Текст книги "The Watcher"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER 53

MARTA TAKES THE GUN OUT OF LILA'S HAND. "Did you think I would let you go that easily?"

Exasperation makes me want to tackle her this very minute, but she's got the gun pressed into Max's spine. As quick as I am, I can't be sure I could knock her away before she pulled that trigger.

The pilot has joined us. He, too, has a gun in his hand. His is bigger. A .45.

I release my impatience in a sigh. "I thought we had a deal, Marta."

She laughs. Not pleasantly. "Oh, we did. But I've come up with a better one. I kill Max and lock you away until the hunger is more than you can bear. Then you may reconsider what I asked of you before."

Max, testing, takes a tiny step forward and turns to me. "What does she want?"

Marta closes the gap between them at once, keeping her gun in contact with Max's back.

She's not taking any chances. I shrug. "Simple. She wants me to make her vampire."

His brows shoot up. "Why would she want that?"

Marta shoves at him in a pique of impatience. "Ask me yourself," she growls.

Max stumbles, fights to regain his balance, tough with the broken ankle. But with the effort, he moves just far enough way from Marta to allow an attack. Marta realizes her mistake almost instantly, but I'm on her before she can correct it. I wrench the gun out of her hand and her injured wrist behind her back. I'm about to leverage the hold when the pilot's gun barks once.

I yank her around in front of me.

The pilot has his gun to Max's head. "The first one was to get your attention. The second will blow your friend's head off if you don't let her go."

His English is heavily accented but very good. He has Max with an arm around his throat. I'm about to release Marta, when Max sends me a look that coupled with a tiny shake of his head, gives me cause to reconsider. He has one hand in the pocket of his jacket; I see his fingers maneuvering the gun.

So does Marta. She starts to yell a warning. I snap her neck with one hand.

The pilot's mouth falls open in shock. But it's momentary. His fingers tighten on the trigger. Max slumps into him and in that same moment, fires the Derringer through the fabric of his pocket.

The pilot staggers backward, looking down at his mid-section in disbelief.

The Derringer is a .22 and even a contact gut shot is very rarely fatal. The pilot raises the .45. Max whirls around, the gun now out, and follows up quickly with a round to the head.

That does it. The pilot goes down like a rock.

Lila and Pedro are screaming. I toss Marta's body toward them and scramble to pick up Lila's gun and the pilot's .45.

It's not until the adrenaline has stopped pumping that the reality of the situation hits.

"Max," I yelp. "You killedthe pilot. How the fuck are we going to get out of here?"

For the first time, I get a realsmile out of Max. "How do you think," he says. "We fly."

"You know how to fly a helicopter?"

"Don't sound so shocked."

"But you never told me you could fly a helicopter."

"You never told me you were a vampire. I think your secret trumps mine."

We hold this conversation as we make our way toward the helicopter. Max pauses at the hatch. "What do we do about those two?"

I turn back to look at Lila and Pedro. They are prostate with grief over Maria's death. Lila is on the ground, holding Marta and rocking her body as if it were a child's. Pedro is standing over them both, tears streaming down his face. Neither looks in our direction.

"Leave them."

If the coldness of my reply fazes Max, he doesn't show it. He doesn't argue, either. He merely reaches into the copter and picks up the pilot's helmet.

He hands me one, too, and a leather jacket that was slung onto one of the rear seats. I look at it for a minute.

He raises an eyebrow. "You're dressed in a torn sheet."

I'd forgotten all about it. I slip on the jacket and zip it up. It falls to above my knees. I reach underneath and pull the sheet out and drop it on the ground.

I help Max climb aboard. I take the seat beside him in front. He fires up the engine and the rotors spring to life. In a few minutes, we're in the air.

I don't bother to look back.

CHAPTER 54

IT'S TOO QUIET, MAX IS CONCENTRATING UNNECESSARILY hard on the controls and I on the view outside the windshield. I know why. There's a lot Max and I have to discuss, I feel the tension like a third passenger. But I think we're afraid to begin. Afraid of the questions, afraid of the answers.

