Читать книгу The Men In Uniform Collection - Barbara McMahon - Страница 41

EVENING HAD ARRIVED, and there was no more dodging the issue of getting out of bed. Poor Milo had been kept outside for most of the day, and he had to be lonely. But Christie didn’t want to move, unless it was to turn over and snuggle closer to Boone.

His stomach grumbled, and that did it. She kicked the covers off and sat up. Damn, he looked great, all spread out and naked right there on her blue sheets. She stretched, feeling languid and a little sore, thinking about the shower. She should go by herself, because if they did it together, there was no guarantee they’d have dinner any time soon.

“Don’t go,” he said, then he winced and touched his lip.

“When’s the last time you took an aspirin?”

“I don’t need an aspirin.”

“Oh, really? You feel no pain, is that it?”

“That’s right, missy.” He banged on his chest like a gorilla. “Real men don’t need aspirin.”

She bent over and kissed him, hard, on the lips. He yelped like a little boy. Still hovering inches above him, she smiled. “Liar.”

“Okay, so we feel a little pain.”

“I’m going to get out of this bed. First, I’ll bring you medicine. Then, I’m taking a shower because, frankly, we’re pretty rank. After that, I plan to eat an obscene amount of junk food. You may come with me, as long as you swear not to rag on me about my meal choices.”

“I may, huh? I suppose I can hold back.” He rolled over, nearly knocking her off the bed. “Wake me when it’s time for food.”

She slapped his naked butt. “Like hell. You get to feed Milo, you lucky stiff. And you get to shower as soon as I’m done.”

“Hey, wait a minute.”

“My house, my rules.”

“But who’s going to wash your back?”

“I’ll manage. Now don’t fall asleep.” Christie got out of bed, wincing a little herself, and grabbed her robe from the back of her door. She went into the bathroom, got Boone some painkillers and a glass of water and made sure he took the pills. The she smiled as she gathered her clothes and headed for the shower.

THEY’D GONE FAST-FOOD ALL the way, including a plain burger without the bun for Milo, who was now frolicking happily on the grass while Christie ate and Boone scowled. He’d kept his promise and hadn’t said a word. Not that he had to. The crease above his nose spoke volumes.

She looked around the park, enjoying the freedom of eating alfresco, even if it was at a picnic table. There were two other families sitting several tables away, and quite a few folks with dogs, which was why she’d chosen this particular park. Milo deserved a reward after all he’d been through. Just like she deserved the large order of fries and the chocolate milk shake. Boone, foolish boy, had gotten a grilled chicken salad with no dressing. Incomprehensible.

Just as Boone was about to say something, his cell rang, saving her, she felt sure, from a lecture on trans-fats. She half listened as he tried to tell Seth discretely why his phone had been off for most of the day, but mostly she watched Milo, who was fascinated by a Rottweiler’s rear end. Boone’s voice changed so dramatically that she forgot the dogs and zeroed in on the part of the conversation she could hear.

“When?” Boone asked.

She tried to catch his eye, but he was staring at the table, deeply focused and concerned.

“Get everything you can, and get out of there. The police could show up anytime.”

Police? Christie pushed aside the last of her fries as she fell right back into fear mode.

“Good. Check back. Don’t be long.” Boone disconnected the call and looked up at Christie. “Larry’s dead.”

“The hacker?”

He nodded. “He’s been dead for a while. We assume it was Dan’s handiwork, but we can’t be sure. Seth is collecting all the data he can, but the place was trashed so there’s not much.”

“Oh, God. Was he married? Kids?”

“He was divorced, no children. Goddammit, he was a good man. He didn’t deserve that. Listen, we should get going. Lay low until we hear back from Seth.”

She gathered their trash and tossed it while Boone fetched Milo. It was shallow, what with the man’s death, but she couldn’t help but realize that all hope of getting her savings had just died, too.

Boone put his arm around her shoulders as they walked to his truck, which was a comfort, but the news was simply too unsettling, for both of them.

“He was a good friend,” she said.

“Yeah, he was.”

“I’m so sorry, Boone.”

He nodded as he opened the rear door for Milo. “Me, too.”

They drove back in that zigzag way of his, taking side streets and odd turns. Christie watched him as he checked the mirrors. He had to turn more with one eye swollen shut, and she was sorry she’d ever gotten him involved in this mess. “Did they find anything at Dan’s house?”

