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Authors: Iris Johansen

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BOOK: Sleep No More
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“I’d think that the proposition was intensely personal. At least to me.” He tilted his head. “And I believe you and Eve have already discussed this. Why bring it up again?”

“I told you not to jump to conclusions.” She made a dismissing gesture. “I gave that idea up when it seemed to disturb her. I just thought it would save me time and trouble. From what I remember, everyone said most guys don’t care who they screw.”

“I’m not most guys,” he said. “So what is this favor?”

“I want you to tell me about Eve,” she said. “I want to know everything about her. I figure that you’d know more than anyone else since you’re lovers.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“She wouldn’t tell me everything. There are things she wouldn’t consider important. A person looking from a distance sees a different picture.” She paused, then said haltingly, “I’ve never had a family. Rick is more my friend than family. I kept telling myself when I was growing up that I didn’t need anyone but myself. That I’d be just fine as long as I worked hard and made sure I was the best at everything.”

“Everyone likes a winner?” Joe quoted her words.

“Yeah, but I’m beginning to feel … different. If I was wrong, then Eve could be important to me. I don’t want to blow it. She’s not like me, whose life just stopped. She’s been out in the world.” She stopped, thinking about it. “And I think she’s been hurt and has scars. I don’t want to open wounds. She’d hate me.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Joe smiled. “But I’m surprised you’ve been able to sense that about her. Very perceptive, Beth.”

“Not really. I keep stumbling and making mistakes, but I believe I’m not wrong about Eve. Maybe there’s something about that family-bond thing.” She looked him directly in the eye. “So will you help me, Joe?”

He studied her for a long moment. “As long as you don’t demand any intimate details. I’m not comfortable about your idea of what’s personal.”

She gave a sigh of relief. “Okay, that would probably make me embarrassed anyway. It always did when my schoolmates described their sex with guys. I always wondered if some of the things they did weren’t made up. They would have had to be acrobats.”

“At that age, acrobatics are entirely possible. It gets more refined and satisfactory with time. Is that all? May I go now?”

She shook her head. “Billy. I didn’t know he was a Marine. I don’t really know anything about him. It was always all about me.”

“You were the prime objective. I’m certain Newell wasn’t offended.”

“But I should have asked. He made me talk about my life before I came to the hospital, and I never asked him any questions. How selfish could I be? He got me off those drugs. He saved my life, Joe.”

“There’s a good chance that’s true. But if you want to know all about Newell, you may have to ask him yourself. I can only give you the bare bones, and I think some of his dossier was probably doctored to keep Pierce from knowing that he was being investigated.”

“Then give me the bare bones. I’ll work it out from there.” She paused. “And I want to know about you, too, Joe. You’re important to Eve.” She frowned. “That didn’t sound right. It’s not that you’re not important in your own right. You seem to be a very formidable—”

“Enough.” He made a face. “I’m getting out of here before you add anyone else to the list.”

“I don’t know anyone else.”

“You did it again. You managed to disarm me just when I was becoming pissed off at you.” He started across the courtyard. “Go back to the library. I’ll face your interrogation after I expend some energy trying to track Drogan.”

Beth watched until he disappeared into the trees to the side of the courtyard before shutting the door. He was moving swiftly, and there was a sleek litheness to his carriage, a leashed eagerness.

A man on the hunt. No fear. No hesitation. He couldn’t wait to track down Drogan. He was a police detective, but there was no cool, analytical demeanor. She suddenly shivered as she realized that he appeared more deadly and dangerous than Drogan. She was learning more about him by watching him during these moments than she probably would by anything he would tell her. He would be like Eve and not be able or willing to share the view from the horizon. She would just have to put the pieces together and figure out how she could deal with them.

But that instant when she’d realized how dangerous Joe Quinn could be had disconcerted her. If he was deadly toward Drogan, could he also be a threat to Eve? How did Beth know who was bad or good? She had almost no practical experience, and there were so many dangers in this world.

