Trading Secrets (29 page)

Matt obediently rolled onto his back and gave her a strange smile. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to keep a gun in the house?”

“Dad, are you all right?” Brad was kneeling beside his father, looking stricken.

“I’m fine. Fortunately, Sabrina usually misses when she aims at me.” Matt got to his knees and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were on Sabrina. “Jesus, lady, you know how to keep a man on his toes.”

“Oh, Matt!” She flung herself against him, her arms closing fiercely around his waist as he crushed her to him. “I’ve been so worried.”

“She shot Griffin,” Brad said with a hint of pride.

“That doesn’t exactly surprise me,” Matt said over the top of her head. But his hands moved along Sabrina’s spine as if to be certain she was real. “Souvenir sellers are a hardy bunch. Are you both all right?”

Sabrina nodded against his chest and reluctantly lifted her head. “If you don’t count the fact that we seem to be barricaded in a cabin with two armed men outside the door.”

“Probably only one now,” Brad offered helpfully. “Griffin must be out of action. Sabrina shot him in the arm.”

Matt looked down at Sabrina. “How do you know you got him in the arm?” he asked rather interestedly.

She knew what he was thinking. Nobody aims that carefully when confronting an armed intruder. You shoot at the widest possible target, and hope to hit something vital. “I don’t know—at the crucial moment I had my eyes closed.”

“In that case I guess I’m lucky to have made it in here in one piece.”

“Yeah, Dad, what’s going on?” Brad interrupted quickly. “How did you get into the bedroom?”

Grateful for the interruption because she was still trembling with reaction to the close call Matt had just had at her hands, Sabrina echoed the question. “What the devil is going on, Matt?”

“Come on, let’s get behind those chairs over there. I’ll tell you what I can.”

Sabrina crawled quickly for the relative safety of the barricade and then huddled against the wall to make room for the two men. She couldn’t believe Matt was here. The sense of relief was overwhelming. She had a violent urge to grab him, hold him close, and make him promise he would never again abandon her for any quasi-military adventures. But she had so few rights where Matt August was concerned.

Matt settled down beside her, his arm going around Sabrina’s shoulders as Brad crouched nearby.

“Goddamn. I’ve been on more planes than I can count in the last eighteen hours. Not to mention an odd boat or two.” Matt leaned his head back against the wall with an ironic grin. “Catching up with you two has been quite a chore. Whatever made you take Brad and run, Sabrina?”

“I didn’t like the story those two tried to hand me. And I detest Coyne. I don’t trust any of them an inch.”

“Well, I’ll have to admit that in this instance, you had a point. I was driving down the road to the cabin, following Alex’s very exact directions, when I realized there was another car parked several yards from here. It was very plain and very rented. At any rate, when I couldn’t see any lights on in the cabin I decided I’d leave my car behind and take a look on foot. Unfortunately, your friends outside must have heard my car.”

“The shots we heard a few minutes ago? Griffin and Shadwell were shooting at you?” Sabrina asked, appalled.

“They missed. Just as you did. This must be my lucky night. I wanted to check out the situation here in the cabin before I went after those two jokers. So I came in through the bedroom window, opened the door, and found myself facing another gun. Life has just been full of little surprises lately.”

“Hasn’t it, though,” Sabrina agreed. “Any brilliant suggestions about what to do next?”

“Having seen me, our two friends must realize that Coyne’s scheme has suffered a snag or two since they last talked to him. In their position they can’t afford to just retire from the field like good sportsmen. The three of us make an awkward bit of evidence to leave behind.”

“I was afraid of something like that.”

Brad was watching first Sabrina and then Matt. “What happens now?”

Matt stirred, freeing his arm from Sabrina. He smiled at his son and leaned forward to ruffle Brad’s hair. “Now I take a little trip back outside and see if I can take care of the details Sabrina hasn’t yet had time to finish.”

“What are you talking about, Matt? You can’t go out there! Shadwell, at least, will be waiting, and Griffin might still be able to use a gun.” Sabrina sat forward hastily, her fingers closing around Matt’s arm.

