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“Mr. Grabbaldi. I hope you’re calling me with good news.” Angelo Valentine had the voice of a demon. It was the only thing Jimmy could think of as sweat pooled at the base of his neck and ran in rivulets down his temples. Angelo’s voice was low and gravelly due to a throat injury he’d suffered as a young man, but there was nothing weak about it.
“Yes, sir. I’ve picked up Rachel Valentine and her friend in Dallas just as the informant told you. They’re headed north. I’ll wait until they stop for the night to take them out.”
“Good, good. And what about the other little problem? I assume you had no problems with that job.”
“Mr. Marsh is taken care of, sir, and the papers have been recovered.”
“Excellent, Mr. Grabbaldi. Destroy them immediately. I may decide to let you live after all.” There was a pause over the line and Jimmy could hear Angelo breathing. “Then again, maybe not.”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said as the spit dried up in his mouth, making it difficult to swallow.
“Don’t let them get to Chicago, Mr. Grabbaldi. Rachel Valentine has another copy of the list somewhere. Don’t fail me.”
The line went dead and Jimmy deliberately relaxed his cramping fingers from around the steering wheel. Rachel Valentine was headed into Oklahoma. It was the quickest way to get across the border and lose the interest of any local law enforcement. He knew from experience that Rachel and her private detective would be stuck on a two-lane road for hours. He’d have to be careful not to be seen.
Jimmy turned the radio on the classical station to soothe his nerves and plan his future. He had a nice fat bank account in the Caymans, and he figured it was time for Jimmy Grabbaldi to retire. Killing Rachel Valentine would be his last job. He wasn’t going to tempt fate and give Angelo the chance to change his mind about letting him live.
ChapterSix
Shane waited in the car and kept an eye on Rachel as she used a payphone to call her friends. By the agitated way she kept wrapping the phone cord around her wrist, it didn’t look like she was having a lot of luck reaching them. If Angelo Valentine had put a hit out on Rachel’s friends, Shane felt sure they didn’t have much of a chance for survival. But he wasn’t going to be the one to say so.
They were stopped at a gas station on the Texas/Oklahoma border. It was the last place to get gas for more than two hours, but Shane had another reason for stopping. He wanted to see if the beige sedan he’d spotted in his rearview mirror was really following them. Shane tried to get a good look at the driver, but the sedan motored past them without giving them a glance.
Rachel got back into the Explorer and Shane thought she looked close to tears. She’d had a rough twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t over yet. Neither of them had slept and their clothes were torn and dirty.
“You can try to call them again once we find a place to stay for the night,” Shane said.
“I know. It’s just that they’re clueless as to what I’ve gotten them involved in, and they have no way of protecting themselves. It was stupid of me not to cut all ties completely, but I couldn’t face leaving everything and everyone I’ve ever known behind all at once.”
Her words struck a chord with Shane. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d done after his wife had died and he’d left the FBI? He hadn’t spoken to any of his friends since the funeral. Wildcat, Dixon, Cutter, Jax, Doc, and Merlin—men who had guarded his back and been there for him in the toughest of times. He’d turned his back on them all. He’d packed up his meager belongings and left Washington without looking back. He’d picked New Orleans simply by closing his eyes and pointing to a place on the map. It had only been coincidence that he’d grown up in a town not too far from the city. And it was fortunate because the deep south and the swamps didn’t accept outsiders. Doors opened for him and his business because his mama had been an Arceneaux, and names meant everything in New Orleans.
His blood family was gone, but the men who’d been closer than brothers to him still lived. Guilt and shame crept its way over him and he promised himself he’d make amends and reach out to them as soon as Rachel Valentine was safe.
It was full dark as they crossed the border and headed north through Oklahoma. The silence was heavy, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Shane figured it would be close to midnight by the time they reached Tulsa. It was the closest city he knew of that would have a place to eat and an available motel. It was risky stopping for the night, but Rachel couldn’t go on much longer. And even though he could go on as long as the mission required, sleep and food would fuel his body and keep him alert.
“Did you get in touch with your FBI friend?” Rachel asked, breaking the silence.
That was another reason Shane had wanted to stop before they entered a new state. He knew his calls to Jones Daugherty at FBI Headquarters in Chicago would be traced. And he’d been right. He’d heard the clicks on the other end of the line that told him the call was being traced, and as soon as Wildcat had come on the line the conversation had been short and sweet.
“Yeah, I used the payphone while you were in the bathroom. Jones gave me a private number to call as soon as we get to a place I can talk for a while. He could tell I was in a hurry and needed to get off the line before they could pinpoint a location.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure you can trust this guy? How do you know he isn’t the informant working on the inside for Uncle Angelo?”
“Some things you just know. Wildcat has saved my life on more than one occasion and I’ve saved his. I’d trust him with my life and yours too. He’s good people.”
“I guess that’s good enough for me,” she said.
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep,” Shane said. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“Are you kidding me? As soon as we crossed the border into Oklahoma I’ve felt like we were in that movie.”
“Lost Highway?”
“No,Deliverance. I haven’t seen a town, a streetlight, a restaurant or another car for hours. It’s like we’ve entered into the Twilight Zone. And I don’t mean to be a pest, but I haven’t eaten anything since lunch and I’m starving. I know you’re a macho tough guy and could probably sustain yourself by picking grass from the side of the road, but us weaklings have to have real sustenance.”
“Like a cheeseburger?” Shane asked, laughing as her stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly.
“Yeah, a cheeseburger would be good.”
