Long Road Home(29)

He’d think she was nuts. Probably already did.

She thrust her arms into a simple T-shirt, not bothering to put on a bra. Then she collected the jeans Manny had bought for her and pulled them on over her still-damp legs. Even though Houston was a great deal warmer than Colorado and New Mexico, she put on the warm-up jacket and zipped it partway up. It gave her the appearance of added protection, even if it was only an illusion.

She glanced back in the mirror. “Don’t screw this up, Jules,” she said fiercely. “Stop acting like a ninny and get with the program.”

She stood there, staring at her determined reflection until she felt some of the uncertainty melt away. She was doing this for Manny. For the parents she’d failed. For them, she could set aside the paralyzing terror and shame.

Finally satisfied that she’d put herself back together, she opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

Manuel immediately noticed the change in Jules. Gone was the terrified, shaken angel, and in her place stood a composed, confident woman.

She met his gaze, her eyes coolly assessing him. Her stance was almost arrogant, and her attitude was take-charge. “Are all the arrangements made?”

He nodded, at a loss as to how to handle this change in her. “Our flight leaves in an hour and a half so we need to get going.”

She nodded and collected her bag. She took out her Glock and the HK 94, checking to see that both were loaded. She jammed a new magazine into place and engaged the safety. It was obvious she knew her way around firearms, and it made him damned uncomfortable. He didn’t need reminders of the way she’d lived for the last few years.

“You can’t take those with you,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

Her lip curled. “You think? Gee, I didn’t know that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So what are you doing with them, then?”

“Making sure we get to the airport in one piece,” she muttered. “I assume you have a drop-off point for your Beamer? I mean, it wouldn’t do for the average pencil-necked security guard to get his hands on the Bondmobile.” Sarcasm dripped heavily from her voice. “I’ll leave the guns with the car. The rest goes with me.”

He almost laughed. Until he remembered why she was working so hard to put on a strong front. His gut tightened. “The Bondmobile gets dropped off outside the airport perimeter. We’ll take a shuttle in.”

She finished shoving her stuff in then slung the too-large bag over her thin shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes reminding him of iron prison bars. Impenetrable.

“Let’s go then,” she announced, looking like she was ready to take on the world.

He didn’t like that look. It gave him the distinct impression she was up to something that would turn his world upside-down. More than it already was.

Chapter Thirteen

Manuel maneuvered the BMW onto the beltway and accelerated into the middle lane. Jules leaned back in the seat, her expression stoic. What he wouldn’t give to know what was going on in that head of hers. And then again, maybe he was better off not knowing.

He changed lanes in anticipation of the upcoming exit. Traffic had eased as the morning rush hour was abating. As he slowed to get off the beltway, the car lurched crazily forward, snapping his head back against the seat.

“What the—?”

Jules recovered quickly and twisted around. “That son of a bitch hit us!”

Manuel checked the rearview mirror just in time to see the grille of a Hummer ram into their back bumper again.

Jules swore loud and long.

“Anyone ever tell you what a potty mouth you have?”

She glared at him and climbed halfway over the back of the seat.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded as he accelerated and veered over two lanes in an attempt to shake their pursuer.

“Making sure those ass**les don’t kill us.” She hauled her Glock out of her bag and rolled her window down.

He reached over and yanked the hood of her jacket back, causing her to tumble toward him. “Use your head, damn it. You can’t have a shootout in the middle of Houston.”

She glared at him. “Who said anything about a shootout?” She scrambled forward once more and leaned out the window. Taking careful aim, she squeezed off two rounds.

Manuel saw the Hummer sway erratically and skid to the side. She’d blown out both front tires. He jammed his foot to the accelerator and surged forward.

The Hummer recovered and stayed close behind the BMW as Manuel weaved in and out of traffic.

“We’ve got company,” Jules muttered.

He looked in his rearview mirror and swore. Two sets of flashing lights were closing on them.

“Look out!”

He yanked the steering wheel to avoid a truck merging from the on-ramp. He shot around it and dove off the upcoming exit. He needed to get off the highway and fast.

He slowed to turn on a side street and the Hummer rammed them from behind again, spinning the BMW around a hundred and eighty degrees. Never taking his foot off the gas, he righted the wheel and kept going.

“Why aren’t they slowing down, damn it? I took out their front tires.” She leaned out and fired another shot. This time they shot back.

“Get back in here,” he barked, yanking on her jacket.

His side-view mirror exploded. “Son of a bitch!” He fishtailed into another curve and barreled down a side street. No matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the other vehicle. And the cops were right behind them.