Accomplice (16 page)

The pillowcase was back over her head and Jessica
could barely breathe. Earlin and his men—she never saw their faces, just the
boots—had stuffed her back into the damned pillow case and back into the same
van. Same seat. Same metallic stench.

The ride was shorter this time.

They stopped somewhere sunny, quiet, and stifling
hot. No people, no traffic. Just dust that slipped between her toes and clumped
into scratchy mud, and heat that dampened her hair beneath the pillowcase as
she sat on the ground near one of the van’s tall tires.

No one had bothered to tell her where they were
going, but she guessed they were out in the desert somewhere. Earlin had called
Cutlass from the van while they drove. She heard the opening words of the call,
but the road noise muffled most of the details.

Cutlass
.

Noah’s boss. Noah hadn’t talked about work much as
they drove across the mountains just a few days ago. So very few days. But
something was obviously wrong. He had mentioned Cutlass once, almost in
passing. Called the man a pig or maybe worse.

Definitely worse.

He was exactly the sort of many that Charles would
have found a way to use. Charles hated hypocrites. Her husband loved party
girls and wastrels, gamblers and gangsters, as long as they owned up to their
behavior. It was the likes of Cutlass, and of Senator Wilson, that Charles
couldn’t stand.  Men who wore their virtue like a Sunday suit, only to toss it
aside when it was time to do the dirty work.

Sometimes she couldn’t understand what Charles saw
in her. She was as much of a hypocrite as the men and women her husband had
blackmailed. She tried to dress nice and play the society lady, do the charity
ball and committee thing. But society, the charities, and the committees would
never have her. They could never get past the image of her spread-eagled in a
Playboy centerfold, or posing for an adult toy catalog. Or the sex video from her
once-agent that went viral after Charles had his first stroke. No one cared
that she hadn’t known that she was being filmed, or that the home video had
been shot several years before she’d ever met her husband. All that mattered
was the big scarlet ‘A’ everyone thought was tattooed on her bare ass.

Charles had never once asked her to change. Never
asked her to quit doing photo shoots—though she did, except a few well-paying
ones. She needed some feeling of financial security and independence. He never
asked her to be anything but what she was.

Like Noah
. She winced at how her gut
twisted as she tried to banish the image of his smiling, clean-cut,
all-American hero face from her mind.

She had tried to change her image, and failed.
Tried to become a mother. Failed at that too. Tried to hide from the press and
live a quiet life with her husband, sketching and painting and travelling a
little. Now here she sat, widowed, wanted by the police, and facing certain
death at the hands of the same scumbags that Charles had always despised. Her
failure had reached new depths.

“Here he comes,” said one of Earlin’s helpers. She
hadn’t caught their names and could only barely differentiate their voices. 
She thought of them as Thing One and Thing Two.

Here who comes?
Her gut clenched with fear
imagining the possibilities.

“He’s got a gun,” said Thing One.

“I have a clear shot,” said Thing Two.

“Don’t shoot until he hands over the package,”
said Earlin.

“I don’t see a package. Just a cell phone.”

Jessica wished they would take off the pillowcase
so she could at least see who was coming.

Cutlass
? That didn’t make sense. Why would
they shoot him?

Harry
? Possibly, but if they were going to
kill him, why not bring him along bound and gagged like she was?

“Set it down and back away slowly,” called Earlin.

“Show me her face.”

Jessica's throat tightened as she recognized the
voice.
Noah
. Noah was here. A desperate hope washed over her, quickly
chased away by anguish. Earlin would kill them both.

“Did you bring the necklace, Grayson?”

“Show me her face,” he repeated.

Earlin gave a huff and Jessica jumped as her
captor's feet came into view. In a flash, her pillowcase was gone and she
gasped at the double-whammy of fresh air and Southern California sun so bright
it blinded her. She blinked and gasped, gasped and blinked until the scene in
front of her crystalized.

They were in the desert. There was little around
except for a dirt road, the van behind her, and a few lonely tumbleweeds lazing
in the sun. And Noah, wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He gave her the
barest once over and then kept his eyes on Earlin, Thing One, and Thing Two.
All three men wore leather shoulder holsters openly over grimy t-shirts that
looked dust-streaked and sweaty. The two henchmen had guns pointed squarely at
Noah's chest.

