The Edge of Dawn (13 page)

He punched in more letters. The swamp appeared on the little screen. “Yep.”

“Then we're straight. Once we get there, someone should be able to tell us how to get to Grey Swan. When do we leave?”

“First thing in the morning. The better head start we get, the better off we'll be.”

Narice agreed. Who knew where the cockroaches
were? The threat of an early morning departure should have been enough to send her to bed so she could be well rested at sunrise, but it was only a little past 9:30. Because of the nap she'd taken, she was wide awake. She asked herself,
Now how does one pass the time with an exciting and sexy man,
but she knew the answer, so she stopped asking herself questions.

Saint was asking himself the same question and came up with the same answer. Problem was, she'd already stated her position on the subject, so being content to share her company was all he had. He wasn't accustomed to putting his desire for a beautiful woman on hold, especially when the attraction was mutual. He remembered the pledge he'd made about not getting involved with her, but after listening to her candid telling of her marriage, he was more intrigued than ever. “What's it like being a headmistress?”

“Hectic, fun, thankless, rewarding.” She paused for a second and then said, “Now, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Is there a lady in your life?”

He sipped fom his wine. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Cheetahs don't make good pets.”

That made her laugh. “I'm trying to be serious here.”

“Hey, it's the truth. We don't make good pets. Ask anybody. We live in trees. Eat our meat raw. Women hate that stuff.”

She shook her head at his silliness. “So you've never been married?”

He downed his wine. “Nope. Told you, I've been in love with Sarita my whole life. No other woman ever measured up.”

“So now that's she's married, now what?”

He shrugged. “I'm in no position to marry anybody. My work doesn't allow it. Why'd you ask?”

“Just curious about what a cheetah looks for in a mate.”

He studied her for so long she didn't think he was going to answer, but finally, he replied, “Strength, first of all. Smarts. A good heart. Passion.”

He pronounced that last word while looking her square in the eye, and Narice felt her core respond to his unspoken call. “Passion?”

“In life and in bed.”

The words made her flutter inside and again Narice noted that she had never met a man quite like him before. She also noted that he hadn't placed beauty or booty on his list. She liked that.

“Any more questions?”

“No. I've been nosey enough for one night.”

“It's okay. Anything I don't want to answer, I won't. You seem to be the same way.”

She acknowledged his assessment by saying, “A lioness doesn't make a good pet either.”

That made him laugh.

The phone rang, jolting them both. It rang again. Saint picked it up. “Hello.”

He listened to the person on the other end for a few moments, then placed his hand over the mouthpiece, and said quietly to Narice, “Get your suitcase,” adding, “quick now, angel. Cockroaches are here.”

Narice hustled up the stairs. Grabbing her suitcase, she flung it open, then hurried into the bathroom to grab her toiletries from the counter. She tossed them into their plastic travel case, then threw the case and her dirty clothes into the suitcase. Luckily she hadn't unpacked much. A quick zip and the luggage was closed. She took hold of the handle and rolled it to the stairs.

She saw Saint loading foodstuffs into grocery bags and shaking ice from the fridge's ice maker into trash bags. While she moved over to the couch to retrieve the quilt and the book, he explained, “That was the manager on the phone. From the description she gave me, it sounds like Gus Green. I asked her to keep a lookout for him.” Now that he had the food bagged and the perishables iced, he met her eyes. “You ready?”

A serious Narice shook her head.

“Okay, let's head out.”

It was dark outside now. Small, ground-level solar lights illuminated the way to the parking lot. Cradling
the quilt and pulling her suitcase, Narice hurried with him to where Lily sat parked in the shadows. A quick scan of the lot showed no one. He used the clicker to open Lily's tailgate, then put the food and Narice's suitcase inside. Taking long precise strides, he turned the remote on her door. She climbed in and hit the lock. He ran around to the driver's side and was behind the wheel and belted in, in no time flat.

He keyed the ignition and fired up the engine. Cool air poured out of the AC vents, and the green lights and dials on Lily's dashboard glowed at the ready. Grasping the stick shift, he slid it into reverse, and backed out of the spot. They had no way of knowing where the cockroaches were, but neither wanted to wait around and find out.