Max radios ahead once we're in the air and asks to be patched through to SDPD. He hands me the radio when the connection is made and Williams takes my call. I tell him only that we're on our way to Tijuana. He says he'll dispatch a car for us and rings off. Abruptly. No questions about how we are, no demand for details.

And there's something in the tone of his voice– concern, uneasiness—that makes me wonder what it is he isn'ttelling me. Something about Culebra, maybe? Or Burke?

The silence between Max and me is becoming oppressive. When I can stand it no longer, I turn to Max. "How did you end up at Martinez'? Was it Foley?"

He shakes his head. "Martinez got a message to me right after you left to meet David. Through a contact in Mexico. Said he wanted to meet."

"And you went? Just like that?"

He pauses, looks over at me. "Of course not. He said he knew about you. That if I didn't come, he'd put out a hit on you. Thatwe can blame on Foley. Of course, it backfired on him. He never thought Martinez would use the information he was feeding him to come after me himself."

"But he did."

"Sent the helicopter to pick me up at the border. When Foley found out that Martinez had me, he went ballistic. Came to the compound and demanded to be paid. By this time, though, Martinez had come up with his new plan. Seemed killing me wasn't going to be enough. He wanted to make sure I felt the same pain he did. By killing someone close to me. By killing you."

"I knew Foley was following me. He could have picked me up a dozen times. Why did he choose Burke's little shindig? What connection did he have with witchcraft?"

Max shrugs. "I don't think he did. Marta came up with the plan to lure you to some sort of black magic ritual. And she knew Burke had a connection with Culebra." His voice takes on a cautious tone. "Of course, I knew you had a connection to Culebra, too. I just didn't know what kind of connection until now."

His tone is heavy with meaning. I wait for him to ask the questions he must want to. But when he doesn't, I break the silence by asking, "What happened to your ankle?"

"Broke it the first day I was there. Trying to escape. Fell down those fucking stairs. Don't remember much else after that. Foley kept me drugged up until I came to and you were there."

I'm doing a little mental calculation. "And you're sure it was Foley with you?"

He nods. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure he was there the whole time. Why?"

It's clear now why Williams sounded strange on the phone. He knows my anonymous caller wasn't Foley. It couldn't have been. He was too busy torturing Max to be following me around.

So who the hell was it who made the calls? And shot Alan? And why wouldn't Williams have told me when he had me on the radio?

"Anna?"

Max's voice pulls me back.

"What's wrong?"

I see no use in holding back. "Remember when I told you I thought Foley might be following me? That he was trying to get me to lead him to you?"

He nods. "What about it?"

"Well, the calls continued. From what you just said, it couldn't have been Foley. But somebody wasfollowing me. He even shot a guy I was fighting."

"A guy you were fighting? As in apprehending?"

"Kind of. Anyway, that's not important. What is important is each time he contacted me he said something like, 'tell your boyfriend.' That's why I was so sure it was Foley. I thought he was talking about you."

I feel Max bristle. "And he wasn't? How many boyfriends do you have?"

"Max, you're missing the point. If the caller wasn't Foley and you aren't the boyfriendhe was referring to, who is? Williams sounded really strange on the radio. I've got a bad feeling."

He asks in a quiet voice, "You think it might be David?"

I nod. "He's the only other man I know that I'm seen with on a regular basis." I, of course, leave off the nonhuman species. No need to go into that with Max.

"Any idea who you've so thoroughly pissed off recently that he'd go after you like this?"

"No." It's true. Tuturo and Guzman were captured with very little trouble. The thing that happened with Alan was unexpected and spur of the moment. It doesn't make sense.

"We'll be at the airport in a few minutes," Max is saying. "If Williams is there, we'll get the answers."

He says we'llget answers. It's oddly reassuring. I had the feeling the moment this helicopter touched down would be the last moment I spent with Max.

CHAPTER 55

MAX AND I HARDLY SAY TWO MORE WORDS TO each other the rest of the flight. But it's not awkward, the way it was when we first took off. It's strange that we should be united in our concern over a man Max barely knows.

