Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Desperate to get Jake out of the line of fire, Rachel pushed the chair over.
He had caught her intention and rolled away as he hit the floor. She went down too, sprawling on the rug.
But the gun followed Jake.
Rachel struggled with every shred of resolve to make the man aim away.
The window image. The window, Jake shouted in her head.
She was torn, but she did what he asked.
In the next second, the man swung the gun toward the window and fired. She goggled at the unexpected response, but he was already running toward the shattered glass. He crashed against it, screaming as shards tore into his flesh.
Jake scrambled up, charging after the guy, but he was already through the window. They were on the third story, but he fell only half a story–to the roof at the back of the next building.
Rachel saw him hit the roof, then right himself. The gun was still in his hand. Cursing as he turned back toward them, he started to fire, but Jake had already pulled her away and pushed her to the floor.
A stream of bullets whizzed over their heads.
“Stay low.”
They crawled across the floor, toward the opposite side of the room.
“Grab your bag.”
Her bag. She’d forgotten that she’d packed some clothing only an hour before. That seemed like a thousand years ago. Getting out of here alive was the important point, but she snagged the bag as she passed.
The shooting had stopped.
“He could have gone around front,” Jake whispered as they reached the ground floor.
In the distance she could hear the wail of a siren. Apparently someone had called the police in response to the gunfire.
“But I’m guessing he won’t wait around for the cops,” Jake added.
Still, he peered cautiously around the doorframe before stepping out.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Away from here.”
He led her down the street at a trot. They’d just turned a corner when patrol cars with flashing lights pulled up in front of his building. Uniformed officers leaped out and charged the door.
“Police. Open up.”
When no one answered, they rammed the door open.
Rachel winced. “What about all those antiques?”
“I’ll get Patrick to secure the place later. Meanwhile, we’d better get out of the area,” Jake muttered, ushering her down an alley.
“We still don’t know who that guy is,” Rachel said as she trotted along beside him.
“We’ll find out. We can call him by his fake name, Eric Smithson, for now.”
“How did you think of the window thing?”
“I don’t know. It just came to me while I was staring down the muzzle of his gun. I figured that getting him focused on hurting himself was the only way we could get away.”
She glanced at Jake, then away.
“I didn’t know we could do anything like that. I didn’t know anybody could do it.”
“Neither did I. We almost couldn’t, even with the connection we’ve got.” He turned toward her. “We have to strengthen the bond between us. Make it more certain so that we can count on it when we need it.”
Rachel was still trying to process what had happened.
“Was he watching us?” she asked, hearing her voice go high and thin.
“You mean on the sofa?”
“Yes.”
“Probably. Does it matter?”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“He almost killed us and you’re embarrassed about being seen making out?”
“It was . . . private.”
They were several blocks away. Jake stopped walking and backed into the shadows, pulling her with him.
She came willingly into his arms. The heat that had flared between them blazed up as he brought his mouth down on hers for a hot, frantic kiss that celebrated their escape and promised to take up where they’d left off.
She let her mind open to him. Let him see all the fear that she’d pushed aside.
You were very brave.
Did I have a choice?
Not if we wanted to escape. Speaking of which, I think we’d better get out of the city.
I think that’s right.
He kept her hand in his as he started walking again, the pleasant buzz of connection simmering between them.
Not the headache, thank the Lord. She remembered a trace of it from their first touch.
Now it only seemed to come when they were on the verge of real intimacy, when the mental images were coming fast and furious.
They turned into an alley with rows of garages. As she looked at them, she knew where he was going to stop.
“I guess we’re not stealing a car,” she said as the picture of a late model Mercedes filled her mind. It was Jake’s.
“I have vehicles in several locations around the Quarter.” He gestured toward the garage door. “This one’s kind of a tight fit. Let me drive out before you get in.”
He pulled the car into the alley, then used the remote control to close the door behind him.
When she joined him in the front seat, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t stop a heated scene from flickering in her mind. He was thinking about pushing back his seat, pulling her into his lap, making love to her right there.
Guy thoughts.
“This mind reading stuff is a little inconvenient,” he muttered.
She laughed. “I guess we’ll have to work on . . .” She raised her shoulder. “A shield.”
“How?”
“Do I know?”
