Betrayed (19 page)

He hadn't prayed in years, but he prayed now.

“
Dios
, I know I did wrong. I got myself into bad trouble. It was little stuff at first. I didn't realize I was going to get into bad trouble. But if you help me now, I'll never do it again.”

Was that the truth? He hoped so. He couldn't say the next part. But he knew what it was. If he couldn't get out of this alive, he hoped that he would die with no more pain. A simple shot to the head would do it, preferably from behind so he wouldn't have to see it coming.

Elena watched Shane closely, trying not to make it obvious that she was evaluating his physical condition. To her relief, he continued to get better. By the next day, he was up and around, at least for short periods. He was eating more, and there was no infection in his wound.

And he had a new mission.

“Have you ever shot a gun?” he asked.

“My father taught me and my brother. He was always afraid of bad men coming after us.”

“That's good. Because you might come up against a situation where throwing rocks isn't enough. So let's see what you know.”

“But I thought you said I shouldn't go out. My father always took us out to the woods.”

“On private property?”

“I don't know.”

“There's a shooting range in the basement, among other special features.”

He took her downstairs and showed her the safe room where she could lock herself in if there was trouble.

“But you're not expecting any,” she clarified.

“No. But I wasn't expecting any in Maryland.”

He showed her how to call for help from outside, then took her into a long, thin room set up as a pistol range.

“We've got twenty-five yards from firing position to target,” he said.

“How did you do all that—under this house?”

“It took some special excavation and modifications to our specs. We've got an excellent ventilation system, so you won't be breathing in smoke or lead particles. But you will have to wear double ear protection.”

“Which means?”

“Earplugs and over-the-head earmuffs, because the space is confined.”

He showed her the paper targets, which were outlines of cartoon characters, then went to the gun rack along the wall and took down an automatic.

“I don't know what your father taught you. What kind of gun did you use?”

“An old revolver.”

“Well, I think we can do better than that. There are a lot of considerations in choosing a gun for you. Some people think women should start with a twenty-two because it's lighter, with less recoil. But it's also the least accurate gun you could get for self-defense. I'm thinking it would be better for you to start with a nine-millimeter automatic.”

She nodded, knowing what he taught her might save her life.

He picked up a Sig Sauer from the rack, holding it downward while he checked to see if it was loaded.

“What did he teach you about safety?”

“Not to point a loaded gun at anyone.”

“Yeah. Actually, there are four basic rules to remember. You treat any gun as though it's loaded. Never point the gun at anything you don't intend to blow away. Keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire, and be sure of your target and what's behind it.”

“Behind it?”

“Yeah, like innocent bystanders—out in the woods.”

He went on to talk about safety gear and where she might carry a concealed weapon, and then explained how the gun worked and how to load ammunition. His careful lesson was a lot more thorough than anything her father had imparted. It was like the difference between the Wild West and a police academy.

“It's a lot to remember,” she murmured.

“Yeah.” He dragged in a breath and let it out.

“What?”

“I'm getting tired,” he answered. She was instantly worried about his health, until she realized he was probably using that as an excuse to slow down the lesson so she could absorb everything he was teaching.

They ate lunch—this time a couple of frozen meals. Then they went back to the range. Before he let her do any actual shooting, he made sure she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a collar and also a hat to minimize the chance of getting struck with a spent casing. He also instructed her on using a two-handed grip.

“After you fire the first clip, I'll show you how to reload. Obviously, it's not the same as with a revolver.”

She was pleased when her first try impressed him.

“I suppose you were better than your brother,” he said.

“How did you know?”

He laughed. “A lucky guess.”

By the time they'd had several lessons, she was fairly confident about her ability to defend herself.

But as they ate dinner after her fourth lesson, she could sense his restlessness.

“What?”

“Those men found us twice before.”

“But we came down here because it's far enough away to be safe,” she argued.

“Yeah, I needed a place where I could heal. But I've been thinking about the time that's passed since we got here.”

She waited for him to continue.

“They probably figured we flew out. And they know there's only so far we could get in that plane. And there are only so many small airports where I could have landed. If they're desperate to find us, they could start checking locations within the range of the plane.”

“You think they'd do that?”

“I don't know. But I think to be safe, we'd better move on.”

The way he made the statement sent a shiver over her skin. She felt like she'd been getting a reprieve from facing the problems that waited for her back in Maryland. Now he was telling her it was time to get back to reality. At least she felt better equipped now.

“We're flying back there?” she asked.

“Maybe. We're going to talk to Max and Jack to find out the situation first.”

Again she nodded, and then she was surprised when Shane put the call on the speakerphone so she wouldn't be excluded from the conversation.

One of his partners picked up immediately.

“Shane?” The man sounded relieved to hear from them. “How are you?”

“I'm a lot better, Max. I have Elena on the speakerphone.”

“Jack's on at this end, too. So we're all here,” Max said.

“We're coming back up there to see if we can resolve the situation.”

“Yeah, but you'll have to be cautious,” Max said.

“What's the problem?”

“Someone's been nosing around here. I mean, around this office. Whoever the bad guys are, they know you're part of Rockfort Security. At least that's what we surmise. There's been a lot of unusual surveillance around the building. Also at the safe house in St. Stephens. And they broke into the airport offices.”

Shane winced. “I figured they might. I filed a fake flight plan.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you suggest now?”

“Meeting at a location they won't suspect and making some plans.”

Shane glanced at Elena, then back at the speaker.

“How about the Four Seasons Hotel in Washington, D.C.?”

Max laughed. “Yeah, if they're thinking you want to cut costs, that would be an excellent choice.”

