Dead Run (3 page)

“He couldn’t use his real name. It would come up flagged.”

“No, but he could book on two separate airlines as Yannick Hinault. Or he could have another alias too. Either way he could book two flights on two separate airlines, and if one flight seemed to be compromised, he could switch over to the second flight.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Nobody searched other airlines. I tried, but they wouldn’t do it. When Hinault or Helloco or whatever the hell his name is didn’t turn up on Flight DL67, security did a haphazard sweep of the Delta terminal, found nothing and no one, and cleared the plane for takeoff.”

Yep. It had gone down just as Will feared. “The problem is nobody saw him but you, and you’re not sure the man you saw was Yann Helloco.”

“Correct.”

“Listen, you did what you could. You did the right thing. There’s a chance this guy was not Yann Helloco, you know.”

“I know. But the similarity of the names—”

“Sure. The names are similar.”

“Not just similar. They’re both Breton names.”

Pretty weird coincidence, if it was a coincidence. Will didn’t bother to deny it.

Taylor continued, “And why did this Hinault miss his flight? Where did he go?”

“People do miss flights, Taylor. Case in point.”

“It’s a big coincidence, Will. I just happen to spot a guy I think might be wanted by Interpol for the last thirty years, and that guy just happens to miss his flight?”

Will sighed, weary of the subject of Yann Helloco. “Yes, it’s a big coincidence. So was your sister showing up at the airport today. Coincidences happen. They’re not all sinister.”

“He could be on his way to Paris right now.”

“So could you.” The minute it slipped out, Will regretted it. Taylor had done the right thing; Will would have done the same thing in his place. The difference being Will wouldn’t recognize a terrorist from the seventies if the dude walked up and punched him in the nose. He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the legendary Carlos the Jackal, and his face had been plastered all over the news after he’d been arrested in the nineties.

“True,” Taylor said without inflection.

Like Taylor hadn’t taken enough shit over this? Will said quickly, “Listen, you made the right call. I just…” Too awkward to finish the thought with his former boyfriend not ten feet away, but Christ, he missed Taylor. Even a few hours’ delay seemed intolerable after all these months. Will had known the separation wasn’t going to be easy, but he hadn’t anticipated quite how tough it was going to get. He said instead, “Look on the bright side. If Helloco did catch a plane out of the country, good riddance. He’s someone else’s problem now.”

If Taylor heard that, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I’ll be landing around eleven o’clock at Charles de Gaulle Airport. I should be at your place by—”

“I’m picking you up. We already settled this.”

“Will, I can grab a cab. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s not, so enough with the cab.”

“I just don’t want to complicate your situation.”

“
What
situation?”

“I don’t know,” Taylor said with a flash of irritability. “The situation that has David Bradley answering your phone at one in the morning.”

Oh
that
situation. So much for Taylor not recognizing David’s voice.

Will would have preferred to leave it at
We’ll talk about it when I see you
, but the idea of Taylor spending the next ten hours thinking there was something going on between him and Bradley was not acceptable.

“David’s in town for the D-day anniversary. We met for a late dinner and were coming back to my place for drinks when we got caught in the rain. I was in the shower when the phone rang.” End of a lame-ass—but absolutely true—story.

“Okay.”

Will said skeptically, “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

There it was. One of the big reasons why Will loved Taylor. Trust was a two-way street. Will wouldn’t want to be with someone who didn’t trust him any more than he wanted to be with someone he couldn’t trust. There had been a time when he had believed Taylor would be incapable of sustaining a long-term relationship, but Taylor had proved to be the model of fidelity, and Will had been the one who had made choices guaranteed to make any lover insecure. Yet Taylor had met the challenge with cool dignity and something pretty close to grace.

So to hell with David Bradley sitting within earshot. Will said softly into the phone, “I love you. Don’t miss this plane, okay?”

Taylor’s voice softened too. “Yeah. I won’t.”

There was more Will wanted to say, maybe would have said if he’d been on his own.

He replaced the receiver.

“How’s MacAllister doing?” David asked, clearly out of politeness.

