Wanna Play (Ghost Unit, Book Three) (10 page)

“We’re only hitting the tops of the ruts in the road, woman. Any faster and we would need bat wings. And it’s a compliment that I can’t stop looking at you.”

He frowned at the winding two-lane road. “You’re the star. Don’t you have someone to do this sort of thing for you? An assistant or something?”

Jas glanced back but only the cloud of dust was visible behind them. “When I’m a star, I’ll get one of those. Right now I’m just an actress. My boyfriend is the only one who fetches for me.” Jas smiled smugly at Blaster’s raised brow.

“Yeah? Your boyfriend?” A slow grin spread across his face.

They pulled into the motel and Jas sprinted to her door. She was coming out with the bag of laundry and box of soap before Blaster could make it in.

“Hey. I’m the damn boyfriend. Let me do my job,” he grumbled, and took both items out of her hands to deposit them in the truck bed. “And from now on I go in the room first. Just because it was a quiet day doesn’t mean your new friends are gone.”

“You’re Mississippi-mud slow, Huckleberry. I’ll get old waiting for you.” Jas swung into the cab.

“I’m careful. You have no idea what’s out of place in the parking lot, do you?” Blaster backed out of the parking space and headed out again.

Jas didn’t even glance around. “Three cars are missing and there’s a new Blazer at the office.”

“Okay, so you do know. Well,” he paused to look both ways before pulling onto the town’s main street, “I also like watching you bounce around.”

“I don’t bounce. I stride.” Her superior sniff made him laugh.

Pulling into the Whyrl and Wash parking lot, Blaster started cursing under his breath. The only other vehicle in the lot as a huge black Harley Dyna motorcycle. Blaster glared at it as he parked.

Jas eyed the cursing man beside her. “A problem?” Her head cocked toward the bike.

“Yeah,” Blaster muttered.

“Something you wanna share before we go in there, Huck?”

Blaster shut off the engine and didn’t move for a moment as he frowned at the bike. “I should have run over it.”

Jas looked at him for a few more seconds then snorted, “I don’t have time for this. Make up your mind and get outta the truck.” Jas hopped down and was reaching for her laundry and soap.

Blaster’s hand was there first from the other side of the truck bed. Jas blinked in surprise.

“I’m the boyfriend. I get to do this.” Blaster sounded defensive.

“Hey, I was kidding, Huck. I don’t seriously expect you to wait on me.”

“Too late.” He hoisted the items and rounded his truck with a frown as he headed for the door. Jas kept up and was bemused when he shouldered the door open for her, waiting for her to pass.

The laundry was a long, narrow space. Down the center of the painted cement floor there was a row of eight washing machines in varied shades of olive, yellow and dingy white. Along the wall facing the door were eight dryers. None of the equipment was standard industrial. They were simply large home washers and dryers altered with coin slots. In the back corner a twenty-inch television sat on a wall mount. It was so far up the picture was difficult to see.

There was a row of nearly vintage molded plastic chairs on a pipe set up with backs to the long window front. The glass front had been tinted with stick-on film to cut the heat from the sun in the already hot interior, preventing them from seeing the lone customer until they’d entered.

He lounged against the wall under the television. His chin seemed to be resting on his chest as if he might be sleeping on his feet. The tilt of his head made it difficult to make out features, only the top of his dark head and wide shoulders stretching a dark blue T-shirt. His arms were folded across his chest emphasizing the bulges in both chest and biceps. Dark gray jeans rode low on lean hips and seemingly endless legs were casually crossed at the large, booted feet. He was the biker. Everything about him said he’d stepped off the big horses out front.

Blaster didn’t even glance at the man as he tossed the laundry bag up on the fourth washer with its butt pointed at the biker. Flipping up the first three washing machine lids, he started sorting laundry into colors, delicates and whites. Jas watched him swiftly and expertly load her wardrobe into the washers, measure soap and feed coins into the slots. Only after all the lids were closed did he turn to the biker and glare. The relaxed, calm Southerner was gone.

“This is what they call deep cover in Montana? Staking out the local laundry and copping a peek at a lady’s personals?” Blaster’s voice sounded calm but even with this short exposure to him, Jas heard rumbling threat in it that’d never been there before. “And how the hell did you know we’d be here? Had a little look around, did you? I don’t recollect inviting you into her room. Last I knew, deep cover meant far, far away from the primary client. Invisible is also a common phrase used to describe it. Those points escape your notice?”

