Packing Heat (25 page)

She got out of the car and ran her hand around the inside of all four wheel wells, felt under the front and rear bumpers, then bit the bullet and lay down on her back in the dirt, checking first one side of the undercarriage, then the other. “Pop the hood,” she said to Cole.

He did, then watched her check the underside of the hood and the motor well.

“As far as I can see, there are no tracking devices,” she said.

“And no one followed us after the fight.” He handed her the gun back. “I made sure of that.”

“Then how did they find us?” she said, more to herself than Cole. “The police got an anonymous tip and came running, which forced us out of the RV camp for the first time since we got there. And the Russians were waiting to take us—to take me out.”

“Which means the kidnappers are the anonymous tippers.”

“It also means they had to get their information from inside the FBI,” Harmony said grimly. “It’s the only answer. The last time we used the FBI phone, before today, was just after the fight in Tulsa. There’s no way they could know we were in Colorado Springs, even if they’d traced it.”

“Mike’s the only one who knew we were there. Except for Larkin, and neither one of them would tell anyone where you are.”

“Unless they didn’t realize they were giving us away.” Harmony met Cole’s eyes and saw he was coming to the same conclusion—the only possible conclusion. “It had to be Treacher,” she said. “I let Mike in on your history with him, and Mike shut him down. He had to do something, so he must have tapped into Mike’s phone and computer, and since it was before Mike sent us to Conn, Treacher knew where we were, and he knew why. He let the kidnappers know, then sent the cops to flush us out, figuring you’d get arrested or killed.”

“Son of a bitch,” Cole ground out. “It’s not bad enough that he ruined my life, now he’s trying to end yours. Kovaleski shut him down once; he can do it again.”

“Conn will fill Mike in,” Harmony said. “And he’ll figure it out, but he won’t shut Treacher down. Think about it a minute, Cole. If he can get real intelligence, he can be fed bogus intelligence, and through him the kidnappers.”

“We can use him,” Cole said, sounding a little mollified.

“If we need to.”

“I hope we do, and I hope it ruins him.”

“That’s already a done deal. No matter how this turns out for us and for Richard, Mike will make sure Treacher burns for using him against me.”

Cole grinned, but there was no humor in it. “If he doesn’t, I will.”

Not that he couldn’t hazard a guess at what she was thinking. And feeling.

The end was coming, and he was a stew of emotion, anticipation, trepidation, fear for Harmony, and, yeah, for himself. When he charted out the possible outcomes of going after Richard Swendahl, none of them ended well for him. And if he was this jacked up, with his relatively even keel, he could only imagine what kind of fireworks were going off inside Harmony. Then again, she’d become pretty good at compartmentalizing. Sure, she had an intense emotional stake in the outcome of this operation, but at the moment all that seemed to matter to her was getting to Los Angeles. She’d set the cruise control at seventy, she barely took her eyes off the road, and she had her sights set on Los Angeles. It was all Cole could do to get her to stop around noon for food. He never even considered asking her to find a motel and get some rest. Until they hit Vegas.

“What is it with guys and Vegas?”

“Let’s see, legalized prostitution, cheap food, gambling, and violent sports. And I hear what happens here stays here. What’s not to like?”

“Go for it,” Harmony said.

“Really? How about if I take the seven mil and put it down on one roll of the dice,” he said, only half teasing.

“Sure, that wouldn’t get us any attention at all, especially if you won.”

“We don’t have to stop here,” he said, pulling his eyes off the lights and putting them on Harmony’s face, just as she turned to look at him.

“But you want to.” She focused her attention out the windshield again, but this time she was checking out the food and lodging possibilities, putting his preferences above her own.

Just as he was putting her wishes above his. And the job.

“I’m hungry, too,” she said, sounding slightly defensive.

Cole figured they were on the same page, both uncomfortable with the shift in their attitude toward one another and what it might say about their relationship. And neither of them was willing to open that can of worms.

Harmony pulled into valet parking at the Sahara. The Sahara had been built in the fifties, so it was smaller than the huge new metropolis hotels like the Bellagio and the MGM Grand. And since it was at the eastern end of the Strip, the throngs of people were sparser, which was a double-edge sword since they couldn’t get lost in a crowd if they needed to, but they could see trouble coming more easily. Not that either of them was expecting trouble.

Then again, “Do you think the Russians really gave up after they found out you have the password?”

