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and streaming in rivulets down the windshield looked white-blue in the artificial glare of the headlights. The wipers could barely keep up. Ahead of them, the narrow road was a winding, slick ribbon of night. The hills around them were shapeless black bulk.
    Eyes intent on the muddy road ahead, Taylor was glad Will had elected to drive. He"d rarely seen worse weather conditions outside of Japan. “God almighty.
    What is with this rain? It"s summer.”
    The car lagged as Will shifted into a lower gear. “We"re in the mountains. And July is the rainy season.”
    “Great. On the upside, they can"t be making much better time than we are.”
    Will, his attention on the winding road ahead, grunted.
    Taylor glanced at the dashboard: 3:18. It was beginning to feel like the longest night in his life. He refocused on the screen of his BlackBerry GPS—essentially useless at the moment thanks to the lack of steady signal. Happily he could still read a map, and the BlackBerry was at least serving as a light for his navigating.
    “Sierra Blanca Regional Airport is northwest of here. It looks like it"s just over an hour.”
    “Okay. What am I looking for?”
    “West Smokey Bear Boulevard.” He looked up from the map to stare at the nightmare landscape swinging past as Will sped along the canyon road. “Jesus, I believe it. It"s like the Black Forest through here.”
    “City boy.”

    Dangerous Ground 3: Blood Heat

    37

    Taylor acknowledged it without resentment. “You know, no way is Nemov going to try and drag her on a plane. He can"t depend on us not going for help.”
    Will threw him a somber look. “No?”
    “Okay. Maybe he can. But I still don"t think he"s going to make for the airport.
    Not the local airport anyway. I think he"ll go for one of the larger, busier airports.
    Somewhere he"s guaranteed a direct flight to Los Angeles.”
    Will mulled it over. “Agreed.”
    “So…Albuquerque? He"s going to travel back roads for as long as possible. At least till he"s sure he"s lost us.”
    “ If he"s taking her to LA. He could have been lying about that. Maybe he"ll take her back to Denver.”
    “True.” Taylor hadn"t considered that possibility and wasn"t any happier for having it pointed out.
    Will"s jaw clenched still tighter, but he didn"t respond. Watching him, Taylor said, “Listen…if this all goes south—or further south—I"ll take full responsibility.”
    “Why would you?”
    “Snatching her from Ramirez was my call, and it was a bad call. We should have sent for backup the minute we located her. You would have if you"d been on your own. I fucked up.”
    “You didn"t hold a gun to my head. We both fucked up. Now we"ve got to fix it.
    Fast.”
    “Right. I just…want you to know that whatever happens, I won"t let it mess up your promotion.”
    Will looked away from the road long enough to offer a disbelieving face. “Not this again. I already told you—”
    “That you"re not sure you"ll accept the Paris tour. I know.”
    “I haven"t decided anything.”

    38
    Josh Lanyon

    Taylor nodded. Realizing Will probably couldn"t see that gesture, he said again, “I know.”
    “Really? Because every time this comes up, you make it sound like a foregone conclusion that I"m going.”
    “No.”
    “I haven’t made my mind up either way.”
    “Yeah. Well…”
    “Well what?”
    He couldn"t tell him, but that was part of what hurt: the fact that Will was seriously weighing taking this overseas assignment.
    “It"s just…ironic. I guess. We knew one of us would get marching orders, but—”
    “We thought it would be you.”
    “Yeah.”
    Taylor was the senior agent and due for promotion, and he"d been back in the States longer than Will. Four years now. But in June, Will had been part of a protection detail for the French president"s wife during her stay in Southern California. Apparently he"d made such a favorable impression that a request had come through the highest channels that he be invited to fill a