"How can you tell with that bush on his face? It's got to be as phony as your mustache."

"I don't know. It's just…something." He shrugged. "I may have run into him before if he's a hired gun."

"Possibly. Are you worried enough to walk away?"

Was he worried? He was always worried when an unexpected element appeared in a deal. Yet familiarity was not recognition…"I guess not."

"Good," Jan said. "I want the deal done. I don't think Karlstadt's man will try to stop us as long as he sees us make the exchange. And Karlstadt knows you're holding back half of the goods."

"Let's get it over with and get you on that cruise." He waited until the crowd around the playground entrance had dispersed before strolling toward the red waste can, keeping one eye on the man by the stand. "A department store shopping bag?"

"Right. De Bijenkorf's."

The shopping bag was jammed to one side of the can, the top stuffed with newspaper. So far, so good. While Jan blocked him from view, he retrieved it and moved quickly toward the phone booth. "Come on, Jan. I can practically see you walking up that gangplank now. You've got it ma-"

A popping sound.

Silencer.

Shit.

He dove for the ground as he reached for his gun. "Down, Jan."

"Too…late." Jan was falling. "My…leg. Run, Michael."

The blond man was sprinting toward them with a gun drawn.

Another shot.

The bullet whistled by Travis's ear as he rolled over in the grass. He got off a shot.

The blond man faltered, blood sprouting high on his shoulder. But he was almost on top of Jan. He grabbed Jan's shirt, jerking him to a kneeling position, then pressed the gun to Jan's temple. "Throw down the gun and pitch me the money, Travis."

"Screw you. Let him go, or you'll have a bullet in your brain before you can press the trigger."

"Do what I say and I won't kill him. I'm actually grateful to van der Beck. He's been very helpful. Give me the money and I'll let him live." His finger tightened on the trigger. "Even though you've caused me no end of trouble, I'll even let you live for a while. Your usefulness isn't at an end yet."

"You're lying. You won't do it. There are witnesses all over the place."

"I dislike witnesses, but I'll make an exception. Look at my face."

The cold son of a bitch would kill him. He threw him the shopping bag. "I'm putting down the gun. Now back away from him."

"Very wise." He glanced over his shoulder as he heard a commotion at the gate. Several security guards were racing toward them. He smiled. "Never mind. I'd love to stretch this out, but it seems we're about to be interrupted. Next time."

He shot Jan in the head.

"No!"

Agony twisted through Travis as he watched Jan's blood and brains splatter on the grass. "Jan!"

Dead.

And the man who had done it was streaking down the path toward the street.

Travis grabbed his gun, leapt to his feet, and raced after him. He could hear the shouts of the security guards behind him.

Another shot. This one not muffled by a silencer.

Who was shooting?

It didn't matter. All that mattered was catching the man running ahead of him and killing the son of a bitch.

Stinging pain.

Something warm and wet running down his side.

Keep running.

The man had reached the street and was ducking into a small Volvo.

Travis lifted his gun but couldn't get a clear shot as the Volvo pulled away from the curb.

Gone. Rage tore through him as he watched the car screech around the corner.

Shouts behind Travis. Another shot.

Get away. Find the son of a bitch later.

He ran across the street, down the alley, and then around the corner. His car was parked four blocks away. Reach it. Get back to the farmhouse.

Streaks of pain ripped through him. Murder. Jan's head exploding.

Don't think about it yet.

Get back to the farmhouse.

Jan…

Chapter Thirteen

"Get me a first aid kit, Melissa." Galen flung open the door and helped Travis into the kitchen. "The stupid ass got himself shot. I knew I should have gone with him."

"Shot?" Melissa felt her heart jerk. "Bad?"

"A bullet wound is never good." Galen lowered Travis gently into a chair. "It only grazed his ribs, but he's lost some blood."

"Who did it?"

Travis shook his head. "I'm not sure. I have to think about it. Just get a bandage on me and give me something to clear my head."

"CIA?"

"This had nothing to do with Cassie."

"How do you know if-"

"Get him bandaged before you cross-examine him," Galen told her. "And women are supposed to be the gentler sex."

"Shut up. Go in the bedroom and get Jessica's medical bag, but don't wake her. She just got to sleep."

"She's a doctor. Maybe we should-"

"I can take care of this. I don't want her bothered."

"Heaven forbid," Travis murmured. "We wouldn't want your sister bothered."

"No, we wouldn't. You've put her through enough hell." She went to the sink and filled a basin of water. "Take off your shirt. " She saw him struggling and said through her teeth, "Oh, stop it. You look like you're going to pass out. I'll help you." She put the basin on the table and carefully stripped the shirt off him. "I take it your 'business' didn't work out as you hoped."

"You could say that. Hurry, will you?"

"I'm hurrying. Do you think I like fussing over you?"

"Here's the bag." Galen set the leather satchel on the table and opened the latch. "May I help? I'm pretty good at first aid myself."

" I bet you are." Melissa deftly cleaned the long, jagged graze. "All those battle wounds…"

"What?"

"Nothing. Give me that antiseptic." She glanced at Travis's face. "This is going to hurt." She didn't wait for a response but put the antiseptic on the open cut. He didn't flinch. He looked as if he didn't feel it. Her lips twisted. "Macho man."

"Yeah, that's me."Travis looked at Galen. "Get on the phone and find us another place. I wasn't followed here, but we need to make sure that the man who killed Jan isn't able to-"

"Jan's dead?" Galen interrupted. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Travis."

"So am I." Travis looked at Melissa. "Are you through with me?"

"I wish." She finished bandaging the wound. "But that should hold you." She gave him three Tylenol. "You're not having enough pain for anything stronger."

"Oh, I'm having enough pain."

He wasn't talking about physical pain, she realized. She smothered the ripple of sympathy. "If your head's messed up, it's not because of that flesh wound."

He swallowed the Tylenol and said to Galen, "He knew we were coming and he knew about the delivery. He was either Karlstadt's man or someone else who had access to the information. He said Jan had been helpful. Jan found two bugs in his apartment last week. I thought maybe CIA, but…" He shook his head. "He could have been a rogue agent, but that doesn't smell right. I have to think about it. Just get us out of here."

"Paris?"

Travis shrugged. "Why not?"

"Right." Galen rose to his feet and took out his phone. He hesitated. "I really am sorry. I know he was like family to you." He strode out of the house.

Melissa barely heard those last words. "Paris? Why Paris?"

"You know why," Travis said wearily. "I made a promise and I want to get it over and done with."

She closed her eyes. "Shit."

"I agree with you." He put on his shirt. "I know you hoped I might be thrown off course by Jan's-" He stopped. "Death."

It hurt him to say the word. She could feel his raw pain. She wouldn't feel it, dammit. Her eyes opened and she glared at him. "I can't help it if your friend died. He must have been crazy or he'd never have thrown his lot in with you. You should have learned your lesson, but you haven't. You're going forward blindly, not caring who you hurt."