Boone looked at her, then back at the road. “Not much. No equipment. The only thing that could be something is that he owned a number of properties. One of them isn’t far from where you live.”

“So you think he set up there?”

“Maybe. It makes sense. He had to have listened from somewhere, and he couldn’t have been living in the crawl space.”

She thought about that, about how Dan had been in her house. It was worse than the cameras. And now, to find out he’d killed Boone’s friend…It was insane. How could he have found out what Larry was doing? Where he lived? Probably the same way he’d gotten to the IRS.

“I’ve, uh, got some money put aside,” Boone said. “It’s not a lot, but it should get you through until you can get back on your feet.”

Unexpected tears welled and for a moment she couldn’t speak. She wished she’d brought some tissues, but used her thumbs instead, wiping her cheeks as she tried to get it together. After a couple of false starts, she touched his arm. “Thank you, but I’ll figure it out. I can always be a waitress. I got through college that way, right?”

“Well, it’s there if you want it.”

“I appreciate that more than you can know.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He grabbed her hand and held on to it until they pulled up in front of her house.

Milo raced to the door and waited impatiently for Christie and Boone. She didn’t care. She lingered by the truck until Boone came around. He kissed her, and she wished his mouth wasn’t so sore. When his arm came around her shoulders, she leaned into his body, taking comfort while she still could. They walked slowly, in no hurry to get to the trouble ahead. At least they’d had this amazing day. Something she could look back on when Boone was gone.

They walked in together, Milo squeezing between them, making Christie smile. But as the door closed, Milo stopped, ears up, a low growl setting off her internal alarm. She turned to Boone but she stopped dead still. A man, tall, in an expensive looking suit, walked out of her kitchen. He had a gun and it was pointed at her head.

“Stop right there, Garret,” the man said, “or she dies.”

Christie turned to find another man taking Boone’s gun out of his hand, and a third standing in the living room. “Who are you?” she asked, every bit of the terror she’d known coming back, with interest.

“I think your friend Garret knows the answer to that. Why don’t you two come in and sit down. And Christie, if you don’t control your dog, we will.” He gestured meaningfully with his gun.

Christie, shaking and bewildered, got hold of Milo’s collar and followed Boone to the couch. They’d left the living room light on before dinner, and the men hadn’t turned on any others. She sat as close to Boone as she could and tried to see a way out, but one man, a big guy who looked like a defensive lineman, had them covered from the kitchen door. Another, this one slimmer, but ugly, stood on the other side of the well-dressed man. Both of them had silencers on their weapons, and she could see Boone’s gun sticking out of the waistband of the ugly guy’s pants.

She turned her attention to the talker. “Who’s Garret?”

The man smiled at her, chilling her to her toes. “You mean he hasn’t told you? Your boyfriend here isn’t Boone Ferguson. He’s Garret Edwards, currently wanted by the U.S. government for high treason. Isn’t that right, Garret?”

“I know that’s a lie,” Christie said.

“Of course you do. And I imagine you’re going to tell me that you don’t know where your brother is.” He walked across to the drapes and peeked out between them. When he turned again, his expression had hardened. “So we’ll make this easy.” He nodded at the man by the kitchen. “Gordon.”

Gordon lifted his weapon and before Christie could even gasp, he shot Boone in the thigh. She screamed as Boone slumped forward, his strangled cry tearing into her like a knife.

“What are you doing?” She let go of Milo’s collar to reach for Boone, but the ugly man raised his gun to shoot, and she grabbed Milo before he could get loose. Her dog was insane, barking, lunging at the man who’d shot Boone, but Christie held on.

Boone sat up, his hands pressing tightly on his thigh, which was covered in thick, red blood. He stared at the talking man. “Nate Pratchett is dead.”

The man sighed. “My associate has no qualms about shooting your other thigh. Then your kneecaps. Followed by your shoulders. Are we clear?”

“He is dead,” Christie said, desperate to make him believe her and leave them alone. “I was there. I saw him die in the explosion with my own eyes.”

“Christie, please. Don’t be obtuse. We exhumed the bones. We know your brother wasn’t killed in that explosion. We also know that he has something that doesn’t belong to him, and we want it back.”

“That’s not true,” she said, again.

“Dan,” Boone said, his voice tight with pain. “Dan Prescott was your man.”

