Present Tense (A Parker & Coe, Love and Bullets Thriller Book 2) Page 6

  "Who are they? Did they hurt you?"

  "Parker, as much as I'd love to cuddle and tell you all about my fun-filled day, that's never gonna happen if we don't start moving. Those men want the prisoner dead and from this distance they probably think you're him. Now get in the car."

  I pulled away from him and started for the Rover, but Parker didn't budge. He stood there and stared at the two vehicles, quietly assessing them as they approached.

  "How many men?" he asked.

  I stopped. "Are you crazy? They're armed and very, very danger—"

  "How many?"

  I pushed out a breath. "Five. I counted five. Two in the SUV, three in the pickup. But that's just a guess. Can we please go now?"

  The trucks were getting closer.

  "What kind of firepower?"

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "Just answer the question, Kelsey."

  "Rifles. All I saw were hunting rifles."

  He nodded, then finally, thankfully, started toward the Rover. I went around to the passenger side to climb in, but stopped short when Parker threw open his door and reached for the rifle rack between the seats.

  He tugged his shotgun free and gestured to the glove box in front of the passenger's seat. "Hand me the badge in there."

  Parker was a former Deputy U.S. Marshal and didn't have much restraint when it came to pretending he was still with the department. I'd warned him what could happen if he was ever caught impersonating a deputy, but it didn't have much impact.

  "Come on," I cried. "What are you gonna do?"

  "Control the situation."

  "These men are killers."

  "Maybe so, but there's no point in trying to outrun them. And if they think I'm law enforcement, they're likely to believe I've done the logical thing and called in the cavalry—especially with a dead ranger on the ground over there."

  "He's not a ranger. He's a friend of theirs."

  "Let's see if that's still true."

  If this is the first time you're meeting Parker, you should probably be aware that he's one of the most stubborn men I've ever known. Once he's made his mind up to do something, he does it, and you're wasting your breath if you think you can talk him out of it.

  There are times I appreciate this personality trait, and times I'm infuriated by it.

  Guess which one this was.

  "Parker, if you think you can scare them off with a badge and a shotgun, you're out of your mind. The real ranger is lying dead inside that shack and the guy on the ground is the one who killed him. If they're willing to go that far to get what they want, what makes you think they'll spare us?"

  "You really have been busy."

  "Will you get in the goddamn car and start driving?"

  "Just give me that badge," he said, "then climb into the passenger's seat and put your hands behind you like you're wearing cuffs."

  "What?"

  "If this starts to go south, I want you to jump behind the wheel and get the hell out of here. Take this road into town and find the nearest Sheriff."

  "Parker…"

  "Trust me, Kelsey. I've dealt with guys like this before. The last thing they want is a bunch of cops after them. Chances are good they'll assess the situation and cut their losses."

  "You don't know who they work for."

  "You can tell me about it as soon as we're done. Now give me the badge."

  There was no point in arguing with him. I nodded, then found the badge in the glove box and handed it to him. Reluctantly. As he went around to the front of the Rover, I climbed into the passenger's seat and held my hands behind me.

  I was perilously close to hyperventilating.

  The trucks were almost upon us, the black SUV in the lead. Parker took a couple steps forward, shotgun in one hand, badge in the other. He held up the badge so the first driver could get a good look at it, and the two vehicles kicked up dust as they came to a halt in front of us.

  I held my breath, expecting the men inside to come out firing. But for a long moment, nobody moved.

  Then the passenger door of the SUV flew open and the lean, muscular guy who snacked on cats got out and came forward. He had a wary look, as if he wasn't quite sure what he was walking into, but was prepared for anything.

  He didn't have his rifle on him, but I had a feeling he was armed and I wondered where he was hiding the handgun. Probably at the small of his back.

  There was an undercurrent of menace in the way he moved, and when he got about two yards away, Parker brought the shotgun up. "That's far enough, sir."

