Dangerous Refuge (21 page)

Thirty-five

A
ce? What are you doing here?” Shaye asked.

“Remember the acreage Kimberli told you about, the ranch beyond the far side of the valley where mustangs are? She insisted I show it to you today, before my fishing trip.”

“I thought if we could get a new ranch in the bag, then the Conservancy would be happy with me again,” Kimberli said hurriedly.

Shaye felt like she’d been dropped into an alternate universe. “Wait. Wait. How did you know where I was?”

“If you have the right connections and enough time, cell phones can be traced just like landlines,” Ace said. “Tracking via IP address while triangulating off cell towers is quite easy. As for getting in the motel, I own it, along with five others. Did you enjoy your stay?”

She stared at him. “What would you have done if I didn’t stay in one of your motels?”

“Sent Kimberli knocking on doors. Your location coordinates were rather precise.” He smiled. “Sorry to rush you, but I really want to get this over with and go fishing.”

The certainty that something was very wrong made cold sweat slick Shaye’s spine. Above her racing heartbeat she heard Tanner’s voice.

Be there, honey.

Her phone cut into her clenched hand.

“I can’t go,” she said. “I have something else to—”

“Give me the phone.”

Ace’s voice was as pleasant as always, but now it made goose bumps rise on her arms. She got up, then stumbled, using the motion as cover for punching the callback button.

Tanner picked up immediately.

“A—” was all she got out before a measured punch knocked her back onto the bed, paralyzing her breathing and sending her cell phone flying.

Ace picked up the phone, turned it off, and pulled out the SIM card. He flushed the card down the bathroom toilet, then bundled the phone in a mess of toilet paper and threw it into the bathroom wastebasket.

All the while Shaye fought to draw wheezing, strangled breaths.

Kimberli watched everything like it was a television show and she was thinking about changing the channel. But really, it was too much trouble to press the button.

“Get up,” Ace said. “You’re not hurt.”

Easy for you to say, you bastard,
Shaye thought.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I should have spotted the phone sooner. I don’t like to be physical. I thought I’d left those days behind long ago.” He shrugged. “One adjusts as life requires.”

By shooting Rua? Sounds plenty physical to me.

But she kept the words to herself. She was in enough trouble with a calm Ace. Prodding him would be really stupid.

That left Kimberli.

“Kimberli,” Shaye said, breathing unevenly around the ache in her solar plexus, “what’s going on?”

Her boss looked like she had dressed for a party and then decided not to go after all. Her makeup was overdone, her silk shirt glittered with rhinestone swirls, but her jeans were faded, her tennis shoes were a scuffed metallic silver, and her eyes were glassy with adrenaline or something less legal.

“I told you,” Kimberli said. “I need that new ranch, so get it together and we’ll make a quick trip of it.”

“The switched contract wasn’t a mistake,” Shaye said, breathing unevenly, still not getting of the bed. “You
meant
to trick Lorne.”

Kimberli shrugged. “We needed the ranch more than he did. Besides, there weren’t any mustangs on it, so no big deal.”

“We? You and Ace?”

“Well, sure. You don’t think Peter is smart enough to help me, do you? Besides, he was just arm candy so people didn’t notice that Ace and I were getting busy as often as we could.”

“We can talk over old times while Kimberli drives,” Ace said. “There’s a trout or five with my name on it waiting for me up in the mountains.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Shaye said.

“You have a choice,” he said. “Come with me or die here.”

Kimberli rolled her eyes. “Do we really need the drama, Ace?”

“You won’t kill me here,” Shaye said without looking away from him. “The people in the motel’s front office would remember you.”

“They never saw me. I have a master electronic key to all my establishments. So much easier that way,” he said pleasantly. “Are you coming or staying?”

From his tone of voice, he could have been asking if she liked sugar with her coffee. The alternate-universe feeling was making her doubt her own sanity. He was so calm, so polite, as he waited for her answer.

It didn’t take but a heartbeat for her to decide that given a choice between dead now or dead later, she’d take later.

“Looks like I have a ranch to see,” she said through her teeth.

Kimberli let out her breath in a rush. “Oh, good. I told you, Ace. She is a very bright girl. She doesn’t want to be on the losing side. And there’s no need to talk so rough.”

“You were right,” he said. “I think there will be a soft, lucrative place for her in our new business. She has a way with the old-timers.”

I think that aliens have taken me to Area 51. Or is it 52?

Shaye couldn’t remember because it was taking all her strength not to scream or do something equally stupid.

“Grab her jacket,” he told Kimberli. “It will be chilly where we’re going.” He looked at Shaye. “If you scream or give me any trouble, you’ll break your neck in a fall down the stairs and we’ll be gone before you hit the bottom.”

Kimberli made a sound of distaste.

Shaye remembered the restrained force of Ace’s blow. He had known exactly what he was doing and how to do it.

Unlike Kimberli, Shaye knew Ace wasn’t just talking rough. He
was
rough.