When the copter touches down, it's met with a contingent of police vehicles, Mexican and American. I don't know what Williams told the Federales to allow American access, but whatever it was, it worked. We're whisked away first into a terminal building where Max is questioned briefly by Mexican officials, then their DEA counterparts. He gives them coordinates to Martinez' jungle compound. I'm allowed to stay with him though no one directs questions to me.

There is a Mexican female officer who, seeing my wardrobe predicament, produces a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from somewhere, along with, even more remarkably, underwear that actually fits. I accept them gratefully and duck into a restroom to change. When I come out, she hands me a pair of huaraches. The sandals have obviously been worn, but anything's better than going home barefoot. I slip them on and offer her the jacket in exchange. She takes it.

Because he is hurt, Max is released fairly quickly. He declares his intention to seek medical aid in the United States, and within an hour, we're bundled into the back of a SDPD car.

Williams has not come to meet us.

Ortiz is the driver of the black-and-white. He waits for us to get settled in the back before turning in the seat to greet us. He glances with concern at Max's splinted ankle. "Are you in much pain?" he asks.

Max shakes his head. "I'm fine. Have you heard anything about Anna's partner, David? Does he know she's okay?"

Ortiz raises an eyebrow and looks at me. How does he know?

The question confirms my worst suspicions. "Did something happen to David?" I reply bluntly and out loud. "Tell us. Quickly."

Ortiz frowns. "I am sorry to be the one to tell you," he says. "But something did happen while you were gone. David is dead."

CHAPTER 56

MAX GRABS MY HAND AND SQUEEZES. "JESUS, Anna. I'm so sorry."

I'm staring at Ortiz. This isn't right. David dead? Williams would never have sent Ortiz or anyone else to relay that news. He, better than anyone, knows what I went through to save David's life when Avery attacked him. He knows how important David is to me.

You are lying. Why?

Ortiz shifts uneasily in the seat and reaches to put the car in gear.

I stop him by grabbing the back of his neck. Tell me the truth.

Max reacts to this with a sharp intake of breath. "Anna, what are you doing?"

Ortiz pulls against my grip. I work my fingers tight around his throat. He manages to gasp, No one else is to know.

I release him. "Max is my friend. He can be trusted." I deliberately say it out loud. Max's eyes are wide with shock. He's trying to figure out what Ortiz did to set me off. I don't want to shock him further by admitting that Officer Ortiz is a vampire, too, and we can communicate without using our voices.

Better to bluff.

"I had a feeling he wasn't telling us the truth. He's going to take us to David now."

I avoid looking at Max when I say it. It's bad enough to feel his confusion—it's thick in the air—I don't have to see it, too. The silence is, once again, no longer comfortable between us.

Ortiz is silent, too. I don't attempt to apologize. He lied about David. Even if he'd had orders to do so in front of Max, he could have told me the truth telepathically.

Our ride ends at County General Hospital in Hillcrest.

Not the thing to inspire my confidence.

The moment I pass through the doors, I'm assaulted by the smell and feel of the place. Blood and desperation. My stomach begins to churn. I was brought here to recover from the attack of the vampire who sired me. Even after all these months, the memories are painful and intense. The doctor who treated me, Avery. All that happened after.

"Anna?"

Max's voice penetrates the veil.

I look up at him, realizing then, that I had come to a stop just inside the doors. His eyes are questioning.

"Are you all right?"

I shake off the fog of despair that descended so rapidly and without warning and release a breath. "Yes. Do you want to go to emergency while I check on David? You have to have that ankle attended to."

He waves off the suggestion. At the same time, I realize that someone has given him a pair of crutches. I don't know when that happened. It must have been while I was lost in my own black trip down memory lane.

Ortiz follows us inside and hands me a slip of paper. David's room number. "He's registered as Richard Smith," he says. He points us toward the elevator and when I turn to thank him, he's already headed for the door. His stride is stiff, angry.

I don't care.

The elevator whisks us up seven floors and when the doors slide open, we find ourselves in a critical care unit. Once again, that queasy feeling returns. David may not be dead, but he must be hurt pretty badly to be here.

A placard near the elevator declares that all visitors must check in at the nurse's station. When we do, Max is questioned about his own condition and if he should be on his feet. He is blunt in his insistence that he is all right. A nurse is just as insistent that he use a wheelchair and it's only after she refuses to point us to David's room, that he reluctantly agrees.

