Someday Soon (22 page)

“Someone’s out there,” Francine said without emotion. “Someone who wants you dead.”

Mallory frowned. This woman never ceased to amaze him. “How’d you know that?”

“I heard part of Cain’s message. Who’s Enrique?”

“The hell if I know.” Mallory ran a hand down his face. “He wouldn’t be the first man who wanted to see me six feet under. He probably won’t be the last.”

“What are we going to do?” Francine asked, and bit into her lower lip. He admired her for staying calm and wasn’t sure there were many women with her coolness.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Mallory said, hoping to reassure her.

All at once Francine sucked in her breath and widened her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, hurrying toward her. He gripped her hands in his own, surprised at the strength with which she held on to him.

After a moment she relaxed and smiled up at him. “That, my darling husband, was a labor pain.”

“How strong was it? Is this your first one? How far apart are they?” His heart was pounding so loud, it was sounding out taps in his ear.

“Slow down,” Francine advised, her hands squeezing his. “I’m fine, and so is the baby. I got a bit frightened
there when my water broke, but everything’s going to be all right. What’s our situation like?”

Mallory closed his eyes in an effort to calm his heart and his head. “I don’t know. My guess is that we’re being watched.”

“Can we leave the house?”

“I don’t know that yet.”

“I’m going to lie down,” Francine said without emotion. “More water leaks out every time I have a pain, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be walking around so much.”

Mallory nodded and, taking her by the elbow, escorted her into the master bedroom. He left the lights out and helped Francine onto the mattress.

After adjusting the pillow and bringing her a fresh supply of towels, he asked, “Can I get you anything more?”

“I’m fine.”

Unfortunately Mallory couldn’t say the same thing. He was a wreck. He didn’t know who or what lurked outside his front door. His wife was in labor, and for all his medical experience in the field, he didn’t know shit about delivering a baby.

His phone was out of order. As far as he could see, only one option was left open to him. He had to discover for himself exactly what danger awaited them before he brought Francine out of their house.

His camouflage gear was tucked away in a trunk in the attic. Using a flashlight, Mallory climbed the stairs to where his equipment was stored. He changed clothes quickly and smeared a mixture of black and green paint over his face.

“Tim?”

He heard Francine timid voice almost immediately. “I’m coming, sweetheart.”

Francine gasped and levered herself on one elbow when she saw him. A smile softened her features. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said sarcastically. “It seemed like a good time to dress up for Halloween. What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

“Just where are you going?”

“Outside.”

All at once she bit into her lower lip, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. She seemed to be counting silently, her head moving almost imperceptibly. “How long will you be gone?”

Mallory knelt down on the floor beside the mattress. “I don’t know. Will you be all right alone for a few moments?”

“Of course.” How confident she sounded, as if she gave birth once a week the way some women did the washing. “Just promise me one thing.”

“You got it.”

“Please be careful, Tim,” she whispered, her hands resting over her rounded tummy. “I don’t want to have to deliver this baby on my own.”

“You haven’t got a thing to worry about, sweetheart,” he said with supreme confidence. When it came to fighting for money, Mallory had been one of the best, but this time it was his family. He was protecting his wife and their child; he’d be more than good.

He’d be lethal.

“Are you feeling any better?” Patty asked Linette. She sat on the edge of the mattress and held a tray in her hand. Linette noted that her neighbor had been thoughtful enough to bring her soup. Chicken noodle, from the looks of it, along with several soda crackers.

Somehow Linette managed a weak smile. She felt worse now than earlier. “I don’t know that I can eat anything.”

“Give it a try. A couple of spoonfuls of soup and we’ll see how your stomach handles that. Have you been drinking plenty of liquids?”

Linette closed her eyes. She’d barely gotten out of bed in two days.

“Don’t answer that, I can tell that you haven’t. Here,” Patty said, setting a glass of water next to the bedstand. She stayed with Linette until she managed two pitiful mouthfuls of the soup, and then shook her head, unable to take more.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No. I’m fine. Really. I’ll rest and feel better by morning.”

“I’m sure you will,” Patty said, brushing the hair away from Linette’s brow. “At least your fever’s broken. That’s a good sign.”

