On The Run (2 page)

Robert chuckled. “I know, who cares what the weatherman says? You can feel it. You and your horses. They’re probably spooked too.”

“I’m not spooked. I like the rain.” She was watching Frankie cuing up through the glass window. “So does Frankie. Sometimes we go riding together in the rain.”

“Not me. I’m like a cat. I like to be dry and cozy inside a house when it’s wet.”

She smiled. He resembled more a bear than a cat, she thought. Robert was in his late forties, but he was big and burly, with close-cut dark hair and irregular features that included a humped nose that had been broken sometime in the past. She always told him that he looked more like a prizefighter than a martial-arts instructor. “Oh, I think you could survive a patch of rough weather. How’s your week gone, Robert? Any new customers?”

“A couple. You might have seen them when you came into the studio this afternoon. I was just finishing signing them up. Two boys whose truck-driver father thinks they should be as tough as he is.” He grimaced. “They wouldn’t have to learn much. You could take their papa with one hand tied behind your back. Hell, Frankie could probably make short work of him. No finesse. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t pull up stakes and go somewhere away from small-town rednecks and gossipmongers.”

“I thought you liked Tallanville.”

“I do. Most of the time. Slow living appeals to me. Just every now and then I get fed up.” His gaze shifted to Frankie. “Why don’t you bring her in tomorrow and let her show those boys a few moves.”

“Why should I do—” Her gaze narrowed on his face. “What’s this about, Robert?”

“Nothing.”

“Robert.”

He shrugged. “I just heard Papa asshole muttering to his sons after you drove up. Even after eight years in this town, they still talk about you and Frankie.”

“So?”

“I just don’t like it.”

“Frankie’s illegitimate, and even in this day and age there will always be someone who wants everyone to go by their own standards. Particularly in a small town like this. I explained that to Frankie and she understands.”

“I don’t. I want to punch someone.”

She smiled. “Me too. But the kids are much more open than their parents, and Frankie’s not hurting. Except for me.”

“I bet she wants to punch someone too.”

“She already did and I had to have a talk with her.” She shook her head. “So we’re not going to have Frankie beat up any of your clients just to make you feel better.”

“What about making you feel better?”

“Catering to ignorance and intolerance wouldn’t make me feel better. And it might make things difficult for Charlie. He can be very defensive and he’s not a young man. I’m not going to take a chance on him getting hurt.”

“He can hold his own. He’s a tough old bird.”

“He’s not going to have to hold his own. Not about me and Frankie. He’s done too much for us to have a payback like that.”

“It’s pretty even-steven. You’ve done a lot for him too.”

She shook her head. “He took me in and gave Frankie a home. All I did was work my rump off to keep the farm showing a profit. I would have done that anyway.”

“I don’t believe he has any regrets.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. “And what about you?”

He lifted his brows. “What?”

“You’ve spent eight years here. You said yourself that you have your moments when you’re fed up with small-town life.”

“I’d have my moments even if I lived in Paris or New York. Everyone has their time of discontent.”

“I don’t.”

“But then, you have Frankie.” He looked down at her. “And so do we. I’ve never regretted being sent here to watch out for you. For all of us that’s the bottom line. It’s all about Frankie, isn’t it?”

Frankie was putting up her pool stick, her face alight, her dark eyes glowing with laughter as she talked to Charlie.

“Yes,” Grace said softly. “It’s all about Frankie.”

H
ow about me driving you home, Charlie?” Robert opened Charlie’s car door. “You’re a little on the tipsy side.”

“I’m legal. I only had two drinks. I don’t need any young whippersnapper chauffeuring me.”

“Whippersnapper? You flatter me. I’m too close to the big five-O for comfort.” He grinned. “Come on. You may have had only two drinks but you were weaving a bit when you got up from the table. Let me drive you.”

“My truck knows the way home.” He made a face. “Like old Dobbin.” He started the engine. “If I’d beat you that last game, I might let you drive me home in style, but I reserve that right for our next session.” He smiled. “I was close this time. You’re going down next week.”

