Elude (21 page)

"Well…" I held in my chuckle. "…when you have five of them…"

"I had three." She held up four fingers.

"Good to know you're just fine." I laughed. "Should I carry you?"

"Probably." She gave me a dopey grin. "But I think I can at least make it to the car."

"It's about a mile away."

"Oh." Her face fell.

"How about a piggyback ride?" I offered lamely, hating that a simple walk to the car was making her sad because she was so exhausted.

She stopped walking and crossed her arms. "Riding a cowboy was on the list."

"I'm not following."

"Talk to me in a southern accent, and I'll imagine a cowboy hat on that gorgeous head of hair and boom… I'm riding a cowboy."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Andi, I have so many different scenarios that would fit perfectly with that statement. None of them, however, include me carrying you through the park while singing 'Achy Breaky Heart.'"

"Oh good. You know it then?"

"I need to learn the art of silence."

"Probably true." She nodded.

"And teach it to you," I added.

"Aw, come on cowboy…"

I rolled my eyes and turned around so she could jump onto my back. "Should I find a park bench, or can you actually jump this high?"

"Never ask a ninja if she can jump — it's degrading."

"My mistake. I thought you were a short Russian masquerading as a baker. Go ahead, ninja. Jump."

She did, probably using the rest of the energy she had left. Her arms wrapped around my neck tightly. "Mush."

"I thought I was a horse."

"I changed my mind. Girls can do that on occasion."

Damn, the girl made me smile. The afternoon sun was starting to set as we walked along the path. Andi was encouraging me to use a southern accent in her most Russian accent.

And I was trying to pay attention to our surroundings, just in case we'd somehow been followed.

I thought we were in the clear until we reached the edge of the park. I could see the street, and immediately regretted that simple fact the minute two black sedans pulled up to the curb.

Five men got out.

Two from the first car.

Three from the second.

Andi tensed behind me.

"Andi." I kept my smile in place like there wasn't anything wrong. "Got any energy left?"

"Enough." She shuddered behind me.

"My gun," I whispered. "It's in the back of my pants. Reach between your legs and slide it up so nobody sees."

"You know in any other situation…" she muttered as I felt the gun slide up my back.

"Good," I encouraged. "The minute I put you down I want you to aim for the guy to the left. Don't shoot for the head. Hit his kneecap so he goes down. If he reaches for his gun—"

"This isn't my first rodeo, cowboy."

"You're right. I forget."

"I'm good. Don't worry about me."

The tension left my body. "I won't. Just don't get shot. I hate having to sew up bullet wounds."

"Please." I could feel the energy riding off her body. "You owe me a massage if my body count's higher."

"So now it's a competition?"

"Russians rarely lose."

"Well, you should get used to it. Because this Italian's going to hand you your ass."

"I'd like to see you try."

The men were trying to look nonchalant, outside their cars, smoking cigars like they weren't waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack.

"One," I whispered.

Andi slid farther down my back. "Two."

"Three." The word fell from my lips just as I ducked to the right. Andi went to my left and popped off two rounds directly into the guy's kneecaps — not just one, but both of them. A crunching sound broke out across the park as he fell on bones, cracking them further. He wailed in pain and surprisingly didn't reach for his gun.

Three of the men started charging me. Gun less, I could only rely on the fact that my fists were just as deadly as any gun could be, and I punched the first man in the throat then turned and elbowed the next. They stumbled back. Another gunshot went off. Andi was seriously picking them off like she was shooting fish in a bucket.

The three men turned their heads to glare at her. Then, rather than attacking, came at me again.

Surprised, I was knocked in the face by the first guy but sidestepped the next hit then landed a hard blow to his stomach followed by a knee to the groin. With a growl, I head-butted the next guy then punched him in the jaw; the sound of teeth breaking was my only indication that he'd be down for the count.

The final man circled me.

"Let me get him," Andi pleaded behind me.

"He's mine," I barked.

