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  She moved quickly, putting the weight of the cumbersome weapon out of her thoughts. Ahead lay the hot zone, flames and bullets all meant for her and Jake.

  Regret over the fallen ambassador skittered down her spine, stiffening her resolve. She tensed her arms, holding the launcher steady while stepping inside the spacious kitchen.

  A rack of lamb and loads of fresh vegetables were spread out on the table and counters. With any luck, this was one meal they would have to miss.

  A wall-sized wine rack and stainless steel appliances for these thugs seemed ludicrous to Jessica.

  Fear made her spin quickly to check on Jake. Her breath hesitated until he looked her in the eye and nodded. He was still with her and able to hold his own a little letter.

  She moved ahead, edging along the wall, swallowing down her fear and trying to see everything at once.

  "Fontana, I'll take point."

  Okay, she had to trust him. “Go ahead. I'm right behind you, partner."

  He led the way out a side door, hesitating a second before striding toward the shady patio.

  Increasing her grip on the rifle, she raised it to her chest, trigger finger curled against the smooth metal.

  "Fontana.” He nodded to partially open French doors and shouldered his way inside the house. He looked back at her.

  Fresh blood on his collar meant the wound above his eye had reopened.

  "Are you able to see?"

  "Good enough. Let's get this freak.” His comment hummed in her ear as they entered the fancy reception area. The place was ominously quiet.

  Jessica took a quick look around, amazed at the lavish décor. Not something you link to the murderer of hundreds. Most notable was the Chippendale secretary with Christmas cards scattered over the writing surface. The scene was surreal perhaps from a grade B movie.

  Stop looking at that, Jess. Move on.

  She couldn't control the little shiver of some unknown fear jabbing her heart. Had Jake made plans for Christmas? She thought maybe she had at one time, but Peter ripped those to shreds. Funny, she didn't care and probably would send him a thank you card if she got out of this with her heart still beating.

  "Fontana?” He touched her arm. “Stay alert. Where the hell are they?"

  "They're here."

  "Sure as hell are!” He dragged her from the doorway, jamming his Glock in the waist of his jeans. “Straight ahead, Fontana."

  She waited until the guard was in full view and leveled her weapon on his heart, pulling the trigger twice. He fell to the floor.

  "Time to take out the big dog now.” Jake stepped over the dead man and went into the room he'd come from.

  Jessica kept a watch on the rear and followed him through the empty rooms of the house. He stopped.

  "What's wrong, Jake. They'll be running if we mess this up."

  "They won't run.” He straightened the launcher on his shoulder. He stepped back then ran at the door, kicking it open and stormed inside, yelling at the men to surrender to the FBI.

  They didn't, and he fired the launcher into the center of the group of men. Ten of the shooters crumpled under the explosion. The back wall blew out in a shower of bricks and glass.

  "You're under arrest, Azizi!” She'd seen him sliding along the wall, looking for an escape hatch. She ran after him, shouting out the legal terms of arrest. “You're under arrest for crimes against the United States, murder of American citizens, and trading in weapons of mass destruction.” She sucked in a breath and went on. “Surrender now!"

  He ignored her, and she wasn't surprised. Funny, in person he was even smaller than he'd looked in the briefing photos.

  Her head jerked around at the repeated roar coming from the house. Jake! He was fighting alone. Go back or let the devil go?

  She turned and ran for the house, sliding in the blood on the floor where the first dead guard sprawled. She hugged the wall like she'd seen rats do, leaning over and sliding along the fancy fabric wallpaper.

  More gunfire sounded. Jake's handgun. He had to be running low on ammo and needed her.

  Glancing around the doorway where the fancy entry hall had been, Jessica zeroed in on Jake's position among the clutter of wrecked furniture and walls.

  The thrust and power of a blast from the launcher exploded in the gutted room, evening the score of six to one. He fell down to gasp for breath in the chewed-up debris.

