Next Exit, Dead Ahead Page 2

  Something was there, and it had nothing to do with the haunted prison walk.

  Motion in the graveyard snapped Alina's attention back to the crumbling tombstones and fog laying across the ground like a foot-thick blanket. She was surrounded by darkness again, but an artificial glow of moonlight illuminated the tombs, casting a bluish light over the area. There was nothing there, but Alina knew something had moved. She searched the graveyard curiously, looking for the hidden corpse sure to make a sudden, and appropriately terrifying, entrance. An owl hooted from hidden speakers and a cackle of crazed laughter followed. Viper shook her head slightly and moved on, following the path.

  She had just passed the graveyard when there was a rush of sound and the corpse leapt out behind her with a gurgling groan that echoed around them. Viper swung around, her arm coming up instinctively to block his advance. Grabbing his outstretched arm, she clamped two fingers on his wrist, effortlessly forcing his arm down. He froze, staring at her.

  “Tsk tsk,” Viper murmured, waving her finger before his rotting face. “I don't know what you died from, and I would rather not catch smallpox this evening, if you don't mind.”

  The corpse grinned and a long worm slithered out from between rotten teeth. Viper arranged her face into an appropriately horrified expression and the corpse's shoulders shook slightly with laughter. He moaned and faded into the darkness again as Alina turned to continue around the bend, smiling in the darkness. As soon as she rounded the bend, strobe lights started flashing and she found herself surrounded by cells. Stifling a sigh, she did her best to appear startled at the gruesome occupants and the display of horror they put on for her benefit. After all, they were actors. She knew they fed off her reaction. It wasn't their fault she was impossible to scare.

  When the lights suddenly went out, plunging her back into total darkness, she braced herself. A cell occupant launched out of the cell in front of her, landing directly in front of her. She was hit with the rancid smell of sweat and fake blood as he tried to corral her into the empty cell.

  “Are you here for my conjugal visit?” he demanded, grinning and staring at the low V of her sweater.

  Viper raised an eyebrow as he moved into her personal space.

  A moment later, she was rounding the next bend in the walk and the hapless actor was back in his cell with no clear idea of how he got there.

  Alina's amused smile faded when that persistent chill streaked down her spine again. She stopped, turning around slowly. She still couldn't detect what was causing her sixth sense to run riot and Viper slowly raised her eyes to the old, thick stone building looming over the haunted walk. Her lips tightened almost imperceptibly as she stared up at the imposing prison beside her. The walk was now running alongside the old structure and she scanned the wall with the barred windows high above her head. She glanced back curiously and saw stone steps behind one of the makeshift walls of the path. The steps led to a thick wooden door into the prison, and high above the door was a dark window. It was significantly smaller than all the rest, and Viper's eyes narrowed as they rested on the dark window thoughtfully. Without knowing why, she reached out and touched the side of the prison, her fingers resting lightly on the rough stone.

  Icicles streaked across her shoulder blades and up her neck, causing the fine hair on her skin to stand on end. Viper frowned, shrugging her shoulders quickly, trying to rid herself of the cold. Instead of dissipating, it poured under her sweater and down her back, covering her with goosebumps. Catching her breath, she snatched her hand off the stone and turned her back to the prison, continuing along the walk. She rubbed her arms briskly, her heart pounding. The wind hadn't changed, but Alina was suddenly freezing.

  And it had nothing to do with the haunted walk.

  When she finally emerged from the thick stone wall surrounding the courtyard at the back of the prison, Stephanie and Angela were waiting for her. They were laughing as she stepped out and Angela waved from where they were standing.

  “We lost you!” she called.

  After the loud screeching and bangs in the walk, the sudden quiet outside seemed unnerving and Alina glanced around, memorizing the faces of people milling around her out of habit. She moved toward her old friends, her eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness illuminated by street lights.

  “I was behind you,” she replied, joining them.

  Angela Bolan flipped her honey-colored hair out of her face, her green eyes glinting like a cat's in the dim, street lighting. Dressed in jeans and a fitted sweater, she looked like she had just stepped out of a Guess ad.

