Bombshell Part 41

Anna wasn't salivating now. She felt jumpy and worried, not only about Monk but about everything that was happening so fast she couldn't get her mind around it.

When she'd backed out of her driveway to follow Griffin to the n.o.bles' house, she was wondering if she'd ever see her cottage again after today. No, it was all over for her here in Maestro, and it was all on her record-she'd failed here, miserably. Arnie Racker had been murdered under her nose, and she'd learned nothing of value except that being in Salazar's house had gotten him killed-that, and her vastly improved violin technique. Six months wasted, along with the taxpayers' money and her time. All of it made her want to scream and cry at the same time.

Still, she thought now, Dix and Ruth had made her glad she'd come. It felt safe and warm in the n.o.bles' house, and she'd felt herself relax with each pa.s.sing minute. She'd packed away nearly as many ribs as the n.o.bles' two sons, Rafe and Rob, good-looking teenagers who'd wanted to know everything about the shootings in Maestro. They groused and complained at the dinner table when their father cut short their questions, but they'd left happily enough to study, since that meant they wouldn't have to help clean up.

Dix sat back in his chair when he was sure they were out of hearing and folded his arms over his chest, now dead serious. "Claus couldn't locate Chigger Chivers, even went out to that fleabag shack he lives in. He's probably okay; he can be hard to track down sometimes. But I agree with you, Anna, Chigger heard every word you guys said. Don't know if he understood it all, since his brain's been pickled for decades from all the moons.h.i.+ne he's cooked over the years."

They were distracted when they heard Brewster yipping madly, and heard the boys talking and laughing as the front door closed behind them. Ruth said, "Brewster likes to dance in the snow, catch snowflakes in his mouth. Unfortunately, he never remembers he always sinks like a stone." She paused and looked at Anna. "We'll plan something out first thing tomorrow morning, Anna. Are you sure you don't want to stay here tonight?"

Anna carefully set down her coffee mug with MAESTRO COUGARS written in bold red across it. "Thank you, Ruth, but I'll be fine with Griffin." She looked at each of them. "I can't stand that I'm afraid of those monsters. They can't do this, guys. Not here, not to us."

Griffin lightly laid his hand over hers. "We'll get it done."

She stood up. "I need to get back to my house and find Monk. Then I'll follow Griffin to the B&B."

Griffin rose to stand beside her as she said her good-byes and walked beside her out to her Kia, his hand cupped around her neck.

Yes, Griffin thought, they would get it done. His brain clicked back to the here and now and the casket-black darkness as he watched Anna pull her car into the driveway. He pulled in behind her. It boggled his brain when he realized he'd met her for the first time less than three days ago. He was thinking that over, starting to open his car door, when he realized something wasn't right.

The streetlight was out.

He sat on his horn, shoved open the car door, and rolled out onto the driveway just as an automatic weapon opened up into his Camry, shredding the metal, shattering the windows, so many so fast the car seemed to lift and sway on the asphalt. He rolled behind the rear tire and was relieved to see Anna on her belly not ten feet from him, one arm covering her head, the other holding her Glock.

His ears were ringing, adrenaline pumping so wildly Griffin felt he could shoot Superman out of the sky, but his training took over, and he focused. He counted three separate weapons, firing at will, grouped in the woods on the driver's side of the cars.

He saw she was still pressed against the asphalt, waiting. He yelled, "Anna, stay down!"

Then he heard it, a whistling sound, and he jumped to his feet, firing as he ran. He slammed down beside Anna, then pulled her beneath him as his car exploded into flames. He saw the car roof fly into the air. The backseat and the steering wheel crashed to the ground. He covered her head as hot debris fell down around them. One tire rolled into the street, and another was ripped to pieces, flinging sc.r.a.ps of burning rubber everywhere. He grunted when something struck him, and when she looked up at him, he said against her cheek, "We've got to move; your car's next."

He rolled off her, and together they backed away on their hands and knees as fast as they could, only twenty feet to a row of trees behind them. Bullets sprayed randomly around them, mostly over their heads.

Despite the billowing black smoke, Griffin knew they could be seen because of the mad orange flames firecracking into the sky, light so brilliant the shards of gla.s.s from his car's winds.h.i.+eld glittered like slivers of sun.

