Blind Run Read online

  “So, it’s true.” She closed the door and walked toward him, stopping a few feet away. “You’re alive.”

  Ethan tightened his hold on the cup. “Disappointed?”

  “The rest are gone.” She leveled cold eyes on him. “Lee, Mike, Jenkins, even T.J.”

  “What about you? You’re still breathing.” He had to wonder about that, how she’d escaped the Spaniard’s wrath. Although, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Survival had been Anna’s special skill, a talent he’d once used without conscience. But Ramirez had found the rest of them, one by one, and made them pay. Even Ethan. Especially Ethan. “Someone might question how you managed to stay alive.”

  She ignored the implied question and said, “You look like hell. I’d heard you’d given up, but I didn’t believe it.”

  “Now you do.” He frowned and dumped the last of his coffee into the sand. “So let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? Do what you’ve come for and be done with it.”

  “You think I’m here to kill you.” She cocked her head and smiled slightly. “Under different circumstances, the idea holds some appeal. But that’s not why I’m here. Not this time.”

  He didn’t believe her. Anna thrived on the hunt, and at one time he’d been the best. She would have wholeheartedly embraced the task of bringing him down, if for no other reason than to prove she could. But he wasn’t playing by the rules, and it would eat at her.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “You just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought you’d stop by for a chat.” Surprisingly, he felt no fear, and even the guilt had fled. He felt only relief that it might finally end.

  “I need your help,” she said.

  He must have missed something. “You want to run that by me one more time?”

  “You heard me. I need your help.”

  He didn’t respond right away, then he laughed, the irony of it too much. “Sorry, but you asking me for help, it’s a bit funny.”

  “This is important.”

  “It’s always important.” An edge of anger touched his voice. “Isn’t that what we told ourselves, Anna? How we justified the things we did, the people we killed?”

  She flinched. “That was an accident. We didn’t know Ramirez had a kid in his cabin. How could we? We didn’t even know she existed.”

  “No?” It was a question Ethan had turned over in his mind a million times in the last three years. Had it been an accident? Or had he and his team unknowingly accomplished what they’d been sent for? “Maybe you’re right. Then again . . .” He let his voice trail off. Accident or not, the end result was the same, and he couldn’t hide from the responsibility of it.

  “Look, Decker, I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Then you best be moving on.” Ethan pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit as the pain in his head reasserted itself. “You had it right to begin with. I’m finished. I’m no good to you or anyone else. Go find yourself another gun.”

  “I don’t need a gun. I just want you to—”

  The back car door opened, cutting her off, and a boy of about twelve stepped out. Behind him a small blonde girl edged out as well, clinging to his arm.

  “Callie needs a drink of water,” the boy said to Anna.

  “Get back in the car,” she said, without looking at him.

  “Not until you get Callie some water.”

  Before Anna could respond, the girl said, “Please, Anna, I’m not feeling very well.”

  Anna turned to the girl, a softness creeping across her features that Ethan had never seen before. Then the momentary gentleness vanished as she swung back to face him.

  “They need your help.”

  “WE’RE HERE TO HELP, Dr. Turner.” Cox’s voice was warm, solicitous. “Those children are the heart of this project, and they must be brought home safely and quickly.”

  Paul wasn’t fooled. Cox didn’t care about the children. It was the project and its outcome that interested him. But Paul had found his way out, his scapegoat.

  “Are you telling me this woman,” Paul inserted just a trace of indignance in his voice, “this professional killer, kidnapped two of my children?”

  “Your children?” Morrow mocked.

  Paul bristled. “I think of all the children here as mine.”

  “Yes,” Cox replied. “I’m sure you do. And yes, we believe Anna took the children. The real issue is why, or more specifically, for whom?” He nodded to Morrow, who worked the keyboard until another image replaced Anna’s on the screen. This time it was a tall man with dark blond hair, strong features, and blue eyes that seemed to leap off the screen. “Do you know this man?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Morrow asked.

