Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6) Page 10

  “Wait until they go inside the big house. When I say go, run for the car. Same drill as last time. Shit!” he cursed under his breath, but immediately apologized. “Sorry, Nima.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  “Let’s give these guys something to think about.” He pulled a remote detonator from his pocket, glaring at Ember. “You ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered meekly.

  “Go!” He pressed the detonator and immediately, several explosions shook the ground between the big house and the little house. Obediently, she bolted through the door.

  He pressed his hand hard in the middle of her back, pushing her all the way to the Taurus. He all but shoved her and Nima to the backseat floor. How had these guys found them so fast? His mind going a thousand miles a minute, he was at a loss. Another troubling development—Mother hadn’t given them advance notice. Why not? What the hell was going on?

  Shots rang out. Too damn close! Rory ducked as he turned the ignition. He slammed his door shut. Tires squealed off the brick pavement and the car slid sideways for a minute over the wet grass. Rory growled, jerked the steering wheel into the slide and back again before the tires grabbed hold. More shots sounded and the back window shattered. The car shot forward. Glass sprayed from the back window to the front dash.

  He gunned the engine. The Taurus responded nicely, fishtailing through the green field all the way to the rear of the barn. But the rain had left the hard-packed soil muddy with a slick top layer of no traction. The rear of the car whipped back and forth, the mud transformed to black ice on a green highway. Another shot reduced his driver’s side mirror to dust. The bombs he’d set had offered nothing but temporary confusion, not death like he’d wanted. He had company coming up close and fast behind him.

  Headlights shot bright daggers through the rearview mirror into his line of vision. He growled and gave the accelerator another demanding stab. The car groaned, lifted out of the mud, and its tires caught on what he didn’t know. It sped forward as if he’d salted the ground beneath it. Around the edge of the field he flew, turned abruptly right when the trees gave him an opening, and gunned the car alongside the square patch of trees. No cars followed. Yet.

  The more adrenaline pumped into him, the harder he pressed the accelerator. Now would be a damned good time for Maxwell and Fred to show up and rain hellfire on these bastards. The engine screamed for all it was worth. He rounded the long stand of trees and caught the flash of a bright light in the rearview mirror. What? RPG? No freaking way!

  “Hang on!” he ordered his precious cargo as he swerved hard to the right. Trees buckled to the left behind him, torn apart by the assassins’ determination that meant one thing and one thing only. Death. Huge splinters and sheered-off branches flew through the air. The car lifted two wheels from the ground—two left wheels. For a second, he expected they’d roll, but no. The car righted as if it knew better. Thudding mightily back to all four tires, it bounced, and dug into solid traction one more time. He watched desperately for a road but saw only trees on the right, fields to the left.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! He should’ve scouted the perimeter better, made damn sure they had a rock solid escape plan. Obviously, the few C-4 charges he’d planted weren’t enough deterrent. He pushed the car for all it was worth. Rain blurred the windshield, but even the wipers seemed determined. They flopped, flailed, but kept clearing the rain, mud, and leaves off the glass in front of him.

  Finally, a dirt road appeared alongside another field of tall brown corn. He turned left sharply, the rear end of the car taking out more than a few rows of corn before it decided to follow. But the road was exactly what he needed. It ran straight and true—and north, away from the McCormack estate and hopefully from whoever was trying to kill them.

  He reached around to pat Ember’s back. “How are you doing back there?”

  “Good,” she said, but her voice was shaky. She was scared. Well, so was he.

  “Stay down. Things may get bumpy.” He wanted to pat her back again but didn’t. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone. No bars. “You got a signal on your phone?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “I don’t. The storm might have taken out the nearest cell tower.” That explained why there was no advance notice from Mother. No one knew the trouble they were in. But where were Maxwell and Fred? Had the assassins engaged them prior to the attack on McCormack’s? A sickening sensation gripped his gut. There could only be one reason his buddies hadn’t shown. The assassins had struck again. Help wasn’t coming.

  “How are these killers finding us?”