The tall biker’s head came up and he grinned, flashing straight white teeth. Jas almost gasped. The man was beautiful. Amused hazel eyes were surrounded by sooty lashes. Lean cheeks creased with his grin. A straight, regal nose. Biker also sported a Kirk Douglas chin, deep cleft and all. Chestnut hair flipped over his forehead, the long cut was deceptively ragged. It was naturally wavy and as perfectly male beautiful as the rest of him.

“It would have been deep cover if your rooster feathers weren’t all in a twist.” The biker-god-person replied calmly.

Outside two other cars pulled into the parking lot and movie people were piling out with laundry bags.

Blaster glanced out at their fast-disappearing privacy. “You’ve had eyes on. Now go do your damn job.”

“Town is clean. Your boys are long gone,” Biker relayed calmly. “They had a camp two miles out and it’s cold.”

Jas’ eyes were suddenly drawn to the television above Biker. It’d been a casual glance at first but now her attention was trapped in horrified disbelief. “Wilt-Wanna-Be, turn up the TV,” she ordered sharply into the men’s conversation.

Blaster glanced at her and immediately followed her gaze to the television. One look at her face and the tall biker reached up to punch up the sound.

They all watched the network news person sadly inform them that, “Homeland Security has taken over the investigation of a chartered airplane that crashed in the Everglades last night. No survivors have been found so far. The plane carried the president’s special prosecutor and his senior staff in the…” Jas didn’t hear any more.

Jas’ gaze flashed out the wall of windows and she stepped around the washers, sinking to the floor with her back to a washer as she dialed her cell phone with shaking fingers. The movie people were coming in the door talking loudly. Blaster’s hands moved in a signal to the biker but it wasn’t necessary as he sank to his haunches in front of Jas. Biker hadn’t moved away from the wall but he was on full alert, scanning both the noisy crowd entering the laundry and the street outside.

“No, no, no…” Jas moaned softly as the phone in her hands rang endlessly. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“What? Baby, what happened?” Blaster’s hands were on her drawn-up knees as she sat on the floor clutching the phone to her ear.

Ignoring him, Jas dialed another number. This time there was an answer on the first ring.

“Hello? Liana is that you?” a woman worriedly asked.

“Hello, Mrs. Allacosta. This is Jasmina. I’m looking for Liana.”

“Jasmina! I thought maybe she’d gone to visit you. I haven’t seen her since she left for that award yesterday. I think she might have gone home, but I can’t be sure. She’s not with you?” Mrs. Allacosta couldn’t help asking hopefully.

Jas put a finger in her other ear as the noise in the confined laundry increased with all eight washers running and people talking over the noise, but she didn’t stand up. Several of her coworkers were glancing at her on the floor questioningly.

“No, ma’am. Could you tell me exactly when you last saw her please?”

“I last saw her on TV accepting the award. The big party.”

Blaster frowned. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation but Jas’ whole body shuddered as she asked that telltale question. The “when did you last see her” question was only asked about a missing person. There was another player in the game. Someone Jas was worried about. The plane crash in Florida had tipped her off to trouble somehow. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly there was a large hand on Blaster’s shoulder. Blaster’s head whipped around to look up at Jackson. Jackson never took eyes off the outside view as he said quietly. “Mexican calling card just dropped in the truck bed. Any idea who?”

“Fuck!” Blaster couldn’t see around the washers, again he glanced up at Jackson. “What did you see?”

“Bike, leathers, helmet. No plates. Gone. Calling card is in view. We have to move.”

Jas’ eyes opened, her voice went calm and flat. “Yes, Mrs. Allacosta. I’ll keep an eye out for her. Please call me if you hear anything. Bye.”

Blaster grabbed her forearm and pulled her up without saying a word. Jas looked out at the truck and back at the two men in front of her. The place was full of curious people but she’d heard the biker’s quiet report.

Turning, she walked out of the laundry and got in the truck with no comment, not even glancing in the bed where a smallish burlap bag lay. It was discolored with a dark stain at the bottom.

