The Edge of Dawn (18 page)

Saint wanted to cheer. He elbowed Ridley hard in the nose, then followed that with a quick uppercut that staggered his nemesis to his knees and sent a stab of pain through Saint's hand. Ignoring if for now, he looked around for Jacobs and saw him running from
the big Caddy barreling down on him like a runaway locomotive. Saint couldn't decide which was louder, the store's alarm, the big Cadillac-rumbling engine, or Jacobs's screams of terror. A grinning Saint scrambled past the wide-eyed Ridley and tried to wave his lady down.

By now Green had run back into the semi-dark store, but Narice was doing her best to keep him and Jacobs occupied until she and Saint could hook up. She chased them like dogs after a rat. Turning the wheel and crushing everything in her path that wasn't moving, she turned the inside of the store into shambles, but kept them in her lights and on the run. In their mad rush to stay out of her way, they tripped over canned goods, stepped on loaves of bread, and slipped and slid through the liquids on the floor left by broken bottles of everything from beer to tomato sauce. She didn't see Ridley anywhere, but she could see Saint waving her down. She spun the wheel and charged forward. A blink later, Narice had the door open, Saint was in, and she barreled Lily out through the hole she'd made. As the tires peeled off the narrow sidewalk the Caddy bounced high, but Narice held the wheel firmly and headed out of the lot. In her mirror she could see Green limp out of the store, his gun raised. A few pings hit the SUV. Bullets she assumed, but she was too busy driving.

Saint swiveled around in his seat and stared back at the carnage. The store looked like it had been hit by a tor
nado. Eyes wide, he turned to her and said, “Damn girl!”

Narice could feel the adrenaline pumping and the rush of excitement singing in her blood. “Hey, couldn't leave you behind.”

“I'm glad you didn't, but the only thing still standing back there is the sign.”

“I'll get it next time.”

He shook his head and settled in.

When the sign for 75 finally came into a view, Narice said, “I think we should take the real Drunkard's Path now.”

Saint agreed. Every policeman in the state was going to be on their tail. Since the police would probably concentrate their search on 75, heading for another road seemed like a good idea. He reached down and punched up the map software. A new route using secondary roads showed on the screen. The drive across Kentucky would now take longer, but Narice and Saint didn't care.

As they distanced themselves from the scene of the crime, Saint had no words to describe Narice. When he first met her she'd been just a name in a file; Narice Jordan—schoolteacher and daughter of the man The Majesty called the Keeper. He knew where she lived, how much taxes she'd paid last year, and that she'd never gotten so much as a parking ticket from the law. All the facts and figures had been in the file, but nothing that spoke to her strength or courage. “Want me to drive?”

“Nope. I'm fine.”

“Okay, well, I'm going to ice this hand before it swells up like a pineapple.”

“How'd you hurt it?”

“Busting Ridley in the jaw.”

“Good for you,” she said with gusto.

Saint undid his belt and leaned around the seat to flip up the lid on the large blue cooler sitting amongst the tools, boxes, and other stuff he'd brought along.

Narice asked, “Do you want me to pull over so you can get what you need?”

“No. You keep driving. The more miles we put between us and the scene of Hurricane Narice, the better.”

She agreed.

Saint put the ice in a small plastic bag, then slid his aching hand into the cold cubes. After a few more moments the hand was so cold and numb the ache toned down.

Narice looked over at him in the dark. “Do you think it's broken?”

“Hope not.”

The next big city on the original route was Knoxville, Tennessee, 181 miles south of Lexington. After that they'd twist and turn their way through the mountains to Chattanooga and then on to Atlanta. Right now, Atlanta was a good 300 miles away. They had a long way to go.

A few minutes later, the sign appeared for Reed's Crossing, where according to their map, they could pick up Highway 421 that ran a drunken path parallel to the interstate. They'd still be traveling south, but the
highway made enough of a swing east before reconnecting with 75 that Saint hoped it would throw the dogs off the scent.

Being a city girl, Narice didn't like driving the backwoods, but tonight because 421 was shut down for some type of repairs they were following the detour. “Do you think we should turn around and go back to 75?”

Saint shook his head. “No. This may be a blessing in disguise.”

“The road is certainly disguised. Where the heck are we?”

Saint used his free hand to bring up the map. A cursor blinked their position. “There.”

“Doesn't matter. I still don't know. Country people need to get some streetlights.”