“Just be careful.”

“I’m always careful. I’ve got a lot to lose these days.” He tilted his head, listening. “Is that thunder?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Grace said it was going to rain tonight. How the hell does she know?”

Charlie shrugged. “She told me once she was a quarter Cherokee. Maybe it’s in the genes.” He waved as he backed out of the parking lot.

Robert hesitated, gazing after him. Charlie seemed to be driving okay and it was almost all back roads to his farm. He’d give him a call when he’d had time to get home, just to ease his own mind. He turned and started back toward his SUV.

It had been a good night and he was filled with warm contentment. Even if it hadn’t been a part of his job, he’d have enjoyed these evenings with Grace, Frankie, and Charlie. They were as close to family as he’d ever possessed. When he’d taken on this assignment, he’d never dreamed it would last this long, and now he’d be disappointed when it was over.

If it was ever over, he thought ruefully. He’d been told Grace Archer was too important for them to take a chance with her safety. The fact that they’d kept him here for eight years in this little Podunk of a town only underscored that fact.

Not that he’d take that chance even if she was considered dispensable by the agency. Grace had become a personal mission. He liked her, dammit. She was smart and strong and she never let anything get in the way when she was going after something. She was also one hell of an attractive woman. He was surprised that he found her appealing. He’d always liked cute, cuddly women, and his first wife had fallen dead center into that category. There was nothing cute or cuddly about Grace. She was tall, slim, and graceful, with curly, short chestnut hair that framed her face, big hazel eyes, full lips, and spare, elegant bone structure that was more interesting than conventionally pretty. Yet there was something about her confidence, quiet strength, and intelligence that turned him on. There had been times when he’d had to backpedal, but she was so completely absorbed by her daughter and the life she’d carved out at Charlie’s farm, he doubted if she’d even noticed.

Or maybe she had and chose to ignore it. He knew she liked being his friend, and she probably didn’t want to jeopardize that relationship for a less calm, volatile one. God knew her life had been volatile and violent enough before she came here. When he’d read her dossier, he’d had trouble connecting the Grace he knew with that woman. Well, except for the fact that she had little trouble putting him down during their workouts. She was strong and skilled and went for the jugular. Who knew? It could be that that hint of danger was why he found her so interesting.

He’d reached his SUV and he clicked the remote to unlock the door. It would take Charlie twenty minutes to get home. He’d give him another five minutes to get in the house and then call him and—

A large brown envelope was on the seat.

He stiffened. “Shit.” There was no question that he’d locked the SUV.

He glanced around the parking lot. No one suspicious. But whoever had put the envelope on the seat had had all evening to do it.

He slowly picked up the envelope, opened it, and took out the contents.

A photo of two white horses in profile.

Both horses had blue eyes.

M
om. May I come in?” Frankie stood in the doorway of Grace’s bedroom. “I can’t sleep.”

“Sure.” Grace sat up and patted the bed next to her. “What’s wrong? Stomachache? I told you not to eat that last piece of pizza.”

“No.” Frankie was cuddling underneath the covers. “I was just lonesome.”

Grace put her arm around her. “Then I’m glad you came. Being lonely hurts.”

“Yeah.” Frankie was silent a moment. “I was thinking maybe you probably get lonesome too sometimes.”

“When you’re not around.”

“No, I mean what about all that love and marriage and stuff on TV? Do I get in the way?”

“You’re never in the way.” She chuckled. “And I promise I’m not missing all that ‘stuff.’ I’m too busy.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.” She brushed her lips across Frankie’s temple. “This is enough, baby. What I have with you and Charlie makes me very, very happy.”

“Me too.” Frankie yawned. “I just wanted to let you know that I wouldn’t mind if you decided that you—”

“Go to sleep. I have a two-year-old to break tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She nestled closer. “I heard the music again. I’m going to get up early and try to play it on the piano.”