“He’s fine.” Will liked David. A lot. If things had been different…but they were what they were. Will was in love with Taylor and hoping they might eventually be posted to the same city again. He wasn’t going to discuss their relationship with anyone but Taylor.

“Long-distance relationships are hard,” David observed, as though reading Will’s mind. He lifted his glass and took another sip of bourbon.

“We’re working it out. But yeah, it’s been tough on both of us.”

“You’ve still got how long over here?”

“Another year at least.” And that was the last thing Will wanted to think about.

Reading him accurately once again, David said, “You were saying at dinner your grandfather took part in the D-day assault during World War Two?”

Will swallowed the last of his own drink. The hot shower had relaxed him, and he was sleepy and hoping David wouldn’t stay much longer. “One of them did. One grandfather was with the marines over in the Pacific and the other with the Fifth Ranger Battalion landing on Omaha Beach.”

“Are you planning to attend the D-day celebration next week?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You should.” David’s warm brown eyes gazed into Will’s, and Will felt that old, now uncomfortable, flare of response.

“Yeah, if Taylor’s up for it.”

David’s gaze fell. He nodded and reached for his drink once more. “What made you give up the marines for the State Department?”

Not an easy topic for discussion. In fact, this was something Will had only discussed in depth with Taylor, and that had been early in their partnership. He was pretty sure David, being career navy, would not understand. “I did two tours of duty in Iraq. I saw a lot of people die on both sides. What I didn’t see was us getting any closer to a resolution. Same in any arena of conflict in the world today. A lot of fighting, a lot of dying, but not a lot of problems getting solved.”

David’s expression was thoughtful.

Will said, “I guess that sounds funny coming from someone with my background. My dad was a marine too before he became a sheriff, and my brother just enlisted in the marines. I have the highest respect for the service, and I firmly believe a strong country requires a strong, well-trained, and well-supplied military. But it’s my experience that diplomacy is actually the thing that ends conflict and gets problems solved in a permanent and lasting way.”

David smiled. “Maybe it takes a combination of diplomacy and military might? I’ll buy that. Was MacAllister in the marines as well?”

“No. Taylor joined the State Department right out of college.”

“Ah. A career diplomat.” David’s tone was neutral. Too neutral.

Will smiled faintly. He didn’t need to defend Taylor. Part of what had originally attracted him to his partner was Taylor’s startlingly ruthless efficiency. Startling because Taylor actually looked sort of fragile. Fragile and sensitive. But Will had never known anyone more resilient. Physically resilient and mentally resilient. “He can be very tactful,” he conceded. And that was a private joke that Taylor would have enjoyed, though Will was not about to admit he’d sat into the wee hours drinking bourbon and shooting the breeze with David Bradley if he didn’t have to.

“He’s a lucky guy.” That was the closest they’d come all night to either of them touching on their aborted relationship. Will hoped David would leave it there because he liked David enough to try and remain friends with him.

To his relief, David swallowed the last mouthful of bourbon and said, “I guess I ought to shove off.”

Will made polite noises, but he agreed. It was getting just a little too cozy in the apartment, what with hot showers and good bourbon and personal revelations.

David rose, a six-foot bear of a man with smiling eyes and a jaw of granite.

Will put his empty glass down and rose too. “It was great seeing you again, David. I mean that.”

“Same here, Will. Thanks for a very enjoyable evening.”

They walked to the door of the apartment. David hesitated. “Maybe I can return the hospitality and take you and MacAllister to dinner one night before I fly home?”

Will could imagine what his better half would have to say on
that
topic. “Sounds good to me. But technically it’s Taylor’s vacation. I’ll see what he’s got in mind.”

“I know what I’d have in mind.” David’s smile was wry.

For an instant their gazes locked. Will broke the contact first. “‘Night, David. It really was good to see you again after all this time.”

David said with seeming reluctance, “Goodnight, Will.”

David stepped into the hall, and Will closed the door firmly. It had been a very good evening, but he was glad it was over.

He glanced at the clock over the faux fireplace. Nine hours till Taylor arrived. Just nine hours to go, and then he’d be treating Taylor to a vacation he’d never forget.

