Stolen Heat Part 10

Escape. Right. That was exactly what he planned to do. And from the looks of it, sooner rather than later.

"I was just checking to make sure it runs," she said as she ma.s.saged her scalp.

He eyed her like he didn't believe her, then moved to examine the engine himself. Careful to step around her so their bodies didn't come close to making contact.

Definitely still p.i.s.sed. Although at the moment she wasn't sure why he thought he had the market cornered on that emotion.

She waited while he pulled the dipstick out and checked the oil level. She held the rag out for him as a peace offering, but he ignored it, instead wiping his grimy hands on the thighs of his jeans.

Oh right, not his jeans. Marty's jeans. Marty's jeans. No wonder he was in an extra-foul mood. No wonder he was in an extra-foul mood.

He walked around the side of the truck without speaking, climbed behind the wheel and started the ignition with the keys she'd left in the cab. His eyes narrowed on the dash. Then he killed the engine and climbed back out. "There's less than a quarter tank of gas. How far to the nearest town?"

"Keeneyville's about ten minutes down the road. In good conditions. But there's only one gas station, and it might be closed due to the storm."

"Great." He perched his hands on his narrow hips and glanced around the garage as if considering his options.

She touched the medal at her chest and thought about her own. She'd found the gas cans Marty had mentioned on the phone, but there still wasn't enough fuel for two vehicles to get out of here, and considering the weather, the limo was pretty much useless at this point. It had barely made it the last ten miles to the farm when the snow had been seriously piling up. So that left the truck. She needed to get to Philly, and he wanted out of this garage.

Indecision warred within her as she bit her lip. She really wanted to tear into him for being such a d.i.c.k but knew that wouldn't get her anywhere. So she tried for sweetness instead. "I know where we can get some fuel, but I'm going to need a favor from you first."

He slowly turned her direction with eyes that could have burned a hole right through her and felt like they had. Refusing to shrink from that look, she s.h.i.+fted her feet and lifted her chin in defiance. So he was ticked at her. So she'd lied to him. So what? He'd done some pretty awful things, too.

"Oh, this should be good," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his feet wide in an aggressive stance. "Lay it on me. I'm all ears. What could I possibly do to help you out, Kat? Please. Tell me. I'm dying dying to help." to help."

No, not just a d.i.c.k. Now he was being a complete a.s.shole. She refused to drop to his level. "I need to go to Philadelphia."

"And that impacts me how?"

She glanced at the pickup.

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "In this truck."

She nodded.

"My truck," he said again.

"The limo won't make it in this snow. And besides, there's not enough gas for both vehicles to leave here. So...I was thinking we'd go together. I can't leave you out here stranded without transportation."

"Generous of you." His brows dropped low. "Why do you need to go to Philly?"

She hesitated, sure this would only make things worse, but really, what were her other options? "I made a call. A friend of a friend has agreed to help me. Us, if you want. But we have to get to Philadelphia first."

"A friend," he said with guarded suspicion. "Someone with the government?"

"Something like that."

He studied her a beat. "Your friend of a friend wouldn't happen to be an acquaintance of Slade's, would he?"

She bit her lip. "Maybe."

"Maybe," he repeated. Then he shook his head, disgust running across his face. "No, I think definitely. You just wanna keep rubbing my nose in it, huh?" He turned away to study a shelving unit across the room.

"It's not like that," she said quickly.

"I don't care what it's like," he said sharply. "All I want right now is to get the h.e.l.l out of here."

His tone was straight and to the point, but his body language belied something else: frustration, anger...jealousy?

Definitely not the latter. Not after the way he'd walked away from her so easily all those years before. "Pete-"

A loud popping pierced the quiet. Metal blasted off metal in a long series of bursts that sounded like a garage full of cars backfiring all at once. Wood panels on the exterior wall across the room cracked and split with an echoing thwack. thwack.

One minute Kat was standing on her feet ready to dig her heels in over their transportation situation, the next Pete dove for her, taking her down hard on the cement floor. Her back and shoulders took the brunt of the fall. Her skull cracked against the unforgiving concrete. A wooden shelf behind them splintered as bullets ripped it to pieces. A can of nails flew up in the air, raining bits of metal down around them.

Kat shrieked. Pete moved more of his body over her, s.h.i.+elding her head with his arms and tucking her face against his neck. The seconds that pa.s.sed as the garage was ripped to shreds by flying shrapnel felt like hours.

