Exchange of Fire (21 page)

He grabbed the stapler off his desk and threw it against the wall.

“The rain should hold off until about four o’clock today. If you have any outside plans for the holiday, I’d suggest you get ’em in early.”

Grady leaned forward in the driver’s seat and peered up. Thick gray clouds blanketed the sky, confirming the radio announcer’s prediction.

“Just wait until after two,” he muttered, thumping back in the seat and rubbing at the corner of one eye. He had kicked everyone out of the center around nine last night, unwilling to risk one more person showing up to further bomb his day. The second he’d gotten home, he hadn’t done much more than kick his boots off and drop onto his mattress. Blessedly, he managed to score about eight hours of solid sleep.

He passed the road that would take him down into the valley where Gradwick was located, supposedly not needing to bring anything. Doreen had assured him the farm had plenty of sports equipment and all kinds of other activities to keep the kids occupied.

Should be interesting.

Sandra would’ve gotten a kick out of seeing the kids enjoying the fresh outdoors. The sentiment popped, unbidden, into his head, hardening his stomach. Damn it. He didn’t want to think about her right now. He rubbed his chest. How could he just discover he had fallen in love with a person he hadn’t really dated? And why in the hell did yesterday’s revelations and the blowup afterward make him feel like he’d just experienced a breakup?

A sharp pain stabbed his heart. It was worse than that, actually; the future he had fantasized about no longer existed.

He turned onto Doreen’s road and groaned. Plastering a smile on his face as if his entire world hadn’t turned to shit was the last thing he felt like doing. He still hadn’t figured out how to answer the “Where’s Sandra?” question he knew he’d hear at least a hundred times from the kids and adults.

Sandra hadn’t just ripped his heart out; she’d dumped a clusterfuck in his lap—multiple ways over. If he didn’t believe in supporting this cause so much, he’d turn the Range Rover around and bury himself in the center.

He glanced at the clock: 10:28 a.m. Another half hour before the event began.
Oh boy.
Hopefully, he could immerse himself with the setup so he wouldn’t have a chance to think about Sandra or the heavy weight making it hard to breathe easily.

He paused at the bottom of the steep dirt driveway and exhaled.

“Only four hours of hell. You can do this.”

The Range Rover had all kinds of sensors positioned throughout that would automatically change it into four-wheel drive if needed, so he didn’t worry about handling the ride. After pulling out of a third pothole, he began to worry how others would fare, though.

After he cleared a sharp bend, a wide-open vista greeted his eyes. The driveway smoothed and he had no trouble pulling in beside a large red dually truck near the barn. He hopped out and inhaled the fresh air. The scents filling him were different from what he typically breathed on his portion of the mountains. A freshly mowed meadow stretched for acres. The split-rail and barbed-wire fence penned in quite a few heads of cattle and horses. To the side of the barn, a smaller fenced-in area held a pair of mules and a chicken coop.

The farmhouse seemed to be the central fixture between the meadows, forest of trees, multiple barns, and stables. None of the structures screamed
We have gobs of money
, but they were definitely well cared for and maintained.

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” Doreen McKenna called, sauntering in his direction from the stables.

He glanced down at his khaki cargo shorts, green T-shirt with the word
MARINES
as well as the corps logo, and his old pair of combat boots. “I’m hardly a fashion statement,” he replied, adjusting the Carolina Panthers cap on his head. “But thank you anyway.”

He had debated this morning whether to wear a Gradwick polo, but decided in the end to go casual. Experience taught him anything could happen in the great outdoors. With a group of kids who didn’t have much experience on a farm, let alone with live animals, he figured it was better to stay casual.

Doreen obviously had a different point of view.
Ho boy.
One glance told him he’d have to stay on his toes to escape whatever scheme she had hatched this time to hook him. Her denim shorts bordered on being classified as a bikini bottom, and the cherry-red tank top molded against her ample chest. The bra underneath worked overtime to push her breasts up and form a deep valley of cleavage. She had curled her normally straight chocolate brown hair and clipped one side up with a big red flower.

