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air like a frightened cat. The catch of fear in her indrawn breath produced a hitch in her side, but she bit down on her lip and ignored the small pain. She swung her empty gun toward the sound and encountered a lethal-looking suitcase. Another landed next to the first with an identical thunk. When she relaxed another twinge of pain, this time from her shoulder, made D.J. wince. She rolled her neck against the tension and turned toward the window. McCall climbed out, laptop computer case slung over his shoulder. |
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"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. |
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"I'm gonna toss this stuff in the car so we can get out of here." He grabbed the two suitcases and did as he'd said. |
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"Where do you think we're going? The locals should be here any minute. We'll have questions to answer." |
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"If they were coming, they'd have been here already. We don't have time to decipher the delay." He stood at the passenger door and nodded in the direction of the highway they'd walked on earlier. |
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Three figures approached at a run. As they watched, the black van stopped to pick up the men. Then the vehicle turned around and headed back toward the hotel like a metal tarantula on the prowl. |
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"Shit," D.J. swore and headed for the truck. She yanked a full clip from the pocket of her jacket and reloaded the 9 mm as she ran. "Those guys are starting to bug me." |
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She jumped behind the wheel. Before McCall had |
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