Long Road Home (7 page)

She shoved the body over and removed the machine gun from the dead man’s grasp. She sent it sliding over the wood floor in Manuel’s direction, and he scooped it up, shoving his piece back in his waistband.

Suddenly, she raised her pistol and aimed it straight at his head. He jerked when she fired then heard a thud behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see another body sprawled on the floor. “Thanks,” he muttered.

He caught movement outside one of the shattered windows and immediately fired off a round. A shadowy figure fell. Three down now. How many more were there?

As if reading his mind, Jules called out from her perch by the door. “They usually travel in teams of six.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Trust me.”

Trust her. How the hell was he supposed to trust her when he didn’t have a friggin’ clue what her involvement was? All he knew was that since her reappearance, the people he considered his second parents had been blown to hell, he’d been drugged, and now he was being shot at. Not exactly the cornerstones of trust.

And then there was the fact that one minute she was an injured fawn and the next she was an avenging angel, hauling a freaking arsenal out of her gym bag.

He’d had enough of this shit. The gloves were off. If they made it out of this alive, she was going to do some serious explaining. And this time, his damn hormones weren’t going to get in the way.

“Follow me,” he ordered, gesturing at Jules. His tone brooked no argument, but he wasn’t entirely sure she would listen.

To his surprise, she scooted forward, her chest to the floor. “You have a plan, I take it?”

“Yeah. It’s called
we’re getting the hell out of here
.”

She made a rude noise. “No need to get snippy.”

“Save the lip, Jules. You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do if we make it out of here alive.”

“
If
we make it out alive.”

He glared at her then crawled toward the back door. He didn’t harbor any hope that no one was staking out the exit, but he knew if they could get to the river they might have a chance. Might.

“When I start firing, I want you to dive out the door and keep on going,” he directed. “Get to the river. If I don’t show up in two minutes, get to the other side and use this.” He shoved his phone at her. “Just punch one. Tony will answer.”

She stared at him, her eyes determined. “You’ll show up or I’ll come back and haul your ass out of here.”

He kicked the back door open and began laying down a barrage of bullets.

Jules dove onto the porch and rolled off into the snow. Hell. There was already an inch on the ground.

A bullet struck the soft powder beside her head, kicking up icy pellets. She shot in the direction she thought the bullet had come from and scrambled farther into the trees and toward the river.

Behind her, the gunfight continued, the short staccato of the machine gun followed by the longer barking of a high-powered rifle. Then the sound of Manny’s pistol. Shit. He’d run out of ammo in the Uzi.

She wasn’t about to leave him to the three remaining hit men. Jamming another magazine into her assault rifle, she scrambled back up the hill.

Manny was just inside the door, shooting into the woods to her left. She surveyed the terrain behind him, alarmed to see movement close to the porch. Too close. She raised her gun and squeezed off a round.

Manny jerked around then pinpointed her position with a menacing stare. “Damn it, Jules. Do you ever listen to anyone? Get the hell out of here.”

She ignored him, seeking out the remaining two. They were out there. She could feel them. The front was unguarded now that she and Manny had moved to the back. One could be inside even now.

“Get down!” she cried, thankful that Manny immediately dropped to the floor. Unable to get her rifle up in time, she reached for her Glock with her left hand, yanked it up and fired at the man behind Manny.

He fell forward, and Manny recovered his weapon.

“Okay, so I’m glad you didn’t go,” he grumbled.

He dove from the house, rolling in the snow toward her. To their left, the last assailant peppered the snow in front of Manny. Before she could shoot, Manny rose up on his elbows and shot one time. The fire halted immediately. Eerie silence filtered through the trees.

“Come on,” he said, picking himself up. He pulled her back inside, through the living room and toward the front door.

“Wait.” She pulled away from him and dropped to the floor. She hastily collected the items from her bag and shoved them back inside. She needed everything.

As she rose, Manny’s hand closed around her elbow like a vise grip. “We’re getting out of here.”

He ushered her outside and all but shoved her into the car. Before starting the engine, he punched a series of buttons on a small device secured to the dash.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making sure it isn’t wired with explosives.”

“And you can tell that how?” she asked in disbelief.

“I’d love to stop and explain, but I’m more concerned about getting the hell out of here.”

She shrugged as he started the engine and threw it into reverse. They tore down the road as fast as the conditions allowed.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “FBI?”

“Not exactly,” he said, never taking his eyes off the road.

“What does
not exactly
mean?”

“It means I’m not FBI,” he ground out. “Look, can we save the question-and-answer period for later? Maybe when I’m not trying to save our asses?”

She slid down into her seat and stared out the window. Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, her body let her know just how much it didn’t appreciate her throwing herself around the cabin. She closed her eyes wearily and pondered the mystery of just who Manny was. Whoever he worked for, he had connections and he knew how to defend himself. Computer software analyst he was not.

If he was FBI or anything similar, she couldn’t afford for him to know who she was. Not that it would be safe for him to know under any circumstances. But for the first time, she allowed herself to dwell on what his profession meant for her.

She’d never imagined that he would be in law enforcement, though he certainly looked the part. Menacing. It was the only word to describe him when he was pissed off. He’d be a serious deterrent to anyone wanting to cross the line.

How could she possibly tell him, the enforcer, that she had broken every law he had sworn to uphold?

Chapter Nine

The miles spread out before them as they headed across the barren landscape of West Texas. The first faint shadows of dawn had begun to creep across the eastern horizon, painting the sky lavender.

Silence was thick between them, and Manny still gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he had when they had fled the cabin. He hadn’t once looked at her, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. He was angry. At her? She wasn’t sure, but he was no longer treating her with kid gloves. She greeted that fact with relief.

