Hot Pursuit (14 page)

Chapter Fourteen

In an instant the grove was a blur of movement.

One moment a butterfly had fluttered down in orange splendor, settling on Annie's shoulder, and then the peace was shattered by noise—Jack's shout, Sam's instant reaction, the hammering of metal wheels on concrete as an out-of-control skateboard raced out of the shadows.

Taylor heard her own cry, but she couldn't move fast enough. There was more shouting and she raced after Sam as Annie fell sideways toward the sidewalk, her hands instinctively cradling her stomach.

At the same moment Jack dove through a bar of sunlight, arms outstretched like a first baseman. When his shoulder bumped Annie's shoulder, he twisted, putting his body beneath hers. They landed in a sprawl on the cement.

Annie blinked as Taylor and Sam knelt, gripping her hands.

“Hey, I'm fine, you two,” she said shakily. “It was just a tumble, nothing serious—thanks to Jack. Sorry I weigh as much as a horse these days.”

Jack eased back to make room for Sam, who cradled Annie's face in trembling hands. “Is there any pain? Do you hurt anywhere, honey?”

“Just my elbow. Otherwise I'm—” She gasped and her body went stiff.

“Annie's, what's wrong?” Sam stroked her hair, his face lined with strain.

“It was just a pain. Probably nothing.” Annie's smile was forced. “Help me stand up and—”

Her eyes closed tight and she locked her arms over her stomach.

Taylor watched anxiously, dimly aware of a group of tourists milling in the periphery.

“I called the ambulance.” The docent's voice was unsteady. “They're only two blocks away, so—”

The rest of her words were drowned out by a burst of noise. An ambulance angled to a halt a few feet away. Two paramedics sprinted up with a stretcher, lifted Annie in place, and carried her to the ambulance.

“Jack, I'm going. I can't—” Taylor clutched his hand tightly, trying to make sense. “Thank you,” she gasped, “but I've got to be with her.”

She scrambled up onto the seat beside Sam, the doors closed, and the big ambulance swayed out into the street, lights blazing.

Jack ignored his throbbing arm. “Where's the hospital?”

The worried docent gave quick instructions. “Young man, I don't know if you're a baseball player or something else entirely, but thank you for what you just did.”

Jack managed a grim smile. He was punching numbers as he sprinted back to the Wrangler.

Izzy answered on the first ring. “What's up?”

“It's Jack. I'm in Monterey, but you're not going to like what's happened.”

“Taylor?”

“She's fine—except for the fact that someone's been trailing us all day. But something has happened to Taylor's sister, Annie McKade.”

“Annie? But how did—” Izzy bit back a curse. “Give me an update. Where are you now?”

“On the way to the hospital.” Before Jack unlocked the Wrangler, he turned to survey the street behind him. The prickling at his neck was still there, in full force. “Check on a Lincoln Town Car, California license 71 G94. Someone's out there, Izzy. The bastard's watching everything we do.”

 

Viktor Lemka was not a patient man under the best of circumstances, but today all shreds of patience were gone, overwhelmed by icy fury. The stupid American woman had eluded him again, and Viktor was not in the habit of being bested by women.

He sat on a bench across from the entrance to the butterfly sanctuary—such a singularly pathetic American concept—his face shielded by the most recent
San Francisco Chronicle
, cursing the ambulance that raced up the street. He had meant his little diversion to occur later, when Taylor O'Toole was separated from the others, but the whining teenager had noticed that his skateboard was gone and summoned his noisy friends from the beach. Then more tourists had arrived, blocking his way.

That left Viktor with no time for the careful planning that was his trademark, so he had been forced to improvise. As a result, the diversion had come too soon, and the wrong woman was targeted. Worse yet, the nosy tourists had pulled out their cameras and begun shooting nonstop. He couldn't afford to have his face connected with the scene, not even on the amateur photos of a group of visiting German tourists, so he had had no choice but to pull back, melting into the crowd while the ambulance raced closer.

Yet again he cursed the stupid American woman. What had possessed Harris Rains to hide his lab samples in such a ridiculous place?

But furious as he was, Lemka realized the scientist had been clever, outmaneuvering them with his neat little plan. Now that they had Rains in a boat offshore, the scientist was talking as fast as the words could spill out. It had taken Lemka only two bouts with a knife to free the man's speech.

Now it was up to Lemka to get the lab samples back. Unfortunately, that had been harder than he'd expected. Hidden behind his paper, he cursed the man with hard gray eyes who seemed to follow the O'Toole woman everywhere. There was little information to be found about this man Broussard, not even by Viktor's well-paid and extensive network of contacts, which was most disturbing.

He peered over the paper, watching Broussard sprint up the street, all too aware that his employers were unforgiving men. Continued mistakes would most certainly bring lethal consequences.

Unthinkable, after fighting his way out of the slime of Albania's worst slum. Unthinkable, with five million U.S. dollars nearly at his fingertips. The imbeciles he had hired to kidnap Rains in the convenience store would soon be silenced, suitable repayment for their bungling. With Rains in his grasp, his goal was also in sight. All he needed was the woman's cursed purse.

Viktor watched the big American sprint toward the yellow car, an expensive cell phone at his ear. It was a conversation the Albanian would have paid dearly to overhear, but for some reason, none of his usual surveillance equipment penetrated the static of those calls.

Another disturbing factor.

Lemka smiled thinly, feeling the edge of the surgical knife hidden in his boot. There would be ample time for him to practice his craft during the days to come. First on Rains, then the woman. He knew how to sever nerves, shatter bones, and flay tendons with medical precision, courtesy of an overworked British doctor who had plucked him frightened and stinking from a rat-infested slum. Viktor had repaid his mentor with two years of uncomplaining labor, the full attention of a cunning young mind.