  “We were going to wait, but then someone jumped out at us so we kept going,” she informed her with a laugh. “Stephanie said you'd be fine.”

  Alina looked at Stephanie Walker with a laugh. Her brown eyes met Stephanie's, and Stephanie shrugged with a grin.

  “I didn't think you'd be worried back there,” she said and Alina shook her head.

  “I was fine,” she agreed.

  Stephanie nodded and the three women turned away from the high prison walls. Alina took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air gratefully after the humid heaviness of dry ice, smoke, fake blood and latex. She glanced at her old friend in the darkness. While Stephanie was trying hard to pretend nothing had changed, Alina was acutely aware of a subtle shift in their friendship. Stephanie regarded her with a certain level of wariness now, and there was an invisible wall of uncertainty between them. She supposed it was inevitable after what Stephanie had witnessed two months before in a remote clearing in Virginia. Stephanie had seen Viper, pure and unadulterated, at work in all her cold and emotionless glory. She had watched as the worst side of Alina emerged, the dark side. It was a side of her that, until that night, was only witnessed by people who didn't live to remember the experience.

  “I thought it was fun!” Angela announced, drawing Alina's attention back from the past. “I'm so glad we came. I never even knew this place was here!”

  “The prison or the haunt?” Stephanie asked.

  “Both!” Angela hiked her purse more securely onto her shoulder. “I want to come back after Halloween and take a tour.”

  “It's just an old prison they turned into a museum,” Alina murmured, coming to a stop on the sidewalk. “Why do you want to walk through an old prison?”

  “You don't think it would be fun?” Angela demanded, looking at her. “They said the Boston Strangler was held here, before he became the Boston Strangler. I think that's fascinating. You don't think history is interesting?”

  “I think it's over-rated,” Alina retorted with a shrug as they turned to walk down the street, away from the old prison and toward the parking lot a few blocks down. “The present is bad enough without constantly looking over our shoulder to the past.”

  “I couldn't disagree more,” Angela argued. “If we can't learn from the past, there's no hope for the future.”

  “There's no hope for the future now,” Alina informed her, grinning at the look on Angela's face.

  “Well, there certainly won't be for you if you don't stop baiting her,” Stephanie interjected with a laugh. “You know how passionate Angela is about history.”

  “Killjoy,” Alina murmured.

  “Just for that, you're coming back with me,” Angela said with a huff. “Both of you!”

  “How did I get dragged into this?” Stephanie protested as they crossed a driveway emerging from the Mt. Holly Police Station behind the old prison under debate.

  Alina looked up, toward the municipal parking lot further down where Angela had parked her BMW. The teasing argument in progress next to her faded into the night as her eyes lighted on the man. He was leaning against a streetlight about half a block away, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest. Standing well over six feet, he was intimidating even at this distance. Alina felt a little flutter somewhere deep in her belly and her breath caught in her throat. Sensing his slow smile across the distance, her own lips were already curving in response when Angela
caught sight of him.

  “Is that who I think it is?” she asked, cutting off Stephanie in mid-sentence.

  “It depends on who you think it is,” Alina murmured.

  “Did you know he was coming into town?” Stephanie asked, glancing at her sharply.

  “No.”

  Alina glanced at Stephanie in time to catch the quick frown that crossed her face. She bit back a laugh.

  “Don't worry, Steph. As far as I know, this is not business-related,” Alina assured her dryly.

  Stephanie met her calm gaze and grinned ruefully.

  “You can't blame me for being a little suspicious,” she replied. “Every time you two get together, dangerous things happen.”

  “I didn't even know he was in the country,” Alina said, unable to keep the sparkle from her eyes or the slight smile from her lips.

