Games Girls Play Read online

  “Haven’t seen him yet.” She moved across the deck, her bare feet sliding.

  “No? You sure?”

  “Pretty.” She kept hold of the pistol, the world graying around the edges.

  “Come on, baby, keep it together. Just until we get to the vehicle. Two blocks.”

  “I’m naked. Someone’s going to notice before we get two blocks.”

  “Nope. We’re like the naked wind.” Jane pulled something out of her pack. “Sundress. It’s better than nothing, even if you look like a leper.”

  “Fuck you.” She stumbled into it, crashing into Jane with one shoulder. “Fucking cuffs.”

  “Come on, baby.” Jane’s voice was all business, brusque, almost harsh. She got it. This fucking sucked.

  “I’m walking.” She ran, head down, hair matted and lank down her back. Rose put one foot in front of the other, willing her legs to pump. She ignored the heat of the asphalt, the sound of rifle shots behind her.

  She’d run until after she was dead.

  Then maybe she could rest.

  The ping of a bullet sounded a few feet to her right. Looked like they’d used up their minutes.

  She turned, aimed, trying to focus.

  “Top left, baby.” Jane helped her, swinging her around a tiny bit.

  She squeezed off two rounds, biting off her scream.

  “Bingo.” Jane got them moving again, then let her slump into the passenger seat of a sleek black SUV.

  “Go. Go. Go.” She wasn’t going to hold onto consciousness much longer.

  “I got this.” They peeled out of the parallel spot they were in, Jane steering through the waterfront district like a pro, using one hand to unfasten her cuffs. Oh. Oh thank God.

  Rose sucked in a breath, hurting near unbearably. Go. Go. Go.

  “There’s a shot in the bag, Rosie. We’re golden. There were just the three, and Marty is our control.”

  “Golden. My Jane.” She dug out the syringe, injected herself, the warmth flooding her almost immediately. That was good shit.

  “Hey, like I was gonna let you rot.” Jane’s dark eyes were hidden by aviator shades, but Rose could see the smile curve Jane’s lips.

  “I would’ve understood.” Mostly.

  “Bullshit. You’d haunt me for life. Can you get your seatbelt on? I want miles behind us.”

  “I can. Yeah.” She hoped. She’d try. It would be good enough.

  “I know you can, baby. Then you can sleep until we stop for triage on your injuries.”

  She chuckled. “So sexy when you’re working.”

  “Shit, I’m sexy, full stop.”

  The words made her smile. Her Jane. She leaned her head back against the headrest.

  Free.

  She was free.

  She closed her eyes against the tears that wanted out and let her girl drive.

  Chapter Nine

  Jane didn’t dare code in to Marty. He would know she wasn’t dead, that Rose had been sprung. She wanted support on this gig, but she was on her own.

  The urge to stop to do a med check on Rose rode her hard. They needed distance, but that arm looked bad, and Rose had burns that needed tending.

  Jesus. She wanted to hurt someone, make them scream, writhe. Hurt.

  Instead, she checked the map on the GPS unit, then changed to the right-hand lane, the bayou rising up on either side of them.

  She was heading for her place, at least, then she was going to get them out of the country. Someplace warm, someplace lazy.

  Rose looked at her, cheeks bright pink. “How’s it going?”

  Those feverish eyes worried her. Damn it. “We’re fixin’ to get off the highway.”

  Her redneck was showing.

  “Good. I stink.”

  “You so do.” She grinned over at Rosie before shaking her head. “Like Mobile pond water.”

  “Bitch.” Rose chuckled softly. “I got one with a piece of broken pallet. Assholes.”

  “I saw the report. Marty was so proud.”

  “I wanted out.”

  “You got it, huh? I need to get you to triage, baby.” She hated the way Rosie’s head was bobbing like a baby’s.

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” She was slurring her words.

  Jane nodded even though she wanted to shake her head. “Of course you will, but you know me and my lists.”

  “I think this one was yours, love. You get the point.”

