Читать книгу The Men In Uniform Collection - Barbara McMahon - Страница 34

“GET DRESSED.”

Christie stared at the hole in her wall. One second later, and Boone would have been dead. One second.

She felt a warm drip down the inside of her thigh, and she realized that they hadn’t discussed birth control. That she hadn’t even thought about him wearing a rubber. She took the pill, had for years, but she always insisted that the guy be safe. Always. But not with Boone, and Boone had almost been killed. If she hadn’t looked down. If she hadn’t seen all those TV shows with the laser sights, she wouldn’t have known. She wouldn’t have warned him.

“Christie.”

She looked up. Boone, sweat making his face shiny, stared at her. He had his gun out.

“Christie, I’m okay. You need to get dressed. Right now.”

She moved on the bed, sore from the most incredible orgasm she could ever remember. “I’ll go turn on the shower.”

“No. There’s no time. Just get your clothes on. Just hurry.”

She nodded. Turned on her elbow to get up. But his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Stay low. I don’t know where he’s shooting from, I don’t know what he can see. So stay low, grab your clothes and get to the hallway.”

She moved in slow motion, finding her shirt, jeans, bra, panties, shoes. Then she crawled on her own carpet to the hallway, expecting a bullet in her back the whole way.

She bumped into Milo and nearly screamed, but he just licked her face, huddling close, his tail wagging. She hugged him tight, then struggled into her clothes, watching as Boone made his way to the window.

How could the bastard have seen them? The blinds were drawn, so how could he see? Was his timing on purpose? Was he watching them make love, just waiting until they came to shoot Boone? If she hadn’t seen the red dot, then Boone would have fallen on her body. He would have still been inside her.

She was shaking, so damn hard she couldn’t hook her bra. There was no way she was going to cry. Not while he could see her. Not while that asshole was outside, looking in.

“Where’s your purse?”

“What?”

Boone didn’t look at her. He was almost to the window, and she could make out the muscles in his back, in his thighs. He didn’t touch the blinds, but she saw where the bullet had broken through. She could see the glint of glass on the carpet.

Even the blood on the bed hadn’t felt like this. Hadn’t ripped the last shred of safety from the edges of her mind. Finally, she got the bra on and then she put her shirt over her head. The moment of blackness nearly made her pass out, but she didn’t cry.

“Your purse. Where’s your purse?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Are you dressed?”

“I don’t have my shoes on.”

“That’s okay. Can you get to your purse without standing up? Can you keep clear of the windows?”

“I think—Yeah. I can.”

“Do that. Carefully. Then get your keys out, okay?”

“Okay.”

He looked at her. “Keep it together, Christie. I’ve got you.”

She nodded, thought about putting on her sneakers, but she headed for the kitchen on hands and knees. Milo trotted along with her, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him. Inch by inch she crawled until she saw her purse next to her chair. She’d put it there so casually, not ever thinking that it was out of the line of sight of a sniper.

There was no sound at all from the other room. All she wanted to do was turn, see Boone, just for a second. Make sure he was still there. Still alive. But she kept moving until she could touch the edge of her purse, feel the leather strap in her hand.

If her heart would just stop pounding, she’d catch her breath and it would be okay. It wouldn’t hurt so much. She brought her purse up to her chest, and crawled back to the hallway, instantly better when she saw that Boone was fine.

He wasn’t naked anymore. He had on jeans and he was pulling on a pair of socks.

Socks. She hadn’t gotten socks, and she hated to wear her sneakers without socks, but she couldn’t get them now. The tears she’d been fighting broke through. She swiped them away, pissed that she was crying over stupid socks.

“Christie?”

She sniffed, swiped. “Yeah.”

“You have the purse?”

“Yes.”

“Get out your car keys.”

“Okay.” She opened her purse and found her keys, but she had to hold them in her fist because they made so much noise.

“Now make sure Milo follows, and head for the garage door, okay? Keep low. Take your purse, and go to the door, but don’t open it, you understand?”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re coming, right?”

“I’ll be right there.”

She didn’t have to encourage Milo. He’d caught on that things weren’t good, and he was sticking close to the pack, his tail between his legs, his nose low to the ground. She knew just how he felt.

When they got to the door that led into the garage, Christie realized she hadn’t taken her shoes, which made weeping over socks seem pretty ridiculous.

She put her back against the wall, her purse on her chest, her arms over her purse. Her bare feet were flat on the cold floor. Milo sat in front of her, his head on his paws, his eyes staring up at her.

There was no noise, no sound at all. Boone would come in a second. Any second. She started counting, keeping the rhythm steady. Ten, eleven, twelve…

When she got to eighty, she realized she’d left her gun in the living room. So when the bastard broke in, she’d be here, barefoot and helpless. All that training for nothing. What did it matter? She couldn’t hit the target. She’d have missed him anyway.

“You okay?”

