No Escape (14 page)

He slipped across the street and hid in the shadows with the blackjack lying along his leg. The exit from the building was just around the corner. A car sped along the darkened street, the pools of light from the headlights momentarily tearing holes in the night.

The man, Vincent Sisco, reached the sidewalk talking on a cell phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m out. Send somebody to get me.” He lifted his head and looked around. “Yeah, well, he ain’t
here.
I’m here, but he ain’t here, Roylston. I know ’cause I’m standing out here tired and hungry and there ain’t nobody else out there.” He swore. “I’ll call him. He’s probably at a joint nearby.”

Sisco put his phone away for a moment, then stood long enough to light a cigarette behind cupped hands. He inhaled deeply and blew smoke out as he walked away from Heath. He was cursing as he punched numbers on the cell phone.

Heath followed quickly, hating the fact that the man had gone away from him instead of coming to him. Tension rattled through him as he closed the distance faster than he would have liked to. He stepped carefully, avoiding making any noise, but men out on the battlefield developed a sixth sense about being hunted. Heath’s own combat readiness had saved him more than once in Atlanta’s alleys.

Vincent Sisco evidently had the same internal warning system. Heath knew that he’d made no noise, that the shadows were falling the other way from the streetlight up ahead, but Sisco turned toward him anyway and dropped into a martial arts crouch.

Heath could hear Jackson’s mocking voice in his head as he squared off with his intended prey.
Last thing you needed tonight, brother, a Jackie Chan wannabe.

Only Sisco wasn’t a wannabe. He had the skills, and he wasn’t shy about using them. The bodyguard threw a short left jab at Heath’s throat, going for the soft spots, not the face. Heath got his right hand up in time to block the blow with his forearm. The impact partially numbed his arm all the way to the elbow.

Sisco followed up with a roundhouse right kick into Heath’s side that knocked the wind from his lungs and might have cracked a rib or two. The guy was
fast.
Even as Heath got himself set, the guy unfurled a left snap kick aimed at his groin. Sidestepping to his right, synching into the man’s frenetic rhythm, Heath dodged the kick, then avoided the short jab at his throat again, managing to catch Sisco’s arm in his left and holding on to it.

Before his opponent could yank his arm free, Heath hammered Sisco’s shoulder with the blackjack. The limb went limp in Heath’s grip, and he released his hold on it. Face racked with pain, Sisco raised his right leg in another roundhouse kick, this one aimed at Heath’s head. Heath blocked with his left arm, feeling the pain digging deep into his side, then brought the blackjack down onto Sisco’s thigh.

The man cried out in pain. When he dropped his leg down again and tried to get it to take his weight, the limb crumpled beneath him, and he fell forward. Instinctively, Heath caught the man, roping an arm around the man’s chest, then was fighting for his life again as Sisco jabbed fingers at his eyes.

Heath jerked his head, avoiding the cruel fingers, and head-butted the man in the face, feeling Sisco’s nose snap. As the man staggered back on his one good leg, Heath swung the blackjack again, catching his opponent under the ear this time.

Sisco’s eyes rolled white, and he fell. This time, Heath let the man fall, not wanting to touch him again until he was certain Sisco was unconscious. As the man lay there, a car came around the street at the end of the block, the lights gleaming against the office buildings. The vehicle cruised slowly while the brake lights lit up intermittently.

On the ground beside Sisco, the dropped cell phone started ringing.

Heath had no doubts that the car slowly coming this way was Sisco’s ride. Unwilling to give up his prize so easily, Heath scooped up the phone, dropped it into his pocket, and pulled Sisco up over his shoulder. Before he could start back to the parked van, the car’s engine accelerated, and the vehicle braked to a screeching halt out in the street beside Heath.

“Hey!” The driver got out and stood behind the open door. He aimed a large pistol across the top of the car. “Stop right there!”

Heath turned slowly, not certain what his next step was. If the jailers came out of the building, things were going to get even worse.

Another engine roared to life, then Heath watched in disbelief as the van he’d acquired for the night jumped into motion and sped straight at the car. Panicked, the driver whirled and fired two shots at the approaching van, which was gaining speed.

