I glare at it. ‘Stop watching me, and get your ass in here.’
I wait ten seconds. Twenty. Forty.
The door opens.
I frown. ‘Who the hell are you?’
The woman has cropped platinum-blonde hair and a whole lot of dark eye make-up. She’s petite, dressed in cut-off jeans and a blue plaid shirt over a grey tee. She’s strikingly pretty, but that’s not the thing I’m staring at most. Black against her pale skin tone, rising from beneath the neckline of her tee, up the side of her throat, and coiling its tail around her right ear, is a tattoo of a snake. ‘I’m your guardian angel.’
‘Yeah right, because they’re real well known for being into bondage.’
‘I’m here to look after you.’
‘And I’m the head of the FBI. Where’s North?’
She doesn’t respond to my jibe. ‘He’s sleeping. You should be too.’
‘That’s kind of hard when I’m tied down.’
‘It was for your own protection. You were disorientated and unstable when you arrived, I didn’t want you trying to walk unaided and falling.’
I stare at her, not sure if I believe what she’s selling. ‘Forgive me if I’m a little sceptical. I’ve already been abducted and held hostage once this week; I’m not in the mood for it to be happening again. Tell me why I’m here.’
She signs. ‘Look, North will be awake soon. Then you can ask him.’
I’m not waiting a moment longer. ‘If I’m not a prisoner, untie me. Believe me, you don’t want to get me pissed.’
‘Alright, fine.’ She steps closer to the gurney and pulls back the blanket. ‘Just hold still, yeah, and don’t get any stupid ideas.’
Stupid ideas are relative, but I nod anyways. She’s not carrying a weapon and she’s got to be a good few pounds lighter than me and about a foot shorter. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to take her out if it comes to hand-to-hand combat.
She pulls the blanket back and I see there are four leather straps tying me to the gurney. Slowly, keeping eye contact with me as she does it, she unbuckles each of the straps. As she’s removing the final one from around my ankles, I yank out the IV line and hurl myself off the gurney. But my legs are weaker than I’d reckoned on and I stumble as I land.
‘Lori, stop.’
I refuse to be kept captive a moment longer. Ignoring her, I sprint for the door.
She blocks my path but I don’t stop. Hunkering down like a football player, I brace myself ready for impact.
Next moment I’m knocked off my feet. She pulls some kind of martial arts move, flipping me backwards and sending me slamming down onto the hardwood floor. I yell from the pain as my bad arm hits the ground. The noise is cut short as the impact knocks the air from my lungs. My head pounds, my vision is blurring, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
She’s looking down at me. ‘You done?’
I cuss under my breath. I have no idea how she just handed me my ass. ‘What are you, some kind of ninja?’
‘Something like that.’ She gives me a half-smile and holds out her hand. ‘You ready to get back on the gurney?’
I don’t want a replay, so I take her hand and let her help me up. I move across to the gurney and push myself onto it, legs dangling over the edge. I use my right hand to support my injured arm. The pain’s real bad.
She shakes her head. ‘You went and bust your stitches.’
Looking at my arm, I see there’s a red stain spreading across the white bandage around my upper arm. I glance back at her. ‘I think you kind of did that.’
‘Maybe.’ She fixes me with a hard stare. ‘But you started it. Stay here. And don’t try anything stupid.’
‘No promises.’
She gives a small shake of her head and turns back to the door.
I stay sitting on the gurney as she leaves the room. The door clicks locked behind her, and I figure it must have an automatic-locking mechanism.
I wonder again where the hell I am. My watch has been taken off me, and I have no idea of the time. Suddenly it seems my world has shrunk down to this small, windowless room, and I sure don’t like the way it feels.
I’m not left alone for long. She returns after a few minutes with a metal kidney dish containing purple-hued liquid and a tray of medical equipment. ‘Lie down. I need you to be still for this.’
I stay sitting. Look at her real suspicious. ‘Why should I trust you?’
She looks at me with a no-bullshit expression on her face. ‘Because right now, Lori, I’m all you and North got.’
