Morgan's Son (23 page)

Just as they reached the outskirts of Lahaina, she heard him suck in a breath of air. She twisted to look in his direction. Too late! Sabra's eyes widened enormously as she saw a car race up beside them on the four-lane highway. As it deliberately swerved toward them, she clung to the door handle and tried to brace herself for the coming impact. The first attack had been no accident! Fear shot through her. All she could do was watch through horrified eyes.

Craig yanked the steering wheel to the right. Fortunately, traffic was light, and he took the car onto the sidewalk, where it groaned and clunked, one set of wheels higher than the other. Glass shattered around them. The other car was firing at them!

"Get down!" Craig roared, wrenching the wheel to the left. The light had just turned red, but if he braked, they were dead. He heard the
ping-ping-ping
of submachine-gun bullets stitching along the side of the car. More glass shattered inward. Hunching over, he jammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the car leapt through the light. The speedometer needle rose rapidly to fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour. He wove between the few cars, jerking a look into the rearview mirror. Were they following? He had to assume they were.

Luckily, it was night, which made them harder to tail—unless a bug had been attached to their car so they could follow it by remote control. His head spun with options. He risked a quick look at Sabra. She had bent down, her hands covering her head.

"Sabra?"

"I—I'm okay. You?"

Craig said raggedly, "I'm okay."

She sat up and twisted to look out the shattered rear window. Her breath was coming in ragged gulps. Bits of glass tumbled out of her hair and down her front as she turned back to face the road. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. She looked over at Craig. His profile was hard and set, and sweat stood out on his face, gleaming in the oncoming headlights.

"What are we going to do?"

"They're on to us. Whoever they are," he rasped. Slamming on the brakes, he turned the car down a darkened side street to the right. Flicking off the headlights, he guided it down the rutted, dirt road in near blackness. Houses flashed by on either side of them. Ahead, he spotted another small road, and steered the car onto it.

"See anything?" he demanded.

"No," Sabra said, watching out the rear window. "Nothing."

"We've got to ditch this car."

"Yes."

Savagely, he jerked the steering wheel, aiming the vehicle down another meandering lane with very few homes along it. Pulling into a grassy area off the road, he left the keys in the car and climbed out.

"Come on," he ordered, hurrying to the trunk.

The night air was cool and still. Craig's hands shook as he pulled the trunk open and grabbed the canvas bag. He felt more than saw Sabra reach his side as he hefted it over his shoulder.

"Where—"

"Let's get away from the car," he said raggedly. Grabbing her arm, he said, "This way." He led them up a grassy knoll toward a stand of darkened trees at the top—probably eucalyptus. Right now, he wanted good, thick cover. If those were Garcia's henchmen, they'd certainly have night goggles or infrared scopes on their weapons that detected body heat. If necessary, he and Sabra could dig shallow holes, cover themselves with dried leaves and wait it out.

Sabra dug her toes into the damp, moist earth of the hillside. She felt dizzy, but shook it off, trying to keep up with Craig. The hill was steeper than she'd thought, and by the time they'd scaled it, she was breathing hard from the exertion. Following Craig into the heart of the eucalyptus grove, she looked back, but could see no one coming down the road toward where they'd left the car.

"Over here," Craig called. He gently placed the canvas bag on the ground and with his hands raked up a bunch of leaves to hide it. "Get down and start digging a shallow grave to lie in."

Sabra nodded and fell to her knees. Her fingers felt numb; her head ached. She dug quickly, finding the soil loose.

"Do you think—"

"I'm assuming they've got night goggles," he rasped, rapidly digging his own shallow trench. "Maybe infrared. We're going to have to wait them out. We can't talk, either. They may have sensing equipment that can pick us up a mile away."

Sabra steadied herself and nodded. "I'm going belly down in my grave. Cover me?"

Craig leaned over and quickly placed dirt and leaves across her legs, back and shoulders. "I'll be close by. If you see anything, just nudge me lightly with your foot. I'll do the same. I don't know how long we'll have to stay here."

Already shivering in the damp ground, Sabra said nothing. Craig had dug his trench close enough to her that if she stretched out her right foot, her toe could make contact with his arm. Trying to steady her breathing, she studied the streets below. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. She could see the lights of Lahaina not far away, the main shopping area that was lit up in carnival-like colors.

Craig was covering himself the best he could. Night goggles allowed a person to see into the night as if it were daylight, magnifying whatever light was there, so that everything looked light green or yellow. If Garcia's men had body-heat detectors, they could find them even if they missed them with the night goggles—providing Craig and Sabra were above ground or moving around. If they remained silent, they had a chance of surviving.

His mind whirled with questions. What had given them away? Had they somehow compromised themselves by their position on the hill earlier today? A bug in their suite? Was there a leak in the police department? Had the detective, Chung, given information to Garcia, acting as a paid informant and mole? Craig didn't want to think that. Sam Chung didn't seem the type. But how had Garcia found them?

He ticked off the possibilities, among them that someone at the hotel could have become suspicious. But how? Their cover was intact, as far as he was concerned. Someone in the airline watching for flights out of D.C. to
Hawaii
? That was possible, but not high on his list. No, Garcia's guards must have spotted them earlier today. Damn!