  “I’m sure.” Paul shot Morrow an irritated glance. “Who is he?”

  Without answering, Morrow tapped the keys and another image materialized next to the first. “What about him?”

  The second man had classic Latin features: dark eyes, hair, and skin. He stared down from the screen with an intensity and quality of danger not even the grainy computer image could hide. Paul thanked the powers-that-be it was only a picture.

  “I’ve never seen either of them. Who are they?”

  “The first is Ethan Decker,” Cox said. “The Latino is Marco Ramirez.” He paused, as if gauging Paul’s reaction. “We believe Ms. Kelsey is working with one or both of them.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Come now, Dr. Turner,” Cox said. “The children here are not without value. Certainly you understand there are people, governments even, who would pay dearly to possess them.”

  Of course Paul knew that, but he was playing for his life and needed to act the part of the outraged father. “And you believe these men,” Paul motioned toward the screen, “plan to sell Danny and Callie? Why that’s . . . inhumane.”

  Cox eyed Paul with amusement. “So it is.”

  “But do they have the connections to arrange such a sale?” Paul asked, ignoring Cox’s obvious sarcasm.

  “Decker was an Agency officer with international contacts,” Morrow answered. “His specialty was search and retrieval. He’s good at finding . . . things.”

  People.

  Though Morrow hadn’t said the word, Paul understood what he’d meant. Ethan Decker hunted other men.

  “And,” Morrow added, “Decker and his team got in and out of places conventional service personnel couldn’t reach.”

  Committing acts of horror those same conventional soldiers would not, Paul thought but dared not say. “It sounds like you admire him.”

  Morrow shrugged. “He was good at his job.”

  “He was an exceptional officer,” Cox said. “With a high mission success rate. And, yes, he had the contacts to arrange a sale.”

  Paul realized they’d been speaking of Decker in the past tense. “I take it he’s no longer in the government’s employ.”

  “He dropped out of the intelligence community several years ago,” Cox said. “After a particularly nasty business which resulted in a failed mission and the death of an innocent bystander. A child.”

  “My God.”

  “I doubt God had anything to do with it.” Cox took his time folding his hands on top of the table. “More likely, Decker simply became overzealous in his determination to carry out his mission.”

  Paul shuddered at the thought of two of his most valuable children in the hands of a man like Ethan Decker, a man who specialized in hunting other men. “And the other?” he asked, knowing the information about the Latino would be worse. “This Marco Ramirez?”

  “Now that’s a man I can admire.” Morrow’s smile sent another sliver of unease down Paul’s spine. “Ramirez’s talents run along a different vein than Decker’s. In fact, you might say Ramirez’s skills make Decker look like an altar boy.”

  Paul didn’t want to know more, but he had no choice. He needed to know the kind of men he was dealing with if he had any chance of surviving. “What skill
is that, Mr. Morrow?”

  “He’s a shooter. There are maybe five, six men in the world who can handle a rifle like he can. And now that he’s no longer on the government payroll, he works for the highest bidder.”

  “What exactly does that mean? What does he do?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Morrow grinned. “He’s an assassin.”

  ETHAN KNEW Anna Kelsey was capable of assassination, all of them had been. What he found hard to accept was her traveling with two children. Or asking for help.

  “What’s going on here, Anna?”

  She stepped to the girl’s side and placed a hand on her thin shoulder. “This is Callie and her brother Danny.”

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “What’s bothering you, Decker?” She crossed her arms and eyed him with equal parts annoyance and curiosity. “That I’m alive? Or that I invaded your self-imposed exile?”

  “Both.”

  “They need your help.”

  “Cut the crap.” He’d worked with Anna for too long to be fooled. She wasn’t exactly the maternal type. Nor was she into humane gestures. Anna Kelsey cared about one thing: her own skin. “We both know you’re not here for some altruistic reason.”