Hatred, anger she could take. She wasn’t used to softness. Gentleness. Caring. She had no idea how to respond to kindness. Maybe now she could stop being a watering pot every time he looked at her.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She had to get away from Manny before he died because of her. The men who had tried to kill them were from the NFR. Under Northstar’s direction, she was sure. No matter how much Manny thought he could protect her, he had no idea what he was up against.

In her duffle bag were passports, money, weapons. Everything she needed to get out of the country and draw attention away from Manny. Normally she would be patient, but she didn’t have time to wait until an opportunity presented itself. She would have to make her own.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, I can assure you I won’t like it.”

She turned to look at him as his voice filled the car. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” he said with a sideways glance at her. “You aren’t going anywhere without me, especially not with a bunch of machine gun-wielding maniacs on the loose.”

He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and let out his breath. “Know who those jokers were?”

“I have an idea.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

She looked down at her hands. “They’re from an organization called the New French Revolution.”

“Christ. Nothing like having a bunch of terrorists wanting to kill you.”

“You know who they are?” she asked with a frown in his direction. “The NFR is a pretty low-key organization. They never publicly take credit for their hits like so many of the Middle Eastern terrorist cells.”

“I think the more important question is why
you
know who they are and why they want to kill you.”

“It’s complicated.” More complicated than he could possibly know. She wasn’t even sure she understood her role. Drifting between two worlds, neither good.

“So tell me, Jules, when is a good time? Maybe after I’ve taken a bullet in the ass?”

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m
pissed
,” he corrected. “I tend to get that way when I’ve been shot at.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you shot at often?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why is the NFR after you?”

“They’re pissed off at me.”

“So am I, but I’m not trying to kill you.”

“But they’re
really
pissed.”

“And why are they pissed, Jules? Terrorist groups don’t usually single out an individual. They’re much more interested in large masses of people.”

“They aren’t technically terrorists,” she muttered.

He nearly veered off the road. Slowing drastically, he turned to her, his mouth agape. “Jules, why the hell are you
defending
a terrorist organization?”

“I’m not defending them,” she protested. And she wasn’t. Shit. She should have just kept her mouth shut and let him think what he wanted. “A terrorist and a revolutionary aren’t the same thing. A terrorist is, well, a terrorist. They operate on fear. No real or realistic agenda. A revolutionary acts to effect change. They have realistic goals.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” he said in a strained voice. “Call them what you want. They’re goddamn criminals, and they’ve killed a lot of Americans.”

“So has the American government,” she said bitterly.

He shook his head, his face reddening. So he was obviously a patriot. She had been one too, in the beginning. Now she just wanted to move to some remote jungle. Away from patriotic duty and the bullshit that was honor.

Another long moment of silence settled over them. She twisted her hands in front of her and took a deep breath. “Manny?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to Mom and Pop?” Her voice wavered more than she wanted it to, but her parents had died and there hadn’t even been so much as a memorial service. Were they lying in a morgue somewhere? Alone and without family to take them home?

“They were cremated,” he said quietly. “It was their wish. When all of this is over with, I thought we’d go home and have a memorial service for them.”

This. He said it with such distaste. She knew
this
was all her doing. Not only had she killed her parents, but she had prevented them from having a proper burial.

She buried her face in her hands, utter grief overcoming her. She couldn’t grieve for her
real
parents. They were killers, like her. But Mom and Pop? Their only sin was taking in a homeless little girl and loving her unconditionally.

“Jules,” Manny said, his voice full of regret. He squeezed her shoulder then slid his hand down to grasp hers.

“I loved them, Manny. I know you don’t think so, but it was for them that I stayed away. And it was all for nothing.” Bitterness spilled from her lips. So much hatred. It was like poison. Felt like venom.

He slowed then pulled over into the parking lot of a truck stop. After turning off the ignition, he shifted in his seat and turned to look at her. “Perhaps you tell me just why it is you did stay away. I never considered even for a moment that you were doing so of your own free will. Are you telling me it was a conscious decision?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Yes, Jules, it is. Either you were prevented from returning home or you chose not to come home. Which is it?”

“You see things as black or white, Manny. Things rarely are, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. Why don’t you explain it to me over a cup of coffee. God knows I could use one,” he said wearily.

She wrinkled her nose. “Make mine juice, and I’ll take you up on it.”

He didn’t smile at her. She sighed and got out of the car, stretching cautiously. She winced when pain washed over her. Her ribs were nowhere close to being healed, and she didn’t have time to make sure they mended properly.

“Are you okay?” Manny asked beside her, concern reflected in his voice.

She wanted to weep. Despite his anger, he was still worried about her.
Goddamn, Jules. Quit with the crying already
. She slammed her door in disgust and followed Manny into the small diner.

They slid into a booth by a window. Both looked cautiously around as they surveyed the menu. Oh yeah, he was some kind of law enforcement. He had the instincts. And, she admitted to herself, he was damn good. Whatever he was.

A waitress shuffled over to take their order and stood smacking on her gum while she waited for Manny to speak. It was obvious that she was checking him out. Her gaze wandered up and down his body appreciatively, and she stood a little closer than was necessary.

Jules frowned and followed the waitress’s avid stare. It had been a long time since she’d looked at a man with anything other than self-preservation in mind. And she had to admit, Manny looked even better now than he had three years ago. Thickly muscled arms and a broad chest. Perfect for melting into and feeling safe.

She coughed to cover the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out. When was the last time she felt safe?

Manny’s green eyes burned into her. “Is something wrong, Jules?”