Blaster slid behind the wheel, started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot with the big bike on his bumper. Neither of them said a word as they headed out of town at a sedate speed. Ten miles out, he turned off the main road at random, choosing a small dirt track. Out of sight of the main road, he swung over to the side at a place where they could see anyone coming both ways. It wasn’t the best choice but it was as good at they’d get on short notice. Jas said nothing as the Harley pulled up behind them.

Silently they stood around the back of the truck bed looking at the bag. Blaster finally reached for the burlap and Jas caught his arm.

“No. I’ll do it.” Her face hardened into determination as she carefully handled the burlap.

Rough fabric was tied with a pair of silk panties, she careful untied them without lifting it and the cloth fell open in a crude square. Late afternoon sun cast shadows across half the bed as a soft breeze flipped the burlap corners in a gruesome waving motion. At the center lay two delicate fingers tipped with sculpted nails painted pale coral.

Chapter Four

Jas turned away and took two running steps before she doubled over and wretched. Dimly she was aware of Blaster wrapping an arm around her waist and supporting her weight. The dry heaves passed. He handed her a handkerchief and a bottle of water, stepping back as she straightened but his hand remained on her back, lightly gliding up and down in a comforting motion. Jas stood there and gazed out at the pastoral scene that was the rural field they’d pulled into and gathered strength from its tranquility. Once again everything had changed but it was the same old story.

One of the definitions of insanity is to repeat the same action and expect different results. In her life she’d run, hidden and found a way to survive over and over again. But each time she thought she’d carved out a new safe place, the unthinkable happened. Jas suspected there was such a thing as being a magnet for evil.

Her early childhood in the Washington, D.C. projects had been grim to say the least. Predators of little girls lurked in every shadow. School had been promised as a way out. At fourteen, she’d become painfully aware that even teachers could be predators.

The struggle to finish high school had seemed monumental, but she’d thought she’d found a way out if she could just do it. The military promised that hope. She’d anticipated training would be tough when she’d joined the most difficult branch she could qualify for. But she’d expected working hard and excelling at being a Marine to earn her safety at last. The type of safety where she belonged to the group who could be trusted to watch her back. She’d been wrong again.

She’d done her part, excelling at being a Marine. Invested every fiber of her being into the training. Loving it. Seeking higher combat and marksmanship qualifications at every opportunity available. The war games had been a particular favorite. But in the end, it was still just her.

The one thing the military had given her was the skills to fight back. Getting out had been a battle that she’d won with those skills. Then she’d felt confident enough to use the one thing that’d been her greatest weakness. She was beautiful. The place that would finally work for her was the stage and she’d excelled. But evil was still following her.

Running, escaping and building a new life was no longer an option. Repeating that action and expecting it to work this time would be insane. No. It was time to stand and fight for the life she had or die in the attempt. Blood had been drawn and there was no question people had to die to put an end to this battle. This time she was armed, trained and not leaving the field until the battle was over. It didn’t really matter if she left in a box or was the one walking. It’d be over one way or the other.

Recovered, she turned to face the two men. “Well, do what you’re gonna do. I’m not leading you to the evidence. Killing the attorney holding it doesn’t get your boy off the hook. Torturing Liana for his name was your one play. Now it’s my turn.” She’d stepped back as she turned. Her arms hung loosely, deceptively casual-looking.

“Damn it, woman! We’re not here to hurt you. Our job is to fucking protect you,” Blaster spat out. “This geek with the bike is Jackson St. James, a member of my Unit. He was supposed to go deep and be backup. As you can see, he couldn’t manage that, but it’s only because he’s half infatuated with you. Despite that, we’re professionals, Jas. Just tell us what’s happening so we can fix it. Whose are those?” Blaster waved a hand toward the truck bed.

“If you’re not part of this, take me back to the motel. I’ve got things to do.” Jas hadn’t moved as she regarded them.

“Jas, be reasonable. Apparently the body count includes a plane full of people and a woman. Stakes just went through the roof. Someone is coming hard and you’re the target. Trust us. Trust me enough to let us help you. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it. You know that.” Blaster ran a hand around the back of his neck as he looked into her stunning face and saw nothing. She simply watched him. There was silence as she waited.

