Morgan Read online

  A few seconds later, the window slid back up and the truck moved on. Slowly at first, and then with a burst of speed as it neared the next bend.

  Gage continued to wait, but the sound of the engine simply faded into the night. Interesting. He grimaced as he stood and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. Disaster averted or not?

  He took two steps and gave his knee an experimental flex. It hurt like hell, but nothing was broken. He’d be good to go for a few miles.

  Raising the comm link to his mouth, he started across the road. “You there, Snowbird? Say yes, and make my night.”

  “I’m somewhere,” she replied. “But please don’t ask me to describe my surroundings. I landed on my flashlight and broke the case.”

  “Never buy plastic.” He regarded the screen. “I’ve got your position. You’re due east of me. It shouldn’t take long to— Shit!”

  “What? Shit what? Gage?”

  He ducked behind a large stump. “Truck’s coming back.”

  “Does that mean they are Fixx’s men?”

  “It’s a good bet.” Gage stayed low. “Don’t move,” he said. “Leave your link on. I’ll find you.”

  Could still be poachers, but he doubted it. More likely, Amber had been spotted and followed to the amusement park. Unless someone had tapped into Tom Vigor’s phone line. Someone who knew Tom’s list of codes…

  There were suspects within the US Marshals office ,a half dozen or more. McCabe knew about them, and so did Gage. Knew their names at any rate, as well as where they worked and why they were suspected. Unfortunately, there was no evidence to support those suspicions.

  In Gage’s opinion, it wasn’t a turncoat US Marshal in the returning truck. Fixx would have sent his own people to deal with this problem. And those people would be armed to the teeth.

  Fuck life and his own susceptibility. He could have been home, listening to the King and getting quietly drunk. Or playing poker with a couple of cops on the Memphis force. Barring those things, Mary Ellen was usually up for a round of dinner and sex… And why in God’s name should the thought of sex with Mary Ellen pale now that he’d met Amber Kelly?

  Gage swore long and hard when he stepped in a rut and twisted his bad knee. Screw it. McCabe deserved to burn in hell for inflicting this assignment on him.

  He raised his comm link. “I’m coming up behind you, Amber. Don’t freak.”

  “I never freak.” She materialized next to him and nodded at the base of a sprawling beech tree. “I left my link over there. I’ve learned to be paranoid.”

  He spotted the outline of her backpack. With an ironic smile, he let the memory of Mary Ellen fade even further into the background. “Paranoid’s good. Odds are eighty-twenty those are Fixx’s bloodhounds back there. Does he have any favorites on his payroll?”

  “Not that I know of. I saw a man with a missing finger once. Or part of a missing finger.”

  Grinning, Gage grabbed her pack. “Hell, honey, you saw Mockerie.”

  “I did not.” She stared in astonishment. “Long hair, worn-out hat, faded jeans, old cowboy boots, still shy of forty… That’s James Mockerie?”

  “Yep. The hat hides his face.” Gage pulled a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. “He has a scar that runs from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, and a crushed left cheekbone that didn’t heal properly.”

  “I think I saw part of the scar.” After tying her hair back into a sleek ponytail, Amber swung the pack onto her shoulder and pocketed her comm link. “I missed the crushed cheekbone. I only got a quick glimpse.” She used her index fingers to point in opposite directions. “Which way?”

  “South, and picking up the pace wouldn’t hurt.”

  “You’re limping,” she noted.

  “Rock and roll, Snowbird. It’s been a while since I’ve jumped from a moving vehicle. Last time I did, I came away without a scratch. My partner wasn’t so lucky.” And why the fuck had he gone there? “It was a long time ago,” he said with a shrug. Too bad a long time ago would always be yesterday for him. “It’s tricky terrain. Stay ahead of me and keep your eyes on the ground. I’ll watch for predators.”

  She turned to study him. “You’re a man of mystery, Gage Morgan. I’m not sure I like it, but I can live with it—for a while.”