“See, I’m already on the road to recovery.”

Cain was on his way home. Linette wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He’d broken his word. He’d walked out on her. Now he seemed to think that all he needed to do was come rushing back and everything would return to the way it had been before.

Wrong.

What Cain failed to realize was that if he had the
option to pick and choose which promises he opted to keep, then she did as well.

Although she’d sold Wild and Wooly to Bonnie, she still felt very much a part of the business. Bonnie was a wonderful manager, but for all her business finesse, the older woman didn’t have the strong personal relationship with the customers that Linette had worked so hard to build. From what Bonnie wrote, several of her former clients had asked about Linette. Even more had inquired about the evening classes she’d once taught.

As much as she tried to tell herself otherwise, Linette missed San Francisco and her life there. She could understand the desire Cain felt to go back to Deliverance Company. Murphy had offered him the perfect reason.

She could understand, but she couldn’t accept that he’d broken his word. He’d left her sitting at home, twiddling her thumbs, waiting like a dutiful wife for her husband’s return.

Patty came back a few minutes later and removed the dinner tray. She carried a thick novel with her. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to read this book. I’m going to soak in a bubble bath until my skin shrivels up into tiny wrinkles. You’ll call me if you need me, won’t you?”

“I’m feeling much better already,” Linette assured her friend. “Take your time and enjoy yourself.”

“I will. I can’t remember the last time I took a bath without little green army men camped along the edge of the tub. This is going to be pure heaven.”

It might have been the soup or the fact she had company, Linette didn’t know which, but she did feel better.
Sitting up in bed, she reached down and plugged in the phone. To her amazement it rang almost immediately.

“Hello,” she said into the mouthpiece.

“Linette? It’s Cain.”

“Hello. Cain?” She wished she didn’t sound so pleased to hear from him, but she was, despite everything.

“Are you all right? Is someone there with you?”

Her hand tightened around the receiver. “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t need a keeper, you know.”

“Who’s with you?”

“Patty Stamp.”

Cain’s response sounded very much like a string of swear words.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I just landed in Florida. Listen, babe, I don’t know if John fully understands the situation.”

“What about Jack?”

“He hasn’t been found yet,” he answered impatiently.

“Then what are you doing back in the States?” She closed her eyes, already knowing the answer to her questions. “Is it because I’m pregnant?”

“Where’s John?” he asked, ignoring her words.

“His house, I suppose.”

Again his response was followed by a list of words she’d never heard her husband use in her presence before. Linette frowned, not knowing what to think.

“Cain, what’s wrong? Patty said the sheriff stopped by to check up on me.”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said in a tight, strained voice that said otherwise. “I was thinking maybe it would be a good idea if you visited Nancy for a few days.”

“My sister-in-law, Nancy Lewis? Whatever for? Cain, there’s something you’re not telling me.” She could hear the alarm in his voice, and if she read him right, it had little or nothing to do with her pregnancy.

“Linette, listen, I made a mistake in leaving you. Jack’s capture was a setup to get me out of the country.”

“A setup?”

“There’s a man by the name of Enrique who wants me to suffer, and the way to hurt me is through the people I love. He’s knows I’m married, and I’m afraid it won’t take him long to discover you’re alone at the ranch.”

Linette sucked in her breath. “Oh, dear God.”

“I’ve already hired a couple of men to watch the house for any unusual activity, but for the love of heaven, Linette, don’t trust anyone. I made a mistake in not making John understand the seriousness of the situation, but I didn’t want to alarm him. I don’t have the luxury of that any longer.”

“What do you want me to do?” Linette’s hand was trembling so badly that it was difficult to keep hold of the telephone.

“You’ll be safer with Nancy. Get there as soon as you can make the arrangements.”

“What about you?”

“I can take care of myself,” he assured her. “But damn it all to hell, Linette, I can do a better job of it if I’m not worried sick about you.”

She stiffened at his words. “I apologize for being such a burden to you.”

He swore again, this time with regret. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything were ever to happen to you or
the baby. You’re my life. I was a fool to have ever left you. Trust me, this isn’t a mistake I’ll soon forget.”

