Deadly Games - Cate Noble [14]
He’d been spotted.
A woman, no two women, exited the car simultaneously and ran toward where he lay. The woman carrying the flashlight gasped and skittered to a stop. “I think … he’s dead.”
Taz raised his head and groaned, getting their attention. Both women scrambled toward him once again. They were young; college age.
He managed to perform a quick mental intrusion and learned the women were headed home, to Tennessee, from Eastern Kentucky University.
The blonde with the flashlight dropped to her knees beside him. “You’re hurt. Don’t try to move. Mary Anne can call an ambulance.”
“I’m fine.” Taz winced as he pushed up on his elbows. “Maybe a scrape or two, but nothing serious. Bet I looked like roadkill.”
The one named Mary Anne glanced around the highway. “What happened? Where’s your car?”
“I was hitchhiking.” Taz realized his blunder as the women exchanged uneasy looks. Both wondered why he was hitchhiking this late at night, on a relatively deserted highway. Then he caught an undercurrent of fear. Double crikey! Mary Anne had just seen a horror movie with that same theme.
“I’ve been backpacking up in Cranks Creek,” Taz rushed on. “But a bear wandered into my camp and demolished my tent, my sleeping bag. Everything. I decided to head back to civilization and spend my last few nights in a motel, but I sure picked the wrong road to thumb a ride on. The only car that came by didn’t see me. I jumped back, but he still clipped me with the fender and kept on going.”
“That’s hit and run,” the first girl said. Liz. Her name was Liz. “Did you get a tag number?”
“Nah. Too dark.” Eager to demonstrate that he was unharmed—and harmless—Taz pushed to his feet. “A hot shower will fix what ails me. That and talking to my girlfriend. Trip’s been miserable without her.”
Mary Anne and Liz both grinned, their relief evident. “We can give you a ride to the next town if you like.”
Taz smiled. I like.“If it’s no trouble that would be great.”
Chapter Five
Edroy, TX
October 4, 4:15 A.M.
The whoop-whoop reverberation of another medivac helicopter lifting off into the night faded. Until a second one moved in, whoop-whoop, cleared to land.
Harry Gambrel had been lucky, pulling into the rest area not too far from Corpus Christi, just before the fiery, multicar crash closed the northbound lanes of Interstate 37.
Adding insult to injury, gawkers in the southbound lane had triggered a second, even more horrific accident that included two buses and a fuel truck. The fireball had lit up the night like high noon.
“Rubbernecking freaks,” he muttered, watching the scene beyond the crowded rest area’s parking lot continue to unfold.
Sirens wailed, indistinguishable from one another. According to news reports, traffic was backed up for twenty-plus miles in both directions. Harry could believe it.
Red and blue strobe lights flashed as far as he could see. Every cop, every fire truck, every ambulance in the southern part of the Lone Star state must have been there, which made him nervous.
That they were too busy to notice anyone in the rest area didn’t do much to help. He didn’t like being confined.
The whole thing reminded Harry of a scene from the Iraq War. He’d felt trapped back then, too.
Sweat beaded on his upper lip as he fought the flashback. Damn insurgents had moved in on the survivors of the ambushed supply convoy that Harry had hooked a ride with. Moving fast, Harry had scrambled over the wrecked Humvee to get behind a twenty-year-old Marine sniper.
Ramming a fresh clip into his nine-mil, Harry had prepared to take his own life. What the insurgents would do to a captured soldier paled in comparison to what a captured CIA operative faced. They’d skin Harry alive just to celebrate.
The sweet sound of an incoming air attack—twin Apaches raining hot lead, clearing a space so a Black-hawk could land—had sounded like angels singing.
Unfortunately, the ballsy Marine had taken a fatal hit. Harry had rolled the kid’s body away and kept on firing even though the insurgents had either fled or already