Full Speed

  That's where his patience ended. He was as hotheaded as Nick could be at times, which was why they understood each other so well and why their friendship had lasted for so many years.

  Rudy climbed from the SUV and stretched. Dressed all in black, he was not easy to make out in the dark, and he liked it that way. He was better able to move about the property unseen. As Nick's head lieutenant and most devoted friend and employee, Rudy saw that things ran smoothly, in both Nick's personal and professional life. He reached beneath the seat for his gun and tucked it into the waistband of his slacks.

  He went to the back of the SUV and lifted the tailgate. Once he'd leashed the dogs, he grabbed a flashlight and led them to the gate. He muttered a few words into the speaker, and it slid open.

  He crossed the highway and followed the path that led through the woods on the other side. The dogs pulled at the leash as though sensing something was about to happen. Some minutes later, he came upon the cabin. He stared for a moment at the window and the faint glow coming from inside.

  Rudy reached for his gun. Very quietly he walked toward the cabin. He aimed the gun and kicked open the door.

  Dave jumped as the door to the cabin burst open and a man stepped inside. Dave's eyes traveled quickly from the gun to the dogs. He removed his headset.

  "Well now," Rudy said, "what have we got here?" He stepped closer. He raised his eyes to Dave, and they locked gazes. Rudy aimed his gun and fired three shots.

  Dave dived to the floor as the equipment literally burst all around him. He grabbed a chair leg and raised it chest high in an attempt to defend himself.

  Rudy laughed, aimed his gun once more, and fired off another shot. The chair leg splintered. He laughed at Dave, reached down, and unleashed one of the dogs.

  Dave cried out as the Doberman sank his teeth into his thigh.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was approaching eleven-thirty when Jamie insisted that Michael take her back to her truck. After she ate her fill at Jeno's—antipasto salad, manicotti stuffed with spinach and ricotta, and a side dish of steamed zucchini— Michael had driven her in his car to a twenty-four-hour bakery for his favorite cannoli and freshly brewed coffee. Afterward, he'd taken her by one of his delis. Jamie had begun to get bored while touring the meat counter.

  She began to think the date would never end. Not only did Michael seem intent on dragging out the evening to the next presidential election, but he also was getting clingy. Jamie did not like clingy.

  Michael, having reluctantly agreed to drive her back, had just fastened his seat belt when his cell phone rang. He checked the number before he answered. "Yes?" He listened.

  Jamie saw the change in him instantly. His face hardened, and his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

  Finally, he spoke. "I'll deal with it later," he said and hung up.

  "Is something wrong?" Jamie asked.

  "Nothing I can't handle." He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Anybody ever tell you that you worry too much?" He drove in the direction of Jeno's, where she had parked Bennett's truck. After remaining silent for a moment he placed his hand on hers. "You're awfully quiet. As a matter of fact, you've been quiet most of the night. Did you not have a good time?"

  "I guess I've got a lot on my mind," she said. "And I did enjoy myself. Thanks for a nice evening."

  "Hey, you took me out, remember?"

  Jamie tried not to think of why she had actually invited him out, because that would only remind her how dismally she had failed. "Then you should be thanking me," she said after a moment. And there was something about Michael that left her uneasy. It had all started when he'd jumped to the head of the line at the restaurant.

  She did not like people who butted in line. She had hated it as far back as grammar school when Iva-Jean Tidwell used to butt in front of her while playing kickball. The teacher had insisted on doing everything, including going to the bathroom, in alphabetical order, but either Iva-Jean had forgotten that the letter S for Swift came before the letter T for Tidwell or she was just plain rude. It wasn't until the last year in fourth grade that Jamie had finally stood up to Iva-Jean, and there had been some serious butt-kicking as a result. In the end, they had both been suspended from school for three days for fighting.

  "I'd like to see you again, Jane," Michael said, interrupting Jamie's thoughts.

