The urge to floor the accelerator was strong, but Jess resisted. She knew it would be the fastest way to draw attention.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I will be when this is done." She glanced in the rearview in time to see the construction site burst into flames.

Chapter Seven.

In the course of his career with the MIDNIGHT Agency, Madrid had broken the law too many times to count. Usually the infractions were inconsequential; n.o.body had been hurt. It had always been for a greater good. Maybe even to save a life. Still, he didn't like what they were doing. He liked even less dragging Jess into it. The problem was he wasn't sure how to keep her out of it.

"Turn here," he said, motioning toward a back street that would take them to the coastal highway.

"I thought we were going to go to the police station."

"We're taking the long way."

His nerves went taut when a police cruiser with its lights blaring suddenly loomed behind them.

"Oh, my G.o.d." Jess gaped at the rearview mirror. "Oh, no."

"It's okay. He's going to pa.s.s us on his way to the fire."

Still, the relief that swept through him when the car sped past was palpable. He glanced at Jess. She looked calm on the outside, but he could see her hands wrapped like vises around the steering wheel, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every couple of seconds.

"You're doing okay," he said.

"I don't feel okay," she replied. "I feel terrified. Like we're doing something wrong. Like someone might get hurt."

"None of those things are going to happen. Just try to stay calm. Everything's going to be all right."

"Famous last words right before we get busted and dragged off to prison."

Another cop car, lights and siren blaring, streaked past.

"Okay," he said, "turn the car around."

Jess shot him an are-you-out-of-your-mind look. "Madrid..."

"We have to move now." He glanced at his watch. "We have twenty minutes max to get into the police station and look around."

A pent-up sigh slid between her lips as she turned into a church driveway, then pulled back onto the highway.

"And the cops at the station?" she asked.

"That's where our nonlethal weapons come into play."

"I hate to remind you of this unpleasant little detail, but while we might be using nonlethal weapons, the cops aren't."

"We have the element of surprise on our side. I'm a professional."

"I'm a waitress," she blurted out. "I don't know how to do this."

"You'll do fine, Jess." He looked over his shoulder, made sure there was no one following. "Look at you. You're driving like a pro."

She shook her head. "I don't do anything like a pro. The only thing I do well is screw things up."

He risked a look at her, curiosity nipping at him, and he made a mental note to get to the bottom of that statement later. "Maybe you ought to give yourself a little more credit." He motioned left. "Turn here."

They were on a side street that ran parallel to the main drag. The police station was a block ahead. "Park in that lot over there, beneath the tree."

Jess pulled into the lot and cut the engine and lights. She knew if she took her hands off the steering wheel they would shake uncontrollably, so she didn't. Madrid's window was down a few inches and the chorus of crickets and frogs was in full swing. In the near distance she could hear sirens. Dead ahead, the police station was lit up like a football stadium.

"I count four cars."

She jolted at the sound of Madrid's voice and jerked her gaze to the parking lot beside the police station. Sure enough, four cars sat beneath the glow of the streetlight.

"I'm hoping that doesn't mean there are four cops inside," she said.

"Most cops drive their own car to work, then switch to their city car. More cars than people here, I'd say."

Jess wished her heart would slow down. She felt shaky and scared and she hated it. "How many inside?"

"At this hour and for a town this size, I'd say there's a dispatcher and maybe two officers."

Sick with nerves, she pressed her hand to her stomach. "How are we going to handle that many people?"

"I have a plan."

"Of course you do."

He grinned, but for the first time Jess thought she saw the sharp edge of nerves beneath the reckless facade. She watched as he dug into the satchel and pulled out a small packet of what looked like ketchup. "Don't tell me you have fries to go with that."

"Just a tall tale." He tore open the packet with his teeth, then proceeded to smear what looked like blood on his temple.

Understanding dawned in an unpleasant rush. When he made eye contact, Jess could have sworn the blood was real. "Not bad."

Madrid said, "I'm going to walk in and tell them I was driving on the coastal highway and someone took a shot at my car. I was nicked in the temple. That ought to distract them long enough for me to get the upper hand."

It was good as far as stories went. A situation the police would surely need to investigate. But there were so many things that could go wrong.

She realized then he hadn't included her in the story. One look at his face and she knew why. He was concerned for her safety. She knew it was silly, but his concern warmed her in a place that hadn't been warmed for a very long time.

"Madrid, you can't do this alone."

"I don't think you're in any shape to-"

"I can do it," she cut in.

"Jess..." He sc.r.a.ped a hand over his face. "You can't. They'll recognize you-they're looking for you."

She shook her head. "They're looking for a woman with a little boy. I have to take the chance, Madrid. For Angela and Nicolas. For me."

He stared at her with such intensity that it was difficult to hold his gaze. Then he nodded and his eyes went back to the police station. "Okay. Same story. You're my wife. All you have to do is help me in. I was driving when some unknown gunman took a potshot at us. Okay?"

There was nothing okay about any of this, but Jess nodded. She wondered if he could see the fear that was surely written all over her face.