  Jane chuckled, surprised that Rosie was thinking of her games. “No, I mean my checklists. One. Rescue my girl. Two. Get medical taken care of. Three. Go to Tuscany.

  “I like Tuscany. I want to go too.”

  “That’s on the list. Check.” She hit the blinker and pulled into the exit lane.

  “Oh good.” Rose closed her eyes, head tilting.

  “Just breathe, baby. Sing to me or something.” She knew that Rosie was a closet torch singer.

  “You hate when I sing.”

  “But that way I know you’re awake.”

  “No sleeping?”

  “Not yet. You napped for a long time. I need you to keep me from drifting off.”

  “Oh.” Rose swallowed and watched her. “This isn’t a dream, right? I’m not going to wake up in that box?”

  “Nope. I’m just sorry I took so long.” She turned off on a county road lined with cypress and Spanish moss, one she knew by heart. Thirty-two miles to her bayou bolt hole.

  God, she loved this part of the country, the history of it. She hated the humidity, but hey, it was a tradeoff.

  “Talk to me, Rose.”

  “I’m tired, love.”

  Every time Rose called her love, hope bloomed in her chest.

  “I know you are. Once I make sure you’re properly treated, you can rest for days.” She hoped.

  “Just promise me a bath, lady. With soap.”

  “The good stuff, baby. The rose scented.”

  “Rose scented.” Her Rosie chuckled. “Rock on.”

  “I know, right.” Jane pushed the big black car to its limits.

  The roads back here were old, potted, and she didn’t want to jostle Rose more than she had to, but she needed to get her inside, somewhere still and safe. They flew down the old highway, turning off on an even smaller road where the trees were like a tunnel.

  “Big trees. Such big trees.”

  “Yeah. They’re older out this way.”

  “Older.” Rose’s voice was all breath, no strength.

  “Yep. Hundreds of years.”

  This time her girl didn’t answer, just sighed.

  There. She could see the top of the old barn at the end of the lane. Yes. Almost home.

  Rose was sleeping, or passed out, or something. She could still hear Rose breathing, so her girl would make it. She didn’t have a choice.

  Jane’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, a growl building inside her chest. This was utter bullshit, letting Rose take the fall for a job she’d actually done, that she’d collected the paycheck on. Fuckers.

  They were going to let Rose take the fall for her handler too, no question. Jane had to get Rose on her feet and out of the country, and then figure out how to rectify that so they weren’t hunted to extinction.

  Marty and Ben would help, she hoped. They were in this shit together.

  She slid neatly into the drive of the old farmhouse, then drove around back, keying the opener for the decrepit carriage building. Well, it looked decrepit. In fact, it was a state-of-the-art garage and command center.

  She activated her security systems remotely, then unfastened Rose’s seatbelt. “Come on, baby. Bath time.”

  Bath. Drugs. A milkshake. Real rest.

  Rose blinked at her, eyes cloudy. Then those hands settled on her shoulders, Rose holding up part of her own weight, even with the bad arm.

  “Good girl. Good girl. Come on.”

  “I’m tired, Jane.”

  “I know, baby. We’re at a safe place. Bath. Bed. Soup.”


  “Perfect. I’d walk around the block for a bath.”

  “My fastidious girl.” Jane hauled Rose into the house, up the stairs and right back to the bathroom. She’d redone it two years ago, and it would be the best place to treat those wounds.

  “Yours.” Rose saw the bathroom and actually teared up.

  “I got you. Look at the seat in the big tub, huh?” She eased Rose out of the sundress, now sticky with sweat and blood.

  “Uh-huh. I. Uh-huh.” Rose sucked in deep breaths, one after another.

  “Shh. I got you, baby.”

  “I hope so. I’m a little fucked.”

  “I know, but we can fix you.” Jane believed that with everything in her.

  “Oh good.”

  She put Rose in the bottom of the tub, got the warm water raining down on her. The steam began to rise, and she grabbed the soap. The dirt disappeared, leaving burns and cuts, deep bruises and scrapes.

  Rage burned in the pit of her belly, and she wanted to go back and kill those assholes all over again.

