Chill (19 page)

Isabella twisted around to fight the man holding her, and gasped with relief when she saw it was Luke dragging her back into the crowd. He hadn’t left her. “Luke!”

“Hey!” her original captor shouted and charged after her.

Luke jerked her to her feet. “Go!”

He tripped their pursuer, and Isabella turned and sprinted through the crowded corridor. Isabella didn’t look back, but she heard footsteps and knew she was being chased. Frantic, she ran harder, following the exit signs. Just to get out. To get to a cab. To—

“Come on!” Luke was suddenly beside her. He caught her hand and dragged her through the masses, dodging people as they ran.

“They’ll never let us go!” She was breathing hard now. Two more armed guards ran past in the direction of the melee.

Luke yanked her sideways toward the women’s bathroom. It had two entrances, one that came out in the next hallway. “Go through and meet me on the other side. Ditch your coat and change your hair. Ten seconds!”

He didn’t wait for her. He just sprinted into the men’s bathroom.

Isabella ran through the same bathroom, and she peeled off her coat. “Trade!” She tossed it at a group of teenage girls. “Can I have your hat and sweatshirt? I’m hiding from my boyfriend!”

It took a minute of negotiation and a bit of cash, but one of the girls finally agreed.

Minutes later, Isabella, wearing a glittery pink sweatshirt and a matching hat, stepped outside the bathroom.

Luke was already waiting, in a white T-shirt and a Red Sox baseball hat. He caught her hand and began a brisk saunter toward the gate. “Glitter is a good look for you.”

Her breath was wheezing in her chest. “You like the hot pink? I feel like it’s a good combination of sophistication and attitude.”

“Agreed.” Luke put his arm around her as they neared the exits that led to the baggage claim. Two armed guards were standing there, watching everyone who went by.

“Oh, God.”

Luke tightened his grip and pulled her over for a kiss. His mouth was wet and hot, and her belly clenched as his fingers caught her hair, forcing her against him as he continued the kiss. Not just a kiss. The kind of kiss a man gave a woman when he was thinking about getting her naked and beneath him.

He snuggled her closer and moved his hand. “I apologize in advance for being crude.”

“For—”

He cupped her breast just as they reached the guards. Isabella sucked in her breath to protest, and then realized both guards were gawking at Luke’s hand on her breast. Neither of them could tear their gazes away to
inspect her face. “You men are all such pigs,” she whispered into his mouth, as he guided them past the stunned guards.

“I know.” He kissed her through his grin. “It comes in handy.”

He removed his hand and Isabella relaxed…but at the same time, she missed it. She had loved the way he’d touched her in Alaska, and his caress in the airport had been blatant and annoying…but it has also been a tease of the physical connection she craved so much.

They moved quickly down the stairs and toward the back door near the baggage claim.

“Do you want your bags?” she asked. His gun was in there.

“Yeah.” Luke glanced over at baggage claim three, which was the one their flight attendant had directed them to. He nodded toward the belt. “Yankees hat.”

Isabella followed his gaze and tensed at the sight of the man hunched against the pillar near the baggage claim they’d been heading toward. He had a navy blue Yankees cap pulled low over his eyes, but his body language was alert and ready.

As if he’d felt her gaze, the man turned his head sharply, and Luke yanked her around for a hot kiss before they could make eye contact. Isabella threw her arms around him and drank in the feel of his mouth on hers, of his arms around her, holding her tight. He was so strong, and this was his element.

“Did he see us?”

Luke grabbed her butt and began to massage it. “Still watching us.” He kissed his way down her neck.

Goose bumps shivered down her body and she gripped his shoulders. His lips feathered along her skin, and heat pooled low in her belly. Her legs began to tremble.

“He’s moving on.” Luke nibbled on her earlobe. “I want to try to get my bag.” He slipped a handful of bills into her hand. “Bribe the attendant for the first cab in line, then make him sit there and wait for me. If someone else comes after you, go.” He kissed her temple and then pulled back. “But I’ll be there. I want more of your body.”

She swallowed at her answering shudder. “This isn’t the time for sex.”

