He didn't waste his time cursing; he jerked the wheel, heading after the ambulance and the gray car. Charming Charlie the indolent fop had disappeared. The man who'd taken his place had no name, no identity other than Cougar, only one purpose in life, and the willingness to use any means to get it. He'd recognized Dex, the man to the left of Francey. And he knew with a cool clarity that he wouldn't be able to get her away without killing on her behalf.
"I wish you'd let me ride in the ambulance," Francey said, squirming slightly. The two airport officials on either side of her were very large, cramping her on the small back seat of the Fiat.
"Sorry, miss, but you'd just be in the way," the kinder looking man on the right said. "Your cousin's suffered a massive heart attack, and the paramedics are doing their best to stabilize him. They don't need the likes of you getting in their way."
She thought she could hear the charming trace of Ireland in his voice, and she had to stifle her instinctive, distrustful reaction. She was so desperate to get away from the life her cousin had chosen, from lying, deceitful men. The airplane had been so close, freedom just a few steps away. If she'd been able to leave she truly believed she could have turned her back on Michael Dowd—or whoever the hell he was—forever.
But Daniel's collapse had changed all that. Through the exigencies of fate she was being drawn back into the spider's web of deceit. And there was no longer any way she could retreat.
The car took a sharp right, and Francey looked up, the first inklings of dread washing through her as she watched the ambulance continue barreling straight ahead. "Why aren't we following them?"
"We're taking a shortcut," the kindly man said. "They'll be going to the emergency entrance, and you'll need to go to the business office, fill out papers and the like. You know hospitals—bureaucracies like all the rest. Don't worry, we'll get there in good time."
She didn't believe him. He had such a broad, trustworthy face, such warmth in his blue eyes and ruddy smile, such concern in his voice. She wanted to believe him so badly, and she knew she'd made a major mistake in getting into the car with him. Not that he'd given her any alternative. The two men had come up on either side of her as the paramedics were loading Daniel into the ambulance, and she'd been too frightened and upset to put up more than a cursory argument.
"We're in trouble, boy-o," the previously silent driver announced in a voice thick with Ireland. "Someone's following us."
"Lose him," the man said briefly, patting Francey's limp hand.
"What's going on?" she asked, knowing full well she wasn't going to like the answers.
But no answers were forthcoming. "You want to finish her now? You know what happened to Niall—we wouldn't want to displease the powers-that-be."
"Killing her now would be the height of stupidity," the kind man said. "If whoever's following us has backup, we'll have nothing to bargain with. And if we get back with her already dead, the boss will cut our throats. Just shut up and drive." He turned and gave Francey an affable smile. "Sorry about this, miss."
"You're the Cadre."
"And you're not very careful. This time you don't have the Cougar to keep you safe. You're on your own, and no one's going to rescue you this time."
"I wouldn't count on that, Dex," the driver said, his voice tight with panic. "Who the hell do you think is following us?"
Francey tried to swivel around, but Dex clamped a hand on her arm, holding her in place while the silent man on her other side stared out the back.
She heard the crack of glass. The man slumped down beside her. A moment later she heard the whine of a bullet, and the driver swerved off the road, cursing, stopping at an angle on the side of the roadway.
Her seatmate had fallen in her lap. She pushed him away from her, and her hands were wet and sticky with blood. She wanted to scream, but she had no breath in her. Dex had grabbed her arm and pulled her from the stalled car. A moment later she was clasped against his body, a human shield, and she could feel a cool steel gun barrel against her temple.
The car that had followed them pulled ahead, stopping in front of the car, blocking their exit. The driver was already running, disappearing into the distance, but the man holding her was made of sterner stuff. He wasn't going to run away.
"Hey, Cougar," he shouted toward the dark car with the smoked windows. "You want to strike a bargain?"
Francey watched, numb, as the door opened. She knew who would step out, and yet she couldn't quite believe it. Once more he looked completely different. Charlie had vanished. So had Michael Dowd, and the dream lover from the boat. This man was closer to the drunken Arab who'd brought her out of purgatory, though this time it looked as if he were there to deliver his own taste of hell.