  “Let’s think about that. What do we know?” He heard the fear in her voice, so he forced calmness into his reply. Leadership training took over. Think better. Analyze what you know. Understand the enemy. Then react.

  “They aren’t tracking us by GPS anymore because we tossed our cell phones. There’s no way they could have a tracking device on David’s car. We didn’t even know we’d be driving it. Neither could they know we’ve gotten new phones.”

  “Right. What else do we know?” He forced her to dig deeper. And above all, keep calm. Hysterical leaders do not inspire troops to follow.

  “What’s left? What do we still have with us that we had back at the temple?”

  She sounded a whole lot more vulnerable than he’d ever imagined Ember could sound. He pressed the accelerator for more. The car surged ahead, corn whipping past them for miles. Damn, this is a huge field of corn.

  Logic got lost when headlights flashed in the rearview. Out of nowhere, a black car plowed sideways into their vehicle, pushing it several rows to the right and back into the corn. Another car appeared on their right, pushing them back to the dirt road and into the first. A third car rammed the rear bumper. They were trapped.

  I need the damned highway patrol. NOW!

  “Hang on!” He slammed the steering wheel first left then hard to the right. It was all he could do to hold it steady and not send the car rolling. The slippery conditions made for an unpredictable racetrack. For a moment both assailant cars at his sides backed off, but too soon they lurched back against David’s family car. Side to side. Metal ground upon metal. Plastic trim flew through the air. The vehicles pitched back and forth as the assailants pushed in for the kill.

  BLAM!

  Ember’s gunshot rang out directly behind him. “You want to try that again, you bastard!” she screamed, firing again. The tremendous heaving groan from a metal body digging into the soft earth from somewhere to his left sounded loud and clear. He caught a glimpse of the car before it flipped end over end into the forest of crushed brown cornstalks.

  Ember changed positions, aimed out the opposite window and fired again, screaming all the way, “I’m sick and tired of you assholes trying to kill us!”

  Tires blew. The car at his right rolled off in another cloud of corn and mud. Rory glanced at his companion. Ember was mad. Her teeth were clenched. Those baby greens looked fierce and deadly. She took another careful aim out the shattered rear window. “There’s no freaking way you’re gonna kill this baby, you hear me! Over my dead body!”

  She missed the shot. The car behind them swerved to the right and sped up until it was alongside Rory. With a slam, it pushed the Taurus farther out of the corn and toward the trees and fence lining the field.

  Rory braked hard. Unprepared for that defensive maneuver, the other car swerved ahead of them. Now Rory pursued his assailant. The minute the other car braked, he punched the Taurus into high gear and roared to the right.

  The other car fell behind, but not for long. In minutes, it closed in alongside the Taurus. With a jerk, it ground against the passenger door. Both cars seemed locked together in equal battle, neither able to dissuade the other from its path. The driver’s window rolled down. A man with a black balaclava covering his entire head sat behind the wheel. He pointed his index finger at Rory like a gun. And that pissed Ember off.

  “You wanna play?” she shoute
d, scrambling to that side of the car. “Suck on this!”

  Rory winced. She’d traded her Glock for the short-barreled, pump action shotgun. Too late the guy ramming them glimpsed his new reality. He swerved, but not before Ember’s blast blew out every window in his car and possibly the guy’s face. Rory couldn’t take his eyes off the road long enough to see what happened. Whatever, the car disappeared into the cornfield and the rain, taking the assassin with it.

  Rory glanced in the rearview. Ember checked Nima’s seatbelt like any dutiful mother after a shoot out with a bunch of murderers. Rain pelted her back through the broken window while she hunched over the child. A mix of tenderness and rage still shifted over her face. Raking her rain-soaked hair out of her eyes, she met his gaze. Instead of the zany techie from the office, a warrior goddess glared back. Righteous fire sparked from those emerald greens, daring him to challenge her.

  “You good?” he asked, trying hard not to smile at the transformation in his partner.

  “I am now. Why?”

  “Just asking.” His lip twitched to smile even as his stupid heart flipped backward somersaults. Why haven’t I seen this side of you before?

