Hard to Handle (25 page)

She ran the car at him. He whirled at the sudden noise of an approaching vehicle and started spraying it with machine gun fire.

Jodie ducked down behind the wheel, praying that the weapon didn’t have bullets that would penetrate the engine block as easily as they shattered the windshield of the car she was driving. There was a loud thud.

She had to stop the car, because she couldn’t see where she was going, but the windshield didn’t catch any more bullets. Now she heard gunshots that didn’t sound like that of the small automatic her assailant was carrying.

The door of the car was suddenly jerked open, and she looked up, wide-eyed and panicky, into Alexander’s white face.

“Jodie!” he ground out. “Put the car out of gear!”

She put it into Park with trembling hands and cut off the ignition.

Alexander dragged her out of it and began going over her with his hands, feeling for blood. She was covered with little shards of glass. Her face was bleeding. So were her hands. She’d put them over her face the instant the man started firing.

Slowly she became aware that Alexander’s hands had a faint tremor as they searched her body.

“I’m okay,” she said in a thin voice. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

But he was rattled, and it showed.

“He was going to shoot you in the back,” she began.

“I told you to use the cell phone!” he raged.

“It wouldn’t work!”

He reached beside her and picked it up. His eyes closed. The battery was dead.

“And you stop yelling at me,” she raged back at him. “I couldn’t let him kill you!”

He caught her up in his arms, bruisingly close, and kissed her furiously. Then he just held her, rocked her, riveted her to his hard
body with fierce hunger. “You crazy woman,” he bit off at her ear. “You brave, crazy, wonderful woman!”

She held him, too, content now, safe now. Her eyes closed. It was over, and he was alive. Thank God.

He let her go reluctantly as two other men came up, giving them curious looks.

“She’s all right,” he told them, moving back a little. “Just a few cuts from the broken windshield.”

“That was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen a woman do,” one of the men, an older man with jet black hair and eyes, murmured. “She drove right into the bullets.”

“We’d be dead if she hadn’t,” the other man, equally dark-haired and dark-eyed, said with a grin. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a sheepish smile as she moved closer to Alexander.

“The car’s a total write-off,” the older man mused.

“Like you’ve never totaled a car in a gun battle, Hunter,” Alexander said with a chuckle.

The other man shrugged. “Maybe one or two. What the hell. The government has all that money we confiscate from drug smugglers to replace cars. You might ask your boss for that cute little Ferrari, Cobb.”

“I already drive a Jaguar,” he said, laughing. “With all due respect to Ferrari, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

“I helped make the bust,” Jodie complained. “They should give it to me!”

“I wouldn’t be too optimistic about that,” came a droll remark from the second of the two men. “I think Cobb’s boss is partial to Italian sports cars, and he can’t afford a Ferrari on his salary.”

“Darn,” Jodie said on a sigh. “Just my luck.”

“You should take her to the hospital and have her checked,” Hunter told Alexander. “She’s bleeding.”

“She could be dead, pulling a stunt like that,” Alexander said with renewed anger as he looked at her.

“That’s no way to thank a person for saving your life,” Jodie pointed out, still riding an adrenaline high.

“You’re probably right, but you took a chance you shouldn’t have,” Alexander said grimly. “Come on. We’ll hitch a ride with one of my men.”

“Your car might still be drivable,” she said, looking at it. The windshield was shattered but still clinging to the frame. She winced. “Or maybe not.”

“Maybe not,” Alexander agreed. “See you, Hunter. Lane. Thanks for the help.”

“Any time,” Hunter replied, and they walked back toward the warehouse with Alexander and Jodie. “Colby Lane was in town overnight and bored to death, so I brought him along for the fun.”

“Fun!” Jodie exclaimed.

The older man chuckled. “He leads a mundane nine-to-five life. I’ve talked him into giving it up for international intrigue at Ritter Oil.”

“I was just convinced,” the man named Colby Lane said with a chuckle.

“Good. Tomorrow you can tell Ritter you’ll take the job. See you, Cobb.”

“Sure thing.”

“Who were those two guys you were talking to?” Jodie asked when the hospital had treated her cuts and Alexander had commandeered another car to take her home in.

“Phillip Hunter and Colby Lane. You’ve surely heard of Hunter.”

“He’s a local legend,” she replied with a smile, “but I didn’t recognize him in that black garb. He’s our security chief.”

“Lane’s doing the same job for the Hutton corporation, but they’re moving overseas and he isn’t keen on going. So Hunter’s trying to get him to come down here as his second-in-command at Ritter Oil.”

