Flirting with Disaster (43 page)

“I’m fine.” Dave slammed the back door. They leapt into their seats, pulling their seat belts across them. Dave started the engine, shoved the car into gear, and burned rubber.

“How fast can you get that plane off the ground?” Dave asked.

“We can hop in, start the engine, and go. You get us there, and I’ll put us into the air in a hurry.”

They approached an intersection. Dave sped right through the stop sign, but when Lisa looked down the intersecting street she saw a sheriff ’s car a block away, coming toward them.

“I think they’ve seen us,” Lisa said. “Let’s move!”

A few seconds later, the police car skidded around the corner to follow them, lights flashing and siren blaring. Dave gunned it through town, steering wildly around any cars that got in his way, at the same time laying on his horn to warn anyone who was even thinking about crossing the street.

“Gee, Dave,” Lisa said, her eyes wide and her back plastered against the seat. “You’re getting pretty good at this.”

“Practice makes perfect. How are we doing back there?”

Lisa looked over her shoulder. “They’re still there, but they’re not gaining on us.”

Soon they approached the outskirts of town. Dave maneuvered through the last stop sign, then hit the gas hard. Nothing but open road lay ahead of them. If they could reach the dirt road that ran to the west of Sera’s property and turn onto it without being seen, they were home free.

Lisa looked over her shoulder. “Looks like they’ve fallen back. We may just make it.”

The road was filled with curves, which Dave negotiated with as much speed as he possibly could and still keep all four tires on the ground. Lisa kept looking over her shoulder, but no police car came into sight. Then they came around a bend, and Lisa recoiled.

“Dave! Look out!”

Dave slammed on the brakes and veered hard to the right, but not in time to keep from crashing into the back fender of a police car that was turned sideways in the road. The impact spun it out of the way and smacked Lisa and Dave hard against their seat belts. Dave wheeled their car back to the center of the road and hit the gas again.

“Looks like they radioed ahead to another unit,” Dave said. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m fine.”

Peering out the windshield, Lisa saw the left front end of their car mangled beyond description. “Oh, boy. Is that a problem?”

“We’re still moving. I’m taking that as a good sign. What’s going on behind us?”

Lisa looked over her shoulder. “They’re turning around.”

“Yeah?”

“And coming after us.”

“Shit.”

“There’s our turnoff!” Lisa said, pointing down the road.

Dave hit the brakes, tires squealing, then made the ninety-degree turn onto the dirt road. He hit the gas again, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them.

“Are they still on our tail?” Dave asked.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to see.” She paused, staring hard, trying to make out a car in the midst of all the dust. Nothing . . . nothing . . .

“Damn it!” she said as the front end of the police car came into view. “They’re still coming! We need more of a lead, or we’re never going to make it.”

“I’m going to slow down,” Dave said. “Let them get closer.”

“What?”

Dave slapped his gun into Lisa’s hand. “Do your thing, baby.”

Lisa had spent hours at the shooting range in San Antonio preparing for the worst, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that it would pay off like this.

She took the gun and turned around, glancing down at Robert huddled in the backseat. “Better keep your head down, Robert, or it’s liable to get blown off.”

With that, she blasted out the back window of the car with a single shot so she could see more clearly. Then she zeroed in on her target.

“Are you close enough to hit something?” Dave asked her.

“Drop back a little more, just to make sure.”

Dave eased off on the accelerator. When the car behind them came into range, Lisa squeezed off two shots in quick succession. A moment later, the police car slid sideways, careened off the road, and slammed into a wooden fence. She turned back around and slumped in the passenger seat.

Dave blew out a breath of relief. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Still think I ought to stick to chick flicks?”

“God, no. If I catch you watching a chick flick, I’m taking away your Blockbuster card.”

Lisa pointed ahead. “Okay. There’s the gate leading into the field.”

“Hang on.”

Dave smacked his foot onto the brake, swung the car around ninety degrees, then hit the gas again, crashing right through the rickety gate in a loud crunch of wood on metal. As they sped away from it, Lisa looked out the back window in amazement. The gate was kindling. She turned to Dave.

“Now who’s been watching too many action-adventure movies?”

“There’s something to be said for the direct approach.”

Lisa glanced out the back window again. “Damn it!

“What?”

“They’re coming on foot! If they get within shooting range, we’re going to be in trouble.”

Dave sped across the quarter-mile expanse of field, bumping along the furrows. It seemed to take forever before they reached the grove of trees where the plane was hidden. Dave brought the car to a fishtailing halt, killed the engine, and they leapt out. As he was hauling Robert out of the backseat, Lisa was pulling out her keys and opening the door to the cargo compartment. But as soon as Dave shoved Robert toward it, he started to fight back.

Dave slammed Robert up against the side of the plane, smacking his head against it, then shoved him toward the compartment again. Still he balked, and Lisa knew that with a man his size, conventional methods weren’t going to cut it.

She stepped forward and grabbed Robert by the arm. Spinning him around, she took him by the shoulders and kneed him right in the groin. As he doubled over and gagged in pain, together she and Dave shoved him inside the cargo compartment, then slammed the door and locked it behind him.

“The direct approach,” Lisa said breathlessly. “
God,
that felt good.”

She’d barely said the words when a shot exploded and a bullet pinged against the plane.

“Let’s get out of here!” Dave shouted.

Lisa circled the plane, climbed onto the wing, and opened the pilot’s door. Three more shots went off. She fell into her seat and closed the door behind her. A few seconds later, Dave did the same.

