Deadly Games Part 13

You do that, Harry thought. "Any news on where Rocco's sister is?" Harry thought. "Any news on where Rocco's sister is?"

"She was supposed to be moved but apparently her son has disappeared. No sign of foul play; they think he sneaked away to meet a friend. The kid's got a cell phone, but he's keeping it off. The mother was refusing to leave until he returned. She's also demanding to speak to Rocco but he's not answering his cell phone either."

"We can use this." Harry took a sip of coffee. "Get word to Dante Johnson about Rocco's nephew disappearing. Mention that Rocco's sister wants contacts. You can bet your a.s.s Dante knows how to get in touch with Rocco. Then monitor the sister's cell phone. Rocco will call her."

Chapter Fifteen.

Springfield, MA October 4, 11:00 P.M.

Mission incomplete.

Find Rufin.

"Almost there." Taz grunted as he withdrew the ice pick from his thigh. The slender metal pick created a neater, smaller wound than a knife. It also preserved his clothing and conserved his ability to self-heal, which had grown erratic.

The best part, though, was that the pain of ramming an ice pick straight to the bone was far more excruciating than simply cutting muscle with a knife. And the more intense the pain, the longer the moments of clarity lasted.

He sheathed the ice pick. Something else to thank Hades for. During one of their recent connections, Hades had reminded him of the tenets of self-administered pain. Short and extreme served better than long and less intense.

Hades had also been ready to help when Taz began experiencing brief but powerful bursts of hallucinations. Hades had mentally guided him through the process of compartmentalizing.

Break it down.

Prioritize.

Focus on a single task.

It had worked.

But at a price. When Taz allowed his connection to Hades to open fully, he'd given Hades complete access to his thoughts for a short time.

Hades had quickly exploited the opportunity and discovered where Taz and his hostage were holed up. Taz had felt compelled to release the woman as Hades insisted. In the end, Taz had had to trigger a seizure in Hades to forcibly close their portal.

Then a funny thing had happened. In those scrambled seconds while Hades had writhed in pain, Taz had been granted reciprocal access to Hades' thoughts. That's when he uncovered the connection between Dr. Erin Houston and Dr. Rufin.

Hades' concern for Erin had been off the charts. Mine! Mine! Hades had even established a mind link with the woman, not to exploit or manipulate her thoughts, but to protect. Hades had even established a mind link with the woman, not to exploit or manipulate her thoughts, but to protect.

And during those moments when Hades' consciousness was battling the seizure, Taz had touched that connection to Erin. To Erin's thoughts.

She had visited with Dr. Rufin yesterday, in a Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C. hospital. Rufin had been moved today, to an undisclosed location, while Erin had rushed off to Ma.s.sachusetts.

Right here.

She was currently inside the building, perusing records. What she hoped to find and why it was so urgent wasn't clear. Nor did it matter.

Prioritize.

Find Rufin.

From his hidden spot across the street, Taz watched the building. According to the front marquee, it housed a half-dozen medical businesses most of which had the word research research in their name. in their name.

Though foot traffic was low this time of night, Taz still saw a few people he presumed were employees gain entrance by swiping a magnetic card. A security guard had come by twice in the last hour talking on his cell phone while checking doors.

Taz sensed a mental nudge. It was his connection with Hades.

Cautiously, Taz checked it and found Hades was speaking with Erin, by phone.It's late, why don't you call it a night? Hades said. Erin agreed. Hades said. Erin agreed. I'll call you when I reach my hotel room, I'll call you when I reach my hotel room, she promised. she promised.

Taz quickly cut the connection to prevent Hades from sensing his presence. His eavesdropping.

After crossing the street, Taz moved toward the parking lot and hunkered down beside a large panel van. A few minutes later, a woman left the building, striding purposefully toward the parking lot. She had her keys out and headed toward a dark blue Taurus.

Crouching low, Taz shadowed her. Beneath the sodium lights, her red hair took on a burnished cast. He s.h.i.+fted the ice pick in his grip as he moved up behind her.

"Excuse me, Dr. Houston?"

She gasped and turned, clearly startled.

Even though he had accessed Hades' memories of this woman several times now, Taz wasn't prepared for the emotional jolt of actually seeing her. It was more than physical beauty. It's her eyes, Taz silently acknowledged as he recalled another of Hades' thoughts about Erin. Angel eyes Angel eyes. So big a man could fall into them. So big a man could fall into them.

It was impossible to look at Erin and not feel Hades' love for her. Which in turn brought forth a memory from Taz's own past. A hazy reminiscence of Taz's one true love.

The thought triggered a sharp spike of pain behind Taz's left eye. Memories of love were forbidden.

Taz quickly refocused his thoughts.

Mission incomplete.

Find Rufin.

Erin tried to back away, but Taz stopped her. Pulling her close, he pressed the tip of the ice pick against her ribs."No screams. I just want to talk. Pretend like we're old friends."

"You're Taz, right? I've seen your photograph," she said.

He nodded. "I need your help, Erin."

She relaxed. "We can go inside and talk. It's more private"

"No. Let's drive. You won't be harmed," he said. "As long as you do as I say."

