first time in months, Erin felt peace wash over her, as if the universe had just sent a blessing her way. Maybe there was still some good left after all.

* * *

Lance Conroe figured Agent Erin Sanders had no idea how bad she appeared right now. Framed by short dark hair, her face displayed smooth, classic lines, but just then she looked as pale as white muslin, and awfully fragile. Her sherry-brown eyes were a bit sunken. Given what she did for a living, he didn’t figure this was the former version of herself. Sure must have been some kind of hell that put her in a hospital and left her dragged out like this.

He had to walk slowly to stay beside her, but he didn’t offer to steady her, suspecting that might offend her. When it came time for her to climb in the passenger seat of his SUV, however, she didn’t even try to argue against his assistance. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, his other beneath her knees and put her in the seat. Too easily. Light as a feather. Too light.

“Nap,” he suggested. “I’ll get a tow here in about twenty minutes.”

She closed her eyes and didn’t stir at all as he radioed for the tow truck and told them to step on it. While they waited, he unloaded two suitcases from the trunk of her vehicle. It must be her personal vehicle because he didn’t find additional weapons but he did find a Kevlar vest and dark blue FBI operations jacket. He brought those, too, placing everything in the back end of his car, squeezing it in among his own collection of job tools, from shotguns and ammunition, to protective clothing and rain gear. A cop’s trunk was his home away from home.

Then he checked her glove box, but all it contained were the owner’s manual and her registration. Sure that everything was safe, he stood by, waiting for the truck.

He wondered if she’d be gone by tomorrow or if he’d get a chance to learn her story. Whatever it was, it was bad.

Thirty minutes later he was following the tow truck toward town. In all that time, Erin Sanders hadn’t stirred. His radio crackled, he’d reported what he was doing, and as he drove he passed another deputy headed out to take over his section of the state highway.

Then he heard a cell phone ring. He half expected Erin to sleep right through it, but maybe some things ran deeper than sleep for a law enforcement officer. She popped her eyes open and felt around in her pocket, pulling out her cell. She lifted it to the side of her face and said, “Sanders.”

He kept his gaze fixed on the truck and her car just ahead. He’d told them to put her car at the garage. Larry would keep it in his lot until she wanted it back.

“Fran, I’m fine,” he heard Erin say. “I was dozing beside the road and a deputy picked me up. Of course he checked me out when he found out I was armed.”

A long silence.

“I don’t know exactly where I am. Somewhere in Wyoming. We’re headed to some town where I can find a bed.”

“Conard City,” Lance interjected helpfully.

“Conard City,” Erin repeated with a slight nod to him. “And if you’re worried about it, you can check him out. Deputy Conroe.”

“Lance Conroe, Conard County Sheriff’s Office.”

“Did you catch that, Fran? Okay. I’m fine, just tired.”

Another long silence, then Erin spoke impatiently. “Why would I want to do that? I’ve got the whole kit and caboodle, all the wounds and scars, an ex who pesters me, a killer who got away, a body taking forever to heal and nightmares that won’t quit. What more do I need? Another man? No, I will not call Tom, and I won’t be returning his calls. I need this break.”

Whoa, thought Lance, that was an entire mess in one succinct passage. He felt a bit of sympathy for her as he heard her wind up the call and put her phone away.

“Sorry,” she said. “You didn’t need to hear that.”

“Too much information?” he asked lightly. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I sounded whiny.”

“You sounded fed up. Big difference.”

She stirred at last, turning slowly in her seat, her cautious movements betraying her. Something still hurt, something was still healing and moving wasn’t her favorite activity. At once his mind slipped into another gear. He’d planned to leave her at the La-Z-Rest Motel, which for all it was decrepit was at least clean, but right across the state highway was a truck stop. No silence, even at night.

“You’re a nice man, Deputy,” she said.

“Lance. Not doing anything special.”

“I beg to differ.” She fell silent for a few seconds. “I saw signs for a big resort on my way here. Is it open?”

“Not yet.” Biggest joke around. Finally they were pulling everything together for the long-promised resort and it all had come to a huge halt last spring because of a landslide. It was as if the Fates conspired against the town. Not that everyone wanted the place, but it would have offered some jobs and put a little extra cash in the local economy. “All we have to offer these days is a fleabag motel across the highway from a truck stop.”

“It’ll do. I’ve slept all kinds of places.”

He imagined she had. He wished he could put her someplace better, but the few rooming houses rented by the week or month, not by the day. And asking a family to take her in would probably be miserable for her and everyone else. He thought briefly of his aunt but knew he couldn’t make the offer without checking with Maria first. So the motel it was. She’d probably be there only one night anyway.

“You need to eat?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I can take you to a diner in town before I leave you at the motel. Considering you don’t seem to be moving too well, that might be better than trying to cross the highway to the truck stop.”

Silence. For some reason he expected her to get vocally annoyed by his interference. It really was none of his business. Yet the thought of dropping her off like that seemed hardly better than having left her in her car by the roadside.

“Knight-errant?” she asked.

“Who, me?” That surprised a laugh out of him. “Just a cop trying to help a fellow cop. The way you’re moving, I’m not sure they should have let you out of the hospital.”

“Apparently you don’t have much experience with insurance. Anyway, I wouldn’t have let them keep me.”

He could well believe that. “Listen,” he said presently. “The speed limit by the motel is supposed to be thirty. Well, we get all types coming along the state highway, and some don’t read too well. The thought of you trying to cross that piece of road when some knucklehead comes barreling along at sixty...”

“Got you,” she answered. “Thanks. The diner sounds good.”

He reached for his radio, and called Larry who was driving just ahead of him. “Larry, change of plans. Take the lady’s car to the La-Z-Rest. Thanks.”

The woman beside him spoke. “That’s the name of the motel?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, God,” she said. It was all he could do not to laugh again. Instead he just said, “Yup,” once more.

Then she utterly astonished him by laughing quietly herself. “The La-Z-Rest,” she said. “I can hardly wait.”

* * *

She really had arrived at the ends of the earth, Erin thought as she eased into a booth at the nearly empty diner. Lance Conroe took a minute to let the dispatcher know where he was, then followed her inside.

Just as he settled across from her, a Gorgon of a woman slapped menus down in front of them. “Coffee or the fancy stuff?” she asked.