Deadly Games Part 8

"Look, I know you've been asked a hundred questions but I need to go over it with you, as well. And I promise I'll fill you in on everything during the flight back to D.C."

"What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are. To a safe house. It's for your own protection. Whoever did this is still out there and may come after you again."

"Good," she said. "We can trap him. I'm sure the local police will work with you to set up a stakeout. And- Why are you shaking your head?"

"No cops. At least for now. What I've told you doesn't go beyond you and me."

"Like h.e.l.l! Lupe's killer is running around scot-free while the police are wasting time chasing after an innocent man."

"Do you mean Lupe's ex-husband?" Rocco had read the dossier Catalina had provided. "Border Patrol has their own reasons for going after him. The man forces illegal minors to run drugs across the border. Hardly an innocent victim."

"But what about the other blameless victims, Rocco? The man who died when the fire spread to another building? The people who suffered burns and smoke inhalation? The families who lost everything they owned? And the shelter we were building-" Her voice cracked. "It's gone."

"It's tragic, Gena. And I agree it's totally unfair. But the best I can do right now is to minimize the opportunity for more damage by removing the target."

"By target, you mean me? And if I refuse to go along with you?"

"Don't," he replied, then added, "please."I'll force you to go if I have to.

She looked away for long seconds before speaking again. "If I agree, do you swear to tell me everything?"

"Everything."

Gena nodded. "I need a little time to wrap things up here. Lupe's ... remains. Come back in an hour."

Rocco moved to follow her back inside. "Thirty minutes. Lead the way."

She didn't move. "It'll go much faster if I handle things alone."

"A few more minutes won't matter. Your safety does."

"Don't you get it? If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened, Rocco. So if I want a little time alone to say good-bye to a friend, to make her final arrangements, you had better get on board with it. I'll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes."

Without a backward glance, Gena stalked through the hospital doors. Rocco knew that if he went after her right then, he'd have one h.e.l.l of a fight on his hands.

Out of nowhere came the urge to run after her anyway, to beg her forgiveness for long-ago sins.

Except where to start? Their past was tangled, checkered. She wasn't happy to see him, but then he hadn't expected her to be.

Liar.

Fine. So part of him had hoped she'd seem glad to see him after four years, two months, and twelve days.

His ability to recall the exact moment and time he'd last seen Gena made him feel ashamed. He remembered very little about the last time he'd been with Maddy. Even less about the women he'd dated after Gena and before Maddy.

Jesus. Had he really been obsessed with one woman all this time?

Yes. In the last four years barely a day had gone by that he hadn't thought of Gena. Great. So he needed therapy, too. But first he had to get her to a safe place. In the last four years barely a day had gone by that he hadn't thought of Gena. Great. So he needed therapy, too. But first he had to get her to a safe place.

He watched as another police cruiser pulled into the parking lot. The amount of law enforcement in the area should have made him feel more comfortable, and maybe it did. Marginally. With two people dead from the fire, new faces in town, Rocco's included, were being carefully scrutinized, so it was unlikely Minh Tran's men had stuck around.

Still, Rocco wasn't completely comfortable. He'd give Gena a little s.p.a.ce, but he wasn't leaving the hospital without her.

He headed into the lobby, took a seat where he could watch the elevators.

Tugging out the brand-new Blackberry he'd just picked up, Rocco checked his e-mail, including spam, but found nothing new from Minh Tran. Or Travis.

What had happened to Maddy now that the deadline had pa.s.sed? Had Tran's crony called Rocco's cell and reached Travis Franks instead? If so, what had Travis done? Had he been able to reason with Maddy's abductors?

Rocco punched in Travis's number. The call went straight to Travis's voice mail.

"d.a.m.n it, T. Call me." Rocco paused but didn't disconnect. "Dante filled me in about you and Maddy. If I had known ... Look, I'm still worried as h.e.l.l about Maddy, as a friend. You, too, for that matter."

He ended the call and then dialed Dante's cell phone.

"How's Gena?" Dante asked as soon as he answered.

