Exception to the Rule Read online

  “Enough for now.” The man—quite evidently their leader—gave a little nod at Carolyne. “Just enough to let her know it can get worse.”

  Carolyne seemed to shrink within her layers of jersey, and Shoes gave a satisfied nod. Quite unexpectedly, he left the whole situation on hold to pull out a cell phone—Kimmer eyed it with greed—and stroll into the kitchen for a short murmur of conversation, the tail end of which included what could only be reassurance. When he returned, it was to address Rio. “You can get up now. In fact, I insist.”

  Rio didn’t pretend to be unaware, but he wasn’t pretending the rubbery nature of his limbs, either—he rose to his feet like a newborn colt finding its legs. His face held nothing but concentration; he showed no dismay at his near nudity, no frustration at his capture. When he finally straightened, wobbly and uncertain, Kimmer suddenly realized there was more before her than a nearly naked ally from an op that had come crashing down around them; this was Rio. Her perceptions flipped back and forth, like an Escher print that appeared to be one thing when viewed just so and yet seemed an entirely different thing when viewed otherwise. Disadvantaged ally, facing his situation with dignity. Flip. Rio Carlsen revealed, from broad and muscled shoulders to clearly defined chest and flat, sleek abs, from the discreet smattering of darkly wheaten hair to long, strong legs—no matter the sporadic trembling that took them now and again.

  Flip. Disadvantaged ally. Impersonal. A job waiting to be done.

  Flip. Rio. Too personal. In trouble. And suddenly real to her, oh so real.

  Kimmer found herself shaking, but unlike Rio, she had no excuse.

  Within the nurse’s station, City Shoes made a peremptory gesture at Rio. “Turn around.”

  Kimmer watched with eyes narrowing, unable, for the instant, to read the intent behind this bit of strangeness. Until she saw Shoes glance at Carolyne, and then nod at Rio. It’s for her. All of this is for her. And Shoes confirmed it. “Take a look,” he said as Rio—unflustered as much as he was unsteady—turned as directed.

  “Take a good look,” Slick added, his fingers clamping on to Carolyne just above her elbow. A bruising grip, that—but Carolyne had attention only for Rio, her eyes reddened, her cheeks flushed and her expression full of pleading apology. Rio caught her eye just long enough to give the slightest shake of his head. Slick saw the exchange and gave Carolyne’s arm a little shake. “Remember,” he said. “In a few moments you’ll wish you’d stopped this now.”

  “And you can.” With another absent gesture, Shoes stopped the Rio on Display Show. No coincidence that he still faced Carolyne, that she would have to watch his expression with what came next. Kimmer had the sight of his back, finding no sign of tension anywhere save in the tight muscles of his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. “All you have to do is tell us about the weakness you found in the missile laser guidance system. You might as well save your cousin—and save yourself.”

  Carolyne, trembling and voiceless, shook her head.

  Shoes shrugged. “It’s a shame, really. You must know that the information will get out sooner or later. You’re not going to change things by refusing to work with us.”

  This time Carolyne dug deep within herself; Kimmer saw the effort it took. And though her voice was low, it came strong enough. “It might get out, but not through me. And the longer it takes, the more chance there is that someone will fix the problem.”

  Boots cleared his throat, gesturing at Rio from behind as he pulled from his pocket a stout leather sap—flat lead shot, no spring. Old-fashioned but effective, especially when it came to a lengthy session; carefully wielded, it would result in instantly dramatic bruises. Kimmer’s hand crept to her little war club, and she decided right then and there that Boots needed an introduction to it. Now. Go in now.

  Except Slick still had Carolyne. And Kimmer still couldn’t take him out first without alerting the others, giving them a chance to return fire or to target Carolyne. Or Rio. Rio in his underwear, biding his time. I’m here, she thought at him; surely he knew it?

  Shoes gave Boots a nod of approval. “Start there. With his back.”

