Bridal Armor (13 page)

He had news for that someone: he wasn’t going down easy.

He rolled down the windows and turned off the heater to make it easier to hear the helicopter.

“It’s getting closer,” he said. “Can you identify it?”

She listened and twisted around in her seat, trying to get eyes on it while he did his best to keep them on the road in the lousy conditions.

“Definitely not civilian.”

He agreed. The taller trees obscured their view, but they also reacted to the rotor wash. “Behind us.” The treetops were bowing. “Right flank.”

“Got it,” she said, straining against the seat belt as he took a hairpin turn too quickly. “Oh, no.”

“What?” But he thought he knew.

“It’s a Russian Hind.”

“Good.”

“What? You do have a death wish.”

“Not as maneuverable. Very memorable.” And not American meant privately contracted or a European enemy. If Holt were involved he could have mustered U.S. equipment without too much paperwork, especially here in the backyard of both the Air Force and NORAD.

But analysis took a backseat to evasion as a tree exploded in front of them.

“I should have rented an up-armored Hummer,” she muttered as they bounced around and through the debris.

“Is that an available option package?”

After a stunned pause, she laughed. “Only at select dealerships.”

“In Idaho or Montana,” he joked, stomping on the gas as they hit an exposed straight stretch of road.

Her laughter was a welcome counterpoint to the persistent rotors bearing down on them.

“How can you joke at a time like this?”

“I’m human.” And he’d rather go out laughing than crying. “Open up that package.”

She hurried to oblige and still preserve as much evidence as possible, slicing the tape at the seams with her fingernail. “If this beacon blows up, it’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

“Same goes. But it won’t.”

He felt the air change as the helicopter pilot had to lift, compensating for a thicker stand of trees. It was a welcome reprieve. They were almost to the state road.

He slowed down, taking advantage of the cover though it wouldn’t buy them much more than a few seconds. “Glenstone or Denver?”

“Has to be Denver.”

Thomas wasn’t so sure.

“Better cover.”

“But—” They were closer to Glenstone. He had to believe even a small population would be a deterrent to the shooter in the helicopter. It was going to be a long, lonely stretch of two-lane highway before they met the Interstate.

“They expect us to head to Glenstone,” she added. “For both the sale and the wedding. In Denver we can—”

The menacing roar of the helicopter engine and rotors filled the air. Bullets tore up the roadway behind them. He floored it again and when he reached the state highway, he turned toward Denver. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and a crosswind will force him down.”

“I know for a fact Director Casey has never relied on luck.”

“That’s because luck’s a fickle b—” Jo’s exclamation cut him off. “What now?”

She held up the box and he swore at the sight of the glaring red light blinking on a small transmitter and a vial that looked all too familiar. A neatly folded note was tucked between the two.

If he’d harbored any doubts about a setup, they were gone now. “Assuming that’s the real stuff in that vial, why bother when they’re determined to make me dead?”

“Evidence,” she said. “Ties it up in a neat bow for whoever investigates why they took lethal action against a man of your standing.”

She was right. He downshifted, managed the turn and prayed for a crosswind as they burst into a wide-open stretch of slushy, sunlit road. He nearly cheered when he saw an eighteen-wheeler and a couple of other cars heading their way.

He slowed down, hoping the gunner in the chopper was smart enough to avoid witnesses.

“What does the note say?”

She removed and opened it tentatively. “‘Enjoy your retirement.’”

“Oh, I will. When it’s my decision,” he growled.

He almost pulled a U-turn in the middle of the winding road, ready to tear apart Glenstone until he found Whelan and shook the truth out of him.

“He’s out over the river,” Jo reported.

Thomas jerked his thoughts away from the dark but satisfying vision of interrogating Whelan again. He had other things to think about. Like how to lose the helicopter shadowing their movements. There were options; he just had to find the right one.

“Forget that a minute.” He tapped the map tucked into the cup holder in the console between them. “Tell me what’s coming up.”

