Edge of Midnight (17 page)

A ragged hole appeared in the door.

T-Rex jumped. “Fuck!”

She took aim. “Wrong.” She pulled the trigger. A pane of glass in the door exploded. “I don’t want you to love me. Hate me. I hate you right back, you piece of shit.” She took a step towards him as she shot.

He backed up as the bullet smashed into the wall behind him. His eyes looked blank, startled, as he stumbled out the door. His retreat triggered a ferocious desire in her to give chase. She staggered after him, shooting wildly, screaming out her grief and fury. He limped away, in a lopsided jog-trot. Her shots were all over the place, she had no control, no technique. She was a mindless force of nature.

She would rip that asshole into bloody pieces for hurting Sean.

A Jeep was parked in the fir trees. He sprinted for it, leaped in. The engine roared to life. Liv shot at it, shrieking with triumph as the back window exploded. The Jeep roared into reverse, bounced backwards over the rough ground, right for her. She leaped to the side, rolling head over butt into a green hollow choked with a spiky tangle of bushes. The Jeep bounded over the primitive road. Liv gave chase.

The Jeep disappeared around a curve, the sound retreating. There was an empty click, click under her compulsively squeezing finger.

“Clip’s empty, Liv.”

She spun around with a gasping shriek.

Sean. He wasn’t dead. He was standing there, streaked with blood, hair caked with mud and leaves, but alive. Whole.

Icy doubt gripped her. Maybe she’d snapped under the strain, and he was just a wishful hallucination. She stared at him, eyes welling full.

“It’s you,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. “Uh, you were expecting someone else?”

She pressed her hand to her mouth, heart swelling with joy. A wishful hallucination wouldn’t mouth off at a time like this. He was the real deal. Her genuine, pain-in-the-ass Sean. “I thought you were dead,” she babbled. “He told me he tortured you. He told me he—”

“I thought he got you, too.” He sucked in gulps of air. “Jesus. My nerves are trashed.” He leaned over, panting and bracing his hands on his knees, and shot her a cautious glance. “Could you not point that gun at me, babe? I know it’s empty, but I could still use a break.”

She’d forgotten she was holding the thing. It slid from her fingers, thudded onto the springy mat of pine needles. She plucked his revolver out of the back of her jeans. Held it out to him.

Sean took it, and leaned down to scoop up T-Rex’s gun. That was when she saw the bloody scrapes on his shoulders, his arms, his back.

“My God,” she whispered. “You’re hurt.”

He waved his hand. “I’ve gotten worse playing contact sports.”

“You’re bleeding,” she protested. “A lot. You call that nothing?”

He shrugged. “Compared to what T-Rex had in mind for us, we look ready for the debutante ball.”

She doubled over, covered her face, and quietly dissolved.

“Sorry, princess,” he offered gently. “Didn’t mean to set you off.”

“It’s not your fault.” She straightened up, mopped her face. “You do tend to catch me at a disadvantage.”

“I think you look gorgeous. Sprinting through the woods, tits bouncing, bullets flying…wow. Talk about a fashion accessory.”

Her whole body started to vibrate again. “Please, don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me laugh again. I warn you. I’ll fall to pieces.”

“But seriously.” He laid his hand gently on her back. “You were hell on wheels. That was fucking amazing. The nail in the face, the bite, the gun. I worship at your shrine, babe. Who knew?”

“Hardly.” His admiring tone made her redden with shame. She didn’t deserve it, after the way she’d begged and trembled like a trapped gerbil. “I didn’t put any holes in him.”

“You sent him off at a dead run,” Sean said. “Which is more than I managed to do. You rule. Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Oh, I have,” she quavered. “I do. You never listen.”

He made a harsh, wordless sound, and grabbed her.

Their hearts pounded together, like drums. Sean’s hands clutched handfuls of her hair. “I could hold you all day, but that guy’s going to be back,” he said. “I don’t know what he wants from you, but we better—”

“I do.” The words exploded out of her. “That guy killed Kev.”

Sean let go, and stared into Liv’s face, speechless. His world dipped and spun, changing shape with a violence that made him dizzy.

