Beholden (23 page)

“I can’t be certain, of course,” he wound up, “but I don’t believe that if Russo’s men had tracked us that far, that they’d
have left until they’d gotten us, too.”

“That sounds plausible,” Bob said from his home in Phoenix. He had a private secure line that only his agents used. “However,
I do have an upsetting piece of news for you.”

“Go ahead,” Luke said, revealing nothing by his expression since Terry was watching him.

“Nick Russo gave our tail the slip. We believe he’s in California.”

“Along with the other one?”

They were used to one another, of speaking in coded phrases. “We’re not sure where Ozzie Swain is, although he might be. He
hasn’t been spotted since this all began. Something else you should know. Our man trailed Nick to
Sedona last week. He asked around and located your house. Our man visited with one of your neighbors who told him that he’d
talked with the fellow in the picture he was shown, and he’d told the man that the new owner of the ranch had been there remodeling
all summer, then left abruptly and hasn’t been back in weeks.”

“Shit.” The oath was out before he could check it. He turned his back to Terry. “How the hell did he pick up the scent?”

“Nick’s a lot of things—cocky, brash, unpredictable. But he can be cool under pressure when the need arises. We know the Russos
have a lot of connections. Once they knew the Feds were on the scene, they took things to their logical conclusion. I also
have a feeling that Nick wants to finish the job he started on you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Well, forewarned and all that. He may not recognize me. The beard’s back. Unless the neighbor told
him that, too.”

He might have guessed he’d let himself go shaggy, Bob thought. Luke had always disliked the clean-cut look. “How’s Terry holding
up?”

“All right. Some days better than others.” He kept his voice low, chose his words carefully.

“I have a suggestion, one I doubt Terry’s going to like. But we’ve discussed it at this end and we agree that it’s the best
shot she has. I can set it up along with another safe house if she agrees.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“You mentioned she needs more corrective plastic surgery. We feel she should give serious consideration to allowing the doctor
to alter her features somewhat. I talked to a doctor here. It can be subtle, yet cause a dramatic difference. Change the cheekbones,
adjust the angle of the jaw, alter the nose a bit. Then with a good wig and colored contacts, she’ll look like a different
person. If you’re bearded and wearing Western clothes, which I assume you are, staying
in the rural places you’ve been, you’d both have a different look.”

Yes, but his changes could be shaved off in minutes and hers would be permanent. He’d seen pictures of Terry before her accident.
She’d been lovely, with high cheekbones, big blue eyes and beautiful blond hair. Except for the shorter hair and the two small
scars, she was lovely now. He was certain she could hardly wait to get back to being exactly as she once was.

“I don’t know, Bob.” Terry hadn’t even wanted to discuss the minor surgery required to remove the two remaining scars on her
face. Despite Bob’s assessment, the procedure he was suggesting sounded pretty major to Luke. And probably fairly painful.
Terry had already been through so much pain, and her mental state was still very fragile.

“We can’t force her to do it, of course,” Bob said into the silence. “You know I hate to even have to suggest it. But we want
her alive and this is her best chance.”

“It’s a long shot.”

“Well, see what you can do to persuade her. Meanwhile, I’ll get in touch with the doctor I have in mind up that way. You feel
you’ll be okay at the inn for a day or two?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I have a safe house up near Truckee that I feel would be perfect for Terry’s recovery. I’ll set it up. I can even call
Sara Baines and send her up to help.”

“No, don’t do that. We can manage.”

Luke had nixed the nurse quickly. Too quickly. Bob hesitated, wondering if he sensed a problem. “Is everything all right otherwise?”
he asked, his tone solemn and questioning.

Luke bit back a sharp retort. “Yeah, everything’s just dandy.”

Tanner was getting touchy. Not a good sign. As soon as Terry’s surgery was over, he’d make it a point to pay them both a visit,
Jones decided. “The trial won’t take place until
either the end of this month or sometime next.” He could almost feel Luke’s frustration ripple over the phone lines.

“Swell.”

“Call me tomorrow. Hopefully you can talk her into the surgery. I’ll have more answers for you then.”