It’s a fair point. I lie back onto the gurney. ‘So where is he?’
‘I told you before, he’s sleeping.’
I shake my head even though it’s hurting like a bitch. ‘You’re not one for conversation are you?’
‘I’m going to need to concentrate.’ She starts unwrapping the bandage from around my arm. ‘I need you quiet and I need you to lie still. If you can’t do that I’ll have to knock you out.’
‘Okay.’ I stay still, watching as she finishes unwrapping the bandage and inspects the gunshot wound. Like she thought, the stitches are busted.
Picking up a syringe of clear liquid from the surgical tray, she sticks the needle into my arm and depresses the plunger. Within a few seconds the pain begins to subside.
She cleans off the blood with the purple-coloured liquid in the kidney dish then looks at me sternly. ‘Hold still.’
‘Yup.’
I watch as she stitches me up. Her brow is creased in concentration, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips a fraction, just like Dakota’s does when she’s concentrating hard. Dakota, my baby girl; I hope that JT has gotten her away from my apartment and safely to Red’s boat.
‘There you go.’
Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts of Dakota and JT. I look at her handiwork – a line of neat, evenly spaced sutures. ‘Nice job. So you’re a ninja and a nurse?’
‘I’m a physician actually.’
I gesture to her tattoo with my good arm. ‘I’ve not seen so many docs inked like you before.’
‘Maybe you didn’t look close enough.’
‘Could be.’ I keep my tone friendly. Need to find out as much as I can about my situation so I can figure out how to get free. ‘So how do you know North?’
‘We’ve been friends a while.’
From the flush that blooms across her cheeks and neck as she says the word ‘friends’, I’m guessing that they’re a little more than that. ‘Is that why you’re helping me?’
‘I’m helping him. He says you’re part of the deal.’
Maybe I can trust North after all. ‘You got a name?’
She holds my gaze. Deciding whether to give up her name I guess. ‘You can call me Carly.’
‘Okay, Carly. So what happens next?’
She takes a second syringe from the tray and injects it into my arm. ‘Now, Lori Anderson, wanted fugitive, you’re going right back to sleep.’
32
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21st, 14:03
The living area inside the houseboat is far roomier than JT would’ve guessed. Red’s set up a space for him and Dakota to stash their things and pulled down the twin bunks for them to use. Dakota called the top bunk as hers. JT wasn’t going to argue.
They eat lunch on deck – roast chicken and bacon subs from plates balanced on their knees. The sound track is an occasional splash as a fish breaks the surface. He smiles as Dakota quizzes Red about the boat and the marina, but his attention remains focused on the jetty and the parking lot way beyond. This isn’t a holiday; it’s a hideout. He can’t afford to let his guard down.
Dakota finishes her sub, puts the plate on the deck and takes a sip of iced tea. Tilts her head to the side. ‘What’s the name of your boat, Mr Red?’
‘What is this, an interrogation?’ Red says, but he’s smiling. ‘Her name is Liberty.’
Dakota nods thoughtfully. ‘Like the bell?’
‘Indeed.’
A loud revving a ways behind them draws JT’s attention. Turning, he scans the lines of boats bobbing at their moorings, trying to work out the source. He hears shouting, but can’t make out the words. The revving gets louder, sounds like more than one engine.
He tenses his shoulders, adrenaline coursing through him. Ready to act.
‘Look,’ Dakota laughs, pointing a little to the left of where he’s looking. ‘That looks fun.’
Two jet skis race out from behind the line of boats towards the exit of the marina. Two girls in bikinis are driving, two young guys in board shorts are riding pillion. They’re laughing and shrieking as they race, the boys yelling trash talk at each other.
Red shakes his head but he’s smiling. ‘They shouldn’t be going that fast until they’re out on the ocean.’ Looks at JT. ‘The fun of the young, huh?’
JT nods. Then exhales and rolls his shoulders, trying to release the tension. It’s just kids. Not a threat.
‘Do you have any jet skis, Mr Red?’ Dakota asks.
