Crown's Vengeance, The (32 page)

“You’re crazy. You can’t do this.”

“Actually, I can.” Drake turned toward Parker, the gun barrel rising.

“Good-bye, Mr. Chase.”

Six of them, two to his rear, two in front, and two on his right. Erika was his only ally. “Just so you know, Spencer Drake, every single word you’ve said has been recorded by the CIA. The man who was with us when you kidnapped Erika is an agent.”

Drake’s smirk never wavered.

“I was worried that you may bring some type of recording device to this meeting. As such, my security team took the liberty of using an electronic frequency disruptor from the moment you entered my house. Regardless of what you claim to be carrying, this entire house became a veritable dead zone when it was activated. I’m terribly sorry, but your transmissions, if they ever existed, were not received.”

If what he said was true, Parker and Erika were on their own.

“I commend your efforts, Mr. Chase.” The gun came up. Time slowed, Erika’s piercing scream filling the air. With his eyes locked on Drake’s hand, he saw his trigger finger tighten, the gun barrel rise slightly. White fire flashed from the muzzle.

Chapter 52

The sharp whine zipped past his chest, a supersonic symphony of death. Parker twisted, one arm grasping the man behind him. The bullet grazed a searing pain across his ribs, just as he pulled the man around, directly behind his back, and into the bullet’s path.

A sickly thud confirmed what he couldn’t see. With one arm holding the wounded man, Parker tore the pistol from his grasp and fired, two shots slamming into the second guard behind him, red holes blossoming on the man’s chest.

As gunfire erupted from across the room, Parker saw Erika elbow her guard in the mouth, followed by a swift kick to the groin. He was down, and she dove behind the bar, out of sight.

Still holding the wounded man, Parker kept the guy between him and the other guards across the room. Apparently they didn’t care too much for their comrade, because as Parker held him with a forearm across the neck, his entire body shook violently.

Bullets slammed into his torso, which fortunately stopped them from hitting Parker. Unfortunately, this killed him instantly, and the human shield became dead weight.

To his left was a thick leather couch. Still covered by the perforated corpse, Parker dove for cover, shooting blindly as he fell. His shoulder thudded off the polished wooden floor and he scrambled behind the couch, momentarily hidden.

“Get him,” Drake roared over the gunfire.

Two men were dead, one guarding Erika was down. That left two guards and Drake to deal with. He could only hope Erika was still safe.

Parker raised the dead man’s gun and ripped off two shots. It was enough to stop the barrage of bullets, and he poked his head above the couch. Both men to his left had hit the deck. All he could see of Drake was the silver barrel of his gun poking around the corner of the bar. It seemed Spencer was going to leave the dirty work to his minions.

The wooden floor beneath him was slick. When Parker looked down, red liquid was smeared underneath his body, blood dripping from his ribcage where the bullet had grazed him. He ignored the pain, focusing on what he could do against the three remaining assailants. Right now, he needed a distraction.

“I need all security to the main level now.” The group leader’s voice, now a few octaves higher courtesy of Erika’s knee, reached his ears.

Check that. Right now he needed to get the hell out of here.

Gunshots came from behind the bar. A stolen look revealed Erika was at one end, Drake and his revived team leader hunkered down in the hallway, just far enough back that he didn’t have a shot. The other two men were still on the ground, without cover. They spotted his head and opened fire.

He was stuck, and running out of time. If those two guys on the ground surrounded him, it was over. What had his football coach said? The best defense was a good offense.

Parker realized that the couch he was cowering behind didn’t reach the entire way to the floor. Instead, a thin flap of leather ran the length of the bottom, which actually rested on wooden legs about six inches high. When he lifted the flap, he could see underneath it and across the room. Two sets of elbows crawled over the ground, one to either side.

A humorless grin crossed his lips. Two shots and the first pair stopped moving. Two more and the second pair stopped, slumped to the ground. However, Parker had little time to savor his victory.

Shots that had been coming from Erika’s position suddenly stopped, a heartfelt and profane string of curses filling the air. She was out of bullets.

