Read No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 Online

Authors: Sara M. Barton

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No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (32 page)

BOOK: No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7
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“Come on,” I urged Uncle
Jack’s Camry for the third time.

“Don’t flood it!” Hector
hollered at me. “Move over!”

Once again I started to
clamber over the console, but as soon as I landed in the seat, the
door popped open and I was yanked out unceremoniously and dumped on
the ground.

“Hands on the wheel!” Axel
screamed. “Where I can see them!”

I rolled out of his way as
best I could, but our legs got tangled. Axel lost his balance,
tumbling into the passenger seat, well within Hector’s reach. I saw
the flash of the blade just before it came down on Axel’s exposed
hand. The yelp of agony as the blade twisted into raw flesh cut
through my psyche with a pain greater than I could endure. I don’t
know what made me do it. Thirty years from now, I don’t think my
memory of it will be any clearer. All I know is that one moment I
was lying on the ground like some limp rag doll and the next, I was
flying through the air, crossing the distance to the other side of
the car, and wrapping my arms around Hector’s head, trying to make
it impossible for him to continue stabbing Axel. There was only one
flaw with my plan. I left myself vulnerable to the long reach of a
frenzied murderer.

 

Chapter Nine --

 

“Let him go!” I screamed, as
I grabbed Hector from behind. I covered his eyes with my hands,
trying to obscure his vision. All I could think of was that I could
not let him destroy those ice blue eyes that were already haunting
me with their beauty.

Hector really was an
experienced killer and that gave him the edge. With an unexpected
backward lunge, he sent me flying out of the car. As I fell
backwards, my bottom bounced along the pavement, but there was no
time to think about the indignity of it all. When I finally came to
a stop, I saw that Hector was yet again attacking a blood-soaked
Axel.

“No!” I screamed.
“No!”

The knife rose and fell
again and again in the time it took me to get back to the car. This
time, I was wiser. This time, I decided, I would have the
advantage. With a firm grip on Hector’s thinning hair, I sent his
head sideways into the steering wheel, pounding it into the hard
edge, and I didn’t stop, even when he tried to body slam me again.
I was ready for him when he launched himself into me. I held on
tight and pulled him along with me as I flew backwards. I hit the
hot pavement first, and when Hector landed on top of me, I felt the
breath leave my lungs. Seconds later, Hector rolled over on his
side, knife still in hand, and raised his arm, poised to slice
right through me.

“Drop your weapon!” Axel
commanded. He was leaning out of the car, blood dripping from the
cut above his eye, his handgun raised at Hector. With an evil smile
on his face, Hector looked at me and brought the knife down in a
sudden, sharp jab. In that fraction of a moment, I cowered, trying
to scramble away, and when the blade pierced my skin, the cold heat
numbed me. In some kind of animated slow motion, I gazed down at
the spot where the blade had slashed my upper arm. There was a
sharp crack that rattled the calm afternoon, and then there was
darkness. I found myself suffocating under the deadweight of the
murderous Hector Fernandez, all two hundred-plus pounds of
him.

“Kelsey!” There were noises
all around me as a crowd gathered. I could hear sirens in the
distance, growing closer. Hector’s heavy body was rolled off me by
an octopus with many hands. And then Axel was bending over me,
frantic. “Stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”

“Me?” I tried to sit up, but
I couldn’t do it on my own. My left arm was a bloody mess. Someone
grabbed my hand and held it in the air above my head. Someone else
supported my back.

“What about you? You’re
covered in blood!” I cried.

“Superficial cuts. I’m fine!
See?” He tried to reassure me, but I remained unconvinced until he
wiped away the blood and I saw the cuts on his skin weren’t as bad
as I imagined. “I’m very good at dodging a knife. Bullets, not so
much.”

“Looks like Hector wasn’t
any good at that either,” I sighed. The dead assassin lay face down
in a pool of red a few feet away. I still could see those eyes in
his final moments of life, the maniacal gleam as he brought down
the knife in his defiant final act.

