Decoded

The chill invading her bones turned Victoria’s blood to ice. “What about the neighboring buildings?”

“One’s empty and the other’s a business. The owner has confirmed that no one employed there was in the building tonight.”

Thank God for that news. Victoria stared at the wreck that had been the home of the Equalizers. Her instincts warned that this was deliberate, calculated destruction. Whoever had done this either wanted Keaton dead or wanted to send him a very loud message.

Lucas and Jim discussed the steps that would be taken by the police and fire departments. Victoria tried to pay attention, but her mind kept wandering to Maggie and how all this would affect her—if she was still alive. Dread ached in Victoria’s bones.

Jim had tried to reach Keaton all night, but he’d simply disappeared. Victoria had considered calling Maggie or paying her a visit to warn her. What would she have said? I think the man you love is dangerous?

Regret settled, heavy and sickening, in Victoria’s stomach. She should have warned Maggie.

Now it might be too late.

Chapter Three

2:32 a.m.

Slade Keaton… He didn’t know why he continued to consider himself by that name. That life was over. If he’d needed convincing, the past couple of hours had confirmed that fact. Hanging on to such superficial trappings was a grave error. He knew this.

Another change wasn’t the end of the world. He’d changed his name so many times during the latter part of his thirty years on this earth that he couldn’t even remember all the ones he’d used. This was not a new scenario to him.

Yet, somehow, it felt like the end of the world…like a whole new concept. Because of her. His gaze settled on the woman behind the wheel. Slade closed his eyes and shook his head. He’d made a mistake. That, he could say with complete confidence, was a first. He opened his eyes and focused his attention on the dark road ahead. A man like him couldn’t afford careless mistakes. He’d been trained better than that.

Images from his formative years attempted to invade his concentration. He kicked them aside. The past was irrelevant. Nothing mattered except today…this moment. He would not die for her.

Rage tightened his lips. Mother. Madre. The woman who had been anything but a mother to him. He had eluded her, just as he had eluded the rest of the world, for a dozen years now. No one had cornered him. But his recent mistake had allowed her to find him. Now there was only one way this could end.

One of them had to die.

The idea of killing his own mother evoked only one emotion. Determination.

“What now?”

Slade shifted his attention back to the here and now. Maggie had stopped at an intersection. Deep, dark woods closed in on all sides, leaving the highway nothing but a black river flowing in front of the headlights. Even the moon and stars had concealed themselves as if they, too, sensed the impending doom.

“Do I go straight or turn?” Her voice was sharp but still shaky. She was scared and rightly so. Maggie James had no idea how close to death she’d already come. If he was successful in maintaining her cooperation, she would never know.

“Take a right.” Slade calculated the miles before they reached the motel. Four, maybe five more. The place was a dump, but it was close to the interstate and there was a café next door. It would fulfill his immediate requirements.

Maggie made the turn and drove onward through the darkness. She’d stopped asking questions an hour ago. Mostly because of the weapon he’d wielded. Guilt nudged him. He’d done what he had to. She might never realize it, but he’d saved her life.

“How much farther?”

It looked as if she was through with the silent treatment. “Not far now.” She wasn’t going to like the next step in his plan any more than she’d liked the last. There was nothing he could do about that. Time was of the essence.

The headlamps spotlighted a road sign in the distance indicating a ramp to the interstate. After he’d covered arrangements for Maggie, he’d take that interstate to St. Louis. From there he had private air transport to Mexico City. He had contacts in Mexico City. This war would require extensive resources. And a whole lot of something he’d been short on his whole life—good luck.

Luck, right. He had made his own way in this life. Depending on luck would have offered him as much security as counting on his so-called mother to be a parent. Not happening.

Slade hadn’t actually missed having a real parent. One couldn’t miss what one hadn’t had. But, recently, he had begun to wonder what it would have felt like. What his life would have been like had his circumstances been different. How would it feel to have a real relationship?

He was a fool. Fury hardened his jaw. He should not have stayed in Chicago so long. Weakness had invaded, making him soft and stupid. He would never have a real anything. He was not real, not in that sense.

