Final Target

“Stay out of it. Your job is to make sure my daughter is safe. Period.”

  “And the woman?”

  “ I warned her. She’s on her own.” Andreas turned and opened the door. “ Let me know when you hear something.”

  He sat down in the chair beside Cassie’s bed again and took her hand. Damn Melissa Riley. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get herself killed. Why couldn’t she have resigned herself to looking out for her own neck instead of worrying about Michael Travis? She was emotional and unreasonable and thought you could spin the earth on its axis if you cared enough.

  And very much like his Chelsea. The thought popped out of nowhere into his head. He could see his wife doing exactly what Melissa was doing under the same circumstances. He’d been having the devil of a time keeping Chelsea from flying out here since he’d told her they had a good chance of getting Cassie back. She would have—

  Cassie was squeezing his hand.

  He went rigid. His gaze flew to her face. “Cassie?”

  Her eyes were closed and her body was stiff, arched as if she were in pain. Her grasp was tightening until it was like a vise.

  “Cassie, talk to me,” he said unevenly. “ Let me help you. Please.”

  Melissa tore through the stand of trees and up the hill.

  Go faster.

  She slipped and caught herself before she fell.

  She heard something. The throb of an engine. A helicopter? Travis?

  Jesus, she hoped not.

  She was going down the hill on the other side. Lord, she hoped she was headed in the right direction. What if Cassie hadn’t remembered correctly? She was only a little girl.

  And maybe there was more than one picking shed that had survived the years.

  No second thoughts. It was too late now.

  The sound of the helicopter had stopped.

  Another hill. Was the shed on the other side?

  Her lungs hurt and her breath was coming in gasps.

  Keep going.

  She stumbled. It was fully dark now and hard to see the ground in front of her. She reached the top of the hill.

  Nothing. Only another valley and the next hill.

  Go on. Don’t give up.

  But hurry. She had to hurry.

  Travis falling, dying . . .

  Cassie screamed.

  Andreas jumped. Another nightmare?

  She bolted upright. “Michael!”

  For the first time, Andreas noticed her eyes were open. “Oh, my God.” He snatched her into his arms, tears pouring down his cheeks. “Sweetheart, you’ve come back to us. I’m so —”

  “Michael.” Her arms tightened around Andreas. “Daddy, the monsters. Blood. They’re killing Michael.”

  “Shh.” Andreas pressed a kiss to her forehead and rocked her. “Everything’s going to be okay. Everything’s okay now.”

  “ No.” She was sobbing. “ It’s like before. The monsters—and you weren’t here.”

  “ I’m here now.”

  “ It’s happening again.”

  “ No, you’re safe. We’re all safe.”

  “ No, it’s not true.” Her eyes widened in terror. “Michael!”

  Travis had landed.

  Deschamps faded closer to the bushes beside the shed, his gaze on the helicopter several yards away. The anticipation was a twisting hunger within him. It had been too long. Come out. Let me see it. Let me see what’s mine.

  There was no moon tonight, and in the darkness he could barely discern the shadowy figure of Travis at the controls. Why wouldn’t he get out? Then he realized Travis was just being cautious. He’d be vulnerable as he got out of the helicopter; that was why Deschamps was waiting for the pilot’s door to open.

  Maybe Travis was sensing something wrong.

  So he’d have to be very still until Travis felt safe.

  Minutes passed.

  Why wasn’t the bastard moving?

  He edged closer and then closer still.

  He was almost at the aircraft when he stopped short. The figure wasn’t Travis. It was a jacket wrapped around a dummy. The passenger door stood open.

  Travis was out!

  “Shit.” Deschamps dove for the ground. Travis could be anywhere.

  A flickering light suddenly beamed from the shed. The door was open. . . .

  Melissa saw the light in the shed as she crested the hill. The silhouette of a helicopter was visible nearby.

  It was already happening.

  She was sobbing as she tore down the hill. Wait for me. Don’t let me get this far and not be able to help.

  The door was open. Deschamps might be just inside.

