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  “The last place your shooter wants to show up. And it’s hard to find. End of this old logging road. Not far. Close to the top of the mountain above Kingsbury Village. I haven’t been there in nearly a decade but spent a lot of time there as a kid. It’s a great place. View of the whole valley.”

  “I’m sure it’s nice,” she said. Small talk at this point wasn’t appealing to her. But the man had saved her life, and she needed him to get her to a place that would work as a safe house, so she indulged him.

  “You didn’t like border work?” she asked.

  “I did. For awhile.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “I’ll get out of your curly locks quick as I can,” she assured him. “Who owns this house?”

  Before he could answer that, his cell phone rang. He touched the synced phone button on the steering wheel. “Hey.”

  “Marco, when you getting here?”

  “Be there in about two minutes.”

  “Great. Can’t wait to see you.”

  Marco hung up. “You’ll love my uncle. He’s like an old-fashioned mountain man. I loved coming up here.”

  She was quickly losing any desire to further engage in conversation, and she wondered just how much bleed-out there was. She put a hand under her belt, and it didn’t feel very good.

  He must have noticed her movement, because he tried to ease along, but now she was too miserable to appreciate it. She had her eyes closed, felt her face muscles tighten. No hiding the pain any longer. Sometimes the pain of a wound didn’t show up until the adrenalin subsided. She was feeling the burn now, especially in her side.

  She had to call her cousin to get over the hatchery, but she didn’t want him going over there right now. She opened her eyes again and stared out the windshield as they turned toward the lake. It appeared like a mirage through the big lodgepole pines and outcrops of boulders.

  Ahead, perched high above Kingsbury Village and Zephyr Cove, the approaching stone and wood house indeed had a world-class view. The sun was suspended on the mountains across the lake. It would be down in half an hour. Already, shadows were sliding off the western slopes toward Tahoe City and Meeks Bay.

  She said, “Your uncle’s?”

  “Yes. Eagle’s view of nearly the entire twenty-two miles of Lake Tahoe, the ‘big water.’ He and I once walked around the entire shoreline, the Da’aw ‘a:go’a, as the Washo Indians called it. Did it in one day.”

  He eased to a crawl to avoid jolting her along the last stretch of rutted dirt road.

  “He’s got this temescal sweat hut and rock pool. Do you a world of good once you get those wounds dealt with. We used to sit out there at night. Nothing like it. The sky and the lake are—”

  “Sounds nice, but I don’t think I’ll have time,” she said, cutting him off.

  They lost sight of the house for a moment, then passed some trees, and it came back into view. And with it, a dozen or more cars parked near the house. Looked like a lot of people up on the deck.

  “You couldn’t be safer,” Marco said, as though anticipating her next comment. “Nobody in their right mind would mess with my uncle and his friends, even if they could find this place.”

  “Exactly who is your uncle?” she asked.

  He parked behind a white Lexus. “That man coming to meet us. I’ll be right back.”

  No way. Not happening. “Your uncle is Tony Cillo?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I think you should get me the hell out of here, if you don’t mind.”

  “Marco! Welcome home, boy!” the big voice of Tony Cillo boomed as he bounded down the steps of the porch.

  Marco, half out of the car, glanced at her and then turned to his uncle. “Let me talk to him and tell him I’ll be back.”

  Sydney tried to protest, but he was already walking toward Cillo. Up on the porch stood half the illegal bookies and crooks in Lake Tahoe.

  Had she the capacity at the moment to laugh, she would have. Her hero, her savior, was the nephew of Tony “Macaroni” Cillo!

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  Then, seeing the key still in the ignition, Sydney figured she could very easily slide over behind the wheel, steal the guy’s Shelby, and get the hell out of there. It was manual, and she was right at home with a stick…

  4

  Marco’s uncle bounded down the steps, looking all thrilled to see Marco. There were at least a dozen people behind him up on the deck and a WELCOME HOME sign on the porch railing. He came up toward the car with a big smile, saying, “I didn’t believe it when you said you were coming back here.”