The local cops were pouring
out of police cars and steering the crowd away from the scene of
the crazy chaos. Axel put his gun down on the pavement and stepped
back, hands in the air. Moments later, I could see the faces of
uniformed cops as they hovered over me. One of them tapped Axel on
the shoulder.

“Ambulance just arrived.
I’ll wave them over. And I’ll notify folks we need the
coroner.”

“Thanks.” Axel’s smartphone
buzzed in his pocket. With one arm around my shoulder and the other
working the phone, he managed to convey the seriousness of the
situation to Special Agent-in-Charge Devry, now back in his
Washington office. As I listened to the conversation, my bicep
began to throb, even as someone wrapped a towel around the wound
and applied pressure. I forced myself to think of something,
anything, other than the searing heat of the angry wound. From what
I could hear of his conversation, it sounded like Agent Devry was
putting pressure on Axel to explain himself.

“No, sir. I did not follow
the guy. I followed the girl. I wanted to tell her something. Yes,
I know I could have just called her, but it was the kind of thing
you have to say in person. Yes, she seems to be alert. Got to go,
sir. The stretcher’s here. Okay. Okay. I really have to go, sir.
Okay, okay. I will. I’ll call you with an update. Right. Yup. Roger
that. Out.” Axel leaned back on his knees and got up.

“What a grouch! The man
wants to know what I was doing following you to St. Michaels. Nosy
bugger. Let’s get you patched up,” Axel said, stepping aside as the
stretcher was wheeled up.. Two emergency medical technicians toted
their paraphernalia, setting up shop at my feet.

“Looks like a simple flesh
wound,” the EMT decided as she examined my arm. “There might be
some muscle damage. Let’s get you to the ER for a
look-see.”

The cop in charge was
already interviewing eyewitnesses. Apparently, quite a few people
had watched in horror as Hector tried to force me into the car, and
they had seen Axel rush to my rescue. The 911 operator reported
multiple calls of an attack in progress.

I was eased onto the
stretcher, gently reclined to a half-sitting position, and strapped
into place. Someone grabbed my purse from Uncle Jack’s car and
tucked it between my legs. I felt fingers squeezing my right
hand.

“Listen,” Axel said gently,
leaning close to my ear. “I have to stay here because I discharged
my weapon and killed a suspect. This is sticky because I’m working
undercover and we don’t want to blow the investigation. Can you go
to the hospital without hating me for not being there for you? I’ll
get there as soon as I can.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. But you
need to get stitches for some of those cuts,” I pointed out. “Make
sure you don’t hang out here all day. I don’t want you losing a lot
of blood because of that creep.”

“Does that mean you care?”
Axel gave me a boyish grin and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be there
as soon as I can.”

A detective met the
ambulance at the entrance to the hospital and followed as I was
wheeled in. He was very excited.

“Ms. Dunham, I want to show
you a photograph and ask you to confirm if you’ve seen this man.
Can you do that?”

I nodded and waited for him
to show me what was on his tablet. As I gazed down at the mug shot
the cop offered me, I saw the face of Hector Fernandez staring back
at me.

“That’s him! That’s the guy
from the auto train! That’s the guy who tried to kill
me.”

“I have bad news for you,
miss. This man is a professional hit man. He’s wanted on numerous
federal charges. We have instructions to coordinate with Washington
on this. The DEA is sending a team down here.”

I did my best to act
surprised. Clearly this was not a typical situation for the Easton
Police Department, any more than it was for me. At least Special
Agent-in-Charge Devry was already taking control of the
situation.

The emergency room at
Memorial Hospital wasn’t crowded at this time of day. I was quickly
admitted and brought to a treatment room. The nurse came in and
took all my vital signs, cleaned up the wound, and called in the
intern, who in turn examined me and notified the resident on call.
The resident put me through a series of finger and hand movements
before calling for an orthopedic surgeon. They held a whispered
conference about the knife wound before informing me that the type
of knife used on me had created a more serious wound, requiring a
specialist, because the edge of Hector’s blade was serrated,
designed to inflict maximum damage. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Osmet
came bounding cheerfully into the room, looked me over, and gave me
a whistle.

