I Hear Voices(7)

I punched last call and when Sloan answered, I babbled, “I don’t do drugs and I’m not hallucinating. I need your help. There’s an Apache warrior after me and he’s got a big ass knife.”

There was a long pause before he asked somewhat incredulously, “An Apache warrior?”

“Yep, with war paint, too, and he’s killed a lot of people.”

“Okay, stay put, I’ll be right there.”

“How do you know where I’m at?”

“I put a tracker on you.”

“A tracker?! You low down, sneaky, skunk.”

“You want my help, Angel?”

A shudder shook me as another war cry sounded. He was getting closer. “Yeah, I really do.

I like my head where it’s at.”

Sloan blew out a long breath and muttered, “Civilians.”

“Be careful. He’s got a really big knife.”

“I’m always careful,” Derek retorted and the line disconnected.

He probably thought I was loony tunes.

A stone skittered down the path.

I froze.

“I know you’re there, little rabbit,” the warrior called. “I can smell you.”

I sniffed my underarms and grimaced. My deodorant had definitely failed but it wasn’t that bad.

A shadow darted across the canyon and I tightened my grip on the stun gun. I’d only get one chance to zap him. Nerves jangling I peeked around the boulder. Where did he go?

An arrow whizzed past my head and buried itself by my toes. “Holy cow!”

I looked up and screamed like a little girl. The murdering bastard stood on a narrow ledge about fifty feet above me.

He notched another arrow in his bow and leveled it at me. “I will gut you and feed your entrails to the buzzards.”

A sharp crack sounded.

A second later, the warrior jerked violently and staggered off balance. His teeth bared in a fierce snarl, the Apache straightened and raised his bow again.

Two more gunshots reverberated off the canyon walls.

The warrior toppled from the ledge, bounced off some rocks and rolled to a stop at my feet. For a long moment, I stood frozen in horrified disbelief, watching the blood flow from dozens of nasty wounds and pool around his body.

Was he dead? He kinda looked dead. Could you be dead with your eyes open? Yeah, I think you could. I didn’t feel his spirit but my brain was pretty well fried. I guess I should check to make sure. I reluctantly leaned down and pressed my fingers to his carotid artery.

His hate-filled eyes suddenly focused on me and he raised the knife clenched in his fist.

A shriek broke from me and I instinctively jammed the stun gun against his groin and lit him up.

The Apache convulsed violently and the knife fell from his hand.

“Feed my entrails to the buzzards, will ya?” I let him have it again, watching in satisfaction as he thrashed around and moaned.

“I think his nuts are fried, Angel.” Derek kicked the knife away, flipped the still twitching Apache over and clamped a pair of handcuffs on.

I collapsed in the shade and shook. “Why are you carrying handcuffs?”

“A Boy Scout’s always prepared.” The Tomb Raider quickly reached over snagged my stun gun and stashed it in his backpack.

Exhausted, sunburned and really pissed off, I shot him a killing glare. “You were never a Boy Scout and give it back.”

He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Do I look stupid?”

Like the big, CIA spy was afraid of little ole’

me? Okay, I would stun him the first chance I got.

“I need it for protection.”

“I’m your protection.”

“Oh pleeze.” I scrambled to my feet and advanced on him. “Give it back.”

Derek regarded me with all the tenderness of a vulture contemplating lunch. “You really think you can take me on and win?”

“You mean in hand to hand combat? No, but I can win using this.” I tapped my head.

The ass threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I can find you any time, any place, Angel, and if I want to tie you up, you won’t be able to stop me. You might even like it.”

As if. “Gee. Let me think. I gave you the slip at the hotel, that shopping center parking lot and at the museum. The only reason you caught up with me today was because of that blood thirsty Apache.”

He fingered a welt on his face. “I’ll admit you’re a slippery little thing.”

He had no idea. I made Houdini look like an amateur.

Sloan leaned down until we were nose to nose.

“From now on, Angel, we’re joined at the hip and you will behave yourself.”

“Or what? You’ll beat me up?”

