Marton, Dana (3 page)

“You couldn’t have prevented what happened. Nobody could have predicted it.”
She reached over and gave his hand a friendly squeeze, pulling away too soon.

He took a deep breath, pushed back the guilt and the pain. He had a mission
to finish.

“Here we go,” Mia said as Jenny’s car started up. “They’re leaving together.”

And they weren’t going to her place. Fleming was at the wheel. He drove in
the opposite direction.

“I’m going in.” Cameron got out of the car.

They’d been watching the damn motel all morning. Fleming had dropped Jenny
Peltier off, then left. They’d hedged their bets on the theory that the man
brought Jenny here for a quick meeting with Fowler.

“Stop.” Mia came after him. “These things take time. He might not come till
tonight.”

He considered, knew she was right, but it didn’t help his frustration. “At
the very least, I am stretching my legs. They’ve been asleep since I set foot in
that sardine can of yours.”

She looked offended. “It’s a perfect surveillance vehicle.”

“I don’t see what was wrong with mine.”

“Other than it’s a Hummer painted like the American flag? Right, nobody would
notice that.”

Her phone must have buzzed in her pocket because she pulled it out and opened
it.

“What’s up, Bill?” She listened. “Thanks for the heads up. Let me know if you
hear anything.” She tucked the phone away. “Friend of mine,” she said when she
was done. “Word is, a couple of bounty hunters are going after Fowler. The kind
of money that’s on his head is hard to resist.”

He didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t want anyone else to start meddling
in his business. “So you form a team with them or something?”

She laughed. “Hardly. It’s more like a friendly competition.”

“Nothing to worry about then. We’ll get to Fowler first.” He kept an eye on
the green pickup that circled the parking lot.

“I’m counting on it. I’ve got bills to pay.”

“This happens a lot? The competition stuff?”

“Sometimes. Mostly, we try not to interfere with each other’s hunt.
Professional courtesy.” She shrugged.

“But five hundred grand is hard to ignore.”

“Something like that.”

“Will others try to stop us?”

“I can’t picture any of the guys I know going that far, but I won’t be able
to count on information or favors. It’s each person for himself.”

He was about to respond when the motel door opened and Jenny Peltier walked
out not ten feet from them, heading their way.

He froze. What now? In his job, when the enemy discovered his location, he
started shooting. He couldn’t think of anything but the oldest trick in the
book. He pulled Mia to his chest, tilted her head to his and bent to her lips
like he meant it.

The sensation of their lips touching came as a shock. Cameron had expected
something impersonal, cursory, pretend. He didn’t count on his body’s instant
reaction to the softness of her lips, the faint smell of peanut butter that
seemed to go straight to his head.

It had been a good long time since he had kissed a woman. Apparently, his
body hadn’t forgotten a thing. Now that he’d gotten the smallest of tastes, he
wanted to go on and do a good job of it.

“Mmm.”

Which one of them made that noise?

He had to stop. If he lingered at her lips a moment more, he risked losing
his professionalism. He dragged his mouth over her chin instead, placed small
kisses along the jawline, down to the neck. Mia Russel had the silkiest skin
he’d ever touched.

Somewhere above him, she cleared her throat. “She’s gone back in. Just came
out to get the paper.”

Right. He moved away and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Sorry.” He had
to clear his throat, too. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“It’s — fine. We should probably get into the car and drive around the
building, pull into another spot.”

“Good idea.” He started out. They couldn’t just stand there. Peltier’s window
looked out front. She might have been watching.

“Did you notice?” Mia asked, nodding toward a green pickup that had circled
the parking lot three times that she had counted. They watched as it pulled up
to the building and stopped. A stocky, middle-aged man got out, looked around
furtively then walked through the motel door.

Not Fowler. He was at least a foot shorter than Fowler’s data suggested. But
still, very suspicious.

“I’ll check it out.” Mia was already on her way.

“I can do it,” he said, not liking the idea he wouldn’t be able to see her
once she disappeared behind the door that lead to the rooms.

