Читать книгу Storm Clouds - Cheryl Wolverton - Страница 11

The fuss over her pistol was not the most auspicious start to Angelina Harding’s flight. They’d made her check it—fortunately she had a smaller bag she could unzip from her backpack and check.

She’d gotten no sleep on the ride over, but she needed to be here for her brother.

Oh, how she wanted to be back in Pride, Louisiana, the tiny little town with a population of less than one hundred. She’d lived there for three wonderful years, with several of her friends who’d started a security firm. She liked it there in the small town, and she didn’t want to venture out into the real world.

But what could she do when she got the call…a call she hadn’t expected? She hadn’t talked to her brother in over fifteen years, and he needed her help.

Stepping into the cool air of Australia, she realized she hadn’t dressed for spring but late summer.

It was hot as an oven in Baton Rouge.

And it was just finishing winter here.

She shivered and cupped her hand over her eyes to glance toward the sunny sky. Wearily she grabbed a handful of her dark hair, tied it in a knot at her neck and then released it when she realized it had been shading the back of her neck.

Taking a deep breath, she paused to slip her pistol back into her ankle holster, rearrange her backpack and find the paper containing the information she’d jotted down about her brother.

Her internal clock told her it should be nighttime.

Her brother had said catch a plane to Sydney—and to hurry. Like she should drop everything for him. Glancing around, she noted the cars driving on the wrong side of the road.

She’d been so angry with her brother when he’d become a Christian nearly twenty years ago and decided to move to Australia….

She shook her head as she watched the hustle and bustle. Same as in any city but different too. Not seeing her brother, she started down the sidewalk looking for any sign of him. Bitterness nipped at her as she remembered her one visit to Australia when she was sixteen. She’d come here to see her brother.

He had sent her back home, telling her she shouldn’t have stolen money from her uncle and should have gotten his permission.

Permission!

She’d hated her brother for not letting her stay, and yet, he was her brother and when he called, she couldn’t ignore him as he had her.

Oh, man, she didn’t want to be here. Maybe Providence had been trying to keep her from coming. Maybe she should have turned around and left when the airline had hassled her about the gun.

The beep of a horn when she accidentally stepped out in front of a taxi brought her back to the present.

She hated Australia.

Or at least hated what it stood for.

Where was her brother?

Glancing around at the noisy area, she only wanted to be somewhere else.

Her brother’s decision to leave her in that forsaken place they’d both called home—at the mercy of her drunken uncle—had stuck with her all these years, haunting her dreams at night when she was all alone in the dark, scary night.

Her brother had left her because he felt called to become a missionary out in the bush of Australia—to start up a church. But in leaving to follow his calling, he’d left her to fend for herself. He didn’t mind being alone. She wouldn’t have minded being alone either. It would have been better than dealing with her uncle.

She didn’t like to remember that time of her life, but coming to Australia forced those memories back into the forefront of her mind.

She hadn’t talked to her brother in years because of that incident. She hadn’t seen him either.

And now he was in trouble.

Deciding her brother had forgotten to pick her up, she looked for a taxi to hail.

“Angelina Harding?”

She heard her name called and, in surprise, turned.

A man of medium build, dark hair, dark trousers and shirt stood about ten feet away. She was used to cataloguing whomever she met because of her training. A small mole under his right eyebrow barely showed above the sunglasses he wore.

“That would be me,” she acknowledged, noting he stood near a large sedan with a driver in it. She couldn’t see much else through the tinted windows.

“Your brother sent us.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she glanced at the car again. “He must be doing better than I realized,” she muttered to the man, feeling that much more angry and put out by her brother. Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, because she refused to pack more than one small case when she traveled, she headed toward the car.

“Let me take your bag,” the man murmured and reached out for it.

She shook her head and cradled the bag closer, wrapping her arms around it. “I’m fine.”

His hand brushed her side and she stepped away, not liking to be touched and wondering if all were so informal here.

Curious, she glanced at him but he’d turned away.

She sighed.

Her shoulders hurt, her neck ached. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, nap and try to adjust to the time change. “I can’t believe it,” she said as she climbed into the back seat. “He called me and demanded I show up here. Said he had to talk to me. Do you know what I dropped to be here?” She knew the man wasn’t listening as he closed the door.

He hesitated again then climbed into the front. Okay, so she was being a grouch and she realized it. But seeing this car really ticked her off. How could her brother afford something like this? It just went to show her that he was so high and mighty now, he expected to have everyone at his beck and call.

She sagged back against the soft cushions of the expensive car.

When someone makes it sound like a matter of life and death, it usually means there is something serious the matter, she thought, disgruntled. She’d been in the Secret Service and didn’t throw terms like that around idly. In frustration, she closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat. She had really expected him to be the one to meet her at the airport. And losing it wasn’t going to help the situation. She had decided to come down here, after all, so whatever happened was just going to happen.

She’d gotten a quick look at the driver as she’d crawled in. He was dressed the same as his companion. She saw in the rearview mirror his blue eyes, however. Very blue. Bluer than the Australian sky.

The buttery leather cushioned her body and invited her to rest. When had Marcus been able to afford such a car? And why had he sent a car for her instead of picking her up himself?

The car pulled smoothly out of the airport and headed out of town. Angelina swayed with the motion of the vehicle. She rested and allowed her aching body to ease as they got under way.

And as they drove, her mind drifted to her brother. All of those years ago he’d lived in a tiny ranch house, no air conditioning, dusty, out in the middle of nowhere. He’d had a group of people who lived with him. Marcus had planned to start up a school for children out in the area. He had even bought a van to pick them up. They were scraping by, but her brother had been so excited. This was his calling as he’d labeled it.