In the brief lull that followed, Pete muttered, "Holy f.u.c.k."

His weight was a solid force pus.h.i.+ng down on her, his breath hot against her skin, but all she could focus on was where she'd gone wrong and how in the name of G.o.d they'd been found so fast.

"Are you hit?"

She registered his hands gripping her arms hard, his eyes intense, only inches from her own, boring right into her skull. She glanced down at where he held her, then back up again. Somehow, she was able to shake her head. "No. No, I'm not hit. I...oh, G.o.d-"

"Katherine Meyer!"

Kat froze at the deeply accented Middle Eastern voice.

"We know you're in there," it yelled again. "Come out now so we can settle this in a civilized manner."

Busir.

"Civilized manner, my a.s.s," Pete whispered. "Don't you move a G.o.dd.a.m.n muscle."

Perspiration popped out on Kat's skin. Without warning she was back in the tomb, a knife at her throat, a hard and evil man at her back, holding her tight by her hair.

"No, no, no," she muttered, struggling underneath Pete. Panic washed away her common sense. She had to get away. She couldn't stay here. She had to...what? What could she possibly do? A groan tore from her chest.

"Pull it together, Kat," Pete said softly. He locked his legs around her thighs to stop her struggling, holding her tight against his body. Bracing one forearm across her chest to keep her pressed to the cold concrete, he clamped his free hand over her mouth. "Shh!"

The flight response was so strong, his words and strength barely registered. But when they did, and she realized he was carefully listening to Busir's movements outside, she went utterly still.

"That's it," he said in her ear. His hot breath tickled the soft skin behind her ear, ran like rivulets down her neck. Or maybe that was the perspiration from her adrenaline rush. She couldn't tell anymore.

"Two out front. They're checking the main door. It's locked, right?"

She couldn't find the words to speak, so she nodded instead.

"I'm going to let go of your mouth. But you better stay quiet. Nod for me if you understand." When she did, he slowly eased his hand off her face.

She forced herself to swallow back the mind-numbing fear. So much for all her training and years of preparation for this moment. Her gun was yards from her, and when it came right down to a life-or-death moment, she'd frozen, just like she had in that tomb.

What would she have done if Pete hadn't been here?

Pete pushed up just enough to peer around the large, metal freestanding tool chest that had saved their lives. Footsteps echoed from the side of the building. From somewhere behind his back he pulled out a very big, very black gun she'd had no idea he carried.

She let out a small gasp of surprise. He held his fingers to his lips and pointed toward the apartment door. "Exterior access?"

Common sense was finally filtering back into her mind. She shook her head and swallowed. "Not there. Back of the garage. There's another door for rear parking."

He gave one nod, then lowered himself so he was close to her ear again. Electricity zipped along her nerve endings at both the rush of adrenaline and his skin brus.h.i.+ng hers. "I think there are two more. They're circling the building and reloading. Can you get inside the cab without making any sound?"

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized he wasn't going to save his own a.s.s and leave her here for Busir. Regardless of everything they'd done to each other and how he felt about her right now, he wasn't leaving her behind.

Stupid-a.s.s tears that had no purpose stung the backs of her eyes. She nodded quickly, blinking in rapid succession to avoid turning into a hysterical woman in the midst of a crisis. She was so so not that woman anymore. not that woman anymore.

"Good," he said. "I'm going to create a diversion. When you hear it, gun that engine and make sure the pa.s.senger door is open for me."

Just what did he have planned?

"Wait. Are we going out the front or back?" she asked.

He thought for a second. "You know this area better. With the amount of snow that's come down, your best guess is a h.e.l.luva lot better than mine."

Her best guess. c.r.a.p, her best guess had nearly killed them both. Refusing to think about that, she swallowed again. Hills ran close to the building along the back side. If they went that way, their odds of getting stuck in the fresh powder were much, much greater. "Front," she finally said, knowing it was their only hope.

"Front," he agreed with a nod, staring into her eyes.

For a second, she felt the connection they'd shared earlier when he'd kissed her spark up again, the same one they'd had in Cairo.

"Then we pray like h.e.l.l you can drive this d.a.m.n rig so we don't end up spinning our wheels," he added.

He eased off her slowly, in increments so their movements wouldn't be heard. Pus.h.i.+ng up to a crouch behind the tool cabinet, gun lifted near his head, he waved for her to get up.

