Matt Drake 11 - The Ghost Ships of Arizona (25 page)

Alicia stalked him, her face twisted with memories, her eyes wild and crazy. Drake was under no illusions that survival meant weathering this particular personal storm.

“Come home, Alicia.” He simply spoke the words in his heart. “Stop running.”

His words stopped her, brought a smoothness to her features. But terrible memories are like deep wounds, deep loss, they never truly repair, and they struck back now, sending Alicia into even deeper despair. She punched and kicked Drake, exploring his defenses and then getting around them, injuring his knee and smashing a tooth so hard that it fell to the sand—more blood staining the ground. Alicia stared at it as though she were staring her dead father right in the eyes once more—something she had never managed to do.

“This is all we should be,” she said in a damaged voice. “Blood and bone, teeth and flesh. Not memory and feeling and opinion. I don’t want that.”

“Then accept it,” Drake said harshly. “You lived it. You lived
through
it. Accept that one of the worst enemies you have ever discovered was your own father. It’s better to mold that memory into fire and grist and desire and purpose than to try to ignore it. Better to accept and
live.
Every day.”

Alicia looked spent, consumed, but that didn’t stop her unleashing a violent attack. She slammed his shoulder against the brick wall at his back. The wall wavered and then collapsed, sending up a plume of mortar. Alicia was on him, bearing down hard amidst the tumbling bricks. They rolled, striking another wall, which also crumpled under their combined weight. They bowled through the rubble. Drake regained his footing, grabbed Alicia and threw her against an outer wall. The entire structure wobbled. Drake then tried to pull her to safety, but she pushed him away.

“C’mon, tough guy,” she said harshly. “Fight me if you can.”

And then he saw it. Finally, he saw it. Crap, he was slow but she was projecting the memory of her father onto him for the duration of this fight, this explosion, and he was fighting back. Not good. Against all of his instincts he realized he had to let her win.

“You think you’re good enough,” he said. “Prove it.”

She came like a devil, a whirlwind. Fists struck him left and right and on top of the head, jarring his skull bones and bruising his cheeks no end. A knee caught him in the stomach and he was down on his knees. Gripping his shoulders she threw him against the outer wall and it disintegrated all around him, bricks and mortar raining down and bouncing off his shoulders. Still, he knelt there, moaning. Alicia boxed the side of his head, and he collapsed. She stomped at his ribs, making him wheeze. A hand was the only thing holding him up and then she stepped hard on the fingers.

Drake was down among the sand and rubble of the collapsed shelter. Alicia grasped the edges of the last remaining wall, heaved, and pulled it so that it fell on top of him. Blood splashed across his vision. Stars shone like a frenetic Milky Way. Blackness enshrouded all that he knew and saw.

“Die.” He heard the familiar voice only a millimeter from his face. “I never got to see you die and I’ve been running ever since. Are you still in there?”

Drake remained silent and swam with the darkness. Then he felt Alicia pulling him out from under the wreckage.

“You don’t die that easily, bastard.”

A boot to the groin sent him backward against the sharp slope of the valley where he stayed, barely able to stand.

“Open your eyes.”

He felt no surprise to see the pistol leveled at his throat.

“Say your last prayer.”

“In the end . . .” he managed to croak. “I want you to take your future by the fucking balls and live it, Alicia. Live it while you still have time.”

Her eyes widened, the tangle of lines across her forehead eased. He knew that he had gotten through, but only as the figure of her nightmare vision. He also knew that it wouldn’t save his life.

The gunshot filled his brain.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Drake felt blood on his cheek, across his chin. The impact had been close enough to his right ear to render a temporary deafness. As he opened his eyes he saw that Alicia had averted the barrel beyond the very last instant, unable to move it more than a few millimeters. The slug had seared his temple.

“Fuck me.”

“Stay there. I’m not done with you yet.” Alicia’s voice was as hard and lethal as the weapon she held. Drake experienced a sudden bone-deep fear.
Did she just miss?

He had more work to do. “Inside, you know it’s over. Done. You know now that there
is
a way to move on.”

That stopped her cold. “There is?” He could see the conflict within her. “Well, maybe. What do you mean?”

