Smoke Screen

CHAPTER 25

THE MAROON CAR HAD BEEN LEFT IN A PUBLIC PARKING LOT two blocks off King Street. Because of the traffic, Raley was able to go slow and keep well back until the pair retrieved their car. He followed them out of the historic district, and then several miles along a major boulevard to an older Holiday Inn.

“Assassins on a budget,” Britt said.

“No, they’re charging the client three times what the rooms cost.”

The hotel had two levels of rooms accessed by open-air corridors. The men parked their car steps away from rooms on the ground floor. Watching from a strip-center parking lot across the busy, divided thoroughfare, Raley and Britt saw the driver, the one they called Butch, open the trunk and remove a duffel bag.

She said, “That looks heavy.”

“Tools of their trade.”

Thoughtfully she asked, “That night on the road, why didn’t they just shoot me?”

“The risk of leaving evidence. The timing.”

“Two homicides so close together, mine and Jay’s, our being friends, that would have roused suspicion.”

“Your murder might not have passed as a random act of violence. Better that it take days, weeks maybe, for some poor fisherman to discover your car with you inside.”

“And then it would have appeared I’d killed myself.”

“Right. Then if you had remembered something Jay told you, and had passed it along to someone else, it could be discredited and dismissed.”

“The ramblings of a distraught woman about to take her own life.”

“Exactly.”

“They’re very clever, aren’t they?”

Her serious tone of voice brought his head around. “Very.”

The two men went into neighboring rooms. Butch kept the duffel bag with him. “He must be the senior partner,” Raley said. “Or maybe just the best shot.”

Britt asked, “Now what?”

After taking a glance around, he said, “Keep an eye on their rooms. Signal me if they come out.” He pushed open the car door.

“Where are you going?”

“To call Candy before it gets any later.” He pointed toward a telephone booth at the far end of the shopping center. “Since the booth is still there, I’m thinking the phone will be working.”

“Let’s drive over.”

He shook his head. “We couldn’t see their rooms as well. Stay put. Watch those rooms.”

“You’ll be exposed. They could see you.”

“They’re not looking. But just in case…” Holding the pistol by the barrel, he extended it to her. “You keep this.”

She recoiled. “Leave it on the seat.”

He got out and carefully set the pistol on the driver’s seat, then set off across the parking lot at a jog. Despite what he’d told Britt, he didn’t like being so exposed. He stepped into the phone booth but didn’t close the door, so the light wouldn’t come on. Fortunately the telephone was still there. Even more of a break, it was in working order. He’d come up with a pocketful of change.

Candy answered his call on the first ring. “Where have you been? I was beginning to think that you’d come to your senses and weren’t going to call back.”

He plugged his ear with his index finger to help filter out the swishing noise of traffic. “I got tied up. Sorry I kept you up late. What have you got for me?”

“An appointment with Fordyce.”

He was stunned. He hadn’t admitted, even to himself, that she might manage to pull it off. “No shit?”

“Oh he shit, all right. At least I’m fairly sure he did. He was having no part of it at first, but I eventually wore him down. I told him he was lucky you hadn’t accosted him at Jay’s funeral like you did George. I advised him as a former colleague that he should talk to you in private before you did something very public and probably crazy. He’s expecting you to be just shy of a complete mental case, so hopefully your reasonable state of mind will come as a pleasant surprise.” She hesitated, then said, “You aren’t a mental case, are you?”

“No. Just a man with a mission.”

“Same as,” she muttered.

“What time?”

“Eleven o’clock. His office. Check in with the guard. A page will escort you.”

“Candy, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say good night,” she said querulously. “I’ve got back-to-back interviews all day tomorrow and need to go to bed. I’m retaining fluid because I never have time to pee, so my eyes are already puffy. Don’t even get me started on my ankles.”

He smiled at the picture she painted. “I owe you. Huge.”

“Red and white.”

“What?”

“When you come to dinner next week, you have to bring both colors of wine. And no cheap stuff.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And, Raley.”

“Yeah?”

“Hold his feet to the fire. Pun intended.”

“What time?” Britt asked when Raley returned to the car with the good news.

“Eleven o’clock. His office.”

“I’m surprised. I hoped he would agree to see you, but I doubted he would.”

“Frankly, so did I. Maybe he’s got bigger cojones than I give him credit for.”