Kev. Of course.

“He tried to get me to tell him about Kev,” Liv babbled. “He wants to know where the tapes are, whatever that means. He thought I’d been in hiding. It was true. Kev didn’t kill himself. He was murdered. By that guy, and maybe some others. He said ‘we,’ like there were more.”

The tapes. The proof’s in the sketchbook. It’s all there. Dumb ass.

He heard Kev’s dream voice, saw the patient look in his eyes, as he waited for his lame-brain twin to get his shit together and figure it out. It was a paradox, how Liv’s words could blow his mind into total disarray, and at the same time, be the confirmation of something he’d always known. A puzzle piece, set quietly into place.

He’d split his mind apart to deal with that paradox. The strongest, best part of himself, the part that knew Kev wasn’t crazy, had been clubbed into unconsciousness and locked in a closet. The worthless garbage that was left over was what had passed for Sean McCloud.

He was paralyzed with rage. They’d murdered his brother, and fucked with his head about it. Soiled Kev’s memory. Conditioned his whole life. Everything he’d done, everything he was. Every morning that he’d opened his eyes with that wrong, sucking feeling in his gut.

And then they had tried to hurt Liv. His hands fisted, white-knuckled. Liv’s mouth was still moving, but he could not hear what she said. His ears roared like he’d just gone over a waterfall.

But his fury at Kev’s killers was nothing compared to how angry he was with himself. For giving in. Falling for it. Fucking idiot.

He wiped mud off the faceplate of his watch. He had to sharpen up, if they wanted to stay alive. He’d reached the cabin less than ten minutes ago. Davy would have called the cops maybe a half hour ago.

He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, amazed it was still in one piece. Popped the shell, pried the beacon out, tossed it. Con and Davy would be pissed, but it would resolve their immediate ethical dilemma with the cops if he removed himself from their grid.

“Are you in need of medical attention?” His brusque question cut off whatever she might have been saying. “How badly did he hurt you?”

She blinked. “Uh…I hadn’t really thought about it yet.”

He grabbed her hands. Already clotting. He lifted her hair to check the bite, the cut beneath her ear. The cut had stopped oozing, but the bite worried him. T-Rex’s crocodile mouth had to be more toxic than most. “You look OK,” he said. “You’re not going to go into shock on me, are you? Do you feel faint? Cold? Do you have the shivers?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Then we’re out of here.” He scooped her into the circle of his arm and hustled her along beside him at a brisk, stumbling trot.

“Aren’t we…shouldn’t we wait for the police?”

“Nope. We are running for our lives. You got a problem with that?”

She pondered that. “Not exactly. But I would like to be consulted.”

“No time for consultations.” He yanked the Wrangler’s door open, tossed her in. He reached into the back and grabbed the bottle of water that had been rolling around back there. “Rinse yourself off.”

She took it gratefully, and poured water into her hands, splashing with it. He grabbed her right sandal and pried it off. Ripped the upper back from the sole and plucked out a flat cluster of wires and circuits.

She blinked. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, it’s a tracking device. And yeah, I put it there.” He tossed the thing off into the woods. “You going to give me a hard time about it? Go on. I dare you.”

She bit her lip, her eyes wary. “Um, maybe not right now.”

“That’s smart.” He gave her back what was left of her sandal. She held the flapping, ruined thing in her hands, bewildered.

He slammed her door, and loped to the driver’s side. “We’re sitting ducks,” he said, starting up the engine. “We can’t wait around for the cops with just five 357 Magnum bullets between us and TRex. He’s probably planning to ambush us on the road. Or pick us off from up there—” he indicated a rock above them, “—or there.” He pointed at the wall of granite that bounded the lake. “I’ve seen enough dead bodies. I will not let this guy kill you. I have had enough, you hear me?”

“OK,” she soothed. “I don’t want him to kill me, either. It’s just that…wouldn’t we be safer on the road if we were with the police?”

“We’re not taking the road.” He steered around a washed out, yawning hole in the road, and picked up speed, bumping and jouncing.

She gave him a big-eyed look. “Um, excuse me?”