  She looked back to the man waiting patiently, watching as they crossed the driveway. Damon Miles was every bit as dangerous as he appeared to be, dressed in black and leaning against the lamp, his eyes ever watchful. He moved with a lethal, jungle-cat grace that screamed a warning to anyone foolish enough to cross him. The last time she saw him, he was disappearing into the crowds at Heathrow Airport. He had been heading to somewhere in Europe, while she was on her way to the Middle East. They parted company with the same smile they always shared, wondering if they would ever see each other again. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised to see him leaning there now, watching them with that sharp blue gaze of his. Viper had bought the house in New Jersey so Hawk would know how to find her.

  And he had.

  “Well, if it isn't Mr. Hunk O' Mysterious himself,” Angela said cheerfully as the trio grew closer. “When did you blow into town?”

  “Not long ago.” Damon straightened up with a smile and held out his hand. “How's the shoulder?”

  “Getting better every day,” Angela answered with a smile, grasping his hand. “The physical therapy is going well.”

  “That's good to hear.” Damon nodded to Stephanie. “Ms. Walker, always a pleasure.”

  “Well, that depends on why you're in Jersey,” Stephanie retorted with a laugh, holding out her hand. “As long as deadly assassins aren't right behind you, it's good to see you again.”

  “I think we're clear on that point,” he said with a grin.

  “Are you here for business or pleasure?” Angela asked him, smiling.

  The sly look she cast Alina wasn't lost on Damon and his grin grew as he glanced at Alina. His deep blue eyes were dancing with laughter and Alina's eyes narrowed suspiciously in reaction.

  “That depends entirely on Alina,” Damon murmured.

  “Of course it does,” Angela said, laughing delightedly. “I think we just lost Lina for the rest of the evening,” she said to Stephanie.

  Stephanie looked at Alina and grinned.

  “I think you're right,” she agreed. “Let's go for a drink and leave them to catch up.”

  Alina watched her friends depart with a teasing wave before turning her dark eyes to the man looking down at her lazily.

  “Hawk,” she murmured.

  “Viper.”

  Alina chuckled suddenly and turned to fall into step beside him.

  “Are you really here just to say hello?” she asked, casting him a glance from under her long lashes.

  “I warned you I'd be back,” Hawk replied softly, looking down at her. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”

  Alina swallowed as her heart thumped painfully in her chest and her mouth went suddenly dry. Two months before had found them on a tropical island. They were sent there to relax while their boss cleaned up an inter-agency mess they had exposed in Washington. Alina still hadn't quite worked out in her head what exactly transpired on that island in August. Perhaps it was the sun, or the exotic culture that surrounded them, but Viper allowed the unthinkable to happen. She had allowed herself to feel and act like a woman for the first time in over ten years. Long relaxing days spent either on the beach or exploring the island outside the resort had culminated in insanity their last night there. Vague recollections of drinking rum and dancing in an outdoor tiki bar, wrapped in Damon's arms, came to mind and Alina felt her cheeks grow warm with the memory.

  The entire evening was a blur in her mind, but she did remember going back to Damon's room only to fall into an alcohol-induced sleep, his arms wrapped securely around her. She had realized, even in her drunken state, that they had wandered into unfamiliar territory in their relationship. It was confirmed the next morning when she opened her eyes to find Hawk watching her, a strange look in those blue eyes of his. It was a look that at once filled her with both warmth and fear, and she had dealt with it the only way she knew how to deal with emotion. She ignored it.

  They were both called back into the field that morning, vacation over. Hawk had flown as far as London with her. When they parted company in the airport, he made no secret of the fact that he intended to pursue this strange relationship they now found themselves in. Alina had disappeared into the crowds uneasily aware that, eventually, Hawk was going to demand a response from her.

  And now here he was.

  “I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I am.” Alina didn't try to pretend ignorance. “I suppose I thought it would just stay on the island.”

  Damon stopped walking and looked down at her, his eyes glinting.

  “It didn't start on the island,” he retorted, his eyes meeting hers. “If it had, this would be much less complicated.”

  “Well, it wouldn't be us if it wasn't complicated,” Alina muttered, her lips twitching. “We do have a habit of making everything difficult.”

  Damon laughed and motioned to a motorcycle a few feet away.