She tilted her head and gave him an impatient look. “You move like military.
You walk like a sergeant for heaven’s sake.”

“Colonel,” he said under his breath and let her go.

She was back in ten minutes. “He went into Peltier’s room. I heard
‘Careful…they don’t know anything…just the beginning…’ The air conditioner was
going so that’s all I could hear. I think he’s about ready to come out.”

“You listened at the door?” God, if one of them had come out and caught her…
At this stage, they had to consider anyone connected to Fowler armed and
dangerous.

“Best I could do.” She looked as frustrated as he felt.

“I should have gone in.”

“If you can’t handle teamwork, you shouldn’t have come looking for a
partner.”

He was coming up with a snappy retort. It was on the tip of his tongue. But
then she reached back for her snack pack, her breasts pushing against the soft
material of her T-shirt, inches from his arm.

And all he could do was grunt.

Cameron wrote down the pickup’s license plate number and called it in to
Jack. He considered following the guy once he left, then decided against it. His
instincts said Fowler would be closer to the woman than to any of his buddies.

Five minutes after the man’s departure, another arrived. Peltier had six
visitors in the next two hours.

“What the hell is she doing? Servicing the troops?” He tapped his feet,
impatient. “We should grab one of the bastards and get him to tell us where
Fowler is.”

“If we do, Fowler will know we’re close to him. He’ll go even deeper
underground,” Mia said, watching the latest visitor with a thoughtful
expression, her dark eyebrows drawn together over deep blue eyes. “I’m not sure
they know where he is.”

“Hell they don’t.” And he had a couple of ideas on how to get the information
out of them. Rage had been collecting in him; more and more with each man as he
thought about what part each might have played in the bombing. Had this one made
the bomb? Had this one placed it? Was this the one who’d figured out a way
around security?

He wanted to get them; every one of them. That they lived, breathed, walked,
while hundreds of victims were being buried in cemeteries all over the city —
while Vicky was gone — was an insult to everything he believed in. But he wanted
to get Fowler the most. The rest could wait.

“I think she’s passing on instructions,” Mia said. “Think about it. It makes
sense. She’s standing in for Fowler.”

Not a bad theory. He turned over the idea this way and that.

She shook her head slowly. “But how is he getting in touch with her?”

Damned if he knew. He had placed bugs all over her apartment the same day Mia
had tracked the woman’s address down through the Internet. The FBI was checking
her mail, kept tabs on her email. While Jack wasn’t officially on the case, he
had access to information and was good enough of a friend to let things “slip.”

“Here she comes,” he said, as Jenny appeared in the doorway and glanced
around the parking lot.

She was picked up by the same man who’d brought her there. Cameron started up
the car and followed them back to the Laundromat parking lot, then to her
apartment.

But the light in her window didn’t come on, even several minutes after she’d
been dropped off at the front door.

“Maybe she’s feeding the cats first,” Mia suggested.

“The neighbor’s apartment!” They thought of it at the same time. Peltier had
the key so she could get in to take care of her neighbor’s pets.

Fowler hadn’t run off with the rest of his buddies. He’d been hiding in plain
sight.

“I take the door, you take the window,” Mia whispered as they entered the
building.

For once Cameron didn’t object, but went around. He probably figured once she
knocked on the door, Fowler would try to skip the back way, she mused.

The apartment seemed silent, no noise from TV, no sound of anyone moving
around in there.

She drew her gun and tapped on the door. “Building maintenance.”

No response.

She knocked again. “We are having a problem with the gas lines; I have to
come in and check each apartment.”

Nobody stirred inside. “This is a mandatory check. I’m using the master key
to come in,” she gave another warning then pushed the key she’d gotten from the
super into the lock.

The man had been more than accommodating. He didn’t like the idea of a wanted
criminal hiding out in his complex, and saw the wisdom in having two bounty
hunters taking care of his problem as opposed to the FBI swarming the building
and shooting everything up.