  Screw him. If she delayed for even a moment, it might be the end for Travis.

  She stood in the doorway, her gaze frantically searching the cavernous shadows for Travis.

  She saw Deschamps first at the far end of the room. He was moving, stalking, staring at something in the shadows. Travis?

  No, Travis was rolling from under the table, gun in hand, rising silently to his feet. His concentration was fixed on Deschamps, who had his back turned to him.

  She held her breath. Do it. Shoot him. Don’t let him turn around.

  No!

  Travis was turning his head. She hadn’t made a motion, but he must have caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes widened as he recognized her.

  And Deschamps was turning around!

  The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion as Melissa tore the short distance across the room. She launched herself at Travis, her arms encircling his waist as she pulled him down.

  Too late.

  She heard him grunt and felt the jerk of his body as the bullets hit him.

  She’d failed, she realized in agony. Deschamps had killed him.

  They hit the floor. Wood splintered next to her cheek as Deschamps got off another shot and hit the lantern on the post. The lantern fell and the candle snuffed out.

  Darkness.

  Travis’s gun was beside him. She fumbled for it and rolled under the table. She knocked over a chair and pulled it close as a shield.

  “ You can’t get away,” Deschamps called. “ I’ve killed Travis. Who’s going to protect you now?”

  Her eyes stung with tears as she looked at Travis on the other side of the table.

  “ You’re afraid, aren’t you? I might let you go if you give up right now.”

  “Screw you.” Jesus, how could she see to shoot him when it was pitch black?

  “ You can’t stop me. Do you know how long I’ve waited for that statue?”

  Another shot. A hot stinging as the bullet ricocheted off the chair and grazed her left arm.

  “Give up. You don’t have a weapon, or you would have used it already. I’m getting impatient. I don’t have much time before Andreas gets here.”

  “Andreas isn’t coming. He never intended to come. It was all a trick. So that makes you pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”

  “ You’re lying. I checked out the area for miles around. Only the main house is guarded.”

  “ I’m not lying. It was a setup. Even if you kill me, Andreas will scoop you up before you get ten miles from Vasaro.” A bullet whistled by her ear. He was aiming at the sound of her voice just as she was trying to gauge where he was. “ Why are you wasting time? Get out of here and make a run for it.”

  “ I won’t have to make a run for it. I’ll take the helicopter Travis arrived in . . . after I get the Wind Dancer.”

  The Wind Dancer. She could see the gleam of gold on the table above her. Would it lure him close enough for her to get a shot at him? Or would one of his bullets strike her first?

  Another shot. Very close.

  She gasped and then gave a low cry.

  Deschamps grunted with satisfaction. “All right. You’ve gotten in my way for the last time.” Silence. “Did it hurt? I hurt your sister, didn’t I? I saw the blood spurting out of her before I ran out.” He stopped, listening.

  He wa
s testing her, hoping she’d break if the bullet hadn’t hit her.

  “ I was hoping to be able to take my time killing Travis. I admit I’m disappointed. I wanted to see him hurt. I haven’t felt this much hatred for anyone since I killed my charming stepfather.”

  Bastard.

  “Did you see him bleed when the bullets hit? There are legends about the Wind Dancer having a fondness for blood. Wars . . . the guillotine . . . Do you think there’s anything to those tales?”

  She didn’t respond. Come on, you son of a bitch. Let me see you.

  “ You really shouldn’t have involved yourself. You’re not clever enough. It was pitifully easy fooling you at St. Ives.”

  He was stirring, moving.

  Yes!

  She could sense him on the other side of the room. Come closer. See the pretty statue. Come and get it.

  He was coming. Very cautiously, but he was coming.

  Her hand tightened on the gun.

  Another shot.

  A hot, deep pain in her upper thigh.

  Don’t scream. Don’t move. He had to think she was no threat.