“Right.” Luke hung up and scrubbed a hand over his bearded chin. How in hell was he going to get her to agree?

He swung around to face her and saw that she’d heard every word and, while she didn’t know what Jones had said, she knew something
was up. Bracing himself, he walked over to sit across from her on the other bed.

“No!” Terry swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. She’d listened quietly while Luke had detailed his conversation
with Bob Jones. She hadn’t reacted externally, hadn’t yelled or sworn as she’d wanted to. Now she faced him just as calmly.
“I don’t care what you and Bob and the entire marshals office suggest. I
won’t
go through any more extensive surgery. Period.”

Her quiet anger went deep, he knew. Luke couldn’t blame her. But it was his job to convince her, for her own safety’s sake.

“This isn’t just a whimsical suggestion, Terry.”

At her sides, her hands curled in the bedclothes. “No, it’s a command cloaked in gentle words and for-your-own-good reassurances.
But it’s a command nonetheless.”

“No, it isn’t. The truth is, we can’t make you do this. I’m trying to explain that it’s in your best interest to change your
looks just slightly so that you’ll be more difficult to recognize.”

“That’s bullshit!” She rose and began pacing. “All that pain and helplessness to be changed into something I’m not. And for
what? For a couple of weeks. Then I testify and what becomes of me? I’m no longer who I was.” She stopped near him, her eyes
filled with anguish. “I’ve already
lost so much. How can you ask me to give up even more of my identity?”

He went to her, took her hands in his. “No one can change what you are, Terry. If the accident had marred your face beyond
recognition and they’d have had to reconstruct it from scratch, you’d still be you. Your face doesn’t define you.” He softened
because he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. That’s why I’m asking you to seriously consider
this.”

“I thought you said you could protect me. I thought you asked me to trust you. I did and now you want more. Have you all gotten
mixed up? I’m not the criminal here.
I’m
a victim and I’ve paid enough!” Tears she’d fought to control all but choked her.

“All right, all right.” Despite everything that told him he shouldn’t, he reached for her and gathered her close.

Her body was almost rigid with tension, her fingers bunching in the material of his shirt as she struggled not to give in
to her need to cry out her frustration. He didn’t understand. No one understood.

His hands caressed her back, trying to soothe her. “I was only trying to protect you in the best way I knew how, but I can
see now that it was a mistake.” He felt awkward in the face of her torment, uncertain what to do. “Forget it.” She was small
and vulnerable. He hated what all this was doing to her. “We’ll be all right.”

He meant well. She believed that. But the powers that be were incapable of seeing things as she did, and Luke had to follow
their orders. There was only one way to handle this. She should have known it would come to this.

She longed to give in, to let him hold her, let him make love to her so she could forget everyone and everything. She’d had
one taste of him and knew he could distract her as no one before him had. But she couldn’t remain in his arms. It would be
too easy to allow his comfort to trigger the desire
always there, making her restless and needy. She was so damn tired of being needy.

Terry moved out of his hold and turned, walking to the window. Two stories below, people were still wandering the streets,
people with no life-threatening problems, no men with guns searching them out. Carefree, laughing, uncomplicated people with
happy lives. Like she once had been.

“Maybe Bob Jones is right,” she said softly. “Maybe the only way this nightmare will end is if I just do what he says. I told
myself when I woke up in that Phoenix hospital that I’d do whatever was necessary to make sure the men who caused Lynn’s death
and murdered Don Simon in cold blood were put away. I told myself I could stand anything as long as I knew it would one day
be over.” Slowly, she turned around and met his eyes. “You can tell Bob I’ll do it.”

The abrupt turnabout worried Luke, but he didn’t let her see. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to do anything you feel isn’t
right.”

“I’m sure I’m doing what’s right for me at this time.” She covered her flushed cheeks with both hands. They felt warm to the
touch. “I hope I’m not coming down with something.”

Luke frowned. This was no time for her to get sick. “Why don’t you lie down? You look tired. I think I’ll grab a quick shower.
I feel a little grungy. After your nap, we can go get something to eat.”