The van plowed into the car, knocking it back several feet. The driver went backward and down, firing one more shot into the air, then he was hanging on to the door as the car skidded back the way it had come.

Heath stared at the bullet holes over the van’s driver’s side window, totally expecting whoever had been driving to have been shot. Instead, Lauren Cooper’s head popped up and looked frantically around as the van rocked to a stop.

Her wide eyes focused on Heath. “Get in!”

My God, you’re crazy!
Heath couldn’t believe she had just done what she’d done, but he started moving on autopilot. The adrenaline spiking his body gave him extra strength and speed, and he jogged over to the van. He popped the side door and shoved his unconscious burden inside, clambering over the man a moment later.

“Are you all right?” Lauren twisted around in her seat and looked at him.

“Me? That guy was shooting at you.” Heath flailed out a hand for the roll of duct tape, caught it, then rose on his knees and peered through the windshield.

“I know.” Lauren looked at the unconscious man on the floor of the van. “Are you kidnapping that man?”

Heath rolled Sisco over and pulled his hands behind his back, then started taping his wrists together. “No, I’m wrapping him for Christmas.”

“You can’t just kidnap him!” She stared at him in disbelief.

On the other side of the windshield, the driver started getting to his feet. The interior light streaming from the car revealed his search for the pistol he’d dropped.

“You going to let him start shooting again?” Heath pushed himself to his feet and crouch-walked toward the front two seats.

She shoved the transmission into Reverse and floored the accelerator. The van’s engine had demonstrated more power than Heath had expected, and he guessed that this wasn’t the first one his contact had supplied for nefarious purposes.

Caught off guard, Heath lost his footing and smashed against the windshield. Before he could recover, Lauren straight-armed him in the side, hitting the same injured ribs the captured man had given him. He cried out in pain just as the driver fired two more shots. One of the rounds punched through the windshield and whistled through the space where he’d just been. The other whistled off the van’s nose.

The jail’s door opened, and uniformed men peered outside. They had automatic weapons and brandished them with authority.

“Halt!”

Heath dropped into the passenger seat and grabbed for the safety belt. The van started slowing. He pulled the belt around him and stared at Lauren. “What are you doing?”

Both hands on the steering wheel, Lauren looked at the jailers. “They’re the police.”

“Yeah, they are. And they’re going to be really interested in what we’re doing out here. Especially after they find out about him.” Heath jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“I didn’t kidnap him.”

“I don’t think they’re going to be happy with people driving over pedestrians in the street, either.”

“That guy started shooting.”

“Go!” Heath placed his foot on top of hers and floored the accelerator again, hoping she kept control of the vehicle.

Startled into action, Lauren looked back over her shoulder and somehow managed to keep the van between the buildings and shot across the intersection. Cars narrowly missed them. Horns blared and brake lights flared ruby all around them.

“Now forward.”

Lauren took her foot off the accelerator and placed it on the brake. Once the van had stopped, she put the transmission into Drive and looked at the traffic light in front of them.

Heath gazed around, wondering what she was seeing. “What are you waiting for?”

“The light’s red.”

Despite the fear that was thundering through him, Heath couldn’t help laughing. Sometimes that happened when things got tense. During those times, Jackson Portman swore that Heath was insane.

The laughter evidently touched a nerve. Lauren shoved her foot down on the accelerator and swerved to the right, narrowly avoiding locking bumpers with a car in the oncoming lane. She also cursed at him. “There’s nothing funny about this.”

Heath shifted in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position because the ribs were aching something fierce at the moment, but that pursuit was made even more impossible by the safety belt and Lauren’s erratic driving.

“I know, I know. Sorry. But it was kind of funny at the time.”

Lauren got the van straightened out, and they hurtled down the street for two blocks. Then she forced her breath out and spoke without looking at him. “The police are going to be after us. I don’t want to be arrested. And I don’t know where I’m going.” Her voice sounded ragged and hard.