“How long have you been into mixed martial arts?” she asked.

“You go first,” he said, ignoring her question. “I’ll be right behind you. Shut the door on your way out, Kimberli, and don’t forget to put out the sign for maid service.”

Shaye had already decided to scream if she saw anyone out in the parking area, but the only life out there was a weed pushing for survival through a narrow crack in the blacktop.

Go for it, weed. Life is worth fighting for.

“That’s my Bronco,” Shaye said, noticing the faded orange vehicle for the first time.

“Kimberli’s Lexus wouldn’t be much good where we’re going.” He handed keys over to Kimberli. “You’re driving.”

“How did you—oh, the keyboard,” Shaye said.

“I made copies of everyone’s keys as soon as they started work,” Kimberli said cheerfully as she opened her clever little purse that could double as a very small backpack. “My next office will have a real parking lot where more than two cars won’t cause a jam.”

“Sweet,” Shaye said, and wondered just how far the gas in her tank would get them.

“Parking lot,” Ace said.

Although she walked as slowly as she dared, and stumbled twice—only to feel Ace’s hand yank her back upright with surprising strength—no one else appeared in any of the empty doorways surrounding the parking lot.

Kimberli’s car was parked on the opposite side of the lot from the Bronco.

“Go to the front passenger side of your car,” Ace said to Shaye. “Get in and put your seat belt on. Be careful not to move afterward. Not one bit. Life is precious and very, very fragile, and I’m told I have wicked fast hands.”

“Ace,” Kimberli said in exasperation.

Shaye didn’t argue or ask him to repeat his instructions. She just kept looking for a way out of the mess she was in—a way that didn’t involve dying.

Nothing offered itself.

Reluctantly she got in, stumbling a bit over the search-and-rescue backpack she always kept in the passenger footwell in case she was called.

The emergency locater,
she thought with a surge of hope.
I’ve got to turn it on.

Somehow.

“What’s the problem?” Ace asked sharply.

“I’m a little shaky,” she said. “I just tripped over some junk in the footwell.”

Before she fumbled the seat belt into place, Ace was in the back cargo space on his knees with his left hand under her chin. It was horribly easy for her to visualize how quickly he could break her neck. Because the old Ford Bronco had been built for desert sun, the tinted glass in back made him virtually invisible from the outside.

Kimberli got in behind the wheel and started the Ford. She stalled coming out of first gear, started, stalled again.

“You said you can drive a shift car,” Ace growled.

“I can,” Kimberli said. “I’m just rusty.”

“Nervous, too,” Shaye said. “Kidnapping won’t look good on your résumé.”

“Shut up,” he said. “Kimberli has enough problems without you sniping at her.”

For an instant outrage struggled with fear for control of Shaye’s tongue. Fear won. She shut up.

Kimberli started the Bronco again and lurched toward the exit.

Shaye felt an instant of hope when a car pulled into the parking lot, but Ace’s fingers tightened on her chin in silent warning as he crouched down behind her. She would be dead before she could make any move to catch the other driver’s attention.

“Ease off,” she said through her teeth. “The way Kimberli is driving, you could break my neck by accident.”

“I assure you, it wouldn’t be an accident.” His fingers tightened.

Shaye held herself like a store mannequin, as relieved as her boss was when Kimberli finally got the hang of the Bronco’s balky clutch. Obviously Ace had driven the vehicle from her condo in Tahoe to the Carson motel.

She hoped his knees would go numb on the hard metal floor of the cargo area.

“You’re too tall, Shaye, dear,” Ace said, as if they were at a dinner party or a movie theater, completely casual and loose. “Lean forward a touch so that I can get a clearer view of the road.”

She bent down perhaps more than he might’ve expected, resting her forearms on her knees and glancing at the fuel gauge. It said three-quarters full.

It lied.

“See how pleasant things can be?” he asked. “You’re a lot more comfortable than I am. Kimberli, be sure to obey the speed limit.”

Shaye glanced down at the SAR backpack and wondered how she could get to it before Ace killed her.

Thirty-six

T
anner hit redial four times, got nothing four times, and pulled out of the gas station fast enough to make the tires bark. He drove Lorne’s truck like it was a wide-stance sports car until a red light stopped him just before he got on the freeway. He thought about blowing through it, but there was too much cross-traffic. As he waited, he punched in the number of the sheriff’s office, hit the speaker, and put the cell phone on the seat.

By the time he got August, the light was green and Tanner was breaking every speed law he could get away with.

“Glad you called,” the deputy said. “The sheriff has been crawling up my ass about Lorne and Shaye and how he doesn’t need that kind of grief right now. What the hell is going on?”

“Shaye’s in trouble. She called me, tried to say something, and then made a sound like someone kicked the breath right out of her. The phone went dead a second or two later. I called four times and got nowhere. Then—”

He broke off, laid on the horn, and shot through a slot between two cars. One driver gave him the middle-finger salute. The second slammed on the horn and brakes at the same time.

