Читать книгу The Bodyguard's Assignment - Amanda Stevens - Страница 13

Through her dark glasses, Grace anxiously scoured the pedestrian traffic on Market Street. A cold front had moved in earlier, and she sat shivering in the lightweight denim jacket she’d hastily purchased yesterday, after she’d decided to go underground. Actually, it hadn’t been a decision so much as a necessity. She had to lay low if she wanted to stay alive. If she wanted to keep her mother alive.

At the thought of Angeline, bitter tears stung Grace’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn’t break down now. She had to stay focused, in control. She had to have a plan.

If only there was someone she could call, someone she could turn to. Someone she could trust. But there wasn’t. After everything that had happened since two o’clock yesterday morning, when she’d narrowly escaped that burning warehouse, Grace knew she could rely on no one but herself. No one could save her mother but her.

She suppressed another shiver as she tried to fight back her mounting despair. It was too cold to be seated outside, but she hadn’t wanted to be trapped inside the café. Out here, even with the coming darkness, she could at least watch the street.

Picking up her cup of coffee, she cradled the warmth in her hands as she scanned her surroundings. A horse-drawn carriage ambled down the street, stirring bittersweet memories of the last time she and her mother had taken a carriage ride together. Angeline had been in the early stages of Alzheimer’s then, with only the occasional memory lapse to remind them that one day soon, there would be no such outings.

Grace’s mother had always loved coming to Dallas’s West End, perusing the shops and dining in the converted warehouses. As Grace sat watching the street she and her mother had strolled together so many times in the past, a sense of desperation stole over her. Where are you? she cried silently. What have they done to you?

Yesterday morning, just hours after Grace had fled the warehouse, she’d gone home from a meeting with Burt Gordon, her boss at the Examiner, to find that her apartment had been sacked. As she’d stood gazing at the wreckage of her personal belongings, her cellular phone had rung. When Grace answered, a male voice on the other end said, “Grace Drummond?”

Something about the way he spoke her name made her blood go cold. “Yes?”

“You have something I want.”

“Who is this?”

“You know who I am.”

“Kane?” His name was barely a whisper on her lips.

He gave a low laugh. “I understand you’ve gotten pretty chummy with one of my colleagues. Unfortunately, Alec met his untimely demise earlier this morning, but then, you already know that, don’t you?”

Grace’s heart thundered in her ears. How had Kane known about her association with Priestley? Had Priestley talked? Had he sold her out before he died?

She swallowed, trying to calm her racing pulse. “What do you want?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I want.” Kane paused. “Tell me something, Grace. How long has it been since you talked to your mother?”

The connection had been severed with a soft click, leaving Grace clinging to the telephone with a horrible dread. She’d immediately dialed the number of the nursing home where her mother lived, only to have the director tell her that Angeline had been transported by ambulance a short while ago to another facility as per Grace’s written request.

Grace had given no such instructions, and when she’d called the new facility, they’d never heard of her or her mother. By that time, Grace was in her car, racing toward the nursing home. When her cell phone rang again, she lifted it to her ear without saying a word, knowing instinctively who was on the other end.

“Now I have something you want.”

Grace’s stomach rolled sickeningly. “Don’t hurt her. I swear to God, if you hurt her in any way—”

“Cut the dramatics,” Kane said cruelly. “We both know you aren’t in any position to make threats. From here on out, I call the shots.”

When Grace didn’t respond, he laughed. “You’re in over your head, little girl. I’ve got people in places you can’t begin to imagine. You talk to a friend, I’ll know it. You talk to the cops again—I’ll know that to. You understand?”

Grace understood. Only too well. Her hand shook as she gripped the phone. In the last five years, she’d done a lot of research on the drug trade. Drug lords spent millions of dollars a year to keep cops on their side. Obviously, Kane was no exception.

“You want to keep your mother alive, you keep your mouth shut.” His voice lowered dangerously. “If I so much as smell a cop nosing around that nursing home, or anywhere else, she’s a dead woman.”

Grace squeezed her eyes closed in fear. “Tell me what to do.” But even in her state of terror, she knew she was dealing with a man she couldn’t trust. A cold-blooded murderer. It would take equal cunning to get her mother out of this alive.

“You keep that phone close by, you hear? I’ll be in touch. We’ll set up a drop. Your mother for that tape.”

“When—”

The phone had gone dead in Grace’s ear, and she hadn’t heard from Kane since. It had been over twenty-four hours.