Red shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry, that I don’t.’
‘Maybe we can go fishing?’
‘Maybe.’ Red nods, but he isn’t looking at Dakota now, his stare is fixed back along the jetty, towards the parking lot.
‘Things okay?’ JT asks.
‘Not rightly sure.’
JT follows his gaze. There’s a brown sedan in the parking lot that wasn’t there a moment ago. The doors open and four big guys jump out. Red’s jaw tightens. ‘Goddammit. We need to move.’
The men are looking their way.
Red’s sprinting to the helm before JT can ask if the boat’s seaworthy.
Leaping up, JT gestures at Dakota to go into the cabin. ‘Go inside, honey. Find a life preserver and put it on. Stay away from the windows.’
She stays put. Her lower lip’s trembling. ‘Why? What’s happening? Is it—’
He glances back towards the lot. The men are running down the first walkway, heads moving side to side, looking from boat to boat, searching. JT knows exactly what they’re looking for, and he’ll be damned if they’ll get it. He puts his hand on Dakota’s shoulder and pushes her towards the cabin. ‘We’ll talk later.’
Her eyes fill with tears, but she does as she’s told.
He hears the boat’s engine tick over. The heavies are at the cross walk, turning onto their jetty.
‘Cast us off,’ Red yells from the helm. ‘Now.’
JT hurries to the ropes tethering the boat to the mooring. Yanking them undone, he pulls the coils back onto the deck. ‘Clear.’
The men are fifty yards away and closing.
Red opens up the throttle and the engines fire thunder loud. The boat’s faster than JT expects, and as Red accelerates them away, he’s knocked off his feet and onto his ass on the deck.
He braces himself for the gunfire that’s inevitable.
But it doesn’t come.
Twisting round, JT looks back at the shore, searching to see what’s happened. On the end of the jetty four heavies are standing with guns in their hands, but not firing.
JT doesn’t get why not.
33
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21st, 17:46
I wake with a jolt to find North standing over me. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Checking to see how you’re doing.’
‘Yeah, right.’ I push myself up. My head’s stopped pounding and the pain in my arm isn’t so bad.
‘You’re looking better.’
‘Than what?’ I don’t hide the anger in my voice. ‘Being out cold? Drugged?’
He shakes his head. ‘You gave me a scare, Lori. You collapsed. I didn’t even know you’d been shot.’
I look around. There’s no sign of Carly. ‘You not knowing was kind of the point.’
He looks at me, his expression serious. ‘No secrets from here on out.’
‘Good luck with that.’ There are always secrets. I’m not some naïve kid that a man can persuade otherwise. I swing my legs over the side of the gurney. ‘So why are you pulling this shit and keeping me prisoner?’
‘You’re not a prisoner. I just needed to be sure you’d be fit enough for what happens next.’
‘How nice that you’re so concerned about my welfare,’ I say, sarcasm thick in my tone. ‘I thought you were the one with the fitness problem.’
‘Carly got me some meds. I’m doing fine.’
Now he mentions it I realise that he’s right; he does seem a whole lot better. His skin has lost the pale, waxy sheen, and the look of permanent exhaustion is gone.
‘And I’m more than capable of travelling to Miami,’ I say.
North shakes his head. ‘That’s not what happens next.’
‘It sure is. We agreed. I told Luciano we’re—’
‘No. There’s something we have to do first.’
I narrow my gaze. ‘What’s that?’
‘Come and get something to eat and I’ll tell you.’
I feel anxiety fizzing in my belly. I want to get on the road. I need to be doing something. And I’m not real happy about the change in dynamic between North and me. But, given the situation, I figure it’s best to go along easy for now, get the layout of this place, then decide what my next move should be.
North’s acting like we’re on the same team, but I can’t help thinking that for him hotfooting it away from here would be preferable to heading back into the mobsters’ den with me. Nevertheless, I remove the cannula from my hand again, hop down from the gurney and follow him from the room. I’ll check out my exits, and hear him out. Then I’ll decide.
