Angel's Pain by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

destroyed. It seemed as if this job was taking forever.
    The Mercedes was a bloodred SL500, a hot car, but Reaper tempered his testosterone with a hefty dose of practicality and chose the Land Rover. It would be a lot more efficient if the terrain turned rough. God only knew how wild a chase Crisa would lead them on, though he couldn’t imagine it would be very difficult or take very long to track her down.
    Then again, he’d expected killing Gregor to be a fairly simple mission, too, and look how that had turned out.
    â€œWe’ll take this one,” he said, opening the Land Rover’s rear door and tossing his bag inside. He’d packed clothes, flashlights, a pair of tranquilizer guns with a few darts and not much else.
    Briar’s bag looked even lighter than his own. She slung it into the back without a word, then yanked open the passenger door and got in.
    Reaper took his place behind the wheel and backed the vehicle out of the garage.
    â€œYou’re going to have to guide me,” he told her as he turned the car so its nose pointed toward the road, then headed down the drive and through the gates at the end. The headlights were bright and cut through the darkness, though he didn’t need them to see, even on the blackest of nights.
    â€œNorth,” Briar said softly. “She went north.”
    He turned right. “She must have talked that mortal into giving her a ride off the island. They’ll have to take the bridge.”
    Briar scanned the roadside as they passed. Shops, diners, one or two places to get gas and basics, lined the island’s main road. The ocean was visible on either side, and there were several thickly wooded areas along the way.
    â€œI wonder what they do when there’s a hurricane here?” she mused as she sensed the night for signs of Crisa.
    â€œEvacuate, I think.”
    â€œI wouldn’t like that.”
    â€œ You wouldn’t leave.”
    She looked at him sharply. “What makes you think so?”
    â€œYou’re stubborn. You’re tough. You’re mean. You don’t like to be inconvenienced. You’d take it personally, as if the storm threatening your home were a deliberate and pre-meditated attack against you, and you’d want to fight back.” Reaper shrugged. “Since you don’t particularly care if you live or die, you’d have no reason not to.”
    She blinked at his words. “You think you know me pretty well, don’t you?”
    â€œI was describing what I would do,” he said. “I have a feeling you’d react the same way.”
    He waited, and when she didn’t answer, he pressed, “Am I right?”
    â€œNo, because I’d never live here. It’s not my style.”
    â€œWhat is your style, Briar?”
    She shrugged. “An alley. A park bench. Gregor’s dungeon.”
    â€œThose aren’t real answers.”
    â€œWhatever.” She sighed, and sat up straighter in her seat. “She’s moving faster now.”
    Reaper shot her a look, read the panic on her face, saw the way her eyes focused on nothing. Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and he knew her sense of Crisa was more powerful than his own could ever be.
    â€œWhat, Briar? What are you getting?”
    She blinked rapidly, seeming to draw herself back all at once, and then she shot him a desperate look. “She’s getting farther and farther away.”
    â€œThey must be off the island. Probably on the highway, without the speed limits there are here.”
    â€œFuck the speed limits, Reaper. Can’t this thing go any faster?”
    He pressed down harder on the accelerator, passed a slow-moving hatchback. “I don’t want some cop pulling us over.”
    â€œThen don’t stop if one tries.”
    Yeah, that would be just brilliant, he thought, imagining a high-speed chase with a barricade of flashing lights and sirens eventually blocking their path.