“I’m coming in.” Mia pushed the door open, gun in hand, went in low, and
stepped to the side. The living room was empty. She shoved another door open and
found three cats lounging in a small bathroom. She closed the door on them and
moved toward the bedroom, caught the slightest of sounds and froze.

“Don’t shoot,” Cameron said before he opened the door and walked out.

“Where are they?”

She scanned the apartment, zeroed in on the broom closet the same time as he
did. The folding door was partially open.

They moved into position without a single word, each understanding what had
to be done next.

“Come out with your hands in the air,” she said in her best ass-kicking
voice.

She didn’t expect the man to come out meekly, immediately, but she hadn’t
expected him to be shooting through the door, kicking his way out, either. Mia
dropped and rolled behind the couch for cover.

Fowler had a bloody semiautomatic.

Wood splinters flew over her head. “Put your gun down! Put your gun down!”

Fowler was directly between her and Cameron, so neither of them could shoot
for fear of hitting the other. The man summed up the situation quickly, went for
Cameron, probably figuring him the more dangerous enemy. She dove for Fowler’s
back the second it was turned; put everything she had into bringing him down.

“Get the hell away from him,” Cameron was shouting.

“I got him.” She grunted as the man heaved, trying to fling her off.

“Get off him, bitch.” Jenny made her way out of the closet finally, and damn
it all, she was armed, too.

The momentary distraction was all Fowler needed. His hand sneaked around and
caught Mia around the neck, brought her down. In the next second, his
semiautomatic was at her temple.

“Drop it,” Fowler said, victory flashing in his black eyes.

Cameron wanted to blow the asshole away more than he’d ever wanted anything
in his life; wanted to watch him go down, wanted to be the one to pull the
trigger. Instead, he tossed his gun without hesitation. The bastard had Mia.
Damn it, he should have never gotten her into this. Fowler was too dangerous and
unpredictable.

“Come on, Jenny.” Cameron turned his attention to the woman, hoping he might
find a weakness there. “He’s just using you. They talked you into this —
recruited you, brainwashed you. You don’t have to go down with him.” He moved
forward slowly, bending, getting into position for a jump. Another few feet and
he could lunge, another second and Fowler’s neck would be snapped.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Jenny said and shot at him.

As he dove for the floor, he could see Fowler pulling the trigger, too.

His heart stopped.

Mia.

But she’d been on her guard, throwing her bodyweight forward. She didn’t
quite get away from the man, but shifted her position enough so that Fowler had
missed.

In the next second Cameron was there, grabbing her, pushing her to safety as
bullets flew around them. Then he had his gun back and returned fire.

Too late. Fowler was out the door, Jenny close behind him, running up the
staircase.

He went after them taking the stairs two at a time, and could hear Mia
follow. Fowler and Jenny weren’t far ahead of him, just a turn, always a turn,
so he couldn’t get a good aim.

A door banged open somewhere ahead, then a second later he saw it — the roof.

He came out of the staircase fast, dove straight for the cover of a chimney
stack as bullets buzzed by him.

“Stay down,” he shouted at Mia as she reached the top of the stairs.

Of course, she didn’t listen.

The gunfire stopped. What was Fowler planning now?

“Cover me,” Mia called, matter-of-factly, just as Bullseye or Martin would
have said it.

Like hell. “You cover me.” He pushed away from the chimney before she had
time to argue.

Footsteps slammed on metal somewhere.

Cameron hesitated as he took in the roof, his vision blocked by other
staircase entries, chimneys and vent stacks. “Where is he?”

“Fire escape.” Mia was passing him already, running to the side.

He caught up with her, looked over the edge with caution. The bastard was
halfway down. He aimed his gun, swore, then lowered it. The sidewalk was full of
pedestrians below him. Fowler and Jenny were moving fast, skipping steps. If the
bullet missed —

He swore again, vaulted over the edge and tore after them. Fowler glanced
back, pulled his gun from his shirt and squeezed off a couple of rounds. Cameron
turned and stepped in front of Mia to block. The bastard kept the bullets
coming, but thankfully running was throwing off his aim. Man, he was moving
fast.