  “ I heard that bullet hit home. There’s nothing that sounds quite like that soft thud. You’re either a Spartan or you’re unconscious or dead. I wonder which it is. I’ll make sure as soon as I get the Wind Dancer.” He was closer, though not close enough. She couldn’t move quickly and she’d have only one chance. “My God, what a thing of beauty it is. I can see those eyes glittering at me in the darkness. It’s almost enough to make a man believe all the stories about it.”

  Shock surged through her as sudden light illuminated the room. He’d relit the lantern. Christ, he was only a few feet away! She froze and held her breath. Her hand tightened on the gun half hidden beneath her body.

  But he gave her only a glance, his attention focused on the statue with total fascination. “Alexander, Charlemagne, the Borgias,” he whispered as he gathered the statue in his arms. “And Edward Deschamps. It has a splendid ring, doesn’t— Shit!” He clutched the statue as he fell to the floor. “ What the—”

  Travis had his arms wrapped around Deschamps’s ankles and yanked the legs out from under him. There was blood everywhere. Travis’s blood. On Travis, on Deschamps. But, sweet Jesus, Travis was still alive!

  Deschamps recovered immediately. His gun swung to point at Travis.

  “No!” The thirty-eight exploded in Melissa’s hand.

  One shot.

  Two.

  Three.

  Deschamps jerked as each bullet entered his body. Blood poured from the wounds in his stomach.

  He looked down in disbelief.

  She fired again and he dropped the gun. “ Bitch.” Tears ran down his face. He clutched the Wind Dancer with his bloody hands and crawled toward the door. “Doesn’t matter. You still won’t win. I’ve got it. That’s all that’s important. I’ve got it. . . .”

  And he might still get to the helicopter and get away. She didn’t know how he was managing to even move. Yes, she did. He was obsessed and Jessica had told her fanatics sometimes seemed to draw on superhuman stores of endurance and strength.

  Jessica.

  No way was he going to get to the helicopter.

  She shot him in the head.

  25

  “ That . . . hurts.” Travis opened his eyes as Melissa pressed a strip of shirt to the wound in his lower shoulder.

  “Shut up. You’re lucky to be alive. Where’s Galen?”

  “ I . . . didn’t need him.”

  “ You ran out on him.”

  “ No one knew he was mixed up in this. Andreas . . . he won’t be satisfied with . . . statue.”

  “ You gave him Deschamps.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “ Yes, and you did it. Do you hear me?”

  He tried to smile. “Strange, I don’t remember that. Are you trying to make me a hero?”

  “ I’m trying to save your neck.” She moistened her lips. “ I never thought I’d get the chance. I saw you dying, Travis. I saw the wounds in your chest and your face. . . . You were dying.”

  “ But you’d tackled me and pulled me down. The bullet didn’t hit my chest.”

  “ You might not have been shot at all if I hadn’t been here.”

  “Or I could have been shot and killed. Who the hell knows?” He closed his eyes. “ Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to sleep. I’m very tired.”

  “Just so you don’t die on me.” Her voice was shaking. “ I went to a lot of trouble to keep you alive.”

  “ Wouldn’t . . . think of it.”

  He was unconscious. Keep the pressure on the wound. She’d put a makeshift bandage on her own leg wound before she’d crawled over to Travis. How to get them both help? Andreas probably wouldn’t come near this place. He wanted Travis and Deschamps to both die.

  Galen.

  She fumbled in Travis’s pocket, pulled out his phone, and began to dial.

  The door was flung open. “Hands in the air!” A half-dozen men streamed into the room.

  Suits. Indisputably CIA. For God’s sake, it was like that break-in yesterday morning at the cottage.

  “ I’m not putting my hands in the air. If I take my hand off this compress, he’s going to bleed to death. Where the hell is Danley? Let me talk to Danley.”

  “ I’ll have to do. Danley’s busy securing the area.” Andreas walked into the room. He looked down at Deschamps. “ Is this our man?”

  “ Yes, I’m sure Danley’s shown you pictures of him.”

  “ But it’s difficult to tell with half his head blown off.”

  “ It’s Deschamps. Travis got rid of him for you.” She added fiercely, “So you get him some help.”

  “ I have every intention of doing that. How is he?”