  “Yeah.” Marco got out, glancing at his passenger.

  Marco’s uncle gave him a bear hug, a slap on his arm, then stepped back. “Good to see you, boy. Been a long time.”

  “You didn’t need to throw a party for me,” Marco said.

  “Hell, yes, I did.”

  “You’re looking good,” Marco said, thinking his uncle looked like he’d put on about thirty pounds. Fat and happy.

  “For an old, flea-bitten dog,” Cillo said with a wide grin. “Damn, it’s been way too long.”

  Cillo, now seeing Marco had a passenger, lowered his voice. “Heard some about all your troubles south of the border from your mom, but you don’t look any worse for wear. Gonna get you fixed up. Big things happening.” His eyes shifted to the car. “You got yourself a real serious ride. Damn fine car. You’re gonna have to give me a tour in that, but first an intro to your lady.”

  “She’s not exactly my lady,” Marco said. “Look, it’s great to be back, but I have something I need to deal with.” Marco glanced up on the crowded porch, where the party had slowed and attention was on him.

  Under the porch, Cillo’s old wolf-dog, Cujo, watched with yellow-eyed suspicion. That the dog was still alive was amazing. Had to be twenty years old, he thought. A real survivor. Like his master.

  On the deck, and no doubt up the hill behind the house at the sweat hut and pool, he heard the shrill giggles of liquored-up females.

  “Sure, sure. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.” Cillo waved his arm to embrace the Tahoe basin. “Things have changed. Something I want to get you involved in on the ground floor…if you’re of a mind to get rich, and I’m sure you are.”

  Marco grabbed his uncle’s arm and said, “I got a little problem here.” Marco realized his uncle was a little high. “Something I need to deal with now. I didn’t think there would be so many people.”

  “Hell, those are friends and associates of mine and soon to be of yours,” Cillo said. He stooped to get a better look at the female in the passenger seat of the Mustang.

  “There’s a problem,” Marco said again.

  “With women, there always is. Nothin’ can’t be fixed,” Cillo said. “What’s the deal? She angry at you?”

  “No. She’s been shot.”

  Cillo’s expression darkened after he took another look. Then his expression changed. Did he recognize her? Now Marco had his full attention.

  “Shot!” Cillo moved forward and peered again into the Mustang. “What the hell’s going on? Christ, you know who—?”

  “Somebody tried to kill her…at the hatchery. I picked her up running down the road in her bare feet. She needs somewhere—”

  “Hell, no,” Cillo said. “No-no-no. Can’t be. Damn, boy, why would you bring that woman, of all people, here? You shoulda dropped her off at the Carson Valley medical half a mile up the road from the hatchery.”

  “We had a bit of a chase. And she’s not interested in hospitals or cops right now. She didn’t explain. She needs her wounds cleaned.”

  His uncle gave him a cold, hard look. “This isn’t good, Marco. That woman ain’t welcome up here under any circumstances. She’s a goddamn pariah around the lake.”

  Behind them, the party seemed to slow as if sensing collectively something was wrong.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Marco said. “All I know is I found her running from the hatche
ry over in Gardnerville. Some guy chased us in a pickup but I lost him. Bastard put a couple bullets in her and in my car. She needs help.”

  Cillo turned as a couple men came down the steps from the porch, drinks in hand, celebrating, calling to Marco.

  “I’m dealing with something here, boys,” Cillo said. “We’ll be up in a minute. Go on back to the party.”

  The men stopped but didn’t go back up on the porch. They were staring at the car.

  Marco said, “I need some painkillers. You have Vicodin or anything? And if you have a medical kit—”

  “Boy, you don’t understand nothin’. You picked up the wrong goddamn woman to bring up here on my property.” Tony Cillo’s face muscles tightened. “You get that bitch outta here fast. Drop her wherever. In the fucking lake if you have to. Just away from here.”