  The arm was the worst of it, she thought. There were some deep kidney bruises, a missing fingernail, but the arm was broken, right under the elbow. She’d get Rose clean and set that arm. She washed it gently, checking for a clean break or bone shards.

  Rose groaned softly, lips curling back.

  “Shh. It’s okay, baby. It’s not going to poison you.”

  “Feels like it. Hurts like a bitch.”

  “I bet it does. It’s pretty broke. No fragments that I can tell, though.”

  “You can splint it up.”

  “I so can.” Jane grinned, just ready to be back to normal.

  Rose looked at her, and then Jane got a half smile. “Thanks, huh? For not just shooting me in the head. I know that was the job.”

  “Yeah. Lipke thought I would do that. Bastards.” No, she had saved her girl, and she would keep them safe until Rose recovered.

  “Yeah. They killed Shelly, huh?”

  “And your house sitter.” Jane was never one to mince words. “They’re blaming Shelly on you.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Surprise, surprise.”

  “I know, right?” She drained the red water and pulled more hot water out of tap.

  “They’re going to come for you next.”

  Jane knew that. She also knew that Rose had enough cash to retire, just like she did. They would go somewhere, and if anyone got too close, they’d move on. Together.

  She didn’t bother to answer Rose, just kept washing and rinsing, making sure she didn’t hurt any more than she had to. It took four washings before all that was left was milk-pale skin and vicious bruises and scarlet slashes of wounds.

  Nothing needed stitches, she didn’t think. A couple of butterflies, a few places where she used Super Glue to bind little things. She got Rose dried off, warm and settled, and patched her lover up.

  Then she drugged Rose to the gills with a cocktail of anti-anxiety, pain meds and muscle relaxants before going to work on that arm.

  Rose watched her, pupils a little misshapen from the drugs.

  “I have to splint this, Rosie.”

  “I know. I wish you didn’t.”

  “Close your eyes, baby, and breathe in through your nose.”

  Rose nodded and closed her bloodshot eyes. Jane had to swallow hard; that trust was perfect. Unbelievable. She took a deep breath of her own and wrenched Rose’s arm back into place, the sound like cutting through gristle.

  Rose lost what color that was left in her cheeks and went boneless, unconscious, just too worn to hold on. That was a blessing, because she didn’t fight or tense when Jane wrestled her into a splint. Jesus, what a week.

  She got Rose covered and settled, then changed her own clothes. She was soaked. Jane rolled her head on her neck, knowing she couldn’t take a sleeping pill like she wanted. She’d just have to wait ‘til her girl woke up.

  Rose slept like the dead, still and silent, breath soft and slow. Jane curled up close, half of her attention focused out, where she could hear someone coming.

  The security system was up and live, but it didn’t matter.

  They were being hunted now.

  Fucking assholes, burning her and Rose, killing Shelly, and all for fucking assholes that sold little girls to be whores.

  Well, and maybe a little issue of Rosie offing someone’s son, but that was business. The fact that they didn’t have Rosie’s back? That was politics.

  Jane fucking hated politics.

  She sighed, battling to stay awake. Rose had way more reason to sleep than she did.

  Chapter Ten

  There wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t hurt. Not an inch. Rose stayed still and tried to think, tried to remember. Where was she? She tensed, making her muscles scream harder. Was she still in the box? No, the stench was gone, and so was the wet.

  “Easy. You’re safe.”

  Jane’s husky voice poured over her like warm water.

  “Jane.”

  “Hey, baby. Don’t wiggle. That arm will throb.”

  “‘kay. You’re safe?” She was safe?

  “We’re good right now. As soon as you’re mobile, we’ll be Oscar Mike.”

  Mobile. Right. She tried to think about sitting up, about standing, but her body had forgotten how, sort of. “Man, you must have given me the good drugs.”

  “I did. You needed to sleep without waking for a bit.”

  She turned her head, the muscles around her neck screaming. “How bad are things?”

  Time for a sitrep.

