Page 9 of Two Hearts

It was dark, and the walk back to the little house seemed longer than it was.

It always did. Jack could barely see the dirt road under his feet.

They couldn’t walk beyond the treeline, because that would have put them in the muck up to their knees, so they had to walk the road.

Right in plain sight. Except there was no moon and the night was as thick as tar. That might work to their advantage.

Or not.

After all, if the bad guys knew they were coming, they could be sitting still. Listening. Waiting. Ready to open fire the minute Jack or JW snapped a twig or rolled a pebble. Jack could almost feel their damned sights on him.

The house came into view.

It wasn’t dark anymore, and it wasn’t silent. There were voices floating from it now. And the light from the shack’s open door spilled into the driveway to illuminate the car that sat there.

It was Grace’s car.

“What in the—”

Then Jack saw her. And her sister, and that lunatic Charlie, whom Jack secretly thought the world of, all standing in the open doorway chatting casually with whatever underworld kingpin stood on the other side.

“I don’t understand,” he heard Grace say as he edged closer. “This was the address. I’m sure of it.”

Jack bent low, and kept going, JW right behind him. Vaguely he thought Grace looked odd…different, and not her usual self. But he didn’t follow that thought. He was more concerned with getting her the hell out of harm’s way.

The form in the doorway—Jack couldn’t see him well, with the light behind him—stepped aside. “Come on in, ladies. It’s cold out there. Maybe we can figure this out.”

Hope walked in. The rest all happened at once.

Jack lunged forward. His foot hit a rock that went skittering.

JW grabbed Jack’s arm and jerked him downward.

Charlie walked through the door behind Hope, and the jerk in the doorway snapped his head toward the sound Jack had inadvertently made. Looking.

“Wait,” JW growled in Jack’s ear.

“That’s my wife, dammit—”

But the criminal was speaking again, placing himself squarely in front of Grace, not to block her entry as it appeared—but to shield himself, should Jack decide to blow him away. “You said your husband’s name is…?”

“McCain,” she told him. “Jack McCain.”

“Well, let’s find him for you, shall we?

” And in the blink of an eye, he’d spun Grace around, pulled her back flat to his chest and had a gun to her head.

Jack heard a scream from inside—Hope, he thought, but she went silent fast. No doubt some other goon in there had his gun on her and Charlie, as well.

“Jack McCain!” the criminal called. “Your pretty wife is here. So, uh, if you’re out there, and I’m assuming you are, I suggest you step into the light. Otherwise…” He looked at the gun, adjusted the barrel against her temple.

Jack moved.

JW jerked him back so hard he almost fell on top of him. “What the hell is the matter with you, Jack? You step out there, he’s gonna blow your head off!”

“He’s got Grace,” Jack whispered. “My God, she’s so fragile. She must be terrified. She’s—”

“Mister,” Grace said, interrupting his harsh whisper. She said it loudly. “I’d like to say something to my two companions before you pull that trigger, if that’s okay.”

God, she looked so…well, scared wasn’t exactly the word. As a matter of fact, she looked worried, but more…calculating. And what the hell was she wearing? A warm-up suit? Where did she get that?

“You go ahead, darling. You’re very brave, you know.”

“Charlie, Hope? Can you hear me?”

She must have heard an answer. Jack didn’t, but she went on. “Don’t panic, okay? I’ll get you out of here in a minute or two.”

Jack’s brows pulled together. The man holding her looked down at her quickly.

At that moment Jack’s timid, quiet, fragile wife, drove her elbow backward into the man’s rib cage, while at the same time knocking the gun away from her head with the other hand, gripping his arm as she did so and neatly flipping him right over her shoulders.

Jack ran forward, his gun in his hand. The jerk landed hard on his back, but he still had his gun, and he pointed it at Grace.

Jack lifted his at the same time. But Grace scissor-kicked him, first one foot then the other, connecting with an impact that Jack couldn’t believe.

The first foot sent the gun sailing, and the second smashed into his chin so hard it should have broken his neck.

He was out cold before Jack heard the splash of his gun landing in the swamp water.

Grace spun and headed back for the house.

A gun barrel poked out a broken window, and Jack barely caught up to her in time to holster his gun and tackle her from behind.

They hit the ground as the shot went off.

Jack’s wife flipped him off her like a dog flicking off a flea.

He hit the ground beside her. She rolled onto her back and started to sit up, and Jack pounced on top of her again, grabbed her wrists and held her flat. “Stay down, dammit!”

Grace’s eyes went wide, and she stared at him. “Jack? My God, Jack, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Jeez, Grace, don’t you think that’s kind of a screwed-up question?”

Another shot exploded from inside the house, and Jack reached for his gun, pulled it out and fired one off over top of the house. The gun in the window withdrew.

“Stop!” Grace said. “Hope and Charlie are in there!”

“What do you think, I’m an idiot? That was cover fire.”