She closed the door of the library and tucked herself in the leather chair in which Billy had been sitting. Her hand instinctively went to clasp the gold key at her throat. It always made her feel safe when she was most scared and confused. Rick had given the necklace to her on her sixteenth birthday and told her that she should wear it forever to remind her that he loved her.

She had been surprised that she’d still had it around her neck after the years on the sedatives. During the last few months, when she’d been totally drug-free, she’d noticed the nurses carefully put it back on her after they bathed her. Rick must have told them to do it. Which only proved that he still cared for her and had nothing to do with Pierce or that horrible Stella woman who had sometimes taken care of her.

But Eve and Joe had both been suspicious of Rick.

Forget it. Beth knew the truth about him. She would just have to explain and convince them of their mistake. Rick was the one good thing in that old life she could not do without. She had many changes she wanted to make in the way she lived her life. She wanted to reach out, instead of closing herself away from people.

She wanted to reach out to Eve.

One step at a time.

For the moment, she would sit there and wait for Joe Quinn to tell her how she could begin those steps.

*   *   *

DROGAN HAD BEEN IN THESE TREES.

Joe’s hunch about Drogan’s being in the long driveway of the house next door to the Tudor had paid off.

Joe knelt and shined his flashlight on the prints in the earth. One knee indentation, one foot bracing. Drogan had been kneeling there.

He would have had a good view of the courtyard from that spot.

Was he still around?

No car was parked in the trees. If there had been one there, he’d moved it.

Where?

Find out.

Fifteen minutes later, Joe found the car in the driveway of the third estate around the curve of the road. A red Lamborghini was in the driveway, but in the trees to the left was parked a tan Toyota rental car with plates from a dealer in Santa Barbara.

He glided forward. No one in the driver’s seat. Get inside the car and see if he could find any papers or evidence that would link—

The red Lamborghini roared to life and was barreling toward him!

A bullet creased Joe’s cheek, and the car clipped his hip as he jumped to the side.

Pain.

Ignore it. He drew his .38 and fired off a shot that smashed the sports car’s side mirror and ricocheted to hit Drogan’s hand on the steering wheel.

Joe heard a spate of curses, then a bullet struck the ground next to him. He rolled to the passenger side behind the protection of the Toyota.

But Drogan had already reached the road, and the sports car was screeching around the bend.

And the lights were coming on in the house behind him, dammit. The last thing Joe needed was to be found on the property and accused of being a car thief.

He got to his feet and limped into the trees. It wasn’t likely that they’d be searching for the man who had stolen that Lamborghini to be on foot. But he had to get back to the house before there was an uproar in the neighborhood. The owners would report the theft to the police, and they’d be out to intercept Drogan.

But Drogan wouldn’t risk being picked up. He’d abandon that car as soon as he could, and he no longer had his own rental to fall back on. Joe had come close to nailing the bastard, and he was mad as hell he’d blown it. But there were a few good results from a lousy evening. Drogan had a bullet in his hand, no car, and was in no position to go after Beth Avery at the moment.

And he’d bet that Drogan was going to be even more angry than Joe as he tried desperately to get away and cover his tracks.

*   *   *

HE WAS GOING TO
KILL
QUINN.

Drogan clutched the steering wheel while he tried to wrap his handkerchief around his bloody thumb with the other. He’d probably lose the thumb if he couldn’t get to a doctor in time. His teeth clenched as he tied the handkerchief above the wound.

Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.

He had to get out of this car.

He couldn’t risk driving it any longer. This was a high-security area, and Highway Patrol would be breathing down his neck within minutes. The Lamborghini would be as noticeable as a flashing red light.

Get rid of the car.

Find some schmuck and force him to take him to a doctor.

Then find a way to get back here before Quinn took off with Beth Avery.

And find the most painful way on the face of the earth to kill the bastard. Destroy everything and everyone he cared about before his eyes, then take his time killing Quinn himself. Before it had been just a question of eliminating a cop who had gotten in his way, annoying but not particularly important.