“Now your turn. Give us the necklace,” said
Earlin.

“You don't think I'd be dumb enough to hand it
over here, do you?” asked Noah. He motioned to the cell phone. “But it’s
nearby. Turn Jessica over to me and it's all yours.”

Earlin pointed his gun at Jessica's head, burying
the tip in her hair. “You have ‘til the count of three.”

Noah stiffened. “Shoot her and you get nothing.
Here, take a look at this.” Noah bent, slowly, slowly and set the cell phone on
the ground, keeping both hands visible all the time. Then he stood up just as
slowly and began backing away.

He stopped about thirty paces back from the phone.
Earlin waived Thing Two on.

“It's a video feed,” the guy said as he jogged
back to Earlin after retrieving it. “Are those the jewels?”

Earlin took the phone and scowled.

“They're not very big.” said Thing Two.

“Bigger'n yours. Now shut up,” Earlin snapped.

“Hand over the girl, and I will give you
directions to the necklace. You go your way. We go ours. And we never have to
talk about this again,” said Noah.

Earlin looked up sharply. “It ain't that easy,
Agent
Grayson.”

***

Noah was an excellent marksman, had fired his
weapon more than once in the line of duty. He'd even killed a man on a sting
operation once in self-defense. But never, ever, had he wanted to pull the
trigger on a living breathing creature just for spite. Not until now.

Jessica looked pale and haggard, her eyes red, her
hair mussed from the blindfold. She was dressed like a cheap whore, in clothes
he knew she hadn't had in her possession just a few days earlier. And she had a
deep purple bruise on one cheekbone that stretched up into her temple.

Avenging that one injury would more than pay for a
lifetime behind bars on Murder One.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump that
constricted his throat and focused on a far less desirable occupation:
negotiating with the cretins in front of him. “It sounds like we are at a
stalemate.”

“Why don't we all ride together,” the man asked
with a wide, gap-toothed smile. “You, her, the three of us. Take us to the
goods, and we will let you two go free.”

Noah snorted. “The only thing around here that
stinks worse than you bozos is that is that idea.”

Earlin's smile turned to a snarl and he swung his
gun around to aim directly at Jessica's head.

“You're forgetting who's holding all the cards,
boy.”

Noah gritted his teeth and tried another tactic.
“Not quite all the cards. What would your boss do if you went back empty
handed?”

The spokesman didn't flinch, but Noah was positive
one of the two lackeys' gun wavered for an instant.

“Think about it. If you believe for one second
that your boss needs you, or trusts you, then you haven't seen enough movies.
Once this job is done, what is to stop him from hiring three more guys to knock
you all off?”

The game was a risky one, and Noah knew that
criminal-types like these couldn't always be reasoned with. They were motivated
by money, blood, and the thrill of the game. All he could hope was that
self-preservation would win out over whatever money and thrills they craved.

“So what you're saying is, we're dead men if we
get that necklace, and we're dead men if we don't? That don't solve our little
problem here, do it?”

“Let me make you a deal. I call my colleagues at
the FBI and you three cough up the name of your boss. The prosecutors will go
easy on you if you bring them a bigger fish for their fryer.” Noah prayed that
Cole was hearing this. The second phone he had tucked in his shirt pocket had
an open connection back to Cole and Tony, but any little move could have
knocked the power off

The man opened his mouth and then shut it again.

Good
. Noah had the man thinking. The two
helpers traded looks with each other. They would be easy pickings.

“Hey Earlin,” asked the helper on the right.

“Yeah what?” snapped Earlin.

“We expecting company?”

***

Jessica held her breath as a dusty black SUV came
into view in the distance. The closer the truck came, the faster her hopes of
living through this encounter fled.

Noah took a couple of slow shuffle walks to one
side and glanced at the car without turning his back on the three thugs. He
shrugged his shoulders and seemed to wipe his face on the collar of his shirt.
It didn't look like he had any more idea what was going on than she did.