  “ The bullets went through his shoulder. He’s lost some blood, but he’ll live . . . if you don’t screw up.”

  “I don’t dare screw up. You look like you could use some help yourself.” He motioned to one of the men. “Paulding, you get a medical team out here.” Then he knelt beside her.

  “Leave me alone. I’m okay.”

  “Let Travis go. We’re not going to hurt him.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “Cassie won’t let me.”

  “What?”

  He smiled. “She woke up.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “That was my reaction. I felt like I could walk on air. . . . It was damn wonderful. Even though she was almost hysterical and screaming at me to save Travis. She must have overheard us talking about him last night.”

  She had overheard all right. But not the way Andreas meant. “I told you how she felt about him.”

  “Yes, you did.” He stood up. “We’ll get you back to the house and get the bullet taken out.”

  “Not unless you bring Travis with me.”

  “You don’t trust me?” He smiled. “Ipromised Cassie I’d bring him back to the house. It was the only way I could get her to quiet down. Do you think I’m about to send her spiraling away from me again? I’d move the whole damn world to keep that from happening.”

  She studied his face and then slowly nodded. “I can see you would.”

  “And now I’d better get back and tell Cassie that her hero is safe.”

  “But what about after Cassie is better? Will Travis be safe then?”

  “We’ll just have to see, won’t we? I still want to break his neck.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll see you at the house.” He stopped beside the body and bent down to pick up the Wind Dancer Deschamps was still clutching. “There’s blood on it.”

  “Deschamps said the Wind Dancer liked blood.”

  “Ridiculous. How could it like or dislike anything?” He wiped the blood off the Wind Dancer and then smiled down into its emerald eyes. “After all, it’s only a statue.”

  “Melissa. The monsters . . . Michael!”

  “Shh. They’re gone. Michael is safe. He’s hurt, but
he’s right here beside me. We’re in a van on the way back to the house.”

  “That’s what Daddy said.”

  “Believe him.”

  “But I saw Michael—”

  “I know what you saw. But it didn’t happen. It doesn’t have to happen if we fight it.”

  “Scary out here. Maybe I’ll go back in the tunnel.”

  “Don’t you dare! I’ll go in and drag you out again. What if Michael or your daddy or mom needs you? What if I need you? You didn’t like having your daddy go help Michael, did you? You wanted to do it yourself.”

  “Yes.”

  She had known a child as strong-willed as Cassie would have that response. “So would I. And how can you do anything while you’re in there hiding?”

  Silence. “I’ll stay awhile. It’s kind of . . . nice to be back with Daddy.”

  That she was already beginning to cling to her father was promising. Tentative acceptance was probably as much as Melissa could hope for. Jessica would have known how to deal with her at this stage; Melissa could only go by instinct. “I’ll come to see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Now.”

  “Tomorrow,” she repeated firmly.

  “But I want to see you. I’ve seen you only the way you see yourself.”

  And she wanted to see Cassie awake. “Okay, it may be a while. The doctor’s going to have to take care of my leg.”

  “I’ll wait. Will Michael come too?”

  Melissa looked down at Travis, who had been given a shot by the doctor who had arrived on the scene after Andreas had left. “Perhaps we’ll both go and visit him tomorrow. He got pretty banged up fighting the monster.”

  “But he’s alive?”

  “Oh, yes, he’s alive.” Thank you, God. It was a night for thanksgiving. Thanks for Travis. Thanks for Cassie. “We’re pulling into the driveway. I have to go now. I’ll see you later.”

  “You did come,” Cassie said. “I told Daddy you would. He said the doctor would put you right to bed.”

  “He tried.” Melissa made her way forward in the wheelchair. “And I can stay only a few minutes.”

  “Are you hurting?” Cassie frowned. “You are hurting. I can feel it.”

  “It’ll go away. The doctor gave me some medicine to make sure it does.” She stopped beside the bed and just sat, looking at Cassie. The girl was thin, but the fragility was gone, banished by the sheer vitality in her expression. “You look . . . good.”