  “We keep it interesting,” he retorted, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

  Alina grinned and watched as he pulled a spare helmet from a saddle bag, tossing it to her.

  “That we do,” she murmured, catching the helmet and putting it on.

  “Are you sure?” the man demanded, his dark eyes pinning the messenger with a hard stare. “There can be no mistake. We already lost him once.”

  “I'm sure,” the messenger answered positively. “It was the Hawk.”

  Jenaro Gomez shrugged off the arm of the woman draped over him and got up from the couch, striding over to stare out the window into the darkness. The woman frowned in displeasure and got up with a huff, stalking out of the smoke-filled living room and disappearing down the hallway toward the bathroom. Jenaro watched her go before returning his attention out the window.

  “Where did you see him?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Outside the old prison on High Street,” the messenger answered. “He met a woman there, possibly the same one he was with on the island. It was hard to tell.”

  “What would bring the Hawk to New Jersey?” Jenaro mused. “He must know we're here.”

  “How is that possible?” another man spoke up from across the room. “No one knows we're here.”

  “Do you have another explanation?” Jenaro demanded, turning from the window. “If so, tell me!”

  The man was silent and Jenaro cursed, taking a turn around the living room impatiently. The other two watched him, loathe to interrupt his thoughts. Jenaro Gomez was a frightening man at the best of times, but when he got the look in his eye that he had right now, he could be downright terrifying. There was a good reason he was lieutenant and second-in-command of the Casa Reino Cartel.

  “If the Hawk is here for us, he must know about the bank,” Jenaro finally decided. “Increase the pressure on our boy and get him to move up the timetable.”

  “I'll see to it.” The man across the room stood up and headed toward the door.

  “Turi...”

  The man stopped at the door and turned around inquiringly.

  “Find out where the Hawk is staying,” Jenaro said slowly, “and put Lorenzo on him. I'll contact La Cabeza and see what he advises. For now, jus
t watch him and report back.”

  Turi nodded, disappearing out the door as Jenaro returned to the window, ignoring the messenger. He stared out into the night, his eyes narrowed. The Hawk was a formidable complication he hadn't expected, but it was not altogether unwelcome. They had lost him two months before, when he left the island and went into Europe. With nothing to go on but a picture sent by a dead woman and no name, they were unable to trace him again. The Hawk was a phantom. He didn't seem to exist, and those who must know of his existence could not be bought. Yet, if the messenger was correct, he had fallen into their laps here, in New Jersey of all places.

  Jenaro smiled a slow, terrible smile.

  He wouldn't allow the Hawk to get away again.

  Chapter Two

  Alina flipped on the kitchen light and dropped her keys on the marble-topped bar. Damon glanced around as he slid the door to the deck closed. The house was just as he remembered it. To his left, the living room was spotless. The chocolate brown couch and matching recliner were just where he remembered them, and the mission-style coffee table gleamed in the dim light filtering from the kitchen. The flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace was dark, but Hawk knew it was linked into Viper's extensive security system. She could monitor her perimeter from that screen, as well as from several others throughout the house.

  Damon turned his attention to the dining room in front of the bay window on his right. The gleaming, dark wood table and chairs were also spotless, looking like an ad from a furniture magazine. A black, marble-topped bar separated the dining room from the large, state-of-the-art kitchen and he moved forward to perch on one of the stools, watching as Alina reached behind her back. She pulled her gun from the holster at the back of her jeans.

  “Water or coffee?” she asked him, setting it on the bar next to her keys and heading toward the fridge.

  “I've been up since yesterday,” Damon answered with a yawn. “I'll take coffee.”

  Alina pulled herself a bottle of water from the fridge and turned to look at Damon. The over-head light was bright and she got her first good look at him. His dark hair fell over his forehead in a careless wave and his cobalt-blue eyes were tired. There were lines at their corners and a certain grimness about his firm lips. Dark shadows under his eyes accentuated the five o'clock shadow along his jawline, giving him the travel-weary look of a man on the move. Her eyes narrowed as she sipped her water.