“Why was Mr. Lane here tonight?”

“Probably just as Phillip said—Lane just got into town, and Hunter volunteered him to help out. He and Hunter are old friends.”

“He looked very dark,” she commented.

“They’re both Apache,” he said easily. “Hunter’s married to a knockout blond geologist who works for Ritter. They have a young daughter. Lane’s not married.”

“They seem to know each other very well.”

Alexander chuckled. “They have similar backgrounds in black ops. Highest level covert operations,” he clarified. “They used to work for the ‘company.’”

“Not Ritter’s company,” she guessed.

He chuckled. “No. Not Ritter’s.”

“Did you arrest Cara?”

“Our Houston policewoman made the actual arrest, so that Cara wouldn’t know I headed the operation. Cara was arrested along with two men she swears she doesn’t know,” he replied. “We had probable cause to do a search anyway, but I had a search warrant in my pocket, and I had to use it. We found enough cocaine in there to get a city high, and the two men in the truck had some on them.”

“How about Cara?”

He sighed. “She was clean. Now we have to connect her.” He glanced at her apologetically. “That will mean getting your boss involved. However innocently, he did let her into a locked parking lot.”

“But wasn’t the night watchman working for them? Couldn’t he have let them in?”

“He could have. But I have a feeling Cara wanted Brody involved, so that he’d be willing to do what she asked so that she didn’t give him away for breaking a strict company rule,” he replied. He saw her expression and he smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him be prosecuted.”

“Thanks, Alexander.”

He moved closer and studied the cuts on her face and arms. He winced. “You poor baby,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t have had you hurt for the world.”

“You’d have been dead if I hadn’t done something,” she said matter-of-factly. “The phone went dead and you were too far away to hear me if I yelled. Besides,” she added with a chuckle, “I hate going to funerals.”

“Me, too.” He swept her close and kissed the breath out of her. “I have to go back to work, tie up loose ends. You’ll need to come with me to the nearest police precinct and give a statement, as well. You’re a material witness.” He hesitated, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Cara knows who you are, and she can find out where you live,” he said. “She’s a vengeful witch. Chances are very good that she’s going to make bond. I’m going to arrange some security for you.”

“Do you think that’s necessary?”

He nodded grimly. “I’m afraid it is. Would you like to know the estimated street value of the cocaine we’ve just confiscated?”

“Yes.”

“From thirty to thirty-five million dollars.”

She whistled softly. “Now I understand why they’re willing to kill people. And that’s just one shipment, right?”

“Just one, although it’s unusually large. There’s another drug smuggling investigation going on right now involving Colombian rebels, but I can’t tell you about that one. It’s top secret.” He smoothed back her hair and looked at her as if she were a treasure trove. “Thank you for what you did,” he said after a minute. “Even if it was crazy, it saved my life, not to mention Lane’s and Hunter’s.”

She reached up a soft hand to smooth over his cheek, where it was slightly rough from a day’s growth of beard. “You’re welcome. But you would have done the same thing, if it had been me, or Margie.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I would have.”

He still looked worried. She tugged his head down and kissed him warmly, her body exploding inside when he half-lifted her against him and kissed her until her lips were sore.

“I could have lost you tonight,” he said curtly.

“Oh, I’m a weed,” she murmured into his throat. “We’re very hard to uproot.”

His arms tightened. “Just the same, you watch your back. If Brody asks what you know, and he will, you tell him nothing,” he added. “You were with me when things started happening, you didn’t even know what was going on until bullets started flying. Right?”

“Right.”

He sighed heavily and kissed her one last time before he put her back onto her own feet. “I’ve got to go help the guys with the paperwork,” he said reluctantly. “I’d much rather be with you. For tonight, lock your doors and keep your freedom phone handy. If you need me, I’m a phone call away. Tomorrow, you’ll have security.”

“I’ve got a nice, big, heavy flashlight like the one you keep in your car,” she told him pertly. “If anybody tries to get in, they’ll get a headache.”

Unless they had guns, he added silently, but he didn’t say that. “Don’t be overconfident,” he cautioned. “Never underestimate the enemy.”

She saluted him.

He tugged her face up and kissed her, hard. “Incorrigible,” he pronounced her. “But I can’t imagine life without you, so be cautious!”

“I will. I promise. You have to promise, too,” she added.

He gave her a warm smile. “Oh, I have my eye on the future, too,” he assured her. “I don’t plan to cash in my chips right now. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night. Lock this,” he added when he went out the door.