She knew what he was doing. He was making her sweat. Wearing her down. Making her so desperate to save her mother that she would get careless.

Her fingers trembled around the now lukewarm cup of coffee as she contemplated her dilemma. Her frail, beautiful mother was being held hostage for the tape that could put Kane away forever, and possibly incriminate Stephen Rialto. That tape—and Grace’s silence—was the only thing that could save Angeline’s life.

But Grace knew once Kane had what he wanted, he would come after them. He wouldn’t take a chance on her silence, and she had to be ready. Once the exchange was made, she and Angeline would have to disappear forever.

Her heart quickened as she spotted a familiar figure crossing the street toward her. Even in the deepening twilight, she could see Helen Parks’s agitation in the way she walked, in the nervous way she glanced over her shoulder from time to time. She was warmly dressed in a long wool coat and leather gloves, and a metal briefcase swung at her side.

Helen paused on the sidewalk in front of the café, her gaze meeting Grace’s for an instant before she disappeared inside, only to emerge moments later on the patio. She sat down at the table with Grace and placed the briefcase on the floor between them.

One leather-clad hand reached for Grace’s on the table. Her dark eyes searched Grace’s face. “God, are you all right? I’ve been worried out of my mind ever since Burt told me what happened.”

“Burt?” Absently, Grace pulled her hand away, entangling her fingers together in her lap. “What did he say?”

“He’s worried about you, too. He said you called him night before last and had him meet you at the office. He said you were scared to death and that you were going to the police with a tape you’d made.” Helen glanced around the almost deserted patio. “Grace, what’s going on? What have you gotten yourself into? It has something to do with the Calderone drug cartel, doesn’t it?”

“In a roundabout way,” Grace admitted. She scanned the patio, too. “You remember the night I staked out the warehouse? They murdered a man, Helen. My contact. Alec Priestley. I saw it. I got the whole thing on tape. They set the warehouse on fire, and I barely made it out. I didn’t know what to do at first, so I called Burt and asked him to meet me at the office. We talked about the situation for a long time. He wanted me to turn over the tape to him for safekeeping, but I’d already stashed it. And by that time, I knew I had to go to the police. I mean…I’d witnessed a murder. What else could I do?”

Helen’s gaze looked stricken. “I told you not to go there that night, remember? I warned you what kind of people they were.”

“I know. And believe me, I wish I’d listened to you,” Grace said grimly.

“What happened with Burt?”

“He stormed out of the office when I refused to turn over the tape. I used his phone to call the police. I talked to a detective, told him I’d witnessed a murder. I could finger Lester Kane and possibly Stephen Rialto, and I had the whole thing on tape. I asked him to meet me at my apartment later that morning so that I could throw some things together. I knew I’d be taken into protective custody, and I had to take care of some business first. Besides, I had no reason to believe I was in any danger. I mean no one even knew about me, right? Or the tape? At least, that’s what I thought. But when I got home a few hours later, my apartment had been tossed. Someone was already looking for that tape, Helen. Kane already knew about me.”

Helen’s dark eyes widened in fear. “But how did he find out so quickly? You didn’t tell anyone except Burt and the police—” She stopped short. Her gloved hand went to her mouth. “You’re not saying you think Burt—”

“I don’t know. But Kane found out about me somehow.”

“Maybe he already knew. Let’s think about this for a minute.” Helen stared at the street pensively as she tucked her short, dark hair behind her ears. “Your contact—this Alec Priestley—he could have gotten cold feet and told Kane himself. At any rate, Kane must have suspected him. Why else would he have killed him?”

Grace shrugged helplessly. “I’ve been over and over this in my head, Helen. Priestley left a door in the warehouse unlocked for me that night so that I could get in and hide, but after the fire started, I couldn’t get out. Someone had padlocked the door from the outside, which means someone already knew I was in there. I was supposed to die in that fire.” She paused when Helen gasped. Grace leaned toward her slightly, lowering her voice even more. “Burt knew I was going to the warehouse that night. He also knew Priestley was my contact.”

Helen looked a little dazed. “I just don’t buy it. I refuse to believe Burt would sell you out like that. Not even for a story. He wouldn’t be in cahoots with a drug dealer. No way.”

“I don’t want to believe it, either, but who else could have known?”

“Well,” Helen said slowly. “There was me.”

Grace met her gaze in shock. “You? You wouldn’t—”

“No,” Helen cut in. “I wouldn’t betray you. Of course not. But I’m just saying other people knew besides Burt. He can be ruthless when he’s after a story, but he’s not a criminal. I think deep down you know that.”