She rattled off names of roads, a few he recalled from last night. “Give me a road with a creek and a blind corner.”

“You don’t ask for much, do you?”

He actually laughed. “You hadn’t heard the rumors of my exhausting standards?”

She snorted. “I always thought they were exaggerations.”

Traffic slowed and Thomas was forced to match the pace or cause trouble for innocent bystanders. The helicopter swooped right over them. “He’s looking for a fast resolution. Failing a divine intervention, we need cover.”

“This next intersection leads out to Eagle Creek.”

He judged the terrain from his current position and pulled over to turn left at the light. It looked like this way would have more tree cover.

“Is there really a creek?”

“Yes. The road runs alongside for a bit.”

“How long?”

“Looks like about ten miles.”

“Great. Do you have a plastic zipper bag?”

“Yes. The one I used to get through airport security.” She set the open box aside and dug into the depths of her oversize purse. “Got it.”

Both of them looked skyward as the sound of the rotors grew louder. The big attack helicopter had found the firing solution. Staying low, the pilot followed the open space of the road, giving the gunner a good line of sight.

“Thomas?”

He heard the doubt and fear in that one word, hated that he’d put her in this position. An unfamiliar worry that he couldn’t pull this one out churned in his gut. “Not very friendly looking this close, huh?”

“Not at all,” she agreed.

“Where’s a surface-to-air missile when you need one?”

She didn’t laugh this time and he couldn’t blame her. With the reptilian paint job and the wings loaded with armament, the helicopter looked exactly like what it was: a mean, deadly machine.

“That was the point of the design.” He started rambling, offering a short lesson on the design history as a distraction, hoping cold logic would help somehow. In truth, her fear was more than justified. They were sitting ducks, stuck in the left turn lane just waiting for the fatal bullet.

“They won’t shoot in front of all these witnesses,” Jo said.

He disagreed with her, but he didn’t say it. Whoever wanted him dead had a clear and effective exit strategy. The pilot and gunner wouldn’t care about a few bystanders on the ground who would never be able to identify the shooter or accurately describe the helicopter. Thomas muttered curses at the light and the cars in front of him until the light finally changed and traffic started moving. He followed the string of cars through the intersection and gave thanks for the sudden shadows of the tall trees on either side of the road.

“Careful of the vial, put the beacon in the plastic bag,” he said. “Now we just need an overlook or something where we can get close to the creek.”

The helicopter was never out of earshot, and Thomas envisioned the pilot swinging back and forth over the road, tracking the beacon but unable to get eyes on them.

“There!” Jo pointed to an overlook sign, and in the lighter traffic he was able to pull over to the shoulder and quickly pull to a stop.

Maybe luck was on their side as the lot was currently clear of other travelers.

He held out his hand for the bag and she gave it to him. “Back the car into the trees while I take care of this.”

He sneered at the pesky flashing light and double-checked the seal on his way to the waterway. With a silent prayer he flung the bag toward the water.

He watched just long enough to see it land in the water and bob along with the modest current. Floating the beacon downstream was a sucker’s bet at best, but if it bought them a few moments of peace, he’d take it.

Hearing the helicopter circling back, he took cover under the low-hanging limbs of a tree. Snow skittered down his collar, melting in a bitter-cold trickle between his shirt and his skin. But he didn’t so much as blink while he waited for the helicopter to pass by. The mottled gray-green beast hovered in the area for a tension-filled eternity before moving on.

Jogging back to the car, he shook the remaining snow out of his jacket. “Move over,” he said, gesturing for her to shift out of the driver’s seat.

“Where to now?” She buckled up and looked at him expectantly. “Denver or Glenstone. We could get this tested in the city.”

“Glenstone,” he replied, moving cautiously into the traffic lane. “What’s in the vial doesn’t matter as long as we control it.”

“Then why not just head on up to the lodge?”

He shook his head. Eager as he was to spend time with Casey and Cecelia, he hadn’t forgotten the very real threat of an angry explosives expert. “Only after Whelan’s in custody.”