When Madrid got out of the car, Jess followed, hating that her legs were weak and shaking. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him smear more of the fake blood on his shirt. She crossed around the front of the car and jolted when he reached for her and applied some of the blood to her hands.

"You sure you can handle this?" he asked.

His hands were warm and strong and incredibly rea.s.suring as they covered hers. "I'm sure."

"Let's go." He looked both ways, then put his arm around her shoulder. "Put your arm around me," he said. "As if you're helping me."

She did. He was large and warm beside her. When he leaned on her she thought she detected a quiver, but he didn't give her time to ponder. "We move fast from here," he said.

They crossed the street at a jog with Madrid leaning heavily against her. Her legs trembled as they ascended the concrete steps that would take them inside. Through double gla.s.s doors she saw what was probably the desk sergeant's desk. Beyond, a narrow hall led to several offices. Their doors were open, though only one of the lights was on.

She shoved open one of the double doors and they walked inside, Madrid groaning loudly in a believable performance. She realized he was a much better actor than she was.

"Call for help," he whispered.

Jess closed her eyes, prayed for strength. "Help us!" she called out. "Please, there's been a shooting."

A young cop who didn't look old enough to shave emerged from the lit office. His eyes widened at the sight of him. "What happened?" he asked, rushing toward them.

"Someone shot at us," Jess said in a strangled voice.

Madrid groaned again.

"My h-husband is hurt. We need an ambulance."

The young cop went for his radio. "Where?"

"On the h-highway."

A middle-aged cop wearing an ill-fitting uniform emerged from another office. His mouth opened when he saw them. "What's going on here?"

"Shot out on the highway." The young cop motioned toward a wood bench against the wall. "I'll call an ambulance. Sit him down there. We'll get someone on the scene."

The second cop turned and shouted. "Dispatch! Get on the horn! Shots fired on the coast high-"

Jess didn't even see Madrid go for the tiny plastic pistol he'd tucked into his waistband. But in the next instant it was in his hand.

"What the-"

The young cop didn't have time to finish the sentence. The gun let out a whispered poink. The young cop grabbed his throat, staggered to the left. Jess gasped when she saw the dart protruding from his neck. He raised the radio, but Madrid kicked it from the man's hand.

"Hey! You can't-"

Madrid spun, brought up the dart gun. Poink! The middle-aged cop jolted when a dart slammed into his shoulder. A curse slid from his mouth as he fumbled for his radio. Madrid fired again, this time striking him in the gut. The cop stumbled, dropped his radio. Madrid moved with the speed and grace of a big cat and kicked the radio away, out of reach.

Jess thought her heart was going to explode. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the young cop fall to his knees, clutching his throat. He made a strangled sound and collapsed. The older cop was already on the ground, inching like a big worm toward the fallen radio. But Madrid was faster and crushed it beneath his boot.

He swung his gaze toward Jess. "We need to clear the rest of the building."

Jess glanced down the hall, but no one had emerged. She looked back to the two men who lay motionless on the floor now.

Madrid sprinted down the hall. When he'd cleared the first two offices, a third young cop darted from a room farther down the hall.

"What the h.e.l.l-"

Madrid fired twice in quick succession. The cop did an awkward dance as two darts. .h.i.t home, one in the throat, the other in his stomach. His hands fluttered over the weapon strapped to his side, but before he could reach it his eyes rolled back. His knees buckled. His body hit the floor like a sack of flour.

Three cops down in less than two minutes. Jess couldn't believe they'd gotten this far.

"Find Mummert's office," Madrid said as he dragged the first man into a darkened office, out of sight from the lobby and street.

For an instant Jess was so scared she couldn't move. Then, numbly, she started down the hall. The first office she pa.s.sed was Dispatch. Inside, she could see a computer monitor and a switchboard-like system. The next office was labeled Norm Mummert, Chief Of Police. "Here," she heard herself say.

With the three unconscious men stowed out of sight, Madrid strode past her into the office and went directly to the desk. "Check the file cabinet."

Jess's entire body shook as she darted to the cabinet. She couldn't stop thinking about the three cops lying unconscious on the floor or the very real possibility that another one would walk through the door and catch them red-handed.

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

"Same kind of thing we were looking for back at Angela's. Anything unusual or suspicious. Photos. Doc.u.ments. I don't know."

She tugged at a cabinet drawer, only to discover it was locked. "d.a.m.n."

Madrid already had the top drawer of the desk open. He stopped what he was doing and reached the file cabinet in two strides. "We don't have time to finesse this."

Jess shouldn't have been surprised when he slid a big black pistol from his waistband. "How many guns are you carrying, anyway?" she muttered.

"Enough to get the job done." He fired a shot directly into the lock. Even though the gun was equipped with a silencer, the single shot seemed thunderous.

The drawer rolled open, its mangled lock smoking like a spent match.

"Go," Madrid said. "We've only got a few minutes."

Jess didn't have to be told twice. As methodically as she could manage, she went through each file, but found nothing even remotely suspicious. The second drawer proved just as useless. By the time she finished with the cabinet, frustration and the ever-present fear of discovery were quickly transforming into panic.