Cool Heat (2 page)

“You want the nearest hospital, once we lose this guy?”

“No.”

“Sheriff’s station?”

A more definitive, “No!”

He swore softly to himself, then shook his head. He had a real live one here. He turned up the 207 toward Daggett Pass and headed for his uncle’s place high above Lake Tahoe.

“That an ex who shot up you and my car?”

“No. I don’t date short, fat guys,” she said. “He can’t shoot worth a shit. I think he’s high or drunk. Maybe he’ll drive off the road and kill himself.”

On the border, the men he’d worked with before all his troubles called good-looking, kick-ass female agents
cool heat
. He figured he had one sitting next to him and, at this stage of his life, getting caught up in some chick’s mess was the last thing he needed.

Why couldn’t she at least be ugly, toothless, and fat?

He wondered if, in some past life, he’d really pissed off the gods.

3

Sydney Jesup struggled to regroup. Moments ago, she’d been facing death and now found herself sitting in a very fast Shelby convertible driven by a wild-haired guy blowing through the Sierras.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she said.

“My pleasure. You don’t like hospitals or cops, and somebody wants you dead. I can’t wait to hear what’s going on.”

“Sorry about that.”

Sydney Jesup figured her good fortune was not merely being picked up by this guy, rather than being run over or shot by him. It was a certainly a bonus that he had a very fast car and knew how to drive—all nice qualities, for sure—but she suspected he was more than just a guy on a nice Sunday drive. She watched him as he kept tracking their pursuer in the car’s mirrors without missing a beat on the squirrely road, yet could carry on conversation.
He’s used to bad situations,
she thought. It didn’t hurt he was nice looking in a rugged, unfinished sort of way.

How lucky can a should-be-dead girl get?

“You don’t date short, fat guys?”

“No.”

He grinned with a head shake. “Maybe that’s why he wants to kill you.”

“Maybe. Fortunately, he was a lousy shot.”

“Good enough to get my car. And you look like he wasn’t totally off the mark with you.”

“You shoot a whole clip at thirty feet and you don’t get a kill, you’re in the wrong profession.”

“You have any idea who he is?”

“No. I have plenty of enemies. I’d have to check my Rolodex.”

Sydney tried to look behind them, holding her side, but it hurt too much and she turned back to using the side mirror…no sign of their pursuer.

“You don’t by any chance have a gun?” she asked.

“No.” He gave her a raised-eyebrow glance. “Not at the moment. Don’t worry—he won’t catch up. Who are you that somebody is trying so hard to take you out? I kinda need to know that while were together, even if it’s a short time. He knows my car. Red Shelby convertibles aren’t all that common.”

“Slow down a little,” she said. “Getting stopped by a sheriff or CHP won’t be a good scenario, and this area is something of a speed trap.”

“You have a background in law, the military, or crime?” he asked as he backed off the accelerator.

“Sheriff and DA’s office in South Lake,” she said. “Past tense. You from around the Tahoe area?”

“Reno. I have relatives up here. I haven’t been back in about seven years or so.”

“Military?”

“That and border, but now I’m a free multimillionaire in the making.”

“Unemployed.”

“Temporarily,” he said. “Actually, I was on my way”—he took a sharp turn with race-car finesse—”to a job interview. You’re an unexpected diversion.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s a risk when you pick up random chicks on the road.”

“I’ll try and remember that.”

They sailed up through the curves that led to the top of the mountain.

“I’m Marco Cruz,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Sydney Jesup. Thanks again. Listen, I know a place on the other side of the lake where you can drop me.”

“I’ll make a stop first,” he said. “I have a safe place where you can get your wounds cleaned and secured.”

“I really need to get across the lake. I have a doc friend who’ll deal with them.”

“Sorry,” he continued, “but I’m not running around the lake in daylight in this car with a shooter tracking me. Maybe he’s in contact with friends who are waiting on the lake side.”

She thought of arguing, but he was right to worry about that. If the source of the botched hit was coming from Incline Village, there could be five guys out there looking for them. This guy had all the qualities of the macho alpha-male types she usually bumped heads with, but in this case it was exactly what she needed.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,
as her father liked to say. She put her head back. She knew Thorp wanted her dead, but he was too smart to pull a dumb stunt like this. She had the feeling she knew who the shooter was but just couldn’t place him.