The man shrugged and held up his hands. "You should let girl do your work."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll never hear the end of it."

"Andi," the man called, "why not come with us, huh? You've done job. Time to come home."

"Job?" I repeated.

Andi came up beside me and aimed the gun for his forehead. "I've never worked for you."

"Oh?" The man chuckled and glanced at me. "He knows as well as I know… you are never out."

"Please let me pull the trigger."

The man ran at us.

I ducked then heaved my body into his, sending him backward against the park bench. Punch after punch I landed to his face, his blood mixing with the slices breaking out on my knuckles.

The sound of sirens interrupted my blatant mutilation of his body.

"Serg…" Andi kicked me. "…gotta disappear."

I backed up, chest heaving. "Right."

With one last kick to his body, I grabbed her hand and ran like hell toward our car, our very easy-to-spot car.

"Shit!" I tossed her the keys. "Start the car." I opened the trunk and hit the red button. A new license plate slid over the old one; it said
New Mexico
. Good enough.

I jumped into the car and waited for the cops to pass the street then sped off in the other direction.

"You think they know we're in this car?" Andi asked breathlessly.

"Andi, NASA probably knows we're in this car," I muttered and glanced in the rearview mirror. "But I changed plates so even if they grab a picture of the plates, they'll think we're a retired couple living on a farm raising ducks."

"People do that?"

"Retire?"

"Raise ducks."

"Mr. and Mrs. Thomas do."

"Good for them." Andi nodded. "Any money in that, you think?"

The car hugged the corner tightly as I quickly got us on the freeway. "Are we seriously having a conversation about ducks after killing some people?"

"Correction." Andi placed the gun on the console. "I killed. You maimed."

"You killed?"

"Well, technically they're dead anyway. Either the cops get them, they die in jail, or my father finds them and shoots them. All dead."

"True."

"So when's your birthday?"

I jerked the wheel to the right in shock. "What?"

"Sorry." She bit her lip. "I just get chatty after a good fight."

I burst out laughing and hit the accelerator. "Wouldn't want you any other way."

Sergio

WE WALKED INTO THE SILENT HOUSE
. I frowned when I glanced at the keypad for the alarm. It bothered me.

The whole situation bothered me.

Like I was missing something important.

Did I question Andi? More doubt crept in at the man's words in the park. Was she still working for her father?

No. It would be impossible.

What would she possibly have to gain? When she was already dead. Harsh but true.

Andi disappeared the minute we walked into the house, and for once, I was grateful. I needed to think, and it was hard to do that when she was constantly smiling and pulling out her damn list.

I reached into the fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of pinot grigio.

"That's chick wine," Andi said from behind me.

"I've never understood that reference." I turned around and placed the wine on the table, while Andi went to the sideboard and pulled out two glasses.

"What reference?"

"Chicks. It sounds so… I don't know… surfer, a bit un-educated, maybe I'm just old."

Andi placed the glasses in front of me, her steps faltering a bit before she pulled up a barstool and leaned her elbows against the table. "Just how old are you?"

I smirked and began pouring the wine into her glass first. "I'm old enough to know that using the word
chick
makes me look like an ass."

"Wow. So over thirty, huh?"

I stopped pouring and glanced up at her. "Do I look that old?"

"Some say thirty is the new twenty." She yawned. "I'm not judging, just making conversation."

"Twenty-nine," I said smoothly.

"So thirty."

"What?"

"Twenty-nine is basically thirty, Sergio."

I handed her a glass. "How do you figure?"

"It's all downhill from twenty-nine, my friend. Achy bones, Viagra, and gray hair are your future." She took a sip of the wine; her face scrunched up then relaxed as if the little bit she had wasn't as bad as she'd expected. "It's probably a good thing I'm not going to be here to see it. Nobody wants to see a Viagra-popping Sergio."

"I don't want to see a Viagra-popping Sergio," I snapped. "And that won't ever happen."

"Don't say never."

