When Nate entered the diner, the big plastic clock above the counter reminded him that it was after midnight. The aroma of strong coffee mingled with the fading smells of numerous meals and the ever-present odor of grease. The place was spotlessly clean, but the equipment and furniture had seen better days.
Nate glanced around the partially deserted eatery. A couple of guys sat at the counter drinking coffee, a middle-aged couple sat cuddled lovingly in a back booth, and an elderly man sat alone up front, reading a newspaper. Nick Romero sat in the second booth from the front door, and he wasn't alone. He was talking to a very attractive brunette.
Damn Romero, Nate thought. What the hell was he doing flirting with some dame? Nate knew that Romero liked women, and had spent over forty years living up to his nickname, but now wasn't the time for him to make a new conquest.
Nate approached the table, determined to control the urge to jerk Romero up by his collar and to send the brunette packing.
Romero looked up at Nate and smiled. "Sit down, old buddy, and let me introduce you to the lady."
Nate sat down on the opposite side of the booth and gave Romero a deadly look. "I haven't got time to meet any of your friends. This is business. Remember?"
Romero's smile widened. "Don't get bent out of shape. This lady is an agent. Donna Webb is going to be keeping an eye on Cyn until you finish things with Ryker."
Nate took a closer look at the woman sitting beside Romero. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Dressed in jeans, turtleneck pullover and a baggy plaid jacket, she could have passed for the average woman on the street.
Nate offered his hand. Donna took it. "I left Cyn at Mimi Burnside's. Dundee is with them."
"What did you think of Dundee?" Romero asked.
"I think he's capable," Nate said.
"Yeah, he's capable." Shaking his head, Romero laughed. "Sam Dundee was one of the meanest, toughest agents I ever worked with. He always reminded me a little bit of you."
"Then I'm glad he was available on such short notice," Nate said, then turned his attention to Donna Webb. "Cyn will probably feel more comfortable with a female agent. She hates the idea of having a bodyguard. I haven't told her yet that we're planning on sending her to her father's home in Savannah."
"You realize we can't force her to leave Jacksonville if she isn't willing to go," Donna said.
"She'll be willing to go," Nate said. "I can promise you that."
Nate spent the next thirty minutes drinking coffee, discussing the situation and making plans with Romero and Agent Webb. By the time the three of them left the diner, Nate felt reassured that Donna was as capable of protecting Cyn as any male agent.
Outside, the cool night air swirled around them. Overhead storm clouds obscured the pale moon and blackened the normally starry sky. Streetlights illuminated the parking lot, as did the huge neon Open 24 Hours sign flashing with bright, colorful light.
"Do you want to go with me to drop Donna off at Mrs. Burnside's?" Romero asked.
Nate shook his head. "No. I've already said my goodbyes."
"Okay. I'll meet you at your place in a couple of hours and we'll start tracking Ryker. If he can find you, then we should be able to find him."
Donna put her hand on Nate's arm. "Don't worry about Ms. Porter. I promise to take good care of her."
"Yeah, I know you will." Nate forced a fake smile, feeling nothing but loneliness and dread.
Romero and Donna headed straight for the brown sedan parked on the left side of the diner. Nate walked in the opposite direction toward his Jeep.
A speeding car flew down the street in front of the diner. No other traffic stirred at such a late hour. At first Nate heard the roar of the motor, then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vehicle swerve off the road, as if the driver had lost control.
Adrenaline pumped through his body like floodwater through a broken dam. Turning quickly, he caught a glimpse of a metal object sticking out of the car window, something held by the man sitting on the passenger's side. The moment his mind registered the object as a gun, Nate yelled out a warning as he dropped to the sidewalk, seeking cover behind the Camaro parked beside his Jeep.
The earsplitting sound of an Uzi firing repeatedly echoed in Nate's ears. Hunched on his bent knees, Nate made his way down the front of the Camaro as the Uzi's lethal clatter rang out a deadly toll. He saw Donna go down, her slender body crumpling, her arms flying about in midair as the force of the Uzi's bullets ripped through her. Then the attacker turned his attention to Romero, who had just pulled his automatic from his shoulder holster. His hand was in mid-aim, his gun pointed, when he took his first hit.
Nate opened his mouth on a silent scream of protest. Then suddenly, he felt a sharp pain lance his side.
As quickly as the car appeared, it disappeared. The silence following the ungodly round of shots was morbid in its intensity;
Dammit all, he had never figured Ryker would try a sneak attack. He'd been so sure that he would want a face-to-face confrontation.
Running his fingers inside his jacket and alongside his rib cage, Nate felt the wet stickiness of his own blood. He knew he'd been hit.
As he struggled to stand, he noticed all the diner's customers coming to the door. But not one of them ventured outside. Nate saw that neither Donna nor Romero was moving. Blood covered both bodies. Nearby vehicles were dotted with splashes of red. Puddles of crimson formed on the sidewalk.
Nate checked Donna first. She was the closest to him. One of the bullets had taken off a chunk of her neck. She was dead.
Romero groaned when Nate leaned over him. "It's my leg," he said. "I'm bleeding like a stuck hog. I think he got the artery."
No matter how many times Nate had seen a comrade's body riddled with bullets or shattered by an explosion, the sight still sickened him. With trained instincts, Nate inspected the large hole in Romero's leg, then administered the correct amount of pressure to stop the flow of blood from the femoral artery which the Uzi's bullet had severed.
Turning his head toward the array of onlookers hiding inside the diner, Nate yelled, "Call an ambulance!"
The elderly man who had been quietly reading his newspaper stepped outside. "I done called 'em. Told 'em it was a shooting and to hurry." He hesitated in the open doorway. "Is she dead?"
"Yeah," Nate said. "She's dead."
"How about him?" the man asked, nodding toward Romero.
Nate looked down at his friend. "He's alive, and by God, he's going to stay that way." * * *
By the time Dundee answered the insistent ringing of the doorbell, Mimi and Cyn were standing in the living room, belting their robes and yawning.
Cyn's heart beat overtime. She had never known such fear. Not knowing whether a killer or the bearer of bad news stood outside Mimi's apartment triggered a surge of adrenaline within Cyn's trembling body.
Holding his Magnum, Dundee motioned for Mimi and Cyn to step back inside the bedroom. With one quick move, he swung open the door and aimed his automatic.
"Put your gun away, amigo," Emilio Rivera said.
"Who the hell are you?" Dundee asked.
Peering out into the living room, Cyn gasped when she saw Ramon Carranza's huge bodyguard. Mimi gave her a shove and they both took several tentative steps, stopping abruptly when Emilio glanced their way.
"What's wrong?" Cyn asked.
"Señora Porter." Emilio's dark eyes rested on her briefly, then looked over at Mimi. "Señora Burnside, you will help her dress. Please. Señor Carranza is waiting outside in the limousine."