  “Hey, the lady’s got wounds that need to be cleaned. And there’s a fucking shooter—”

  “Get her outta here now, Marco. Call me when you don’t have her anywhere near you. She’s poison. Go. I’d as soon nobody knows she’s with you. Call me when you’re rid of her. Move before these guys see her. She might end up with more than two bullets in her. I’ll explain about that crazy bitch later when you’re rid of her. Go!”

  Marco, enraged by his uncle’s attitude but seeing the gathering of his friends, knew he had to leave. They looked like they had already recognized her. Something going on here in paradise that can’t be good, he thought. I stumbled into a real mess.

  Marco said, “I’m going, but I got a shooter out there looking for her. You have a piece on you?”

  “Sorry, can’t help you there,” Cillo said. “You need to get rid of her and get rid of her fast. Go, and don’t be thinking of coming back here until she’s out of your hands. And don’t get into her shit, Marco. You’ve had enough trouble in your life. Time to know when to fold ‘em, as the song says.”

  Marco turned and went back to the car. He slid in behind the wheel, turned the key, and backed around, glancing one last time at his uncle, then pulled out.

  “You aren’t winning any popularity contests up here,” Marco said. “What’d you do, kill all the babies?”

  She had her arms wrapped around her stomach, her face pale, and it seemed to him her side had new blood. Then he saw blood on the steering wheel. “What’s this?”

  “I was going to take the car and go. Didn’t work out so well. Couldn’t get over the damn console.”

  He shook his head. I left Mexico and the border to get away from this kind of crap. He needed to deal with her real quick, and he had no desire to be out on the road, especially in daylight. He was going to have to pull over and deal with the wounds whether she liked it or not.

  He was very pissed at his uncle’s attitude, but maybe, once he understood what was going on, he’d have a change of mind. But first he had to deal with this woman, then get her off his hands fast.

  “If I’d stopped for that cup of coffee at Starbucks…”

  Sydney Jesup grimaced and nodded. “I’d be dead and you’d be seven dollars poorer.”

  5

  Sydney knew Cillo and the men who’d come down to greet Marco. They ran the loan-sharking business among other things. “I wish you had told me who your uncle was,” she said as they drove down the dirt road through the heavy lodgepole pines.

  “I had no reason to think it mattered.”

  “I said I was with the DA and sheriff’s department. Nobody there I saw is a normal, law-abiding citizen. Maybe two plus two?”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t been up here in over seven years. And you weren’t interested in bringing in the law, so I figured you were on a different path.”

  Realizing the magnitude of the impact this was going to have on both of them, Sydney said, “This isn’t good. You need to drop me off and get out of this.”

  “Maybe you need to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Maybe the best thing for you is not to know anything from me. Sooner you’re free of me, the better.”

  “Yeah, well, first things first. You have bullet wounds. You need medical attention, and I’m not free of you until I know you’re not going to die on me. Been through that kind of mess. I don’t need a repeat.”

  She didn’t ask what that was about. Her little fantasy relationship in her mind was now over. “The wounds are minor, and I’m not going to be your problem.”

  “What the hell did you do you have so many enemies?” Marco asked.

  “It’s what they think I can do that’s the problem.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Everybody who stands to profit from the biggest, most corrupt deal this lake has ever seen.”

  The car bounced in a rut and she made a painful grunt. Marco slowed and found a spot where he could pull off the road. He backed in between some pines and stopped.

  “What are you doing?” Sydney asked.

  “We’ll wait a bit. I don’t want to be running around in this car while there’s still some twilight, not with a shooter out there. We need to get those wounds wrapped. You die on me with your blood and DNA all over my car…won’t look good.”

  Sydney had no desire to hang around anywhere near the Cillo crowd. Her sense of good fortune at getting picked up by Marco took a bit of a hit. She trusted none of them. As far as she knew, they could well be the ones who sent the shooter.

  “I’m not bleeding that much. Just get me across the lake. There’s a house there that isn’t occupied—”

  “I will, just not yet,” he said. “In daylight, this car stands out like a Roman candle.” He glanced at the seat and the floor mat.

  “Sorry I’m messing up your car. And your homecoming.”

