Eye of the Storm (8 page)

A flash of gunfire erupted from the palm trees to the left of the house. Their stalker had obviously heard the engine and shifted position. Simone appeared at the door, firing into the trees. The assailant answered with his own volley, effectively pinning her in the house.

Cursing under his breath, Reece gunned the car, gravel spitting beneath the wheels as he spun the car up onto the porch, the Jag acting as a momentary barrier. The rear left window blew out with a hail of glass as Simone threw herself into the car. Reece pressed the pedal to the floor, and the big car lunged off the porch and up the drive, plumes of dust following in its wake.

"You okay?" He risked a quick look at his ex.

"I'm fine." Simone rolled down the window and stuck her head out to see if the shooter was following. "I can't see a damn thing in this fog." As if in answer to her frustration, they heard the sound of an engine pushing its limits as headlights appeared behind them in the mirror.

"Looks like we've got company," Martin said, his voice tight with pain.

Reece glanced again in the rearview mirror, this time at his brother. Fresh blood stained his shirt. "You're bleeding again."

Simone pivoted around so that she could see Martin. "When did it start?"

"When we ran for the car. I think maybe I tore the stitches." He shrugged. "There's really not a lot we can do about it now."

"You can get down." Simone's tone was surprisingly gentle. "And keep pressure on it. All right?"

Martin nodded as the lights behind them grew brighter.

"He's gaining on us." Simone's eyes were back on the car behind them.

Reece agreed but hesitated to push the needle higher. There was no doubt the Jag was capable of more speed, but the fog made it hard to maneuver.

"You don't have a choice." As usual, Simone had read his mind.

He pressed the Jag forward.

Except for the glow of the headlights behind them, the highway was quiet, the island completely blanketed by the mist. The moisture invaded the car with salty fingers, the oppressive feel of it giving added urgency to their flight.

The car lights behind them stayed steady, neither gaining nor losing ground. For the moment at least they were safe. But Reece wasn't certain how long he could hold the advantage. A light rain had begun to fall, the asphalt slick with it, traction receding with every passing minute.

And time was running out. Mustang Island ended with the causeway, the well-lit bridge both a blessing and a curse. While it would be easier to drive, the added light would also illuminate the Jag, making them more easily targeted.

"We could try the beach," Martin said, his voice weak from exertion.

"Too wet," Reece responded. "We'd just bog down in the sand. I think the causeway is our best bet."

"There's bound to be more traffic," Simone agreed. "And if we're lucky that'll hold him off and give us time to figure out our next move."

The lights behind them suddenly grew larger as their hunter, obviously following the same line of thought, made a play to reach them. The fog parted for a second, the black Lexus behind them momentarily visible.

Reece pushed the pedal to the floor, giving the Jag its head, the car responding by surging forward into the night.

A green highway sign flashed by, indicating that the causeway was coming. Ahead of them they could see the line of light streaking out into the bay as it headed across the water to the mainland.

"Maybe I can throw him off." Reece gunned the car again, the rear end fishtailing a little as it picked up even more speed. "I won't get off until the last possible moment"

Simone turned to look behind her. "He's closing in again."

A sharp crack echoed through the car as something hit the back window, a spider web appearing in the left-hand corner where the bullet had hit.

"Everyone okay?" Simone's voice was filled with worry as she turned to check on Martin.

"All in one piece. Although I can't say as much for the Jag." Martin motioned to the windshield behind him, as usual using humor to hide his fear.

The car lights had moved back again, as if waiting to see what their next move would be. Another green sign flashed by out of the mist, this time overhead. "The exit's just up ahead. I'll wait until the very last minute and then veer right. With a little luck, it'll be too late for the shooter to follow."

Simone nodded her approval, then hung out the window, taking a shot at the car behind them. The lights receded a little in response.

"At least he knows we're still armed," Simone said as she settled back into the seat.

The causeway exit loomed to the right, and Reece pushed the accelerator as he kept the wheel straight, for all intents and purposes appearing to be passing the exit.

"Brace yourselves," he said, shooting a sideways glance at Simone, "this isn't going to be pretty."