“Very good, Garret. Although some of my colleagues thought his approach was too esoteric, I thought it had merit. And in the end, look what it’s brought us. Half your team. I’d say it was quite a success, despite his personal obsession.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” Boone said, his face contorted by old wounds and fresh pain. “She has no idea who any of us are, and she doesn’t know a thing about Nate being alive. Let her go. You have me. You got to Larry. And I’m sure you’ll find Bill and Jamie, if you haven’t already. So let her go.”

“Once more, Christie,” the talker said, moving toward the other end of the living room. He touched a photograph of her family on the mantel. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s buried at the veteran’s cemetery in Westwood.”

“All right,” the man said. “Have it your way.” He turned to the man closest to Boone. “Alex, if you would.”

Alex took a bead on Boone’s other leg, but before he could shoot, Milo ripped his way free and jumped over the coffee table, slamming into the gunman. The weapon dropped as Milo sunk his teeth into the man’s wrist.

Christie didn’t stop to think—she leapt after Milo, landing painfully on her side. She saw the gun and grabbed it, pointing at Alex, who was hitting Milo with both hands.

“Christie!” Boone shouted and she turned in time to see Gordon aim his gun at her dog. She lifted the weapon and squeezed the trigger twice. With surprisingly little noise, Gordon slid down the wall, leaving a wide smear of blood.

Behind her she heard a shout, and when she turned, Boone was on top of the talking man, his blood staining the expensive suit, and they were struggling, turning, so that even when she pointed the gun again, she didn’t dare shoot because she would hit Boone.

Milo’s ferocious growls made her turn. The ugly man’s face was wet with blood, and he was screaming. Behind her, the man by the kitchen was on the ground, and there was blood there, too.

She had to focus, even though she was dizzy and shaking, and she pointed the gun at the man fighting Boone. In the few seconds she’d looked away, Boone had gotten behind him. He had the man in a hammerlock, and Boone bellowed as he twisted the man’s head sharply to the right, the snap so loud she heard it over Milo.

Boone collapsed, writhing as he tried to get the dead weight off him, and then she heard another gunshot, too loud. It was the ugly man. He’d gotten Boone’s gun out and was trying to kill Milo. She aimed, but her tears filled her vision and she couldn’t see, and when she went to wipe them she heard another shot, and oh, God.

But it wasn’t Milo laying still on the floor. It was the ugly man, and the top of his head was blown away. She turned to the front door, to a stranger standing in the shadow, his gun raised. She pointed her weapon, but it was waving so much and she still couldn’t see, but she squeezed the trigger—

“Christie. Stop.”

She held her finger still at Boone’s command.

“Christie,” he said again. “Don’t shoot. It’s Nate.”

SHE DROPPED THE GUN AS HER brother walked slowly closer. He’d changed. His hair, which had always been dark like hers was now almost blond, and there were lines by his eyes and mouth that made him look years older. But it was Nate. He was alive.

“Hey, Chris,” he said, and then he was hugging her, and she was crying on his shoulder, still not believing that it was really him. “Man, I missed you.”

She couldn’t talk so she hit his back with both her fists, the mixture of relief and confusion so strong she felt as if the whole world had gone crazy. “Why? Why did you let me think you were dead?”

“I had to, Chris. I was trying to protect you.” He pulled back, and she saw tears on his cheeks. “I didn’t do a very good job of it, did I?”

“You bastard. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’ll try real hard not to.”

She hugged him again, squeezing hard, but then she thought of Boone, and she broke away.

Boone was still on the floor, pressing his hands into his wound. He was terribly pale. This wasn’t good. “Towels,” she said over her shoulder. “And an ambulance.”

She crouched by Boone. “Baby? Let me help, okay? Can you lay back?”

He shook his head. “Call Harper,” he said, his voice just above a croak.

“Okay, we’ll call whoever you want, but you need to lay back so I can help. We’ve got to stop the bleeding, and the bullet might have gone all the way through.”

He looked at her with reddened eyes, then with a visible effort, he sat up straighter, wincing in pain she couldn’t even imagine.

Nate came back with towels. She gave him a glance when she heard him say, “Hurry,” into a cell phone. He dropped the phone next to him and got to his knees. “Let me.”

Christie crawled around to Boone’s other side, and put her arm around his shoulders. He was heavy as she helped him to his back. She found his hand and squeezed it in hers, praying harder than she ever had before.