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes calm and sure. “We can’t sit here and wait them out, honey. I guarantee you, they aren’t going to leave voluntarily. In the morning the odds will be on their side. That is, if they don’t decide to set this cabin on fire first and smoke us out. I’m surprised they didn’t try that already. Our best bet is to act quickly and make use of the darkness. It evens things out a bit. Don’t look so panicked, honey. This sort of situation is custom-designed to take advantage of my expertise.”

Sabrina searched his eyes for a moment longer and knew he spoke the truth. There really was no choice. Wordlessly she nodded.

“I’ll be back as soon as I finish,” Matt said quietly. He looked at Brad. “You two stay here behind the chairs and keep the gun. Use it on anything that moves. I’ll yell before I come back inside this time, so there won’t be any embarrassing mistakes.”

“Do that,” Sabrina stressed tartly. She was still shivering from the reaction she felt at having almost shot Matt. “But won’t you need a gun?”

“I’m armed,” Matt assured her gently.

“Be careful, Dad.” Brad started to put out his hand to touch his father and then withdrew it. His eyes were eloquent.

Matt touched him briefly on the shoulder. “You’re a fine one to talk.”

In spite of his anxiety Brad grinned. “
Bet
it’s a while before Sabrina makes me go to the ballet again.”

“Next time we’ll try the museum,” Sabrina put in firmly.

Matt slipped back through the bedroom door and out the window he had used earlier to enter the cabin. A heavy cloud cover canceled most of the moonlight. He dropped to the ground below the window and faded quickly into the scrubby, windblown shrubs that were scattered around the cabin.

In the distance the crash of a surf being stirred up by the incoming storm covered most other noises. The cottage was located on a bluff overlooking a small cove. The shots that had been aimed at him earlier had come from the far side of the house.

There was no telling where Shadwell might be at the moment, but if Sabrina had done enough damage to Griffin the man might still be lying near the front door. Identifying the location of at least one of the opposition would be useful. Sliding the knife out of the sheath he had switched from his thigh to his belt, Matt circled around to the front of the beach cottage. There he crouched behind boulders that had been tumbled by a careless hand eons ago. There was no body lying conveniently by the front door.

Which meant, Matt thought broodingly, that he had to proceed on the assumption there were still two armed men somewhere out here. He might as well start working his way back toward the rented compact he’d spotted on the way in.

It was a long, cautious trip even though the car was less than fifty yards down the sandy road. The wind was picking up, blowing energetically in off the ocean. It was a fresh, clean smell, not at all reminiscent of the jungle.

Matt considered that as he wove his way through the tangled foliage. So why did these nights spent hunting with a knife in his hand always feel the same?

The car Griffin and Shadwell had used was still parked on the side of the road. In order to get close, Matt realized, he was going to have to expose himself to anyone watching from inside the car. What he needed was a little diversion. Something simple and elementary.

Reaching down, he picked up a stone at his feet and hurled it with all the strength and accuracy he had developed for throwing knives. The stone struck the front windshield. Hertz would not be pleased.

The impact didn’t shatter the window, but it put a sizable hole through the glass. If there was anyone inside, he ought to be somewhat nervous by now, Matt decided.

No one came out firing. Matt edged closer and hurled another rock. Anyone as jumpy as whoever had shot at him earlier would not be able to resist the urge to retaliate if he was in the car under attack. The implication being, of course, that the car was empty.

And if the car was empty, why was the back door slightly ajar? Matt asked himself with growing curiosity. Two people using a four-door car rarely had occasion to open the back door.

The wind howled, blowing more clouds across the moon. Matt decided to take a chance. He waited a few seconds longer and then flowed across the road, a dark shadow among a thousand other shadows.

He reached the rear of the car without drawing any reaction. Crouching low, he made his way around the side to where the back door was partially opened. There was a dark, wet stain on the white paint of the car door.

Griffin, apparently, had made it back to the car. Matt kicked open the door and waited, staying out of the line of sight of anyone on the backseat. After a second he risked a glance.