Kat was rattled as h.e.l.l, and she knew she was going to be sore from hitting the cement floor, but she forced herself up and somehow managed to get to the side of the truck with barely a whisper. When she glanced back at Pete, though, she gasped. Blood stained the back of his torn sweats.h.i.+rt in several places.

She bit down hard on her lip to keep from calling out to him, then prayed the fresh spots of blood were only shrapnel wounds and not bullet holes.

He'd used his body as a s.h.i.+eld for her.

The heroics were so at odds with what she knew of him. But she couldn't think about that now. She had to get into the truck and get ready for whatever it was he had planned.

Using both hands, she reached up and lifted the door handle, pausing when the soft click seemed to echo through the vast garage like a cannon exploding on the horizon.

"Katherine Meyer!" Busir yelled again. "This is your last warning. Come out now peacefully or we come in after you."

Kat didn't waste any more time. Busir was a man of his word. She'd learned that a long time ago.

She pulled the door open and quietly rejoiced when the hinges didn't creak. In jerky moves, she crawled across the seat and slid behind the wheel. Her pack with the pendant of the crouching pharaoh nestled inside was already secured under the seat-a precaution she'd made earlier, just in case. She glanced up to let Pete know she was in position, but by the time she looked he was already gone.

Fear iced her veins. She had no idea where he was or what his diversion was going to be.

An explosion from within the small studio apartment rocked the truck and entire garage. Flames shot out of the doorway. Kat ducked her head and stifled a cry just as gunshots whipped through the air again in rapid succession.

The world felt like it had caught fire. But from somewhere far off, she heard a familiar voice yell, "Go, go, go!"

She twisted the keys in the ignition and revved the engine. Just as she was about to step on the gas, Pete threw himself into the cab of the truck and yelled, "Now!"

She gunned it. Their bodies jerked back at the sudden momentum. The Ford's tires squealed on the cement. Seconds later they crashed through the wooden door at the end of the garage and tore off through the snow.

Two bodies Kat barely saw leaped out of the way of the truck. The tires slipped, and the back end whipped around on a thick layer of fresh powder. Miraculously, they somehow gained traction.

Gunfire ignited behind them. Pete rolled over the seat, gripped her head and pushed. "Stay down!"

Kat tightened her hands on the wheel, leaned down as low as she could and tried to focus on getting to the road without killing them both. When a blast of cold air rushed through the cab, she realized Pete had opened his window and was firing back. She couldn't spare a glance to see if he'd hit anyone. They were about to reach the road.

"Hold on!"

She pulled hard on the steering wheel to make the turn. Pete fell into the seat, rammed into her shoulder. The back end slid again, this time as if the tires were on an ice rink. And in the split second that followed, Kat realized in a moment of utter clarity that unless a miracle struck, they weren't going to make it.

They were going to spin. Right there in the middle of Hwy 249. Before they could correct, Busir would be on them.

Oh, G.o.d. This was it.

After six long, lonely years, she was really going to die in a car accident after all. This time in the middle of a blizzard. And she was taking the man she'd once loved with her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The tail end of the truck whipped across the ice-covered road and sent Pete and Kat spiraling to the left. Pete gripped the dash hard as the tires slipped, then caught in the powder and the old vehicle corrected itself, shooting out of the drive.

When they finally turned a corner and were out of direct sight of the farm, Kat let out an audible breath. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She darted a glance into the rearview mirror at the old barn, now half-engulfed in flames and partially hidden by trees.

"What was that?"

"Propane," Pete said. "Small tank in the kitchen." He ditched the spent magazine from the Glock he'd found, snapped the new one into place and darted a look behind them. It was hard to see much through the surrounding forest and early morning darkness as they shot down the barren road, but the red glow of flames was still visible through the canopy, as was the smell of burning rubber through the open window at his side.

Wouldn't be long before those fireworks were spotted by some locals. For their sakes, he hoped Kat's thugs were gone by then.

s.h.i.+t. How had Busir found them so fast? The other guy, the long-haired one from the auction, had been there, too. The one Pete knew he'd met before but just couldn't place.

They rounded several bends in the road before Kat glanced in the rearview. Breathing easier, but obviously with enough adrenaline still rus.h.i.+ng through her body to run a marathon, she said, "I don't see anyone behind us."