The Bliss Factor (23 page)

Being hand in hand with Conn was her idea of a fantasy, and if she didn’t pull her hand from his it didn’t mean she was getting sucked into the illusion. He was right about the pretense. People would look at them and see exactly what Conn wanted them to see. Unless those people were Harry, Joe, and Kemp.

MACKINAW CITY WASN’T THAT LARGE, AND I-75
soared through the middle of it, ramping up to the bridge approach, so it was hard to miss. Good thing, since skin-to-skin contact with Rae was wreaking havoc on Conn’s ability to run the op. He was grateful his pattern of speech had been getting gradually less stilted over the last couple of days as he’d come closer to retrieving his memory, because he’d slipped more than once.

Rae hadn’t noticed. He chose not to read anything into that.

That first dirt lane brought them to a paved road that led beneath I-75. Direction wasn’t a mystery with the bridge looming overhead, and before they knew it they were out of the bridge’s shadow and walking along the divided lane leading into the touristcentric area of the city: a maze of shops, restaurants, and entertainment that led, ultimately, to the docks along the shoreline.

“Do you think the car is being watched?” Rae asked.

Under normal circumstances Conn would have said,
Yes
, and let it go at that. His alter ego was regrettably wordy. Even more regrettably, he had to keep up the pretense. “I think we should attempt to discover what happened after we left the island. Harry and his friends may not be at liberty to attempt an ambush at the car.”

“You think the police arrested them?”

“Unless they grew wings.” Conn headed for the nearest shop.

Rae pulled him back. “You’re too memorable,” and before he could argue, she put up her hood and went inside.

Conn let her go, but he put a foot on the door to hold it slightly open so he could hear the conversation without being seen.

Rae wandered around, aimlessly browsing for a couple minutes before she approached the checkout counter, plucking a pair of earrings from a rack and holding them up to her ears. “I hear there was some commotion on the island today,” she said to the bored girl picking at her nail polish behind the cash register.

“Yeah,” the girl said, “some guys stole horses from the Grand Hotel and, like, chased this carriage all over the island. With guns.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Nah. The driver took them on single-handedly, like John Wayne or something. The people in the carriage, like, totally stole a plane and flew it off the island. They landed it about ten miles away from here, like, right in the middle of I-75.”

“Really,” Rae said.

“Yeah, I heard it was some guy built like the Hulk and a lady with red hair . . .”

“Shit,” Conn said under his breath as Rae shot out of the store and took off at a fast walk.

“You heard all that, right?”

“Aye,” Conn said, letting her lead the way into the maze of boutiques and restaurants. As soon as they were out of sight of that first shop, Conn slowed to a more leisurely pace so they didn’t draw more attention. “So much for you being the unremarkable one.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten that much out of her. She’d have taken one look at you and—”

Conn popped up an eyebrow.

“Okay, you could have found out whatever you wanted to know, but not by asking questions.”

“There are many ways to get information, but I would not want to cross that particular line.”

Rae didn’t say anything, but Conn thought he caught the beginning of a smile before she looked away. It gave him a little ego boost, knowing she was jealous, but then there was the downside. Her feelings. But it was too late to do anything about it, except try not to encourage her.

They’d been working their way toward the docks, and the parking lot where they’d left Mr. Pennworthy’s car. When they found themselves at the last line of buildings, ready to step out into the open, Conn caught Rae’s arm.

She didn’t argue with him. She looked like she understood his hesitation, if not the exact reason for it. “I don’t see anyone around the car.”

“That’s what troubles me,” he said.

The car was parked in a wide-open lot, no other vehicles around it, owing to the lateness of the day, and the season, and the scarcity of tourists. He didn’t see anyone lurking nearby, and the closest building was too far off to be used as cover. The sun was low in the western sky. Not much natural light made it past the buildings. All they had to do was cross the parking lot, get in the car, and drive away. Nothing to it. That was exactly what bothered Conn.