“No shit.” He kissed her again, hard and deep, then pulled back just as she was reaching for him. “Go.” He shoved her toward the door.

Isabella hurried for the revolving door, but as she neared it, she looked over her shoulder. Yankees hat guy was gone, and Luke was nowhere to be seen. He’d melted into the crowd. A man who knew how to play this game.

She shivered, and this time it wasn’t from the hormones he had stirred up. It was for the man Luke was, the world in which he was comfortable. She ran outside, saw the livery stand and began to work her way along the sidewalk toward it.

A hundred bucks and a smile later, she was ensconced in a black Lincoln.

Isabella twisted around to peer out the rear window, but there was no one who looked familiar. No guards racing after the car.

She was safe. For now.

No Luke yet.

She could leave now. Leave him behind. Take it on by herself. He knew that. He’d given her money and sent her for the cab.

She’d already run once. Now was her chance.

She should go. Luke would only help her for as long
as his goals coincided with hers. But that wouldn’t last forever.

There was nothing she could do to make him need to stay with her…but her heart ached at the thought of leaving him behind.

She couldn’t trust him, and she was a fool for keeping him around. He would never love her back the way she wanted, because he simply would never allow himself to feel that intensely. And yet every kiss, every touch, they all sucked her in more deeply.

He was going to break her heart and destroy her life…she knew it. She did. The only smart thing to do was to cut him loose and protect herself, as she’d been doing her whole life. Replace him with a situation she could control. With—

She noticed the guy with the Yankees cap on the other side of the street, and he was eyeing her car.

Shit! Where was Luke?

Isabella hunched down, watching him over the rim of the seat. Her heart started to race as he crossed the street and began to walk down the sidewalk toward her.

Luke had told her to go. But she couldn’t leave him. She just couldn’t.

“Can you start the engine, please?” Her voice was trembling. Where was Luke?

The engine roared to life. “Ready to go?”

“Just one more minute.” The Yankees hat was closer now. He paused to talk to the taxi line attendant. She had to go. Had to go. Couldn’t wait. But Luke—

The Yankees hat guy looked right at her car, and their eyes met. Slowly, he raised his phone and spoke into it, and she realized he was reading the license plate.

And then he sprinted toward her.

“Go!” Luke jumped into the cab from other side. He
tossed his bag on the floor. “A thousand bucks if you can break the speed limit and not get stopped!” he barked at the driver.

Yankees hat slammed his hands against the window. She jumped and grabbed for the lock as he yanked the door open.

Luke lunged over as the man shoved his head into the car, and he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. The man stumbled backward and Luke jerked the door shut. “Go!”

The cab lunged forward, someone yelled at them, and Isabella covered her head as they darted in front of a bus. Somehow they squeezed through without being crushed and she whipped around in her seat in time to see the Yankees guy hail the next cab.

He leapt in, and another man jumped in beside him. Then the cab took off after them, dodging traffic to catch up.

Luke leaned forward. “See that red and white cab behind us?”

The driver checked his rearview mirror. “Yeah.”

Luke shoved a wad of hundreds through the window. “It’s yours if you lose them.”

The cabbie snorted. “Is this for real?”

“Yeah.”

The driver pulled the cash out of the tray and thumbed through it. He whistled softly. “The guys are never going to believe this.”

“You in?”

“Yeah.” The cabbie checked out his mirror again. “Okay if I do it after we get into the city? Got some tricks in those alleys.”

“Have at it. Just make it happen fast, then pretend to drop us at Park Street Station.”

The cabbie frowned. “Pretend?”

“Yeah. We’ll be sneaking out beforehand, but your money depends on you keeping up the charade. By the time they realize we’re not in the cab, we need to be long gone. You fail to keep up with the race after we get out”—Luke read the man’s ID tag hanging from the mirror—“I’ll find you.”

The words were simple, but they were uttered with such coldness that Isabella actually shivered. It was the way Marcus occasionally spoke, and the cabbie nodded quickly. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

Luke leaned back in his seat and tossed her bag to her. “Ditch the pink. We’re going over the railing soon.”

She eyed the guardrail on the edge of the highway. “You sounded exactly like Marcus when you threatened the driver.”

