Part 11 (1/2)

”Not yet.” He repositioned himself on the torn fabric bench seat and wished like h.e.l.l they had a Hummer like the bad-a.s.ses behind them. Just his luck to get stuck in a rusted-out, beat-to-h.e.l.l-and-back pickup. ”I think I shot out at least one, maybe two tires on that big rig. We've got a bit of a head start. But they'll be coming.”

Dawn was just rising over the hills. He figured they had fifteen minutes, maybe less if she didn't pick up her pace on these snowy back roads. ”Speaking of which. How do you think they found us?”

She shook her head but stayed focused on the road. ”I don't know. We had a run-in with them outside the pir-” She stopped abruptly and pursed her lips. ”Your girlfriend's apartment.”

His brow lowered. And though he couldn't quite make sense of the scenes popping through his mind, he had a vague recollection of being in an alley, wrestling with someone who looked suspiciously like Busir. Then being shocked into stupor by Kat's presence.

He reached a hand up to run fingers over his bruised eye. ”A run-in, huh? Was this before or after you drugged me?”

”Before. And I didn't drug you. They did. I just made sure they didn't take you with them. Their interrogation techniques aren't pretty.”

She wouldn't look at him, and the sickness sliding across her features struck him as completely at odds with the tough-as-nails liar he'd pegged her as earlier. When he'd come to in Slade's garage apartment, he'd been so focused on what the h.e.l.l she'd done to him that he hadn't stopped to wonder how she'd actually gotten him all the way to Pennsylvania in the first place. Was it possible she'd somehow saved him from a much worse fate?

What exactly had she witnessed in that tomb? What had Busir and his crony really done to her roommate?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Because if it was as bad as he was starting to envision, it gave her a d.a.m.n good reason for disappearing into thin air for six years.

”How far to the nearest town?” he asked instead.

”Eight miles, maybe more. But there's nothing there. A gas station. A store. Both of which will be closed this early in the morning, especially after a storm like last night's.”

Just what he was hoping for. He glanced back over his shoulder. Still no sign of Busir. He figured that had to be a plus, all things considered.

”Where'd you learn to drive like that?”

She seemed surprised by the question, which made him realize it was the first time he'd asked anything personal about her in the hours they'd been locked up together.

”Upstate New York. You either stay locked in your house six months out of the year or learn to drive in snow. Since I tend to go stir-crazy indoors, I learned how to drive in the snow.”

So that was where she'd been hiding. And why she'd so easily shown up at the auction in New York City.

”Where'd you learn to shoot like that?” she asked a few minutes later.

He glanced sideways across the seat. The early-morning glow illuminated her profile. He still did a double-take when he saw her with that short black hair, but her face was just as he remembered. As if she hadn't aged a day beyond the twenty-five she'd been when he'd known her.

A heavy tingling started low in his stomach and inched its way south. He stiffened and s.h.i.+fted the Glock to his other thigh, palming the cool metal in the process to give his body a different sensation to focus on. ”Good skill to have in my line of work.”

He glanced out the window at the sun rising slowly over the white-covered hills and told himself he didn't care about her reaction.

She kept her eyes on the road as she made the sharp S-turn, but he heard her mumble, ”Job security.”

He looked her way again. And thought about the kind of men he'd dealt with before he'd met her.

She had no idea about job security and what he'd done.

Silence filled the cab. He propped an elbow on the windowsill and ran his hand over his mouth, contemplating what she'd say if he told her.

Then frowned. She wouldn't say anything. Even after their steamy months together, after everything he thought he'd meant to her, he knew she wouldn't care. And why should she? If her story was at all close to the truth, she had every reason to hate his guts.

The truck rounded a bend, and the small town of Keeneyville came into view. As Kat drove down the main street, he sat up straighter and refocused on the here and now.

Like she'd mentioned earlier, the downtown consisted of nothing more than a smattering of homes, a two-tank gas station with a flapping green-and-white sign advertising overinflated prices and a hole-in-the-wall market where the locals probably bought beer and cigarettes and gossiped about the local high school football team like they were the Super Bowl champs. There were no people milling around at this early hour, no other cars on the road for that matter either. The one stoplight in town was blowing gently in the wind and flas.h.i.+ng yellow as if the power had gone out during the storm.

”Turn in there.”

Kat's eyes widened, but she didn't question him, simply pulled into the lot behind the market and parked next to a blue, early-90s Pathfinder covered in snow. Pete popped the truck's door before she came to a complete stop.

”Hold on, Pete. You're blee-”

He hopped out before she finished her statement, the too-small boots crunching in the snow as he moved. A quick glance in the pa.s.senger window confirmed there were no keys, but no alarm either.

He looked down for a rock to smash in the window as he walked around the vehicle but couldn't see anything useful through the snow that filled the lot. When he reached the driver's side, he lifted the door handle on the off chance whoever had left this POS here had forgotten to lock it. And wouldn't you know it, the d.a.m.n door pulled open.

Maybe things were looking up for him after all.

He'd just slid into the Pathfinder and leaned down to look under the steering column when he heard footsteps scuffing across the snow, followed by Kat's surprised voice.

”What are you doing?”

He popped the panel, found the two wires he figured were the right ones and pulled. ”Saving my a.s.s,” he said as he sat up. ”Your friends back there are going to be looking for a rusted-out Ford. Not a beat-up Nissan.”

He used his fingernail to strip the wires, made the connection and smiled as the engine burst to life, the sound like music to his ears.

”So you're just going to steal steal it?” it?”

”Yep. Now back away, or you're going to get run over.”

From the corner of his eye he caught her startled expression, but he ignored it. They were away from the farm. She had her own means of transportation. They didn't need each other anymore.

He sent her a two-finger salute as he pulled out of the lot and turned onto the street.

And then made the mistake of glancing in the rearview mirror.

Kat stood in the middle of the snowy lot, staring after him with eyes that were flat and resigned. She'd expected him to leave her like that. And he'd just reaffirmed every one of her beliefs about him.

He hit the brakes at the end of the block, gripped the cold steering wheel with both hands and dropped his head.

Fuuuuuuck.

If he'd seen hurt or even disbelief on her face he could have sped off without a second thought. But not with that look of...cold indifference etched into her features.

Muttering curses at her, at himself, at the whole situation in general, he circled the block and slammed on the brakes in front of the market's empty lot. Kat was still standing in the same place, watching him with impa.s.siveness.

He leaned over the seat and popped the pa.s.senger door. ”Get in.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then turned and rummaged in the truck. When she reemerged seconds later, she was carrying a backpack he hadn't noticed before and a small white box.

She climbed in next to him and shut the door without a word.

”What's that for?” He nodded toward the first-aid kit.