The only two things sensible about her appearance were her work boots and foregoing makeup. Not that she needed the stuff. She had unblemished skin and a cute row of freckles bridging her nose.

The green tractor parked on the other side of the barn grumbled to life. Her father put it in first gear and slowly rumbled forward. A flatbed trailer hitched to the back dutifully followed along as the man headed down the driveway.

Grady gave the man a two-finger salute when he drove by, and her father returned it with a small smile. The thick leather skin and deep tan spoke of the amount of time he spent in the sun, taking care of the farm. His John Deere cap appeared worn, and his jeans had long since lost that crisp look, but the solid gray T-shirt framed a muscular physique and showed he wasn’t afraid of hard work. Grady had a lot of respect for the guy.

“He’s going to wait at the bottom for anyone who can’t or doesn’t want to try making it up the driveway.”

Grady breathed out. One problem down. “The kids’ll love that.” He attempted a smile as he scanned the land. “Has Cecilia arrived yet?”

“She called to let me know she’s on the way. Said she’ll have the food going not too long after she gets here.” Doreen shoved the tips of her fingers into her front pockets—how they fit, Grady hadn’t a clue. “I told her to plan on serving around noon. Hope that’s okay.”

“Fine with me.”

Doreen dipped her chin and peered up at him through her lashes. “So . . . where’s your sidekick?”

And so it begins.
“If you mean Sandra, she can’t make it. It’s just me today.”

A grin spread across her face and her eyes brightened. Thrusting her breasts out, she said slowly, “Really. Sorry to hear that.” She traced a finger down his forearm. “Don’t worry, we can handle this together.”

Grady tried to hide his cringe. Handle this together?
Suck a duck.

“Grady!” a small voice cried.

He had just enough time to center his body before the ten-year-old boy launched himself into his arms.

“Whoa there, Parker.” Grady wrapped him tight and scooped up his thin body. “You’re getting so tall! When did you start growing?”

Parker attempted to cut off Grady’s circulation with a bear hug. He didn’t mind, though. This kid deserved all the love and attention he could get. Without his father—who had been taken much too soon—to guide him, Parker’s genius IQ was going to get him into trouble. Grady felt sorry for the grandfather. The high intelligence had not exactly flowed from Doreen’s side of the family. Dealing with a boy who probably already outsmarted him had to be tough.

A small sheen of tears coated the calculated expression in Doreen’s eyes. Damn.

He bent over and put Parker on his feet. Rumpling the kid’s hair, he asked, “So, whatcha been up to?”

Parker ducked his head and scraped his toe in the gravel. He mumbled a few words, but Grady had no clue what the kid had said. He glanced at Doreen, but only glimpsed an embarrassed grimace in her eyes.

“Speak up, man. I’m old, remember? I can’t hear you.”

Parker lifted his chin and gazed at Grady with chagrin. “I’m grounded.”

“Oh, yeah?” It took all of him not to smile for real. “What’d you do this time?”

Down his head went again. Wiped his nose. Scratched his chin, then, “When I got home from Gradwick two weeks ago, I used some of the wood in Granpaw’s stash without asking and built a go-kart like yours.”

“Wow.” Grady rocked back on his heels. “I’m impressed. Did you get it running?”

The kid’s head snapped up and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. “Yep. Need a better engine than Granpaw’s old push mower, though.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Doreen scolded.

Grady looked to the west, but shot Parker a wink. “I think I see engineering in your future, my man.”

The throaty growl of the tractor cut off further conversation. The trailer teemed with kids and adults all oohing and aahing as it rumbled into view.

Showtime.

***

Mars turned the stolen Nissan Sentra onto the winding road behind Gradwick Adventure Center. He passed a few businesses such as an auto-body repair shop, gas station, and local fast food place, but for the most part the street remained barren. Thank God he wasn’t claustrophobic; between the high rocky face crowding both sides of the road and the trees topping it, a tunnel effect formed. Though, intermittently, the left side would drop away, revealing pieces of the plateau below. Why in the hell did these people live in this mountainous town? Nothing was close, and everything seemed to be a pain in the ass to get to.