  She hunkered down, scrunching her shoulders in a useless but automatic attempt to escape the lead if it hit. At last, she saw him leaning against a splintered library table, bleeding hard from a wound she couldn't see.

  Her frantic hand signals finally caught his attention, and he waved off her advance. “Stay where you are, Fontana. There's one sniping me from the library door."

  "I hear you.” She glimpsed the muzzle of a forty-five as the gangster fired on Jake again.

  Backing out of the room like a crawdad, she stayed flat until making it to the library entrance. Unable to breathe all she needed, her lungs were near bursting by the time she'd gotten to her feet and looked inside the battered room.

  Gotcha.

  The shooter heard her moving around and turned to level his weapon at her head. Desperation gave her the edge, and she squeezed the cool trigger, relief swamping her as the guy with the look of shock on his face dropped dead in the clutter.

  From where she stood, Jessica located the hoods holding Jake down. Two stood on the staircase taking pot shots at him from above. The other crouched behind an overturned couch.

  She yelled at them, dropping to the floor before firing at the two on the fancy stairway. They toppled down the steps, winding up in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

  Jake waved at her, still working on the launcher.

  He stood, positioning the heavy weapon on his shoulder and fired across the room. In the after roar and thick smoke and dust, he was no longer visible.

  She heard him before she could clearly see him in the haze.

  "Where's Azizi?"

  "Escaping."

  He did little more than blink at her comment.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He knew the exact moment he'd blown away the son-of-a-bitch who'd shot him up with dope. It had been little enough pay back for the beating he'd taken.

  Now, the head prick was on the run, along with his dogs. They were probably tickled shitless to get away from him. All this meant a search on foot and he could barely walk a straight line. Keeping his inability from Fontana wouldn't be easy.

  She was fired up, moving ahead, beating the brush for Azizi. Maybe he'd been stupid, going against the rules to push her out of the car. Naw, it'd probably saved her life. He wondered if she'd put that in her final report of the mission.

  Hell with the report. If this were to be his last, he'd go out in a blaze of glory. Setting his jaw in a line of granite resolve, he hurried ahead to look for his partner.

  He found her, kicking over empty crates and boxes in a derelict looking greenhouse. He admired her hard-as-nails way of training her weapon on anything suspect, keeping the Glock close to her chest while she scouted the area.

  Their eyes met and he realized everything wasn't in a pinwheel spin. No, her eyes were still in place and they were blue. He read something in her gaze, the charge of it bouncing around in his belly before he realized how great it felt.

  Maybe he'd imagined it. Whatever, it had been like the first time for everything good that had happened to him. She motioned for him to move up beside her. His voice may have been a little off when he spoke to her.

  "Honey, did you want to tell me something?” No way in hell could he control the oddball grin on his mouth, or the amateurish way he checked his rifle for ammo. “I saw you looking at me."

  The scowl on her pretty face amazed and frightened him. The frost in her voice amused him. “Of course I looked at you, Claypool.” She leaned back against the wall to rub her hip. “I do want to say something, Jake. If you're not able to keep up, tell me so right
now. I think you're still too far under the drug influence to keep yourself alive, much less both of us."

  He focused on her face and understood the severity of their predicament. “You don't have to worry about me holding up my end of the log.” Damn, she thought he was weak. He had to prove he was worth taking along. “Tell me what's really eating you."

  She told him what she'd found in the storage shed. “We're too late to help Yaquero. He's dead of course."

  He knew in blood chilling detail of the way and time the brave ambassador had died. Jake had been forced to watch while the fat ape hacked the man's head from his shoulders. Maybe it was a good thing he'd been drugged. The bloody details of the gruesome scene would haunt him forever.

  "We did the best we could at the time. And with everything that's happened, we're lucky to be alive. Don't let it get personal."

  She looked around the doorway before speaking. “I've never screwed up a mission before, Claypool. We'll probably be busted down to entry level or drummed out of the agency."