Yanking the wheel hard to the right, he felt the Jag skid across the wet pavement. For a moment he thought he'd lost control, but the tires found purchase and the car swerved onto the exit ramp, then straightened to merge onto the causeway.

There was a moment of blessed black behind them in the rearview mirror and then the flash of headlights as the Lexus hit the pavement of the causeway, sparks flying behind it.

"Damn it," Reece mumbled under his breath, but Simone reached over to touch his knee.

"You're doing great."

"Son of a bitch just keeps coming."

The lights along the edge of the causeway caused an eerie reflection in the water on either side of them. Traffic was a little heavier here. Although most of it was coming from the other direction.

The Lexus closed the distance a bit, but not enough to put it within shooting range. All Reece had to do was keep up the pace and he'd make the mainland with them all in one piece. Then they'd be able to lose their stalker. He knew the back roads like the back of his hand, having traveled them most of his life. Surely an advantage over whoever the hell was behind them.

"He's getting closer." Martin had popped up again and was turned to look out the back window.

"Get down," Reece barked, shooting a quick look at his brother over his shoulder.

"Reece, watch out," Simone's tone was sharp as he turned back to focus on the road.

A tractor-trailer rig loomed out of the mist, seemingly heading right for them. A trick of the light, and despite his instinct to slow down and veer away, Reece forced himself to hold his course. The truck whizzed past them, spraying rain from the puddles on the road as it moved by.

For an instant Reece's view was obscured by the cascading water, and the car hydroplaned in the backwash. He fought for control, but the car skidded to the right, fish tailing back and forth as he struggled for traction.

One minute he could feel the tires spinning against the pavement, and then there was nothing—a moment of complete and utter stillness followed by the impact of the Jag smashing into the storm-tossed waves of the bay.

ICY WATER RUSHED through the open window as the car crested on a wave and then began to sink. "Everyone okay?" Simone yelled as she fumbled with the wet buckle of her seat belt. The car was going down fast, whatever buoyancy remaining countered by the open and shattered windows.

Martin groaned from the back, and Simone twisted so that she could see him. The car had slammed through a restraining barrier before hitting the water, the brunt of the impact on the back right quadrant of the car. As a result, Martin's door was jammed inward, pinning his right shoulder and arm to the seat.

"Martin?" This from Reece, whose face was covered with blood. Fortunately, he seemed to be moving all right, and had managed to free himself from his seat belt. "Can you hear me?"

Martin groaned again in response, his eyes fluttering open and then closed once more.

"He's in shock." Simone yanked herself free of the belt. The water was already at chin level and rising fast. They only had a few more minutes. "We've got to get him out of here."

"Martin, wake up." Reece's voice held a note of command, and Martin opened his eyes. "I need you to stay conscious, bro. And when I tell you, I want you to hold your breath. All right?"

Martin nodded, but his eyes weren't focused.

"Martin," Reece barked again, starting to climb over the headrest. Martin blew out a breath and then sucked in another. He was with them.

"Let me do it," Simone said, already moving between the seats. "You go through the window and see if you can kick out the back panel. It'll be easier to get him out that way."

Reece opened his mouth to argue, but Simone shook her head. "There's no room for us both back there. And you're stronger. It's our best chance." Their eyes met for a moment, and then he pushed past her over the headrest and through the shattered passenger window.

Simone followed, gulping air before ducking beneath the surface of the frigid water to free Martin from restraint. The buckle yielded on her first try, but Martin was still pinned.

Surfacing for air, Simone met Martin's eyes, his expression surprisingly calm. "Breathe," she whispered, and then ducked under the water again. Working from bottom to top, she felt along the line where the door had buckled against Martin. From waist to underarm the door had only clamped onto his shirt. At the shoulder however, the metal pushed against muscle, pinning him to the seat.

She surfaced again, noting that there was only a fraction of air left available, the car now totally submerged. As she drew in another breath, she saw Reece outside the rear window, working to break the already splintered glass.

If they could wait until the pressure inside had equalized with that outside, they'd be able to open the door. But in all honesty she wasn't certain Martin could hold on that long. He'd tipped back his head, his nose protruding into the last bit of open space. It wouldn't last much longer. But at least she had another minute or so.