“Something new?”

She yawned again. “Mm-hmm. It’s just a whisper now but it will get louder.”

“When you’re ready, I’d love to hear it.”

“Uh-huh. But it’s just a whisper. . . .”

She was asleep.

Grace moved carefully to shift her so that she was lying more comfortably on the pillow. She should send her back to her bed, but she wasn’t going to do it. Frankie was so independent, she seldom came to Grace to be cuddled anymore, and she was going to enjoy this. There was nothing more endearing than the soft, warm weight of a beloved child.

And God knew there was no child more beloved than this child in her arms.

It was odd that Frankie had started worrying about Grace’s solitary status. Or maybe not so odd. Frankie was older than her years and extremely sensitive. Grace hoped she’d convinced her that this life at the farm was enough for her. She’d told her the truth. She kept herself so busy that there was no room for worrying about sex or any other intimate relationship. Even if a relationship hadn’t posed a threat, she was not about to be pulled down into that whirlpool of sensuality that had almost destroyed her. When she had conceived Frankie, she was totally immersed in a physical obsession that had made her forget everything she should have remembered. That couldn’t ever happen again. She owed it to Frankie to keep a cool head.

The rain was pounding against the window and the rhythmic sound only added to the sweetness that was enveloping her. She wanted it to go on and on. To hell with the horse she had to break tomorrow. She was going to lie here with Frankie and savor this moment.

W
hat the hell is it?” Robert asked when he got through to Les North in Washington. “Horses? This county is full of them, but no one’s ever seen fit to break into my car and put a photo of them on my seat.”

“Blue eyes?”

“Both of them. What is it—”

“Get out to the farm, Blockman. Check and see if everything’s okay.”

“And wake her up? I just saw her and the kid tonight. They’re fine. It could just be some practical joke. I’m not the most popular person in this town. I’m not a Southern Baptist and I have nothing to do with horses, their feeding or well-being. That guarantees I’ll stay an outsider.”

“It’s not a joke. And it’s not one of your neighbors down there. Get out there. Try not to scare her, but make sure the place is secure.”

“I’ll call Charlie on his cell phone and make sure everything’s okay.” Robert was silent a moment. “This is serious stuff, isn’t it? Are you going to tell me why you’re bent out of shape?”

“You’re damn right it’s serious. This may be the reason you’ve been parked on her doorstep all these years. Get out there and earn your salary.”

“I’m on my way.” Robert hung up.

N
orth pressed the disconnect and sat there thinking.

Warning? Probably. And if it was a warning, who had given it?

Kilmer.

He muttered a curse. Kilmer surfacing after all these years was the worst-case scenario. They’d made a deal, dammit. He couldn’t show up and throw the setup into chaos. If there was a problem, Blockman could handle it.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe he wasn’t in Tallanville. Maybe he’d hired someone to leave the photo.

And pigs could fly. Even if that warning hadn’t been delivered in person, he wasn’t a man who’d let anyone else handle a dangerous situation that concerned Grace Archer.

He had no choice but to call Bill Crane, his superior, and tell him Kilmer was probably back on the scene. Hell, Crane was one of the new wonder boys who’d been brought in after 9/11. He’d bet Crane didn’t even know Kilmer existed.

Well, he was about to learn. North wasn’t going to handle this hot potato by himself. Wake the wonder boy up and make him see what he could do with Kilmer.

He quickly dialed the number and waited with malicious satisfaction for the ringing to jar Crane from sleep.

2
                                                                                                                                       

T
he tires of Charlie’s truck rattled the loose wooden slats of the old bridge as he started across the river. He’d been meaning to fix those slats. . . .

Almost home.

Charlie turned the radio up as a Reba McEntire song came on. He’d always liked her. Pretty lady. Pretty voice. Maybe country music wasn’t as deep as the stuff Frankie wrote, but it made him feel comfortable. No reason why he couldn’t like both.