“Look, Miss Carson, he’s telling the truth. I’m a huge fan of yours, by the way. You can’t charge into this alone. These people are capable of anything,” Jackson tried sincerity.

Jas’ eyes remained locked on Blaster, seemingly ignoring Jackson. Blaster glared back at her and then turned away, hissing curses as his fist swung back and connected with the side of his truck. The scream of dented metal was accompanied by a bellow of frustration. In the ensuing silence Blaster’s head was bent and he panted harshly as if he’d been running. Jas didn’t flinch at the sound. Simply watched him.

Finally looking at her again, his eyes were resigned, Blaster stated calmly, “You can’t go back to the motel. They’ll be there.”

“If you’re not kidnapping me, get me a vehicle, Samuel.” The soft use of his real name made him grit his teeth a moment. She extended intimacy in the same phrase she demanded he let her go off alone.

“Jesus, Jas. Do not do this. We have the resources to fix this if you’ll just tell us what’s going on. Damn it, woman! Why does letting you go get killed have to be the only way to prove that we’re on your side? That
I’m
on your side. There has to be another way.”

Jas abruptly started talking. Her tone was soft and difficult to hear as she looked Blaster in the eye. “One of the passengers on the airplane, Cable Bourne, was the attorney who held the evidence on the rape I mentioned. There were two of us in the room. We’d been drugged, or at least I had. I suspect Liana was too drunk to need a drug. In any case, I didn’t protect my best friend on the one night she asked me to. The one night she needed it most. She’d asked me to go out with her so she could get smashed and I woke to find her broken in ways unimaginable.” Jas took a deep breath to continue. “Just now I called Liana and couldn’t reach her. Her mother hasn’t seen her.

“Two nights ago Liana received a national award for her work running a center for battered women. She wore a coral dress. She likes to match shoes, purse and nails.

“Those are the cards on the table, Samuel. Your choice. Whichever way you decide to go, I’m going to end this. You need to get about the business of killing me or let me get about the business of taking care of the problem.”

“Jas, I know it looks bad, but shouldn’t we at least confirm that your friend is…that that’s whose…” Blaster gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath as he tried to find a way around this. “Where would you go? Don’t you think wherever it is they are expecting you? As far as these guys are concerned, the party is on. You’re just the next item of entertainment on the playbill. Don’t force me away from you, Jas. I understand you need to finish this, but you don’t have to do it alone. Let me watch your back.”

“What?!” Jackson looked at Blaster in amazement. “You can’t be thinking of letting her go. Fucking kidnap her if we have to. Alive and mad is better than dead and mutilated!”

“No. It’s not,” Blaster responded quietly. “We
are
them if we don’t let her go. She has to know she can trust us.”

“Fuck that!” Jackson turned and took a step toward Jas. Blaster hit him blind side and had him pinned to the ground before Jackson knew he’d been hit. Leaning into Jackson’s face Blaster growled, “Touch her against her will and I’ll slice up whatever’s left of you, but she’ll kill you first, idiot.”

“Jesus Christ! Are you insane?” Jackson didn’t yell, his disgusted tone said he suspected the insane part was true.

“Look at her, Jack. If I hadn’t hit you, there would be a hole in you.” Jas was watching them with a gun held down by her thigh. “I told you, she’s not what you think. This is not a Hollywood princess.” Blaster let Jackson go and stood.

Jackson decided it was better to remain in an unthreatening position for a few minutes and sat on the ground looking at Jas.

She wore deadly calm as if it were a cape. Still in her movie-set leathers with the light silk jacket hanging open, he could see the butt of another gun under her right arm. Down by her left thigh her empty hand flexed open and a blade shot down into her palm. She caught the handle. It was pointed behind her in a stab grip. Gun in one hand, vicious-looking knife in the other, her long body rippled with energy. Her head tilted to the side fractionally. “Wanna play?”

Jackson shook his head and stood slowly to wearily dust off his jeans. “Fine. Get yourself shipped off somewhere in little pieces.”