“It’s easy to be brave when you’re inside a guarded government office.” She gazed thoughtfully at the maroon sedan parked outside the rooms at the Holiday Inn. “Or when you have someone fighting your battles for you.”

She repeated the statement to herself and realized how accurately it applied to her. Acting on impulse and before she could change her mind, she opened her car door and stepped out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Britt?”

Ignoring him, she ran toward the busy boulevard, calling to him over her shoulder. “If something happens, drive away and call Detective Clark.”

“Britt!”

“Drive away.”

Her timing couldn’t have been better. Just as she reached the curb, there was a break in the traffic. She sprinted across two lanes, the dividing median, and then the other two lanes, and came out on the sidewalk bordering the parking lot of the Holiday Inn.

She didn’t dare look back at Raley, fearing that he would be in hot pursuit. Instead she continued moving purposefully across the parking lot toward the two rooms with the familiar car parked in front of them.

She couldn’t positively identify it as the car that had forced hers off the road and into the river. But she couldn’t eliminate it, either. She also knew that at least one of these men had been at The Wheelhouse, where she had been drugged. All circumstantial, but awfully suspicious.

What she knew with certainty was that they had searched Raley’s cabin and truck yesterday, and that they had doggedly followed him from Jay’s funeral, indicating that they were men whose purpose was shady, and possibly deadly. Nor did she believe for a moment that their being at the notable gay bar tonight was happenstance. Whether they were allies or enemies of Pat Wickham’s, their intentions were contradictory to hers and Raley’s.

The bastards had this coming.

Keeping her eyes trained on the windows and doors of the two rooms, she cautiously approached the car. She glanced around to make certain that no other guests or hotel employees were in sight or looking out the windows.

Seeing no one, she crouched down behind the sedan. The lights were still on inside both rooms. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the windows. At any second the door of either room could have burst open. The occupants might even have been able to hear her heart pounding.

She crept to the left rear tire and ran her fingers along the rim until she located the air valve stem and hastily twisted off the cap. Clutching it in her hand, she duckwalked to the front tire.

She could hear the sound track of a TV sitcom coming from one of the rooms. Had the curtain moved, or was that her imagination? Was the air-conditioning unit beneath the window causing the curtain to flutter?

Her nervous fingers found the valve of the front tire and removed the cap. Her thighs were burning by the time she duckwalked the length of the car and around the back of it, then up to the right front tire. She twisted off that cap. The fourth and last one was more stubborn than the others. She was sweating and the pads of her fingers were rubbed raw from the effort by the time she got it off.

Then, holding all four in a tight fist, she stood up.

In the same instant, the door of one of the rooms was pulled open.

Instinctually she whipped her head around.

Sundance was framed in the open doorway. He was barefoot, still wearing his trousers, but he had replaced the dress shirt he’d worn into the nightclub with a white T-shirt. The tail of it was neatly tucked into his waistband. It was a ridiculous thing to note at a time like this, but irrationally it flashed through her mind how silly and uncomfortable that looked.

He was holding a plastic ice bucket, which he dropped the instant he spotted her, and reached for a shoulder holster that wasn’t there, shouting, “Hold it!”

She did the opposite. She turned and ran for her life. She expected to see Raley waiting anxiously inside the gray sedan across the boulevard. But neither he nor the car was where she’d left them.

Behind her, she heard pounding, and figured Sundance was beating on his partner’s door. He yelled, “Get out here!”

She didn’t stop to look back but ran headlong toward the street, not even knowing in which direction to go. Where was Raley? She had told him to drive away if anything happened, but she really hadn’t expected him to desert her.

She thought she heard one of the men call her name, but she didn’t need to look back to know that they were hotfooting it and closing in fast. She could hear the slaps of bare feet on pavement, their huffing breaths, cursing.

She leaped off the sidewalk directly into the path of an oncoming car and managed to jump back only a nanosecond away from being struck. The driver blasted his horn. It deafened her to the approach of the car that screeched to a stop within inches behind her, nearly shaving the jeans off her butt.

“Britt!”

She whirled around. Raley had pulled the car between her and the two men. Seeing the pistol aimed at them through the open driver’s window, they skidded to a stop. “Back up or you’re dead!” Raley shouted. They started yelling at him, but he was gunning the motor of the sedan to a roar while keeping his foot on the brake.

