Iris Johansen - Quinn

Just as soon as his luck changed.

“WE’RE BEING FOLLOWED,” Catherine said quietly. “Three cars back, far left lane.”

Gallo nodded. “Gray Mercedes.”

“And he knows what he’s doing. Slow down. I’m going to try to get his plate number.”

Gallo slowed, but it took her three attempts to get the number on the front of the Mercedes. The person tailing them was sliding in and out of traffic like an eel. “Very slick. Jacobs?”

“No, Jacobs wouldn’t be doing his own dirty work. Not unless he was forced into it.” He glanced at the mirror. “But he would have a large number of lethal personnel to call on to do the job. It wouldn’t be anyone from Army Intelligence. Jacobs has blown that cover.”

“Another killer like Paul Black?”

“That’s my guess. Jacobs set up someone to protect his back. He knew that he’d be on the run.” He pulled off the freeway. “And this might not be so bad…”

She nodded. “Whoever is following us would probably know where Jacobs is hiding.”

He smiled. “Two minds with a single thought.”

They did think along the same lines, she thought. It was perfectly natural when they had been trained in the same violent schools of engagement. She had discovered that truth when she had been hunting him through the forests. “Then we need to gather him in and squeeze him for information. Pull over to that Holiday Inn, and let’s let him find us.”

“If he wants to find us,” he murmured. “I might have to go find him.”

“We’ll see.” The gray Mercedes was not coming after them, Catherine noticed. Yes, he was as good as she’d thought. It would have been foolish for him to do anything as obvious as driving into the parking lot. He would come back later, check out their room locations, and perhaps position himself for an attack. “In the meantime, while you check in, I’ll try to verify his license plate.”

“Probably a rental.”

“It will be a start.” She got out of the car and glanced at the side mirror. A streak of silver-gray Mercedes shot by the motel entrance. Come a little closer. We’re waiting for you. “Let’s get inside and work on it.”

“EDWARD HUMPHREY.”Catherine looked up as Gallo came in the adjoining door from his bedroom. “Avis Rental. Residence is in Detroit, Michigan. Venable is contacting the FBI and trying to dig deeper. It’s not unusual for a suspect to use the same pseudonym any number of times. There may be a way we can sift it and come up with the right identity.”

“Or not.” He strolled over to the window and pulled back the drape to look down into the motel parking lot. “It may be better to do a little probing ourselves.”

“Is he down there yet?”

“No.” He let the drape fall back in place. “But it’s still early. He may want to give us time to get settled.” He dropped down in the beige easy chair beside the window. “I’ll be the one to go for him. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. How do I know that you’d do a better job than me? We’ll discuss it later.” She wearily rubbed her temple. “But right now, I’m going to take a shower and change my clothes. I still smell of earth and bark and shrubbery.”

“And rotting leaves.” He smiled slightly. “What a shame. I’ve grown to like it.”

“Which only proves how weird you are.” She got to her feet and moved toward the bathroom. “Call me if you need me.”

“Oh, I will. You’ll be the first to know.”

She inhaled sharply as she looked back over her shoulder. Sensuality. Intense and unexpected. Everything had been pragmatic and commonplace. Yet suddenly there was this searing awareness.

Don’t address it. Ignore it.

She quickly closed the bathroom door behind her. Ignore it? Her body was responding the same way it had when she’d watched him wading out of the lake and coming toward her.

She threw off her clothes and stepped into the warm shower. A few minutes later, she was soaping her hair and body. The clean white tile surrounding her was completely different from the primitive lake and forest. No comparison.

Except for the way her breasts were swelling as she thought about Gallo. Except for how her skin felt flushed and silky… and ready to touch.

She had thought that she had overcome the sexual magnetism that had so shaken her. She had coolly separated her emotional and physical feelings from logic, instinct, and reasoning. Had she just been fooling herself?

No, she wouldn’t accept that she would deceive herself just to get what she wanted. The desire might still be there, but it wasn’t what had caused her to embark on this search for Jacobs.

But it could get in the way, dammit.

And Gallo wasn’t going to try to tamp it down or walk away from it.

She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack.

That was okay. She’d do whatever she thought was right for her and let Gallo please himself. She was only responsible for her own path. Catherine had never asked anyone for help except Eve. But there had been no question that she would ask Eve to help her find Luke. Her son was Catherine’s life, and she’d been willing to sell her soul to find him.

And she hadn’t called Luke for the last three days, she realized. It had been toward the end of the hunt, and she’d been completely obsessed with capturing Gallo. Which was another reason why she should distance herself from him. Nothing should keep her concentration from her son. They had not been together for nine years; she owed him all her attention.

She threw on a pair of black pants and white T-shirt and was toweling her hair dry as she opened the door.

Gallo was still lounging in the easy chair, his legs stretched out before him. “Now you smell of lavender. Pleasant, but I miss the-”

“Rotten leaves,” she inserted. “I wish I’d never told you about them.”

“I’m not. It fascinated me learning about Hu Chang and your Hong Kong connection. I studied your dossier before I met you, but it’s the details that create the 3-D image.” He added, “I ordered sandwiches and coffee from room service. Would you like anything else?”

She shook her head as she took out her phone. “I’ll eat later. I have to call my son.”

“It’s nearly ten. He won’t be asleep?”

“He’s a night owl. I don’t try to force him into a neat little cubbyhole. He lived a rough life while he was away from me. I’m just grateful he’s doing as well as he is.” She was dialing as she spoke. “And that he lets me stay in his life.”

“Would you like me to give you a little privacy?”

“Why? I’m not ashamed of our relationship. It is what it is. We’re working our way through it.” She spoke into the phone as Luke picked up. “Hi, how are you doing? Are you reading?”

“No, I was having Kelly teach me about how she does her patterns.” He paused. “I don’t understand it. I don’t think I’m dumb, but she sees things that I don’t see.”

“You’re not alone. Kelly is extraordinary. Her professors say that she’s another Einstein. She can start at the beginning of a theory or puzzle and forecast exactly where it’s going to go.”

“I know all that.” Luke’s voice was slow, thoughtful. “But she says that if I go back and tell her all about the years that I was away from you, she’ll draft a pattern that will help me see things clearly.” He added haltingly, “And if I understand it, then I’ll be able to forget it.”

Catherine had known that Kelly was going to try to help Luke in that way. It was the next best thing to psychological therapy, and Catherine would be eternally grateful if it worked. “Maybe not forget it, but it may help you to let it go. Sometimes, bad things help you to grow, and you wouldn’t want to give up the growth. That would mean you’d gone through it for nothing. I don’t think Kelly would want you to do that. She’s gone through some rough times herself.”