“Offroad. We’ll cut across Long Prairie and hook up with Burnt Ridge Road, which will take us to Garnier Creek, towards Taggert. Don’t worry. This vehicle can handle it. T-Rex’s Jeep could, too, but hopefully he won’t be expecting us to go that route.”

“If you say so.” Her voice was small. “So we’re hiding, then?”

“Until we know who’s chasing us. Kev was smart. They killed him, and got away with it. They are not to be fucked with, whoever they are.”

“But the police—”

“The police didn’t help the last time. I don’t have any reason to think they would help me now. Get your head down.” He shoved down on her head until she sprawled sideways, and dialed Davy’s cell.

“What the hell?” Davy snarled, without preamble.

“We’re alive. So’s the fuckhead. I don’t want to meet up with him again until I have a lot more firepower. I tossed the beacons.”

“You did what? Are you nuts?”

“Tell Liv’s folks she’s OK,” Sean said. “Watch your back. Con, too. Keep Margot and Erin close. These are the guys who killed Kev. They know all about us.” He hung up, and punched up Miles’s number. “It’s Sean,” he said. “Call me back, and enable your scrambler.”

“The scrambler? Jesus, why? What’s going on?”

“Do it.” He hung up, stuck the phone between chin and shoulder as he guided the truck over the rough track. It rang again, in seconds.

“I need help,” he told Miles. “Are you still at the Rock Bottom?”

“Yeah,” Miles said. “We just loaded up the sound system. Why?”

“Is anybody listening to this conversation?” he demanded.

“Are you doing your paranoid freak-out McCloud routine on me?”

“Cut the shit. Get out of earshot. Have you got the fogeymobile?”

“Uh, yeah,” Miles said. “What’s it to you?”

“I want it,” Sean said.

“Do my ears deceive me? You’re willing to be seen in my vomit-tinted, butt-ugly piece of no-testosterone shit?”

“This is serious. I almost got killed a few minutes ago. I need to disappear.”

“Oh. I get it.” Miles’s tone was ironic. “What better way to disappear than the magical invisible car?”

“Exactly.” Sean negotiated around another gaping washout.

“Didn’t Seth give you a fake ID, like he did for Davy and Con? Can’t you rent a car under your false name? Why do I always have to be the schnook with no wheels?” Miles complained.

Sean gritted his teeth. “The rental places won’t open for three hours, I’m covered with blood, and I’ve got a naked girl in my truck.”

“No shit!” Miles breathed, impressed. “Naked? Really? Is it, you know, her? That girl you’re so nuts about? Jeez. Why’s she naked?”

Trust Miles to grasp the kernel of the situation. His own fault, mentioning a naked girl to a guy who hadn’t gotten laid in ages, if ever.

“No time to explain,” he snapped. “You know the Lonely Valley Motor Lodge, in Taggert? Behind the shopping center? Rent me a room. They get trucker business, so someone will be on duty. Got any cash?”

“I can get some at the all-night convenience store,” Miles’s voice had taken on its habitual long-suffering tone.

“Get me some. Ask for a room in back. Don’t say anything to anyone. Get me disinfectant, bandages, surgical tape. And T-shirts.”

“I’m on it,” Miles said. “See you there.”

Amazing, how the mention of a naked girl made a guy perk right up and hop to attention, any hour of the day or night.

Sean gave the truck more gas. They topped the rise out of the cleft of the valley and up onto the road that skirted the Long Prairie plateau. Dawn lit up the clouds into a fabulous range of pinks on the horizon.

Bye bye, road. “Hang on, babe.” He slewed the Wrangler Rubicon around and headed it into the waving, waist-deep meadow grass.

Liv grabbed the door handle and braced herself on the dash as they jounced and tipped. Sean’s face was tight with concentration. She hung on as they skirted trees, bushes, sometimes foundering in the grass, scraping over boulders that dotted the rough terrain.

Her arms felt like they were being ripped from their sockets.

Finally, they intersected a road, barely more than two long depressions in the grass. Burnt Ridge Crest. Thank God. The top of the Jeep was up, but the windows were open, blowing cool air over them.