“I sincerely hope not,” she told him.

“I don’t want you to worry, you’re safe for now.”

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “But how will I know the bad guys from the good guys?”

“You won’t, but then it’s unlikely that you’ll ever see either. Just get to San Francisco as soon as you can.”

“But what if I’m followed?”

“You will be,” he assured her.

“I mean by the wrong people,” she insisted. “I don’t want to put Nancy or her family in jeopardy.”

“You won’t, babe, I assure you. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will. You too.”

“I will. I will.”

“And Cain?”

“Yes.”

“Get that son of a bitch.”

Her husband chuckled. “My thoughts exactly.”

There were two men
, Mallory decided. The first had positioned himself outside the barn, and the second was stationed behind a tree and was studying the house. Mallory didn’t know how much time he had before they made their move. He wasn’t sure how much time Francine had, either.

Cold fury tightened his muscles until he had to force himself to relax. He didn’t have the luxury of venting his anger. Just yet. Soon, though. Soon enough these men would pay.

Try as he might, Mallory couldn’t get Francine out of his mind. It was vital on any mission to clear his head of distractions. His wife, her body twisted with labor pains, was more than a minor distraction, however.

She’d attempted to disguise her fears, but Mallory had seen through her brave front. She was frightened. Hell, so was he.

Mallory worked his way around the outside of the barn, circling the first man, taking care to remain as silent as possible. Only he wasn’t quiet enough.

Mallory stopped breathing when a shadowy figure emerged from the barn no more than ten feet from where he was standing. For one horrible moment he assumed there was another man he hadn’t known about and he’d blithely walked into their trap. His heart beat in slow, irregular thuds for several seconds until he realized the figure wasn’t that of a man.

It was Bubba, his cantankerous male llama, the bane of his existence.

Bubba had heard Mallory. Apparently the llama assumed that if Mallory was in the vicinity, it must be feeding time, whether the sun was out or not.

Mallory’s attention went to the gunman positioned alongside the barn. The man, dressed in army fatigues, lifted his head and peered into the thick darkness like a wild beast testing the wind. After a moment he signaled to the second man, who zigzagged across the yard before joining him.

Mallory was a safe distance from the pair but close enough to pick up the majority of their conversation. Luckily he was fluent in Spanish and understood every word.

“What the hell’s that? It looks like a horse,” the gunman stated.

“It’s a llama.”

“A what?”

“A llama.”

“What’s it doing out here?”

“Hell if I know.”

The second man checked his weapon. “Are they still inside the house?”

“The woman is.”

“What about Mallory?”

The second man was silent for a moment, then, “He knows we’re here. He’s out here somewhere, watching, waiting.”

“Let’s get the woman. That’ll flush him out.”

The other man’s soft laugh lacked humor. “Trust me, neither one of us would make it two steps inside that house.”

After a bit more, the two separated. The first man returned to his post near the front of the barn.

Thinking all these visitors should pay him heed, Bubba followed the gunman at a leisurely pace. He stopped and craned his long, sleek neck over the fence, seeking a handout. At first the man ignored the beast, but Bubba, bless his miserable, black heart, didn’t take kindly to being ignored.

He spat at him.

The gunman swore and wiped the slime from his face.

If circumstances had been any different, Mallory would have laughed outright. The hired killer whirled around and cursed the llama vehemently. This was the moment Mallory had been waiting for. Bubba had provided the distraction he needed.

Mallory slithered forward from his hiding place. For an instant all he could think about was Francine and his need to get back to her. All he could see was his wife, waiting inside the house, frightened and worried. His wife, giving birth to his child alone, not knowing if he’d return.

Deliberately he wiped her image from his mind. No longer was he a husband. No longer was he a soon-to-be father. For that moment he was a trained killer.

The first man went down without knowing what had hit him. Mallory ducked behind the side of the barn and waited for the second hired gun to realize something was amiss.

All around him was silence. The kind that broke through sound barriers and rocked men’s souls. The kind that throbbed like a breathing, living beast. The waiting game was about to end.