  "That's nice," Jamie said, even though it wasn't what she wanted to hear. She supposed part of it was her disappointment in not knowing the identity of the person he'd met with earlier and losing her opportunity to get the license tag number. Not only that, she'd lost her notebook that contained valuable information and it was in the possession of someone who might be dangerous to her and Max.

  "So what do you say?" Michael asked.

  Jamie knew she should be flattered. Michael was handsome and successful, and he drove a nice car. In Beaumont that was reason enough to marry after the first date. It was also to his advantage that he did not have plywood nailed to the front floorboard so that Jamie didn't have to fear falling through the floor each time they hit a bump.

  "I like you, Michael," she said, "but I'm very confused right now. I had no right to invite you out while I'm in the middle of divorce proceedings."

  "I could be a good friend to you at a time like this."

  Jamie suspected he had more than mere friendship on his mind. She knew what the problem was, of course. She had started comparing men to Max, and they always fell short.

  The streets were dark and deserted when they passed Jeno's. Michael pulled behind Bennett's truck. "I don't like the idea of your driving all the way back to Sweet Pea this late at night," he said, gazing at her in the semi-darkness of the car.

  "I'll be fine."

  Once again, he reached for her hand. "You know, we don't have to say good night. You could come to my place."

  "I can't."

  "Because of your husband?"

  "My life is complicated."

  "Then why don't you allow me to make a few decisions for you?" He smiled and hit the automatic lock.

  * * * * *

  Max checked his wristwatch again. Midnight. He looked at Fleas. "Your mistress is late." The dog whimpered and sank to the floor. Max walked over to the hound and gazed down at him. Finally, he knelt beside the animal and petted him. "I'm sure she's fine."

  The dog sat up, yawned, and stretched.

  "What I'd like to know is what we're supposed to do in the meantime." Max picked up some printouts, only to toss them aside. Fleas walked over to him. "What do you say we pop the top on a cold one and find us a wrestling channel?"

  The dog thumped his tail against the floor.

  Max walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. "First, we need to get some food into us. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry." Fleas joined him at the door and stared.

  "You like cold cuts?" Max asked, pulling out a package of sliced ham. He opened the pack, pulled off a piece for himself and one for the dog. Fleas swallowed his in one quick gulp. Next, Max reached for the cheese. "This is what I like about eating at the refrigerator," he told the eager dog. "No dirty dishes to clean up afterward." He held the cheese high and Fleas jumped for it.

  "Hello!" Max shouted. "Would you look at that!"

  The dog wagged his tail as Max pulled out another slice of cheese.

  "Ready?"

  Fleas barked.

  Max tossed the slice in the air, and Fleas jumped and caught it in his mouth once more. Max laughed. "I'm going to tell Jamie I taught you how to do that."

  Once they'd finished snacking, Max grabbed a beer, twisted off the top, and took a sip. He walked over to the coffee table, picked up the remote control, and turned on the TV. He sat down on the sofa. Fleas climbed up beside him and propped his big head in Max's lap.

  "Does your mother allow you on the furniture?" he asked.

  Fleas closed his eyes and began to snore.

  * * * * *

  Jamie wondered w
hat kind of game Michael was playing. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Not a good sign. She straightened in the seat. "Look, it's late, and I'm tired." And annoyed, she wanted to add. She didn't like this gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. "So stop kidding around and let me out of the car."

  "You could sleep in my guest room if you preferred. Tomorrow I would prepare you a nice breakfast."

  "Michael, I—"

  "What if I said I wasn't going to take no for an answer?"

  Jamie felt a trickle of unease run down her spine. She looked at him. His expression was hard to read; she could not tell whether he was serious or merely playing a bad joke on her. "Maybe some other time, but not tonight."

  "Jane?"

  She reached for the handle. "Unlock the car, please." When he didn't make a move to do so, she turned to face him, but she was suddenly blinded by a set of headlights. A patrol car pulled up beside them with two officers inside. Michael pushed a button, and his window slid down silently.

  "You folks having a problem?" the officer on the driver's side asked.

  Michael smiled. "I'm trying to talk my date into a good night kiss, but she seems reluctant."