  To my surprise, the cat eater smiled, as cordial as a Sunday School teacher. "Is there a problem, deputy?"

  Parker nodded to Renner's body. "I think you could say that."

  Cat Eater took a look, showing no sign of recognition. Or sympathy. "That's a shame. Hunting accident?"

  "I don't think it was an accident," Parker said. "I've got the suspect in custody."

  Suspect?

  I'm slow sometimes, but a little further explanation would have been nice.

  Cat Eater shifted his gaze over Parker's left shoulder and stared directly at me through the windshield with what I can honestly say were the coldest eyes I'd ever seen.

  It wasn't hard to scowl at him, but I hoped he'd fall for the subterfuge. I was no better at acting now than I was in high school.

  He looked beyond the Rover, as if checking to see who might be coming. "That's good to know," he said to Parker, "but why are you stopping us?"

  And there it was. Exactly what Parker had been banking on. These guys had no interest whatsoever in getting caught up in any kind of murder investigation. Killing a single ranger who got in their way was one thing, but taking on an army of Marshal's deputies and FBI homicide agents was altogether something different.

  "You and your friends are in the area," Parker said, "and I'm looking for potential witnesses to help me work out a timeline. Did anyone in your party see either of these people earlier today?"

  Cat Eater looked at Renner again. "We may have seen the ranger out and about, but you know how it is. He's just a uniform."

  "He was a helluva lot more than that," Parker said, an edge of anger in his tone. "He was a Deputy U.S. Park Ranger and I'm guessing he had a wife and kids who love him. And that's not something I take lightly."

  Cat Eater's eyes narrowed slightly, then softened. "I didn't mean any offense. I'm just trying to point out that if we saw him, we wouldn't take much notice."

  "And the woman?"

  He stared at me again. "Oh, I think I'd remember her. She looks like she's been hit by a train, but she's quite the beauty."

  Parker nodded toward their vehicles. "What about your friends?"

  "Believe me, they're as clueless about all this as I am. We came here to do a little hunting and we've been together the whole time."

  "What about gunshots? Did you hear any?"

  "We did, but that's nothing unusual out here. We fired off a few ourselves."

  Parker nodded. "What's your name?"

  The eyes narrowed and softened again. "John Weis. But most people call me Jack."

  I doubted either part of that was true, but the lie had come effortlessly, so he probably had the ID to back it up.

  Parker didn't ask him for it. "You live in Houston?"

  "Yes I do. We all do."

  "All right, Mr. Weis. You and your friends are free to leave. And I'd make it quick, because this area is about to get very busy, very fast. It's a crime scene now."

  I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw a trace of uneasiness in Weis's expression. He'd come here to get something and he'd failed. That wouldn't make his employer happy. And it also meant they hadn't found Ethan, who might still be alive.

  Then again, maybe he just needed to pass a little gas.

  "I appreciate the courtesy, deputy. But we were headed home anyway. Turns out this is a bad day for hunting."

  Parker gestured to the body. "I think he'd agree."

 
Weis smiled again. The forced, charmless smile of a soulless man. "I hope you can make the charges stick. She looks like she could be dangerous. Wouldn't want her running around causing more trouble."

  "Oh, we'll make them stick, all right. You can count of that."

  Weis nodded, then turned, went back to the SUV and climbed inside. A moment later, as they roared past the Land Rover, he turned and looked at me. He formed a gun with his thumb and forefinger and pretended to fire.

  Then they were gone in a cloud of dust.

  As it dissipated, Parker came around to the passenger side and opened the door. "I've got a feeling this isn't the last we'll see of those guys. Are you ready to tell me what's going on?"

  SIXTEEN

  So I told him. And I didn't go with the bullet points version this time.

  As we headed to the Trailblazer to radio for help, I spoke quickly, giving him most of the details—Hap dying at the controls, the possibility that he'd been poisoned, the parachute jump, the trees, getting lost, Cat Eater and his team chasing us…

  The only thing I left out was the depth of my relationship to Ethan. I told Parker we were old high school friends and left it at that.