Saint drove with the lights out hoping he'd be able to spot the cockroaches before they spotted him. He glanced over at Narice. She looked scared but in control. When this was over, he planned on making love to her in a thousand different ways, but right now, he had to get them out of here and onto the highway—preferably in one piece.

Getting out proved to be a problem. There was a big black sedan barricading the motel's main exit to the street. Saint stopped the SUV just out of sight and sat a moment weighing the advantages and disadvantages of just ramming the sucker out of the way. Deciding he didn't really want to wreck Lily so soon into their relationship, he backed up, hoping to find a less hazardous egress.

Narice saw the car too, and was glad he wasn't planning on confronting them. His last game of chicken hadn't been fun; she wasn't ready for another heart attack so soon.

Saint grumbled, “There has to be another way out of here.”

They drove past parked cars and saw an occasional guest going to or from their room, but no other exit.

Saint backed up into a space, then whipped Lily around. Time was running out. They couldn't keep circling forever. If they didn't find an escape route soon, Gus Green was bound to find them.

Narice said excitedly, “Fence!”

He stopped then took the risk of turning on the headlights so he could see the barrier better. The wire fence didn't appear to be very tall, nor did it look to be made of heavyweight metal. He threw the stick into neutral, set the handbrake, and got out. Out of his pocket came another prototype; one that looked like an everyday aerosol can.

Narice watched him through the windshield. Illuminated by Lily's headlights, he raised the can in his hand and quickly began to spray the fence. Confusion wrinkled her brow. Because she had no idea what he was doing, she kept one eye on him and the other pealed for cockroaches. A split second later, he used a booted foot to kick the fence. To her amazement, the section fell to the ground, leaving behind a gaping hole.

He ran back to the SUV, jumped in, and closed the
door. Seconds later he drove through the hole, over the curb, and down to the street.

A surprised Narice asked, “What was that stuff?”

“A spray that breaks down the chemical bonds in metal. Got it for testing from the good scientists up in Minnesota. It's strictly experimental. They also have one that rebinds metals.”

“So, you could have put the fence back together?”

“Yep, but didn't have time. Right now, I wish had, though. We have company.”

Narice checked her side mirror and sure enough there were lights on their tail. “Are you going to try and loose them?”

“Yep.”

“Where should we go?”

“Grey Swan, Georgia, sounds good to me. You game?”

She grinned. “Yes. Let's see how much gas they've got.”

He laughed at her enthusiasm. “Woman, I can't wait to make love to you.”

Narice sparkled in response, then laughed, “Well it won't be now, so step on it, Cyclops.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Saint roared Lily up to eighty. The two cars behind them sped up in hot pursuit.

He tore through the red light and made a squealing left to head west onto Eisenhower, leaving behind a trail of cursing angry drivers in the intersection. Saint paid them no mind.

Ahead was State Street a main artery in Ann Arbor that intersected with Eisenhower under four large hanging traffic lights. All of the lights were red, but he barreled through the intersection at full speed, then had to swerve to miss hitting a pizza delivery car and a hoopty with one headlight. A crash sounded. Narice swung her head around. The pizza car and the hoopty had crashed into each other. Three seconds later the two black sedans blazed through the red lights, too. Like Saint the sedan's drivers ignored the blaring horns and thrown fingers coming from the angry drivers of other cars on the street.

Saint had been to Ann Arbor a few times to see the University of Michigan football teams play, so he had a pretty good idea where he was. Briarwood Mall was on his left now, and if his memory served correctly, he could take a left at the next set of lights and hit the highway. He hoped Cadillac had built Lily as solidly as she looked because she was in for the run of her young life. First order of business was to ditch the jokers on his tail before he got on the highway so with that in mind, he glanced to his left. There was a smaller strip mall and a couple restaurants, maybe he could shake them there.

When he spun the wheel and made a sharp tire-screaming turn into a one-way street, Narice grabbed the armrests and closed her eyes—if she was going to die she didn't want to see it, but the adrenaline made her open them again. She watched him side-swipe cars, run over trash cans, and generally scare the hell
out of pedestrians and drivers alike, but he kept Lily rolling, while the sedans did the same.