Britt scrambled into the passenger seat. Before she had even closed the door, Raley lifted his foot from the brake pedal and the car shot forward like a racehorse bounding out of the gate. He bumped over the curb and sped across the opposing lanes. Her teeth slammed together when he hit the median at about eighty miles an hour, then they were speeding away in the outside lane, their rear end fishtailing for several yards before Raley could bring the car under full control.

She glanced back. The men were running across the parking lot toward their now disabled car. Butch had been caught with his pants down. She got a fleeting glimpse of boxer shorts and well-toned legs before Raley took a sharp right turn that put the Holiday Inn out of sight. He turned left at the next opportunity, then another right.

He was cussing a blue streak.

Adrenaline pumped through her. His erratic driving was pitching her from one side of the seat to the other. She managed to fasten her seat belt, saying, “You can slow down. They can’t come after us. Even if they try, their tires will go flat before they can catch us.” She opened her fist. Her fingernails had gouged four half-moons out of her palm, but on it lay the four valve caps.

“What in the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of slowing them down, preventing them from coming after us.”

“They didn’t know we were there! You could have got shot!”

“But I didn’t!”

“Shit!” He hit the steering wheel hard.

In his present mood, arguing was futile, so she said nothing more.

For anyone who may have wanted to follow them, it would have been hopeless. Even she had lost all sense of direction by the time they crossed the Ravenel Bridge. A few miles later, they arrived at the RV park.

Raley wheeled their car behind the cabin, got out, and stormed toward the door, but he held it open for her, keeping an angry bead on her as she walked toward him. Once she had cleared the door, he slammed it shut behind her and bolted it.

Coming around, he bore down on her. “That was a dumb, reckless stunt, Britt.”

“It’ll slow them down.”

“Granted.”

“So it wasn’t dumb at all, was it?”

“It wasn’t worth the risk.”

“I think it was. Anyway, it felt good to get back at them.”

“Felt good? They could have killed you!”

He looked ready to do that himself. A vein in his forehead was pulsing. His hands were clenched at his sides. In her defense, she said, “I needed to do something for myself, Raley. I feel dependent and useless, and I hate that. I needed to act. I’m tired of relying on-”

“Me?”

“Yes! On anybody. I’m not used to it. I’ve always taken care of myself.”

“Then be my guest.” He unlocked the door and yanked it open.

She stared into the rectangle of darkness, broken only by the flashing red neon arrow with Vacancy spelled out along its shaft that hovered above the park’s office. He’d called her bluff, and now she felt rather foolish. If she left, where would she go and how would she get there? She was without resources.

Her gaze moved from the flickering sign back to Raley’s face. His lips were white with anger. They barely moved when he said, “Already one woman died on account of me. I’d rather avoid that happening again.”

“You should have thought of that before kidnapping me.”

With an expletive, he slammed the door closed, bolted it, then plowed his fingers through his hair.

“That’s right,” she said, “don’t forget that it was you who dragged me into this mess.”

He lowered his hands from his head. Looking at her hard, he said in a soft, measured tone, “Wrong. You got into this mess by falling for Jay Burgess’s charm.”

She held his stare for several beats, then strode past him and snatched up the plastic bag that contained the clothes he’d bought her. Which was particularly galling at the moment. She carried the package with her into the bathroom and closed the door, making sure he heard the click of the lock.

When she came out ten minutes later, showered and shampooed, he was sitting on the end of his bed, staring into the TV. The sound was muted. He looked up at her. “Finished?”

She gave him an aloof nod.

He got up and, taking his things with him, went into the bathroom and closed the door. She lay down on her bed and tried to get interested in the soundless sitcom rerun, but after a few minutes got up and turned off the set, then moved restlessly around the cabin.

They had so little with them, there was nothing to tidy up, nothing to read except for the out-of-date telephone directory, a dusty copy of the Gideon Bible, and Raley’s files, and she had reviewed them so many times she had practically memorized the material. There was nothing to do except wait for morning, when they would drive to Columbia and Raley would accuse the attorney general of being a felon. And then what?

Less than a week ago, she’d had a great job, celebrity status, the respect of her peers, friends she could count on. Now she was a journalist whose credibility would forever be in doubt. She was the target of powerful men who would murder their own friend to keep their criminal secret intact. And she was a fugitive who, when caught, would face an indictment for murder. What could the future possibly hold for her? If she survived to have a future at all.