She did, loudly, and heard him chuckle as he went down the hall. Once he was gone, she sank down into her single easy chair and shivered as she recalled the feverish events of the evening. She was alive. He was alive. But she could still hear the bullets, feel the shattering of the windshield followed by dozens of tiny, painful cuts on her skin even through the sweater she’d been wearing. It was amazing that she’d come out of a firefight with so few wounds.

She went to bed, but she didn’t sleep well. Alexander phoned very early the next morning to check on her and tell her that he’d see her at lunch.

She put on her coat and went to work, prepared for some comments from her coworkers, despite the fact that she was wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked blouse. Nothing was going to hide the tiny cuts that lined her cheeks and chin. She knew better
than to mention where she got them, so she made up a nasty fall down the steps at her apartment building.

It worked with everyone except Brody. He came in as soon as she’d turned on her computer, looking worried and sad.

“Are you all right?” he asked abruptly. “I was worried sick all night.”

Her wide-eyed look wasn’t feigned. “How did you know?” she faltered.

“I had to go and bail Cara out of jail early this morning,” he said coolly. “She’s been accused of drug smuggling, can you imagine it? She was only parking her car when those lunatics opened fire!”

R
emembering what Alexander had cautioned her about, Jodie managed not to laugh out loud at Brody. How could a man be so naive?

“Drug smuggling?” she exclaimed, playing her part. “Cara?”

“That’s what they said,” he replied. “Apparently some of Ritter’s security people had the warehouse staked out. When the shooting started, they returned fire, and I guess they called in the police. In fact, your friend Cobb was there when they arrested Cara.”

“Yes, I know. He heard the shooting and walked right into it,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “We were parked across the street…”

“I saw you when I let Cara into the parking lot,” Brody said, embarrassed. “One of the gang came in with a machine gun and they say you aimed Cobb’s car right at him and drove into a hail of bullets to save his life. I guess you really do care about him.”

“Yes,” she confessed. “I do.”

“It was a courageous thing to do. Cara said you must be crazy about the guy to do that.”

“Poor Cara,” she replied, sidestepping the question. “I’m so sorry for the trouble she’s in. Why in the world do they think she was involved? She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Brody seemed to relax. “That’s what Cara said. Uh, Cobb wasn’t in on that bust deliberately, was he?”

“We were in a parked car outside the gate. We didn’t know about any bust,” she replied.

“So that’s why he was there,” he murmured absently, nodding. “I thought it must be something of the sort. Cara didn’t know any of the others, but one was a female detective and another was a female deputy sheriff. The policewoman arrested her.”

“Don’t mess with Texas women,” Jodie said, adding on a word to the well-known Texas motto.

He laughed. “So it seems. Uh, there was supposed to be a DEA agent there, as well. Cara has a friend who works out of the Houston office, but he’s been out of town a lot lately and she hasn’t been able to contact him. She says it’s funny, but he seems to actually be avoiding her.” He gave her an odd look. “I gather that it wasn’t Cobb. But do you know anything about who the agent was?”

“No,” she said straight-faced. “And Alexander didn’t mention it, either. He tells me everything, so I’d know if it was him.”

“I see.”

She wondered if Cara’s friend at the DEA was named Kennedy, but she pretended to know nothing. “What’s Cara going to do?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Get a good lawyer, I suppose,” he said heavily.

“I wish her well. I’m so sorry, Brody.”

He sighed heavily. “I seem to have a knack for getting myself into tight corners, but I think Cara’s easily superior to me in that
respect. Well, I’d better phone the attorney whose name she gave me. You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Brody, honestly.” She smiled at him.

He smiled back. “See you.”

She watched him go with relief. She’d been improvising widely to make sure he didn’t connect Alexander with the surveillance of the warehouse.

When Alexander phoned her, she arranged to meet him briefly at the café downstairs for coffee. He was pushed for time, having been in meetings with his drug unit most of the day planning strategy.

“You’ve become a local legend,” he told her with a mischievous smile when they were drinking cappuccino.

“Me?” she exclaimed.

He grinned at her. “The oil clerk who drove through a hail of bullets to save her lover.”

She flushed and glared at him. “Point one, I am not a clerk, I’m an administrative assistant. And point two, I am not your—!”

“I didn’t say I started the rumor.” He chuckled. His eyes became solemn as he studied her across the table. “But the part about being a heroine, I endorse enthusiastically. That being said, would you like to add to your legend?”

She paid attention. “Are you kidding? What do you want me to do?”

