Moments passed while both of them sat still, listening to the rushing wind and the tires rolling over the pavement.
“By the way, that was a good punch.” He motioned toward the lights in the sky. “I saw a couple stars.”
Devlin closed her eyes before ogling him. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“In the future, however, I would greatly appreciate it if you would direct,” his finger twitched her way, “those fists toward someone else.”
She lifted a corner of her mouth.
He did the same while sneaking a peek at her in his peripheral vision. “So...we’re good then?”
“We’re good,” Devlin turned away from him, “until you piss me off again.”
Randall’s laughter rose above the 360 horses of the Pontiac’s Tri-Power V8. A quarter mile later, “Well, sadly,” his amusement died to a muted chuckle, “I seem to have that effect on women.”
She confronted him. “Was that true...what Bill said? Are you really divorced?”
The driver nodded.
“That’s too bad.”
“Yes, a life in the CIA brings its own...challenges.”
Devlin squared her upper body with him and unfolded her arms.
“It’s hard to build a relationship when one person is keeping secrets from the other.”
She cocked her head at him. “You worked in intelligence. Secrecy comes with the territory.”
Randall lifted eyebrows at her. “Tell that to a young bride who wants to know how your day went.” He bobbed his head while acting out a conversation. “Hi honey. How was your day? Fine. Anything exciting happen? Plenty, but you’ll never know about it.” He sucked in a breath and sighed. “Those were tough days.” He shook his head. “I think I broke her heart one day at a time,” he hesitated, “one conversation at a time.”
Devlin pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry.”
“That was the reason I left the CIA...for the DEA. I thought maybe the move would help salvage our marriage.” He rolled a hand toward his passenger. “At least I could come home and tell her I busted up a drug ring...or arrested some smuggler. But,” he grimaced, “by that time, we were too far gone.”
For the next half mile, Devlin tried to come up with something comforting to say. Drawing a blank, she drifted to another topic. “Do you have any children together?”
Randall shook his head. “Not sure why...wasn’t for lack of trying. That’s for sure. Sex was the one thing we were good at.”
Devlin closed her eyes to fend off the images that were trying to invade her brain.
“I mean when we were together,” he faced her, “we would—”
“Nope.” Her hand shot up, as if she were a cop stopping traffic. “I can do without the visual aids. Thank you very much.”
He smiled. “Right. Anyway...I guess it was for the best that we didn’t bring any kids into our little mess.” He peered out his side of the Pontiac for a few moments. “Although I wouldn’t have minded having a little Noah...to play with...show him the ropes...do all those dad things that dads do.”
“There’s still time.” Devlin extended an upturned palm in his direction. “You’re only what...” her eyes zipped over his beard and tanned skin, “forty or so?”
Randall whipped his head toward her, his eyebrows forming a straight line.
She leaned away. Oops. “I meant thirty-five.”
His mood lightened. “You can’t take it back now.”
“Sorry.”
“Relax.” He made a face at the windshield. “It’s just a number.”
“So how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m thirty-six.”
“You look good.”
He rolled his eyes toward her, his head following. “Save it, sister.”
Devlin grinned.
Shaking his head, “Forty,” Randall went back to watching the road, “or so.” He glimpsed headlights in the rearview mirror.
“What I meant to say was...”
He squinted at the reflection of a fast-approaching car.
“...you’ve still got time to meet someone...”
Flashing lights appeared atop the trailing car’s image.
“...and have,” Devlin turned toward the oncoming light show, “a couple of,” her voice trailed off, “kids.”
Randall’s body stiffened. “Not if we get caught by the police, I won’t.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 22
Head Start
Peering into the mirror on her side of the Pontiac, Devlin scowled at the police car’s reflection. “Well, this is an unexpected pile of ‘S’ ‘H’ India Tango.”
Randall frowned at her.
Whipping her head around to see out the back window, she caught his look. “It’s my husband’s way of swearing when my daughter’s within earshot. It means—”
“Yeah, I figured out what it means.” He had already merged the two letters with the two words from the military’s phonetic alphabet. Pushing on the brake pedal and easing the GTO to the side of the road, he repeated the phrase in his head and chuckled. “Permission to use that in the future?”
“To my knowledge, Curt hasn’t filed for a copyright, so...”
Randall double-checked the condition of his pistol.
“...be my guest.” Devlin watched him. “What are you doing?”
“We need a head start.”
“You’re going to kill a police officer?”
“Who said anything about killing? I’m a crack shot. I could drop him with a flesh wound. He’ll probably be assigned a desk job for the next three months. Hell, when you look at it that way,” Randall eyed the side-view mirror, “I’d be doing him a favor.”
She gripped his gun hand.
He pivoted his head toward her.
“We’re not shooting him.” Her discourse gained speed. “He’s another member of law enforcement doing his job. Just because he’s not American doesn’t mean we—”
“Easy, Devlin.” Randall removed her hand from his. “I’m only kidding.”
The officer exited his vehicle and drew nearer to the muscle car.
“You need to,” Randall watched the man’s image get bigger in the side mirror, “get to know my sense of humor.” He paused. “Better hang on to something.”
“Why?”
When the officer’s frame had filled the reflective surface...
“What are you plan—”
...Randall stomped on the gas pedal.
Devlin’s back hit the seat.
The Pontiac’s wheels spun, as the car’s rear-end fishtailed right.
The officer brought up his hands to block the spray of dirt before reaching for his gun.
Cranking the steering wheel to the right, Randall straightened the GTO.
The cop ran to his patrol car.
“Sorry Steely, but we’re going to have to see what this baby can do.”
The GTO reached speeds in excess of one hundred