He brushed his mouth over mine and whispered in my ear, “One night in my bed and you’ll do anything I want.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow! That’s one hell of an ego you’ve got there, Don Juan.” I jerked my thumb at the still bleeding Apache. “You gonna let him bleed to death?”

Sloan straightened and examined the warrior.

“I’m thinking about it.” He picked up my backpack and started pawing through it. He took out the stone map. “Is this why he was chasing you?”

“Yeah, he got a tad bit cranky when I took his sacred stone.”

“What makes you think that whack job killed a lot of people?”

I pointed at the twenty or so angry spirits surrounding the fallen Apache. “Those dead guys over there and the shit load of skulls in the cavern.”

One dark brow cocked satirically. “Spirits, huh?

How many skulls did you see?”

I shrugged. “I really didn’t take the time to count them but he’s been a busy boy.”

He rummaged around some more in my pack.

“You didn’t bring enough water, Angel.”

“I wasn’t planning on being chased by a homicidal Apache, sugar.”

A shadow moved. Frowning, I glanced around Derek’s massive chest and gasped. “The Terminator’s making a run for it.”

“Dammit!” Sloan spun, grabbed a rock and hurled it.

Smack! It hit the Apache in the back of the head and he slammed face first into the rocky ground.

Derek pulled a length of rope out of his pack and efficiently tied the warrior’s feet.

Bet he was planning on using the rope on me, too, and that would be a big mistake. There wasn’t a restraint made that I couldn’t get out of.

The Tomb Raider pulled a satellite phone off his belt and punched a button. “Jake, I’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

My strength gone, I slid slowly down the canyon wall and leaned my head back. If I could just rest for a moment…





Chapter Four


The whump, whump, whump of a helicopter jerked me awake.

I looked up and watched two men in tactical gear rappel from a hovering Black Hawk helicopter.

Two paramedics and a rescue basket quickly followed them down.

I had to admit I was impressed with how fast Derek got things moving. The paramedics immediately started working on the dying Apache while the tactical guys hovered around Sloan and listened intently to what he had to say.

Too bad they couldn’t talk a little louder.

Whatever the Tomb Raider was babbling on about wasn’t making them very happy.

One man was bald, built like a tank and kept fingering his gun, like he really wanted to shoot something.

The other could be a poster boy for the Marines. Hoo ra! Chiseled features, hard body and killer stare. He pulled a map out of his vest pocket and spread it out on a boulder.

The bald guy jabbed a finger at the map. Derek nodded and gestured down the canyon.

Wonder if I could sneak away while they were busy?

I eased to my feet. The Tomb Raider’s predatory gaze locked on me and he shook his head in warning. I was kinda impressed. He had the air of ruthless authority down pat. Not that it worked on me.

He pointed to the ground. “Sit.”

“Woof. Woof.” I sat. My knees were still a bit rubbery. Okay, it worked on me.

“Keep it up and you’re gonna get that paddling you deserve.”

“Try it and I’ll fry your nuts, too.”

The tactical guys laughed.

Derek turned a sharp gaze on them and they immediately began checking their weapons.

“Show some respect, bella, ” Granny Annabel chided.

I glared at her ghostly figure. “Respect? Him? I don’t think so.”

Frowning, Derek strode over and squatted in front of me. He placed the back of his right hand against my forehead. “Who are you talking to?”

“My dead grandmother.” I pointed at her, enjoying Derek’s disbelief immensely. “Granny Annabel meet the jackass. Jackass meet my grandmother. She’s been haunting me for three very long years.”

“When did you start seeing things that aren’t there, Zelda?”

I shoved his hand away. “When I was eight and I think my grandmother deserves a thank you for saving your horny ass from the bees.”

Derek released an exasperated sigh and held up two fingers. “How many fingers?”

“Two. I might be a little overheated, but I’m psychic not insane.”

The Tomb Raider motioned to one of the paramedics. “Hank, I need you to check her over.”

“Sure boss.”

“Boss?” I eyed Hank. His baby face and curly blonde hair made look like he was barely twelve years old. “Is he a real paramedic?”

“Yes ma’am, I am.” He sat his equipment next to me and took my pulse.

“When did the CIA start recruiting children?”