Inside, Francine’s nails dug into her thick comforter and she struggled not to cry out as a contraction twisted her body. Tim had been gone for hours. Time lost meaning. Between pains she prayed for his safety, knowing that if anything happened to him, the killers would come for her and the baby.

Francine tried not to think about what was happening outside the house. Every ounce of energy she possessed was tunneled into the birthing process.

The pains became stronger. She didn’t know how much longer she could withstand the agony without crying out. Yet she dared not.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she whispered to her unborn child. Her hand rested on her tightening abdomen, which she rubbed, wanting to reassure both her and her infant.

The labor pain came on slowly, working its way from the small of her back around her abdomen, growing in intensity.

“Tim,” she pleaded into the dark silence between deep, even breaths. “Please, oh, please hurry.”

Knowing she’d have two, possibly three minutes to rest between contractions, Francine closed her eyes and tried to relax. She tried desperately not to think about what was happening outside her home. Tried not to think if her husband was alive or dead.

She wasn’t one to give in to panic, but she felt the emotion bubbling up inside her like fizz ready to explode from a pop bottle.

Another contraction arrived, this one more acute than the others. Francine bore it as best she could. By the time the pain receded, she tasted blood and knew her teeth had cut into her lip.

A door slammed, followed by the sound of running footsteps. Before she drew another breath, Tim was kneeling on the floor next to her. He gathered her in his arms and hugged her as if he wanted never to let her go.

“Are you all right?” she asked, brushing the hair from his face, looking for signs that he might have been hurt.

“Yes. Yes. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“No,” she said softly, gripping his large hand with both of hers. “It’s too late for that now.”

“Too late? What do you mean, it’s too late?”

She loved the way his voice rose and cracked with a loving kind of hysteria.

“In case you didn’t know, we’re about to have a baby,” she told him softly, her strength fading.

“I’ve known that for close to nine months. I was there in the beginning, remember?” He spoke fast, running the words together.

“I mean we’re about to have a baby
soon
.”

“How soon?” He was on his feet and backing away from her as if he suspected what she had was contagious.

“Within the hour, I’d guess. The pains are less than two minutes apart. I’m about to enter the second stage of labor.” Briefly she closed her eyes, sensing his fear, facing her own. “I’m going to need your help.”

Tim looked down on her as though he were tempted to turn and run. Again he knelt on the floor beside her and gripped her hands.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

She smiled up at him through her tears. “I love you, Tim Mallory.”

“You must,” he agreed, rolling up the sleeves of his camouflage shirt. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be willing to go through this.”

John Stamp carried Linette’s suitcase out to the car and glanced about him suspiciously. “You’re sure about driving out of here alone?” he asked as if he were looking for her to change her mind. He stood back, waiting for her reply.

“I’ll be fine,” Linette assured him. She didn’t say it, but it was probably safer as well for John and the Stamp family that she left.

John looked to his wife as if seeking confirmation. Patty didn’t seem any more confident than her husband. “This doesn’t seem right to me,” she said to her husband. “I don’t see anyone out here who’s going to protect you.”

“Cain said I should go. Now stop worrying.”

“I wish Cain had said something to
me
,” John muttered.

“Is there a phone number where I can reach you?” Patty asked Linette.

Linette hesitated, uncertain she should give out Nancy’s phone number. “I’m feeling much better now,
don’t fret. I’ll give you a call once I’m settled.” She opened the car door and slipped inside the driver’s side. John held the door open, and it seemed to Linette that he was looking for an excuse to keep her.

“You promise to keep in touch?” Patty asked a second time, her voice slightly higher than normal.

Linette nodded. She reached for the door, and John released it reluctantly. He wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder, and the pair stepped back as Linette started the engine. The driveway had never seemed so long as when she pulled out of the yard.

Once on the main road, Linette reached for the radio and turned on the local station. Anything to fill the silence. Anything to take her mind off who might be watching her every move.

She’d phoned early that morning and booked the first available flight to San Francisco. A call to Nancy and Rob had assured her of a warm welcome. Cain had promised to contact her in San Francisco to be sure she’d arrived safely.