Grace didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t like Burt Gordon hadn’t betrayed her before. It wasn’t like he was above doing something underhanded.

“What about the police?” Helen asked. “You said you called and told them everything. A cop on the take isn’t unheard of.”

“I know that.” Kane had hinted as much when he’d called her. “I’ve got people in places you can’t begin to imagine.”

Grace shuddered, glancing around the darkened streets.

“The cops have been all over your office,” Helen said. “Going through your files, reading your phone messages. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve put out an APB on you.”

Grace wouldn’t be surprised, either. She was their key witness, after all. “Did they take anything from my files?”

“I don’t know. But a detective came by my office asking questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

Helen shrugged. “The usual stuff—if I’d heard from you. Where I thought you might be.”

“What did you tell him?” Grace asked anxiously.

“The truth. I hadn’t heard from you then, and I didn’t know where to find you.” She leaned across the table toward Grace. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace admitted. “Lay low for a few days until I can figure things out.” She hadn’t told anyone, even Helen, about her mother’s kidnapping. The last thing she needed was a horde of cops descending on the nursing home, alerting Kane that she’d talked. “You talk to a friend, I’ll know it. You talk to the cops again…I’ll know that, too.”

Helen nudged the briefcase toward her. “I got the money you asked for. As much as I could on such short notice.”

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” Grace told her. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Helen’s brown eyes clouded. “It’s not the money I’m worried about. You’re in too deep, Grace. You can’t do this alone. You have to go to the police.”

“I can’t. Until I figure out who’s feeding Kane information, I can’t even trust the police.” Grace’s smile was strained as she glanced at Helen. “You’d better get going before someone sees us together. I don’t want to involve you in this mess anymore than I already have.”

Reluctantly, Helen stood. “Will you keep in touch?”

“If I can.”

“Be careful, Grace. Kane—he’s going to be even more dangerous now. As for Rialto and Calderone…” She trailed off with a shudder, her silence more eloquent than words.

LONELINESS welled inside Grace as she watched her friend disappear into the darkness. She was on her own now. There would be no further contact with Helen until Grace and her mother were safely out of the country. Maybe not even then.

Her plan was fairly simple. After the exchange was made, she and her mother would head for New York, to Grace’s father’s place. Harry Drummond had left them years ago to go chasing after stories halfway round the world, and he’d never looked back. But as successful as he’d become, as arrogant and coldhearted as Grace knew him to still be, she didn’t think even he could turn his back on them now. He had the money and clout needed to get them out of the country as quickly as possible, and Grace was prepared to use whatever trickery and coercion necessary to enlist his help.

Once Helen was out of sight, Grace rose with the briefcase and made her way through the café to the street. Outside, she paused, glancing in both directions before she headed toward the parking lot on McKinney.

In spite of the cold, the streets were crowded with the after-work crowd pursuing happy hour with a vengeance in the bars and cafés that lined the West End. Grace didn’t pay much attention when someone bumped into her. But when a hand grabbed her elbow, she gasped and tried to jerk away.

“Keep walking,” a masculine voice told her. “Don’t look back.”

Grace’s heart thudded against her chest. She had only a split second to decide what to do, but as she gathered her strength to fight back, the man’s hand tightened painfully on her arm, as if he’d intuited her response before she had.

“Don’t try it,” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous, edged with an unfamiliar drawl.

He was too large to be Kane. This man had to be at least six three, with broad, powerful-looking shoulders beneath a sheepskin jacket. Grace was a tall woman, but at five nine, she still had to struggle to match her stride to his.

His face was shadowed by the brim of a Stetson hat, but when she glanced up, she had the immediate impression of chiseled features. Of a strong jaw and a stubborn chin.

“What do you want?” she demanded, trying to cloak her panic behind bravado.

“You know what I want.” Almost the exact same words Kane had spoken to her on the phone.

Grace’s heart almost stopped. “What makes you think I won’t start screaming right here in the middle of the street?”

“That’s not your style, is it, Grace?”

The way he said her name…that voice…

Grace stumbled in shock. He hauled her up, grasping her arms in his hands as he steadied her. Their gazes met, and beneath the brim of his hat, gray eyes watched her coldly.

“Brady?” She said his name in wonder, almost afraid to believe it was really him. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I came here to protect you.” His voice was hard and grim, edged with bitterness as sharp as a knife blade.