“You have water? I’m really thirsty.”

“No. I finished the bottle I had. I’ll get more in a minute. When I get to my uncle’s, we’ll get you rehydrated. Runnin’ around in that dry heat will take down anything short of a two-hump camel.”

Just over Daggett Pass, he turned off on a side road, then again on another feeder dirt road back along the mountain. He slowed to a crawl and put the top up.

“Where is this place?” she asked, not feeling very comfortable getting bumped around on a dirt road, Mustangs not being off-road vehicles.

“The last place your shooter wants to show up. And it’s hard to find. End of this old logging road. Not far. Close to the top of the mountain above Kingsbury Village. I haven’t been there in nearly a decade but spent a lot of time there as a kid. It’s a great place. View of the whole valley.”

“I’m sure it’s nice,” she said. Small talk at this point wasn’t appealing to her. But the man had saved her life, and she needed him to get her to a place that would work as a safe house, so she indulged him.

“You didn’t like border work?” she asked.

“I did. For awhile.” He didn’t elaborate.

“I’ll get out of your curly locks quick as I can,” she assured him. “Who owns this house?”

Before he could answer that, his cell phone rang. He touched the synced phone button on the steering wheel. “Hey.”

“Marco, when you getting here?”

“Be there in about two minutes.”

“Great. Can’t wait to see you.”

Marco hung up. “You’ll love my uncle. He’s like an old-fashioned mountain man. I loved coming up here.”

She was quickly losing any desire to further engage in conversation, and she wondered just how much bleed-out there was. She put a hand under her belt, and it didn’t feel very good.

He must have noticed her movement, because he tried to ease along, but now she was too miserable to appreciate it. She had her eyes closed, felt her face muscles tighten. No hiding the pain any longer. Sometimes the pain of a wound didn’t show up until the adrenalin subsided. She was feeling the burn now, especially in her side.

She had to call her cousin to get over the hatchery, but she didn’t want him going over there right now. She opened her eyes again and stared out the windshield as they turned toward the lake. It appeared like a mirage through the big lodgepole pines and outcrops of boulders.

Ahead, perched high above Kingsbury Village and Zephyr Cove, the approaching stone and wood house indeed had a world-class view. The sun was suspended on the mountains across the lake. It would be down in half an hour. Already, shadows were sliding off the western slopes toward Tahoe City and Meeks Bay.

She said, “Your uncle’s?”

“Yes. Eagle’s view of nearly the entire twenty-two miles of Lake Tahoe, the ‘big water.’ He and I once walked around the entire shoreline, the
Da’aw ‘a:go’a
, as the Washo Indians called it. Did it in one day.”

He eased to a crawl to avoid jolting her along the last stretch of rutted dirt road.

“He’s got this
temescal
sweat hut and rock pool. Do you a world of good once you get those wounds dealt with. We used to sit out there at night. Nothing like it. The sky and the lake are—”

“Sounds nice, but I don’t think I’ll have time,” she said, cutting him off.

They lost sight of the house for a moment, then passed some trees, and it came back into view. And with it, a dozen or more cars parked near the house. Looked like a lot of people up on the deck.

“You couldn’t be safer,” Marco said, as though anticipating her next comment. “Nobody in their right mind would mess with my uncle and his friends, even if they could find this place.”

“Exactly who is your uncle?” she asked.

He parked behind a white Lexus. “That man coming to meet us. I’ll be right back.”

No way. Not happening. “Your uncle is Tony Cillo?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I think you should get me the hell out of here, if you don’t mind.”

“Marco! Welcome home, boy!” the big voice of Tony Cillo boomed as he bounded down the steps of the porch.

Marco, half out of the car, glanced at her and then turned to his uncle. “Let me talk to him and tell him I’ll be back.”

Sydney tried to protest, but he was already walking toward Cillo. Up on the porch stood half the illegal bookies and crooks in Lake Tahoe.

Had she the capacity at the moment to laugh, she would have. Her hero, her savior, was the nephew of Tony “Macaroni” Cillo!

Are you fucking kidding me?