Rocco sidestepped the question. "The woman who was with her last night just died."

"Ah, h.e.l.l. I'm sure Gena wasn't happy to learn it involves the Agency. When are you returning?"

"Gena has some things to wrap up here at the hospital. We'll go by her place on our way to the airport. What about Taz? Any luck finding him?" Rocco replied.

"No. Two women picked him up hitchhiking in Eastern Kentucky. Gave him a lift to Johnson City, Tennessee. They contacted the police after seeing the news bulletin. We're headed to Tennessee next. Max has had a couple of blips of telepathic contact with Taz, but nothing significant. The toll it takes on Max concerns me, but he won't back off."

Rocco grunted. "Sounds like someone else I know. Keep me posted."

As he disconnected, Rocco watched two grim-faced sheriff's deputies enter the hospital and head toward the elevator. Did they want to interview Gena, too?

Wanting to reach her first-to warn her or to rush her?-Rocco headed for the administration offices just around the corner.

He nodded at the receptionist. "I'm looking for Gena Armstrong, from the women's shelter. We were supposed to meet in the lobby, but-" He shrugged. "Could you call ICU and see if she's still up there?"

"It might be faster if I paged her," the woman said. "ICU has been swamped."

Rocco waited while the woman made the announcement. Within moments, her phone rang. He moved closer, eager to hear where Gena was.

"Thank you for letting me know." The woman hung up before addressing Rocco. "That was one of the ER nurses. She said Gena took off a little while ago. Said she was going to make arrangements for her friend who died from burns."

d.a.m.n it! Rocco never should have let her out of his sight. "Call her back and ask if she knows how Gena left. By car? Taxi?"

The woman rolled her eyes but did as he asked. A few moments later she told Rocco, "She said Gena insisted she was okay to drive herself."

Rocco thanked the woman and raced out of the hospital. When he reached his rental car he punched Gena's home address into the GPS unit.

The good news was she didn't have that much of a head start. Fifteen, twenty minutes. And if she had caught a glimpse of herself in one of her car's mirrors, he'd bet she'd gone home to clean up before going anywhere.

Hopefully, he'd cut her off there. No harm, no foul.

If not ... he didn't know what in the h.e.l.l he was going to do.

Chapter Ten.

The numbing coc.o.o.n of ice that had started to crack at the news of Lupe's death had shattered when Gena had turned and found Rocco Taylor standing there.

For a brief moment, she had thought she'd lost her mind, had thought she'd conjured Rocco from thin air. The Rocco she'd loved and believed in. The Rocco she'd thought could do no wrong, could heal any hurt.

Then he'd spoken and explained his presence.

The pain of her present had collided with the grief from her past, slicing her open. What he'd said- That Lupe had died instead of Gena. That those men had been after her. her.

Gena had been desperate to get away from Rocco then, needing to process his explanation in solitude.

But she'd no sooner crossed the lobby floor, having left Rocco cooling his heels outside, than a woman she recognized from the shelter had pulled her aside. Pilar.

"I heard about Lupe," Pilar had whispered through tears. "She ... was my friend."

"I'm so-" The unfinished condolence stuck in Gena's throat.It's my fault.

"Here." Pilar thrust a battered s...o...b..x into Gena's hands.

"What's this?" Gena held out the box, uncertain.

"Lupe called it her hope chest. Hope for a better future, I think. It's things she saved: letters, photos, money." Pilar's voice broke on a sob. "The police came to search her belongings. But Lupe kept this hidden."

"And you want me to turn it over to them?"

"No! Can you see it gets to her abuela? abuela? We promised each other." We promised each other."

Lupe's grandmother. "But how can I find her abuela? abuela?" Gena asked.

"Read her letters." Pilar looked down the hall just then and grew pale. "Border Patrol! Please, I must go! If they find me here-"

Don't ask. "Follow me," Gena said. "We can leave through the emergency room." "Follow me," Gena said. "We can leave through the emergency room."