“Where the hell are you and what are you doing?” August demanded.

“Just getting on the freeway north of Reno. All the traffic is like me, southbound. It will take me an hour to reach the place I left Shaye—Mountain View Motel, room twenty-three. Ask for a welfare check. Then call and—son of a
bitch
!”

A red Caddy and a station wagon held together with duct tape and rust were blocking both lanes ahead. Tanner got in the Caddy’s business and flashed his high beams while leaning on the horn. The Caddy guy hit his own horn and flipped Tanner off, but sped up just enough for him to squeeze through.

“Good thing there was a five-car pileup with injuries northbound about twenty minutes ago,” August said blandly. “Otherwise you’d have cops all over you like flies on fresh shit. As it is, southbound ahead of you will slow because all the yahoos just have to have a look at the pretty flashing lights and hope to see some poor citizen’s fresh blood. Now tell me which hornet’s nest the two of you kicked over.”

“Welfare check. Room twenty-three.”

“I can multitask,” August said. “The closest patrol unit will take about twenty, thirty minutes. We’ve got a wildfire in the mountains.”

“Whoever is with Shaye has already killed two people.”

She could already be dead.

But Tanner refused to believe that. “Get someone’s ass down there now!”

“Can you prove that?” August asked hopefully.

“No time.”

“The sheriff told me to stay put and shuffle papers,” August said, sounding angry and disgusted. “And he made it damn clear that everything to do with Lorne, Shaye, or the Conservancy goes through him first.”

Tanner made a sound too savage to be human. “Call the motel. Find out if anyone signed in or out after Mr. and Mrs. Davis in room twenty-three. And if the sheriff asks, you’re trying to find me, not her.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Thanks.”

Without giving August his callback number, Tanner disconnected. He knew that calls to the sheriff’s station were automatically logged by time and number as they occurred.

He wove in and out of increasing traffic. August had been right. Although the pileup was across the freeway, every idiot just had to slow down and goggle at someone else’s bad luck. Using horn and brakes, he got through the slowdown and went across the rest of Reno at eighty. Apparently there were a few cops not busy with the accident or the fire, because he just missed getting nailed by an officer with a radar gun on the overpass. The three chase cars working with the cop on the overpass were already busy writing tickets.

Then he was out of Reno and on the miserable stretch of 395 that wound through tiny ranches, junkyards, and tourist shops. One car in front of him, someone made a bad left turn, heading across the busy highway for an antiques store. Tanner saw what was coming and aimed for the side of the road where there was just enough room to squeeze by between a stalled driver and a cottonwood tree.

There was a rending, metallic sound as he slid by the tree. The wheel bucked hard, then settled. He shot out of the narrow gap minus the mirror on the passenger side and a few coats of paint.

Behind him, traffic slowed to walking pace.

No harm, no foul.

The mirror hadn’t come completely free. It hung down and banged on the door like someone trying to get in. Tanner ignored it and the unhappy rattle of a fender. He watched the oncoming traffic ahead of him, searching passing cars for any hint of Shaye.

It was a long shot, but when that was all you had, you didn’t sneer at it.

His phone rang. He laid off the horn long enough to take the call. It was August, and he was on a private phone.

“Nobody checked in or out after you,” the deputy said. “The sign outside the room requested maid service, so the kid at the front desk went in. Nobody there. No possessions left behind. He figures the guest took off in the old orange Bronco he saw on his way into the parking lot. Two blondes in the front seat. Couldn’t see if anyone was in the back, but a lot of those old Broncos don’t have a backseat. The blonde drove like it was her first time with a shift car.”

“Shaye owns an old orange Bronco, but she knows how to drive a shift. The other blonde could be Kimberli. Put out a bulletin on the Bronco.”

“I’d have to go through the sheriff.”

“Why?” shot back Tanner. “I borrowed Shaye’s car and it was stolen from the motel parking lot. Nothing to do with nothing important, so why bother him? Get her license number and—”

“On it already,” August said. “But doing you favors is going to get me fired.”

“Working for Sheriff Conrad,
breathing
could get you fired.”

A rusty chuckle came out of the speakerphone. “I’ll keep you posted, but unless I get something solid, I don’t think the sheriff is all that interested in helping you out. He’s got other dogs in this hunt. Hill, Campbell, and Mason have called him today. Whatever they said didn’t make him happy.”

“Huh. They call him often?”

“Sure. Helped him get elected. Paid for it, actually, along with Desmond and some other casino owners. Conservancy even kicked in.”

“And I’m betting someone in that group is good for murder one.”

Silence, followed by a hissing curse. “Davis, you are a great big helping of shit, you know that? I’ve put out the BOLO on Shaye’s orange Bronco. Now I’ll start looking for work. Don’t call except on my private cell, which should be in your call log now.”

August disconnected.

Tanner drove like he was in second place on the last lap of the Indy 500.