There’d been a pretty big ruckus on Mackinac Island earlier, complete with a horse chase and gunfire, not to mention a stolen airplane that was currently blocking the southbound lanes of a major interstate highway. Only half the combatants were in police custody, and it made sense that the authorities would be watching the ferry yards at Mackinaw City and St. Ignace in the hope they could collar the hijackers. Just because he didn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Their options were limited. If there’d been a bus station in Mackinaw City, and if it weren’t being watched, the ticket agent would have instructions to be on the lookout for them. And he and Rae were anything but mistakable. They could steal a car, but he preferred to take their chances with the Cadillac. It was a prime example of Detroit technology, perfectly maintained, with an engine more powerful than anything he was likely to stumble across in a small town where most of the residents worked the tourist industry for slightly over minimum wage. Especially since the tourists, who might have provided something worthwhile to steal, were all snug at home, getting ready for winter.

Now, if he could only figure out a way to get behind the wheel . . . Not a good idea to push that agenda, he decided, not after the plane. No way could he sneak that kind of skill by Rae twice. He’d barely made it the first time. And Rae wasn’t such a bad driver, judging by their two previous auto-related altercations. Not that he could warn her of the possibilities since Conn the Armorer couldn’t possibly anticipate the actions of twenty-first-century law enforcement.

He took Rae by the hand and stepped out into the open, crossing the parking lot. They were at the car, and she was coding them in, when the lights came on. The lights came from two cars.

“Shit,” he said, losing precious seconds while he wrestled with the urge to race around the car and get behind the wheel himself. He finally yanked open the passenger door, yelling, “Let’s go.”

She opened the driver’s-side door and looked in at him. “Can’t your friend get us out of this?”

Conn grabbed her arm and pulled her into the car. “I don’t know how to get in touch with him,” he lied.

Rae just sat there, staring at the police cruisers bearing down on them.

“Either you drive or I will.”

She pushed the keyless ignition, and shot it into DRIVE as soon as the engine roared to life, giving the car enough gas to make the tires spin out on the gravel as she wheeled it toward the road.

The two cruisers swung out behind them, sirens screaming as they sped back through the area Conn and Rae had just covered on foot.

“I-75?” Conn asked her.

“That’s our best bet, don’t you think?”

“Not southbound.”

She looked over at him, jerking the steering wheel to the right just as one of the cruisers pulled up next to him. The deputy driving it took evasive action and ran into a light pole.

“One down, one to go,” Conn said, grinning.

“I was just trying to change lanes,” Rae said, looking panicky. “Do you think he’s hurt? He’s hurt. Oh my God, I killed a police officer.”

“Air bag went off,” Conn said, then closed his eyes and called himself every kind of idiot there was for mentioning something no medieval armorer would know about. If she hadn’t been busy worrying about killing a cop he’d’ve been toast. “He’s fine,” Conn said. “The car won’t be moving anytime soon, though.” He looked over his shoulder. “The other guy seems to be okay with staying behind us.”

“That’s because we have nowhere to go,” Rae said, taking the northbound ramp onto I-75. “Except the bridge.”

Conn reached over and set his left hand on top of her right hand, leaving it there until she stopped shaking.

“You okay?”

She nodded, giving him a slight smile. It came out more like a grimace, but at least she’d tried. It said something about her state of mind.

“He’s not following us onto the bridge,” Rae said.

Sure enough, the cruiser had stopped at the Lower Peninsula entrance to the northbound side, pulling across the two lanes of traffic to stop any other vehicles from crossing the bridge.

“What are they up to?”

“My guess,” Conn said, “is that they have the other side of the bridge blocked.”

Rae blew out a breath, but she stayed calm. “They’re trying to keep innocent bystanders from getting hurt. And it’s not like we can go anywhere but forward.”

She had a point there. They couldn’t cut over to the southbound lanes, and it had to be at least a couple hundred feet to the water. Even if they could get the Caddy over the side, they’d never survive the fall.