Chapter Sixteen.

Laredo, TX October 4, 9:15 P.M.

Rocco was parked outside a twenty-four-hour Walmart.

"You sure you're up to this?" he asked Gena.

"After everything else I've faced the last twenty-four hours? I think I can handle Walmart."

Her bravado didn't fool him. She had pretended to sleep during the drive, maybe catching an hour of actual rest. The balance of the time had been fitful.

Rocco wished he knew what she was thinking. About Harry? About Lupe? About him? About him? Her habit of internalizing her thoughts hadn't changed. Her habit of internalizing her thoughts hadn't changed.

And badgering her about it would only make it worse. Or so it used to.

Right now, she looked exhausted. Fragile. Yet beneath the surface there lurked a smoldering resentment. Compressed heat and fire. He realized he'd never seen her like this: angry.

"I meant we could wait till morning, if you preferred," he said.

"Seeing as I have nothing but the clothes on my back"-she motioned to her torn s.h.i.+rt-"and even these don't look so hot."

"We'll speed shop. Grab whatever you need for a couple days. We can get more later, if necessary."

"You really think we'll be on the road that long?" she asked.

As long as it takes, he thought. he thought.

The last time he'd talked with Catalina, he'd learned there was nothing new on Maddy, Travis, or Taz. The wait was frustrating for both of them.

"At this point, it's hard to say." Rocco shrugged. "I'm hoping something breaks soon."

"Hoping? Or wis.h.i.+ng?" Gena opened her car door and started to climb out.

Rocco exited the car and came around to help, but she waved him off. He watched how slowly she moved and realized some, if not all, of her short-temperedness stemmed from pain.

They had stopped a second time after leaving the drugstore so he could clean and bandage the rest of her cuts and burns. He'd wrapped her sprained wrist and convinced her to let him check her bruised ribs.

There were probably myriad other bruises and sc.r.a.pes hidden beneath her clothes. When they'd finally pulled over at a diner, she'd picked at her food, eating just enough to have something in her stomach so she could take more ibuprofen.

Rocco touched Gena's arm as they approached the store's entrance. She jerked and moved sideways.

"Don't flinch when I touch you," he whispered. "We're supposed to be married. Remember?"

She glared at him over her shoulder, not slowing down. "Maybe we just had an argument."

Inside the store he grabbed a cart. "Fine. We had an argument. Now I'm apologizing. I was wrong. You were right. Better?"

To his amazement, she smiled. Briefly. It was the first time she'd done so, and Rocco felt ... dazzled.

"Your tone was a bit mocking," she said. "But, I agree. You were wrong. Turn here." She pointed toward health and beauty.

The shampoo aisle was crowded, so Rocco kept quiet even though something about her response "You were wrong" didn't sit right.

He watched as Gena grabbed a pink bottle and flipped the cap open. She wrinkled her nose at the smell and put the offending bottle back on the shelf. Then she grabbed a green bottle. That one must have been really bad because she shuddered. Next up was a white bottle. It made the cut and landed in the basket.

Curious, he grabbed the green bottle and sniffed. Girly and fruity, but not repulsive.

"What?" she looked at him.

"Nothing. I just realized I've never been shopping with you."

He'd shopped for for her, but that had usually involved only lingerie and jewelry stores. The memory of stripping away s.e.xy underwear, leaving her wearing nothing but a sparkling gold chain, had him white-knuckling the cart's handle. her, but that had usually involved only lingerie and jewelry stores. The memory of stripping away s.e.xy underwear, leaving her wearing nothing but a sparkling gold chain, had him white-knuckling the cart's handle.

"You can see you missed a lot," she said.

"I suppose you're used to shopping at, uh, other stores."

She started to say something, then stopped. "Once upon a time, maybe. I've since learned to be more frugal."

She turned at the next aisle and selected toothpaste, a toothbrush, and floss. He followed her up and down a few aisles. She added fewer items than he'd have expected, especially in cosmetics. Not that Gena needed a lot of make-up, but he recalled a trip they'd taken once. It had seemed half her luggage was a traveling salon.

Still, seeing her wearing so little make-up now made him realize how young she looked. At thirty, she could pa.s.s for a college freshman.

Gena grabbed a neon-colored toiletry bag from an end-cap display. "Done here."

They headed to women's clothing next. In less than five minutes Gena picked out three pairs of jeans and three s.h.i.+rts. She was even faster in lingerie, grabbing underwear, bras, and socks.

"Shoes?" he asked.

"My sneakers are fine." She leaned against the cart and rubbed her head. "I think that's it."

He realized she was exhausted; on the verge of collapse. "Come on. We'll grab a suitcase and leave."

He paid for their purchases with cash. She limped as they walked out of the store, and this time she didn't protest when he put an arm around her shoulders and helped her to the car.

"Where to next?" she asked after he started the engine.

"It's late and we both need sleep. We'll get a room, call it a night, and hit the road early in the morning."

"Do I get my own room?"

"No. I'll get double beds. I know it's awkward, but I'm not letting you out of my sight again." He braced for her protests, prepared to go gangster on her if necessary. This wasn't optional.