  At that, Rio stiffened. He knew what Shoes meant; he dreaded it. And though he relaxed an instant later, it was too late—they’d all seen his reaction. Even Kimmer understood as she quietly rubbed the window clean enough to get her first good look at the fist-sized knot of a scar just to the side of Rio’s spine, just above the small of his back. Instantly she remembered his small moments of stiffness, his quiet habit of stretching his back. The scar was old enough that it had started to tighten and shrink, young enough to hold areas of red-and-pink anger, significant enough that it had probably left him without a kidney.

  She thought she was looking at the reason he’d left the CIA—but she wasn’t so sure she’d ever have the chance to ask him.

  With inadvertent mercy, Boots gave no warning; he simply slapped the weapon against Rio’s back, and Rio made a noise between a grunt and a cry and his legs folded. In an instant he was back to his hands and knees, but Kimmer couldn’t see his face and she didn’t think it had been as easy as he made it look. Carolyne—who could indeed see his face—stood with her hands crammed against her mouth and tears streaming down her face. “I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

  Kimmer glared through the corner of the window, her tiny porthole to the scene within, and swiped impatiently at the tear on her own face. What did that mean? Can’t say anything? Or can’t stand watching this? If Rio can, you can, Kimmer thought fiercely at her.

  Rio lifted his head; Kimmer heard nothing but he must have said something, and something displeasing at that. Boots leaped forward with the sap, a less controlled blow that would have broken ribs had the sap been spring-loaded. Rio rolled with it, his face paled to grayness and grim with pain as he came back up to his knees, this time facing City Shoes.

  Kimmer had an instant of wonder, seeing that face. City Shoes seemed just the type to go for the most dramatic moment, the biggest impact. What would have more impact than the destruction of those high, angled cheekbones? A straight, strong nose turned to mush? A hard jawline that no longer held teeth?

  But City Shoes regarded the scene with patience, and suddenly Kimmer understood. Once they’d warmed Carolyne up, convinced her of their sincerity and cruelty, they’d give her a chance to talk—and then they’d escalate the threats. Broken bones, broken face. The same ploy allowed Rio the scant coverage of his briefs. They remained only to be something that could be taken away.

  And to judge by the look on his face, Rio knew it.

  Rio thought about trying to stand. Hot pain raced along his ribs; a more familiar and somehow more affecting agony settled at his back. There the muscles had never quite recovered; there lay a history of inadvertent but foolish betrayal that had now come back to betray him yet again. That barely healed patch of flesh and muscle might take another blow, but beyond that, the muscle would give out, leaving him unable to do anything but curl up in search of respite.

  “You’ll break,” said the boss, the man with his own scars and the cold, cold voice. “And when you break, so will she.”

  Rio had no doubt of either thing. Everyone broke eventually, and when he went—when he started pleading for them to stop—Caro would go. He’d just have to make sure things didn’t reach that point. Was Kimmer even still here? Even though it wasn’t fair, even though she hadn’t done anything to indicate she’d run, he knew better than to make assumptions.

  Except for one. He might hurt now, but he was gonna hurt worse. Soon.

  He saw the sap coming this time—skin-damaging basket-weave leather over lead shot—and tried to duck, but the bubba in khakis adjusted the swing, shifting the sap for an edgewise blow that hit Rio’s biceps crosswise and instantly numbed it; it buckled beneath him.

  Time. Now. Instantly, he shifted his weight back, ignoring the ribs and screaming muscle, taking control in the one way he had left. He leaped out of his d
efensive posture, driving into the bubba and shoving him back across the room like a football sled. They both crashed into the recliner, and Rio snatched the sap and laid it up across the bubba’s head. He lacked accuracy and strength, but it was enough to daze the man, and it might keep him that way long enough to do Rio some good. When the time came. Because for now, he wasn’t going anywhere. For now he knew just what would happen next, and he knew he’d pay for this later but that for now…

  He’d bought some time.

  He glanced up; for a startling instant he looked directly through the window and into Kimmer’s enormous eyes. She’s here. She’s still here. The relief almost wrenched a groan from him. But then she ducked and spun away, and then Rio felt the prongs of the stun gun, again wielded by the boss’s sidekick, and had only enough time to wince as they dug into the inflamed skin on his back and discharged into white fire along every nerve and muscle.