Without thinking, he jumped from behind the couch and started firing in Drake’s direction.

“Follow me,” Parker shouted at Erika as he raced toward the hallway directly behind her. On the way, he scooped up a second gun from the ground, the handle slick with blood. “Move it.”

Her doe-like blue eyes wide with fright, she raced ahead of him, running down the hallway through which he had entered the room while blindfolded. Plaster chips filled the air as they ran, the walls around them disintegrating under a hail of gunfire. Doorways branched off on either side, but he had no idea where any of them led.

“How did you get here?” Parker shouted.

She ran beside him, blonde hair flailing across her face. “Long story. I was blindfolded when I came through this hall, but I think,” she said as he struggled to recall which direction he’d turned upon entering the house, “we take a right up here.”

A dead end loomed ahead, and Parker darted right. The hallway was massive, easily wide enough to drive one of those ubiquitous Suburbans through. In front of them was a single door, larger than the others they’d seen.

“Through here,” Erika said. “I think this leads to a roof.” He twisted the handle, and warm night air flowed inside. A star-filled sky was overhead, small dots of light accenting a bright moon shining down on the house.

Except that house wasn’t the right word. This place was more than a house. It was a sprawling complex, more akin to a college campus than a private residence. One had to look no further than the massive helicopter parked on a rooftop fifty feet away to realize this was no ordinary dwelling.

Angry voices came from inside, and Parker slammed the door shut behind him. “I flew here on that thing.”

The whites of her eyes were brilliant in the moonlight. “So what now? How do we get down?”

“Over there.” He pointed toward the top of a ladder that hung off the roof, two curved metal poles leading down.

He let her go first. Once she was clear, he grabbed the rails and turned to descend.

The door behind him slammed open, footsteps scraping across the rooftop. A flurry of shots from his pistol sent their assailants scurrying for cover, but Parker wasn’t sticking around for this fight.

Fifteen feet below, his feet found grass. Beside the towering mansion, which easily rose forty feet overhead, there was little light, and Parker pressed himself against the outer wall, chest heaving.

“How did they bring you here?”

Erika glanced around, desperately searching for any familiar sign. “We flew here in a jet, but on the car ride from the plane I was blindfolded.”

“Great,” Parker said. “We have no idea where to go.”

“Hold on, I didn’t finish. When I was being held here, before you came, they let me walk around a bit. From inside that room you just shot up I could see a road over there.” She pointed into the woodlands that surrounded them. “Several cars came and went, so it’s not Drake’s private access route. If we can get through these woods, we might be able to flag someone down.”

Overhead, he could hear the men chasing them getting closer. Judging from the number of voices, they’d found help.

“I have a better idea. Come on.”

Given that there was a helicopter parked overhead, Parker figured that they were standing next to a massive enclosed area of some type, maybe a hangar or garage. He’d seen the moonlight glint off polished metal, barely visible around the structure’s edge thirty feet away.

He led Erika around the corner. “Oh, yes. Now this is what I’m talking about.” Parker had been right. They’d been leaning against a garage wall, and sitting in front of him on an enormous driveway were several cars. Actually, it would be an insult to refer to these machines as mere cars. He wasn’t a gear head, but he knew the distinctive black stallion framed in yellow when he saw it.

The car door opened, and a muted overhead light confirmed it. The keys were inside.

“Get in.”

Erika slid into the passenger seat, and when Parker turned the ignition, eight cylinders of Italian engineering whined to life, pure speed emanating with every vibration. He’d never driven a Ferrari. Now was as good a time as any to start.

Molten rubber spread across the ground as he let off the clutch, giving the 458 Spider nine thousand rpm’s of thrust to work with. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. One moment they were sitting still, the next his head was smashed against the buttery soft leather of a racing seat and it was all he could do to keep the car straight. Xenon headlamps flashed to life, just in time for him to see the ninety-degree turn ahead.

He swerved, and unbelievably, the exotic race car hugged the curve like a mini dress on Hugh Hefner’s girlfriend. He didn’t even have to tap the breaks. Erika’s mouth formed a perfect circle.