  The rest could wait until later.

  "If Wilky's involved, he's a dead man," Parker said. "And so is Swan."

  "Easy, tough guy. I appreciate the sentiment, but why don't we let the courts handle them?"

  "Swan's got money, so chances are good he'll buy his way out of trouble. And Wilky's well-loved in the business so we'll have a hard time proving he had anything to do with this. Assuming he did."

  "Who else would do it?"

  "I don't know. Maybe your prisoner? He certainly had a lot to gain."

  "That's ridiculous, " I said. "He was in cuffs the whole time. and if he was that cold-blooded, he would've left me on the plane."

  I suddenly realized how defensive I sounded and saw the skepticism in Parker's eyes. But we didn't have time to argue about it. If Ethan was alive, every second counted. We could carry him down the hill, but we'd need a Medivac team to get him straight to a hospital.

  Parker went to snatch the mic off the Trailblazer's dash, then paused, taking a closer look at the radio.

  "Dammit," he said.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Some wires have been pulled. Looks like your ranger friend put it out of commission."

  I nodded. "I should have noticed it when I called you. Maybe I could've reacted faster."

  "Don't second guess yourself. Anytime the bad guy gets dead instead of you, that's a win."

  "Not if the prisoner dies, too."

  "Then let's hope he's a slow bleeder." Parker pulled out his cell phone, looked at it and shook his head. "I'm still getting nothing. What about you?"

  I checked mine. "Nope."

  He gestured toward the shack. "And there's no radio inside?"

  "Pieces of one. The dead guy shot it up."

  "Then I guess we'll have to improvise."

  We went back to the Rover and climbed in, Parker behind the wheel. He fired up the engine and headed up the narrow road toward the clearing where I'd first seen Cat Eater.

  I once again marveled at how close Ethan and I had been to finally finding the path to civilization before Swan's men started shooting at us.

  Parker said, "So, high school, huh? How well did you know this guy?"

  I didn't want to get into this discussion. Not now. "He was a friend."

  "A friend friend or a… friend?"

  The Rover bounced hard over a deep rut and I bit back a groan. That parachute jump had really done a number on me. "Does it really matter?"

  Parker frowned. "I know what that means."

  "You don't know anything."

  "It explains why you were so distant when I called you on the plane. Have you been in touch with this guy before?"

  "Can we talk about this later?"

  "I'm just curious, Kelsey."

  "No," I said. "I haven't been in touch with him. This is the first I've seen or heard about him in nearly eight years."

  "Did you know who he was when you took the job?"

  I spun my head toward him. "What are you insinuating?"

  "Take it easy. It's just a question."

  "Well the answer is no. Ethan was using an alias, so I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Happy now?"

  "I don't know why you're so upset," he said. "If this guy's an old boyfriend and you still have feelings for him—"

  "Where the hell is that coming from?"

  I knew he must have been picking up on the guilt I'd carried with me ever since I'd stepped on that plane, and for reasons I couldn't quite grasp, it made me angry. This whole topic of conversation made me angry.

  "Relax, Kelsey, I'm not accusing you of anything. We've all been there at one time or another and—"

  "Can we please talk about this later?"

  My tone was loud and abrupt and it shut us both up for an undetermined amount of time that felt like half a century. We rode in silence until we reached the clearing, then Parker pulled to a stop and killed the engine.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "It isn't every day you survive a plane crash and get shot at by hired killers. Although I'm sensing a pattern in this relationship."

  He smiled. "Hey, I was in Dallas this time."

  I nodded. "And next time I'm going with you."

  We both laughed, a momentary release of stress after a particularly stressful day. Then Parker leaned over and kissed me. "I thought you were dead."

  The words were laced with emotion.

  "I know."

  He nuzzled my neck. "I'm so glad you're not."

  "So am I."