He pulled out of the alley and headed across the river into Orleans Parish. Classic rock was playing on the radio. One of the Creedence Clearwater Revival tunes she liked. She was letting the music distract her when the song stopped abruptly.
“We interrupt our regular programming with an announcement from the New Orleans Police concerning a pair of fugitives–Jake Harper and Rachel Gregory. Harper is a New Orleans businessman. Gregory is a French Quarter Tarot card reader.”
“Fugitives?” she gasped.
“Wanted for questioning concerning a murder at the Bourbon Arms Hotel yesterday. Earlier this evening they apparently participated in a shoot-out at a warehouse owned by Harper.”
Jake cursed under his breath.
Rachel struggled to drag air into her lungs. “They think we killed Evelyn Morgan? But we weren’t even there.”
“They didn’t exactly go that far. We’re wanted for questioning.”
“But why?”
“The guy could have left some evidence that makes the cops think we’re involved.”
Her voice rose in outrage as she continued. “Then he shoots up your warehouse, and that’s our fault, too?”
“I’d say he’s done this kind of thing before and he knows what strings to pull.”
“A real pro.” She clenched her fingers on the armrest. “So he’s still after us. And we can’t go to the police for help, because he’s framed us.”
“I think we already agreed not to get the police involved.”
“That was before he attacked us a second time.”
Jake sighed. “We’ve got to figure out who he is and why he came after us. And who Evelyn Morgan really is.”
He slowed when he reached the outskirts of a small town and pulled into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a call.”
“Is it safe?”
“If I keep it short, I think so. I need to talk to my assistant, Patrick.”
A man picked up on the first ring, and his voice was loud enough for Rachel to hear.
“Jake! The cops are after you. It’s on the news.”
“I know. I didn’t do it.” He laughed. “Well, they all say that, but in this case, it’s true.”
“Where are you?”
“Better not say.”
“Yeah. Right. What do you want me to do?”
“Keep things running smoothly until I get back.”
“Of course.”
“And cooperate with the cops. If they want to search my office, let them. I don’t have anything to hide.”
“Okay.”
“Next time I call you, you won’t recognize the number.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“I will.” He hung up, switched off the phone, then hesitated.
“Are you wondering if you should crush it?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I think they can’t trace it if you keep it off.”
“How do you know?”
“Spy novels.”
He snorted, then gave her a considering look. “You okay?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“We will be.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
He kept driving, using a secondary road that took them farther from the city.
Finally, in a town about fifty miles from home, he came to a commercial strip with several motels. After driving past the big chains, he stopped at a smaller establishment.
“What about this?”
“Kind of run-down.”
“I’m sorry. I’d like to have found a nicer place, but this is probably the safest.”
When he parked a dozen yards from the lobby, she clenched her fingers on his arm. “What if the cops come here?”
“I think I can minimize the risk.”
He climbed out of the car and came back carrying an overnight bag. After slipping behind the wheel again, he opened the bag and took out a baseball cap, which he pulled down so the visor partly hid his face.
“That’s going to make a difference?”
“Best I can do with my looks on short notice, but I’m going to tell the desk clerk a story that will throw him off.”
“Like what?”
He sighed. “I’m fooling around with a married woman, and I’m willing to pay for anonymity.”
“Thanks.”
“You have a better way to make him think it’s not us?”
“Mind control?” The way he said it made her stomach tighten. They both had a pretty good idea how they were going to strengthen the bond between them.
When she dipped into his head again, she got confirmation of that. He was thinking he wouldn’t have any trouble convincing the clerk he was here for sex.
Another guy thought.
Sorry. Changing the subject, he said, “Naturally a man in that position would pay in cash.”
“Oh Lord, I didn’t even think about that. We can’t use a credit card, right?”
“Well, not in your name or mine.”
“You have an alternate?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I’ve gotten into some scrapes from time to time. It seemed prudent to be prepared.”
“You’re supposed to be a legitimate businessman. Not a criminal.”
“Let’s not get too far into that discussion.”
“I can find out–from your mind.”
“Yes you can.” He sighed. “Okay. I was having a dispute with some business associates who weren’t too fussy about their methods. I figured that if I had to go underground to keep from getting blown away, I’d better be prepared.”
It wasn’t a detailed explanation, but she got the drift.