he’s where we can deal with it.”
Grano leveled a hard stare at Bolan. “You’re just off the boat, and you think you’re calling the shots—”
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Grano,” Bolan replied quickly. “But the guy may be watching me, which means he’s watching you too, and I don’t want to put Mr. Lenzini in any type of a scrape. Okay?”
Grano smiled, obviously pleased by what he was hearing. Part of Bolan’s cover included stories of how he’d earned the name “Loyal.” He was supposedly fiercely dedicated to his employers.
“Sounds like you live up to your reputation,” Grano said. “I think you’re going to find that Mr. Lenzini appreciates loyalty. We all appreciate it.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m already feeling like I’m home again,” Bolan said. “Now, the only question is how you want to handle this situation, Mr. Grano.”
“You any good behind a wheel?” Grano asked.
Bolan nodded.
“All right then,” Grano said, turning to his companion. “We’ll let him drive, and we can deal with this cop.”
Bolan thought furiously. He’d hoped Grano would offer him the opportunity to take the guy out himself—make the new bull prove himself. This was no good. He’d have to act immediately, or there would be trouble.
“We go public with this,” Bolan said quickly, “we could have trouble with the cops.”
“Are you kidding?” Grano said with a chuckle, clapping Bolan on the shoulder. “We’ve got half the force in our pocket. We’d be out within the hour.”
“Maybe, but I’m not so sure we can afford that kind of attention right now. I’m still pretty hot on the list.”
Grano shook his head as he lit a cigarette and then offered one to Bolan, who declined with a shake of his head. “You got a better idea, I’m open to it,” he said.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Bolan replied. “I noticed the guy when I got off the bus. Now, if he’s here for me and I just walk away, he’s going to follow. That proves it’s me he’s interested in and I can certainly deal with him quietly. If I leave and he stays on you guys, then I’d suggest you go and I’ll cover your ass when he’s focused on you. Either way, we can meet after at some place of your choosing, with no fuss, no static. And we don’t draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”
Grano appeared to consider Bolan’s plan for a long moment. At first, the Executioner wondered if the guy was going to go for it, but finally Grano let out a chuckle and a gust of smoke. He said, “Yeah, that sounds like a pretty good plan, Loyal. You ever been to Boston before?”
Bolan nodded.
“Good. You meet up with us at a place on Lexington and Ninth, little coffee shop there.” Grano handed him a business card that was generic and nondescript. “It’s only a few blocks from here. If you get lost, ask directions. We’ll wait for you.”
Bolan gave another nod then turned and walked purposely past the guy he’d marked as a cop. The man immediately lowered the paper he was pretending to read, turned and fell into step behind Bolan. The Executioner didn’t have to see the guy on his tail; his instincts told him he was being followed. Instinct had saved him more times than he cared to count.
The soldier led the cop from the bus station and immediately crossed the street in the direction of a department store. Despite the inclement weather, the streets were full of shoppers.
Bolan got across the sidewalk and immediately hurried into the store’s revolving glass door. He turned a hard left and slipped behind a display that didn’t expose his back to viewing from the outside but would allow him to reverse roles when his tail came through. He didn’t have long to wait.
The man entered and stopped just inside the doorway, causing a woman behind him to stop short and curse him for his unexpected move. The guy appeared to ignore her as the woman stepped around him, gave him the finger and then continued about her business. Bolan focused on his quarry. The man moved away from him and headed toward the escalator.
Bolan followed. The hunter had just become the hunted.
Amarillo, Texas
TYRA MACEWAN SIGHED with relief as she settled into the old-fashioned iron bathtub and let the hot, soapy water work its healing magic on her sore and tired body. It felt good to be home. She felt safe knowing her mother was downstairs. She could hear the woman humming some big-band tune while busying herself preparing dinner. It reminded MacEwan of a more innocent time: a time before the New Islamic Front terrorists and the penetration of Carnivore by Sadiq Rhatib; a time before she’d lost her innocence to the real horrors of terrorism; a time before she’d met a hotshot flyer named Jack and a soldier named Cooper.
MacEwan thought of the two men and smiled. The idea that men like that were keeping people safe was certainly a comfort. With their help, and the help of an electronics genius she knew only as “Bear,” MacEwan had managed to avert a world disaster. They weren’t out of the woods, not by a long shot. But if anyone could handle the problem, it was the people with whom MacEwan had forged a powerful alliance. MacEwan was especially concerned about Jack. She didn’t even know his last name, and it was probably better she didn’t, but she’d found herself immediately attracted to the strong, temperamental pilot with the quick wit and the sharp tongue. She knew a large part of Jack’s snappy sense of humor and Type A personality had to do with things from his past—things he couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t, talk about. And Cooper was even more closemouthed than his friend. He was a man of unprecedented talent as a soldier and involved in unspeakable brutality. Yes, Matt Cooper definitely had ghosts. Still, MacEwan could see a warmer side to him. It was one that he didn’t show much, because he couldn’t afford to let down his guard. He lived a life that few could live, and his world was filled with killing and bloodshed and danger. It was the kind of existence that MacEwan surmised would destroy most men in very little time. Then again, she had learned—just in those few short days she’d spent with him—that Cooper was not most men.
There was a sudden but soft rap at the bathroom door, followed by the sound of her mother’s voice. “Honey, are you almost finished? Dinner’s in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be right down, Mom,” MacEwan replied, looking at her watch on the nearby chair and realizing she’d been soaking for more than a half hour. She had to have dozed off because it felt as if she’d just settled into the very hot water that was now only lukewarm.
MacEwan pulled herself carefully from the old tub and stepped onto the carpet. She ran a large, fluffy towel against her firm body. She stopped for a moment in front of the full-length mirror mounted to the back of the bathroom door and studied her shapely curves as she ran the towel against her brown, curly hair.
You’re an attractive woman, plain and simple, she thought. Any guy who valued intelligence and sensitivity would think her a great catch.
MacEwan finished drying herself, and after slipping into jeans, socks and a pressed pink blouse, she headed down the creaking stairs to the kitchen. She found her mother bustling about, preparing dinner in her usual fashion, acting as if there weren’t a care in the world. Of course, she didn’t have any reason to worry. MacEwan had decided not to tell her mother what had really transpired over the past week or so. Despite the security risks, she saw no reason to
