We enter the stairwell and head to the third floor where there is a bridge to the parking structure. Lacey will drive me back to where I left my dogs while Veronica returns to my mother. The police fell for the decoy and are no longer hunting for me on hospital grounds.
As we pass the first floor, the door bangs open and a single man enters. Spotting us, he pulls up short, his eyes bouncing between us, not seeming to know where to land.
He is young, with wispy blond hair and a pale mustache that is desperately trying to come in. Contempt blooms in his eyes, and I recognize him. This guy must be related to Dennis, the Incel idiot. They have the same eyes, same hair…same hate-filled gaze.
“After you,” he says, gesturing for us to go first up the stairs.
“No,” Veronica says before I can. “Please, after you. We move slowly and would not want to delay you.”
He hesitates for only a moment but then starts up the stairs. Veronica and I look at each other and an understanding passes between us. We follow him, Lacey pausing at the third floor for only a moment before continuing after us.
Veronica pulls her phone from her pocket and glances down at it then passes it to me. It’s a text from my mother. “Mulberry called my room. He is here. I didn’t tell him where to find you. He said he would wait in the parking garage.” She gave a parking spot number. A controlling, traditional man.
Dan must have sent him when he saw my alias pop up in the hospital’s computer system. He’d be monitoring the area, keeping watch over me, especially when I didn’t check in.
Dennis’s relation exits at my mother’s floor. Veronica follows him through the door, signaling to me with a small wave that I should not. I wait in the stairs with Lacey, holding Veronica’s phone and vibrating with the need to follow, yet knowing that I would only be a hindrance. Veronica can handle that pipsqueak.
But what if there are more of them?
Veronica did not ask for my help. She wants me to stay here.
“I think we should go,” Lacey says. “Veronica has everything under control, I’m sure.”
“I’d like to make sure April makes it out okay.”
“Veronica can handle it.”
She’s probably right. And Mom did try to sacrifice herself to save me last time we had trouble…
I turn to Lacey. “Come on.” I hurry back down the steps, and we cross into the parking lot, but instead of following Lacey to her car, I start toward the parking spot where Mulberry is apparently waiting. Time to bend a controlling, traditional man to my will.
Chapter Nineteen
Robert
Declan Doyle eyes me with overt suspicion as we settle into the booth. It’s off hours, and we are the only people in the dining room—the large windows look out on the upper floors of other Washington buildings, and the dark wood and leather decor reflects the wealth of those who live in the residences here.
We order our drinks from the tuxedoed waiter, and he brings a bread basket along with an assortment of cheeses—“compliments of the chef”—before Declan asks why I’ve invited him to join me at my apartment building’s private restaurant.
“I have some information that I think will be of interest to you.”
He shakes his head, a disbelieving smile twisting this lips. “You want to share intelligence with me? Out of the goodness of your heart?” He says it as though I’m a cat who’s asked a mouse to perform a teeth cleaning. But Declan Doyle is no mouse, which is why I tried to hire him years ago. His integrity and trust fund kept him in public service.
“I’ve changed,” I say with a shrug. “Become more community-minded.”
Declan laughs at that one. “Sure you have.”
“There is a cabal of criminal organizations plotting to destroy Joyful Justice, and I need your help to save them.”
His grin fades. I take a sip of my manhattan and grimace. Too sweet.
“Why would I help save Joyful Justice?” Declan’s tone is sober—no longer amused by or assured of my insincerity.
“It’s a wide-ranging plot that involves the Incels and Her prophet fanatics. That’s why I thought it’d be of interest to you.”
His brows raise. Is he surprised I know what he is working on? “I’m listening.”
I outline Amy’s plan to foment a massacre, leaving out her and Josh’s names and thus the true identity of the organization plotting against Joyful Justice. As I talk, Declan’s expression stays neutral and his drink untouched. “How do you know all this?” he asks when I finish.
“How I know it is not important. That I’m right is what you need to be paying attention to. Is there something wrong with your drink? Mine is sweet.”
I gesture to the waiter, who waits on the far side of the room, well out of listening distance. He approaches. “This manhattan has too much sweet vermouth. I said a perfect manhattan. That means half sweet and half dry vermouth. I’d expect you to know that.”
The waiter nods respectfully, mumbling an apology, before taking the drink away with a promise to bring a new one.
Declan waits for the man to be out of earshot before speaking. “Why should I believe you?”
“All of this will come to pass, and then you can follow the bread crumbs to the truth. Perhaps my warning will help lead the way. Personally”—I shrug—“I think it would be nice if we could stop the mass shooting from happening. Seems like Miami doesn’t need another tragedy at the moment.” I eye the cheese plate but decide against it.
The waiter returns with my drink before Declan can respond. I taste it, the smooth whiskey and aromatic dry vermouth perfectly tempered by just a hint of sweetness. I nod my approval, and the waiter leaves us again.