She jumped against the door, then realized it was Boone, and he was still with her. “Can we go now?”

“We can. Let’s just do this by the book, okay?” He was coming toward her, crouched but not crawling, wearing his shirt, a leather jacket, holding his duffel under his left arm, his gun in his right hand. “You need to carry my bag and give me the keys.”

She nodded.

“Christie, honey? The keys?”

She passed them over, and took his duffel, which was incredibly heavy.

“Can you do it?”

“Yes.”

“All right. No lights. Just let Milo in the backseat, then you get into the passenger seat. Put your seat belt on the second you close the door.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re clear. Right now, just concentrate on getting in the car.”

She nodded, wishing she’d remembered her shoes.

Boone opened the door. She stood, feeling that target in the center of her back. She headed out, Milo on her heels, and did exactly as she was told. Boone got behind the wheel, pressed the outer garage button, then turned the key.

This, she was familiar with. The darting out, the escape. But the last time she’d had to do it she’d been alone. There’d been no hole in her wall.

They hit the street in a screech of tires, then he pressed the button, and put the car in Drive. She had to hold on, despite the seat belt, as he jetted forward. She didn’t let go until they were on the San Diego Freeway.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” she said. “I forgot my shoes. And you were almost killed.”

“But you’re not hurt?”

“No. How did he know where to shoot?”

“There are ways. I’m guessing he drilled a hole in the wall, very small, sent a tiny camera through.”

“Seth didn’t find it?”

“No, he didn’t. I don’t know why. Seth is really good at what he does.”

“Not good enough.”

Boone put his hand on her thigh. “You saved my life.”

“I suppose so.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded, but she couldn’t speak. Not without breaking down, and dammit, she wouldn’t. No more crying. The bastard had chased her out of her home.

“We’re going to my place,” he said. “We’ll regroup. We’ll figure this thing out, and we’ll get him. I swear to God, we’ll get him.”

She stared out the window at the passing cars. She had no idea what time it was. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have to be at work in the morning, so who cared how late it was? She didn’t have to go to the cleaners, or meet with clients, or call her friends, or go to her book club. All she had to do was stay alive. And that wasn’t looking so good.

BOONE KEPT IT TOGETHER ALL the way to Pasadena. It took a hell of a long time, because he used every maneuver he knew, checking for tails all the way across Los Angeles. He wished she would say something.

Who the hell was this guy? What did he want with her?

He turned onto Del Mar, slowing the car down to check the rearview mirror.

“Is this it?” Christie said, shocking the hell out of him. “Am I on the run now? Is this my new life?”

“No. We’ll be going back to the house.”

“Are you nuts?”

“It’s the only way we’ll catch him. We have to get him there.”

“No. I’m not going back there.”

“It’ll be safe.”

“That’s what you said right before he nearly shot you.”

He wanted to reassure her, but he didn’t know how. “Let’s get together with Seth and Kate. We’ll talk it through. If you don’t want to go back, of course you don’t have to. No one will force you.”

“You can’t go back, either.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“He can see through the goddamn walls. And he meant to kill you, not me. You.”

“To get to you.”

She turned back to the window. He didn’t blame her. He’d been wrong about this guy from day one, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how. How could a stalker get equipment like that? The only thing that made sense was that he wasn’t an ex-spook. He was working for the Company. Now. And if he was with the Company, than chances were good he knew who Boone was. Not just Boone, but Kate and Seth.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked, her voice still bitter.

“Almost at my place.”

“Do you have any food there?”

“Not a thing.”

“Shit.”

He smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Tell you what. I’ll have Seth bring you whatever you want.”

“Great. I want cheesecake. And diet soda. And I want size-seven Nikes with cotton socks.”

“Tonight, you’ll have cheesecake. I’m not so sure about the shoes.”

She sniffed, still not looking his way. “Fine.”

He approached his driveway carefully, studying the cars on either side of the street. He recognized all but one, and that was in front of Walter’s place. Slowing the car, he looked at Walter’s windows. The only one that was lit was upstairs. The bedroom.

He turned into his drive and went past the main house to his little place. It had once been a garage, but it had been converted to a guest house before he’d moved in. It was quiet, and hidden from the street.

Christie got out as soon as he’d parked, and she let Milo out, too. The dog investigated the small patch of grass by the front door.

Boone checked his tell, the thin wire he threaded between the door and the frame. It hadn’t been disturbed. Once he’d unlocked the door, he went in, weapon drawn, and checked each room. It didn’t take long. The place had one bedroom, his office, the kitchen, bath, living room. Nothing was out of place. No one had triggered his motion sensor. He went back to the car, got his duffel, and went to stand next to Christie. “I’ll have Seth bring Milo some dog food.”

She nodded. “Don’t forget the cheesecake.”

“I won’t. We need to go in, though. I have to make some calls.”

She called Milo, and the three of them went into the house. Milo investigated with his nose, and Christie with her hands. She touched things, his lamp, the top of the club chair, his books.