Nate cut Boone’s jeans off his bad leg. The bleeding didn’t look too bad, but the wound was terrible. They rolled him over to look at the underside, and when Christie saw the back of his leg, she knew the bullet had passed through.

Nate, moving so quickly it was almost brutal, wrapped Boone’s thigh tightly in two towels, and twisted them together, forming a tourniquet.

“You have any liquor?” Nate asked, not even looking at her.

“Yeah.”

“Get it.”

She hated to let go of Boone’s hand, but she did. She ran to the kitchen, almost tripping over Milo. She got the bottle of bourbon and a glass, and ran back.

Nate threw the glass to the carpet, unscrewed the bottle, and after she got Boone in her arms again, he poured the liquor on the wound. Boone screamed and writhed in her arms.

“Hold him,” Nate said. Then he picked up his cell with his bloody hand and punched in some numbers.

“Seth? Get to Christie’s. Now.” He hung up just as abruptly.

Christie cradled Boone until he stopped moaning, wishing she could do something more. “Should I get some aspirin?” she asked.

“No,” Nate said. “It’s a blood thinner.”

“Where’s the ambulance?”

“No ambulance.” Nate looked at her. “There’s someone coming. Someone we can trust.”

“Nate, he could die.”

“He won’t.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, biting back her argument. It wouldn’t do any good. All she had to do was look around her to see that there was no point. Their lives were in danger every minute, and there was no place that was safe.

“How did you know?” she asked.

For a second, she thought Nate wasn’t going to answer. “I have someone at Omicron.”

“What’s Omicron?”

“These men, they’re Omicron. They’re the one’s who are trying to stop us.”

“Some day you’ll have to explain it all to me,” she said. “But right now, I think Boone’s ready to pass out.”

“That might not be so bad. The doc should be here any minute. She wasn’t that far away.”

Christie bent over Boone. She touched his pale cheek. “You hear that, sweetie? Help’s on the way. Just hold on, okay?”

“So, you two…?” Nate asked.

She nodded. “He saved my life. Big-time.”

“He’s a good man.”

“That’s what he said about you.”

“He’s also crazy.”

She laughed, but stopped it short, afraid she would start crying again. “You let me think you were dead, Nate. All this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry. And I’m even sorrier about what’s going to happen next.”

She looked at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“As soon as Seth and Kate get here, you and I are leaving.”

“No.”

“Yes. There’s no choice in this one, Christie. We’re leaving and we’re not coming back. You take some clothes, and that’s all. Leave your purse, leave your ID, leave it all. You won’t need it.”

She looked at Boone, his eyes closed now, looking so close to death she had to feel for a pulse. It was there. Weak, but there. “I’m not leaving him.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

“To save both your lives.”

“Nate, I can’t do that. I can’t just walk away from everything.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ll help you. I’ll set you up with a new identity, a new job. We’ll get you a place to live. You’ll be fine. You just won’t be Christie Pratchett anymore.”

“What about Mom?”

“You can’t call her. Ever.”

“Jesus, Nate.”

“Would you rather she went to your funeral?”

Christie didn’t know what to say. He was asking too much of her. It wasn’t fair, none of it. Her home, her life. She’d just gotten it back and now it was being ripped into shreds before her eyes. “The police will be after me.”

“There won’t be anything here for them to find. No police report will be filed.”

“And my house?”

“Will go into foreclosure. It’s over. Let it go.”

She laughed, then. “Let it go? Let my whole world go? Just like that?”

“It sucks. I’m sorry. But it’s your only hope.”

She squeezed Boone’s hand again. “I want to go with him. Please, Nate.”

Her brother, looking so old it broke her heart, shook his head. “Say goodbye, Christie. You don’t have much time.”

THE CAR DROVE AWAY SLOWLY. Milo had curled up in the back of the dark sedan, and Christie turned in the passenger seat to stare back at her house. There was only the one light in the shaded window, and she couldn’t even see shadows behind it, but she knew they were there. The doctor, a woman with strange blue eyes. Seth. Kate. And Boone.

He was alive when she’d stepped out the door, but would he be five minutes from now? Ten?

She’d never see him again. Nate said it would all be over someday, but she didn’t believe him. She was lost, as lost as a soul could be. Her heart had been left on a bloody carpet, in a house, in a life she used to love.