Declan sits forward, his drink sweating onto the table. “Is this the same group who was trying to kill Sydney?”
I raise a brow. “You heard about that?”
“She came to see me.”
I know. Then she went to see her mother. And is currently in the basement of a hospital, failing to see her way out. But she will survive. She always does. “Sydney paid you a visit, how nice.”
“She seemed eager to find the people who are after her.” Declan is baiting me, trying to see if I’ve told Sydney what I know.
“Fascinating,” I say, sounding bored. Declan frowns. “Do you think you can help avoid this catastrophe, or should I call someone else?”
Declan climbs out of the booth, never having tasted his drink. “Call someone else,” he says. “I’m not your man, Maxim.”
I let him walk away. He will look into it. Giving Declan a piece of information is like waving a fox scent under a hound’s nose—he can’t help but chase it down.
Back in my apartment, I call Amy. “It’s done,” I tell her. “But I don’t think he believed me.”
“That’s fine. We are just planting the seed.”
“When can I meet Natalia?”
“She is off the coast of Miami, waiting for you on her ship, The Escape Plan. Her helicopter can pick you up.”
“I can be back in Miami by this evening. I’ll call once I have my arrival time.”
“Good luck, Robert.”
It’s not luck that’s allowed me to survive this long. It’s always having an escape plan.
Chapter Twenty
Mulberry
“I need you to go get my dogs.” Sydney is breathless and distracted, as if my presence is expected but not totally welcome.
“What?” I look up and down her body, at the strange full length robe, the swirling bruises and scratches on her neck and face. A darkening shiner circles her left eye.
“I was forced to leave them at the parking garage where my mother spoke last night. Please, go now. Blue will come to you.”
“Let’s go together.” She looks back at the hospital and the woman waiting behind her. “Who is that?” I ask, dropping my voice.
“Look, we just saw an Incel member headed toward my mom’s room. Her security, Veronica, went after him but I need to hel
p.” A pained expression passes over her features. Is it physical or emotional? “I can’t just leave her.”
“What can you do?” I ask. “The police will see you and arrest you. How does that help your mom?”
The strange woman approaches, her long robe brushing just above the pavement. “Veronica can take care of your mother, do not worry.” She is small and round, with strong conviction in her voice.
Sydney turns to her. “Lacey—”
“He’s right,” Lacey says, pointing to me. I like her more every minute. “You’re a distraction for the police. Go with him.” She raises her brows. “He can keep you safe.”
Sydney shakes her head. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe.”
Lacey grins and it’s radiant, changing her from a dowdy, odd little woman into someone glowing with warmth and power. “This is not bending; this is being smart.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sydney tells me. “Lacey, I appreciate your help but—”
Lacey puts a hand on Sydney’s arm and squeezes. “Go,” she whispers. “Go now.” Then she turns and walks away, her long robe making it look almost like she’s floating.
“Let’s get Blue,” I go for Sydney’s weak spot. “And Nila and Frank.” She sighs, still watching Lacey. “Imagine the trouble that idiot is getting himself into as we speak.”
Sydney turns to me and frowns. “Hold on a minute.” She runs a few steps to catch up with Lacey, and they talk in low tones. I clench my fists to keep from going over there and throwing her over my shoulder. We need to get out of here. Sydney jogs back to me and relief eases the tension in my shoulders. See, I can do this. “Let’s go,” she says.
Sydney uses my phone to direct me to the venue her mother spoke at the night before. It’s a big place that must seat at least a few thousand people. The parking structure is four stories, and Sydney has me drive slowly up to the top, her head out the window, calling Blue’s name. He does not respond.
When we reach the roof and pull out under the night sky, it’s clear the dogs are no longer here. Worry lines crease Sydney’s forehead. The dark blue of the dress reflects in her eyes, turning them the color of the deepest parts of the Atlantic. “Where to next?” I ask, remembering Merl’s sage advice to follow her rather than try to lead.
She focuses on my phone, zooming in on the map. “Looks like there is an alleyway with dumpsters the next building over.” She holds the phone out to me. “I think it’s behind a steak place.” I nod, seeing the narrow passage on the satellite image.
I smile. “Blue and his pups have been dining on fine steak while you’ve been recuperating in the hospital. How like him.”
Sydney offers a pained smile but no laugh. I clear my throat as I turn us around and start driving back down to the ground level. “So…you were in a car accident. What happened?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Let’s talk after we find Blue.”
I nod. See, following her lead. Not exploding with frustration and demanding to know what in the eff happened to her. “But the baby?” I say, because I can’t help myself.
“It’s okay.” Her voice is low, almost a whisper.
A tightness eases in my chest. I can wait until she’s ready to give me the rest of the information.
When we reach the mouth of the alley, Sydney hops out of the rented SUV, her long robe swishing behind her as she starts down it, calling Blue’s name.
I follow, leaving the car idling.