  Clever Rio. He’d pushed them into putting him out, giving Carolyne a break, giving Kimmer more time…but until Slick left Carolyne on her own, Kimmer had nothing to do with that time.

  At the moment she crouched just around the corner, waiting to see if anyone had spotted her when Rio had taken the action so close to the window, trying to settle the sick, heavy feeling in her stomach at what she’d seen.

  You’ve seen worse.

  True enough. But never anyone she knew. It made her wish someone would come after her. She’d offer him a silent demise, and then if she picked the right moment, she’d have a decent chance of extracting Carolyne—now, before this went any further.

  But no one came. They’d been watching Rio, not the window.

  Perhaps it was time to attract some attention. Divide and conquer.

  But Carolyne screamed, an arrow of sound that startled Kimmer to her feet, ready for action. And then Carolyne screamed again, and again—it sounded like fighting and protest as much as fear, and Kimmer returned to the window with a combination of haste and caution to find Carolyne struggling to escape Slick, lost in hysterical anger and fighting so hard that most of the time her feet didn’t even touch the ground. She lunged at Boots like a wild woman, kicking out at every opportunity and not seeming to notice how short her blows fell or how easily Slick restrained her.

  Because in the middle of the floor, still groggy and helpless from a second encounter with the stun gun, Rio could do nothing but offer up the clumsiest of protection as Boots beat him, his blows brutal and his face savage. Rio already bore the marks, skin abraded from the basket-weave leather, split and bleeding over ribs, over haunches, over his poor wounded back, over the arms that gave his head the only cover he could offer—

  City Shoes interfered only so much as to remove the leather sap, a wise move for a man who wanted to keep his whipping boy alive. Boots resorted to fists and feet, and Kimmer snapped out of her horrified daze, reaching for the Ruger—and again stopping herself. She didn’t have the height; she didn’t have the angle. She’d do nothing but break glass and damage furniture, if she didn’t manage to hit Rio or Carolyne outright.

  Coward! She couldn’t want anything more than she wanted to break into that building and put Boots in serious pain—to watch that snarl on his face turn to fear, to move in close and let him see her satisfaction in doing it. But she was afraid—not for herself, but for Rio and Carolyne. That she wouldn’t be fast enough, that she’d regret her rash interference for the rest of her life.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and fought for some sort of control. Inner balance. And found it in that which she’d already decided. Time to attract some attention.

  Kimmer whirled and sprinted for the path, the rough oval around the central part of the camp. She knew the trip lines and aimed for them, evading whipping branches, sprinting onward to leave a cacophony of alarm in her wake. She triggered all the alarms between the nurse’s station and the camp entrance, and then she poured on the speed to return to the woods behind the station, crouching there with the exertion steaming up her vest and muted flannel shirt and just in time to see Boots running heavily down the path toward the noise she’d made.

  But only Boots.

  Dammit.

  She didn’t care so much if he returned quickly and found her—it would only be an excuse to deal with him, and she’d already alerted the others that someone was out here. She moved quickly around the back side of the building to creep up on the open door, crouching half beside and half on the steps themselves to peer through the opening in the door—larger than usual with Boots’ careless exit.

  Not much had changed inside. Carolyne sagged, crying, in Slick’s ever tenacious grip. City Shoes crouched in the middle of the floor to shove Rio from a curled fetal position to his back; Rio moved loosely, limbs flopping, and sprawled into his new, more exposed position with the deepest of groans.

  Kimmer’s hands clenched into fists; she looked at Slick and once more contemplated her odds as Carolyne renewed her struggles to reach for Rio. Surprisingly, City Shoes gave a little nod, and Slick released Carolyne to rush to Rio’s side, where she ran her hands over his shoulders in a frantic attempt to find something to fix and ended up snatching his shirt from the small pile of clothes on the floor and throwing it over him.

  Dart in, fling Carolyne out of the way, two quick shots and the goonboys are out of it—

  Except she had no experience with going in after people she cared about; no one ever got that close. She did a job; she found it satisfying, a way to prove time and time again that she could outwit and outscuffle the best of them. A way to save her once abused self, over and over and over.