  "Never happen, Honey.” He wasn't as confident as he sounded. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, waiting for what, he didn't know.

  In his mind, or what he was sure was left of it, he made a vow with the only thing he had left and was sure of. His manhood. He was not letting that skinny, sex-starved rat get away this time.

  They heard it at the same time, a muffled, powerful motor gunned in a fast-moving get away, tires spitting gravel against the building they were in.

  He couldn't believe how fast she moved. Fontana was out the door and running down the road, apparently chasing Azizi.

  "Fontana! Hold up."

  His legs were on the mend and he sprinted after her. At least he thought power ripped through his muscles.

  The silver Rolls and his partner disappeared around a curve in the road.

  Damn woman would be the end of him.

  He ran then, following the echoing boom of a tremendous collision. Fortune was with him, his eyesight clearing enough to see the scene unfolding fifty yards away.

  Smoke curled up to the treetops from a demolished mess of metal and chrome.

  Azizi crawled from the car, gripping a large forty-five and looking for an escape hatch. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead.

  He appeared shocked to see the crimson on his silk shirtsleeve. Pain registered on his face after he noticed Fontana stalking toward him. Azizi must have gotten the idea how a trapped rat felt, his fancy clothes hanging on him like dirty rags. Probably the first time in his miserable life he'd been filthy.

  He took off, Fontana hard on his heels.

  "Stop! Hands over your fucking head!” She gained on him. “You're under arrest, Azizi."

  Jake once thought hearing those words coming from a woman would be comical, but there was nothing amusing about her strong command. She meant business.

  Azizi wasn't buying.

  Okay, this had gone way too far to suit Jake. Goofy or not, he was the commander of this job.

  He caught up with her, pulling rank with calm deliberation. “Load my weapon, partner. That's an order.” Now he clearly saw her expression of refusal. “I mean it, honey. And I'm straight now."

  She nodded, pulling his Glock from the top pocket of her cargo pants, and slapped a full round in it before handing it to him.

  He was grateful she'd not seen fit to tell him to go to hell. “Let's finish this."

  She stayed by his side while they tracked Azizi, and let him take control of the situation. They caught sight of a red silk shirt ahead and Jake sped up, finger curled against the hair trigger.

  "Azizi.” Grimacing with grim determination, he yelled at the fleeing killer. “Halt! This is your last chance to surrender."

  Azizi paused to glare at them. Eyes glazed over from his last jolt of dope, he was high and going to be stupid.

  He raised the weapon he carried and fired, the shot going wide of their position. Showing amazing agility, he vaulted over the top of lags rotting by the roadside, disappearing into the brush.

  Stupid son-of-a-bitch.

  Jake didn't enjoy blowing anyone away, but this idiot didn't seem to want it any other way.

  They split up, following their target easily by using the noise he made in his flight. Jake lost the sound, and worried about Fontana. Azizi could easily set up an ambush.

  Taking to the road again, Jake tried to see his partner. Adrenalin spiked through his muscles. He swallowed the huge lump of concern that stuck in his throat.

  Going against everything he'd been taught, he called out to her. “Fontana!” He didn't like the silence. But the sudden crashing of brush and limbs meant desperate moving. “Call out your position, Fontana!"

  Still nothing. Damn it. Was she too proud or in big fucking trouble?

  He waited a few seconds, getting a better fix on the source of the noise before shouldering his way into the thick undergrowth.

  The sound of gasping and low moaning took on more volume. The sound of running could only be coming from an out of shape, drug user like Azizi.

  The noise exploded outward from the brush and Jake caught a blurring glimpse of Azizi with Fontana on his tail.

  Jake raced after them, shouting at his target for the last time. “Stop or I'll shoot!"

  He couldn't fire. Fontana was too close and not backing up. She lost a step, grabbing at her hip and finally falling on her face.

  The man she chased spun around ready to fight, staring at her for a split second. He appeared to be as shocked as she was. But not too stunned to throw down on her.