A glance in her rearview mirror revealed a black luxury car coming behind her at a fast rate of speed. Her heart started to pound, but she forced herself to repeat Cain’s reassurances. He’d promised her that she would never see either the good or the bad guys.

The car gained speed. Linette certainly hoped these folks were patient because it might be several miles before there was a chance to pass her on these twisty, curvy roads.

The sedan was practically on her bumper. Suspicious, Linette sped up. The other car increased its speed. Her nervousness mounted with every moment. At long last
the car chose to go around her. Linette wondered at their wisdom. The edge of the road led to a steep embankment, and it made her nervous to look over the side. It had always bothered her to drive this stretch of road without guardrails.

The vehicle pulled alongside her, and Linette knew then that something was very wrong. The two men in the car were looking at her. The two cars were so close, their side panels touched.

Linette refused to give ground. There was none to give. Another two or three feet and she’d be forced over the embankment.

Her heart raced like an oil drill pumping out raw crude. Her fingers felt as if they were fused to the steering column.

So much for Cain’s reassurances. This wasn’t a silly game played by two overgrown teenagers. These men were attempting to kill her.

Adrenaline shot through Linette like liquid fire. The sedan slammed hard against the side of her vehicle, the hit jolting her. Linette screamed in terror at the sound of metal scraping against metal. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as firmly as she’d hold on to a life preserver in a sea storm.

The wheels on the right side of the car were off the road now, spitting up gravel and dirt. She’d lost ground, precious inches.

She realized she wasn’t going to be able to save herself. She’d barely talked to Cain about their baby. She hadn’t had the chance to tell her husband that she’d never been more pleased about anything. Her baby. She refused to allow these men to destroy her child.

From some reserve of strength and determination she hadn’t known she possessed, Linette turned the car directly into the other vehicle. Sparks flew from the clash of steel. Again she was jarred; she felt her head whip to the side and slam against the window. Struggling to remain conscious, she decided she wasn’t going to let them kill her without putting up a hell of a fight.

Her concentration was absorbed in staying on the road. In staying alive. All at once, without warning, she noticed a third vehicle headed straight toward her. A head-on collision was inevitable.

Everything happened in slow motion. Linette slammed on her brakes and instinctively raised her arms to protect her face. The instant her hands were off the steering wheel, the car veered to the right. Two wheels teetered on the ledge of the embankment before catapulting over.

Linette screamed as the car rolled again and again and again. Her cries reverberated inside the car, playing back to her as if from a Swiss mountainside.

Then she knew nothing.

It hurt to breathe. Jack Keller suspected he had four broken ribs and an equal number of broken, nailless fingers. This was what he got for being so stupid. He’d walked right into that trap. After all his years of training, he knew better than to do his thinking with his pecker.

His one good finger on his right hand tentatively investigated the extent of his injuries, and he felt one rib bone jutting out against his skin. He moaned softly. He tried to open his eyes, but both were swollen shut. What
he did manage to see between the narrow sliver of light wasn’t encouraging. It looked as if he were behind bars. How long he’d been there, he could only speculate. Too long.

He heard a pair of voices from the other side of the wall. One sounded vaguely familiar. Enrique’s? No, he decided. He hadn’t seen the drug lord in several days and had no wish to make the other man’s acquaintance again.

Enrique had been full of questions about Cain. Jack had pretended not to know anything. His silence had cost him dearly. He’d talked plenty, but he hadn’t told them anything they could use against Cain.

The faintly familiar voice drifted toward Jack a second time. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was Murphy. But even Murphy’s accent was better than that.

It wasn’t Murphy. It couldn’t be. No one knew where Jack was. This stinkhole was too deep for him to ever be found. The way he figured, with his internal injuries, he wouldn’t last much longer anyway.

He had regrets. Didn’t everyone? He thought about his life. The turns in the road he’d taken, the choices he’d made. Good and bad. He would have preferred to live to a ripe old age and pass on with a loving family gathered around his bedside. Instead he was likely to die without anyone ever learning what had happened to him. He’d decided, early in his army career, to live by the sword. He expected to die by it. And he would.

Consciousness started to fade. Jack welcomed the oblivion.