Terry gave in to a yawn. “All right.” She’d slipped off her shoes earlier. Now, she pulled back the covers and slid under.
She felt cold all over, yet her face was on fire. She closed her eyes, wanting to blot out the world.

Luke took his time in the bathroom, letting her rest. This ambivalence she was feeling was probably related to the stress
disorder, he realized. He only hoped that later she wouldn’t regret changing her mind about the surgery.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he saw that she was lying as before, only she’d put on her Walkman headset. Music seemed to
calm her frayed nerves. From the dresser,
he gathered his loose change and wallet, put on his watch and grabbed his jacket. It was eight in the evening and his stomach
was reminding him it was long past dinnertime. He walked to her side and touched her arm.

Terry’s eyes flew open and she removed the headset.

“Time to get up and get something to eat,” Luke told her. “You can rest more afterward.”

She shivered. “I’m not that hungry. You go ahead.”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone, Terry.”

“I’ll be fine. Lock the door and I’ll put on the chain. And leave me your gun.”

“But you need to eat. You’ll feel better.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Please, Luke. I just can’t make myself go. Bring me back a sandwich, if you insist.”

He hesitated. He’d spotted a coffee shop next door and a Burger King across the street. One of them would do and neither was
far. The room faced the street two stories up. No one would have access that way. He was uncomfortable about leaving her,
but he’d be gone ten minutes tops.

He looked into her drowsy eyes. “All right. Come put the chain on and
don’t
open the door under any circumstances unless you recognize my voice.”

Sleepily, still shivering, Terry got up and padded after him to the door.

“I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

“Okay.” He stepped through the door. “Oh, Luke?” She waited until he turned back. “Thanks. For understanding.”

He stared at her a long minute, nodded finally, and hurried down the hall toward the elevators.

He was in Burger King, standing at the counter, opening his wallet as the clerk set down the sacks of food when he realized
that something was very wrong. His wallet contained not a single dollar.

It took a moment for the shocking truth to hit Luke.
Muttering a foul oath, he turned on his heel and sprinted out the door, ignoring the surprised clerk calling out after him.

He hit the street running, dodged several cars crossing, raced through the lobby and took the stairs up two at a time, too
impatient to wait for the elevator. The key turned in the lock and there was no restraining chain to keep him from opening
the door. And he knew even before he stepped into the room.

Terry was gone.

Out on the street in front of the inn, Luke forced himself to breathe deeply as his eyes scanned the sidewalk, wondering which
direction to try first. She had a scant ten-minute start on him at the most, and he could walk much faster. There were more
people to the left, the block cluttered with storefronts housing a small boutique, a movie theater, a camera shop, a drugstore
and so on. She’d probably figure she could be less easily spotted in a crowd. He started walking.

He tried to remember how much cash he’d had in his wallet. About sixty dollars, to the best of his recollection. It wouldn’t
take her far. Not enough for much of a plane ticket and the closest airport was San Jose. She scarcely had enough for bus
fare. Where would she head? he asked himself, trying to think as she might.

He’d already guessed why she’d taken off, or at least he thought he knew. Too damn much pressure too steadily applied. Fear
had ruled her life since the moment she’d awakened in the hospital bed in October. Here it was January, and the fear was still
a constant companion, a daily reminder that someone was stalking her. She’d seen what that someone could do when she’d looked
at Don Simon’s bleeding body and heard about her cousin being burned alive in the wreckage. Who could doubt that the killer
meant business?

The pressure of knowing she still had to testify, of trying to keep one jump ahead of the gunman, of staying alive long
enough for the authorities to apprehend all of them. The pressure of living with strangers, of having to relocate because
the pursuers might be getting closer. Then, the final pressure that caused her to blow: the heavy-handed suggestion that she
undergo facial reconstructive surgery.

Damn, what had they been thinking of to put this woman through even more? How much was one individual supposed to take? Her
only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and her life as she once knew it had been ripped from her,
taken, changed, forever gone. Who wouldn’t crack under those circumstances?