  “Marty says you’re completely burned. Your arm is good to go as long as we don’t have to fight our way out of here. Your feet are a mess. They caned you, looks like.”

  “Yeah, that was fun as hell. I think I’ll add it to my daily workout.” Except not so much. Her stomach clenched, and she forced herself to calm down, to put those moments in a box and lock it away.

  “Uh-huh. Only not. We have about two days if Ben does his job.”

  “I can go now.” She was tough. She could move. It wouldn’t kill her, right?

  “No. You rest as much as you can. I’m monitoring movement.”

  Rose thought about arguing, but this was going to be it for her. Jane was going to have to make the right noises, say the right things. Hell, she was going to have to become someone else, say goodbye, and she was too tired for that shit right now.

  Jane glanced at her, those hazel eyes shrewd. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “Me too.” She was going to miss her life like a lost limb. More than that, though, she was going to miss Jane. Tears threatened and she forced them back. Fuck that shit, she was a pro. You lost people. Even the most important people.

  “You’re thinking too hard, Rosie.”

  “Is that possible as good as you have me doped up?”

  “It is. You’re more affected physically than mentally, and you know it.” Jane searched her face, nothing guarded about her expression. Just worried.

  “I’ll make it.” She tried to reach up, but her arm screamed, wrenched at her.

  “I know. We’ll do this. Together.” Jane bent and pressed a kiss to her open mouth. “I’m on this, baby. Like I promised in Spain. I’m done with hiding away.”

  “Together? Like you and me?”

  “Well, who else, woman? You and the mouse in your pocket?” Now Jane frowned at her, lips pursed.

  “I. You.” She stared, eyes wide. “Really?”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Rose. Why would I want to do this job without you to compete with?”

  “I don’t know.” Her heart started racing, blood pounding in her ears.

  She couldn’t think.

  “No one. Benny is a nutbag. Marty is a control now. I won’t do it without you. I was thinking Tuscany. Or maybe the Amalfi coast.”

  “The sun in Italy makes your skin glow.” Her head was going to explode.

  “It does. I know it’s not Malaga, but it’s better
than the Caribbean.” Jane gave her a sip of water.

  She would have nodded, but the pain was building again and her eyes closed.

  “Open up. I have morphine drops. I don’t want to have to give you more shots.”

  “I’m trying to suck it up.” She opened, let Jane drop the bitter medicine under her tongue.

  “Right now you don’t need to, baby.”

  “I can be a drama llama for twenty-four more hours, huh?”

  “You so can.” The drugs made Jane’s voice buzzy like bees.

  “I wished for you.” She whispered the words like they were the biggest secret ever.

  Jane stroked her hair back off her face. “It killed me, how long it took me to find you. Marty ran it like an op, made me wait until it was safe. I wanted to rip that place apart with my bare hands.”

  She believed Jane would have done it too. Destroyed the fucking world for her.

  “Sleep a little longer, baby.” Jane kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

  “Okay. I trust you.” She trusted Jane enough to sleep, maybe even to dream.

  “I love you, Rosie. You dream about that.”

  “My Jane.” Her lady.

  “Yours. You know that now, right? No doubts?”

  “I know. No doubts.” She reached out with her good hand, twined their fingers together.

  “Good deal.” Jane hummed for her, some weird song from Cajun country. Something they’d learned together in NOLA a lifetime ago.

  Her eyelids were so heavy, her bones dissolved into the mattress. She would rest, and she would heal, and then she’d tear apart any asshole who tried to come between them.

  She thought Jane might like that.

  Chapter Eleven

  The back of her neck was beginning to itch. Jane knew that meant it was time to move on, but she hated to shove Rose in a car yet. That arm was still causing agony every time Rosie moved, and those poor feet were raw. Her girl was the color of milk, and there was a grayness to her, a bone-deep exhaustion.

  She would give them one more day, a day to stuff Rose with juice and vitamins. If they had to resort to speed they would, but not until they were Oscar Mike.

  “We need to go, don’t we?” Rose looked at her. “I can do it.”