“Protect me? But how did you know…” Her voice faded as the impact of the situation hit her. For five years, she’d waited for this moment. Waited for the chance to tell Brady Morgan how sorry she was for what she’d done to him. She had no idea where he’d gone off to when he left the police force, or what he’d been doing all these years. But staring up into his eyes, Grace realized that time hadn’t dimmed his feelings for her. He still despised her as much as he had the last time she’d seen him.

“How did you know where to find me?” she finished quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to keep on the move. Someone may be following you.”

Grace started to glance over her shoulder, but his grip on her tightened. He turned her toward the street and started walking, pulling her along at his side.

“You said you came here to protect me,” she said breathlessly, trying to keep up with him. “Who sent you?”

When he didn’t answer, she slowed her steps, until he was forced to do the same.

“Who sent you, Brady? Why are you really here?”

“I told you. I’m here to protect you.” His voice was as frigid as his gaze.

“What does that mean?” she asked almost angrily.

His jaw tightened. “It means I’m taking you someplace where you’ll be safe.”

That stopped her cold. She jerked her arm from his grip. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me exactly what you’re up to.”

“What’s the matter, Grace? Don’t you trust me?”

His sarcasm stung, but Grace knew she had it coming. She lifted her chin. “Right now, I’m not in a position to trust anyone.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Was it her imagination, or had his voice softened? Hope trembled through Grace, and she closed her eyes briefly. She wanted to believe him. She wanted more than anything to have an ally, but her mother’s life was at stake. Brady Morgan had once been an honorable man, but five years could change a person.

So could betrayal.

She gazed up at him, hardening her resolve. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t.”

“It’s not up for discussion. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. Makes no difference to me.”

The insolence in his tone triggered Grace’s anger. “Oh, and just what are you going to do when I resist? Grab a fistful of my hair and drag me down the street? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me kicking and screaming into the sunset? Is that the reason for the Marlboro man getup?” Her gaze raked disdainfully over the hat and the sheepskin coat, the boots that made him seem even taller. “Are you trying to convince me you’d actually resort to such tactics?”

He gazed down at her, the gray of his eyes glittering like twin glaciers. “Looks like it’s going to be the hard way.”

When he reached for her, Grace instinctively flinched away. And at that exact moment, something buzzed by her face. A fraction of a second later, she heard the sound of the gunshot as the bullet crashed into the wall of the building behind her.

The next few moments were a blur. Grace realized she’d been shot at just as Brady lunged toward her. The two of them crashed to the ground, and the air rushed from Grace’s lungs. For an instant, the fact that the breath had been knocked out of her frightened her more than the sound of gunshots.

Gunshots. In the plural, her dazed mind finally absorbed. She and Brady were still being fired upon.

Shouts erupted on the street, and the scene became chaotic as frightened onlookers dove for cover. Someone screamed in agony as a stray bullet found a mark. In the pandemonium of thrashing bodies, Brady drew Grace to her feet and all but flung her toward the side of the building.

“Keep low,” he shouted as he shoved her roughly toward the alley between the two buildings. He flattened them both against the wall, and with his weapon drawn, he chanced a glance around the corner. A chunk of the building disintegrated over his head, and he grabbed Grace’s hand. “Run!”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Grace sprinted up the narrow alley beside him, her long legs pumping full throttle. She wasn’t trying to keep up with Brady this time. She was trying to outdistance him if she could. Bullets whizzing overhead could do that.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the end of the alley and a padlocked gate barred their way that Grace realized she still clung to the metal briefcase. Brady took it from her hand and tossed it over the fence. Then he easily scaled the mesh, reaching a hand down to pull her up. Her sleeve caught on a wire, and she ripped it loose, scrambling over the fence to land on her feet on the other side.

But Brady collapsed to the ground, clutching his knee and writhing on the ground in agony. “Run!” he gasped. “Keep going.”

Sparks flew from the fence as a bullet skimmed the metal. Grace ducked, grabbing Brady’s arm. “Come on!”

Flinging off her hand, he fired several rounds into the alley, the sound almost deafening. Grace recoiled, her ears ringing.

“Get up!” she cried. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Go,” Brady said. “I’ll catch up.”

He fired again as another bullet flashed against the fence. Grace lunged for the briefcase. She wasn’t about to leave it behind. The money inside would help her and her mother leave the country. Or at least, it would tide them over until she could contact her father.

She turned back to find Brady struggling to his feet. “I thought I told you to run.”

“We’re wasting time talking about it.” As another round hummed overhead, she grabbed Brady’s hand. This time, it was Grace who took the lead.