  “Yeah, well, it is what it is,” he said. “Let me get something to wrap those wounds.”

  He popped the trunk, then got out. She saw him check the bullet holes on his way to the back. When he returned, he had a T-shirt and neat little stack of boxer shorts. At least they looked clean. In fact, new.

  He opened her door and she reached out for them. “I can stick these to the wounds. That should contain any further bleed-out. I have this doctor friend in Tahoe City. It’ll be dark soon. And I’ll pay for cleaning and repairing your car.”

  “Let me take a look at the wounds. See how bad they are. I can wrap a T-shirt around and use the shorts to put enough pressure—”

  “Not necessary. I can just stuff them against the wounds. I don’t think they’re all that bad.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Relax. I’m not operating. Just trying to see how bad you’re hit. I’ve had plenty of field first aid, and I’ve seen about every kind of wound there is.”

  “My doctor friend—”

  “Right now, I’m your field medic, so stop arguing. Scoot your legs out so I can reach you better.”

  After she’d complied, he gently pulled her shirt up to look at the side wound. She peeked, and it looked nasty. At least a three-inch cut.

  He said, “It may have nicked a rib. You’re lucky. You turned just a little and something vital would have taken the bullet.”

  He put a folded pair of his shorts on the wound and told her to hold it against it. Then he pulled out a pocketknife and made a cut in the T-shirt so he could rip it to make a long strip. He wrapped it around her torso and reached around to tie it, their faces close, making her look off at the trees.

  She mocked herself for reacting to this guy like she was some teenybopper, feeling her cheeks get hot and her pulse quicken, wondering if her breath was as foul as it tasted.

  “No major terrible with that one,” he said, pulling back and checking his handiwork. “You’ll probably need stitches. Or some QuikClot would work. Let’s see the leg.”

  No way. “I don’t think that’s anything. I’ll just put something there and we can get out of here,” she said, feeling a lot more defensive about the location of that wound and the guy all over her, with her smelling from the sweat and working all morning with fish. The
thing about him was his easy cockiness.

  He paused and leveled dark-chocolate eyes at her. Not hostile so much as irritated. “Look, when somebody jumps into whatever swamp you’re in, pulls you out, and wants to make sure you don’t continue to bleed all over his new Shelby, maybe just let him tie up your wounds, all right? That too much to ask?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “And get over being sensitive or whatever. Believe me, I’m only interested in saving my car, not in seeing if you’re put together different from every other female on this suffering planet. Okay?”

  Fuck you, she thought. “Yes, okay.”

  “Unzip and I’ll help you pull the jeans down.”

  For want of something better to come at him with, she said, “I figured you for Jockey briefs.”

  “I don’t like confinement. Of any kind.”

  She hated that he could get a smile out of her so easily. She blamed her ridiculous reaction and lack of willpower on being dehydrated and the loss of blood. He did have a good sense of humor and, no doubt, had a long, sad trail of broken hearts behind him.

  Then he said, as if to mollify her, “Believe me, if getting close to your crotch excites me, I’ll have no choice but to shoot myself.”

  She let out a sardonic chuckle. You win, she thought, then said, trying to be as nonchalant about it as he was, “Fine. I guess there’ll be no foreplay.”

  “You’re in a Shelby. What more foreplay do you need?”

  She smiled and shook her head. I hate this guy, she thought. He’s way too smooth. She focused a moment on the woods. The rustle of squirrels chasing each other. Tahoe, sub-alpine, had not escaped the heat wave scorching the West or her own personal heat wave from this guy examining her up close and personal.

  She surrendered, pulled down the zipper, and tried to help with the pants, lifting her behind up off the seat as he tugged. Once her jeans were down around her ankles, he gently pulled her knees apart to see the wound on her inner thigh. It wasn’t as big as the one on her left side, but it still stung.

  Even more than she hated that she smelled, was being all sweaty and bloody. At least she had on nice underwear. The thought made her eyes roll, and she shook her head at how ridiculous this was.