She started the engine. Breathing hard, she gave it some throttle, and the plane started forward, more bullets slamming into it. She swung it around ninety degrees, then accelerated across the field. Looking out the window, she saw the men take aim again.

“Get down!” she shouted.

They both ducked. One bullet hit the nose of the plane, another the rear fuselage. Lisa checked her ground speed, then slowly pulled back on the yoke, and they were airborne. She heard more gunfire, but no bullets hit the plane. They rose into the sky, leaving the gunmen behind.

“Have they hit anything that might bring us down?” Dave asked.

“We’re flying. I’m taking that as a good sign.”

As the landscape fell away beneath them, the engine hummed evenly and nothing seemed amiss. Lisa scanned her gauges. “Fuel is staying level, so I’m assuming it’s not pouring out. Everything else looks good.”

She circled the plane around to head back north. Below them she saw the men with guns and their wrecked car. She imagined just how pissed they must be, and she felt a rush of pure exhilaration.

“We did it, Dave. Look at them down there. Bet they’re cussing up a storm!”

The vindication she felt at that moment was satisfying beyond description. Robert was going to pay for every horrible thing he’d done, and they were going to have the joy of watching it happen. Adam and Gabrio were safe. She and Dave were on this plane together, alive and well, making their way back to the U.S. Life just didn’t get any better than this.

Well, there was one
tiny
problem.

“I guess I’m going to have a little trouble explaining the condition of this plane to the owner,” she said. “Suppose I can convince him that bullet holes give it character?”

When Dave didn’t respond, she turned to look at him. His head was resting against the back of the seat, and he was staring straight ahead.

“Dave?”

He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth, and for the first time she realized how pale he was. Then she looked down at his seat, and what she saw made her heart lurch.

It was soaked with blood.

“Sorry, baby,” he said. “This time it’s for real.”

chapter twenty-four

Every bit of Lisa’s elation fled, replaced by a horrible sense of dread. Dave had taken a bullet. And enough blood coated the seat for her to know that it was far more than a flesh wound.

“Let me see it,” she said.

He slowly moved his hand, revealing a bullet hole in the side of his thigh. When she saw how quickly the blood seeped out she thought she was going to be sick. She paused for a few seconds, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Stay calm. You can’t help him unless you stay calm.

She set the trim to maintain correct altitude, then let go of the yoke. She had to get something over the wound. Stop the bleeding. But she’d left the towel behind, and they certainly hadn’t taken the time to stop and get their bags out of the car. Glancing around the plane, she saw nothing else that she could use to hold against the wound.

“Your shirt,” she told Dave. “Take off your shirt.”

The moment he removed his hand from the wound again, even more blood came out. Lisa pressed her palm hard against his thigh, and he sucked in a breath of pain.

“I know it hurts. I know. But I have to hold something against it. Get your shirt off.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, then gritted his teeth and leaned forward, slipping out of it. She placed his hand against the wound again to help slow the flow of blood.

“Hold on tight to it, okay?”

She poked a key through the fabric of the shirt, then ripped away a piece of it, folding it into a pack.

“There you go messing up one of my shirts again,” Dave said. “Pretty soon I’m not going to have a damned thing left to wear.”

“God, Dave. Please don’t cut up. Not now.”

“Take it easy, Lisa. It’s going to be okay.” He glanced at the yoke. “Shouldn’t somebody be flying this thing?”

“I’ve got it under control. Move your hand.”

He eased his hand away, and she quickly pressed the pack against the wound.

“Hold that,” she told Dave, putting his palm back against it. She tore the shirt into strips.

“Can you lift your leg?” she asked.

He raised his leg as best he could, and she slipped the strips beneath it, circling his thigh and making a knot just above the wound to tie the pack in place. Blood was already soaking through it. She pressed her palm hard against it, and Dave gritted his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I have to hold it tight.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

With his head against the back of the seat, he rolled it to the left to look at her. “Guess this’ll teach me not to mess around getting into the plane next time, huh?” He smiled a little, but she could see the pain in his eyes.

“Dave, I’m so sorry. I never should have gotten you into this.”

“No. It was my decision. I was the one who wanted to go after Robert.”

“But I never should have let you. You’d already done so much for me. To put your life at risk like this—”

“Again. My choice. And everything’s going to be all right. We haven’t come this far for things to fall apart now. Just get us to San Antonio, okay?”

“No. We’re landing in Brownsville. It’s only an hour away. I wish I could put down before then, but there’s nothing between here and there but open country. I’ll make sure they have an ambulance waiting.”

“What about Robert?”

“I’ll ask the controller in Brownsville to contact customs agents in San Antonio and tell them what’s happening. They can arrange to have agents in Brownsville waiting to pick him up.” She paused. “And I’ll have them call Alex. He needs to know what’s happening.”

Dave looked for a moment as if he wanted to object. Then he glanced down at the blood seeping through the bandage on his leg and simply nodded. That was her first indication that he really did know what a dangerous situation he was in, and her own apprehension took a quantum leap.

Lisa radioed ahead and explained the situation. As she was asking them to contact Alex, she started to imagine what it would be like if she had to tell Dave’s family that the worst had happened. They already thought he was crazy for having anything to do with her. If she ended up getting him killed . . . oh, God, how was she ever going to deal with that?

Even though Dave was losing blood, for the first ten minutes or so he seemed alert. But by the half-hour mark he started to get groggy. And no matter how hard she held the pack against his leg, blood continued to seep out, eventually dripping to the floor below.