Alien Tango

my arm, but a man cleared his throat and Chuckie froze. “Oh, Mr. Reynolds, please don’t try anything.”
    We both turned toward the door as this man walked closer to us. He was about six feet, slender, sort of attractive in a reptilian way. He was familiar—and he was holding a gun.
    “What an interesting sight. So rare to see Centaurion teamed up with your group, Mr. Reynolds.”
    I shrugged. “We have an exchange program, Mr. Reid.”
    Leventhal Reid gave me a slow smile. “I’m looking forward to learning all about it, Miss Katt.”
    “Look, I have nothing to do with these people,” the man behind me said. Reid moved the gun and shot him.
    I would have screamed, but I was too busy body slamming Chuckie into the stall. Only one could go through at a time and he was closer. “Help them, help me, help Jeff.” I shoved again and he flew through and disappeared, shouting my name. For once, the bad guy wouldn’t have a man I cared about to use as a hostage.
    Of course, the alternative was that Reid had me as a hostage. “Let’s go, please,” he said pleasantly. “I’m sure you don’t want to have to explain that man’s body to the police.”
    “I’d love to see the police right about now.” Particularly the trigger-happy rookie from the first part of this adventure from hell. Sadly, he didn’t appear to be around.
    Reid grabbed my upper arm, made sure it hurt, and then dragged me out. He slid the gun into his jacket pocket and took his hand out.
    I spotted a Mazda3 sport wagon right in front of the sliding glass doors. Its driver was out of the car and the car was running. Stilettos are the greatest shoes in the world if you want to cause someone pain, and I did. I faked a stumble, slammed my heel into the tender part of Reid’s foot, and leaned all my weight on it. According to the research, since my stilettos were reinforced with metal rods and the heels transmitted such a large amount of force into a tiny area, this was the equivalent of an elephant jumping onto his foot.
    He screamed, I wrenched my shoe out of his foot and my arm out of his grasp, and ran like hell for that car. Pulled out the Porsche keys and tossed them to the Mazda’s owner. “Federal agent, you’re trading up, Terminal Three, third floor!”
    I leaped in, slammed and locked the door, and floored it. Reid was doing that running-hopping thing you do when one foot is hurt. He fired at me, but I was out of range.
    Raced through the airport like a bat out of hell. The car had a full tank and handled almost as well as my Lexus. It also had Sirius. I turned on the radio, found the hard rock station, and tried to think.
    My first reaction was to get to Caliente Base. But I had to figure Reid knew where it was by now. There was probably a tracking device on something in the jet, maybe even in our luggage. He was here, in Pueblo Caliente, so he had to know we were, too.
    The police could easily be in his pocket. Not all, but it wouldn’t take many for me to be dead fast. I didn’t have a gun or even hairspray. I had a hundred dollars, a room key, my driver’s license, a dead cell phone, and a stolen car.
    No way I was going to my parents’. Chuckie was hopefully safe in the Dome, but that was a state away, and I needed a gate to get there. I could try going back for my car, but the Princess was a one way in and out place, and getting trapped there would be too easy.
    Bon Jovi’s “Lost Highway” came on. Well, why not? I had a full tank and Tucson had an airport.

CHAPTER 68
    I GOT ONTO INTERSTATE 10 and put the pedal down. Easy enough drive, and I’d done it a lot. When I’d been a marketing manager, two of my big accounts had been in Tucson. Sometimes I drove, sometimes I flew. I knew the highway and the airport. I was good.
    Had plenty of time to think, and a ton to think about. I wanted to focus on staying alive, but what I ended up coming back to was Martini. And now Chuckie. Brian hadn’t been a romantic issue. Even if I’d been interested in him, Martini and I had been a couple all of two weeks ago. Not being with him had seemed like an impossibility.
    But something Serene had said about the way the drugs worked was gnawing at me. They enhanced feelings already there. So Martini suspected me of being unfaithful, and he was pretty angry about it. He had some reason, but there were only so many times I could apologize for the brief moment of lustful insanity between me and Christopher before it became a cancer.