The rain was splashing hard against the windshield and he turned the wipers on full blast. He didn’t need to cope with rain as well as being tipsy. Getting old sucked. Two drinks and he was woozy. He used to be able to drink all his buddies under the table and still be clearheaded enough to—

His cell phone rang, and it took a minute to get it out of his pocket. Robert. He shook his head and smiled as he punched the button. “I’m fine. I’m almost home and I’ll thank you to not treat me like a doddering—”

Something was on the road directly ahead.

Light!

G
race was still not sleeping when her cell phone rang on the bedside table.

Charlie? She hadn’t heard his truck and he sometimes stayed with Robert if he drank too much.

“Mom?” Frankie murmured drowsily.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay.” She reached over her daughter and picked up the phone. “Charlie?”

“Get out of there, Grace.”

Robert.

She sat bolt upright in bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. And there’s no time to explain. North told me to come out there, and I’m on my way. But I might be too late. Get out of there.”

“Charlie?”

He was silent a moment. “He was on his way home. I talked to him a few minutes ago. I lost him. I think something happened.”

“What? Then I have to go find—”

“I’ll find him. You get yourself and Frankie out of there.”

“What’s wrong?” Frankie was sitting up in bed. “Is Charlie okay?”

Oh, God, she hoped so, but she had to trust Robert. She had to take care of Frankie. “You find him, Robert. And if you’re having me take Frankie out in this storm for no reason, I’m going to strangle you.”

“I hope there’s no reason. Keep in touch.” Robert hung up.

“Charlie?” Frankie whispered.

“I don’t know, baby.” She flung off the covers. “Go to your room and get your tennis shoes. Don’t turn on the light and don’t bother getting dressed. We’ll grab a rain poncho in the mudroom downstairs.”

“Why am I—”

“Frankie, don’t ask questions. We don’t have time. Just trust me and do what I tell you. Okay?”

Frankie hesitated. “Okay.” She jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. “I’ll be quick.”

Bless her. Most kids jarred from sleep in the middle of the night would have been too scared to even function.

Grace went to the closet and pulled out her knapsack from the top shelf. She’d packed this knapsack eight years ago and updated the contents periodically. She hoped the clothes she’d packed for Frankie would still fit. . . .

She was unfastening the lockbox she’d put in the knapsack when Frankie ran back in the room. “Good. You were very quick. Go to the window and see if it’s still raining so hard.”

While Frankie was crossing the room, Grace took out the gun and dagger. She quickly stuffed them and the papers she’d placed in the box eight years ago in the front pocket of the knapsack, where they were readily available.

“Maybe the rain’s a little lighter.” Frankie was looking out the window. “But it’s so dark it’s hard to see— Oh, there’s someone with a flashlight coming across the yard. Do you think it’s Charlie?”

It wasn’t Charlie. Charlie knew every inch of his farm and wouldn’t need a flashlight. “Come on, baby.” She grabbed her arm and pulled her down the stairs. “We’re going out the kitchen door. Be very quiet.”

A sound of metal on metal at the front door. She inhaled sharply. She had jimmied too many locks herself not to know that sound.

She had changed Charlie’s flimsy locks when she came here, but it wouldn’t take an expert long to break in. And if they couldn’t force the lock, then they’d find another way.

“Out,” she whispered, and pushed Frankie toward the kitchen.

Frankie flew down the hall and threw open the kitchen door. She looked back at Grace, her eyes wide. “Robbers?” she whispered.

Grace nodded as she grabbed a rain poncho for Frankie from the mudroom hooks, threw it to her, and then grabbed one for herself. “And there might be more than one. Head for the paddock and then the woods on the other side. If I’m not right behind, don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up.”

Frankie was shaking her head.

“Don’t say no to me,” Grace said. “What have I always taught you? You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of others. Now do what I say.”

Frankie hesitated.

Christ, Grace could hear the creak of the front door as it opened. “Run!”

Frankie ran, streaking across the yard and into the paddock. Grace watched for a second, waiting. There was almost always a lookout man.

