A quick rap on the door drew Ian’s gaze in that direction. Two uniformed Chicago police officers entered the room. Both looked entirely too young to own a weapon, much less use it.
“Ian Michaels?”
“Yes,” Ian replied.
The doctor looked up; a frown knitted his brow. “Sorry, guys, you’re going to have to wait until I’m finished here,” he warned as he placed a bandage over the newly sutured wound. “My patient’s health comes first.”
“No problem, sir,” the taller of the two replied. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” The look he shot Ian was arrogantly challenging.
Ian answered that bold gaze with bored amusement. This was going to be a piece of cake.
The door suddenly flew inward again. The two officers whirled toward it in a flash of dark blue. Martinez stumbled in holding his nose with both hands, blood gushing between his fingers and down his shirt front. Ian bounded off the exam table amid the doctor’s protests.
“Where’s Nicole?”
“She’s gone.” Martinez used one hand to swipe the blood from his mouth. “Hell, man, I think she broke my nose.”
Ian’s heart shifted into warp speed. “How much head start does she have?” he demanded curtly.
Martinez shook his head defeatedly. “Five minutes maybe.”
Suddenly everyone was talking at once. The doctor shouting for a nurse. The policemen demanding to know what was going on. And Martinez trying to explain how a female he outweighed by nearly a hundred pounds and towered over by at least a half-dozen inches had managed to beat the hell out of him, leave him stunned on the floor and get away.
The voices and faces around Ian faded into insignificance as his mind raced forward. Where would she go? She was breaking every rule of survival in the book. In Ian’s experience, when an agent broke code there was compelling motivation. Something worth the risk.
What was Nicole hiding?
“I’VE GOT IT,” Martinez announced in a distinctly nasal voice as he rushed into Ian’s office. The white tape stretched tautly across the bridge of his nose looked stark against his dark skin. “The car the shooter used was stolen. And Nicole had a room at the Sheraton downtown. She checked out just over an hour ago.”
Ian glanced at his watch, one-fifteen. “Did she call for a cab?”
“The doorman said she got into a Ford Explorer parked on the opposite side of the street.” Martinez swore. “My brother is going to enjoy killing me.”
“It’ll show up at the airport,” Ian said distractedly. He needed to know where Nicole was headed and from which airport. And he needed to know now.
“I’m sorry I lost her, man,” Martinez offered again.
Ian met the other man’s concerned gaze. Though inexperienced, Martinez was a good investigator. In time he would be a force to be reckoned with, and there was no time like the present to gain valuable experience. Ian knew he could trust Martinez completely. Besides, Nicole was a formidable opponent. Ian didn’t know anyone, not even himself, he mused, that she couldn’t best if she put her mind to it. Martinez might as well learn the hard way.
“It’s okay, Martinez. Nicole is not your typical vulnerable female client.” At least not on the surface, Ian amended silently.
Martinez huffed. “You got that right.”
“Mr. Michaels, I have that information you requested.”
Ian motioned for Mildred, Victoria’s secretary, to come in. He accepted the documents she offered.
“Miss Reed has a reservation on every flight on all airlines headed to D.C. and New York that are scheduled to leave O’Hare and Midway between three o’clock and eight o’clock today.”
Ian scanned the list of flights. Eight different flights arriving at five different airports. He shook his head. Nicole had no intention of making this easy.
“And here’s the report on Miss Reed’s car. I asked Murray at city’s lab to put a rush on the preliminary and fax me a copy ASAP.” Mildred smiled with satisfaction. “He came through, as usual.”
Ian returned her smile. Mildred had been with the agency since the beginning, when Victoria’s husband had been in charge. The vivacious middle-aged woman knew the Chicago PD like the back of her hand, and had something on anyone who was anybody employed there.
“Thank you, Mildred.” A frown creased Ian’s brow as he scanned the relatively brief preliminary report. No timer. No evidence of an internal detonation device. Remote-detonated. The bomb had been remote-detonated by someone watching Nicole’s car, Ian concluded. But why had they not waited until she was in the car?
“Call Kruger,” he instructed Mildred. “I need a ride to D.C.”
“Yes sir.” Mildred turned back at the door. “I’ll ask him to be ready within the hour.”
“Good,” Ian agreed.
“You think she’d go back to D.C.?” Martinez gingerly fingered the tightly taped bridge of his nose.
“Yes, I do.”
“I’ll drop you at the airport,” Martinez offered. “That is if you don’t mind me driving your car, mine’s still in the shop.”
“That’s fine.” Ian estimated that Victoria’s private jet could have him in D.C. a good half hour before the earliest commercial flight on Nicole’s schedule. He stood, mentally ticking off the items he would need to take with him. He would need to stop by his place and pick up another weapon and a change of clothes. Nicole probably left his Glock in the Explorer, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. He glanced at Martinez. “Let’s go. I’ll confirm the itinerary with Kruger en route.”
“After I drop you off, I’ll look for the Explorer,” Martinez grumbled as they headed toward the elevators. “I can’t believe she stole my brother’s truck.” Martinez shook his head disgustedly. “And, man, I’ve never had my butt kicked so badly. By a female at that.” He flashed Ian a look of dismay. “I hope you’re not going to tell anybody about that.”
Ian stabbed the elevator call button, then shot the man next to him an amused look. “Don’t worry, Martinez, your secret is safe with me.”
“Mr. Michaels, wait!”
Ian paused before getting onto the elevator. Amy Wells, the newest member of the agency’s clerical staff, hurried toward him, those long, coppery curls bouncing around her shoulders.
“Miss Wells,” he greeted patiently, though impatience pounded through his veins. He had to get to D.C. before Nicole did.
“Mildred needs your signature before you leave since Mrs. Colby won’t be back for another week.” Amy indicated the report she held and offered him a pen. She blushed, clearly intimidated at having to speak to him much less request anything of him.
Ian produced a smile. “No problem.” He quickly penned his official signature.
“Gosh, Martinez, what happened to you?” Amy asked abruptly, all wide-eyed innocence.
Before Martinez could come up with a suitable explanation, Ian leaned toward her and whispered, “It’s a secret.” He touched his lips with one finger in a gesture of silence and stepped inside the elevator. The doors closed, leaving Miss Wells staring in dismay after them. Martinez wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.
NICOLE PARKED her car down the street from her apartment building. Darkness shrouded the old neighborhood she had called home for five years now. Only forty minutes from her office, the small Virginia community boasted quiet