“Drake,” he said, holding out his arms as best he could. “Matt Drake.”

“Wha . . . ?” Alicia focused for the very first time, eyes upon the present rather than encrusted with the past. “What are you saying?”

“You want me to spell it out? Then fight me first.”

He took the gamble of his life and came at her slowly, swatting the pistol aside and then ducking so that he could lift her free of the ground. She struggled, but only lightly. The raw fury, along with much of her energy, had been depleted. Drake hefted her, dropped a shoulder and deposited her as gently as possible onto her back, amongst the sand and rubble. Alicia could certainly take it.

“It’s time to move on for good. And by that I mean
stop.
No more running, no more looking for the next adventure. It’s time to live in the present and embrace all it has to offer.”

Alicia sighed, struggling now but barely able to move. Drake sank down onto her legs as she managed to flip over onto her stomach, and a smile broke free through the blood and grime that coated his face.

“Now we live our lives,” he said. “We live them together. You don’t forget your past, Alicia, you accept that it happened and build a better future.”

Alicia struggled, but gently. Drake finally laughed and reached forward. He tapped out a rock tune on her ass and thighs to help lighten the mood. Alicia managed to lift her head.

“Quit that.”

“Why? It is turning you on?”

“No. I can’t guess the bloody tune.”

Drake enjoyed himself some more. “
Smoke on the Water
, silly.”

“I think I’d prefer
Paranoid
. More rhythm.”

“Oh? Well, we’ll try that later.” Drake turned serious and climbed off, careful to completely ignore all the hurts that ransacked his body. Still wary, he eyed his oldest friend.

“Still wanna kill me?”

Alicia too pulled herself up, breathing carefully to restore strength and equilibrium. “Maybe later.”

“Have we resolved anything here?”

Alicia allowed herself a smile. “Obviously, it’s not quite that easy. It’s gonna be a long hard road. But I had to do this, Drake. I
had
to. It’s a start. Do you understand?”

He did. “Been a long time coming,” he said. “But it’s pure Alicia Myles. You were self-destructing the other way and you knew it. I’m happy you chose me to . . . help.”

“Who else could it be?”

“Russo?” he said. “Beauregard?”

“Russo’s a good man,” she admitted. “A solid man. I could have chosen him and, if he survived, we’d be better than ever. But Beau? Nah, he’s just a goal. Every woman deserves twelve inches at least once in her life.”

Drake winced. “Please don’t ever say that again. It hurts more than the broken tooth.”

“You know something.” Alicia cocked her head. “I know we have a battle to get back to. A tough motherfucker, if I’m being totally honest, but for the first time in almost twenty years I feel like I’m not going to die soon.”

Drake eyed the slope that would take them back to harm’s way and hoped she hadn’t just jinxed their future. “First of all,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get outta this hole. Here . . .” He held out a blood-streaked hand.

Alicia Myles took it.

CHAPTER FORTY

Lauren Fox watched the battle unfold from atop a small sand dune to the east of the valley that held the long lost galleon. She used field-glasses to keep up with the action, saw the onslaught of the helicopters and the SPEAR team’s breakneck run around the valley’s crumbling ridge. She saw the fifth chopper come down, the fireballs that surrounded it, and the pitched battle between army, marines and mercs. The point where Drake joined.

And then the sand hit. The storm swirled all around and consumed her entire world.

Jenny lay at her side. “Now that’s a bitch.”

Lauren stared. “Who’s watching Bell?”

“Karin. Why? Don’t you trust her?”

“Karin’s . . . delicate.” Lauren hated herself for the choice of words. If anyone referred to
her
as delicate she’d do a great job of making them eat their teeth. “We shouldn’t leave her alone.”

“Well, that dude, Bell, he’s no threat. A fried chicken could take him out.”

Lauren took a last look around, then dipped her eyes against a flurry of sand particles. Quickly, she slithered back down the slope, a matter of only six feet. The Pythian, Nicholas Bell, sat with his head in his hands, obviously wishing he were anyplace but here. Lauren, still harboring a soft spot for the wealthy builder, walked over to him.