They passed the southern tower, moving onto the center span. Even when they’d crested the hill there was nothing to see, no taillights in front of them, and since the sun had completely set, and they were still a couple of miles from the far end, not even the hint of the vehicle blocking their way was visible. Conn still knew it was going to be there.

So did Rae, but instead of slowing down when the vehicle came into sight, she sped up. Even worse, it was a pickup truck, the seal on its side illegible at that distance but a clear indication that it represented a sheriff’s department—not to mention the equivalent of a brick wall at the speed they were going.

“Rae,” he said, keeping his voice calm so he didn’t upset her. “Maybe we should stop.”

“If I hit the back end of the pickup really hard, I can punch it out of the way and keep going.”

“Maybe, but—”

“It always works in the movies.”

“I don’t doubt the mechanics of your plan. But even if the police car that hit the pole a few minutes ago had been driveable, the officer was unable—”

“Because of the air bag.” Rae smacked herself in the head with the heel of her hand. “Stupid. So we stop, and then what? He’ll have a gun.”

“So did Harry,” Conn reminded her.

“Right.” Rae did another one of her deep-breathing exercises, slowing the car as they passed the second tower and started the final descent.

She was about a quarter mile from the truck, going less than twenty miles an hour, when Conn opened the passenger door and rolled out, letting momentum take him to his feet again. He stayed low, keeping the bulk of the car between himself and the police officer getting out of the pickup.

The Caddy rolled to a stop, Conn catching up to it just as the officer approached the driver’s side and ordered Rae out of the car. By the time he caught sight of Conn in his peripheral vision it was over, Conn clouting him on the jaw hard enough to put him out.

He didn’t waste any time, dragging the officer up into a fireman’s carry and dumping him in the bed of his pickup, then jumping in the cab and pulling it up far enough so the Cadillac could get by. The radio was already squawking for a response.

“What the hell was that?”

Conn turned around in time for Rae to punch him on the arm. “Ouch,” he said, just registering the aches and bruises from the stunt he’d pulled.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

He rubbed his arm. “I won’t if you won’t.”

“You scared me half to death.”

“Yell and walk,” Conn said, nudging her back to the Caddy. “We don’t have much time before the deputy on the other side decides to come over here and find out why he’s not getting an answer.”

“I think it’s too late already.”

“Fuck.”

That got a reaction from Rae, although it was nonverbal.

“It seemed to be appropriate to the circumstances.”

“I’ll say.”

Conn climbed into the passenger seat of the Cadillac, Rae barely waiting until he was completely in before she took off. “Now what do we do?”

“Drive. And lose him,” he said, shooting a glance at the cop car bearing down on them, and wishing he was behind the wheel. Then again, Rae hadn’t done too badly.

She took off, but she couldn’t seem to lose the squad car on the curving back roads. He couldn’t catch up to them, either, but it was just a matter of time before he called in reinforcements.

“We can’t do this forever,” Conn said.

Rae kept her focus on the road, but she must have agreed, because she poured on the speed, taking the next curve practically on two wheels.

Conn braced himself, marveling at the cornering ability of the Cadillac but keeping an eye out the back window. The cruiser was falling behind, coming into the curve just as Rae steered out of it. By the time she made it around the next bend, the cop was still out of sight. She went another couple of miles, keeping to an insane speed, then taking a left at a narrow dirt lane leading into the forest. She went a couple hundred yards and turned off the lights and engine.

They both turned around in time to see the squad car cruise to a stop at the entrance to the lane. He sat there a minute, long enough for Conn to start thinking about what he’d do if it came to a confrontation. Then he zoomed off, his tires squealing a little on the blacktop road.

Conn had just begun to relax when Rae clutched at him. “Watch the nails,” he said, peeling her claws out of his arm. He looked over to find her pointing out the window with her other hand.

They were surrounded by men in camouflage, almost all of them with a bow slung over their shoulders.