She didn’t have to wait long. A tall man had come around the house and was running after Frankie.

She took off after him.

No gun. She didn’t want to bring the others in the house out here.

Run. The rain and thunder would mask the sound of her footsteps behind him.

She reached him as he entered the woods.

He must have heard the sound of her breathing. He whirled, gun in hand.

She sprang, the side of her hand numbing the wrist of his gun hand. Then her dagger sliced across his jugular. She didn’t watch him fall to the ground. She turned, searching the shadows. “Frankie?”

She heard a low sobbing. Frankie was huddled at the base of a tree a short distance away. “It’s okay, baby. He can’t hurt you now.” Grace fell to her knees beside her. “But we have to leave. We have to run. There are others.”

Frankie’s hand reached out and touched a smear on Grace’s poncho. “Blood. There’s blood . . . on you.”

“Yes. He would have hurt you. He would have hurt both of us. I had to stop him.”

“Blood . . .”

“Frankie . . .” She stiffened as she heard a shout from across the paddock. She stood up and pulled Frankie with her. “I’ll talk to you about it later. They’re coming. Now do what I say and
run
. Let’s go.”

She half-pulled Frankie deeper into the woods. After only a few steps Frankie was running, stumbling with her through the brush.

Where to hide? She had scoped out and planned bolt-holes in these woods over the years. Choose one.

She couldn’t count on Frankie being able to keep this pace for long. She was a child and almost in shock. Grace had to find a close place to hide and wait them out. Robert was on his way.

Or at least find a way to hide Frankie. She could decide after she saw how many were after her whether she could handle the situation alone.

The blind.

Charlie had a hunting blind in a tree not far from here. He hadn’t used it for years, claiming he couldn’t climb the damn tree anymore.

Well, she could climb. And Frankie was as agile as a monkey.

“The blind,” she gasped. “Get to the blind, Frankie. Hide there.”

“Not without you.”

“I’m coming.”

Frankie glared back at her. “Now.”

“Okay, now.” Grace grabbed her hand and tore through the underbrush. The wet foliage slapped her in the face and her tennis shoes sank deep in the mud with every step.

She listened. Could she hear them?

Yes, but she couldn’t tell where they were.

Flashlights.

Christ.

The blind was just up ahead. She put on speed and reached the tree. “Up,” she whispered, and gave Frankie a boost. Frankie was halfway up the tree when Grace started. Her daughter crawled out on the branch holding the blind a moment later.

Grace joined her in seconds and pulled her down flat on the wooden platform. “Quiet. In a hunt like this no one expects you to be above them. They’re focused on straight ahead.” The rain was making a slapping noise on the camouflage drape. It was different from the sound of the rain on the leaves, she realized. It would be a dead giveaway. She jerked the drape down.

She hoped she was telling the truth about them not looking up. It was generally a fact, but who knew how experienced the leader of this particular team was? “Keep down,” she repeated. She could feel Frankie trembling with fear against her.

Damn them. Damn them to hell.

Grace drew Frankie closer as she pulled the gun out of the pocket of her poncho.

The men were calling back and forth to one another as they searched the brush. They weren’t afraid she’d hear them. She and Frankie were the prey, the hunted. She listened. At least three different voices. If there were no more than that, then they wouldn’t be impossible targets. She knew these woods and they didn’t, and they wouldn’t expect—

But she couldn’t leave Frankie.

And one of the men was now directly below the tree with their blind.

She held her breath. Her hand covered Frankie’s lips.

The beam of his flashlight was skimming the mud, looking for footprints.

She aimed the gun at his head. He was on the wrong side of the tree, but if he moved a few feet to the left he’d see the place where they’d climbed—

An explosion shook the earth.

“What the hell!” The man below her whirled in the direction of the farm. “What the devil was—”

“The car. I think it was the car, Kersoff.” Another man had run up to stand beside the one below their tree. “I saw a flash and fire and it came from down the road where we left the car. Maybe the gas tank.”