Chapter Three

True to his word—because he’d never be anything else—Will was waiting for him when Taylor got off the plane at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

Taylor scanned the crowd, and there he was: tall and square-shouldered and ridiculously handsome in faded Levi’s and a navy T-shirt. Will’s glossy brown hair fell boyishly across his forehead, and his blue eyes lit at the sight of Taylor. His face broke into a wide, white grin.

Taylor forgot his weariness and grinned back.

“You son of a gun,” Will said. Or words to that effect. It wasn’t the words; it was the tone.

Taylor had no idea what he answered—if he answered at all—because the next moment they were hugging.

Hugging and laughing and pounding each other on the back. So much for the famed Gallic effluence or effusion or effervescence or whatever it was. Will and Taylor were putting their fellow travelers to shame. Taylor ruffled Will’s hair, and Will tried to put Taylor in a headlock.

Well, you had to do something when you’d never kissed in public.

They hugged again, not looking each other directly in the face so that any too-bright eyes could be safely ignored.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Taylor said finally when Will stopped choking him and relieved him of his bags. “Jesus, you look great.”

Understatement of the year. Will looked fantastic. Paris agreed with him. Taylor couldn’t help feeling like he suffered by contrast. He needed a shower and a shave and a sleep. Though not as much as he needed Will.

Will growled, “I can’t believe it either. I was ready to come and get you myself.”

They exchanged quick, rueful looks. Twice Taylor’s leave had been canceled due to pressure of work. The DSS, like every other State Department, was underfunded and understaffed.

“Hey, I’m here now.”

“Yeah, you are. And you’re going to have the best vacation ever.”

Taylor smiled back at Will. His vacation had already improved drastically over the day before. In fact, he was only too happy to shove any thought of work and retired terrorists to the back of his mind.

They walked out of Terminal 2 to the crowded, covered parking. Taylor briefly admired Will’s black and unmarked G ride, a Cadillac Escalade, the usual American-made light duty special utility vehicle that screamed Diplomatic Service to anyone paying attention.

“Did you get the memo over here on alternative fuel vehicles?”

Will snorted. “Yep.” He unlocked the door for Taylor.

Taylor climbed in and closed his eyes for a moment while Will threw his bags into the back. He was so tired he felt delirious. Or maybe the giddy feeling was seeing Will again.

Will came around to the driver’s seat and slid in beside Taylor.

Taylor opened his eyes and smiled at him.

Will smiled back. “Long time no see.”

Taylor nodded. The laughter drained out of him. “Will.”

They reached for each other again.

Will’s mouth was warm and tasted familiar, and eleven months was as nothing while Will shared his breath for a couple of heartbeats. Taylor moaned, and it was only part pleasure because it hurt like hell to love anyone this much, to be whole only when that person was by your side—in your arms. Will muttered something back between fractured gasps.

They were going to leave bruises on each other, but Taylor welcomed it. Welcomed the pressure of a hard, seeking mouth, of hands that sank into muscle and bone in an attempt to hold on to what was always going to be, at most, fleeting. Will’s mouth opened to his demand, and their tongues touched almost shyly after eleven months.

French kiss.

The thought made Taylor smile, and, feeling the smile, Will opened his eyes and pulled back a little. He shook his head, but it was affection, not reproof. He kissed Taylor again, kissed his upper lip, his mouth, the corner of his mouth…trying for gentleness but rapidly heating up again.

It was hard to stop once they got started. That hadn’t changed.

Taylor drew back, gulping for air. Will kissed him below his jaw, trailed hot, velvety kisses down his throat to his collarbone.

“Do you think…we should…finish this somewhere more private…” Taylor panted.

“Tinted windows.”

“…Still…”

Will rested against him for a moment. Taylor lowered his cheek to the top of Will’s head. Will’s hair was soft and smelled like herbal shampoo. For a second or two they didn’t move, breathing softly, unevenly.

The alarm of the car parked next to Taylor’s side chirped. Taylor jumped. Will sat up fast. Taylor automatically straightened his collar, staring at the side mirror, watching warily for whoever was headed their way.