“It’s okay. I do.” Heath knew she was on the verge of losing it. Truthfully, he didn’t know how she’d done everything she’d already done. He’d had a lot of experience in the military as a soldier and in Atlanta as a police officer and detective. His younger years hadn’t been spent without incident, either. “I know where we’re going.”

“Okay.” Lauren took a breath and relaxed a little.

“We’re going to be fine. At the next intersection, take another right.”

“Okay.”

“And you can slow down a little.”

Lauren nodded and eased off the accelerator. She made the turn, and Heath kept watch for any signs of pursuit.

Chapter 11

“I
can’t believe you
kidnapped
that man.” Lauren stood with her arms crossed in an alley in a part of Kingston that she knew she wouldn’t have visited during the daylight. She was certain rats patrolled the overflowing garbage bin, and from the raw stink that filled the air between the warehouses near the harbor, she felt positive that bodies had been left there.

She didn’t want to be there. More than anything, though, she wished she could stop shaking. Now that everything seemed to be over, now that there was no more shooting and it looked as though they had escaped police pursuit, she felt as if she was going to be sick. She didn’t want to think about how close the bullets had come.

Bullets.
She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that.

“Me?” Heath slid the van’s side door open with a rasping squeak that sounded loud enough to broadcast for miles. He was irritatingly cool and collected by comparison. “You framed this guy and got him arrested. You wanted me to talk to him, right?”

“Yes.
Talk
to him. Not kidnap him.” Lauren hadn’t envisioned that Heath would act so directly.

“Seriously? How was I supposed to get him to talk to me?” Heath sounded as if he was torn between anger and incredulity. “This guy is a trained mercenary and works for a man we think is a serial killer, and he gets busted for something he
knows
he didn’t do, and somehow that’s going to persuade him to become my best friend so he’d reveal all his boss’s dirty secrets?”

Lauren hesitated, knowing, even though the kidnapping was beyond what she had imagined Heath would do, what she had imagined had been close. “I thought maybe you’d rough him up a little.”

“‘Rough him up?’ How, exactly, is that different from kidnapping him?”

Lauren glared at him, for the moment hating the logic he was insisting on. “It’s not
kidnapping.
It’s...different.”

Heath snorted and leaned in to check his prisoner. The man was still unconscious.

Worried, Lauren leaned in. “Are you sure he’s breathing?”

“Yes, I’m sure he’s breathing.”

“You hit him pretty hard.”

“I didn’t hit him any harder than I needed to. I know what I’m doing.”

“You routinely kidnap people?”

“No, I don’t routinely kidnap people. But I’ve subdued perps before, and I’ve knocked out a few guys.”

Lauren didn’t know how to react to that.

Heath pulled back out of the van and momentarily his body was pushed up against hers because she hadn’t noticed him shifting until he was there.

Pressed against him, Lauren felt the tension in him, felt the hard planes of his back and the taut muscles of his shoulders. She’d gotten the impression of strength when she’d struggled with him at the morgue, but he felt different now. There was something more feral about him. At this moment, he fit in this alley and in this dark part of the world.

Shocked a little, Lauren drew back and stumbled. Heath caught her by the shoulder, hand moving so fast that she didn’t even see it in motion. His steely fingers stopped just short of biting into the flesh of her upper arm.

“Are you okay?” The anger was gone from his voice now, only concern sounded in there, and those green-flecked gold eyes softened.

“Yes. I’m fine.” She wanted to shove his hand away, but he guided her a couple steps back to the driver’s seat.

“Why don’t you sit down? I suspect tonight has been a bit much.”

“It’s my first kidnapping.” Reluctantly, Lauren sat. Once he was sure she was settled, Heath pulled back and looked at her.

“You didn’t get hurt when you crashed into that car, did you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t feel hurt. I just got light-headed there for a second.”

“Adrenaline overload. You’ll be all right in a few minutes.” Heath reached into the back of the van and handed her a bottle of water. “Here. Drink this.”

Almost childlike, Lauren uncapped the bottle and drank. Her lips quivered, and some of the water dribbled down her chin.

Heath stood in front of her, watching over her and the—
their—
prisoner. “How did you get there tonight?”