His mouth grew dry as he saw a vehicle make the turn off the main highway and take the same dirt road they had. It was moving deliberately, as if searching for something—or someone. He felt Sabra nudge his arm with her toe. She'd seen it, too. At least they were armed; but Craig didn't want a shoot-out. He frowned, squinting as he watched the car crawl up the road. Its headlights stabbed through the darkness, and it slowly turned onto the smaller road where he'd parked their
Toyota
.

To his surprise, he saw the lights of a police cruiser suddenly switch on. It was the cops! Watching warily, Craig saw the vehicle pull over next to their car. He felt Sabra nudge him strongly. Could they trust the police? Should they go down and tell them what had happened? Sweat trickled down his temples as he watched. But how did the cops know about this? How could they possibly know he and Sabra had parked there? Perhaps someone in the sparsely populated neighborhood had called the police because the two of them had been tearing around at high speeds on back roads late at night. There were so many possibilities. But right now, Craig instinctively mistrusted the police.

Anxiously, he watched as two uniformed policemen got out of the cruiser, their flashlights on, and started investigating the bullet-ridden car. They were too far away to hear their voices, but from time to time he could pick up snatches from the police radio in the cruiser. He felt Sabra move. No! Risking everything, he slowly reached out and wrapped his hand around her slender ankle. Giving her flesh a long, slow squeeze, he tried to impress on her that it was vital not to get up, not to move. Would she remain still?

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt the tension in her leg dissolve beneath his hand. Good. She was going to stay put as he had silently requested. Slipping his fingers from her ankle, he brought his hand carefully back against his side. Chances were the cops would check out the car, then call a wrecker to impound it. Releasing a slow breath, Craig knew they had at least another hour of hiding in store before they could escape.

Sabra tried to stop her teeth from chattering. The wrecker and police cruiser had come and gone. Their car had been hauled away. The road was again clear of any traffic. Her head ached, and she felt the muscles of her legs drawing up from the dampness, wanting to cramp. Just when she thought she could take it no longer, she heard Craig slowly rise from his trench. Leaves fell around her, then she felt his hands upon her body, brushing the leaves off of her. Slowly, she turned over and sat up.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand to her.

She gripped it and felt herself being pulled upward. Dizziness assailed her, and Sabra felt herself falling forward. Before she could cry out, Craig's strong arms wrapped around her and brought her against him. Without a word, she sank into him, her head hurting so much she couldn't speak for a moment. Instead, Sabra placed her arms around his shoulders and allowed herself the momentary luxury of resting against his strong reassuring bulk. How could he feel so warm? Right now, she was cramping and shivering, her teeth chattering.

Craig groaned softly and held Sabra tightly against him. She'd flowed against him like sunlight. He was surprised at how strong and supple she felt beneath his hands. She was shivering, and he realized she was very cold. Beginning to rub her back briskly with his hand, he rasped, "Just lean on me. I'll get you warmed up in a minute."

Sabra closed her eyes and surrendered to Craig. No longer did she try and fight what her heart wanted. She felt the slow, powerful beat of his heart against her breasts, felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek and the side of her neck as he ran his hands firmly up and down her back, encouraging her circulation. A soft smile touched her lips as she nestled her head against him. How wrong she'd been about Craig. If anything, he'd acted far more professionally in this crisis than she might have. Knowing that made her trust him even more. His hand felt good, and she automatically tightened her arms around his neck, steadying herself against him.

Craig forced himself not to pay too much attention to Sabra's nearness. It was close to impossible, though their circumstances were precarious at best. A few minutes later he felt her stop shivering and gently eased her away from him, enough to look down into her dark, shadowed eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the dried blood along her right temple, where she'd struck her head earlier. Not only that, but he saw tiny nicks on her neck and shoulder where the exploding glass had cut into her beautiful skin.

"We need to get help," Sabra said in a low voice. She was glad Craig didn't let her go. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kept her leaning against him.

"First, we need a room somewhere." He pointed to Lahaina below. "There are a lot of motels along the main road. We need a room for the night."

Sabra nodded. "We can't go back to the Westin. They're probably waiting for us there."

He frowned and nodded. "We can't trust anyone, Sabra," he warned. "Not even the police."

"I know," she said sadly, searching his dark, hard features. "We need to get to a pay phone, something they can't trace, and alert Perseus."

"First things first," he rasped, leading her to where he'd hidden the canvas bag. "Let's get a room, and I'll make the call. You can wash up, get some sleep, and we'll figure out what our next move will be."

Sabra moved away from Craig as he leaned down to pick up the bag. Her knees felt wobbly. She and Craig had almost died. The rush of adrenaline had long since left her. Now, she felt weak and shaky, and she wanted to cry. She knew the reaction was a normal one for her. She saw Craig hold out his hand toward her.

"Come on," he entreated softly. He saw the surprise in her eyes and managed a twisted smile. "Whether you like it or not, we're hip deep in trouble. All we have is each other right now."

Sabra lifted her hand and slid it into his. Amazingly, Craig seemed to be unaffected by the chaos and danger of the last few hours. He must be hiding his feelings, she thought, as they carefully made their way down the slope. Right now, they had to remain alert for any possible complications. Garcia's henchmen could still be around. The cops might be looking for them.