Since the cockroaches seemed intent upon staying hot on his trail, Saint gave up trying to shake them and led them out onto Ann Arbor–Saline Road. Sideswiping an Escort, he shot down the ramp to 94 East. The tires screeched in protest, taking the sharp downwardly spiraling curve, but when the pavement leveled again, they grabbed the road and powered the Caddy forward.

Saint's eyes snapped up to his rearview mirror and then to the mirror on his door. He didn't see them. Had he lost them? No. There they were, closing fast. “Hang on!”

He eased the big engine up to 110 mph. Cars ahead of them scrambled to get out of the big truck's way, but one car, bearing an Ohio license plate seemed oblivious to the Cadillac walking it down. Faced with no options, Saint passed the car on the left shoulder, sending gravel and dirt flying. Only his driving skill kept them from tipping over, or side swiping Mr. No Driving Ohio, and careening off into the ditch that doubled as the median on most Michigan highways.

By now, Narice could hear sirens behind them and she was breathing so fast and holding on to the front of her armrests so tightly she was surprised her knuckles hadn't popped through the skin. The SUV was traveling at such a high rate of speed, the cars it passed seemed to be standing still. It was a car chase worthy of Hollywood and she was scared to death.

A large green road sign indicated that US 23 South
was a half mile ahead, so Saint swung Lily into the right-hand lane. He hadn't let up on the speed, but he hadn't lost the cockroaches on his tail, either. Lily hit the ramp and again took the steep incline on screaming wheels. Saint braked just enough to keep the Cadillac on the road, then merged them into the sparse traffic doing 105.

Narice turned back and looked up the ramp just in time to see the first sedan begin to spin out. Whether it was lack of driving skills, the excessive speed, or an unfamiliarity with the road, she didn't know, but the driver lost it—big-time. Every thing around her seemed to slow as she watched the car became airborne and fly trunk-end first over the side of the ramp and disappear. Moments later a flash of light filled the night sky and her hands went to her mouth in dismay. “Saint—”

“I know, baby, but we can't stop.”

She was horrified by the carnage they'd left behind, but in her heart she knew he was right. She forced herself to face forward. With her eyes now glued on the dark ribbon of the road ahead, she tried not to think about what she'd just seen.

Twenty minutes later, they rolled through Toledo and headed south towards Bowling Green. Once they made it there, they drove on to Dayton.

The highway troopers in Ohio were notorious for ticketing out-of-state drivers, so as he headed towards Dayton, Saint slowed his roll as much as he could while still maintaining a good speed. He had no way of knowing if another black sedan was back there lurking
in the dark, so he kept alert. He glanced over at Narice. She'd been pretty quiet since the accident. He supposed she was thinking about the men in the car. In his business, deaths or injuries were known as collateral damage, and sometimes it couldn't be avoided. Saint had taken lives in defense of his own, but never just for the hell of it. Truthfully, there was no place in his line of work for sentiment—not when it came to the other side. Although he'd been trained not to internalize collateral damage, Narice hadn't and he needed to remember that. “I have a friend we can stay with in Dayton. We'll lay low for the day and head out again after it gets dark. Traveling at night is probably going to be safer from here on out.”

“Okay.” Narice added the remembrances of the tumbling car and the resulting fire to the memories of the dead man on Uncle Willie's floor. She wondered how many others would be hurt or killed before this was over.

It was now three
A.M
., and raining. Lily's wipers kept the glass clear in rhythmic time. They were riding around Dayton's inner city. Faded billboards touting cigarettes and cognac stood on tall poles above store-fronts and empty lots. There were very few people out. The ones she did see were hurrying to cars to get out of the rain. Two female streetwalkers were the exception. Wearing Daisy Dukes, spike heels and filmy transparent blouses, the sisters looked wet and miserable. “Where's your friend live?”

“About fifteen miles south of here.”

“In the city of Dayton?”

“No, suburbs.”

“Then why are we cruising the neighborhood?”

“Just making sure we aren't being tailed again. My friend won't appreciate us showing up with cockroaches on our shoes.”

“In other words, we're taking the Drunkard's Path.”

Saint grinned and wondered if she knew being witty was also high on a cheetah's list of preferred attributes in a mate. “Exactly.” He also wondered if now might be the time to discuss the car crash. “There was nothing we could do about that car back there.”