Some calling, she thought sourly. Going out into the middle of nowhere to teach kids with an accent.

There were plenty of kids in America with accents if that’s what he liked.

She knew she was bitter. But she’d needed her brother, and he hadn’t been there. However, he needed her now and she was determined she’d be there for him. Regardless.

When her friend Joshua Staring had started a new security firm in his hometown of Baton Rouge, it had sounded like just what she wanted—what she needed. It was her calling, she thought sourly. After all, one could only take so much adrenaline rush, and when the vice-president had almost been shot under her watch, that was it for her. She was glad to be working for Joshua. Mostly.

Angelina frowned and adjusted in her seat when they hit a bump, realizing she’d dozed a bit.

She had many friends in Baton Rouge at the security firm, but most of them were Christians now, and she just didn’t fit in with their beliefs. Just like her brother. They thought one way and she another, because she knew the harsh reality of life.

The smell of aftershave reached her nostrils, distracting her from her thoughts. Her brow creased as she forced herself into a more conscious state. Her sour mood faded as she concentrated on the smell. She couldn’t remember the name but knew it was quite expensive.

Something niggled at her. Expensive car, expensive cologne. What was her brother into?

Cracking open her eyelid she glanced again at the two men in the front seats; neither had said a word. As she did, she noted something else. She’d been daydreaming longer than she realized for they were now outside of town. And the sun was on the wrong side of the car.

They were headed in the wrong direction.

Angelina might have only been here one other time, but she knew her directions.

Alarm bells went off inside her. “Um, excuse me,” she said to draw the attention of the man in the front seat. “How long before we get to where my brother is?”

The man shrugged. “Thirty minutes.” Then a window between them slowly rose.

Now fully alert, she sat up. She did her best to keep her expression nonchalant as she glanced out the window because she saw the driver watching her closely. She nodded. “No problem. It’s been many years. Just wondered.”

Something wasn’t right, and she knew if she didn’t get out of the car, she wasn’t going to see her brother.

Call it instinct. Call it woman’s intuition. Call it experience. She knew that when her insides screamed danger like this, it meant listen up.

There was nothing near the car. Mountains in the distance and desert on either side. She knew Australia wasn’t like this everywhere and wondered why her brother had chosen such a place to work. He’d told her it had its own beauty.

Right now, it only looked deserted to her. If she tried to escape she just knew that these men had guns and would shoot her.

No one else was in sight for miles.

What was she going to do?

If she were Josh, she’d pray, but then she didn’t do that. Her friend back home was always telling her she needed to lean on God. She’d seen too much to believe that.

She needed to think.

And then she saw it.

In the distance, from a road crossing through the rocky terrain, a dust trail arose.

Someone was approaching. She forced herself to stay totally relaxed so not to alert the men in the front seat.

Studying them, she noted the looks they exchanged and knew beyond any doubt that these men weren’t from her brother. Had she not been so immersed in her own memories, her instincts would have alerted her much sooner. The dust trail might be her only chance of escape.

If she could time it just right, she could get away and possibly live to find out what was going on.

She leaned back and closed her eyes to slits so the driver would relax his vigil. And she waited.

As they drove onward down the road, the dust trail got closer.

It seemed like hours, but she knew better. A minute, maybe two at most had crept past.

And then they were approaching the place the other vehicle would cross. It wasn’t really a road, but more ruts in a dusty trail. She could see the Jeep now plainly.

Taking a quick breath, she wrapped her hand around her backpack, inching her other hand to where she kept her pistol.

When the car was just where it needed to be, she acted. With a quick motion, she pulled out her 9 mm and shot the window to her side. Throwing up her feet, she slammed them into the shattered glass.

She felt the jolt of the car as the driver jerked the wheel in surprise, heard the shouts and the sound of the window between them starting down.

She didn’t wait, but pulled her feet under her and shoved herself out the small open space.

Her body hit the hard ground, bouncing painfully over sticks and rocks and whatever else they had out there in the brush as she rolled away from the car. And she lost her gun in the process.

The Jeep swerved, nearly hitting her. The sound of tires squealing, rocks and dust flying, the taste of dirt and smell of fuel all filled the air.

The car she’d bailed out of skidded to a stop, its tires a deeper shriek.

She didn’t wait to see what they’d do. With a fast glance around, she noted her pistol wasn’t in sight. Growling in frustration, she shoved against the rough dried-out brush as she staggered to her feet, feeling fire blazing down her right arm and right hip where she’d hit the ground. It didn’t slow her down, however, as she sprinted across the uneven ground toward the stunned driver of the Jeep.

“Are you all right?” the stranger asked, jumping out of his vehicle and heading toward her.

“Drive!” she shouted and leapt for the car.

Bullet holes appeared in the front panel of the vehicle.

The blond man’s eyes widened and he bounded back around to the driver’s side and piled in.

Only then did she realize it was some sort of official vehicle.

Shots rang out again.

“If you don’t get going we’re both going to be dead!”

“Where?” With a sharp twist of the wheel, he jammed it into gear and spun it away from the danger, not waiting for an answer as he turned.

“Away from them!” She started searching for anything to shoot back at the car.

The man didn’t hesitate, but popped the car into gear and tore off back the way he’d come.

Angelina flew back into the seat, her head landing with a thud against the headrest. A grunt escaped her. At least he was driving now.

The other car peeled out and she knew that the chase had just begun.

And once again, she wondered just what her brother had gotten himself involved in. If they didn’t escape these men, she wasn’t going to find out.