“That bitch. How did she get out of these woods?”

“How did she kill Jennet?” he asked. “You warned us she wouldn’t be easy. He’s not going to like—”

“Shut up.” Kersoff turned away and started toward the paddock. “If she blew up our car, she can’t be that far away. She’s probably trying to get to her own car now. We can block the road and wait for her. Locke! Where are you? Have you seen Locke?”

“Not for a couple minutes. Shall I look—”

“No, we have to get to the road. Move.”

A moment later the sound of their passage through the brush faded.

Frankie was turning her head to escape Grace’s hand on her lips. Grace moved it but whispered, “It’s still not safe. We don’t know where that other man is, baby.” She listened.

No sound but the rain on the leaves.

And when they didn’t find them back at the farm, they might come back and begin to search the woods again.

“I’m going down to look around. You stay here and wait until I come back for you.”

Frankie was violently shaking her head.

“Yes,” Grace said firmly. “You can’t help. You might hinder. Now, stay here and be quiet.” She was already climbing down the tree. “It shouldn’t take long.”

She heard a stifled sob, but Frankie wasn’t trying to follow her, she realized with relief.

She moved quietly through the brush.

As quietly as she could, pushing through this wet brush and mud sucking at her shoes, she thought bitterly. But if the missing Locke heard her, she should be able to hear him.

She stopped. Listened. Moved on.

Two minutes later she saw him.

A small man lying on the ground, half-pushed beneath a bush. His eyes were open and the rain was falling on a face twisted in a death rictus.

Locke?

She could only guess at his identity. She could make no guess on who had taken him out and destroyed that car.

Or maybe she could.

Robert had promised her he was on his way.

So grab the chance he’d given her and get Frankie away from the farm.

Where?

Baker’s Horse Farm was five miles from here. She’d follow the woods until she was a few miles from the farm and then hit the road. She could hide in the barn at Baker’s place until she could contact Robert.

She turned and ran back toward the blind.

S
he caught glimpses of the burning car on the road as she and Frankie ran through the woods. No sign of the bastards who had driven it.

“Mom.” Frankie’s breath was coming in gasps. “Why?”

Why had her life been turned upside down? Why had she been forced to witness her mother killing another human being? Why was she being hunted like an animal?

“I’ll talk to you later— I can’t— I’m sorry, baby. I’ll try to make it right.” They had reached the curve of the road that couldn’t be seen from the farm. Grace glanced both ways. No one. “Come on. We can travel quicker on the road. We have to move fast and—”

Headlights were suddenly bearing down on them.

She reached for her gun and pushed Frankie to the side of the road. Grace followed her, fell flat, and lifted the gun, trying to see past the glare of lights to get a good shot.

The car was stopping. “It’s okay, Grace.”

She froze. She couldn’t see the driver, but God help her, she knew that voice.

Kilmer.

“Get in. I’ll make sure you’re safe now.”

She closed her eyes. Get over the shock. She’d always known it would happen. “The hell you will.” She opened her eyes to see him kneeling beside her. The headlights were behind him and she couldn’t make out anything but an outline. She didn’t need to see him; she knew every line of his body, every feature of his face. “Your fault. This is all your fault, isn’t it?”

“Get in the car. I have to get you out of here.” He turned to Frankie. “Hello, Frankie. I’m Jake Kilmer. I’m here to help you, and I promise no one will hurt you as long as I’m here.”

Frankie shrank closer to Grace.

Kilmer turned back to Grace. “Are you going to let her stay there in the mud or are you going to let me take care of her? I’m not the threat here.”

No, he wasn’t. Not the immediate threat. But Kilmer was more dangerous than—

Kilmer stood up. “I’m going to get back in the car. I’ll wait two minutes and then I’m leaving. Make up your mind.”

He’d do it. Kilmer always did what he said he was going to do. That was one of the things that had drawn her to—