“Oh my.”

“You still have that gun?” Parker asked.

It took her a moment to speak. “Yes.”

“I hope it’s loaded, because we have company.”

Her head whipped around just in time to see three other pairs of bluish headlights whip around the bend. Orange flashes appeared from two cars, and the rear window on his new racing machine shattered.

“Damn them. You shouldn’t shoot at a car this nice.”

All thoughts stopped when Erika began to fire. Inside the ridiculously small interior of the vehicle, each gunshot was like a bomb, smashing his brain against the inside of his skull.

“Hold on,” Parker shouted, or at least he tried to, but he couldn’t hear his own voice with the ringing in each ear. Ahead of them, the road bent sharply to the left, trees whizzing by at a blinding pace on either side.

He accelerated through the curve, half expecting to slide off the paved roadway and smash into a tree. Of course, he was wrong, and the unparalleled manufacturing that went into every one of Enzo Ferrari’s beauties kept him on course.

“I’m running out of bullets.” She had to shout in his ear to be heard over the roar of wind whipping through the vehicle.

“If we can get on the highway, we’ll be fine. There’s no way they could catch us in this.” As he spoke, the road dipped, and a turn appeared. They had to be getting close.

Parker barely slowed for the curve, the streamlined car firing through the turn like a bullet.

Directly at a closed gate.

“Shit. Hold on.”

Traveling at nearly one hundred miles per hour, he mashed the brake and the clutch, one hand twisting the wheel hard left, the other pulling the emergency brake. With all four tires smoking, the carbon fiber vehicle slid across the pavement like it was sheer ice, hurtling toward the massive double gates blocking their exit.

As they careened to a deadly impact with the unforgiving steel gates, the car skidded around so Parker’s headlights were facing the oncoming vehicles that were now rounding the corner.

Amazingly, the high performance anti-lock brakes came through, bringing the Italian powerhouse to a tooth-rattling stop inches from the gate. Erika grabbed the gun from his lap and lowered her window, already taking aim.

Tires in danger of melting smoked on the asphalt, the car bolting ahead, hugging the left side of the road. All three cars had slowed for the turn, expecting to see a heap of crushed carbon fiber at the gates.

Instead, Erika unloaded her gun, spraying bullets through the interior of one car.

“I think I got one.”

Sure enough, as he whipped around the hard right turn, only two pairs of headlights followed.

“But I’m out of bullets.”

They were headed back to Drake’s stronghold, unarmed and outnumbered.

“Parker, we’re going to run right into them. Whoever’s still at Drake’s place will mow us down.” She was right. They were trapped.

As trees flashed by on either side, perilously close, an idea popped into his head. Born of desperation, it was ludicrous, would never work. He should wait, try to outrun these guys and find a phone to call Nick. But trusting in Nick was what had put them here in the first place. Look how that turned out.

“Put on your seatbelt.” They didn’t have any more bullets, but he and Erika were far from defenseless.

“What are you going to do?”

In response, he hit the brakes and pulled the emergency lever, executed the same one-eighty he’d perfected moments ago. When they ended up facing the opposite direction without hitting any trees, Parker thought that he may have missed his true calling in life.

“Parker, don’t do it. We’ll never survive in this little car.” She could read him like a book, his stony countenance all the confirmation Erika needed.

“This car is worth a quarter million dollars. I’m sure it has good air bags.”

Without waiting for permission, he popped the clutch and hammered the gas, flooding the screaming engine with fuel. Like a missile, they shot toward two pairs of oncoming headlights that had just come into view.

He drove directly down the middle of the paved roadway, aiming to bisect the pair of onrushing vehicles. Mere feet from the road’s edge, thick rows of unforgiving lumber flashed past on both sides.

There was no place to go. Erika screamed, terror joining the roar of air whipping through their windowless car, an ideal soundtrack for the evening. Parker’s eyes were open for the end.

Except it didn’t happen. Right before the three cars would have met in a twisted, shattered mess of broken bones and crushed metal frames, the two oncoming cars veered off to either side, last second losers in this game of chicken.