  “Yeah?” He trapped her chin with his hand before she could evade him, ran his thumb lightly along the curve of her jaw. Something inside him shifted when he looked into her eyes. Unwilling to examine what it might be, he let his hand drop. “Okay, let’s just back that last part up a bit. You’re not thinking of trying to ditch me, are you?”

  Her answering gaze was direct and unflinching, and, dammit, it almost had his thoughts slipping sideways again to a woman named Lydia and a time he desperately wanted to forget. Not that that time and this were related in any way. Amber was waking feelings he’d assumed were dead. One touch and he wanted more. A moment away from the madness, a good long taste of her incredible mouth, a night of wild, uncontrolled— Whoa. Back off, he ordered himself. Where the hell had all that come from? And what was she saying to him now?

  She sighed, glanced away. “Any potential ditching will depend on what you expect me to do. I want my sister back safe and unharmed before Fixx gets ahold of her.”

  Gage swung the flashlight beam around. “You don’t think Fixx would understand why she went into hiding?”

  Amber’s eyes glittered, but her expression didn’t alter. “I think he’d understand just fine about the hiding part. It’s the divorce that will have sent him over the edge. I’m not sure who made it happen or how they pulled it off, but I dug into his affairs, Gage. His business and his personal affairs. Owen Fixx had three wives before he married Rachel. All three of those wives wanted to divorce him. And all three of them died before they could.”

  Gage knew precisely where this was going, but he wanted to hear her say it.

  Amber looked westward. “Owen Fixx is a coldblooded killer. He’s a man who deals in illegal weapons and drugs. He’s also completely insane.”

  …

  They walked in silence for some time after that. Amber had no idea where they were going, but she assumed Gage had a plan in mind.

  She wondered if her story about Fixx had sounded melodramatic. Or maybe Gage simply had no reply for it. In any case, she welcomed the break. It gave her time to collect her thoughts and gear down from an intensity level that wasn’t her normal state.

  He’d touched her, and for a moment, the danger around her dissolved. It had been a very, very long time since any man had moved her. Why now?

  “I used to be calm no matter what happened.” Deliberately moving away from him, she turned a small circle as she walked. The woods had thickened considerably, and the ground underfoot felt increasingly treacherous. “Never got ruffled, never worried about things I couldn’t control.”

  “You dealt.” Gage checked out the path with his flashlight, then switched it off and threw the woods back into murky black shadow.

  “For the most part, I liked managing Fixx’s hotel. The facilities were amazing, the staff was great, the guests were mostly happy. Fixx was an asshole, but I worked around that. Uh…” She pointed at a movement between the trees. “Please say not a bear.”

  He used the flashlight again. “Deer. I think.”

  She summoned a serene smile. “Are you always this reassuring?”

  “I’m making a special effort in your case.”

  Amber couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Okay, so, are we still going to Hidden Valley, or has the destination changed?”

  “Destination’s the same, but we’ll need a vehicle.”

  “Meaning we what? Hijack one? Because I doubt you planted a second truck, and mine’s…” She waved a hand behind them. “Not accessible.”

  “There’s a town about a mile west of here. It’s called Halo. It’s just off a north-south highway.”

  “Which is good because?”

  “Plenty of tour
ist traffic. We won’t stand out.”

  “We will if the people after us—well, me—happen to be in the vicinity.”

  “Would you recognize them if they were?”

  “Probably not. Fixx has a deep pool of muscle and fire power. He pays well,” she explained. “Bad guys with skills like that.”

  “Good guys with skills don’t mind it, either.”

  “Long as they stay good and don’t switch sides.” Because to doubt Gage’s character was to invite the terror she’d been living with since Rachel had disappeared back again. She glanced up as an owl hooted high in a tall pine to her left. “Do you know someone in Halo?”

  “In a way,” was all he said.

  Amber left it alone. Her body was bruised and scraped, her head hurt, and her thoughts were far too tangled to straighten them out. Better to keep her eyes open, let him take the lead, and see where she wound up.

  Half a mile farther on, the woods thinned and small houses began to appear. Mostly they were shacks and trailers that had settled at odd angles in the mud. Any vehicles she spotted were up on blocks or too old and rusty to be drivable.