Gena had left her battered Toyota parked in the back lot. Thankfully, she kept a spare ignition and apartment key in one of those hidden magnetic boxes. Without it she wouldn't have been able to follow Lupe's ambulance to the hospital last night.

But once outside, Pilar had refused Gena's offer of a ride. "I left a friend waiting at the bus stop. It is enough that you will take care of this."

Lupe's box.

Fighting tears, Gena had climbed into her car and given in to the urge to flee, to drive and never stop. But in the close confines, away from the antiseptic hospital scents, the smell of smoke clinging to her hair and clothes gagged her. Before she did anything, she had to get cleaned up.

Now she was pulling up in front of her apartment. A neighbor was out front was.h.i.+ng her car while talking on her cell phone, oblivious to her three children fighting over the water hose.

The normalcy made Gena ache. She picked up Lupe's box on the pa.s.senger seat and placed it in her lap, staring at it for several seconds before actually getting around to lifting off the lid.

A photograph taken two weeks ago at Lupe's birthday party lay on top. Lupe had asked Gena to help hold the cake up for the picture. Then Lupe had laughingly removed all the candles except one. "To celebrate my beautiful cake. It is my first one."

Her last one, too. Gena's eyes overran with tears.

Maybe Gena hadn't really known Lupe. Not as best friends did. Or even long-standing casual friends, for that matter. But there still had been a number of important parallels in their lives. They'd known the same fears and heartaches. That they'd fought the same torments gave them a bond.

Just beneath the pictures, wrapped in plastic, were three of the blue frosting roses Lupe had pried off her cake and air-dried. She had mentioned she was going to send them to her abuela. abuela.

The next layer revealed another photo, this one of an old woman holding a broom, standing in a dirt-patch of a yard and surrounded by chickens. But it was the smile that drew Gena in. And the kindly dark eyes that were so like Lupe's.

Lupe had loved her abuela abuela. And somewhere in Mexico an old woman waited for a granddaughter's next phone call, next letter. How long would she have to wait? How many sleepless nights would pa.s.s?

And when would the fear set in? Not knowing was always worse than the knowing.

Gena closed the lid on the box, her mind made up. Lupe's grandmother needed to know what had happened. And Gena needed to get out of town. Screw Rocco and the Agency. She didn't want a safe house or protection. No one had offered those to Lupe.

Leaving the box in the car, Gena hurried inside, suddenly frantic to head out. She ignored the pain of the myriad small injuries, showering and was.h.i.+ng her hair in record time even though hampered by her sprained wrist.

After pulling on jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, she tossed clothes and toiletries into a small suitcase. The extent of her logistical problems sank in as she packed.

Her purse had been lost in the fire along with her cell phone and wallet. That meant no debit or credit cards. And no driver's license.

She pulled the metal file box out of her closet and dug out her pa.s.sport and birth certificate. She had a little cash, less than two hundred dollars, which she crammed into her pocket.

Her credit cards would take days to replace. And any type of request along those lines would leave a trail that could easily be followed.

She could make it short term without credit cards, could swing by the bank where she knew the tellers for more cash on her way out of town. But there was no surviving without a driver's license. She was going to have to visit the DMV for a replacement.

And ultimately crossing into Mexico was going to be risky. If Rocco was right about their connection being uncovered after all these years, then whoever was after him had d.a.m.n good contacts. Dangerous contacts.

Gena glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Twenty minutes had pa.s.sed since she'd left the hospital. Had Rocco discovered her ruse yet?

Another memory from the past surfaced. Once in desperation, she'd prayed Rocco would come for her ... to rescue her.

He hadn't. She'd survived.

And she would survive this time, too. The same way she'd survived every other crisis in her life: alone. She closed her suitcase. Right now, she just needed to get away.

A knock sounded at her front door. Gena froze, knowing who it was. Would Rocco go away if she didn't answer?

The knock repeated. Part of her wanted to open the door and tell him flat out that she wanted nothing to do with him or the Agency.

Another part wanted to lash out, to make him feel the pain she'd suffered. Did he even realize what she'd been through?