Luke scowled. “I’m not Marcus.”

“Maybe you are.” She unzipped her bag and pulled out a black turtleneck sweater and a fleece. It was going to be cold in Boston without her jacket. “Maybe you’re more like him than you think, and that’s not a bad thing.” She looked over at him. “If you can have some of his same traits and still be a good person, then maybe he can as well. Did that ever occur to you?”

He glared at her. “Cut the crap, Kopas.”

She had to stifle a smile as she pulled off the pink hat. He hadn’t denied it, had he? Maybe there was hope. Maybe, if they all survived this, Luke would discover truths he’d denied his whole life.

She caught sight of the gun in his duffel.

Or maybe they would all die.

Luke carefully inspected their surroundings. Their driver was weaving through the North End, which was the Little Italy of Boston. The roads were narrow and crowded, and they couldn’t go quickly. The other cab was less than half a block behind them, and it was proving impossible to shake.

“We need to get out.”

The cabbie nodded. “There’s a hard right turn up ahead. You’ll be out of their sight for about thirty seconds. There’s a narrow alley on your right. It puts you out on the next street, which is one way the wrong way. They won’t be there. I’ll take them back out of the neighborhood and toward the train station.”

“Good.” Luke had made sure he and Isabella were both sitting in front of the head rests, so their heads wouldn’t be missed when they ducked out. He glanced over at Isabella, who was dressed in a couple of sweaters and a pair of boots.

Her hair was tousled, and her cheeks flushed. Her face was pale, but her jaw was firm and her hand was clenched around the handle of her bag. She looked determined. A fighter.

“Now!” The cabbie slammed on the brakes.

Luke shoved the door open, and he and Isabella
vaulted out of the cab. She didn’t hesitate, sprinting straight toward a narrow alley between two old brick buildings. The alley was barely big enough for a person to pass through, maybe about twelve inches wide. Luke turned sideways and followed Isabella into the passageway.

Their cab roared away with a screech of tires, leaving them on their own.

Isabella was hurrying sideways, and Luke stayed next to her. He watched the narrow gap of the street until their pursuers’ cab sped past.

He listened carefully, and the engine didn’t idle. Unless the occupants had jumped out at full speed, they were still in the cab.

“Did we make it?”

“Maybe.” Luke kept moving behind Isabella, and he watched the opening ahead of them. If they were hit from both ends, there was nowhere to go. They were trapped. “Hurry.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I guess I’ll stop fixing my hair and just worry about my nails tomorrow, then.”

Her comment took him by surprise, and then he grinned. “Your hair looks great. Don’t change it.”

Her cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze to look ahead. “You need to go away.”

“From what?” He heard the screech of tires and he caught her arm.

“Me.” She leaned back against the brick, then wiped a cobweb off her shoulder. “Boston.”

“No chance.” He watched as a red and white cab like the one that had been tailing them raced past the opening they were heading toward. Shit.

“Seriously, Luke.” Isabella was also watching the
street. “You’re too judgmental, and you’re going to destroy yourself, Marcus and me. Is that what you want?”

No one emerged in pursuit of them, and Luke was antsy to get out of the alley and into an area he could defend. He nudged her forward. “I want you and Cort and Kaylie to live.”

“At what cost?”

He peered past her into the street. Just some locals. “Any cost.” He pushed her outside and guided her down the street. They passed a restaurant that had the scent of roasting garlic and baking bread emanating from it. God, he’d forgotten what it smelled like to be in the North End. To be in a city that offered a thousand different food options in every ethnicity on any given day.

He scowled as he saw a coffee shop up ahead and caught a whiff of its scent. He hated Alaskan coffee, and it was nothing compared to the rich, heady aroma of fresh ground.

Damn.

He’d missed Boston.

“I know him.” Luke leaned against the windowsill of their hotel room as Isabella riffled through her bag, looking for something to wear to bed.

“Who?”

“The guy in the Yankees cap.” Luke paced the room, trying to think. Yankees hat hadn’t worked for Marcus, but Luke remembered him from somewhere. “You recognize him?”