A pair of plain brown dress shoes was the first thing he saw. Griffin was still in them, lying curled awkwardly on the backseat. He didn’t stir as Matt touched his leg. Edging forward, Matt checked the man’s pulse. Still alive but apparently unconscious. It looked as though Sabrina had gotten him in the shoulder, just as Brad claimed. Griffin had made some attempt at bandaging the wound before he blacked out and had succeeded far enough at least to avoid bleeding to death. He was not going to be a problem, Matt told himself, and backed carefully to the rear of the car.

Where the hell had Sabrina learned to handle a gun? Come to that, where the hell had she gotten the .38 in the first place? There was no doubt that she was prepared to use it on anyone who tried to take his son from her side.

But, then, Sabrina had never been short on either determination or sheer guts. He remembered that first night in Acapulco when she’d fought him. He felt awed by the fact that she was now protecting his son so fiercely. Christ! To think he had almost lost her when she’d left Acapulco to return to Dallas.

Slipping back into the brush, Matt started toward the cottage. Shadwell was alone and knew it. He was undoubtedly very wired at the moment, liable to shoot at anything that moved. It must have been Shadwell who had fired those wild shots earlier. And it was Shadwell who would realize he couldn’t afford to leave Matt or Sabrina alive now that Coyne’s plans had been ruined.

Matt kept moving, shifting through the shadows in a manner that was second nature. Gradually he worked his way back toward the cottage, circling it in concentric rings. Sooner or later he would come across Shadwell.

It was a slow, painstaking process, but one learned patience in the jungle. Matt kept going, covering the ground thoroughly. Sooner or later Shadwell would sense he was being stalked and he’d panic.

It happened just as Matt was moving toward the bluff. He was about thirty feet from the cottage when the powerful flashlight beam flared on. Shadwell had lost his nerve.

The arcing beam sliced overhead as Matt dropped to his knees. Shadwell had stupidly given away his position, apparently unable to stand any longer the tension of the hunt.

Two shots rang out. Matt stayed low, moving on his belly across the sandy ground. Shadwell was at the corner of the house, apparently huddled behind a dark shape that resembled a garbage can. He was cutting the night with huge swaths of light in a desperate effort to pick out his hunter.

Matt made it to the far corner of the house and considered his options. It seemed simplest and most efficient to go across the roof.
Resheathing
the knife, he stepped up on the railing, caught the low overhang of the moderately sloped roof in both hands, and pulled himself upward. Damn it, he really was getting too old for this sort of thing.

The increasing noise of surf and wind covered the small sounds he made, but even so, Matt decided, he was making too much noise for the task involved. He was losing it—definitely time to get out of this business.

By the time he had crawled across the roof and lay gazing down at the top of Shadwell’s swiveling head, Matt was telling himself that Sabrina had had a point when she had told him he was well off out of the military. He didn’t get off on it anymore. All he wanted now was a hot shower and a warm bed with Sabrina in it.

Promising himself all three, Matt gripped the knife and went over the edge of the roof.

Shadwell managed one more shot, but it was a useless, reflexive act of panic. Matt landed solidly on the other man, knocking the breath out of him. They both rolled, toppling the garbage can. And then something glittered in Shadwell’s fingers.

Goddamn it to hell. Who’d have thought the bastard would be carrying a knife? Matt wondered vaguely as he blocked the slicing blow with his forearm.

The battle was short and vicious, the way most close-in knife fighting usually was. But Matt held the advantage of surprise and he used it ruthlessly. In seconds Shadwell realized he was overwhelmed.

Matt sprawled on top of his victim, his knife at Shadwell’s throat, but Shadwell was spending all his energy frantically gasping for air. The gun wound up several feet away.

“You and your associates have put me to a great deal of trouble,” Matt explained with soft politeness.

“A deal,” Shadwell hissed as air finally came back into his lungs. “We can make a deal.”

“I’ve already made my deal. And I’m afraid you don’t fit into the big picture.” He released Shadwell and got to his feet. “Get up. Just for kicks let’s go see if your friend Griffin is still alive.”

Twenty minutes later Sabrina watched Matt apply a good portion of the contents of her father’s well-equipped first-aid kit to the shoulder of the unconscious Griffin. Shadwell lay on the floor, trussed with clothesline. Brad hovered nearby, morbidly fascinated with the wound in Griffin’s shoulder.