Blaster frowned as he glanced at the truck bed significantly. “It’s not military, Jas.” Pointing at the burlap, Blaster continued. “That is the work of mercenaries. It’s a message that’s supposed to make it look organized crime this time. This might not be coming from the guy you think it is. Let’s be logical. The few bits of evidence I have tell me this is bigger than you thought. Something pushed the stakes up and they’re through playing games. They want you to do something and the present was a push. Why else send you such a graphic message? Why warn you of what they are capable of?”

“I know. I need a vehicle.” Her voice was quietly insistent.

“Christ!” Jackson spat out in frustration. “He’s trying to tell you that there isn’t anything these people will not do. No honor, no ethics. Our Unit can handle this sort of thing. We work together and we have a chance of getting to the bottom of it. You go out there bareback and you’ve got no chance. These people will kill you, Miss Carson. They’ve even told you they are going do it ugly. Backup is the logical… No, not logical, the sane choice.” Jackson paced to his bike, flipped up a saddlebag and retrieved a bottle of water, gulping it down.

“There is nothing they haven’t already done except kill me, Mr. St. James. Right now that looks like their big mistake. Going after Liana, the weakest one, might have been easy but the price on the other end is going to be as high as I can make it…” She glanced at the truck and then met Jackson’s eyes. “Liana has fought every demon they left her with and won. She’d made her life real again. She didn’t deserve this.” Jas turned to Blaster. “I have things to do and I mean to put an end to it. Make a choice.”

“What about you? What about your demons?” Blaster wanted to know softly. “You can’t win if you’re reacting. You need to calm down. Killing Bourne doesn’t get rid of the evidence. But they’d try to get their hands on it. Do you know where he kept it? We can get it. Come on, Jas, it’s not just you anymore. Give us the time to come at this with the best possible plan.”

“My demons? Hell, I’m about to trot them out for a little field trip. Don’t worry, mine are much older than this psychopath. They’ve had time to mature. He’s got nothing new to show us. The problem is, I know where this guy’s other skeletons are. By tomorrow they’ll be gone. The evidence I held on the man is stashed in Bourne’s safe, in his office. Chances are that’s already gone. I’m leaving tonight with or without your help. Stop stalling, Huckleberry, time as we know it just ended. Now there is only the end-game.”

A long silence followed her calmly delivered statement. “Give her keys to the bike,” Blaster said tiredly. “Can’t use the truck. They obviously know it.” He fished out his wallet and pulled out all the bills. “Here, this will get you a ways. Call me if you need more.” He handed her the money.

Jas tucked the bills in a pocket. The gun and knife had already disappeared. “I’ll pay you back when this is over.”

“Wait a damn minute. The bike? Why does it have to be my Harley? I’m the one who thinks this is a shitty idea. Right up there with pissing into the wind.” Neither Jas nor Blaster even glanced at Jackson. “Hello! Is anyone listening to me?”

Blaster handed her a card from his wallet after he’d written two numbers on it. “Call me when you get where you’re going. The top one is my cell. If you can’t reach it, the other one is my Unit commander’s. He’ll know who you are.”

“Oh for the love of Pete, wait.” Jackson grabbed the card and the pen and quickly added a third number before handing it to her. “If you’re taking my bike, you’d damn well better call me. I’ll want it back.” Glancing between Blaster and Jas, who hadn’t broken eye contact, Jackson sighed loudly. “Come on, I need to show you a few special additions to it. You have ridden before? This one is heavy, if you lay it down, you won’t be able to pick it up again.”

Jas smiled at Jackson for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her and it didn’t reassure him one bit. He hadn’t known it was possible for deadly intent to look so lovely. She moved over beside him and listened carefully as he pointed out the big motorcycle’s special features, one of them being a hidden gun.

“Now you’re sure you can handle this?” Jackson asked again as she pulled on his leather jacket over the soft silk one and rolled up the sleeves. She hadn’t even protested when he insisted she wear it for protection if she crashed.

“If I can’t, you’re in deep shit.” She smiled dryly and turned to Blaster.

Her whole body changed as she looked at the rangy, blond man who ate her with his eyes. The she-predator morphed into an utterly sexual hunter. He was two steps away but her stroll into his body was fluid female approaching a male. She leaned in to him from knees to chest as her hands slid up his arms and around his neck in slow motion. There was no smile on either face as she flowed into him, her body a wave sliding around a rock. Her fingers sank into his hair and her lips stopped a breath away from his.