I wait through this exchange with an uncharacteristic patience. I am afraid. Afraid to see what has been done to David. Afraid to acknowledge that I must accept responsibility for whatever it is.

I left him alone.

When Max is in the chair, we are allowed to proceed down the hall.

Room 718.

The door is closed. There's a uniformed cop sitting on a metal chair. He's got a radio and at our approach, he stands and motions us to the door. "Williams says it's okay for you to go in."

I peek through the glass window.

Relief surges through me like a rush of adrenaline.

He's sitting up in bed.

No tubes. No life monitoring equipment.

I peer into the corners of the room.

No Gloria.

Hallelujah.

David is alone and breathing on his own. How bad can it be?

CHAPTER 57

I HAVE MY HAND ON THE DOORKNOB WHEN MAX stops me by placing his hand over mine.

"Does he know?" he asks.

It takes a beat or two for me to connect the dots. "Oh. Does David know about me?”I shake my head. "No. You are the only one who knows."

The only human who knows, that is. But I don't want to complicate things.

He doesn't look as if he believes me. "Look, Max, I know you have questions. I'm sorry. I'll try to answer them in time."

He's looking in at David now. He nods. "You're right. I'll wait. I think I deserve some answers, though."

"And you'll get them. I promise. Can we go in?"

He lets his hand drop. I take that as a "yes" and push at the door.

I make sure Max's chair clears the door before rushing around him to do something I've only done once before in our acquaintance. I hug David. A hug meant to convey relief, apology and remorse.

Not that David realizes any of that.

He merely accepts the hug as a gesture from a friend without comment before extricating himself gingerly from my clinging arms.

"Careful," he warns. He points in the direction of his left shoulder. "Stitches."

I jump back. "God. Sorry. What happened? What's with the cop outside?"

But David is looking at Max. "The better question is what happened to you two? Max, you look worse than I feel."

Max waves the comment off with the back of his hand. "Long story. Anna has been worried sick since we heard about you. Better fill her in."

I pull a chair up to David's bedside and sit my butt down. "Tell us."

David frowns down at me. "First, I owe you an apology"

"An apology?"

He nods. "I should have told you something days ago. I don't know why I didn't. It's not like you can't take care of yourself."

My brief flirtation with patience comes to a screeching halt. "Damn it—" I almost say his name. I have to bite it off at the last minute. "Get on with it. What happened?"

He smiles at the outburst. "Glad to see you aren't treating me with kid gloves just because I happen to be in the hospital with a gunshot wound."

I start to jump up and he waves me back down. "Okay, okay. I got shot. Two days ago. High-powered rifle. Another inch to the left and I'd be dead. But I must have a guardian angel because nothing vital was hit and I woke up to find myself here. The docs say I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

He nods.

"Then why all the subterfuge?"

"Williams' idea," he says. "Before the shooting, I'd been getting calls. Somebody threatening to do me bodily harm. But after each call, the guy would say, 'tell your girlfriend.' "

My shoulders jump.

David sees it. Again, he misunderstands. "I know. I should have told you. But I thought he was referring to Gloria. So naturally, I assumed it was some kind of publicity stunt. Especially with the opening of the restaurant and all. I even made Gloria double the security for that night. But then I got shot before the opening." He lifts his good shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm no closer to figuring out what it's all about now than I was before. But I should have told you what was happening. You could have been with me when I was shot. Hell, you might have taken the bullet instead of me. I had no right to keep something so important from you."

Max is looking at me. I feel it. He's waiting for me to take that cue. When I don't right away, he makes a sound in his throat. "I'm going to leave you two," he says. "I think it's time I get this ankle tended to." He reaches out a hand and David takes it. "Glad it's not more serious," he says. His gaze fixes on me. "See you later, Anna?"

I avoid his eyes but nod. I'm not anxious to admit to David that I, too, have been keeping secrets. Lots of them.

Max wheels himself out of the room. When the door has swished to a close behind him, David says quietly, "I really am sorry, Anna. I jumped on you for the way things have been between us, and I'm the one who hasn't been honest."

