Hard Target (34 page)

He could stop her physically. He was bigger, stronger, but he'd take his share of the pounding in the attempt. Besides, he didn't want to fight her. He wanted to make love to her. "Listen, Dawna. Let me say something."

"
Let me leave
."

"Not until you hear what I have to say."

"Answer my question first. Is what your friend, Andy, saying true?"

He wanted to lie. But he was sick of lying and at the same time, he didn't want to lie to her. Not to Dawna. Not to the woman who had suffered for so long. "Yes, he was. Colonel Smythe threatened that he'd send another contingent down here."

"And about your being here to ruin me?"

"The CO gave me that authority. But I had no intentions of using it."

"You lied to me."

"Would you have let me help you if I'd told you the truth?"

"I should have believed you when you first said it. I trusted you, and again, that was my mistake."

She pulled in a deep breath and stood even taller. "We have nothing more to say. I'm leaving. I have an investigation to complete. And you're not pulling me off it."

"I said I wasn't going to."

"Right," she sneered. "Don't you remember threatening me with dismissal when the doctor came to treat my knee? Don't you remember asking the ambassador and Lucy to leave us alone so you could inform me you had the power to do so?"

"I remember," he answered quietly. "But I wasn't going to. I should never have said that. You don't deserve to be sent home because of this anymore than you deserved to be disciplined three years ago."

"So why is Colonel Smythe threatening to do just that? The old CO who disciplined me has retired. It shouldn't matter to this guy."

"He has some politicians on his back. They probably have the media on their case, remembering what happened."

"And you would let them blame me. Someone has to take the heat for this and I can see by this fax, that your buddy knows you all too well."

"He doesn't know squat."

She scrunched up the fax sheets that she realized she still had in her hand. "And even though you knew this would happen, you were ready to use me, in more ways than one." She threw the paper ball at him and stormed out.

Tay stood there, stock still, knowing with every second that passed, Dawna would be further away. But he couldn't tear out after her.

He just stood there and muttered out a few choice words for Colonel Smythe.

Tay found Dawna in her office half an hour later. As soon as he'd found the strength to move, he called down to the front desk and ordered a taxi. In the tin can of a car, he waved twenty American dollars, a week's wages here for the driver, to get him to the embassy in less than ten minutes. The guy nearly killed him with his driving.

His heart still pounding from the insane taxi ride, Tay stormed in past the
vigilante
. "Dawna, we need to talk."

She opened her mouth to speak, but glanced over Tay's shoulder. At least the new
vigilante's
presence kept him from hearing another barrage of profanity.

Behind him, Tay heard the phone ring. The
vigilante
answered it. Both he and Dawna waited, holding their breaths. Lately, the phone only brought bad news.

But the phone was replaced and nothing happened.

Dawna glared at Tay. "Put your sidearm in the vault while you're in my embassy, Mr. Hastings," she said with cold precision.

"Dawna, it's late. Let's get something to eat-"

"I'm planning on having a Cheez Whiz sandwich for supper, thank you. I believe that there are some standing orders you have to read? Or perhaps you could write another report to Colonel Smythe?"

When she stood, he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Finish my investigation. Find out who poisoned the ambassador. Even if I have to interrogate every last person in this city. That's my job." She walked into the security office and stopped in front of the vault, waiting for him.

He gritted his teeth. "You don't have to supervise me. I know your codes. I memorized them, and I know you haven't had time to change them since I came."

"Suit yourself. But I don't want you in my office when I get back." She threw him a scathing look. "And I'll be changing the combination on the vault tomorrow."

"We need to look at that fax you threw at me. Where are you going?"

"Down to the shelter. I'm going to start with my supper and look at all the personnel files." She walked to the door and turned around. Tay stood there, half-hoping she would somehow calm down and listen to reason, but the lethal expression remained. The new
vigilante
glanced back and forth, sensing the tension despite the language barrier.

Behind Dawna was Lucy. She had been walking past, a file in her hand. For a too-brief instance, something taunted him, but Dawna's sudden pivot dissolved it. Lucy leapt out of Dawna's determined path, then hurried out of sight.

His shoulders sagged. All through the reckless drive over here, he'd rehearsed his words. Now he knew the lip service he had been planning was worthless. The words were all lies, anyway, a result of too many years doing undercover work.

He knew what he should really say. But he'd have to corner Dawna first. And that meant giving her time to cool down.

Tay turned to face the vault. At the
vigilante's
desk, the phone rang again. The man answered in Spanish. It was nearly always another
vigilante
, or
escolta
on that line.