Then, seeing the key still in the ignition, Sydney figured she could very easily slide over behind the wheel, steal the guy’s Shelby, and get the hell out of there. It was manual, and she was right at home with a stick…

4

Marco’s uncle bounded down the steps, looking all thrilled to see Marco. There were at least a dozen people behind him up on the deck and a
WELCOME HOME
sign on the porch railing. He came up toward the car with a big smile, saying, “I didn’t believe it when you said you were coming back here.”

“Yeah.” Marco got out, glancing at his passenger.

Marco’s uncle gave him a bear hug, a slap on his arm, then stepped back. “Good to see you, boy. Been a long time.”

“You didn’t need to throw a party for me,” Marco said.

“Hell, yes, I did.”

“You’re looking good,” Marco said, thinking his uncle looked like he’d put on about thirty pounds. Fat and happy.

“For an old, flea-bitten dog,” Cillo said with a wide grin. “Damn, it’s been way too long.”

Cillo, now seeing Marco had a passenger, lowered his voice. “Heard some about all your troubles south of the border from your mom, but you don’t look any worse for wear. Gonna get you fixed up. Big things happening.” His eyes shifted to the car. “You got yourself a real serious ride. Damn fine car. You’re gonna have to give me a tour in that, but first an intro to your lady.”

“She’s not exactly my lady,” Marco said. “Look, it’s great to be back, but I have something I need to deal with.” Marco glanced up on the crowded porch, where the party had slowed and attention was on him.

Under the porch, Cillo’s old wolf-dog, Cujo, watched with yellow-eyed suspicion. That the dog was still alive was amazing. Had to be twenty years old, he thought. A real survivor. Like his master.

On the deck, and no doubt up the hill behind the house at the sweat hut and pool, he heard the shrill giggles of liquored-up females.

“Sure, sure. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.” Cillo waved his arm to embrace the Tahoe basin. “Things have changed. Something I want to get you involved in on the ground floor…if you’re of a mind to get rich, and I’m sure you are.”

Marco grabbed his uncle’s arm and said, “I got a little problem here.” Marco realized his uncle was a little high. “Something I need to deal with now. I didn’t think there would be so many people.”

“Hell, those are friends and associates of mine and soon to be of yours,” Cillo said. He stooped to get a better look at the female in the passenger seat of the Mustang.

“There’s a problem,” Marco said again.

“With women, there always is. Nothin’ can’t be fixed,” Cillo said. “What’s the deal? She angry at you?”

“No. She’s been shot.”

Cillo’s expression darkened after he took another look. Then his expression changed. Did he recognize her? Now Marco had his full attention.

“Shot!” Cillo moved forward and peered again into the Mustang. “What the hell’s going on? Christ, you know who—?”

“Somebody tried to kill her…at the hatchery. I picked her up running down the road in her bare feet. She needs somewhere—”

“Hell, no,” Cillo said. “No-no-no. Can’t be. Damn, boy, why would you bring that woman, of all people, here? You shoulda dropped her off at the Carson Valley medical half a mile up the road from the hatchery.”

“We had a bit of a chase. And she’s not interested in hospitals or cops right now. She didn’t explain. She needs her wounds cleaned.”

His uncle gave him a cold, hard look. “This isn’t good, Marco. That woman ain’t welcome up here under any circumstances. She’s a goddamn pariah around the lake.”

Behind them, the party seemed to slow as if sensing collectively something was wrong.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Marco said. “All I know is I found her running from the hatchery over in Gardnerville. Some guy chased us in a pickup but I lost him. Bastard put a couple bullets in her and in my car. She needs help.”

Cillo turned as a couple men came down the steps from the porch, drinks in hand, celebrating, calling to Marco.

“I’m dealing with something here, boys,” Cillo said. “We’ll be up in a minute. Go on back to the party.”

The men stopped but didn’t go back up on the porch. They were staring at the car.

Marco said, “I need some painkillers. You have Vicodin or anything? And if you have a medical kit—”

“Boy, you don’t understand nothin’. You picked up the wrong goddamn woman to bring up here on my property.” Tony Cillo’s face muscles tightened. “You get that bitch outta here fast. Drop her wherever. In the fucking lake if you have to. Just away from here.”

“Hey, the lady’s got wounds that need to be cleaned. And there’s a fucking shooter—”