When Twilight Comes - By B. J. Daniels Page 0,46

not sure how, but I want to help you.” He didn’t tell her that he had a plan, and if it worked, they would be together—one way or another. Because he could never let her go now. They were meant to be together. Even if she would have to die to stay here with him.

The phone rang, startling Jenna. She’d completely forgotten about Charlene. She got up and went to answer it, her back to Harry.

“Hey, it’s me,” Charlene said. “I’m starting up the mountain to the hotel. Everything okay at your end?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? You sound like someone has a gun to your head,” Charlene stated, as if she might be only half joking.

“No, I’m fine. Just nervous. I want this over with,” Jenna said.

“Hang in there. It will be over before you know it.” Charlene disconnected.

Jenna wished she could believe that as she hung up the phone and turned.

Harry was gone.

She hadn’t heard the door open. Nor close. She checked the rest of the suite. Gone. As she came back into the living area, she glanced quickly to the coffee table, where she’d put the taped-up cardboard box that she’d filled with money.

It was still there.

But part of her had expected it to be gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Lorenzo couldn’t believe this gas-hog of a car he’d rented. He pulled into a fuel station at the edge of some Podunk town and happened to glance in his rearview mirror.

A dark-colored sedan swung to the side of the road in front of an abandoned store. Jolly. The son of a bitch was tailing him!

Lorenzo jumped as someone tapped on his side window. A kid in a grimy green uniform looked down at him. Lorenzo turned the key back on and hit the button that lowered his window a few inches.

“Fill ’er up,” he said to the attendant as he realized he’d pulled into a full-service pump instead of a self-service. He hated to think what gas cost in a town this far from anything. A ghost town. Most of the storefronts were boarded up and there was no one on the street.

He looked into his mirror again. Jolly was still sitting in his car, waiting.

Lorenzo opened his door, got out and stretched, his back to Jolly. “Where’s your restroom?” he asked the attendant as he walked around the front of the car.

The kid pointed to the back. “Key’s just inside the door.”

The key was attached to a carved piece of log that had to weigh two pounds. Lorenzo took it from the hook and carried the stupid thing around the side of the building, discarding it the moment he was out of sight.

He ran around back, sprinting across a side street and skirting the rear of the abandoned store, then up its side to the corner. He stopped to screw the silencer onto his gun, then keeping low, came up behind the dark sedan. Jolly was facing forward, watching the station, waiting for him to come out of the john.

The attendant at the gas station finished filling up Lorenzo’s car, then sauntered back inside the station without even bothering to wash his windshield.

Lorenzo moved quickly forward, the gun against his leg. Once he was alongside, he raised the weapon and pumped three shots into the window.

The first shot shattered the glass. Nothing stopped the second and third ones from reaching their mark. Jolly slumped in the seat, eyes wide, mouth open.

Lorenzo went back the way he’d come, picked up the bathroom key and returned it to the office, hanging it on the nail where he’d found it. He paid cash for his gas, thanked the attendant, who hadn’t even bothered to wash his damn windshield, and walked in a leisurely way to his car, all the time watching the street.

No movement of any kind. Especially from the dark car parked in front of the abandoned grocery store.

AT THE HELICOPTER PAD, Raymond Valencia tried Rico’s number one more time before boarding. He hadn’t been able to reach him. Either cell phones didn’t work high in the Cascades, or something had happened to him.

“Where’s Erik?” Raymond asked in surprise as he slid up into the seat of the small chopper. With some alarm, he saw that this man wasn’t his usual pilot. The guy couldn’t have been over thirty, with startling blue eyes and blondish hair that was too long and curled at the collar of his leather bomber jacket. He looked as if he belonged on a surfboard at the beach, not at the