But now it was very important. Now it was almost as important as killing Beth Avery.

And the woman who had been with Quinn at the house? He’d taken a photo of her earlier in the evening and been going to transmit it to Pierce for him to attempt an ID.

Do you sleep with her, Quinn?

Too bad. You’d better get used to sleeping alone for the little time you have left.

 

CHAPTER

12

BETH STRAIGHTENED UP IN HER CHAIR
as Joe came into the library. “What happened to you?”

“Drogan.” He limped toward the TV and turned on the news station. “It’s the second time I screwed up and let him get away. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“You’re not perfect?” She glanced at the TV. “What are you trying to watch?”

“Drogan made off with a red Lamborghini. There’s bound to be a pursuit by the local police.” He began channel flipping. “With all these twenty-four/seven news stations, one of them should be covering it.” He leaned closer to the set. “There!”

He was looking at the shot of a red Lamborghini parked in the driveway of a substantial brick home. There was a crowd of police and media personnel swarming around it.

“Abandoned?” Beth asked.

“Yes, and it was out of Seventeen Mile Drive. That may be good for us.”

“How?”

“The search won’t be as extensive in this area.”

“There will be a search?”

“You bet your life. This area is pure money and political pull. They take care of their own.” He glanced at the location where the sports car had been found and typed it into his phone. “But they’ll grab the rental car that he left a few houses around the bend and check this area, too. Which means that we can’t move too soon. There will be an alert out and probably media on every corner for a night or two.”

“Will they search this house?”

“Not unless they think they have a reason. This house is supposed to be vacant and has a security guard checking it periodically. If we stay inside and keep a low profile, we’ll probably be okay until it’s safe to leave. In the meantime, I’ll locate another safe house for you.” He added grimly, “And do a little more-in-depth study about Drogan and the Averys.”

“Should we wake Eve and Billy?”

“Not until we have to. What good would it do? I ran upstairs and checked on her, and Eve had managed to drift off.”

“I’d want to know what was happening.”

“And so will Eve. But she can find out after she gets a little rest.” He frowned. “But Eve has my computer.”

“There’s one over there on the desk. Can you use it?”

He nodded. “I’d rather have my own, but I have the thumb drive.” He moved across the room and sat down at the desk. “If you’re going to curl up on that couch and go to sleep, do it. I can see by the screen, and I’m turning out the light.”

“Why? I told you that you can’t see through those drapes.”

“I’m not taking a chance. There will be intense, not casual scrutiny.” He took out the thumb drive. “But I want to get as much information as I can while we’re having to wait to get moving. I have an idea that Drogan is going to be moving at full speed from now on. I glimpsed his face after I put a bullet in his hand.”

“A bullet? You didn’t mention you shot him.” She was looking at the red streak on his cheek. “Was that caused by a bullet?”

“Yes.” He inserted the thumb drive. “And I only shot him, I didn’t kill him.”

“So it wasn’t worthwhile telling anyone. It wasn’t important.”

“It was important. It had the same effect as waving a red cape at a bull. And I didn’t follow through and put the bastard down.”

Violence, she thought with a shudder. Bullets and rage and Joe Quinn ready and willing to kill a man because he’d become involved in this hideous nightmare in which she’d become entangled.

“It’s too late, Beth,” Joe said quietly. He had looked up and seen her expression. “The game’s begun, and we all have to play by the rules.”

“I don’t understand games like this. But you like them, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “There’s a certain amount of excitement involved. I admit to having a few savage impulses. In time, you might discover you have a few yourself. You’re intensely competitive, and that’s a likely sign.” He smiled. “And you pulled a gun on Eve and Newell.”

“And it scared me to death.”

“The fear will go away, but the power remains. How do you feel right now? Are you angry with me?”

She was silent a moment. “I have no right to be angry. You could have been killed because of me. I should be grateful.”

“And are you?”

She was silent again. “Yes, but I don’t want you to do it again. I’d feel guilty that—”

BOOK: Sleep No More
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