He knew it wasn’t a nice place, but at least it was clean. It had never felt like a home. Like everything else in his life, it was a temporary measure, somewhere to hole up while he tried to find his life.

Seth had a place just like it. Quiet, hard to find. So did Kate, and the others. They were displaced persons. Exiles in their own country.

He understood Christie’s despair. It felt like hell to be banished. But for Christie, it was a question of finding one man. A clever man, a player, yes, but one man. And once they got him, she’d get everything back. Boone and his friends would have to find deeper holes to hide in, but Christie would be all right.

He went to his office and looked up Walter’s phone number. He had all the neighbors in his book, listed along with what they drove, if they had pets, where they worked. Walter answered after the first ring. He sounded drunk.

“Hey, Walter. It’s Boone. You in the mood for a couple games of pool?”

“I got company.”

“Oh, sorry. Have a good one.”

Walter hung up, but Boone knew the car out front belonged to Walter’s friend.

The next call was to Seth. It was short, filled with several heartfelt curses, and instructions for a grocery run. Kate was sleeping, but as soon as Boone told her what happened, she was alert, and on her way. The calls made, he went in search of Christie.

She was standing in the kitchen. “You need a decorator.”

“Yeah, I do. But not for here. This is just a room. It doesn’t need to be fancy.”

She turned to him. “Fancy? How about livable? This is like a prison cell.”

“I have cable.”

“So does Leavenworth.”

“Hey, at least it has a coffee machine.” He got the grounds out of the freezer, then fixed a full pot. They’d be up late tonight, and they’d need the caffeine. Seth was bringing cream along with some other necessities. Boone had a lot of protein powder and PowerBars, but he didn’t have anything fresh. He cleaned out the fridge before every job.

“It wouldn’t take much, you know. A little paint, a couple of inexpensive pictures for the walls. It has to be hard, waking up in this place. Boone, you deserve better.”

“I’ll have better. Just not here.”

“Care to explain that?”

“Why don’t I get you a pair of socks. Your feet must be cold.” He walked out of the kitchen, with Christie right behind.

“Wait a minute. What the hell’s with you? You live like a monk. You have all this spy stuff. You’re not in the service anymore. What happened in the Balkans, Boone?”

He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “I can’t tell you. And it’s not important now. We have a lot to do tonight, and we have to be focused on only one thing. Getting that prick, taking him down. Got it?”

She nodded, but she didn’t look happy about it.

He went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of thick socks, but when he went to give them to her she was standing by his bed.

“This is just sad,” she said, looking at his plain white sheets and old, plaid blankets. There was no headboard. Just a side table, where he kept his gun, and on top of the dresser, a secondhand television.

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

She sat down to put on the socks, but she studied him. “You bring women here?”

“No.”

“You don’t date?”

“Not so’s you’d notice.”

“Come on, Boone. A healthy guy like you? I can’t picture you embracing a life of celibacy.”

He had no reason to, but he felt embarrassed. “I’m not.”

“Who, besides me?”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“No, we don’t. We don’t have to say another word.” She got up, went into the living room and sat on the floor next to Milo.

Feeling like a total shit, he went to sit beside her. He thought about asking her to join him on the couch, but this would be fine. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You put your life at risk for me, and you don’t even know me. I’m sure I’m keeping you from your regular work, so you’re not even making any money.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.” She turned to face him. “How much would you charge for this if I wasn’t Nate’s sister?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. Don’t do that to me. Someday, in theory, I’ll have my life back. I’ll have a job. I want to pay you.”

That bothered him more than he understood. It wasn’t an outrageous thing to offer. He was, in fact, losing money on the deal. “Can’t you just accept that this is something I want to do?”

“Yes. Which doesn’t negate my need to pay you. I’m pretty damn helpless, in case you haven’t noticed. Paying you, even if it is in the future, will at least let me feel like I have something to contribute. Some tiny bit of control.”

“Fair enough.”

“So?”

He took a deep breath as he looked at her. She was a beautiful woman. Strong, sensible and full of courage. He admired her, and he’d always remember making love with her, even if the ending wasn’t the warm cuddle it should have been. He wouldn’t forget what a horrible mistake it was, either. He could have gotten them both killed. It wouldn’t happen again.

“Hello? You still here?”

“Sorry. I got lost for a minute.”

“I could see that.” She touched his cheek. “Where were you?”

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you before. You were amazing.”

She smiled. “We were. Despite the worst ending ever.”

“It could have been worse.”

She shuddered, and the smile disappeared. “So what do I owe you?”

“Two thousand.”

“If that’s all you charge, no wonder you have no good furniture.”

“The job’s not over. Let’s start with two and go from there.”

“Fair enough.” She leaned in just enough to let him know she’d welcome a kiss to seal the deal.

It couldn’t happen. Not tonight. Not ever again. He got up and went to get them coffee.