The motel’s aged neon sign strained upward, high above the one-story queue of run-down rooms, in order to be seen by travelers on the interstate. Two tractor-trailers were parked along the side of the road. There wouldn’t be enough space on the old strip of a parking lot for rigs that size, but the motel offered drivers a cheap place to sleep for a few hours before hitting the road again. Slade had checked out the motel and gotten a profile on the typical guest.

“Pull into the motel parking lot,” he instructed, then waited for her to comply. “Park in front of the office.”

He’d rented the car under an alias and stashed it for this leg of his departure. He hadn’t known then that he would have a passenger. To some degree the snag could work in his favor. Having dumped Maggie’s car at the bus station would serve as a ruse, helping to buy sufficient time to get to St. Louis.

Maggie shut off the headlights and the engine. Her hands continued to clutch the steering wheel. Her respiration was slow enough to indicate some level of calmness, but he couldn’t be certain of how she would react during the next few minutes.

“We’re going in to rent a room.” He leaned forward. “Don’t force me to do something you’ll regret.”

“Like you haven’t already?”

Her voice didn’t wobble now; rather, she sounded weary and resigned and just a little frustrated. That shouldn’t make his gut tighten with regret, but it did. He mentally narrowed the situation into focus and blocked those senseless, dangerous emotions. “You’ll thank me later. Now, get out.”

They emerged simultaneously. He tucked the weapon into his waistband beneath his jacket. His arm went around her waist and she tensed.

“Relax.” He paused and looked directly into her green eyes. They glistened with the fear she worked so hard to hide. “We need this to look natural. No trouble, okay?”

She nodded. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Her breath caught and she trembled. The satisfaction he should have felt at having that much power over her failed to make an appearance.

Keeping one arm around her, Slade pushed open the door to the office. A bell jingled. The guy behind the desk looked up from the compact television blaring with the canned laughter of a sitcom. He studied Slade from behind his nerdy eyeglasses. Looked young enough to be a college student or maybe a dropout. Working the graveyard shift apparently made him a little jumpy. He lowered the volume on the set.

“You need a room for the night—” the guy glanced at Maggie “—or the hour?”

Slade didn’t smile. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a bill big enough to get the clever guy’s attention. “The night. We’ve still got a long way to drive.” He pulled Maggie closer and gave her the smile he’d kept from the clerk. “Don’t we, baby?”

She nodded, the move jerky. “We… Yes.”

The clerk reached for the old-fashioned row of boxes that held actual keys to the available rooms. “Make it on the west end,” Slade prompted. “I don’t want to wake up with the sun in my eyes.”

The clerk tossed a key onto the counter. “Clean sheets are over there.” He pointed to a row of shelves on the other side of the room. “Checkout time’s 10:00 a.m.”

“Thanks.” Slade picked up the key, then, keeping Maggie close, grabbed a stack of bed linens.

Outside, Slade opened the passenger-side door of the rental. “Hop in. We’ll park in front of the room.”

Maggie climbed in and Slade closed her door. He kept an eye on her as he rounded the hood. Those Irish genes of hers could kick in anytime now. Maintaining control was essential.

The view of their room and the sedan would be blocked by the tractor-trailers parked along the road at that end of the property. Any additional layers of security were welcome.

Once parked, Slade was out of the car first and at her side by the time she opened her door. He passed the linens to her, then ushered her to the trunk where he grabbed the one bag he’d brought along, a backpack. To her credit, she didn’t scream or try to run or even argue with him as he guided her to the room. She waited quietly as he unlocked the door and opened it. Just as quietly, she walked inside and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. The linens landed in a heap on the naked mattress.

The bare bulb glowing above their door was the only exterior light working on that end of the row of rooms. He unscrewed the bulb and took a final look around the parking lot. They seemed to be in the clear for now.

With the door secured, he checked the bathroom and closet, then placed his bag on the floor and shoved the key into his jacket pocket alongside her cell phone. He’d taken it as soon as they were far enough away from the explosion for her to work up the courage to try to use it without him noticing. He’d turned it off and removed the battery, just in case.