  Then we kissed again, both wanting to make it last but knowing we couldn't. We had a life to save—if that was even possible at this point.

  We broke apart and got out of the Rover and I checked the trees and rutted landscape around us, using memory to take us up the slope to the large cave Ethan and I had bypassed.

  The crevice to the right remained untouched, the branches and bushes right where I had left them, making it invisible to anyone but the keenest observer.

  "He's in there," I said.

  "Where?"

  I went over and pulled away some of the bushes and Parker eyed it with surprise. "Nice. You did good."

  "Thanks."

  I turned sideways and slid through the crevice until I was inside the small cave—

  —and stopped short.

  The cave was empty.

  Ethan was gone.

  In his place was a patch of blood, soaking into the dirt, and several small rocks that looked as if they'd been laid out to form a message—but it was hard to tell in this light.

  I took out my cell phone and used the flashlight app to illuminate the words:

  S O R R Y P O O K S

  PART THREE

  Agony and Ecstasy

  SEVENTEEN

  "Pooks?" Parker said. "Who the hell is Pooks?"

  I felt my face growing warm. I wasn't sure why I was blushing but between his question and the realization that I'd allowed myself to fall for Ethan's ruse, I felt pretty embarrassed. The origin of the pet name was embarrassing enough on its own.

  Pooks was short for pookie, which is a common enough endearment for someone you love, but it was also what Ethan called the southern part of a girl's anatomy.

  Her pookie.

  He'd told me he had picked it up from his younger sister, who had referred to the family feline as her "pookie cat," and being a guy, he had co-opted the word for his own amusement. And unlike terms other boyfriends have used (ranging from the insulting to the absurd), I thought it was kind of cute.

  We laughed about it, of course, and being teenagers in love, caught in the spell of illicit—and frequent—sex, we got a secret thrill every time he called me that in front of others.

  Oddly enough, I had never reciprocated with a name for him. But now, staring at that message, I could think of a few I wa
nted to hurl at him.

  S O R R Y P O O K S

  "It's what Ethan called me in high school," I said to Parker. "And don't ask."

  I had no intention of going into detail.

  He chuckled grimly and shook his head. "This guy's a piece of work. I thought you said he was close to death?"

  "He was. Or at least I thought he was. He was wounded, for sure—there was blood all over him—but apparently it wasn't as bad as it looked. You wouldn't know it by the way he was acting."

  "You expect anything less from a con man?"

  I had from Ethan, but shook my head. "I guess not."

  "He probably took off the minute you were out of view."

  I blew out a breath. "I feel like such an idiot. I can't believe I let him play me like that."

  "I'm guessing he doesn't put much value in old relationships. He almost got you killed, too."

  "You still think he may have had something to do with the plane crash?"

  "I don't know, but I'll be sure to ask him about it when I bring him in."

  I looked out through the crevice toward the acres and acres of trees and rock. "Assuming you can find him."

  "Oh, I'll find him all right. It's what I do best."

  "At least that makes one of us."

  He turned then, pulled me close, and kissed me. "Quit beating yourself up, okay? It takes time to learn how to deal with these creeps."

  "Or maybe I'm just better off behind a desk."

  "Baby steps, Kels. Don't be so impatient."

  "This was supposed to be a baby step and look where it got me."

  "You're still alive, aren't you? That's all that matters at this point. Now let's call the feds, get our stories told, then go home and patch you up."

  "Sounds like a plan. I feel like I've been rode hard and put away wet."

  He showed me a bemused smile. "One of your old movies?"

  "What else?" I told him.

  Then he kissed me again.

  EIGHTEEN

  I couldn't remember when a shower had felt so good.

  When I relocated to Houston a few months before, Parker and I rented an apartment together and made sure that we got a master bathroom with the biggest shower we could find. This one had travertine tile and was large enough to accommodate a family of four, with two brushed chrome shower heads and a rain spigot for good measure.