getting out of Dodge for a while."
"I could call her, on my phone, or your cellular. Jack, if Bailey and I are in the middle of this, Grace is, too."
"Travel as a pack, do you?"
"So?" She hurried toward the side door with him, fueled by fresh worry. "I have to contact her. She has a place in Potomac. I don't think she's there. I think she's up at her country place, but—"
"Quiet." He eased open the door, scanned the quiet side lot, the sleeping neighborhood. It had been smooth and easy so far. Smooth and easy made him edgy,
"Keep it down until we're clear, will you? God, you've got a mouth."
She snarled with it as he pulled her outside and started eating up the ground.
"I don't see what the problem is. Whoever was looking for Bailey and the diamond have been and gone."
"Doesn't mean they won't come back." He caught the glint of moonlight off the chrome of the van just as it squealed into the lot. "Sometimes I hate being right. Go!" he shouted, shoving her ahead of him.
He whirled to protect her back, tried a quick prayer that they hadn't been spotted. And decided God was busy at the moment, when the van doors burst open.
The gun was in his hand, the first shot fired, before he spun around and sprinted after her.
He hoped the single shot would give his pursuers something to consider. "I said go!" he snapped out when he all but mowed her down. "I heard a shot. I thought—"
"Don't think. Run." He grabbed her hand to be certain she did, and was grateful she had no problem keeping pace.
They stormed between the yards, and this time the dog took a keener interest, sending up a wild din that carried for blocks. Moonlight flowed in front of them. Though he heard no footsteps pounding in pursuit, Jack didn't break stride as they whipped around the side of a building, turned the corner.
He took time to scan the street, then hit the ground running. "In" was all he said as he sprinted to the driver's side.
He needn't have bothered with the order. M.J. was already wrenching open the door and diving onto the seat. "They didn't come after us," she panted. "That's bad. They should have come after us."
"You catch on." He flicked the key, hit the gas and shot out from the curb just as the van screamed around the corner. "Grab on to something."
Though she wouldn't have believed it possible, he spun the big car into a fast U-turn, riding two wheels over the opposing curb. His bumper kissed lightly off the fender of a sedan, and then he was screaming down the quiet suburban street at sixty.
He took the first turn with the van three lengths behind. "You know how to use a gun?"
M.J. picked it up off the seat "Yeah."
"Let's hope you don't have to. Get your seat belt on, if you can manage it," he suggested as he jerked the Olds around another corner. M.J.'s elbow rapped against the dash. "And don't point that thing in this direction."
"I know how to handle a gun." Teeth set, she braced herself and watched through the rear window. "Just drive. They're closing in."
Jack flicked his gaze into the rear view, measured the distance from the oncoming headlights. "Not this time," he promised.
He wound through the streets like a snake, tapping the brake, flooring the gas, whipping the wheel so that his tires whined. The challenge of it, the speed, the insanity, had him grinning.
"I like to do this to music." And he switched the radio up to blare.
"You're crazy." But she found herself grinning madly back at him. "They want to kill us."
"People in hell want snow cones." He hit a four-lane and pushed the car to eighty. "This tank might not look like much, but she moves."
"So does that van. You're not shaking them."
"I haven't gotten started." He skimmed his gaze fast, left, right, then plowed recklessly through a red light. Traffic was sparse, even as they zipped toward downtown. "That's the trouble with D.C.," he commented. "No nightlife.
Politicians and ambassadors."
"It has dignity."
"Yeah, right." He wrestled the car around a
"I could call her, on my phone, or your cellular. Jack, if Bailey and I are in the middle of this, Grace is, too."
"Travel as a pack, do you?"
"So?" She hurried toward the side door with him, fueled by fresh worry. "I have to contact her. She has a place in Potomac. I don't think she's there. I think she's up at her country place, but—"
"Quiet." He eased open the door, scanned the quiet side lot, the sleeping neighborhood. It had been smooth and easy so far. Smooth and easy made him edgy,
"Keep it down until we're clear, will you? God, you've got a mouth."
She snarled with it as he pulled her outside and started eating up the ground.
"I don't see what the problem is. Whoever was looking for Bailey and the diamond have been and gone."
"Doesn't mean they won't come back." He caught the glint of moonlight off the chrome of the van just as it squealed into the lot. "Sometimes I hate being right. Go!" he shouted, shoving her ahead of him.
He whirled to protect her back, tried a quick prayer that they hadn't been spotted. And decided God was busy at the moment, when the van doors burst open.
The gun was in his hand, the first shot fired, before he spun around and sprinted after her.
He hoped the single shot would give his pursuers something to consider. "I said go!" he snapped out when he all but mowed her down. "I heard a shot. I thought—"
"Don't think. Run." He grabbed her hand to be certain she did, and was grateful she had no problem keeping pace.
They stormed between the yards, and this time the dog took a keener interest, sending up a wild din that carried for blocks. Moonlight flowed in front of them. Though he heard no footsteps pounding in pursuit, Jack didn't break stride as they whipped around the side of a building, turned the corner.
He took time to scan the street, then hit the ground running. "In" was all he said as he sprinted to the driver's side.
He needn't have bothered with the order. M.J. was already wrenching open the door and diving onto the seat. "They didn't come after us," she panted. "That's bad. They should have come after us."
"You catch on." He flicked the key, hit the gas and shot out from the curb just as the van screamed around the corner. "Grab on to something."
Though she wouldn't have believed it possible, he spun the big car into a fast U-turn, riding two wheels over the opposing curb. His bumper kissed lightly off the fender of a sedan, and then he was screaming down the quiet suburban street at sixty.
He took the first turn with the van three lengths behind. "You know how to use a gun?"
M.J. picked it up off the seat "Yeah."
"Let's hope you don't have to. Get your seat belt on, if you can manage it," he suggested as he jerked the Olds around another corner. M.J.'s elbow rapped against the dash. "And don't point that thing in this direction."
"I know how to handle a gun." Teeth set, she braced herself and watched through the rear window. "Just drive. They're closing in."
Jack flicked his gaze into the rear view, measured the distance from the oncoming headlights. "Not this time," he promised.
He wound through the streets like a snake, tapping the brake, flooring the gas, whipping the wheel so that his tires whined. The challenge of it, the speed, the insanity, had him grinning.
"I like to do this to music." And he switched the radio up to blare.
"You're crazy." But she found herself grinning madly back at him. "They want to kill us."
"People in hell want snow cones." He hit a four-lane and pushed the car to eighty. "This tank might not look like much, but she moves."
"So does that van. You're not shaking them."
"I haven't gotten started." He skimmed his gaze fast, left, right, then plowed recklessly through a red light. Traffic was sparse, even as they zipped toward downtown. "That's the trouble with D.C.," he commented. "No nightlife.
Politicians and ambassadors."
"It has dignity."
"Yeah, right." He wrestled the car around a
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