  Jake was through yelling warnings. He felt nothing seeing the murderer expire with a slug in his heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She was alive, safe in Jake's arms, touching his beautiful beat up face. He finally cut through all the tough cowboy stuff and showed tenderness. Until he opened his mouth.

  "Falling down on the job won't earn you any brownie points.” His eye had swollen completely shut. “You gonna make it, Fontana?"

  "There's no way I'll not make it now.” She lay still for several minutes, tired of being afraid and sick of chasing creeps like Azizi until they were dead. Damn. Her skin seemed cold to her. She became aware of his gaze and smiled up at him. “Thanks Jake."

  He gave her his star quality smile and touched the filthy rag holding a hank of her hair in a gnarled ponytail. “Stay here and I'll snag us a ride."

  "In there. Keyes for that big black truck under the carport."

  He fumbled for the keys and clenched his teeth when she gasped. “I know you're hurting, honey. I'll get you out of here pronto."

  The instant he was out of sight, Jessica shut her eyes and groaned. Pain she'd been bearing up under demanded a reaction, and she obliged. Biting her lip stopped the wail that tried to escape. She was finding new ways to hide pain. So far, however, she had the feeling suffering in silence had reached its limit.

  Thinking of Jake helped. He couldn't be in any better shape than her. He had head trauma from the car wreck, open wounds from severe beatings, and possible long term effects from an unknown drug. She exhaled over a tremulous sigh.

  The deep silence lying over the estate seemed strange after the ear splitting sounds of war. The fancy oriental water fountain pumped water and dumped it with a quiet splash and hollow thud of huge bamboo pipes.

  Damn strange place.

  Right now, the time she'd rather not come, stood squarely in front of her. The inevitable debriefing. Hell yes, every agent prepared for it. Asked themselves and answered questions no matter how imbecilic they might sound. Be prepared!

  Would she stand up to those questions that demanded straight, rational, believable answers? Why was she worried? She had nothing to fear.

  Looking back, she'd never been sent out on a mission back loaded with so many things that went wrong or so fast. If she believed in magic or fate, she'd have to think this mission had been jinxed.

  Stop making excuses! You screwed up. />
  Thirst overcame pain and she stood, limping to a faucet that dripped clear water. Amazed that it still clung to a wall, she twisted the tap, bending to drink from the splashing liquid.

  Deep silence settled fitfully over the smoking ruins, almost unbearable after the ear splitting sounds of war. Having slaked her thirst, she leaned wearily against a low brick wall.

  This was the time she'd rather not meet head-on. What had happened? And why hadn't they handled it correctly? Those questions were coming and would demand straight, rational, believable responses.

  Her answers would not sit well with the suits back in HSD. They'd want a whipping boy, and it seemed only reasonable it had to be her. Or Jake. She exhaled, closing her eyes in exhaustion.

  Looking back, she'd never been sent out in the field where so many things went wrong, or so fast. She grimaced with self-reproach. If she believed in karma or fate, it'd be easy to say the mission had been jinxed.

  Stop making excuses. You screwed up.

  The rumble of the approaching truck meant Jake was on his way to pick her up, just like he would if she had been waiting on the curb in front of a grocery store. She shook her head to clear the nostalgia scene, wondering wryly if she'd gotten some illegal substance from the water.

  She straightened and watched the shiny red vehicle rolling toward her. This could be a scene from a sci-fi movie. A house in shambles but the automobiles were in pristine condition.

  The rumble of the truck's engine was strangely soothing. Something familiar, just like the war-riddled man driving. Oh no, she couldn't break down and cry now. He'd probably drive off and leave her.

  "Hey, pretty lady.” Jake leaned across the seat and smiled at her. “Going my way?"

  "Do you mind if I cry a little?” She wiped tears away with her tattered shirt. “I know it makes me look weak."

  "Baloney.” He opened the door for her to get in. “I'd lay down fire with you anytime, Jessica."

  Chapter Nineteen