The bathroom door opened and Raley stepped out. His hair was still wet. He had on cargo shorts, no shirt. He dropped his dirty clothes and the duffel bag on the floor beside his bed. He ran his hand around the back of his neck, then propping his hands on his hips, he looked up at the ceiling and mouthed something that could have been either a curse or a prayer.

Only then did he look at her, and when their eyes connected it was with an impact that stole her breath. He reached her in two strides. Before another heartbeat, she was being crushed against him and his mouth was on hers. Their kiss was long and lusty and left her wanting more.

When his lips skated down her neck, she threaded her fingers through his hair. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“Not much, no.” He breathed the words against her lips before claiming them again.

His body was hard, his skin still damp and warm from his shower. When he spread his hand over her bottom and fit her against his lower body, she made a small, yearning sound. “Raley, about Jay-”

“Never mind.”

“It was a fling. Nothing more. A long time ago.”

“Okay.”

“And that night he died, I swear I don’t know what happened between us.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It didn’t feel-”

“Hush, Britt.”

“But you…” She rubbed herself against him. “You I remember. You I felt. I still feel you.”

A gravelly sound vibrated in his throat as he lifted her against him and carried her to the bed. “Take off your top.” Her mind was spinning because of what his fingers were doing inside the front of her pajamas bottoms, but she could think clearly enough to do as he asked. She pulled off her tank top and tossed it aside, then folded her arms around his head as he lowered it to her breasts. His mouth was hot and possessive.

The dual sensations of his swirling tongue against her breasts and his stroking fingers deep inside her, combined with the edginess of her emotions, rapidly brought on a shattering orgasm. But the release was momentary. When she coasted down from it, he was peeling her shorts down her legs, and once she was free from them, he kissed her softly just above her pubic hair. Gently, so that she barely felt the pressure of his thumbs, he exposed her to his tongue. The touch was feather light, but it sent an electric pulse of pleasure through her, breath-stealing in its effect, and the second orgasm, or maybe just an extraordinary aftershock of the first, radiated from it.

He didn’t stop until she came at least once again and was listless and breathless, begging him softly to give her a moment.

He turned onto his back, unzipped his shorts, and took them off. Seeing his erection made her smile drowsily. Reaching for him, she traced the rigid length with her fingertips, her touch as light as a whisper. He groaned and tried to move her hand aside. But she began to stroke him, and when her thumb pressed the smooth tip, his breath hissed through his teeth. “Stop, please. I don’t have anything.”

“I’m aware of that.” She moved onto him and slowly bent her head over his lap.

He thought the sexiest sight he’d ever seen was Britt’s damp hair spread loose and shiny across his stomach and thighs. But it wasn’t. Even sexier was when she gathered her hair in one hand and held it back so he could watch as her lips closed around him.

He heard his first gasped expletive when her tongue found the slit. And stayed. And kept on doing what it was doing until any sounds he made were completely involuntary and incoherent.

From that point forward, he didn’t know what else he said, or if he said anything, because the sensations that assailed him rendered him mindless to anything except this, this incredibly erotic experience that was all the silky wet dreams he’d ever had concentrated into one.

Sexier still was after he climaxed, when she pulled him over onto her. He lay his head on her breasts while he caught his breath and let his fever cool. It was so good, feeling her fingernails idly scratching his back, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts beneath his head, the beat of her heart against his cheek.

Finally he lifted his head and surveyed the exquisite terrain. He grazed her nipple with his lips. “They’re always slightly raised.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s maddening.”

“You didn’t buy the right kind of brassiere.”

“That depends on your point of view.”

Her soft laughter turned into a whimper of pleasure when he touched her lightly with his tongue, then sucked her into his mouth. Her legs folded across his back, hugging him close. That was sexy as hell.

But the sexiest yet was when he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a lazy kiss that went on forever, a melding of their mouths, an exchange of tongues, intensely intimate, dangerously evocative.

He got hard against her belly, and he wanted to be inside her so damn bad his heart ached for it as much as his body did. He had just enough willpower to resist burying himself again in the snug, wet heat he remembered from that one time that had been way too rushed, too brief.

He had to content himself with her nakedness beneath him, and with her matching desire, which manifested itself when she gripped his ass and pulled him tightly to her, groaning something about life not being fair.

She said, “You could-”

“I could, but I wouldn’t. Once inside you, I know I wouldn’t.”

So they had to settle for kissing, touching, and eventually spooning, his arm across her waist, their hands clasped between her breasts.

Just before drifting off, he whispered sleepily, “I may like you a little.”