Working off of pure adrenaline, she grabbed a last breath, knowing there wouldn't be another until they were out of the car, then ripped the T-shirt from neckline to shoulder. Free of the shirt, Martin was now held only at the shoulder.

With her pulse beating out a frantic rhythm, she worked to free him. She simply wasn't strong enough to move the door. So she pushed on the seat instead, relieved when the leather moved inward, compressing its padding. If she could give it enough force, she might be able to create enough space between the leather and the door for Martin to slide free.

Bracing her feet against the front seat, she pushed backward with all her strength, the leather indenting, but not enough to free Martin. Her air was running out. And when hers was gone, so was Martin's, the only difference being that she could head for the surface.

Martin could not.

Fighting against a thread of panic, she pushed harder, but the upholstery held firm. She just didn't have the necessary force. Her lungs tightened to bursting point, instinct demanding that she take a breath. She fought the urge as she scrambled to try and figure out an alternative to moving the seat

Suddenly beneath her fingers the leather moved. Reece appeared through the murky gloom on the other side of Martin, adding his weight to her attempt. At first the leather refused to compress any further, but then, as if finally giving in, it mashed inward, and Reece jerked his brother free.

Swimming through the cleared rear window, he turned to grab Martin, and together they slid him through the window. Certain that she was going to explode, Simone focused on Reece and Martin, swimming through the window and following them as they headed for the surface.

In seconds, she'd broken through the surf and was bobbing in the waves, gulping blessed oxygen. A couple of yards away, Reece treaded water, still holding Martin, both of them swallowing air as if it were liquid chocolate.

As soon as her head cleared, Simone searched the bridge for signs of the shooter, but was met instead by the bright lights of a couple of cars. The fact that there was more than one seemed to indicate that the shooter had fled, but there was no way to know for certain.

Better to swim the other way.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spied a spit of land that had served as an older road. If memory was correct, it would take them back to the mainland but keep them out of sight. She swam over to Reece and after motioning silence, pointed to the old road bed.

He glanced at the bridge, then nodded his understanding. Martin was conscious but not capable of swimming on his own. Simone offered to take him, but Reece shook his head, already striking out away from the bridge.

Simone paused for a moment, still treading water, and glanced first at the darkened shore of the island and then toward the bridge. She'd won this round. Managed to evade the killer, twice in fact.

Of course, the third time was the charm.

The question being—for whom?

*****

THE ENTERPRISE RENTAL office in Flour Bluff was thankfully both warm and open. They'd met no one on their trek along the old road, and wet people in a seaside city hardly raised eyebrows. Even when one of them was injured.

A quick stop at the Wal-Mart, and from there a gas station bathroom, and even those problems were solved, Martin freshly bandaged and everyone kitted out in dry clothing. Simone had even managed to restitch the wound. If the situation hadn't been so ludicrous, Reece would probably have admired his ex-wife's handling of the situation.

The fact that his new Jag was currently sitting at the bottom of the bay notwithstanding, everything seemed to be going fine. There'd been no sign of the shooter. And thanks to Simone's fake credentials, no need to deal with reality.

It was as if he'd fallen into one of the suspense novels he loved to read. Normality giving way to the frighteningly absurd as the plot progressed. All they had to do now was retrieve their rental car and ride off into the sunset.

Obviously shock was taking its toll.

Martin, despite his close brush with death, seemed to be all right. Fresh air had done wonders for his color, and thanks to Simone, his wound was again on the mend.

Simone stood at the car-rental desk, talking with the uniformed clerk, her hands waving to underscore her words. Some things never changed. The walk along the old road had been a quiet one, most of the conversation centering on Martin's welfare and checking to be certain they weren't followed.

How easily he'd allowed himself to be sucked into her world.

By necessity
, his inner voice argued, but he knew it was more than that.

He still hadn't a clue what this was all about. But he was sure of one thing. No matter what the hell kind of trouble she was in, whatever she'd done, or been involved with, it was clear she'd had training of some kind.

There was a stillness about her that he had only seen in soldiers. And not just regular army. The elite units. Marines, Delta Force, Rangers.