And a quick, relatively painless death via a scalpel implanted directly in the lower brain stem.

It had been Viktor's first step toward greatness, but many more had followed. There was no possibility that he would fail.

The yellow Wrangler raced past.

He closed his paper, folded it neatly, then tossed it in the trashcan. One plan had failed.

He was already moving on to the next one.

 

Jack had gotten through most of his report by the time he pulled up at the hospital. He angled into a parking space as an ambulance raced by. “I'm at the hospital now. I'll call as soon as I have any news. Better use the pager if you need me.”

“Can do.”

“One other thing. Have you gotten word on the plate number I gave you a few minutes ago?”

Izzy's voice tightened. “The Lincoln is registered to a corporate fleet in Huntington Beach. The company is called Homeland Technologies—some kind of home-monitoring service. I'll check it, but I've got a hunch the car will come up stolen.”

“Which means we've got nothing.” Jack studied the E.R. entrance. “What about our pals from the convenience store?”

“They're not talking. Sounds to me like they're more scared of
their
people than of us, but we'll keep working on it.”

Jack switched off the motor, frowning. “Anything from the Feds? Like how they happened to lose Rains at the warehouse?”

“They say that the man who left Chinatown wasn't Rains after all. Those photos you took outside the club prove it, though the hair and makeup were good enough to pass a rough inspection. And all of us took the bait—the Feds, you, even Taylor. Meanwhile, the real Rains was no doubt being hustled away.”

“By his plan or against his will?” Jack wondered out loud.

“Hard to say. The Feds are telling me nothing. Interagency competition sucks.”

“Tell me about it. See what you can find, and I'll call in twenty minutes.”

“Copy that. Meanwhile, watch your six o'clock.”

Jack scanned the parking lot. “I always do.”

 

Taylor paced a crowded hospital corridor next to two homeless men, a woman with a hacking cough, and a girl with a broken arm. Annie was nowhere in sight.

“How is she?” Jack cornered her in midstride.

“I'm glad you're here. Annie's being evaluated down the hall by an obstetrician. We haven't heard anything yet, and Sam's about to explode.” Taylor took a sharp breath. “So am I.”

“Let the doctor do his job.”

“
Her
job,” Taylor said. “And I'm trying, but it's hell to wait, not knowing what's going on. “Not knowing if—”

“Why don't you sit down. I'll go talk to Sam about an update.”

After a moment Taylor nodded, her hands clenched. “Okay, I'll sit. You go—just hurry, please.”

She watched him stride through the crowded lobby, his calm presence making her feel safer. But after the string of bad things that had happened to her in the last few days, she had to face the fact that she probably
wasn't
safe, and the accident today could have been part of that pattern. If so, she had endangered her sister. . . .

If Annie lost the baby, Taylor didn't know how she could forgive herself.

She didn't realize she was trembling until she looked up and saw the little girl staring at her with big, curious eyes.

Suck it in, O'Toole. Falling apart now won't help anyone.
She leaned back against the ugly green wall and closed her eyes, telling herself it would be okay because Annie was strong, Annie was tough, please God, nothing could happen to Annie.

Someone bumped her shoulder. Taylor frowned, opening her eyes to the same ugly green walls and the same crowded lobby.

She saw Jack standing beside Sam, listening intently, nodding a few times as if he really cared, even though these people were strangers he'd met just an hour before. Taylor tried not to worry as he came toward her, but it was impossible to do anything else.

“What did Sam say?”

“Take a walk with me and I'll fill you in.”

“But Annie—”

“They've taken her upstairs for more tests.”

Taylor felt her body go cold. Her knees buckled. “It's bad; I knew it.”

“She's doing fine, Taylor.” Jack pulled her close, steadying her. “It's protocol, they told Sam, something they do with any trauma in the last trimester of pregnancy. Also, her blood pressure's a little high, so they want to be sure that's not causing any fetal distress.”

“Fetal distress?”
Taylor closed her eyes. “Dear God, I knew it. She's in trouble—she could lose the baby.”

Jack cradled her face, his hands rough and warm against her skin. “Your sister's
not
going to lose the baby. She's doing fine. They just want to keep her overnight for observation as a precaution.”

“The baby's fine? Really?”

“All the vital signs are strong and absolutely healthy. Now let's go get some coffee in the cafeteria. Sam will come find us as soon as he has any news.”

The baby was strong.

Annie was going to be okay.

Taylor let out a long breath. She wasn't sure when her hand found its way to his, but she didn't let go, not when they sat down at a chipped Formica table, not when he pulled her head down on his shoulder and she gave up trying to hold back tears.

 

It took two hours for Annie to finish all her tests, and another hour to complete the paperwork so that she could be admitted to a room on the obstetrics floor. Taylor was carrying a bouquet of daffodils from the gift shop when she pushed open the door.

Sam got up from the bed and waved them in. “Welcome to the Ritz,” he said. “Ms. Hard Case here is complaining because she only gets gelatin and soup to eat. She's trying to bribe me to bring her some Godiva chocolate ice cream.”

“Just a little,” Annie said guiltily. She reached out and hugged Taylor. “I guess that proves I'm feeling fine, so you can stop looking panicky.”

“Me, panicky?” Taylor set the flowers on Annie's table. “Don't think these flowers mean anything special. I just found them in the lobby, so I figured I'd bring them up.”

Jack hid a smile at this banter, knowing it had taken Taylor five agonizing minutes to decide which flowers her sister would like best. “Why don't I go find a vase?” he murmured.