Spotting the cluster of crosses driven into the ground at the latest open section, he made a U-turn and parked the car on the shoulder. There wasn’t much room, probably the reason for the death tribute, but he managed to clear the road.

He twisted to grab his binoculars off the passenger seat and froze. Stabbing pain flared across his throat, making him suck in a breath. His hands flew to the bandages now ringing his neck as a sheen of unwelcome moisture crowded his eyes.

Goddamn Cappy.
He gently probed the area, ensuring the first aid tape hadn’t lifted off his skin. The pair of latex gloves he now wore so he didn’t have to wipe the car down dulled his sense of touch, but it didn’t seem like anything had come loose.

He had almost bled out last night waiting for the local pharmacy to close. A man holding a bloody shirt to his throat and hand would’ve stood out too much to go in when the place was open. Besides, on the slim chance the pharmacist didn’t call the cops, he wouldn’t have been able to give Mars anything for the pain without a prescription anyway. Mars had slipped on a pair of latex gloves he bought at the supercenter earlier and broke in, raiding the antibiotic and narcotic sections as well as the first aid aisle.

Holing up in a room he had rented near a truck stop when he’d arrived, he treated the area and swallowed a set of pain meds, not waking up until this morning.

All morning, during his quasi sleep-yet-waking-up-from-the-drugs phase, he imagined the type of death he wanted Cappy to experience. He hadn’t finalized it yet, but he knew it would involve
lots
of pain first.

By now the burglary of the pharmacy had been reported to the police, forcing him to keep the lowest profile possible. With the white bandages on his left hand and neck, he might as well wave a flag that said
I did it!
With the weather holding steady at eighty-five degrees, he couldn’t hide the injuries behind a turtleneck either. It was bad enough he had to wear his long black trench coat to hide the small arsenal strapped to him.

Straightening in his seat, he grabbed the binoculars and pushed out of the car. He popped his collar up, hoping to cut down on the visibility of the bandages, and strode toward the trees. It only took a few seconds to assess that the entertainment center remained closed, the mechanics were still busy working even though it was a holiday, and only one other car was parked in the lot. A different one than yesterday, and the black Range Rover was missing.

He scribbled the newest car’s license plate down underneath the ones he’d gotten yesterday and climbed back in the car. Carefully twisting so he didn’t loosen the butterfly bandages holding the torn skin of his throat together, he lifted the pink paisley laptop off the passenger seat.

Why couldn’t he have found a car that had a normal computer in it? Grumbling, he entered his password to his online storage account and accessed the list of programs he kept on file. It paid to keep friendships with hackers who had no qualms accepting his money to write the type of software he needed.

He opened the one that allowed him access to the Department of Motor Vehicles records and typed in today’s license plate. A name, address, date of birth, make and model of the car, and the driving record returned. Nothing stood out except the guy was twenty-one. Seemed a little young for Delta Squad to have any interest, but he wrote all the information down in his log anyway.

Next he entered in the Range Rover’s license plate. Three seconds later he sat up. He double-checked the number he’d written in his log against the one in bold letters at the top of the screen. They matched, yet they didn’t belong to the Range Rover.

Excitement eked through his veins.
Now we’re on to something.
He wrote the address down and smiled.

“Well look at that.” He ran a gloved finger over the listing he had for Wraith, then gazed at the latest anomaly. Practically neighbors. She must have switched the plates at some point, hoping to protect the Range Rover driver.

If Mars found
him
, he’d find
her
. And all he had to do was run her neighbors’ plates through the program to find the real owner.

Carlos readjusted the air-conditioning vents for the third time.
What the hell is wrong with this limo?
A bead of sweat trickled along his hairline. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at the moisture. Was that his pulse? He held two fingers to his throat; damn blood pressure. If the stress of this job didn’t get him, heart failure would.