Fresh out of college, the military had seemed an obvious choice given Reece's predilection for adrenaline rushes. And after he'd failed to qualify as a pilot, he'd needed to prove himself. To find something bigger and better. So he'd become a Ranger.

And somewhere along the way, he'd developed a knack for ferreting out information with the tenacity of a tunnel rat. His expertise with intel had shot him from the frying pan into the fire, coordinating a series of top-secret assignments in Iraq. As a part of those missions, he'd worked closely with some of the cagiest men alive. Men who lived so deeply inside themselves that they were almost shadows.

Simone had that stillness now. The deep focus that meant she was always alert, always on guard. In point of fact, she'd always had it—when she'd insisted on using cash, or obsessed about working out, or when she'd successfully eluded his more pointed efforts to get her to open up. He simply hadn't recognized the trait out of context. He'd written it off as charming eccentricity.

Whatever she was involved in, it was serious shit.

There was no doubt in his mind.

Military training didn't preclude any of the things he'd accused her of. But at least until he'd given her another chance to explain, he wasn't going to turn her in.

The pertinent question, of course, being whether or not she'd open up enough to tell him.

Probably not.

At least willingly.

He smiled, the gesture tight, mocking. He was barking at the moon if he thought he'd get anything out of her. He had tried forcing his way in once before, the result being divorce. Whatever the hell was going on, she was determined to handle it on her own.

If Martin hadn't been caught in the middle of things, Reece had no doubt Simone would be long gone by now. The keys and phone on the table at home had been testament to the fact. But she hadn't abandoned either of them. And it would have been easy enough to do so on more than one occasion. Hell, she'd probably saved Martin's life— twice.

"Do you think he'll ask what happened?" Martin asked. He was sipping a cup of tepid coffee they'd bought at the gas station. It was amazing what waterlogged money would buy.

"No. As long as she has money, they don't give a damn."

Martin nodded, concentrating on his coffee.

"We're all set." Simone walked over to them, keys in hand.

"What did you tell him?" He asked as they headed out the door.

"That we'd had a breakdown. He offered to get someone to tow the car, but I said we'd already called the auto club." She shrugged, exhaustion only serving to ratchet the tension stretching between them. "It seemed the easiest way to deal with things. I'm sorry about your car."

Reece almost laughed. "The car is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Well, sooner or later someone is going to find it. So you'd better have answers ready."

"The implication being that I should avoid the truth."

"Damn it, Reece, I'm too tired to argue. Tell them any damn thing you want." She stopped in front of a blue Ford and unlocked the door.

"Just keep
you
out of it." He met her eyes across the top of the car.

"Obviously it would be better if you did."

So they were back where they started. Full circle. Stop.

"So what next?" Martin asked, eyeing them both as if they were contaminated explosives. Probably not far from the truth.

"We hole up for the night." Reece looked to Simone, waiting for her to protest. To try and walk out again. "We need to put a little distance between us and what happened out there." He tilted his head toward the pounding surf outside the Enterprise office.

"Fine." Her agreement came surprisingly easily. "But I think we need to get out of the area."

Reece nodded, opening the door for Martin. "Maybe San Antonio?"

"Too far and too high profile. We need somewhere big enough to get lost in but small enough to seem improbable." Again he was aware of the fact that she'd clearly been in this position before, and was trained to deal with it.

"So maybe Victoria?" The little town was halfway between Corpus and San Antonio, well off the beaten track.

"There's a Holiday Inn Express there," Martin volunteered, sliding into the back seat.

"It might work." Simone said, her expression hard to read. "It's far enough away to be certain that we're not being followed, and close enough to be overlooked."

"So we head for Victoria." Reece slid into the front passenger seat. He'd had enough driving for one day.

Simone put the key into the ignition. "Thanks for not forcing me to go to the police."

"Didn't see that it would help anything." He shrugged. "At least not right now. The best thing we can do is get Martin somewhere safe and warm. Then maybe you can explain what the hell is going on."

She nodded, but her face hardened, and Reece wondered if he'd ever really known her at all. They sat for a moment, the silence stretching between them.

"You think he's still out there?" Martin asked, staring out the window at the cars driving down the interstate.