Again, my cue to jump in. Again, I find myself holding back. Why?

I reach up and smooth a bit of the sheet. A delaying tactic.

To declare David dead is pretty dramatic. How is Williams going to explain when David miraculously reappears? I can't help but feel he did it not to protect David but to protect me. There's one way to find out.

"So Williams has you here because he thinks the guy might take another shot at you?"

"Or you."

I hate being right about this.

"Must have made a big splash in the papers, though. Local jock killed. How was it handled? Was there a funeral?"

He shakes his head. "Small private service. I'm not the headliner you seem to think."

"No, but Gloria sure is. I assume she knows you're alive."

I expect a big smile and some lame explanation that she's spent the last two days fretting and crying at his bedside.

Instead, he frowns and his shoulders bunch.

"She knows. But she hasn't been here since the shooting."

That reply is so unexpected, my hand freezes on the sheet. I'm ready to yell, good riddance, but the expression on his face is too full of pain for me to actually say it out loud.

Doesn't mean I'm about to let the opportunity slip by without some comment, though.

I resume my sheet fluffing. “That's a surprise. Is she in protective custody? I can't imagine she'd pass off a photo op as juicy as mourning at your graveside."

David grabs my hand. "You can stop now. For whatever reason, Gloria isn't here. I don't expect her to show up anytime soon. Can we get back to the important topic? Someone was out to get me and if Gloria isn't the 'girlfriend' this guy is referring to, there's only one other woman I spend any time with."

"Me."

He nods. "You."

This is like an echo of the conversation I had with Max. But it also triggers a memory, a bad memory. The incident that landed me in Palm Canyon to begin with. I blow out a breath. "Is that why you said what you did after the Guzman thing?"

He looks glum.

"You wanted me out of the way in case that guy came after you." I let a beat go by before asking, "You weren't really planning a move to L.A., were you?"

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Jesus. I hitch my chair closer to the bed. It's time I replaced some of his guilt with a much healthier emotion—anger. "You are probably going to want to shoot mewhen you hear what I have to say."

He gives me an inquisitive half smile and gestures for me to go on.

"I've been getting calls, too."

The smile morphs into an incredulous frown.

"I know. I know. I should have told you. But I thought it was someone trying to trick me into leading him to Max. It wasn't until—" I stop myself. Do I want to get into the witch thing and Foley and Martinez and all that happened in Mexico?

No. I backtrack with a sharp intake of breath. "Anyway, I realized that wasn't the case. And when Max and I were talking about it, the same thing dawned on us that dawned on you. Whoever is doing this thought youwere my boyfriend. It wasn't about Max at all."

He leans his head back against the headboard. "Anyone take a shot at you?"

I think back to what happened in the desert. Another subject best kept for later. "No."

David drums his fingers on the bedclothes. "What about that incident in Palm Canyon?"

So much for that. "You saw the paper." Not a question.

He nods and adds sharply, "Right before you disappeared. Called you a hero for going to the aid of that woman when her maniac husband attacked her. The big mystery, though, was who shot that maniac husband."

He pauses, waits for me to say something. When I don't, he continues, sounding peeved. "I must have called Williams a dozen times when I heard what you'd been involved in. All he would say was you were all right and needed a little time away. He made it sound like it was my fault."

He stops suddenly, inhales deeply, as if struck by a sharp pain.

I touch his arm. "Are you okay?"

He lets the breath out through his nose, inhales again. His right hand reaches for his shoulder.

"David?" I whisper it, realize my mistake, flinch. I glance around the room like an idiot. Who the hell could be eavesdropping on us here?

He shakes his head. "I'm all right. Chest gets tight when I get…"

He doesn't complete the thought. I can fill in any number of words: exasperated, angry, frustrated, confused. I know because I can see it all on his face.

I start to stand up. "Maybe I should go."

He grabs my hand. "Sit down."

I don't want to upset him any more than I already have so I do.

When his face clears of the pain, I ask, "Did forensics compare the bullets?"

He nods. And his next words confirm what I already suspect.

"The bullet that killed that guy in Palm Canyon is a match to the one they took out of me."