  They traveled for more than a half hour before he ventured onto solid pavement. By then the adrenaline rush was over. He pulled the battered Taurus off the freeway at the first service station he found and quickly gassed up. Despite the downpour, Ember was out the car and back before he knew it. She’d bought two coffees, a small carton of chocolate milk and four hot dogs. The entire stop took less than five minutes. When she came back, she sat in the front seat with Nima on her lap and the seatbelt across both of them.

  “It’s raining,” she snapped. “Nima doesn’t need to catch cold on top of everything else.”

  She sounded like an old drill sergeant. He kept his mouth shut. Yes, ma’am, was the only thing that came to mind anyway. Urging the Taurus onto the rain-flooded highway, he floored the accelerator and pressed onward.

  “I called Mother on the payphone back there,” Ember said curtly while she opened Nima’s milk. Authority dominated her voice. “Told her where we were and asked if she knew what happened. You were right. The storm knocked out the power. Police are at McCormack’s, and the highway patrol is looking for David’s car. She said to expect an escort soon. Alex wants the police to bring us in. He’s got someone at his office who can help Nima. I don’t believe it. I vote we keep running. I don’t trust anyone but you.”

  “The drive through the cornfield sure woke you up.”

  The hard glint in her eye faded with a sniffle and a tightening hold on Nima, who wanted nothing more than to eat her hot dog. “They made me mad. I can’t figure how they’re tracking us. I mean, we just left the other safe house this morning—or last night anyway. It’s like they’ve got us on radar. I’m tired of running scared all the time.”

  “How’s Nima?”

  At the mention of her name, little Nima reached up and patted Ember’s cheek with sticky, catsup-covered fingers.

  “She’s fine. What do you want to do?”

  “First, let’s see what happens with the highway patrol. Second, I’m never getting on your bad side.”

  Ember stuck her tongue out at him.

  Rory stayed on the highway for a fifty-mile stretch. No highway patrol appeared. No more assassins, either. Only rain. The fall thunderstorm turned into a torrential downpour, transforming the highway into a slippery water-covered river in some areas. This was tornado weather plain and simple. The car’s wheels hydroplaned, causing Rory to drive slower. Other travelers on the freeway were fewer and farther between. Cold seeped into everything. It didn’t help that the Taurus was without most of its windows. No matter how high he cranked the heater, the chill blowing through the vehicle added to their desperate dilemma.

  Ember huddled protectively with Nima tucked inside her arms, the little one thankfully sound asleep again despite the cold. He shot a sideways glance at the cherubic light on the baby’s face, but she was snuggled against Ember’s lush curves and bosom. He had no doubt he’d have the same look on his face if he were in Nima’s shoes. Lucky little girl.

  Still, it was a toss up, death by automobile or assassin. Rory called it. “How about we find a motel and dig in for the night?”

  She shook her head. “No. Keep driving. We’re not safe anywhere.”

  “The roads aren’t safe, either.” He didn’t argue; just calmly stated the obvious, wanting her to come to the same conclusion. A tremendous stab of lightning flashed ahead of them, adding emphasis. Thunder boomed in less time than he could say, ‘One-one thousand, two-one thousand.’

  Ember was outnumbered. She bit her lip. “It is kinda scary out here. So where, then?”

  What they found in the next town was a broken down motel that offered see-through towels as luxury accommodations and a rickety standard-sized mattress on a repainted metal bed-frame for heavenly comfort. Good enough. A railroad track ran within feet of the narrow parking lot. Perfect. Rory insisted on the room at the far end of the motel because it had two windows, one facing the tracks as well as the one facing the parking lot. Even better.

  He parked the Taurus on the far side where it couldn’t be seen from the street. Cold, wet, and shivering, he ushered his little family into the security of the euphemistically named Over the Rainbow Inn. Ember snuggled the sleeping child against the flat bed pillows, pulling the shabby blanket around her into a nest for extra warmth.