Isabella sat down on the bed. “I think I do, but I don’t know where.”

“He works for Marcus, but I’m not sure what role.” They’d driven past Marcus’s house this evening, and the lights had been blazing. Guards had been pacing along the fence, and it was clear that Marcus’s house was the active location. “I need to go back to his house.”

Isabella looked at him sharply. “For what?”

“To get my insurance.” And he needed answers about what was going on. Despite Luke’s belief that Marcus was guilty as hell, Isabella’s constant pressure had cast enough doubt in his mind that Luke had to go see what was really going on before taking action.

He was prepared to do whatever he had to do, but he would not make a half-cocked choice as he had eight years ago. This time, he was going to plan every step of the way, and do what he had to do.

She frowned. “What are you talking about? What insurance?”

Luke sat down on the edge of the bed and finally told her the truth. “Eight years ago, I stashed the earrings in the house. I thought it would be funny that they’d be right under Marcus’s nose, but he’d never be able to find them. I want to get them. That’s why they want me. Now that they have the necklace within their grasp, they need those earrings, and I’m the only one who knows where they are.” He didn’t add that he needed to get inside and find out what was going on. Who was playing whom? Who was running the shots? He was pretty certain of the answers he’d find, and he didn’t want to get Isabella’s hopes up.

Isabella stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

“No.” He walked over to his bag and pulled out his gun. “This is my deal.”

“I lived there for six years. Marcus showed me every passageway in that building,” she said. “I can get in and out as easily as you can.”

He held up a gun. “Are you prepared to shoot someone to save yourself?”

Isabella’s gaze went to the weapon. “I—” She stopped. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I’ve never tried to shoot someone before.”

“Then don’t start. It’s not worth it.” Luke shoved the gun into his holster.

“I don’t trust you.” Isabella was sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest.

Her words bit at him. “Trust me to do what?”

“I don’t trust you to go in there and not kill a man I love.”

A man I love.
Marcus. Not him. “Don’t be a fool, Isabella. Don’t put your lot in with him.”

She levered herself off the bed and walked over to the door. She leaned against it and folded her arms. “Please don’t go.”

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Isabella blocking the door with her small body. She was so petite, he could toss her aside. But he liked that there was no fear in her eyes. He wasn’t a nice guy, and she knew that, and she didn’t fear him.

He walked over to her and stopped inches away.

She lifted her chin.

“You are incredibly sexy when you try to boss me around.”

She blinked. “This isn’t about sex.”

“I’m a guy. It’s always about sex.” He didn’t give her the chance to stop him. He figured she probably would, and he wasn’t interested in being stopped. What he needed was a solid dose of her spirit before heading
into the hellhole that raked his soul raw. The world where Adam Fie liked to play. So he grabbed her around the waist, hauled her against him and kissed her.

She melted into the kiss instantly, and a sense of arrogant satisfaction pulsed through him as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t let up his assault, needing to leave his mark on her before he left. Needing to feel her softness against him. Her touch eased the tension within him, and he felt a sense of calmness settle over him. He knew he wasn’t in danger of going in there trigger-happy, not with Isabella still in his soul.

He finally broke the kiss and pulled back.

“You’re an ass,” Isabella said.

He grinned. “Yeah, I am.”

She shoved him back. “Promise me you won’t do anything to Marcus? That you’ll just get your earrings and come back.”

He shook his head. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t know what I’ll run into.”

Isabella fixed her dark eyes on him. “How much would it break you if Cort died?”

He felt his jaw harden. They’d called the hospital upon arrival in Boston, and there was still no change. The jury was still out on the man who’d somehow become Luke’s best friend over the last eight years, despite his efforts to stay aloof.

Isabella’s face softened with empathy. “That’s how I’ll feel if something happens to Marcus. You fear the guilt if I die, but if you take Marcus and that life from me, my soul will die, just as yours will if Cort dies.”

Luke heard the torment in her voice and he knew she spoke the truth.

It haunted him all the way to the house that he had once called his own.

Isabella stood at the hotel window and watched Luke stride toward the black pickup truck he’d bought with cash two hours ago. It was registered to Luke Webber, but the hotel room was under a fake name, again paid for in cash.