“What do we have here? A
shark attack? Don’t you know it’s not a good idea to swim with the
big fish?”

“I do now,” I agreed,
grimacing. The burning fire of the wound was almost as excruciating
as the pain.

“So,” said the doctor,
slapping on a headlamp as he moved in for a look. “How did this
happen?”

“I was attacked by a
professional killer.”

“No, really. What happened?”
Dr. Osmet wanted to know. By the time I finished the recap of my
day, he had carefully stitched up the tear in the muscle and the
ragged flesh of the knife wound, bandaging me in a neat package.
“I’ve had people go through plate glass windows with less damage
than you had, Ms. Dunham. It’s a good thing your attacker didn’t
have better aim.”

“Stick around, Doc,” I told
him. “My rescuer is going to need stitches, too.”

Axel was driven to the
hospital by one of the cops, arriving as I was waiting to be
discharged. The emergency room process began anew for him, but
luckily he was in the room across from me. I waited with him as the
nurse cleaned him up, the intern checked him over, and the resident
consulted. When the resident left to call Dr. Osmet, Axel had a
chance to drop a jawbreaker.

“Guess what. It was no
accident Hector Fernandez Jiminez deliberately followed you here.
Apparently, Kelsey, you got under the guy’s skin. Our inside guy
says that Hector told a colleague he was going to teach you a
lesson for disrespecting his manhood.”

“Does this mean the cartel
will come after me?” My heart skipped a beat.

“Nope. They think Hector got
out of line with you because his hormones were insulted. The cartel
doesn’t like to draw attention to itself, because it brings
negative attention and law enforcement scrutiny, and since this is
a man-woman thing, they’ll let it go.”

“Thank God for
that.”

By the time they called Dr.
Osmet back to sew up the wounded DEA agent, it was nearly three in
the afternoon.

“Warren must by having a
cow,” I remarked as Axel and I sat watching Dr. Osmet take tiny
stitches with nearly invisible thread.

“What time is the opening?”
Axel asked.

“Six.”

“We’ve got plenty of time.
I’ll drive you there and explain it all to the contentiously
cantankerous curmudgeon.”

“What an apt description of
my boss,” I chuckled.”He
is
a curmudgeon!”

“I do have a way with words,
don’t I? Clearly none of this was in your control. Who knows,
Kelsey. Maybe I can talk him into letting you go.”

“Good luck with that,” I
laughed. Turning to Dr. Osmet, I explained. “My boss is a
jerk.”

“I’m trying to convince this
lovely lady to quit her job and move to New Jersey, to be with
me.”

“How long have you two been
dating?” Finishing the last stitch, Dr. Osmet tied it off with a
careful loop and a big snip from tiny scissors.

“Technically, Doc, we’ve
never even been on a date. But I knew the minute I laid eyes on her
this morning that she was something special.” Axel waited patiently
as the doctor wrapped gauze around his wrist. He was sporting an
adhesive bandage on his forehead, applied by the resident, and he
looked like he had been on the receiving end of a bad
beating.

“Ah,” Dr. Osmet laughed. “I
met my wife in the middle of a four-car pile-up in Honduras, when I
was a young medical student at a rural health clinic and she was an
injured tourist. We’ve been married almost twenty-five years now.
If it wasn’t for that bump on the head, she probably never would
have paid any attention to the likes of me, but I knew the instant
our eyes met that I was going to pursue her to the ends of the
earth. Some things just are.”

I looked at Axel and he
returned the glance. Dr. Osmet watched us.

“It’s true, you know. The
eyes really are the windows to the soul. Good luck to both of you.
Enjoy the rest of your lives together.” As soon as the door shut
behind the doctor, Axel gave me a long, lingering gaze, watching me
wistfully from his perch on the examination table.

“Ah, looks like the eyes
have it!”

BOOK: No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7
6.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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