“What the hell are you doing with a gun?” she demanded.

“Where the hell did you learn to beat the hell out of an armed felon?” Jack shot back.

They lay there, blinking at each other in the darkness. And Jack realized for the first time that she’d been keeping as much from him as he had from her. And it stung, dammit. It hurt. He wanted to be furious with her, but how the hell could he, when he’d done the same damned thing?

He gave his head a shake. None of it mattered at the moment.

What mattered was getting her out of the line of fire, keeping her safe.

Not the puzzles in his head or the sudden feeling that he’d just been harshly slapped out of a pleasant but nonsensical dream.

And certainly not the way her body felt, long and firm, beneath his, or the way her heartbeat thudded steadily against his chest. Or how close her mouth was…

Dammit.

Jack kissed her. Suddenly, and without warning, quick and hard. And then he rolled off her, grabbed her hand and pulled her into a run.

She tugged back. “We can’t leave them!”

He was ready for that, and holding on tight, pulled her onward. “We won’t.”

“Over here!” JW called, and they headed for the sound of his voice, ducking behind a clump of some bush or other that smelled like garbage.

Only when they were there, invisible to the guy in the house, did Jack start to breathe again.

“Hey there, Grace. Nice to see you again.”

Grace eyed JW, the gun in his hand, and shook her head. “So I take it you’re not in the professional security business, either,” she quipped.

“Sure I am,” JW told her. “I’m a cop. If that’s not professional security, I don’t know what is.”

Grace lowered her head, lifted it again after a long moment. “You, too?” she asked.

Jack could only nod. He saw her eyes growing damp. “Jack, why? Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie to you… Hell, Grace, I knew damn well you’d react this way.”

“What way?”

“It’s over. I’m quitting just as soon as JW and I wrap up this case, taking a job offer from one of Harry’s friends, and then everything I ever told you will be the truth.”

She bent her brows until they touched. “You can’t make a lie into the truth! What kind of twisted logic are you—”

“Ah, don’t be too hard on him, Grace,” JW said. “Or…should I say, Amazing Grace?”

Grace’s mouth slammed shut and her eyes widened. She swung her head around. “Where did you hear that?”

“Well, it was your nickname in college, wasn’t it?”

Grace seemed to glare at JW, and JW just grinned and went silent.

Jack just sat there, hearing faint traces of Twilight Zone music in the hum of the swamp bugs. “Why did they call you ‘Amazing Grace’ in college, Grace?”

She waved a hand as if it were unimportant. “I…played a little bit of…basketball. It was just a team nickname.”

Jack blinked. “You played college basketball.”

“It was nothing. I mostly warmed the bench.”

But it was so totally opposite to everything Jack knew—or thought he knew—about his wife. That she’d even want to be involved in sports, no matter how little playing time she’d had. “And you knew about all this?” Jack asked his alleged best friend.

“Well, yeah.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, shoot, you wouldn’t let me tell her you were a cop!

I figured fair was fair. Figured she’d tell you herself when she was ready.

Besides, it’s not like she’s been sneaking out every day to shoot hoops while telling you she’s at the office, now is it, Jackie, my boy?

Hmm?” Then JW looked at Grace, and so did Jack, and neither could have missed the guilty look on her face. “Or have you?” JW asked.

“This is ridiculous!” Grace said. “Listen, my sister and my best friend are in that…that hovel with guns to their heads. Don’t you think we can save all this for later?”

Jack looked at JW and JW looked back at him. They both nodded.

“How many are in there, Grace?” Jack asked her. “Besides the leader,” he added with a nod at the guy on the ground.

“That wasn’t the leader,” she said. “Someone inside was giving him orders. I heard at least two other voices, but there could have been more.”

“Shh!” JW put his finger to his lips, tipped his head to one side. “What is that?”

Jack listened. There was watery noise. Lapping, a splash. Then suddenly a motor.

Swearing, Jack scrambled out of the bushes and raced around the house full-tilt. But he only got there in time to see the small boat’s lights vanishing steadily in the distance.

“No!” Grace cried. She stared at the open door to the shack, even went toward it, calling for Hope and Charlie. But it was no good. It was obvious they’d been taken.

And before they ever found the note left inside the house, Jack knew what it would demand. But he read it, anyway.

“‘If you want to see the women alive again, you will release Havilar—’” Jack looked up. “That must be the guy Grace kicked into oblivion.” Then he read on. “‘Release Havilar, and drop the investigation of Paulo K. Darius, officially.’”

Jack looked from the note to JW. He smiled, and Jack smiled back.

“What’s so damned funny?” Grace demanded. “That maniac has Hope and Charlie.”

“Yeah, but we have two bits of information that we didn’t have before.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” Grace tossed her head.

“First, we know our drug lord isn’t any too bright. And second—” JW nodded at the note “—we know his name.”