His cell phone rang. Snatching it out of the cradle beside him, he glanced at the display. “You had better be calling with news, Emilio.”

“I just heard the most interesting thing through our network,”
his nephew replied, seemingly unperturbed by Carlos’s curt tone.
“Supposedly, a dealer in North Carolina opened fire in a store parking lot, then proceeded to chase a car throughout the city.”

“What?” Carlos sat up, swiping away more sweat. “Why?”

“Something about a drug dealer out for revenge.”

Just what he needed. More ammunition for the family to use against him. “You verified none of
our
dealers were involved, right?”

“Right. Not one of ours,”
Emilio answered, as if he’d anticipated the question. Good boy.
“They know the penalty if they bring our operation into the public eye.”

“Death not only to them, but their entire family.”

“And their women would help revitalize the slave-trade business,”
his nephew finished.

Carlos scratched his chin. “Something doesn’t feel right about this. Look into it further. I want to know every possible detail.”

“Sí, Tío.”

“And, Emilio, I’m expecting answers about the bitch who blew up my building and burned my face. Squeeze your contact harder and lean on our network. Someone’s seen something. Make them talk.”

***

Grady popped the last bite of his cheeseburger into his mouth and tossed the plate into the trash can.
Only an hour to go.

So far the day hadn’t been total torture. He’d only thought of Sandra every twenty seconds.
Sandra would’ve laughed at this,
or
Bet she’d have won first place in that. If Sandra were here, that kid wouldn’t have goaded the others to try to capture a mule.
And so on.

He grabbed a wet wipe from a warehouse-size box Cecilia thoughtfully supplied and wiped his fingers. How could he have misjudged Sandra’s character so badly? A coldhearted killer? Never would he have pictured that trait in her. Some of her teammates, definitely, but not Sandra.

Don’t you mean Wraith?

He twisted open a water bottle and chugged half the contents to calm his quickening pulse. How could the woman who volunteered to oversee every birthday party or kid function at the center actually be a trained secret operative?
Because she needed a place to hide and decided to use your customers as a way to forgive herself.

He slammed the empty bottle onto a nearby table.
Goddamn it.
He rubbed his chest. His broken heart stuttered and thumped heavily. A person couldn’t be
that
good of an actress, could she? Her easy, open laugh during those events didn’t seem forced or calculated; she genuinely appeared happy. The kids loved her too. And it’s damn near impossible to fool a child. Most adults ignore their instincts or make excuses for what they sense, but not a kid. Sure, they may not understand the cues their body has picked up, but they know who they like to be around and who makes them want to run the other way.

The kids flocked toward Sandra. No way could they
all
be suckers, right? Right?

“There you are,” Doreen trilled, sidling up beside him.

He paused and blinked. How in the hell did he end up inside the barn? The long face of one of the horses in a stall stared at him as it chewed on some straw.

“Time for that ride you promised earlier?” she asked, wrapping her hands around his right arm and leaning into him. Her breasts smashed into his side, trying to suck his arm into their cleavage. “I’ve got plenty of riding experience. I can show you how good I am at straddling.”

He choked. Dear God; guess she was through with subtlety and seizing the moment.
Fuck.

“Whatsa matter, sugar?” She traced a finger down his pec, then whispered, “Skittish to give it a try? Nothing to worry about; I’ve got everything you need.”

He clasped her hand, flattening it against his chest to stop its descent toward his crotch. He peered down at her and had to catch his reflex to flinch back. How did her lips get so close?

“Hate to interrupt such a romantic moment,” an icy voice said, sounding anything but sorry.

Grady’s gaze flew forward, and the air rushed from his lungs.
Fucking figures.
He let go of Doreen’s hand and disentangled his arm from her grip. Talon stood near an empty stall with his hands gripping his jeans-clad hips. Scruff filled the bottom half of his face, like he carelessly bypassed the razor in his shower this morning and on his T-shirt was a picture of a large camera with the caption
I SHOOT PEOPLE
underneath. If Grady didn’t have the urge to hurt the man, he’d laugh at the ironic statement.