  Gage grinned in profile. “Never judge a book, Snowbird.”

  “I wasn’t,” she said, then frowned at what looked like an old boxcar with windows cut in the side. “Okay, maybe I was. A little. But a truck with working doors would be a definite advantage.”

  “We only need to make it to Hidden Valley.”

  “Which is how far from here?”

  “Less than a hundred miles.”

  “Practically walking distance.”

  “You’ve obviously never lived in L.A.”

  “I’ve visited. Didn’t consider going from place to place on foot.” Her frown deepened. “Seriously, Gage. We’re not going to steal one of these deathtraps on wheels, are we?”

  “Wouldn’t be my first choice.”

  A cluster of lights came into view, possibly with a street between them. Amber heard music above the sounds of frogs and crickets. Sucking up her uncertainty, she hitched her pack higher. “Is the idea for us to stroll through town like casual tourists?”

  “Not exactly. Do you have a cap with a visor?”

  “Yes, but that won’t disguise – ”

  “It will if you stick to the shadows. And there’ll be plenty of those in the local bar. Servers’ll be young and pretty. You won’t get a second look.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Gage chuckled. “Nothing personal, but low tops and push up bras tend to draw a man’s eye.”

  “Right. In we go.”

  The music, a twangy mix of country and blues, grew louder. Smoke drifted out of a barely lit building that stood apart from the others on the street. Everything appeared old, saggy, and tired, even in the dark. Trucks were parked helter-skelter near a sidewalk that was little more than a strip of raised wooden slats.

  They passed a pair of teenagers, busy making out in the alley next to the bar. The girl, she reflected, could have been Rachel seven or eight years ago. Or Amber right now…

  Jesus, where had that come from? She wasn’t going to do this. Gorgeous or not, Gage Morgan was off-limits. She needed to focus on staying alive and finding her sister.

  Blocking the provocative mental image, she poked Gage’s back. “Why are we going inside? Trucks are out here.”

  “Curiosity.” Gage looked up and down the street. “Knew it,” he said, then took Amber’s arm before she could ask. “Stay behind me and stick to the shadows.”

  She was tempted to offer a salute, but it was hardly the time. Instead, she tugged the cap she’d dug from her pack lower and followed him through the door.

  Straight into Merle Haggard’s backwoods garage. At least that’s how it felt on the surface. Good old boys sat around a motley collection of tables while a Merle wannabe across the room did his best to imitate the original. The bartender, a tall, bone rack of a man, could have been a close cousin to Paulie Murkle. In front of him, sashaying between tables and bystanders, a pair of young women who’d squeezed themselves into skintight jeans and shirts made for twelve-year-old boys kept the beer and whiskey flowing.

  It made the place she’d had in Black Creek look like a Nashville palace.

  Gage stayed close to the outer walls. His gaze, Amber noted, never stopped moving. Until it landed on a pair of men at a table near the back of the room.

  “Yeah, you just keep right on sizing up the staff,” he said softly.

  Amber squinted at the men. “Do you recognize them?”

  “I know the type. Question is, do either of them look familiar to you?”

  “No. Well…” She took a second, longer look as one of the pair lit a cigarette. “Maybe. The guy on the left. The twisty ring, and the buzzcut. I’m not sure.”

  “What about the other guy?”

  “No.”

  “Good enough. Our work here’s done.”

  “Simple as that? I thought we’d be… Ah, hello.” She stared up, way up from the wall of male chest that had materialized in front of her.

  “Dance.” The man to whom the chest belonged grabbed her arm.

  Gage kept his smile easy. “Lady’s with me, pal. Let her go or say good-bye to a few vital parts.”

  The man’s heavily whiskered grin was wide and drunkenly anticipatory. “Hell, I’ve swatted June bugs bigger’n you.”

  “Yeah? Any of those June bugs carry a Glock?”

  Confusion had the grin fading. “You got a clock?”

  “He means a gun.” Amber willed her heart rate down. Big and dumb were no match for a cop with a weapon. She hoped.