“Then let's do it. Get a two-bedroom suite. Use a set of alternate identities.”

Elena kept her gaze on him. He was casually telling his partners that the two of them were sleeping together. But why should she care about that? she asked herself. Maybe it was a good thing. He had found an offhand way to tell his friends about the relationship.

He raised an eyebrow as he caught her reaction.

When she shrugged and looked away, he reached out and clasped her hand.

Max was speaking again, asking a question. “How are you traveling?”

“It's probably better not to tell you.”

“Yeah, in case the guys hanging around here catch us and torture us.”

Elena winced, even though she knew that Max was kidding. She hoped.

Max said he'd take care of the reservations—under their assumed names.

“Get us a late check-in, for tonight,” Shane said, “in case we don't go straight there.”

When they hung up, Elena looked at him.

“How are we traveling?”

“Surface transportation. It's about a six-hour drive. I'd use a delivery truck if I thought I was fit to drive that far. But I think our best bet is a limo—following the luxury theme.”

“Okay.”

He consulted his computer, got the number of a limo service, and made the arrangements.

“They'll be here in half an hour,” he told Elena.

Her jaw dropped. “How could you arrange it that fast?”

“Money.”

“This is costing a lot. I mean, it's like you've taken on a case but you're not getting paid for it.”

“Lincoln Kinkead's going to pay me.”

“Even though you…” She flapped her hand in a helpless gesture. “Even though you walked out on the job he hired you to do?”

“I didn't walk out. I'm still working for him, even if he doesn't know it. And you're forgetting that I'm the one who knows where that SIM card is hidden.”

“At the first safe house,” she breathed.

He nodded.

“You think it's still there?”

“I put it somewhere nobody's going to look. Partly because they don't even know what they're looking for.”

She didn't ask where he'd put it because she didn't want him to speak the words aloud—just in case someone could hear them. Or maybe she was being paranoid.

The expression on her face made him shake his head.

“Don't worry about it now. And we don't have time for an argument. Pack some clothes you want to take.”

“You mean something that will look like I belong at a five-star hotel?”

He laughed. “You'd be surprised what people wear at top-of-the-line hotels these days. The more money they have, the less they think they have to impress people, and the more casually they tend to dress.”

“Okay.”

Still, she hurried upstairs and looked through the women's clothing she'd found in the safe house, selecting nice slacks and jeans and several nice blouses, and packed them in a suitcase she found in the closet.

She was ready in twenty minutes. When she came down, Shane was coming up from the basement.

She gave him a questioning look.

“Something I had to do. Give me a couple of minutes to pack.” He climbed the stairs while she waited in the great room. She'd felt okay here until he'd started making her nervous with his talk about her brother's pursuers finding them.

When he came back downstairs, he was carrying a small bag.

“I guess I took more clothes than you did,” she blurted.

“Women always need more clothes than guys.”

When a call came to his cell phone, she tensed, then waited while he answered. It was the limo driver down at the gate. Shane buzzed him into the compound, and they got into the luxury vehicle, with its wide leather seats, television, and wet bar.

She was looking back the way they'd come when she saw an SUV slow at the entrance to the property.

Shane was looking in the same direction.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“I don't know, but I think my instincts were correct. We may have gotten out of there just in time.”

She shuddered. “You think they found where we were staying?”

“I think if they put enough resources into it, they could do it.”

“Can they get in there?”

“The alarms are on, but they might ignore them.”

“Another safe house compromised,” she whispered.

“Rockfort will handle it.” Shane moved to the facing jump seat and tapped on the window between the passenger compartment and the front seat. When the driver lowered the window, the two men had a hurried conference.

“What?” Elena asked when he settled back into his seat.

“We're changing cars in Richmond,” he told her. “The driver's setting it up now.”

She swallowed, thinking that she'd never been in a situation where she didn't know if she was going to be safe from one moment to the next. Then she changed that evaluation. It had been true when she'd been a little girl in San Marcos. Her parents had told her and her brother that everything would be fine once they got to North America. She'd believed them, and for her it had been true until the past few weeks—until her brother had messed everything up for the Reyes family.

She caught her breath.

Shane instantly picked up on her reaction. “What?”

“I was thinking that my brother had messed things up for our family. Then I started worrying that the bad
hombres
could have gone after my parents. I mean, they can't know anything, but that may not be any protection.”

Shane still had his phone in his hand. As they sped north, he called Rockfort Security and explained the situation to his friends.

He looked up and said, “They're going to make sure your family is all right.”

“
Gracias
.”

He nodded and went back to the conversation with the other Rockfort men. She could only hear his side of it, but she sensed his frustration. Apparently they hadn't figured out where her brother was and who was holding him. That was bad enough, but the thugs seemed to have put enormous effort into figuring out where she and Shane had gone.

As she listened to the conversation, a plan began to form in her mind.

Her brother had gotten her into bad trouble. She'd transferred that trouble to Shane and his partners, and she was thinking it was her responsibility to get them out of it.

***

Jerome Weller shoved his cell phone into his pocket. With his mouth set in a grim line, he got up and wandered onto the flagstone terrace outside his office. He stood in the shade of the awning for a few moments, then walked down a flagstone path to the fishpond that his gardening service had installed for him. The fish glided through the water, completely oblivious to any dangers.

He took out his phone and stared at the screen. When there was no indication of a call, he put it back and walked farther into the garden.

He was angry with himself for reacting to this situation. Over the past few days he'd lost weight. And every time he tried to eat a decent meal, it stuck in his throat. He took two antacid pills out of his other pocket, popped them into his mouth, and chewed. He hated the taste, but he found he was eating them like candy.