  “You think you know me so well.” Her eyes sparked with anger. “Did it ever occur to you there are some lines even I won’t cross?”

  “You forget who you’re talking to.”

  “Seems you’re the one who’s forgotten who and what he is.”

  If only that were true. “Did the Agency send you?”

  “They know nothing about this.”

  He studied her, trying to gauge the truth of her words. It was impossible. Anna lied as easily as most people breathed.

  “Look,” she said. “I just need to leave the kids here for a couple of days, three at the most. There’s something I need to take care of, then I’ll be back for them.” She hesitated, as if deciding how much to say. “I need you to protect them for me.”

  “From who?” The question escaped before he could stop it, before he could remind himself it wasn’t his concern.

  “I’ll tell you.” Her voice held a sudden note of fatigue. “Just . . . Would you get Callie a glass of water first?”

  Ethan looked at the girl, then at the boy standing at her side. They were as unalike as any two kids he’d ever seen. Anna had said they were brother and sister, but Ethan didn’t see it. The boy, Danny, was dark complected with hair and eyes to match, while Callie was blonde and blue-eyed with an angel’s face. She stared at Ethan with open, sweet curiosity, while the boy oozed with hostility.

  “We’re hungry, too,” he said, daring Ethan to refuse.

  “Please, Decker,” Anna said. “We’ve been on the road for nearly forty-eight hours. Let us catch our breath, then I’ll explain everything.”

  Ethan didn’t believe her. Anna would tell him exactly what she thought he needed to know—just enough to get him to go along with the game. What she didn’t realize was that she couldn’t change his mind, he wanted no part of her or these kids. He was out of it. Finished.

  But he couldn’t refuse a glass of water to a little girl or her angry big brother. Not even he had sunk that low. “Okay, I’ll get your water, but afterward, you’re on your own.”

  Anna nodded and urged the girl toward an old lawn chair beneath the awning. “Come on, Callie, you need to get out of the sun.”

  Feeling dismissed, Ethan went inside.

  It took a few minutes of rummaging through cabinets to come up with a couple of clean glasses. As for food, he didn’t have much. He found a box of crackers and a half-empty jar of peanut butter. It would have to do.

  He’d just started filling the glasses with water when an engine kicked over outside. For half a second he froze, caught by his own gullibility. And by the time he made it through the door, Anna was gone, the white Ford leaving a whirlwind of dust and the kids in its wake.

  “Damn it!” Ethan gritted his teeth, feeling like a fool. He’d known better than to trust that lying—

  The boy claimed the glass of water. “She said to tell you she’d be back.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I don’t believe her, either.” The kid shrugged, not looking any happier about the situation than Ethan, and returned to his sister’s side. “Looks like you’re stuck with us.”

  “Like hell.” Ethan hurried back inside.

  He found his keys beneath the rumpled sheets where he’d dropped them the night before. As he passed back through the narrow kitchen, he grabbed the box of crackers. Outside, he tossed the package to the boy. “Come on, we’re going after her.”

  “Callie’s too sick.”

  “I don’t care. You’re going with me.”

  “You want her to heave all over your truck?” The boy let out a snort of disgust and nodded toward Ethan’s pickup. “Not that it would make much difference in that heap.”

  The kid needed a lesson in manners, but Ethan didn’t have time to argue with him. Besides, the girl did look pitiful. “What’s wrong with her?”

  The boy gave his sister a couple of crackers and looked like he’d refuse to answer. Then he said, “She gets carsick, okay?”

  Just his luck, stuck with a couple of kids and one of them got carsick. Ethan couldn’t wait to get his hands on Anna. “Okay, stay here. I’ll be back.” As he climbed into his truck, he added, “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Don’t worry.” The kid glanced around the shabby yard. “I wouldn’t want to catch something.”

  “Smart-ass,” Ethan muttered, threw the truck in gear, and headed after the Ford.