"I said ever."

"Drink your wine so you stop arguing," I instructed, wagging my finger at her.

She shrugged and kept drinking. I tried not to focus on her bruised hands or the fact that there was some slight bruising on the side of her face, possibly from the fight we'd just finished.

"Andi…" I licked my lips and pulled out a barstool next to her. "…did you ever work for your father?"

"Which one?"

"The one who likes vodka."

She shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I always worked for the FBI as a double agent, so did I technically work for my real father? Yes, in a way, but only because I was pushed into it by the feds."

I nodded.

"Why?" She'd already finished her glass of wine and was slinking her hand toward mine.

I slid it backward and shook my head.

"No reason."

She reached farther behind me, her fingers securing the stem. "Sergio?"

"Andi?" I breathed; her face was inches from mine.

"I'm really tired…"

"I know."

"But…" She hopped off her barstool and stood between my legs, releasing my hostage wine glass and wrapping her arms around my neck. "I wouldn't mind working on twelve."

"Wouldn't it be thirteen?"

"Um, your car gave me thirteen."

"Damn machinery didn't give you what I can."

She leaned forward and tugged my ear with her teeth. "Care to wager on that?"

With a growl, I lifted her by the ass and carried her out of the kitchen.

****

We spent two days in bed.

And knocked off numbers, from thirteen down to four.

Andi started making tally marks with a black felt tip pen on the inside of her ribcage so she could match me. Her marks were for love; mine were for death. She thought it was hilarious; it just made me feel like a bit of a monster.

"We need to get up." Andi's naked body was sprawled against mine. "The guys keep texting you, and if we don't answer soon, they're going to send a search party."

I weaved my fingers through her tangled mess of blond hair. "Let them."

She let out a heavy sigh. "Sergio?"

"Yeah?"

The air all but got sucked out of the room. It felt like she was about to say something big, something that would alter or maybe steal the bit of happiness I'd been experiencing with her over the past few weeks.

"I'm sick."

My body tensed. "I know."

She ran her hands along my stomach; her cheek pressed against my chest. I was sure she could hear my erratic heartbeat. Shit, I really didn't want to talk about it.

"I missed another doctor's appointment."

I froze. "What? Why?"

"We were in bed, and I just… I wanted to pretend."

I kissed the top of her head. "Pretend what, Russia?"

"That it was real." She leaned up, her chin on my chest, her eyes filling with tears as they gazed into mine. "Just for a few hours I wanted to pretend that outside didn't exist. That it was just you and me. I'll never forget you… I want you to know that. You give me moments, moments where I don't remember I'm sick, moments where only we exist. They're like tiny presents sprinkled throughout my life."

"I wish it worked that way, Andi..." God above, I wished it worked that way. Where if we willed something enough to happen, it inevitably would. "…but you can't miss any more appointments, alright? I'll never forgive myself if something happened to you all because I wanted to keep you in bed a little bit longer, kiss you a little bit harder, make love to you deeper."

She leaned up and kissed my mouth softly. "Then we should probably go in sometime today."

I nodded.

She frowned.

"What is it?"

She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. "I'll miss you."

"Andi, you aren't going anywhere."

At least not for now.

Because we both knew that the odds were she was going somewhere. And I was staying.

Damn. I would do anything in my power — to follow.

Sergio

MY NERVES WERE SHOT. THEY WERE
able to fit us into the doctor the following day. It was the same hospital doing my lab work, so I inevitably asked if I could get the test done at the same time.

The plan was to have Andi go to her appointment with the girls so she could be cheered up, while I went and pretended to do something for Nixon.

Unfortunately, Nixon actually did need me for something; the listening device had picked up bits and pieces, but the words were fuzzy, which was really strange, considering I'd done a hell of a job actually making sure it worked in the first place. We argued over when I was going to stop by his house, but I ended up going to my appointment first, just in case I needed some extra hours to hide out and crash so Andi wouldn't be suspicious.