“My, my,” Doreen oozed, straightening and fingering the edge of her tank top near her breast. “Are you two related? Third or fourth cousins perhaps?”

“No,” Grady replied through clenched teeth.

“Well.” Her gaze traveled down Talon slowly, her eyes practically gobbling the man up. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Maybe the Fates would finally show him some mercy and have Doreen move on to Talon.
Please, God, give me a break.
Let that asshole fend off her advances for a while. His conscience pricked. The only one who’d get hurt by that would be Parker. He couldn’t let this psycho anywhere near that special boy.

“Don’t bother, Doreen, he’s hung up on someone else,” Grady said, not breaking eye contact.

Talon’s emerald eyes flashed. “And you’re clearly in the throes of grief over your breakup yesterday.”

Doreen’s head whipped up. “Grady, is this true? I didn’t know you were dating anyone, let alone that you’d broken up with her.” Her hand smoothed up his bicep. “You poor thing. No wonder you’ve been sad and distant today. How devastated you must be.”

Damn it. He didn’t want to talk about emotions with this prick around. “Thank you, Doreen.” He casually moved out of her reach. “I need to talk to the party crasher alone. Can you handle the next activity without me?”

Confusion and a level of anger raced across her face. “Sure,” she snipped. “No problem. I guess I’m not important enough to introduce to your friend anyway.” She threw her nose in the air and trounced out of the barn . . . with as much wiggle as her hips allowed.

He waited until she left, then followed as far as the overlarge entrance, wanting to keep at least one eye on the event and ensure no one overheard their conversation. “What are you doing here?”

Talon stopped beside him, surveying the organized chaos. “Well, it’s not tapping the first piece of tail that throws herself at me, that’s for sure.”

Grady’s blood pressure spiked. “Leave Doreen out of this. You don’t know the first thing about what’s been going on today. You can’t come in here making snap judgments like you’re God.”

“I know exactly what you’ve been doing all day, asshole. I’ve been assigned to you since you left your house this morning.”

Grady snapped his gaze toward the man. “What? What do you mean assigned to me?”

“That Southern IQ troubling you again? What do you think I mean?”

“You guys have been keeping tabs on me?” His hands curled into fists. “Following me after I told you all to leave me out of your fucking spy war?”

“Wow. What does she see in you? It’s not your quick wit, I’ll tell you that.” Talon leaned a shoulder against the wooden frame and feigned thinking it over by tapping his chin. He snapped his fingers. “I know! It has to be your charm and loyalty . . . oh wait. I just caught you about to screw the town tramp. It can’t be that.”

“Go fuck yourself, Talon.” Grady refused to expend energy defending himself. The asshole wouldn’t listen anyway.

“I could. I have.” He lifted his chin, his eyes glinting. “But I think we both can agree it’s more satisfying with a partner.”

Grady sucked in a breath and took a step forward, crowding into the man’s space. “How dare you fling part of a private conversation I had with Sandra in my face?” He couldn’t control his low, shaking voice. “Did you stick around and watch us too?”

Talon pushed away from the wall, filling in the space until they were mere inches from each other. “We going to fight now or attempt a civilized conversation? I can go either way.”

Everything in him wanted the fight. His body coiled while he calculated the odds of winning. They had approximately the same height, weight, build; hell, even hair color. In other words, physically, they were pretty evenly matched. Skill set, though, that was a mystery.

A child squealed and a group of kids laughed, breaking through the red haze clouding his mind. While the prick deserved the beating he begged for, this was not the place or venue to deliver it.

“Why did you decide to show yourself now if you’ve been lurking all day?” Grady asked, stepping back to help clear his head. No amount of counting was going to help cool the rage simmering in his veins.