She peered up at the sky, but the view was clear and the only sounds were normal traffic. “How long before they realize they’ve lost us?”

“As they say in poker, they’ve been rivered. Hopefully long enough to get us safely into Glenstone.”

Anticipating his next request, she pulled out the map. “Let me find an alternate route.”

He reached across the seat and gave her hand a squeeze. She couldn’t know how much he needed to touch her, to assure himself they’d pull this off. “Thank you for not believing the worst of me.”

“You as a traitor is only possible in an alternate reality. I’m well aware you’re no saint,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “But hero certainly applies after you saved us from Godzilla-copter.”

He brought his hand back to the steering wheel, needing the distance. The feelings rushing through him now were fierce and he wasn’t sure he could handle them and focus his attention where it needed to be. “It’s a long shot he’ll stay gone. They know where we were and where we’re headed.”

* * *

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profile; as capable as he was, the tension of the chase showed in his white knuckles and clenched jaw. “We can change where we’re headed.”

“If we don’t show up at Glenstone, Whelan’s sure to go to the resort. I can’t risk him hurting anyone there to draw me out.”

“I sent an email about the Hind while you were tossing the beacon.”

“Why?”

“You’re not the only one with contacts.”

“Grant will be enough help.”

“You trust him? After all of this? If someone can send a beacon to my mother’s cabin and order a Russian gunship to take us out, I think it’s high time I called on one of my contacts.”

“You’ll be in enough trouble as it is, when the committee realizes you’ve helped me.”

He was right. They would never approve of how she’d handled this. “I think it’s safe to say the committee believes we’re in this together. Which is one reason I used my primary account to report a helicopter firing on civilians to an old Air Force buddy.”

“He didn’t fire on civilians, just us.”

“Hmm. I thought your primary purpose for being in Colorado was vacation.”

“That’s a fine line you’re dancing on.”

“Right. Because you never blur those edges.”

“Contacts don’t like being used, Jo.”

She studied the map, looking for another way into Glenstone. It kept her from making eye contact with him. “Well, if you can’t burn a bridge for a friend, what’s the point?”

“We’re friends?”

She refused to dignify that with any comment. She didn’t know how to answer. Her heart ached with love for him, but it was clear he was only interested in more of the physical. He still hadn’t shown her any real trust. This was the worst possible time and place to have those feelings but it was beyond her control...very much like this situation. Any of myriad agents she’d worked with or investigated could have enjoyed an affair in the Alps for what it was: a good time.

She’d had five years to review and reassess those brief days. With anyone else it would have been a good time and fond memories. But Jo had felt so much more with Thomas. That had been the personal angle she’d set out to accomplish on this very delicate assignment, and now she knew friends—even friends with benefits—wouldn’t be enough for her.

Thomas held a piece of her heart she’d never expected to lose. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

“Too bad we can’t test this virus on the pilot once the Air Force forces him to land.”

Thomas’s deep laugh loosened the knots in her stomach that had been twisting around since that kiss. She touched her lips, remembering. Being trapped between his hot body and the cold snow had been the most delicious sensation. There wasn’t much point denying it, she just had to figure out how to get over it. Too bad she didn’t have the first clue.

The desire was there, on a consistent simmer between them. All it needed was a private opportunity to boil over again. They’d have that tonight—provided they lived that long.

Yes, she’d wanted to test the staying power of the passion they’d shared five years ago. Fool that she was, now that it was too late, she realized seizing that opportunity would only end in heartache. He hadn’t changed. She wasn’t sure he was capable of trusting anyone other than himself.

“Any options?”

“No.” She wanted to crumple the map into a tiny ball and toss it out the window. “It’s a mountain. One road straight through town. Smaller streets branch off, but as you said, ‘choke point.’”

“We need to get ahead of this.”

She pointed to the clock on the dash. “If the Hind is still in the area, he’s surely reported losing us by now. And the Air Force will be looking for him.”

“Not if the beacon’s still transmitting.”