  Irritation took over, and the man jerked on her arm. “Asshole pulls a gun on me, I don’t swat. I squash. Dance,” he growled again.

  Amber heard a click from below.

  “You got balls, big guy.” Gage kept his voice level and his eyes on the tables ahead. “You want to keep them, you let the lady go, walk over to the bar, and order another drink.”

  Amber held her breath while the man wrestled with his drunken pride. Finally, he snorted. “Hell, ain’t no bitch worth losing Tom, Dick, and Harry. Rather have whiskey anyway.”

  He shoved Amber for show before turning toward the bar.

  “Shit,” Gage said under his breath.

  A split second later, Amber understood why. The man whipped around so fast she almost missed the motion. Her backpack went flying as Gage knocked her aside, avoided the worst of a straight-armed blow, and shouted something she couldn’t hear above the sudden scrape of a dozen chairs. Someone whistled, someone else hooted, and one of the servers let out a shrill scream.

  On her butt with her head spinning, Amber struggled to make sense of the sudden eruption of motion in front of her.

  Gun, she thought hazily. There was one in her pack—assuming she could find it.

  She located Gage’s pack near the wall. He’d have a spare inside, right? Cops were always armed to the teeth.

  She opened the flap and rummaged inside. A shot rang out, followed by another series of screams. When a pair of hands yanked her to her feet, she grabbed a long, heavy object, pulled it out, and swung it around in an arc.

  The person who’d hauled her upright swore. Realizing she had a flashlight, Amber switched it on and shone it into a pair of flinty eyes.

  It was the man with the twisted ring and the buzzcut. His lips peeled back as he lunged forward. She saw blood on his cheek and something in his eyes that made her breath ball like ice in her throat.

  When he lunged again, she stumbled backward. He’d have caught her if his feet hadn’t gotten tangled up in Gage’s pack. He went down hard and struck his head.

  Amber didn’t hesitate. On her knees, she found her own bag and searched the room for Gage.

  What she saw through the smoke and falling bodies were the two servers yanking each other’s hair, the Merle wannabe plastered to a wall holding his guitar like a shield, and every other man in the place throwing punches at anyone who stagg
ered past.

  Seriously?

  “Go.” She didn’t realize Gage had come up behind her until he lifted her to her feet and pushed. “Thirty seconds and they’re on us.”

  “Who…” she began, then stopped and ran for the door.

  “This way.” Outside, he swung his pack up and nodded toward a dark truck with monster size tires. “Up and in, Snowbird.”

  She crawled over the console and dropped down on the passenger seat. No key, she realized. But Gage had that covered. He yanked a handful of wires from under the dash and quickly made the connection.

  “I heard gunshots.” She pivoted, tried to look everywhere at once. “Did you shoot the guy who hit you?”

  “Nope, I left him trading punches with the man you didn’t recognize. Hold on.”

  She braced while he swung the wheel and fishtailed away from the curb. Even so, her back and shoulder slammed into the door.

  “Is this—ouch—their truck, the one that was following us?”

  “Was theirs. Now it’s ours.”

  “You know that won’t stop them.”

  “I never figured it would. The bar fight’ll slow them down some.”

  “While we drive a hundred miles in a stolen truck?”

  “Pretty sure we won’t be going that far. At least not right away.”

  “Why—ouch—not? Shit!” She had to use her hands and feet to stay in her seat.

  She couldn’t have said what drew her gaze over and down when he took the next corner, or why she noticed the wet stain on his T-shirt. But she did, and her heart gave a stuttering double beat. “That’s blood.” Her eyes snapped up as fear rushed in. “My God, you’ve been shot!”

  Chapter Six

  They had to stop. Logic and the steady trickle of blood flowing from his side demanded it. Gage had no idea if the bullet had passed right through or lodged itself somewhere between his ribs. All he knew was that the pain was a bitch and he was going to plant his fist in McCabe’s face next time they met. If they met. Which wasn’t where he wanted to go at this point.

  “Head’s starting to spin, Amber.” He used his mirrors to check the road behind them. “You have to drive. I’ll give you directions.”