It was as dark as Narice had ever seen. Third-world countries probably had better lighting. To make matters worse the road was narrow and unpaved. Good thing Lily did all-terrain well, otherwise they might be sitting on the side of the road with flat tires. “I can't believe I tore up that store that way.”

“I felt like I was in Bonnie and Clyde.”

“I know. Can I go to jail?”

He smiled at her question. “We'll tell them you did it for God and country. Don't worry about it. The government has a budget line for stuff like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So I won't get a visit from someone's lawyer down the road?”

He chuckled. “No, Narice. I'll take care of it, soon as we find the Eye.”

“I'm holding you to that.”

“I know you will.”

She turned her attention back to the road. “How do you think they found us, again?”

“Don't know. Last time they saw us we were heading south. Ridley and Gus are smart but it doesn't take a whole lot of brains to station a few teams along the road south and wait. We were at the farm overnight. That would have given them plenty of time to set something up.”

“So we stumbled on them—they didn't find us?”

“Exactly.”

“Lucky us,” Narice cracked. “Now they know what we're driving.”

“Plate too, probably, but Myk gave me plenty of fake plates. We can be from any state or country in the world.”

Narice didn't know why she was surprised. “You two thought of everything.”

He looked around at their dark surroundings. “Everything but this detour. Where the hell are we!”

Neither of them knew, but Narice kept driving and prayed she didn't miss a detour sign in the dark.

After another thirty miles of twists and turns on the narrow road, Saint made an executive decision. “Angel, we passed a campground sign a little ways back, I say we hole up there until morning. Even with the GPS it's too damn dark out here.”

Being an urban African-American Narice wasn't sure how she felt about camping out in nowhere Kentucky in the middle of the night, but decided she'd come too far to wimp out now. “I'm game.” In the meantime, all the ruts and holes were rattling her spine and teeth. Lily might be an SUV but this road with its posted speed limit of 45 mph was more suited for an F-150 than a souped-up, tricked-out Caddy. Narice felt like she was driving a stagecoach.

A sign appeared in the headlights:
CAMPGROUND CLOSED
.

She turned to her ever-resourceful companion. “Now what?”

“Guess we keep driving.”

So, that's what they did.

Narice gave up the wheel an hour later and Saint took over. His hand still ached but he'd sustained worse injuries, so he just dealt with it. “You can stretch out in the back if you like.”

The two rows of seats behind them were folded down. Piled on top of them were various long-handled tools, coolers, boxes, Narice's suitcase, and myriad supplies he'd brought along.
Lie down where
? “I'm tired, but not tired enough to sleep on a cooler.”

They shared a grin in the dark.

She added, “Besides,” and she cuddled up next to him as much as the bucket seats and the console between them would allow, “you stayed awake while I drove. I should at least do the same.”

Saint enjoyed her closeness. The fading notes of her distinctive perfume played over his senses like the soft teasing notes of a jazz tune. “I think you just want to share my scintillating company.”

“I think you're right.”

Her eyes and sexy voice made him hard as a beam. He needed to find them a bed as soon as possible. Yes, he was on a job, and yes, he was supposed to be on business, but the woman cuddled next to him was mak
ing it difficult to concentrate on anything but her. With that in mind, and the realization that taking this off-road had not been a good idea, Saint made another executive decision. “Okay, enough of this drunkard's path. Let's find the highway, the GPS says it shouldn't be far.”

“Hallelujah.”

Saint loved her exuberance. “If the police show up, we'll deal with it, somehow, and if more cockroaches show up we'll just step on them.”

“Did you know a cockroach can live a week without its head?”

He laughed. “And you heard that, where?”

“One of my science teachers. She swore it was true.”

Shaking his head, Saint turned his attention to the GPS to plot their course. I need to give you a quick tour of this dashboard just in case something happens to me.” So while he drove he acquainted her with all the bells and whistles. He finished up by showing her how to deploy Lily's missiles and the red button that set the firing cycle in motion. When he was satisfied that she knew as much about Lily as he did, they drove on.

They reconnected with Interstate 75 just outside of London, Kentucky, which according to all the roadside signs was the gateway to the Daniel Boone National Forest. Because of the late hour, traffic on the highway was light. Narice looked out of the window beside her. The area around the highway was pitch black, but off in the distance were the twinkling lights
of towns and cities. She wondered about the people using those lights: who they were, what they did and believed. She doubted any of them would believe the ride she'd been on since burying her daddy; she was finding it hard to believe herself.