We’re not in a medical facility. The room I was in is at the far end of a mezzanine level. The lower level is a large, achingly stylish, minimalist living space that stretches out towards a floor-to-ceiling wall of glass. Through this window I see the city of Tallahassee spreading below us into the distance. We’re high, ten floors up at least. And there’s no sign of a fire escape. Damn. That means there’s only one way in and out of this apartment.
As we walk past the open door to the other room on the mezzanine, I see it’s a huge bedroom rather than another clinical area. It contains a bed with jewel-coloured linen and a bunch of cushions. There are two doors off the bedroom – I assume they’re a bathroom and a walk-in closet. Either that, or this place is a crash pad rather than a home.
As I follow North down the stairs, the smell of spices and herbs wafts up to greet us. Though I’m anxious to get back on the road, my stomach rumbles. I’ve no idea of the time, but the sun’s position low over the city skyline suggests it must be late in the day, heading towards dusk. I haven’t eaten since the sausage biscuit at the rest-stop motel. That could have been this morning or even yesterday; whenever it was, it feels like a lifetime ago.
Recessed into the space below the mezzanine is a sleek steel kitchen, kitted out like a professional chef’s. ‘Is Carly making food?’ I ask North.
He shakes his head. ‘I am.’
I raise an eyebrow.
‘Sit.’ He gestures towards the island unit. It’s laid for dinner; three placements. ‘I like to cook. It relaxes me. Helps me think.’
‘Okay.’ I hop up onto one of the stools at the island unit. ‘What is this place?’
‘It’s kind of like a safe house. I pay Carly a retainer to keep a bunch of stuff here for me and to give me assistance if I come out this way to do a job.’
‘She works for the Old Man?’
North shakes his head. ‘She’s independent. No mob ties.’
I cock my head to one side. For a moment my vision blurs. I blink, waiting for it to clear. ‘So she’s a gun for hire?’
‘Not really; more like a private contractor. She’s picky about who she’ll partner up with. Those she does pay a premium for the privilege.’
I frown. ‘If you had her on speed dial why didn’t you just ditch me and run as soon as I passed out?’
‘Not my style. You didn’t pull the trigger whe
n Luciano told you to, even though not doing so put your family at risk. I owe you for that. And we’re both being chased by the same people. I figure there’s strength in numbers.’
I stare at him. Wonder if he’s talking truth or bullshit. ‘So what I’m thinking is we need to get back to Miami.’
North turns to the stove and gives one of the simmering pans a stir. He shakes his head. ‘There’s no point. Like I said, the Old Man is away on his annual pilgrimage. His schedule is always the same. He won’t be back at the compound until Sunday evening and we don’t want to get there before he’s back, I don’t trust Luciano not to shoot us on sight.’
I hear a door open and close upstairs, and a moment later Carly comes down into the kitchen area. She nods at me, kisses North, then goes to the large fridge and takes out a bottle of wine. She glances at me. ‘How’s the arm?’
‘Better.’
She pours the wine into our glasses. As she steps back to the fridge I turn to North again. ‘So, what? You’re saying we should hide out here for two days?’ I think of JT and Dakota, of the threat they’re under for as long as I don’t take North back to the Old Man and Luciano. ‘I can’t wait that long. I need to—’
‘I know what you need, Lori, and you won’t get it from Luciano. Whatever deal you think you’ve made, I know how he operates, how he thinks. Even if the Old Man lets you go, Luciano will never allow the fact that you killed Tommy to go unpunished. You’ll never be free, and neither will your family.’
His words hit me hard. Blinking, I pick up my wine glass and take a mouthful to disguise the emotion I’m feeling. The wine’s good – dry and fresh, and goes down easy. As I drink I scan the room for the exit. At the far end there’s a large door reinforced on the inside with highly polished steel and a keypad. Damn. I’m guessing getting out of this place will be a whole lot more complicated than just turning a key.
I figure I should hear North out. ‘So what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that I’ve got another way to make this right, but I need to be able to trust you.’
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