  A part of him knew he’d never catch her. Anna’s car had looked relatively new, while his truck had been on its last leg for some time. He’d managed to keep the vehicle running, but driving at breakneck speed in the desert heat wasn’t the best way to prolong its life.

  At this point, he didn’t care.

  Anna had dropped those kids in his lap, and he wasn’t about to let her get away with it. Hell, he could hardly take care of himself. He certainly couldn’t be responsible for someone else. Not anymore. The last time a child’s life had been in his hands, he’d blown it.

  He kept the gas pedal pressed to the floor, swerving to avoid the potholes dotting the ragged road. He seemed to find more than he missed, and with each jarring hit, his head pounded in protest. It didn’t slow him, and he managed to make the two-lane blacktop that passed for a highway in record time.

  Skidding to a halt on the shoulder of the road, he searched for the white Ford.

  “Shit.” He slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

  What the hell had he expected? That she’d be waiting for him, giving him a chance to catch up to her? Not Anna. The woman was a pro and knew exactly what she was doing.

  He pulled out onto the highway, turning east and away from town. Anna wouldn’t head for a speck-in-the-desert place like Draco. She’d want the nearest big city where she could blend in and disappear. Again, he jammed the gas pedal to the floor, despite the ominous clanking from the already overheated engine.

  As usual, the highway was mostly deserted. He saw only one other car, which passed him going in the opposite direction. It seemed odd. A dark import. Expensive. The likes of which one seldom saw way out here. It teased his thoughts, as did the image of the driver, flashing across his vision as he passed. Then ahead, the glint of sun on metal chased all other considerations from his mind.

  Anna?

  He lifted his foot from the accelerator. Even before he made out the shape of her vehicle on the wrong side of the road, or noticed the odd angle of the car with its flat, left front tire in the ditch and the driver’s door wide open, he knew something was wrong. Stopping several yards behind the car, he sat motionless, wishing now he’d taken time to dig out the Glock.

  Everything was too quiet.

  Cautiously, he climbed out of the truck, using the door as a shield, and scanned the surrounding area.
Because of the car’s angle, he could see into the empty front seat, but what hid behind those tinted rear windows was anyone’s guess. With no other vehicles around, however, the chances of someone hiding in the backseat were pretty slim. Dismissing the car for now, he searched the desert for any signs of life or activity. It, too, seemed preternaturally still.

  Then he spotted the body.

  About a hundred yards from the car, beneath a prickly yucca, it lay long and slender, with a fall of dark hair. Ethan felt himself go cold. Once more he checked out the surroundings and saw nothing—no lurking madman, no other vehicles, and nowhere for a killer to hide in the flat, nearly featureless desert.

  Whatever had happened here, it was over.

  He kept up his guard as he made his way to Anna’s side. Her body lay facedown, a single gunshot wound in the back of the head, a .38 automatic caught in her lifeless grip. She’d been killed execution style.

  Ethan dropped down beside her. “Damn it, Anna.” It surprised him how much it hurt to see her like this. It was one more death on his conscience, another life he’d been unable to save.

  Picking up her gun, he checked the clip. Empty. As he’d expected. As was a second clip, dropped to the sand when she’d loaded her spare. Also near the body was her leather pouch, looking enough like a woman’s handbag to pass but filled with the tools of Anna’s trade. He searched it, quickly, and found nothing unexpected. Several sets of false ID. Cash. A cell phone. And a third empty clip.

  She’d obviously held off her attacker until she’d run out of ammunition. Then she’d had nowhere to run, no place to hide, nothing left to do but accept her fate.

  “Why couldn’t you have just stayed underground?”

  She alone of his team had escaped the Spaniard’s wrath. Why had she surfaced now? And why show up on his doorstep with two kids? What had she said? Something about a line she wouldn’t cross?

  Standing, he ran a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He couldn’t afford to be questioned by the authorities, but he couldn’t just leave her body out here, either. She’d been a member of his team, and he owed her. Then he realized he was avoiding the most pressing question of all.