“I don’t think the Russians know when to quit. But I think we can take the time to have a meal.”

She stepped out of the GT and handed the keys to the valet, who was standing there, mouth open, eyes shifting between Harmony and the car. He eventually settled on the car. Blondes were a lot more common than GTs.

“I don’t hear you saying we’ll spend the night,” Cole said, taking Harmony’s arm and escorting her inside before she could change her mind about the food, too.

“I feel like we should push through to LA,” she said.

“We’re so close.”

“And you want to get to Richard as soon as you can, but if we drive all night we’ll be too tired to take on a bunch of Russian kidnappers.”

“I’m familiar with Los Angeles and its surroundings, so I have a better idea where it’s safe to stay. We can rest when we get there.”

“Any idea how we’re going to find out where your friend is being held?”

Harmony gave him a sidelong look as they entered the buffet line, which was pretty short at that time of night. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it again?” she asked as she paid.

“Would it do me any good?”

“You could leave. I won’t try to stop you.”

She’d said something like that before back at the RV park, asked him why he was still helping her. He had an answer this time, but it wasn’t one he wanted to verbalize, for her sake or his own. “We have a deal. I help you; you help me.”

“You might want to hear the rest before you make any rash promises,” she said, following him from one food station to another.

She wasn’t putting anything on her tray, so Cole used it for his overflow, trying to choose some things she might eat.

“You asked me how we were going to find out where Richard is,” she continued, juggling the heavy tray. “The answer is we’re not. I’m going to call the head Russian and set up a meet. It’s our only option. I wish I could say I had more of a plan, but . . .”

“Have you ever had a plan? Past breaking me out of jail.”

Her eyes cut to his, but she smiled. “Not really.”

“So why is today any different than the last week?”

“It’s different because this time we’re taking on the Russians, on their turf. Our goal is get Richard out without giving away the bank. They’ll do whatever it takes to get the money, even if it means killing us.

“I broke you out of jail to move the money, and once you transfer enough to satisfy the kidnappers, your part is done. There’s no reason for you to be in on the exchange.”

“Except I have the bank account number.” Cole chose a table in a secluded corner of the seating area and dug in.

“I take it that means you’re not giving it to me.”

“We’ve come this far together. Now you just need to trust me enough to let me help.”

“I do trust you.”

“Good. Eat something.”

“I’m not really hungry.

“You’re still healing, and your body needs fuel for that. You won’t be any good to either of us if you’re weak from lack of food. And I don’t mean green stuff,” he qualified when she aimed her fork at a chunk of broccoli. He moved every dish with a side of vegetables out of her reach, shoving a plate full of red meat to her side of the table. “Try the prime rib.”

“It’s a bit too rare for me.”

“Consider it a training tool. You could stand to have a little more carnivore in your attitude.”

She gave him a look, but she actually managed to put away a respectable meal for a change.
Nothing like appealing to her pride
, Cole thought, eating everything she didn’t. And, as much as he would have liked to visit the blackjack tables, he followed her to the exit, waiting while she handed the claim ticket to the valet.

The kid took the ticket and stood there, fidgeting from foot to foot, eyes wide, his face shifting between panic and fear. What struck Cole the most was that he didn’t go to retrieve the GT.

“You’re not going to get the car,” Harmony said, clearly on the same page as Cole.

“I, uh . . .”

Harmony flipped out her badge and held it up in front of his face. “You have exactly ten seconds to produce our vehicle.”

“Jeez, lady, I didn’t know you were a cop. They said they were just playing a joke—”

“They who?”

He pointed a finger. Cole turned around to see a black Cadillac easing up to the curb in front of the valet station. The rear window slid open. Cole stooped to look in and got a face full of gun. Harmony came over to see what was going on, and the gun shifted to point at her.

It was no surprise to learn that the guy behind it had a Russian accent. “Get in,” he said. “You in back, her in front.”

Cole exchanged a look with Harmony. She had to realize what the seating arrangement meant. If they followed instructions, the guy in the backseat could shoot her without risking harm to Cole, which was exactly what Richard’s kidnappers wanted.

Harmony’s guns were in the duffel, which was still in the GT since the casinos wouldn’t let in armed patrons and she’d preferred not to announce her profession. Even so, Cole was prepared to make a stand, then and there, but she shook her head. “Just be grateful it isn’t the trunk.” She opened the front door and heaved a sigh. “God, I’m sick of Russians,” she said as she angled into the front seat.

