Out of the Shadows (Tangled Ivy #3) (5 page)

“And if he’s calling me out by name, then they must be showing my picture around.” I had to thank my luck that we ran into the truckers.

“And they recognized you.”

“So much for the disguise.” I sighed. Cut and dye for nothing, it appeared, if even random truckers could spot me.

“Outlaw Annie, you copy the checkpoint Charlie?”

Picking up the CB, I pressed and held the button. “Annie, here. I copy your checkpoint, Slackjaw. Thanks for the heads-up.” I released the button, then remembered how you were supposed to do these things and quickly pressed it again. “Over.” I glanced at Devon. “That’s how you do it, right?”

He was hiding a smile and gave me a mockingly serious nod. “Absolutely. You sounded exactly like a truck driver.”

I gave him a narrow-eyed look, which he ignored while navigating us a lane over in between traffic that had slowed to a crawl. An exit was up ahead and he aimed for it. It was only as we were sliding out of traffic that we saw the flashing lights at the top that indicated more cops waiting for those doing exactly as we were trying to do—get around the checkpoint.

Devon jerked the wheel and maneuvered back into the lane, bypassing the exit.

“Better to stick with the motorway,” he explained before I could ask. “They’ll be under more pressure to move quickly there, what with traffic tied up like this.”

I was nervous as we crept along, wondering what was going to happen. What if they recognized me? Would they arrest me on the spot? I assumed they would. What would happen to Devon?

“Annie, this is Slackjaw. You off the boulevard?”

I pressed the button and spoke. “Negative. Bears all around.” I hoped that meant what I thought it did.

“Copy that. Meatloaf and Kentucky George, you copy?”

The CB crackled. “That’s a big ten-four, Slackjaw. Mealoaf here. Any ideas for rescuing Annie?”

“There’s a bull hauler in front of me. I reckon we can convoy us a spot of trouble, come back.”

“Roger, Meatloaf. I’m comin’ up on your donkey now in the granny lane. Kentucky’s got eyes on the gumball machines. Annie is in front of me. Annie, I hope you got your ears on.”

I couldn’t decipher most of that except the last part, and I thumbed the button.

“Annie’s here,” I said. Now I noticed the semitrucks surrounding our SUV. I figured Meatloaf was in front of us while Slackjaw and Kentucky were behind.

“Keep up, Annie. We’re about to put the hammer down. You copy?”

“Ten-four.” I was getting good at this, though I still didn’t know what was going on. “What are they doing?” I asked Devon.

“I believe they’re going to run the checkpoint,” he said, “with
us in between them.”

I stared at him, open-mouthed. “But . . . why would they do that?”

“They’re American truck drivers,” he said dryly. “You probably have
better insight into their behavior than I do, my dear. I’m guessing their
love for the law is less than their desire to assist a damsel in distress.”

I couldn’t fathom it, so I decided to just be grateful for their intervention as the truck in front of us sped up. The headlights from the one behind us were blinding as they blazed through the rear window, right on our tail. Devon sped up and I could see the checkpoint up ahead.

My palms were sweaty as I clamped my hands on my seat, my nails digging into the leather. I didn’t speak, not wanting to interrupt Devon’s concentration as he stayed right on the bumper of the truck in front of us, accelerating.

The police saw the trucks coming—they were kind of hard to miss—and started scrambling to get out of the way. Beyond the checkpoint, the highway was clear.

People were yelling and drivers of the cars we passed watched in open-mouthed wonder at the caravan of three semitrucks and an SUV barreling past them. The trucks blew their horns and I couldn’t help covering my eyes as we crashed through behind Meatloaf. There was the screech of metal against metal and the sound of tires squealing. I held my breath, waiting for the crash. But nothing hit us, and a moment later, I chanced a look.

“They’re barricading the road behind us,” Devon said. The SUV was still going top speed and accelerating.

I twisted in my seat to look behind us. All three truckers had stopped, parking their rigs across the road to prevent any quick chase from the police. They had indeed covered for us.

“Peach, are you through?” I heard over the CB. I quickly thumbed the button.

“Ten-four. Thank you all for doing that.” I had no idea how much trouble they’d be in, but I hoped it wouldn’t be more than a slap on the wrist.

“You take care now. Watch for bears. They’re thick as bugs on a bumper, searching for this woman named Ivy.”

I swallowed hard. “Copy that, Slackjaw.” I let the button up with a sigh of relief.

Devon drove fast, and took the next exit, handing me the folded-up map.

“Going off the motorway will cost us time, but will be worth it to avoid the police,” he said. “Look and see the secondary route I’ve marked. See if it looks right to you.”

I was no stranger to two-lane country roads, the winding curves and trees flashing by reminding me of where I’d grown up. Beyond the trees loomed impenetrable darkness that only thickened as the hours passed. It made my imagination work overtime, probably from watching too many episodes of the
X-Files
growing up. If I wandered past the initial barrier into the inky blackness, would I find evidence of the unexplained? Aliens and mothmen and Bigfoot?

Doubtful. More likely mosquitoes, snakes, and feral possums.

“What are you thinking that’s making you smile like that?” Devon asked.

I glanced over at him, realizing I was indeed grinning a little at my fanciful imaginary forest expedition.

“Just thinking about what’s out there,” I said with a shrug, nodding my head toward the trees. “When I was little, I was always fascinated by the idea of monsters. Mythical creatures out there, evading detection and leaving only clues as to their existence. They could hide forever, it seemed.”

“Monsters are real,” he said grimly, “and they do hide amongst us. Disguised as normal people you love and trust.”

The darkness in his voice had me studying his profile. “You’re talking about Vega, aren’t you,” I said. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. “You told me once before that she’s the one who helped you when your parents were killed.” This time I waited, hoping he’d open up to me. It took several long moments, but eventually my patience paid off.

