Fortunately it wasn’t cold. In fact, despite thethreat of rain, it was unseasonably warm for this time of year inthe Lincoln National Forest.
The girl, Kelila — no, better to think of her asHedwig — was breathing fast as they hurried her along the deeplyrutted road. Were they pushing her too hard? Speaking for himself,Taylor felt they couldn’t get to the car a minute too soon. Thevast panorama of the desert, however majestic, made him feel tooexposed. Vulnerable.
He was relieved to spot the gleam of the car roof afew yards ahead.
The moon had been out when they’d parked earlierthat evening. Now it was too dark to see past the brush and cactus.Still, everything seemed undisturbed.
Several feet from the car, Will swore and stopped inhis tracks.
Taylor tensed, his hand automatically rising towardhis shoulder holster. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve got a flat.”
Taylor moved past the girl. Sure enough, the rightside of the sedan slumped to the side. The front tire wascompletely flat.
“Hell.” He quickly scanned the surroundinglandscape. Between the razor-sharp rocks dotting the sand and thewickedly spiked cactus, a flat wasn’t impossible, but his disquietratcheted up another notch.
Will gave voice to his own thought. “This just keepsgetting better and better.”
Hedwig laughed, the sound startling in the stillnight.
Taylor rounded on her. “Why don’t we have you changeit?”
Will made a faint sound. Something between calmingand disapproving.
They returned to studying the tire as though theremight be some trick of the light. “Rock, paper, scissors?”suggested Taylor.
“No way. It’s your turn to change it.”
“That’s not how I remember it. Come on, Brandt.”
Will sighed, long suffering, and scissored his armthree times. Taylor followed suit.
They both came up with fists.
“I may kill you before the night is over,” Willsaid. “Just so you know.”
Taylor laughed.
Once again they sliced the air three times.
Taylor came up rock again, but this time Will chosepaper. He laughed at Taylor’s chagrin and grazed his chin with afriendly fist. “You’re getting predictable, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart?” Hedwig repeated curiously. Taylor hadnearly forgotten about her. She leaned against the fender, catchingher breath and watching them.
Will tossed the car keys. Taylor caught themone-handed and walked around to the trunk.
“What do you want to bet there’s no jack inhere?”
He didn’t catch Will’s muttered response. If therewasn’t a jack in the trunk, they were going to have to walk back upthe road and borrow Ramirez’s pickup. He could just imagine howwell that would go over with all concerned parties, but standingout here waiting for the AAA was not an option.
He unlocked the trunk and raised it. It took hiseyes a second to discern what he was seeing in the dark interior —and his brain a few seconds after that to make sense of it.
For the second time that night he was staring downthe barrel of a shotgun.
Chapter Three
“So are yougay?” Hedwig asked.
The raised hood of the trunk blocked Taylor fromWill’s view. He half turned, surveyed the mutable shadows ringingthem: the jagged outline of mountains, the pale shifts of sand, theblack outline of Joshua tree and yucca.
Hedwig’s question refocused Will’s attention on her.“Because I called him ‘sweetheart’?” He infused his tone withamusement, although he wasn’t amused. His and Taylor’s sexualpreferences were not a secret from Uncle Sam. His and Taylor’srelationship was. That was to protect their working partnership.Early in their…er…romance, they’d agreed they wanted to keepworking together for as long as possible.
Of course, that might be moot now. If he took theposting in Paris.
It was a big if.
Wet flicked his face. The first fat drops splatteredthe hood of the car. It was starting to rain. Naturally. Because adownpour was all that was keeping this from being the perfectevening. The drops came faster, plopping down, dimpling the dust attheir feet.
“Because of the way you are together,” the girlanswered.
Will shrugged. “We’ve been partners a longtime.”
She briefly weighed it. “If you weren’t together,you’d have just said so. You wouldn’t try to explain.”
It was the first indication Will had that she mightbe smarter than the average bimbo.
Motion behind the car caught his attention. Taylorstepped back from behind the slant of the raised lid. His handswere locked behind his head, and even in the poor light, Will couldsee enough of his profile to know they were in trouble.
“Get down,” Will told Hedwig, drawing hispistol.
She dropped into an awkward squat behind thefender.
Will was already scrambling around to the far sideof the car, watching as the figure unfolding from behind the trunkdoor kept getting taller.
Jesus fucking Christ. Taylor was tall, but this guywas a monster. A giant of a man with a Mohawk and a sawed-offshotgun. Will could see his pitted profile in what little hazylight there was. His profile and Taylor’s.
Taylor’s jaw could have been cut from stone as hesaid in a flat voice, “You’re making a big mistake.”
“Shut up.” The guy had a very deep voice,distinctive even on those two chopped syllables. Maybe anaccent?
The lid of the trunk blocked Will’s view of thegiant’s body. He could try for a head shot, but what he could seeof the shotgun barrel was aimed directly at Taylor’s forehead. Ifthe guy’s finger tightened on the trigger…
Will’s palms felt damp. Not a chance he was willingto take if he didn’t have to.
Without turning his head, the giant called, “Comearound the other side, hombre, if you do not want your partner’sbrains splattered all over those cactus. And you, milayamoyna. You can quit hyperventilating behind the fender and getyour skinny ass over here.”
“Don’t do it,” Taylor said.
Will watched the shotgun barrel. It never wavered.The giant said, “You do not want to fuck with me.”
Definitely an accent. Eastern European? Surely notRussian? The guy had one of those basso profundo voices allthese oversize dudes seemed to possess. Was that anatomy orshowmanship?
“We’re federal agents, asshole.”
Taylor’s voice was cold and clear. Would it kill himto soft-pedal once in a while? As dearly as Will loved histoughness, his sheer…grit, sometimes he wondered whether Taylorsecretly had a death wish.
“I know. I know you are Feds. I am a FugitiveRecovery Agent.”
“You’re a what?”
“Bounty hunter,” Will supplied automatically.
“That