Saint looked her way. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Just thinking about all that's happened since my father died. You. The Majesty. Cockroaches.”

“It's been interesting. You've been interesting, too. You're one of a kind, Madam Jordan.”

“That's probably a good thing. The world doesn't need more thirty-seven-year-old women driving Cadillacs through store windows.”

“You came through like the cavalry, though.”

The praise in his voice warmed her. “Glad I could help a brother out.”

They rode in silence for the next few miles, but Saint was very aware of her presence. He knew that adrenaline sometimes stoked the libido and he'd be the first to admit that, yes, he'd sampled a few honeys while caught up in dangerous situations more than few times, but being around this Brainiac woman with her curvy body, gorgeous mouth, and fearless ways had his heat turned up like a furnace. “How about some music?”

Narice thought that an excellent idea. Now that they'd left Ridley and that sorry excuse for a road behind, music would be nice. She clicked on the light on her side of the console and looked through the cache of CDs in the console. Seeing a Grover Washington made
her smile. The legendary sax player was one of her favorite jazz musicians and always good on a nighttime drive.

Narice leaned forward to put in the CD when out of nowhere came the angry roar of helicopter rotors. Her panicked eyes flew to the windows.

“Can you see it?” Saint yelled while quickly checking his mirrors.

“On my side! Tree high.”

He growled a curse and floored the accelerator. “I should have killed Ridley when I had the chance.” He cursed again.

Narice could see the black chopper flying above the shoulder of the road and parallel to their position. It kept pace; a lurking, ominous presence.

An angry Saint had had enough cockroaches for one day. At this rate, he and Narice were never going to find that bed.

When the helicopter made no move to approach, Narice asked, “Why's it just laying back like that?”

The reason appeared a heartbeat later. Another helicopter swooped in and showed itself on Saint's side. “Reinforcements.”

“Then that means they're scared of us.”

Saint grinned. “I like the way you think, angel mine.”

For a moment, the endearment made Narice forget all about helicopters and cockroaches. Although she knew better than to read anything deep into the words,
she was touched just the same. However all that was set aside as the helicopters swung out of position and headed towards the Caddy. “Here they come!”

“I see 'em. Tighten your belt. This baby doesn't have airbags.”

Her eyes widened. “Why not?!”

“You can't drive away from the bad guys with an airbag in your face.”

She stared, then because she couldn't help it, she laughed at his logic. “Remind me to never elope with you again.”

“Hey, you love this.”

What sounded like metal rain began hitting the car. Narice ducked instinctively. “No, I don't. I don't like being shot at.” She knew the vehicle was bulletproof, but it didn't matter to her innate sense of self-preservation.

Saint didn't like being shot at either. Never had. More bullets strafed Lily's armored body; others struck vehicles nearby. The chopper pilots didn't seem to care where their bullets went. In the rearview mirror Saint saw a mustang rolling behind them in the middle lane. The sleek Ford was moving fast, trying to get the hell away from the choppers when suddenly there was an explosion that sent chunks of pavement and the underlying steel rods flying into the air. The road turned into a fireball. The mustang veered crazily and spun out into the median. “That was a missile!”

Narice's eyes widened. “A missile?”

“Yeah, those bastards are shooting missiles!” Saint
knew that Lily was equipped with a variety of built-in weapons; James Bond's rides had nothing on her, but her guns weren't meant to bring down a helicopter, let alone two. Lily did have something on board that might even the odds, though. “We've got to get off this road!”

Narice agreed. She looked back helplessly at the now burning mustang and then angrily out at the choppers on their tail.
What kind of people use missiles on a public interstate? The kind that burned your father in his bed,
a voice in her head reminded her.

Saint kept the pedal on the floor while swerving all over the road. Lily was now rolling at plus 100 mph.

Narice watched the choppers flying in and out of their path like deadly dragonflies. They let fly another missile. It missed—barely, but did hit a semi rolling in the right-hand lane. While the trucker fought to keep the rig on the road, the trailer burst into flame.

The choppers' ammo was now coming at them like something out of a war zone. Narice was tight-lipped as she held on to her seat. Saint was driving like a bat out of hell and Lily didn't miss a beat. Narice thanked the lord for General Motors and building Lily like a brick house.