  “Are you going to be okay, Mrs. Dillon?” he asked gently while closing the drapes and turning the window heater to high. At least it worked. A wave of dry heat drifted into the room and across the bed.

  She turned away, wringing her hands. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

  He filled the miniature glass pot with tap water, dumped it into the coffeemaker, and crossed his fingers. “One cup of coffee coming up. How about some leftover chicken salad in the meantime?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  “Stay close. I need to check in with Alex. He may want to talk with you.”

  That got her attention. “Why call him? Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s how they keep finding us? Maybe they’ve tapped The TEAM’s phone lines. Maybe they’ve tapped Alex’s cell. Maybe he’s the problem, not us.”

  Her voice rapped up higher with every logical explanation. She made good sense. As quick as these assassins had been at locating them, maybe contacting The TEAM wasn’t the smartest move. Rory compromised. “Then I’ll call the Highway Patrol directly. There’s no way their phones could be bugged.”

  Ember stared at him, her nostrils flared and breathing hard. She pursed her lips long and hard before she finally agreed. “Okay. That should work.”

  Rory placed a quick call, keeping it on speaker for Ember’s benefit. Apparently he and she were big news, local and national. The sheriff agreed to send an armored car and plenty of backup. He told Rory to sit tight. Help was on the way, and no, he would not notify Alex on the slim possibility Ember was right and the assassins were intercepting TEAM communications.

  She visibly relaxed at the news. “Slim possibility, huh?”

  Rory shrugged. “Hey, he’s a guy. You know how us male chauvinists are. We think we’re the only ones who know anything.”

  She didn’t crack even a glimmer of a smile.

  Rory dished two paper plates of the leftover salad. He offered the dressing, but she refused it. “Come on,” he coaxed. “We’ll both feel better after we eat. A quick hot shower will warm you up. I’ll keep watch.”

  She nodded, close to tears. “My clothes are wet.”

  And that was the problem with all the adrenaline that floods your head and body during the battle. It leaves you high and dry once the fight’s done, tired as heck and sometimes a little emotional. An odd sensation rippled at the back of his mind. This was the first real crack in her composure he’d seen.

  “Mind if I try something?” he asked, taking the paper plate out of her hands and s
etting it on the nearest nightstand.

  “What?”

  “Tyler gets a little crazy at the end of the day sometimes. I think it’s because he was addicted when he was born. Anyway, I used to get frustrated. Nothing I did worked. It was tough listening to a baby scream for hours on end. Drugs would’ve shut him up, but I refused to medicate him. He didn’t need more crap in his little head. Anyway, one night I closed the door to his bedroom and walked out of the apartment. I called my mother because I’m not kidding. I was losing it. She told me sometimes the world is too big for the littlest guys. She said they’re still nothing more than downy little chicks that need someone to keep them from blowing away in the wind. They need someone to hold them together.”

  Ember shot him a questioning glance out of the corner of her eye.

  Rory shrugged one shoulder, darned if this didn’t sound like a big cheesy come on to him, too. But it was true, and best of all, Mom was right. “She told me to wrap him up tight in a receiving blanket like a papoose. It worked, Ember. He’s bigger now, but Tyler still gets spun up at the end of the day. Sometimes it’s all he can do to sit still. I wrap him up tight and snug. We talk about dinosaurs and robots, and the next thing we know, he’s himself again.”

  She licked her lower lip and came to sit beside him. “Now what?” she whispered, her voice trembling as much as her fingers. The poor woman was shivering, but not just from the cold.

  Rory put one arm around her and pulled her in tight. “Now I do this.”

  She leaned into him. “Why aren’t you falling apart? What is wrong with me?”

  He pulled her into his shoulder, his fingers beneath her damp hair softly massaging the nape of her neck. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been in battle. That’s all.”

  “For hell’s sake, Rory. I was an IT tech on a Navy ship. I coordinated datalinks, network diagnostics and corrective system maintenance. I’ve never been in a real battle until today. I’ve never shot…” She pressed her knuckles against her lips when a hiccup blurted out instead of words. “I’ve never shot anyone before.”