  This was entirely different. This made her tremble; it made her doubt herself. And the doubt alone meant no one could count on her, least of all Kimmer herself.

  For the first time since she’d first left this rural Pennsylvania area as a survival-driven young teen buffered by her mother’s guidelines, Kimmer simply didn’t know what to do. This situation wasn’t covered in maternal words of wisdom, in crooning words deeply memorized in rare, precious moments of huddling together in privacy. This situation was outside her rules altogether.

  Belatedly, Kimmer got a sense of the conversation, saw the signs of impending decisiveness and change.

  “He’ll break,” Slick was saying. “Everyone does. Give him a few moments to get his wits back, keep our local friend under control and then start in again.”

  “Of course he’ll break.” City Shoes glanced at Carolyne and Rio, at Carolyne’s attempt to rouse her cousin, her urgent whispers. “Sooner or later he’ll beg her to spill what she knows. But he’s obviously had resistance training, so I do believe it’ll be much later…late enough that we no longer want to be here.”

  Slick looked impatient. “This place is perfect—and every time we move, we expose ourselves.”

  “We’re already exposed here—isn’t that obvious?” Shoes waved a hand in the general direction of the noise Kimmer had just created. “We know Hunter has someone lurking, even if Hawkins did lose her trail in New York. I suspect we’ve just been found.”

  “Damn bungler,” Slick muttered. “He never even got a good look at her.”

  Kimmer smiled to herself. Hat and plastic, shapeless raincoat. Way to go, ugly things.

  “Still,” Slick added, “that ruckus could just be kids playing around.”

  “And they might just go home and tell Mommy and Daddy that someone’s here, yes? Meanwhile we’ve got no idea when Carlsen will start his begging—and I know someone else who’s not likely to be nearly as resistant—or unpredictable.”

  Carolyne’s head shot up at that; she regarded them with fearful trepidation. City Shoes gave her an affirming little nod. “Your lover’s not quite so cut out for this kind of thing, is he? And I bet he’ll come running if we give him a little call, tell him we found you. In fact, I think he’ll run right into our hands.”

  “Don’t.” Carolyne shook her head, a helpless gesture. “Haven’t you done enough?”

 
“In point of fact, we have not,” City Shoes said calmly. “Or you would have told us what you know, yes?”

  “I can’t do that,” she whispered, her voice so strained Kimmer barely heard her. “No matter what. Do you think I would have let you lay so much as one finger on Rio if I had a choice?”

  “Choices sometimes become apparent as events transpire.” City Shoes looked pleased with his little declaration as he took out his cell phone. “Close up her laptop, get her ready to go. And you, Miss Carlsen—you’d better visit the young ladies’ room, yes? Once we hit the road, we won’t be stopping until we meet up with your Scott.”

  Carolyne mustered a glare. “What if I told you that Scott and I are no longer together? And even if we were—”

  “I am very sorry to say I would disbelieve you, and that even were it true, you would certainly still respond to his cries of pain. Unlike your frustrating cousin, I expect him to beg quickly and loudly. Now do as I say.”

  Carolyne held on to her glare, but she slowly stood up away from Rio. After which she’d go in the back, where she’d be separated from Slick and Shoes and safe from any action—

  Kimmer tensed, finally drawing the Ruger as she shifted her weight, readying to thrust forward and up and through the door.

  “Mr. Boyle?” Shoes said into his phone. “I believe we have a matter of mutual interest to discuss.”

  Careless noise from the woods caught her attention, and she gave the most emphatic of inward curses—Boots hadn’t spent much time checking for the source of the ruckus. No doubt he didn’t want to miss any of the action at the nurse’s station, or any chance to whale away on Rio. Kimmer did a rollback from the stairs, a quick duck around the side of the building before he came into sight. And then, when she saw he wasn’t nearly so careless as to skip inspecting the clearing, the woods around the clearing and the building itself, she ran around back and into the woods, putting distance between them. Only after he’d disappeared around front and stayed gone for some moments did she again approach the clearing.