It happened fast. Two grenades struck Anna's car, lifting it off the ground. The explosion sucked up the air, the force of it hurling them back. He saw a tire jack fly outward over them like a boomerang, and thick burning smoke clogged their throats. Then they heard a shout, a curse, then more gunfire. It was all around them, a rock splitting apart not a foot from Griffin's arm, peppering the hard ground, sending frozen clots of earth exploding in the air. Then the spray of bullets moved away, toward the cottage. They were firing blind.

When they pressed behind a pine tree, Griffin knew they had a chance. He grabbed her hand and they raced another thirty feet into the forest. They stopped, panting, sucking in the clean air, and turned toward the light of their burning cars through the trees. They listened as the gunfire slowly died away. They heard men cursing in a mixture of English and Spanish. Someone was moaning.

Griffin said against her ear, "I must have hit one of them when I was laying down fire to get to you."

They heard another man's voice. "They're dead. No way could they survive that."

The best words Anna had ever heard in her life.

Griffin said, his voice a whisper, "Three different voices. They'll wait, stay hidden and quiet, and see what happens. If they have a brain, they won't step into the open, won't take the chance either of us survived. Keep moving back, quiet and slow."

They slithered back as quietly as they could, and heard the blessed sound of sirens in the distance. "Okay, this is good." Griffin pulled out his cell and punched in Ruth's number.

Ruth's frantic voice blasted out of his cell. "Griffin? What's happening? Dix got a call from 911. What's going on? Tell me the two of you are all right. We'll be there inside three minutes."

She punched off before Griffin could say a word. He slipped his cell back into his coat pocket. "That smell-you forget what burning rubber smells like. Did you hear an engine revving? The second they heard the sirens they were out of here. Too bad my car is history."

Anna stared at him. She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him hard.

He kissed her back, his hands in her filthy hair, stroking down her back, bringing her hard against him.

Between kisses, she said, "Who cares about a freaking car? I don't care about mine, do you? We're alive. That's a miracle," and she continued to kiss him.

Finally she leaned back in his arms. "Were you hurt?"

The instant Griffin heard the words he felt a burning pain in his left thigh. He grunted in surprise, and then his leg collapsed and down he went. He lay on his back, staring up at her, his hand pressed hard against his leg. "Your mouth-I didn't realize how much I liked the taste of smoke."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, on her knees beside him, pressing down hard on his leg. Siren lights cut through the trees. They heard voices shouting, back where the cars burned, billowing up thick black smoke into the night. They saw a flashlight, heard a woman's voice yelling their names. It was Ruth. When the flashlight landed on Anna, Griffin said, "You've got blood all over your face."

Anna touched her cheek, felt the trickle of oozing blood, then the sting of a gla.s.s cut. "Not bad, and I don't think your leg's gonna fall off, either." She grinned at him, leaned down, kissed him again, then jumped to her feet. "Apply pressure. I've got to find Monk."

Henderson County Hospital

Late Monday night

It was strange to see Griffin in the very same hospital, lying in the same kind of bed Delsey had occupied. There was a drip in his arm, and his eyes were veiled with drugs, but he was thrumming his fingers on the light hospital coverlet. "Is that museum print a Monet?"

"Yep. Glad you can see it."

"Only an impression."

"Ha ha." She leaned over him, covered his hand with hers. "But we made it. Guess what? You managed to draw the same doctor as Delsey-Dr. Chesney. She says you're lucky to have the war wound everyone used to hope for: some st.i.tches, a little soreness, and a s.e.xy limp for a while, and best of all, some feel-good drugs and a bed for the night. She said you'll be out tomorrow."

He gave her a lopsided grin, took her hand in his, and pulled her down to him. He kissed her, hard and fast, and laughed. "You still taste like smoke. Tomorrow's good. We've got lots to do. You're really pretty, you know that? And the smoke, it really does taste fine."

"Griffin, you do know you kissed me and not Dr. Chesney, right? I mean, how drugged up are you?"

"Maybe more than I'd like, but who cares?"

But I'm not drugged up at all, and a girl's gotta take her chance when she gets one.

She leaned down and kissed him just as hard, just as fast, and thought, What a great decision that was. She cupped his cheek in her palm. "You taste pretty fine yourself."

She started to straighten, but he grabbed her arm, kept her close. "Why'd you do that, Anna?"

She studied his drop-dead gorgeous face. Truth was, what she really wanted was to burrow right into the man behind those incredible eyes to learn every single thing about him. Even after only a few days, she recognized rare and special when she saw it. "What did you say?"

"I want to know why you kissed me."