“You did the right thing,” she said. “Trust me. It will work out.”

Bell regarded her with a strained smile. “Just stay with me,” he said. “Without you, I’m not sure I can do this.”

Lauren hid a grimace, worried now what Smyth would think. The soldier had been wonderful to her, everything a real man should be. Maybe they would even try dating when they found a little downtime. But Smyth—like any man—was a fragile piece of kit and prone to jealousy. Smyth also knew that Bell had bedded Lauren as Nightshade not so long ago.

Shit. What a mess.

She walked over to Karin. “The world’s a mess up there, a battleground. I don’t see what else we can do.”

Karin managed a weak smile. “We wait. Our friends will come back. Don’t they always?”

Lauren heard the bitter tones inherent in Karin’s words. She walked away, unsure how she could help. As she approached Jenny she saw the other woman stiffen.

“Behind you.”

Then a deep voice: “Don’t fucking move a muscle.”

Lauren turned anyway, inbuilt instinct always defiant. Two mercenaries stood facing them, wearing black and toting the usual machine pistols. Both men looked tired.

“That Bell?” one of them asked the other.

“Yeah.” The other consulted a tattered photograph. “Thank fuck. We’ve been searching for your ass for twenty hours, dude.”

Nicholas Bell looked like a rabbit caught in the spotlight. “Searching? What do you mean?”

Lauren realized that these men hadn’t been sent out recently and might not know about the huge extent of the battle above. They had been out searching for the lost Pythian, it seemed.

The second mercenary waved his weapon at Bell. “We’re here to rescue you, dumbass. They kidnapped you, right? Well, they sent the best out to save you.”

His partner tapped him on the shoulder. “Probably not wise to call one of the bosses a dumbass, dumbass.”

The first merc shrugged. “Sorry, boss.”

Bell gaped between them. “You’re the best? And how . . . how did you find me?”

“What, ya think the big boss don’t have a tracker on you? Ha! And when I say
on
you I do mean
in
you
.
Get it? Probably artificially extended your sleep one night and made a doc perform a small op. Ever wake up feeling extra sluggish? No reason why? Maybe feel hungover even though you only had one glass of wine? The government does it all the time, so they say. Happens regular.”

“Shit,” Bell, Karin and Jenny said together.

“Yeah.” The man shrugged. “Every time I wake with a weird feeling I hop on over to the bathroom and check every inch of my body. Just in case.” He grinned.

Jenny shared a look with Lauren. “Yuck.”

The man hardened. “Well, Bell? Get over here then, or do ya like hangin’ with the dead girlies?”

“Dead girlies?” the other asked.

Girlies?
Lauren bristled and she knew Jenny felt the same.

“Shoot ‘em, bud. And, Troy, follow fucking orders like yer s’posed to.”

Isolated, unguarded, Karin, Lauren and Jenny all knew they were fending for themselves. They were not soldiers, or warriors. They weren’t even trained. But they had certainly seen action and could guess how the next few minutes would play out.

Karin acted first, perhaps thinking about her future at Fort Bragg. She darted from a sitting position, surprising Troy and making him stagger away. Lauren came next, stiff-arming Troy as she came across him, jerking his head sideways. Jenny was closest to the leader and jumped behind Bell for a split second before ducking around his other side. The leader tried to track her with his gun but the weapon was too large. Jenny was on him in a second, grappling, gritting her teeth and panting hard.

Lauren kicked at knee, groin and stomach, remembering her civilian martial arts training. The soldier looked surprised, even staggered a little when she blasted his knee. Karin tried the same from the other side, giving him an awful lot to think about. His weapon wavered between them.

Lauren picked up a rock and slammed it across his temple, wincing as she did so. Troy stumbled, his gun discharging. He threw all his weight onto her but she smashed the rock down again. Karin punched his arm until the gun clattered away, then gave him multiple blows to the face. Troy spat blood and punched blindly, trying to regain the advantage. A fist connected with Lauren’s nose, making her eyes water. She gasped, trying to fend even more blows away. Karin caught one of Troy’s wrists in her hand, held it, and then slammed a rock straight down onto the knuckles. A sickening crack resounded around the clearing.