“The murder of my parents had a profound effect on me,” he said. “I retreated into myself, turning into a sullen, angry, silent boy. A couple of years passed and I started getting into fights, trying to find an outlet for the anger, I think. I . . . beat one child so badly, he ended up in the hospital. He was all right, but I was to be removed from the orphanage and placed in a YOI, young offenders institute, which is much like your juvenile detention centers.

“That’s when Vega appeared,” he continued. “I was fifteen and friendless. Smart, but unmotivated. If I’d been removed to the YOI, I am quite sure I’d have run away and become a full-blown criminal on the streets of London. She placed me in another location that I later was to learn belonged to the Shadow. I lived there, was trained there, for the next four years.”

I did the math. “You were nineteen. So . . . then what did you do?”

“I killed someone.”

He said it matter-of-factly, but I could detect a hint of something else. Regret, maybe? Disillusion?

“They’d trained me to be a ruthless killer, but also had taught me spycraft, and above all, unwavering and unquestioning loyalty to the Shadow. For the first few years, I did a lot of recce. After that first kill, it was easier, but assassinations didn’t come until later. I left a bloody trail in my wake and became Vega’s top operator.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Congratulations
wasn’t really what he was going for, I thought. His hand lay on the console between us, so I folded my palm over his. I stayed quiet, letting him say things I knew almost for certain he’d never told another living soul.

“I did my job faithfully for six years. Excellently. Then I met Kira. It didn’t occur to me that I wouldn’t be able to be with her. We were in love.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “I was a fool.”

Devon’s grip tightened on my hand.

“Vega told me . . . she was the one who’d had Kira murdered.”

I stared at him, both shocked and unsurprised at Vega’s actions. I remembered the easy, almost casual way in which she’d had Clive killed. How she’d spoken of giving Heinrich the whereabouts of Clive’s wife, Anna, which had led to her infection and tortuous death.

I wished Devon wasn’t driving so I could put my arms around him, but I settled for squeezing his hand instead.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured.

“I trusted her, obeyed her, gave my life over to her, for
years
,” he said. “And she betrayed me. What she did . . . what she
allowed
them to do to Kira . . . ” He looked at me and I sucked in a breath at the rage and pain in his eyes and on his face. “She’s the monster, Ivy. And we’re going to take everything from her.”

The conviction in his words sent a chill through me. I understood Devon’s wanting vengeance, but I didn’t want him to die because of it.

It was after midnight when we pulled into a motel in the middle of nowhere that looked like a reject from
Psycho
. Devon turned off the engine, but I made no move to get out.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

It would have sounded ridiculous for me to be all,
I’m skeered
, like a kid who’d watched too many horror movies . . . but apparently I’d watched too many horror movies.

“Maybe there’s like a Holiday Inn or something a bit further,” I suggested. “I could drive, if you’re tired.”

“Holiday Inns have records and computers and cameras,” he said. “This place does not.”

“I also doubt they have running water,” I muttered as he got out.

“Wait here,” he said before closing his door and walking into the dingy office to rent a room.

“No problem,” I said under my breath, eyeing the flickering neon sign proclaiming “Vacancy,” except the
N
and
C
were both out, so it looked like “Vacay.”

“Far from it,” I said to myself, remembering the wonderful hotel in Maui at which Devon and I had stayed. Although I had champagne taste on a beer budget (as my Grams was so often telling me), I didn’t think I was being all snotty about
this
place. Anyone in their right mind could see it was a total dump.

“Should’ve bought Lysol at Walmart.” Oh well. I’d have to pick some up the next time we passed the ubiquitous shopping center.

Devon returned a few minutes later, bearing a key. He drove us toward the end of the strip of rooms, stopping in front of number thirteen. I glanced at him.

“Thirteen? Really?”

“Surely you’re not superstitious,” he said, his lips twitching at the corners.

“Why tempt the universe?” I countered. “We’re already on its bad side.”

Leaning over, he pressed his lips to mine in a quick, hard kiss. His hand cupped my cheek as he gazed into my eyes. “I promise, I’ll protect you from the universe,” he softly murmured.

My heart promptly melted.

I followed him inside as he carried the duffel bag containing our clothes. The room was clean, but old. The linens thin and worn, the carpet stained in spots with God only knew what. I perched gingerly on the edge of the bed.

Though I hadn’t done the driving today, I was exhausted. I swiped a hand tiredly over my eyes.

“Are you all right?” Devon asked, his brow creased with concern.

I smiled. “I’m fine. Just need to get some sleep, I think.”

He seemed to accept that, turning away and bolting the door, then wedging a chair under the knob. I watched as he checked the windows, too.

“Do you think anyone is following us?” I asked, the man from the parking lot coming to mind.

“I think it pays to be cautious.”

Abruptly I wondered what would happen if we did make it out of this. Devon had lived a life I couldn’t begin to imagine. Would he find the day-to-day normalcy of no longer being a spy boring? And what would he do if he decided he’d made a mistake and couldn’t live just a normal existence?

I thought about this as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I stripped off my jeans, then inspected the sheets and bedcovers before climbing into them. Devon was checking his weapon and didn’t take anything off before settling down next to me.

“Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?” I asked, bewildered. But he shook his head.

“If I need to move quickly, I don’t want to take the time to put them on. Better to be prepared.”

Well, that sounded alarming.

“Should I put my shoes on, too?” I asked.

“No, darling.” He drew me into his arms and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You sleep and don’t worry.”

His arms were strong, the muscles hard, and it made me feel safe. His weapon was underneath his pillow and his right hand lay within easy reach of it. I relaxed, my body molding itself to his, and closed my eyes.