Saint knew that with any luck one of the other drivers had already called 911. Ridley's diplomatic status wasn't going to matter in this situation; this part of the country was small-town America. The local police were not going to be happy with a helicopter shooting missiles at its citizens, no matter the cause.

For now, though, he and Narice were on their own and the choppers were flying close enough for them to see the pilot's grin in the dim light of his cockpit. Saint shouted over the din of the rotors. “I'm going to head into those trees. Then I want you to take the wheel.”

“Okay.” At the speed they were traveling she had no idea how such an exchange would be accomplished, but she was sure he had a plan.

Apparently the choppers didn't want the Caddy to head into the trees and used the machine-gun fire to try and stop it. Saint kept driving. While one copter continued to fire, its companion swooped down and attempted to ram them. Saint turned the wheel sharply and sped through a fence and towards the safety of the trees. The copter had no option but to increase altitude or collide with the dark branches.

Under the protective canopy of night-shrouded green, Saint stopped the Caddy and threw open his door. “Change places with me. Quick now, angel.”

Narice didn't have to be told twice. Outside, she ran around, jumped in, and slammed the door. Belt on, she waited and watched him climb into the back. She listened for the choppers while watching Saint lift the lid on a large black footlocker.

“Should I start driving?” Seeing him pull out what looked like military hardware made her ask, “What's that?”

“Grenade launcher. Let's see how
they
like being shot at.”

Narice went still. “Grenade launcher?”

“Yeah. No more questions. Have to work now.”

The
work
involved putting the weapon together. He did it so quickly and efficiently; it was real obvious he'd done it before. She wondered what other weapons of mass destruction he had on board.

The choppers sounded above. Narice craned her head to try and spot them through the windshield, but saw nothing.

By now Saint was done. He and his piece were ready. The concern on Narice's face made him pause but he was too well disciplined to be distracted by it. “I want you to take off towards that open field just as fast as you can drive. Stay close to the trees. If anything happens to me, get the hell out of here, okay?”

“Not okay. We're a team, remember?”

“Not if I'm blown away.”

“Didn't we already do this rescue thing once tonight?”

He shook his head. “Why are Black women so hard-headed?”

“No idea.”

Amusement and affection shone from behind the dark glasses. “See you in a minute.”

“Be careful.”

He shot her a smile then disappeared into the night.

Narice took off towards the field, bumping over the uneven terrain. There was no way she was going to leave him behind—under any circumstances. She supposed her confidence stemmed from being a novice at this intrigue stuff. If she had more experience maybe
she'd be more inclined to follow his orders, but right now, she didn't know enough to save her own neck.

The sounds of the helicopter swooping down instantly scared Narice back to reality. Driving fast, she careened across the open terrain in front of a low-flying chopper. Its predator lights gave the inside of the Caddy an eerie glow. She was the bait. Prayers went up that a missile wouldn't blow her to bits, and that Saint wouldn't miss.

The ground to her left suddenly exploded and she screamed. The aftershock shook the Caddy, but Narice somehow kept herself together enough not to crash into the trees, some of which were now ablaze.

Another explosion shook the world, then another and another, sending fire and chunks of grass and debris into her path. By now, she was a cussing, screaming crying mess, but she swung the wheel hard, doing donuts, one-eighties, and three-sixties in her mad dash to stay out of the way.

Suddenly the biggest explosion yet assaulted her ears, and in her mirror she saw fire in the sky. Her shouts of joy filled the cabin. Pieces of burning and twisted metal began to fall, hitting the roof, the ground. She powered Lily back the way they'd come. Some poor farmer was going to be real mad when he came out in the morning and found tire tracks and dead chopper parts all over his field, but right now he wasn't on Narice's list of concerns. All she wanted to do was find Saint and get the hell away from this place.

Saint grimly waited for the second chopper to appear but it instead rose up into the night sky and headed south. Apparently the pilot didn't want to share the fate of its friend. Saint was glad. There'd been enough mayhem for one night.

When he looked up, Narice had the Caddy's door open and she was running to him. He swooped her up with one arm and held her close. He could feel her tears wetting his face. He dropped the launcher and hugged her even closer. “You okay?”

She nodded.

He kissed the tears in her eyes. He was so proud of how she'd handled herself. Seeing that she was indeed in one piece was worth every dollar he'd ever made in this business “You sure?”