“Cara made bond this afternoon,” he told her. “We’ve got a tail on her, but she’s sure to suspect that. She’ll make contact with one of her subordinates, in some public place where she thinks we won’t be able to tape her. When she does, I’m going to want you to accidentally happen upon her and plant a microphone under her table.”

“Wow! ‘Jane Bond’ stuff!”

“Jane?” he wondered.

She shrugged. “A woman named James would be a novelty.”

“Point taken. Are you game?”

“Of course. But why wouldn’t you let one of your own people do it?”

His face was revealing. “The last hearty professional we sent to do that little task stumbled over his own feet and pitched headfirst into the table our target was occupying. In the process he overturned a carafe of scalding coffee, also on the target, who had to be taken to the hospital for treatment.”

“What if I do the same thing?” she worried.

He smiled gently. “You don’t have a clumsy bone in your body, Jodie. But even if you did, Cara knows you. She might suspect me, but she won’t suspect you.”

“When do I start?”

“I’ll let you know,” he promised. “In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open, and don’t…”

Just as he spoke, there was a commotion outside the coffee shop. A young woman with long blond hair was trailing away a dark-haired little girl with a shocked face. Behind them, one of the men Jodie recognized from the drug bust—one of Alexander’s friends—was waving his arms and talking loudly in a language Jodie had never heard before, his expression furious.

The trio passed out of sight, but not before Jodie finally recognized the man Alexander had called Colby Lane.

“What in the world…?” she wondered.

“It’s a long story,” Alexander told her. “And I’m not at liberty to repeat it. Let’s just say that Colby has been rather suddenly introduced to a previously unknown member of his family.”

“Was he cursing—and in what language?” she persisted.

“You can’t curse in Apache,” he assured her. “It’s like Japanese—if you really want to tick somebody off in Japan, you say something about their mother’s belly button. But giving them the finger doesn’t have any meaning.”

“Really?” She was fascinated.

He chuckled. “Anyway, Native Americans—whose origins are also suspected to be Asian—don’t use curse words in their own language.”

“Mr. Lane looked very upset. And I thought I recognized that blond woman. She was transferred here from their Arizona office just a few weeks ago. She has a little girl, about the same age as Mr. Hunter’s daughter.”

“Let it lie,” Alexander advised. “We have problems of our own. I meant to mention that we’ve located one of Cara’s known associates serving as a waiter in a little coffeehouse off Alameda called The Beat…”

“I go there!” she exclaimed. “I go there a lot! You can get all sorts of fancy coffees and it’s like a retro ‘beatnik’ joint. They play bongos and wear all black and customers get up and read their poetry.” She flushed. “I actually did that myself, just last week.”

He was impressed. “You, getting up in front of people to read poetry? I didn’t know you still wrote poetry, Jodie.”

“It’s very personal stuff,” she said, uneasy.

He began to look arrogant. “About me?”

She glared at him. “At the time I wrote it, you were my least favorite person on the planet,” she informed him.

“Ouch!” He was thinking again. “But if they already know you there, it’s even less of a stretch if you show up when Cara does—assuming she even uses the café for her purposes. We’ll have to
wait and see. I don’t expect her to arrange a rendezvous with a colleague just to suit me.”

“Nice of you,” she teased.

He chuckled. He reached across the table and linked her fingers with his. His green eyes probed hers for a long moment. “Those cuts are noticeable on your face,” he said quietly. “Do they hurt?”

“Not nearly as much as having you gunned down in front of me would have,” she replied.

His eyes began to glitter with feeling. His fingers contracted around hers. “Which is just how I felt when I saw those bullets slamming into the windshield of my car, with you at the wheel.”

Her breath caught. He’d never admitted so much in the past.

He laughed self-consciously and released her hand. “We’re getting morose. A miss is as good as a mile, and I still have paperwork to finish that I haven’t even started on.” He glanced at his watch. “I can’t promise anything, but we might see a movie this weekend.”

“That would be nice,” she said. “You’ll let me know…?”

He frowned. “I don’t like putting you in the line of fire a second time.”

“I go to the coffee shop all the time,” she reminded him. “I’m not risking anything.” Except my heart, again, she thought.

He sighed. “I suppose so. Just the same, don’t let down your guard. I hope you can tell if someone’s tailing you?”

“I get goose bumps on the back of my neck,” she assured him. “I’ll be careful. You do the same,” she added firmly.

He smiled gently. “I’ll do my best.”

Having settled down with a good book the following day after a sandwich and soup supper, it was a surprise to have Alexander phone her and ask her to go down to the coffee shop on the double.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot with the equipment,” he said. “Get a cab and have it drop you off. I’ll reimburse you. Hurry, Jodie.”