But the man switched to halting English. "Yes, Sergeant. I will come."

Tay turned to watch the man leave. Had Dawna called him from his post? He glanced at the vacant seat. Closed circuit TV cameras monitored the rear courtyard and the front and rear entrances. Now, they were left unmonitored.

The
vigilante
knew better.

No one had seen anyone leave the small package of explosives on the front step. Maybe because someone had left their post?

Tay spun and punched in the code to open the vault. Once he'd secured his weapon, he would seek out Dawna and order her to enlighten the new
vigilante
on proper protocols, which meant not leaving his post for any reason.

The tiny light on the panel blinked green and he drew open the heavy door. Tay stepped over the threshold, pulling out his side arm with one hand and reaching for the clipboard with the other.

He heard a swishing noise a millisecond before the blunt object hit the nape of his neck.

Staggering, he tried to turn around, but strong hands spun him back. Someone yanked his gun out of his hand and shoved him forward.

He hit the back cabinet hard.

He tried to shove himself away, dizzily, hoping to swing around and kick his assailant hard in the gut.

No good. The door slammed shut. His foot hit the steel panel too late. He heard the electronic click as the door locked him in the vault.

Slumping down, he wondered if the darkness around him was natural or whether his consciousness was slipping away.

Tay reached out and found a cold steel handle. He wasn't unconscious, thank God. Pulling himself up, he rapped his head on the drawer that had somehow glided out on well oiled rollers. He'd grabbed the stupid drawer handle.

He slammed shut the drawer and the sound bounced around the tiny vault. He swore, hanging onto his head like the Quasimodo under a ringing bell.

He stood again, and pounded the door with his fists. He screamed out, but the sound of his voice drilled back into his head twice as loud.

He rolled to one side, propping himself up against the left wall. What had just happened?

Someone had shoved him into this blasted vault, that's what happened.

Dawna? God knows he deserved it after the way he'd treated her. He'd chosen to lie to her about Smythe's ultimatum. He'd wanted her to trust him so much, and yet he hadn't returned the trust.

Tay staggered up to standing, again, reaching at the same time for his sidearm.

It was gone. Panting gently, he felt along the short wall to the door, then along the door to the cabinet. He flipped the clipboard that had fallen and the metal clip smacked his chin. Searching, he splayed out his hands along the top of the cabinet, then down to the floor. All over.

No gun.

The air seemed hot, now. Hot and close. He took a deep breath. Whoever had shoved him in here had snatched the weapon right out of his hand. Despite the total blackness, he shut his eyes.

Focus.
Focus
. Someone wearing...blue?

Like a vigilante's uniform? Blue like Dawna's outfit?

No way. No blasted way. He would
not
consider that she had pushed him in here.

Fine time to trust her.

So, if it wasn't Dawna, who was it? Where were they now? With Tay out of action, slowly suffocating, Dawna was vulnerable.

Tay worked at the collar of his shirt. He was losing air. He was losing control, too. He couldn't see a blasted thing, and yet, he sensed the walls closing in on him. He could feel them.

Claustrophobia. What a time to remember the psychologist's warning. Three years ago, after extensive tests, the psychologist had warned him he was predisposed to suffer from it. Maybe if the shrink had delved a little further, he would have seen a connection to that evening so many years ago, when Tay had climbed out of bed and hid in his mother's closet. He'd wanted to jump out at her. To scare her. In his foolish, juvenile mind, he wanted to make her happy, so she wasn't crying all the time. Jumping out of the closet made his friends laugh. It would work on his mother, too.

But he hadn't jumped out. His father had come home and he'd spent hours in their closet, listening to them argue.

Tay wiped his sweat-drenched forehead. His panting echoed through the vault and back to taunt him.

Breathing exercises, the doctor had suggested.

Yeah, breathing exercises.

In, out. In, out. Again, he shut his eyes, drawing in a deep, even breath slowly, taking his time, focusing on Dawna's sweet face. Outside in the sunshine, the light hitting her incredibly blonde hair...

Under control, easing the air out of his lungs, pushing it harder to empty them completely, focusing on pushing out the fear. He couldn't lose control. Dawna needed him.

In, then out. Sagging back, he pulled up his knees.

Something in his pocket bit into his ribs. Quickly, he straightened and dug into his pants. The embassy's cell phone, not yet returned.

Relief poured into him. Fingering the keys with his eyes closed, he found the power button. He had no idea where the speed dial was. He didn't even know the number of this embassy.