Talon turned away, resting his shoulder against the frame again, the muscle along his jaw ticking. “I’m trying to take the high road for once and talk some sense into your thick head. You got it wrong about Wraith.”

Grady crossed his arms. The last person he wanted to receive relationship advice from was this prick.

“The woman you got to know over these last few months,” Talon said, “I imagine is the same woman we’ve known for years. Sweet, warm, kind . . . sound familiar?” Talon’s eyebrow arched, but he didn’t give Grady a chance to respond. “Her heart’s so big, she refused to give up on a miserable bastard like me when we first met. She just kept pestering and prodding—sometimes with an iron fist, other times with a soft touch—until I couldn’t help but love her.”

Grady yanked his gaze away from the kids attempting the egg toss. He kept his clenched hands at his sides as his inner caveman beat against his brain, yelling,
MINE!

“I’d give her anything she wanted if it was within my power,” Talon continued. “But she’s chosen you, asshole, and you threw her away.”

Breathe, Grady. You just vowed not to beat him in front of the children.
“That sounds an awful lot like a man in love,” he replied in a low, hard voice. “I’m going to ask you straight up: Are you in love with her? Because everything I hear and see shows me you are.”

“Doesn’t matter what I feel; what matters is what I do about it.” Talon faced the small crowd in the meadow and fiddled with a thin leather band around his neck. The necklace popped from beneath his T-shirt, and the silver spiraling dragon pendant twirled with the movement. “I flipped a coin, and talking to you won over burying a knife in your heart for hurting her.”

Prick.
Though a small part of Grady wondered if the man had actually done that. He wouldn’t put it past the imbalanced jerk.

Talon let go of the team emblem and patted his side before pulling out a black-bladed Ka-Bar. He flipped it absently between his hands, and in the dull, cloudy light Grady saw a line of text etched into the blade. He couldn’t make out the words.

“You claimed you were falling in love with her, yet you’ve all but destroyed her.”

The cheeseburger soured in Grady’s stomach. “It’s past time for you to leave.”

Talon didn’t move. “She trusted you, overrode our protests and confessed information that compromises all of us because she believed in you so much . . . and you condemned her for it. Not just condemned, but fired her from your company and kicked her out of your life. How is that loving her?”

Each word jabbed against his churning gut. “She targeted me from the beginning and lied about it.”

Talon rounded on him. “She ran
to
you because you built a safe haven and she needed a sanctuary. She lied because she
had
to. Didn’t you hear her defy Cappy’s orders? This shit’s real, asshole. Not make-believe.”

Grady couldn’t seem to take a full breath.

“You’re right to be pissed about her intentions to use you and those kids to heal.” The knife flipped faster between his fingers, and his voice notched higher. “But sac up. Her falling in love with you wasn’t part of the plan either, but it happened. Haven’t you figured out that’s why she didn’t move on? It wasn’t because she’s this evil monster, relishing the thought of assassins running freely. It’s because she thought she’d found a home.” Talon tapped the tip of the knife against Grady’s breastbone. “And you cursed her for that, sent her fleeing again. We almost didn’t catch her.” A hard, bitter glint stole over his irises. “I just got her back from the dead, you selfish son of a bitch. I won’t risk losing her again.”

Grady knocked the knife away with the back of his hand. “Are you threatening me?”

Thunder rumbled overhead.

“If you have to ask, Southern IQ . . .”

Grady straightened, his muscles bunching tight.

Talon jammed the knife back into its hidden holster. “I’ll ask you this: Have you ever listened to sobs that sound like they’ve been wrenched from the soul?”

Deep rolling thunder boomed again.

Talon peered up at the sky, then at Grady. “As I said earlier, it matters what I do about my feelings.
I’ll
be the one picking up the pieces you left behind and holding her as she cries. And
I
won’t look down my nose at her for being her wonderful self.” His irises sparked and he lifted his chin. “
I’ll
help her see she doesn’t need
you
.”

Talon pivoted on his heel and strode out of the barn just as the rain came pouring down.