“You have problem with Russians?” the driver asked her as he pulled out, heading away from the lights of the Strip.

“I didn’t before they started wanting me dead.”

He shrugged, one-shouldered. Very Russian. “Nothing personal. Just a favor for a friend.”

“Irina,” Cole stated the obvious. No one felt a need to comment further.

“How’d you find us?” Harmony asked.

“The word has gone out, how do you say, on the grapevine. In every city between Denver and Los Angeles, our friends look for you. Here in Las Vegas we have spotters along the Strip.”

“So what now?”

The guy behind the wheel steered the Cadillac onto a side street that was less well lit and a lot less traveled than the Strip. “Now we take you to Irina,” he said.

“So we can give her the money right before she kills us,” Harmony said. She half turned in her seat, as if the comment was directed at him, Cole noticed. It definitely got the Russians’ attention.

The driver’s eyes cut to Cole’s in the rearview mirror, then shifted back to the road. “Money?”

“Seven million,” Cole said. “Irina forgot to mention that, huh?”

The driver took his attention off the road again, looking at his partner this time. Harmony struck, slamming her fist sideways into his face. She caught everyone by surprise, but not so much that Cole failed to take advantage of it, grabbing the gunman’s hand so the shot he squeezed off thunked into the door.

The Russian in the backseat was older; he couldn’t hope to outmuscle Cole. There was a short, silent struggle, ending with the muzzle of the gun pointed at the Russian’s stomach. Cole tried to figure out what was going on in the front seat, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his opponent, not in such close quarters. Cole couldn’t see Harmony, but the driver was fighting more than the wheel, the car swerving crazily as he tried to keep it on the road and fend Harmony off at the same time. Cole was waiting for the crash. Instead, the driver’s-side door flew open, the Russian behind the wheel yelled as he sprawled sideways out of the car, and Harmony popped up, grinning when she saw Cole holding the gun.

“There’s nobody driving the car,” Cole yelled, but she was already scrambling over the console.

She dropped into the driver’s seat and took control of the car, pulling the door shut at the same time. They sideswiped a pickup parked along the street, but she eventually steered them straight again.

“Keep driving,” Cole said, waiting until she was a few miles away before he had her pull over. They kicked the other Russian out, Cole got in the front seat, and they headed back to the Sahara.

The valet took one look at them and tried to run.

Harmony caught him by the shirtfront. If he hadn’t been so scrawny, she’d never have hung onto him, but she was amped up on anger and adrenaline.

“I’m not even going to ask how much they paid you to keep us waiting,” Harmony said to the valet. “But if anything happened to our car, you’d better pray your future cellmate doesn’t think prison orange is flattering on you.”

Cole tried to intervene before Harmony throttled the poor guy. “Okay,” he said, “first you shove a guy twice your size out of a moving vehicle—”

“He was trying to kill me.”

“—and now you’re terrorizing a teenager.”

“Because he took a bribe from the guy who wanted to kill me.”

“Jeez, lady, get a grip,” the valet said, “it was only forty bucks.”

“Yeah, it’s so much better knowing my life is only worth forty—”

Cole pulled her off the kid. “No more red meat for you.”

She turned her glare on him, and he almost took an involuntary step back. Then some of the crazy started to fade away.

He still wasn’t all that eager to get in a car with her behind the wheel. “I don’t suppose you want to get a room for the night.”

“I want this to be over,” she said, looking at the valet again, not as furious as before but angry enough to have him quaking in his high-tops. “Car,” she said to him.

“O-over there,” he stammered, pointing in the direction of the Sahara’s parking garage. “Right by the exit.” And he handed Cole the keys, keeping well out of Harmony’s reach.

“Didn’t have time to sell it, huh?” Harmony said, her hand moving to where she normally wore her holster.

“C’mon, Dirty Harry,” Cole said, dragging her off before she could realize she wasn’t wearing her gun and go after the kid with her bare hands again.

The GT was parked right where the valet had said it would be. Cole deposited her in the passenger seat, then went around and climbed in the driver’s side, exhaling in relief as he put the key in the ignition.

“I’m tired, too,” Harmony said, “but we can rest when this is over.”

“True.” Cole pointed the GT toward I-15, and LA beyond. “I just hope it’s not six feet under.”