  The two policemen looked at each other and grinned. Finally, the driver nodded at Jamie. "It's after midnight, lady, and this neighborhood ain't so great. Why don't you give the poor guy a good night kiss so y'all can be on your way?"

  Jamie couldn't deny the relief she felt as she gazed across at the smiling patrolmen. "Well, OK." She leaned across the seat and gave Michael a peck of a kiss on his lips. "Satisfied?"

  "Oh, man, that's really lame," one of the officers said.

  Michael turned to them. "I would probably have gotten a better one if you guys hadn't shown up."

  "Would you please let me out of the car now?" Jamie asked.

  Michael chuckled but hit the automatic lock. Jamie opened her door. "I'll follow you back to Sweet Pea," he said.

  She met his gaze, her own cool. Inside, she was furious. "Good night, Michael," she said, trying to talk around clenched teeth. She already had her keys in her hand by the time she reached Bennett's truck. She unlocked the door, jerked it open, and, in a fit of temper, tossed her purse on the passenger seat as hard as she could. It bounced and landed on the floor. She climbed into the truck, punched the lock down, and started the engine. The policemen waved at her as she pulled away.

  Jamie didn't sigh a breath of relief until she turned onto the interstate, but she was conscious of Michael's headlights in her rearview mirror, could see the anxiety in her own eyes each time she glanced into the mirror and caught her own reflection.

  It was then that she noted the gas gauge, the needle creeping toward empty. Shit. She'd been in such a hurry earlier to reach Knoxville that she'd completely forgotten to stop for gas. She flinched when the warning light came on. She glanced up just as an exit sign came into view, but there was no time to slow and pull off. Michael was right on her tail.

  "Dammit!" she said.

  The interstate held very little traffic, with the exception of a few eighteen-wheelers. The Sweet Pea exit was twenty miles away, and once she took it, there was a lone highway and a series of back roads before she reached the cabin. The gnawing in her stomach worsened.

  Michael's Jaguar closed in on her.

  Jamie suddenly remembered her cell phone. She automatically reached toward the seat beside her, only to find it empty. She glanced over. Her purse was lying on the floor, flush against the passenger door, where it had fallen when she'd thrown it on the seat too hard.

  Jamie felt the truck swerve, and she gripped the steering wheel with both hands. She shot another glance at her purse. She would never be able to reach it. She would have to stop the truck and put it into gear, then lean across the other seat to put her hands on her purse. Bennett's truck was so big she needed both hands on the wheel.

  Another exit sign came into view. Jamie read it quickly. There was a Waffle House in one direction and a campground in the other. No gas station. She passed the turnoff, watching the gas needle. Michael's headlights glared at her; he'd obviously turned on his high beams.

  It seemed as though she had been driving forever when Jamie spied the tall Exxon sign in the distance. She glanced at the needle, kept driving. When the exit sign appeared she didn't bother to turn on her blinker, she just swerved, and the truck barreled down the ramp. Behind her Michael tapped his horn twice and continued on.

  "Have a nice life, creep," Jamie said as she drove toward the gas station. "You just saw the last of me."

  * * * * *

  Max jumped at the sound of a vehicle pulling in. He glanced at Fleas, who was still snoring. "Some watchdog you are." He got up and started for the door just as Jamie came in.

  "Oh, hi," she said, trying to hide her relief at seeing him. "Were you watching TV?"

  "Yeah."

  She just stood there for a moment, staring at Max and thinking he had never looked so good.

  "Is something wrong?" he asked.

  "I'm just glad to be home. Well, you know, here."

  "Glad to see you, too, Swifty."

  Fleas got up and crossed the room. Jamie petted him, and he nudged her with his nose. "Hello, boy," she said.

  "Actually ..." Max paused and glanced at his watch. "I was starting to wonder where you were."

  Jamie raised her eyes to his. "I'm sorry I worried you." He didn't know the half of it, she thought.

  "I've also been waiting for Dave to call." Max scratched the back of his head as though he didn't know what to say. "I was, uh, just about to make coffee."

  "At this hour?"