“Okay. I’m on my way,” she promised, lounging in pajamas and a robe.

She dashed into the bedroom, threw on a long black velvet skirt, a black sweater, loafers, and ran a quick brush through her loosed hair before perching her little black beret on top of her head. She grabbed her coat and rushed out the door, barely pausing except to lock it. She was at the elevator before she remembered her purse, lying on the couch. She dashed back to get it, cursing her own lack of preparedness in an emergency.

Minutes later, she got out of the cab at the side door of The Beat coffeehouse.

Alexander waited by his company car while Jodie paid the cab. She joined him, careful to notice that she was unobserved.

He straightened at her approach. In the well-lit parking lot, she could see his eyes. They were troubled.

“I’m here,” she said, just for something to say. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not sure I want you to do anything,” he said honestly. “This is dangerous. Right now, she has no reason to suspect you. But if you bug her table for me, and she finds out that you did, your life could be in danger.”

“Hey, listen, you were the one who told me about the little boys being shot by her henchmen,” she reminded him. “I know the risk, Alexander. I’m willing to take it.”

“Your knees are knocking,” he murmured.

She laughed, a little unsteadily. “I guess they are. And my heart’s pounding. But I’m still willing to do it. Now what exactly do I do?”

He opened the passenger door for her. “Get in. I’ll brief you.”

“Is she here?” she asked when they were inside.

“Yes. She’s at the table nearest the kitchen door, at the left side of the stage. Here.” He handed her a fountain pen.

“No, thanks,” she said, waving it away. “I’ve got two in my purse…”

He opened her hand and placed the capped pen in it. She looked at it, surprised by its heaviness. “It’s a miniature receiver,” he told her. He produced a small black box with an antenna, and what looked like an earplug with a tiny wire sticking out the fat end. “The box is a receiver, linked to a tape recorder. The earplug is also a receiver, which we use when we’re in close quarters and don’t want to attract attention. Since the box has a range of several hundred feet, I’ll be able to hear what comes into the pen from my car.”

“Do you want me to accidentally leave the pen on her table?”

“I want you to accidentally drop it under her table,” he said. “If she sees it, the game’s up. We’re not the only people who deal in counterespionage.”

She sucked in her breath. She was getting the picture. Cara was no dummy. “Okay. I’ll lean over her table to say hello and make sure I put it where she won’t feel it with her foot. How will that do?”

“Yes. But you have to make sure she doesn’t see you do it.”

“I’ll be very careful.”

He was having second thoughts. She was brave, but courage wasn’t the only requirement for such an assignment. He remembered her driving through gunfire to save him. She could have died then. He’d thought about little else, and he hadn’t slept well. Jodie was like a silver thread that ran through his life. In recent weeks, he’d been considering, seriously, how hard it would be to go on without her. He wasn’t certain that he could.

“Why are you watching me like that?” she wanted to know, smiling curiously. “I’m not a dummy. I won’t let you down, honest.”

“It wasn’t that.” He closed her fingers around the pen. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Very sure.”

“Okay.” He hesitated. “What are you going to give as an excuse for being there?”

She gave him a bright smile. “I phoned Johnny—the owner—earlier, just after you phoned me and told him I had a new poem, but I was a little nervous about getting up in front of a big crowd. He said there was only a small crowd and I’d do fine.”

“You improvise very well.”

“I’ve been observing you for years,” she teased. “But it’s true. I do have a poem to read, which should throw Cara off the track.”

He tugged her chin up and kissed her, hard. “You’re going to be fine.”

She smiled at him. “Which one of us are you supposed to be reassuring?”

“Both of us,” he said tenderly. He kissed her again. “Go to work.”

“What do I do when she leaves?”

“Get a cab back to your apartment. I’ll meet you there. If anything goes wrong,” he added firmly, “or if she acts suspicious, you stay in the coffeehouse and phone my cell number. Got that?” He handed her a card with his mobile phone number on it.

“I’ve got it.”

She opened the car door and stepped out into the cool night air. With a subdued wave, she turned, pulled her coat closer around her and walked purposefully toward the coffeehouse. What she didn’t tell Alexander was that her new poem was about him.

She didn’t look around noticeably as she made her way through
the sparse crowd to the table where she usually sat on her evenings here. She held the pen carefully in her hand, behind a long fold of her coat. As she pulled out a chair at the table, her eyes swept the room and she spotted Cara at a table with another woman. She smiled and Cara frowned.