She braced her hands on the rough wood of the sill. His shoulders were so wide, his body strong and lithe as he headed toward his truck. He was wearing jeans and hiking books, the same clothes he wore in Alaska. He was all Alaska, but at the same time, he was a fit for Boston as well.

She’d seen him look around with wonder and surprise when they’d passed a landmark from his youth. She’d seen the way his hands had clenched the wheel when they’d driven past his old house.

His pain was deep, and she understood that. She knew what pain was. Regret. Loss.

She got it.

But she couldn’t let him destroy what was most dear to her—and to him as well, if he could simply admit it.

He’d gotten her this far, and now she was taking over.

Luke got in the truck, and the engine roared to life.

Isabella opened her phone and scrolled down.

Luke didn’t pull the truck out, and for a moment, Isabella waited. Hoping. Then he put the truck into reverse and backed out of the spot.

Isabella sighed, and hit send.

“Black and White Cab Company,” a friendly voice said. “May I help you?”

“Yes.” Isabella watched Luke pull out onto the main
road and head toward the highway. “I need a cab.” She gave the gal her address and then hung up.

Her heart was racing, and she had no idea if her plan would work.

But she was going to try.

Luke parked the car two blocks down from his old house, then walked into the garage of a small gray Cape at the end of the road.

He unlocked the door and stepped into the dim interior. Parked inside was the same old Chevy. It even had the same mud splatters that had been there eight years ago. The same half-used can of gasoline sat on the shelf, with a pile of dirt and a couple of flowerpots, as if someone were in the middle of potting some new plants.

Same pots had been there for eight years.

This was his spot. Even Marcus hadn’t known about it, and he knew Isabella couldn’t have.

Isabella.

He couldn’t shake the look of betrayal on her face when he’d walked out the door. He’d wanted to promise he wouldn’t hurt Marcus, but he couldn’t. Tonight was about going in and out and setting up his plan.

But if shots were fired, he was doing whatever it took.

No more holding back.

Too many people had died because Luke hadn’t stood up for what he believed in, and he wasn’t making that mistake again. As much as he wanted to alleviate Isabella’s stress, he wouldn’t lie to her. He believed Marcus had been lying to her all this time, and she deserved the truth. He would never insult her with empty promises.

Luke punched the seventeen-digit alarm code on the door between the garage and the house. The steel door opened easily beneath his touch. It was faced in decrepit wood, but beneath that was solid steel.

He stepped into the small archway between the house and the garage, but instead of going into the house, he crouched and felt through the layers of dust to a small chink in the corner of the cement floor. He pressed the cement in specific spots, in an order long memorized. Then the entire floor began to slide back. No trapdoor to see, because the whole floor moved.

He swung down the ladder the minute the door began to slide. The opening was so tight his shirt caught on the cement, but the moment he was through, it snapped shut over his head. Open for less than three seconds, then gone.

Motion-sensitive lights gave the tunnel an eerie glow, and Luke landed quietly in the dirt. He flipped the switch he’d rigged on the wall. The security cameras inside Marcus’s house would start looping tape now. They’d be on the fritz for twenty-seven minutes.

Then he turned to the lock box on the wall that contained all his weapons. He unlocked it and swung the door open. “Jesus.”

It was the arsenal of an assassin.

He ran his hand over several of the guns. Tested the blades of the knives. Sharp as hell.

He’d forgotten.

He took down one of the knives. It felt natural and right in his hands. Not so different from the knives he always kept in his planes, except those were for nasty furry creatures and sawing through frozen rope. Not for people.

Luke turned the knife over in his hands, then pivoted
and hurled it across the tunnel. It pierced the wall with a solid thunk, right between the eyes of the target he’d scrawled a decade ago.

Dark satisfaction pulsed inside him. “Your payback will come for shooting Isabella, Leon.” His voice was cold. Lethal. Emotionless.

A voice he hadn’t heard in eight years.

For a moment, Luke didn’t move.

Then he slammed the locker shut and headed down the tunnel.

He left the knife behind.