  "I really should wait up in case Dave calls."

  Jamie tried to move, but Fleas had her pinned to her spot. "Excuse me, please." He raised his head and gave her a sad look.

  "I think he missed you," Max said. "I tried to entertain him, but, well, I can only sit in the back of the truck with him for so long." He smiled.

  "You haven't been feeding him junk food, have you?"

  "No, we both had a nice garden salad for dinner."

  Jamie regarded the dog. "You ate people food," she accused.

  As though realizing he'd been caught, Fleas slid to the floor and covered his face with his paws. Jamie stifled a grin. "I knew it."

  She and Max exchanged smiles. She took a deep breath. She knew she had to come clean with him. "I have something to tell you."

  "Uh-oh. You didn't wreck Bennett's truck, did you?"

  "No, nothing like that," she said quickly. "Uh, Max, I should have told you this earlier, but I was afraid you'd get involved in it and—"

  "Involved in what?"

  "Well, one of the reasons I've been seeing this Michael person is because—"

  "Oh, great, you're about to tell me you like this guy, is that it?"

  Jamie shook her head. "No. Michael had something I wanted, Max."

  Max's gaze slid from her head to her toes. "Maybe it was the other way around."

  "Information, Max," Jamie said. "I thought Michael could give me information on Santoni."

  "What?"

  "You're not going to like it."

  "Tell me anyway."

  "I think I may have seen Santoni or one of his men tonight."

  Max gaped at her. Finally, he crossed his arms over his wide chest. "You've got some explaining to do, Jamie."

  "Promise not to get mad?"

  "Start talking."

  Jamie told him everything, about meeting Michael, his insinuations that someone from the mob was trying to extort money from him, everything. Max's frown deepened with every word. "I knew Michael was meeting the person tonight, so I made it a point to be nearby. I wanted to get a license tag number. I figured we could get Muffin to run a check on it and find out more. Only the guy caught me writing down his tag number and took my notepad away from me."

  "Dammit!" Max yelled the word so loud that Fleas skittered beneath the kitchen table.

  "Now look what you've
done!" Jamie cried. She started for the table.

  "Oh, no, you don't." Max grabbed her wrist and brought her to an abrupt halt. "Fleas is going to be OK, but you're in a shit load of trouble."

  "I knew you wouldn't take this well," she said.

  "Are you crazy! Why would you take a chance like that?"

  "I wanted to help."

  "Jesus Christ, I can't believe you'd do something so ... so insane!" Max released her and began to pace. "God, Jamie, what if something had happened to you?"

  "I'm sorry, Max. I know it sounds dumb, but I thought maybe—"

  "What did you think, Jamie? That you could take on the mob by yourself?"

  "Of course not. I was very careful. But I got a look at the guy, Max. It could have been Santoni himself. He's dark, and he's got long black braided hair. I know it's not much, but it might be something."

  "I don't care," Max said, his tone still loud. "It wasn't worth the risk." He raked his hands through his hair, then paused as though just remembering he'd had most of it cut off.

  "I was just trying to follow a lead," Jamie said. "I'm sorry that I don't have more for you."

  "That is the absolute least of my concerns. This is exactly why I didn't want you to come with me." He turned away from her.

  Jamie stepped closer. "I'm sorry."

  Max kept his back to her. "How do you know the guy didn't follow you home?"

  "It happened before I met Michael for dinner. I wasn't followed. It would have been easy to spot someone tailing me on these mountain roads. I kept checking." Which was true. She'd watched her rearview mirror closely after she'd gassed up and hit the road again.

  "Did it occur to you what it would do to me if something happened to you?"

  Jamie touched his shoulder. "Max?"

  Without warning, he turned, took her hand in his, and pulled her into his arms.

  Stunned, Jamie opened her mouth. Max took it as an invitation and covered it with his own. He pulled her tighter against him so that her body was flush against his. He cupped his palm at the back of her head, holding her in place, as the kiss became even more demanding. He raised back. "Promise me that you won't ever do something like that again."

  "I promise."