Earlin and the Two Things didn't seem to be paying
as much attention to Noah. They stood stiffly, guns dropping slightly as they
squinted into the distance. Earlin's voice sounded odd when he finally spoke.
“You're dead, Grayson.”

Noah just shrugged again.

“Should we hide the girl and the guns?” asked
Thing One weakly.

They could all see that there wasn't time. The SUV
was speeding over the ground, leaving a large wave of dust in its wake, and it
was headed straight for them. It pulled up with a squeal.

“Shit.” Earlin spat into the dusty ground. “It’s
the boss.”

Jessica’s knees gave out and she slowly sank to
the ground as Cutlass climbed out from behind the passenger side, brandishing a
mean-looking gun. His face was a beet red, but he moved with a lethal
deliberation that belied his girth. “You fucked this one up good, Grayson. Drop
your weapon.”

“You first, Cutlass.” Noah’s arm never wavered.

Cutlass smirked as the driver’s door opened and
another man stepped out. He took in the scene with the cynical eye, like he
were sizing up red carpet fashions and finding them lacking. His gaze rested
briefly on Jessica, and he winked at her. “Hola, mi amor. Did you miss me?”

Jessica glared at him around the gag still in her
mouth.

Arturo then turned to Noah, and sucked in his
cheeks, making a pout out of his lips. “You must be Jessie’s little plaything.
Pretty. Very Pretty. Sadly, my gun is much bigger than yours.”

“Who are you?” asked Noah.

“My apologies,” he gave an elegant bow. “Arturo
Castillo. Singer, actor. Lover extraordinaire. Alas, you will not live to enjoy
my talents.”

Cutlass whipped his head around to where Earlin
and the Henchmen stood uncertainly. “Why is he still alive?”

“He didn’t bring the necklace.” Earlin’s voice
sounded shaky.

“Why is the bitch still alive, then?” Cutlass
stalked towards Jessica with a calculating gleam in his eyes.

“He’s got the necklace nearby. We were just
working out a plan to go retrieve it,” said Earlin.

“You stupid, stupid man. Arturo, show them what
happens to stupid men.” Cutlass stopped just a few steps in front of Jessica,
his gun aimed at her temple. He was close enough that she could see the dust on
his wingtip shoes, on the cuff of his pants. She heard Arturo whistle as he
opened the tailgate of the car and something large tumbled out into the dust. A
body.

“Who is it, Boss?” asked Thing One. “Is that
Harry?”

“Wake up time, sweetheart,” purred Arturo. He
kicked the corpse, and it groaned and rolled over.

“Brandon,” Jessica whispered.

Cutlass kept his eyes glued to Jessica’s. His gaze
was dark, tainted with an evil she could barely comprehend. She looked away,
towards where Charles’s son lay in the mud.

“Get up,” growled Arturo.

Brandon pushed himself to his hands and knees,
coughing. Down on the ground with a wild fear in his eyes, he looked a puppy
surrounded by Dobermans “What about our deal, Cutlass? I get you the necklace,
I get my estate back, and we all walk away friends.”

“Too late for that, Kingsbury. You were holding
out on me.”

Sputtering, Brandon stood. “Holding out what?”

Cutlass smirked, the expression sending a fresh
chill of fear through Jess. “My necklace. I suggest you run, Kingsbury.”

“What are you going to do, Cutlass?” asked Noah.

“That’s the fun part of all this, Grayson. It’s
not what I am going to do. You are going to kill him.” Cutlass’s words took on
a ghost of a smile. The man was enjoying this. “According to my report, I got
an anonymous tip. Brandon kidnapped your girlfriend and tried to ransom her for
the missing jewels. I arrived too late to stop the struggle over the gun. Great
story, huh? I should have been a writer.”

“You think anyone will buy that?”

“I have a way with words. They bought my story
about what happened to your father without a question.”

At that, Noah wavered. His arm actually swayed.
“What did you do to my father?”

“Just like today, I didn’t have to do much. Just
massage the report a bit. You are just like him, you know. Both of you
self-righteous bastards with an annoying hero complex. He thought he was saving
the day when he busted in on my deal. And just like you, his arrogance got him
killed.”