Blue leaps out from behind a dumpster and barrels down the alley, smashing into Sydney so hard she has to take a step back. She bends over, curling around Blue, whose whole body is wagging with excitement as soft whines escape him.
Frank is next, his tongue flopping out of his mouth, his aim off as he hits me in the bad leg and I lose my balance. Sydney catches me, her reflexes lightning-fast as she grabs my arm, giving me the support I need to recover my footing.
Nila trots up to us, what looks like a porterhouse bone in her mouth. They totally were eating high-end steak. I let out a snort-laugh and bend down to pet Frank, whose enthusiasm is likely to bowl me over again if I don’t reciprocate.
Tears gleam in Sydney’s eyes as she hugs Blue and reaches out a hand to pet Nila, who sighs in appreciation—but doesn’t let go of the bone.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”
Sydney nods and stands, wavering a little. It’s my turn to steady her. “You okay?” She nods, but her face is pale. “Let’s get going,” I say again. She doesn’t argue as I help her back into the SUV. Blue jumps up into her seat well, and the other dogs go in the back. “Where were you staying?” I ask.
“I didn’t have a hotel yet. Came straight here. My rental is back at the venue. I’ve got my bag and food for the dogs.”
I turn toward the venue. “I like this look,” I tease. “Very fortune teller.”
Sydney smiles, her eyes closed and head leaning back against the head rest. “That woman, Lacey, she said she saw you in the cards.”
“What cards?”
“Tarot cards.” Sydney says it like it’s obvious. “Said that a controlling and traditional man waited for me.”
“I’m not controlling,” I say, injecting innocence into my voice.
She laughs but doesn’t open her eyes. “Yeah, me either.”
We both laugh at that. “I’m sure you’re not the only woman with a controlling, traditional man in her life. That’s how fortune tellers do it, you know—talk in vague terms that apply to almost everyone.”
“I don’t think our lives are like everyone else’s.”
I shrug. “Not in the practical ways, but we’re still human, Sydney. We are driven by the same things as regular folk.” I glance over to see her smiling, eyes still closed.
We stop at her rental, parked on a street near the venue, and she grabs her bag out of the back, along with a gallon of water and a bag of dog food. The dogs are thirsty but not interested in kibble—because they’ve been enjoying finer fare for the past twenty-four hours.
“Come on,” I say as she packs up the dog bowls. “Let’s get going. We can stop for food on the road. I’ll call about taking care of your rental.”
Sydney nods and gets back in the passenger seat, not bothering to change her clothing. She stares out the window as I get us on the highway headed east. As the wheels hum over the pavement, Sydney’s breathing grows deeper and I stay quiet, letting her sleep.
My hunger gets the best of me two hours later, and I pull off the highway. Sydney wakes with a jolt as I get in line at a drive-thru fast food place. “It’s okay,” I tell her, placing a steadying hand on her thigh.
“Where are we going?”
“As far away from the scene of the crime as we can get. We have a council meeting this evening. I figured we’d find a hotel in a few hours and set up.”
Sydney glances down at my phone and, reading a text there, smiles. “Mom is safe. That guy didn’t try anything. I guess the police presence and Veronica scared him off.”
“That’s great.”
“I should go to Miami, check on Robert’s house. On Hugh and Santiago as well,” she says.
“We’re headed east, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
She glances over at me and narrows her eyes. “You’re being awfully solicitous.”
We pull up in front of the speaker, and a crackling voice offers to take our order. I get myself a burger and fries, Sydney has the same plus a milkshake.
We park and Sydney offers the dogs kibble again. This time they eat it. We stand in a small patch of grass, letting them do their business.
My hand reaches out for hers, and she lets me take it. “I had an ultrasound,” Sydney says, giving my fingers a squeeze.
I keep my eyes on the sky, watching the stars trying to twinkle through the light pollution, giving her space to tell me in her own time. “It’s just a tiny thing. Like the size of a lima bean.” There is a
smile in her voice, and I can’t resist turning to see it. Her eyes are unfocused as she watches the sky. “A little dancing bean.”
“A little dancing bean,” I echo back, wanting to feel the words in my mouth.
Her eyes come to me, and she nods. I tug on her hand, and she lets me wrap my other arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry I pushed you,” I say. She nods against my chest but doesn’t speak. “Merl said—”
“You told Merl?” she says, pulling away.
Damn. “Yes, should I not have?”
“I just—I guess. It’s fine.”
But she doesn’t step close to me again. I’m still holding her hand as I go on, but she’s looking at the dogs now…drifting away from me. “He said that he’d help keep you safe. I mean, all of them.” I’m butchering this. I take a deep breath before continuing. “We have friends, Sydney. People who care and will help keep us safe.”
She nods but doesn’t respond.
Anger pushes at me. Make her listen.
But I shove back. She will do the right thing.
We return to the SUV and merge onto the highway. Sydney flicks through the radio stations. “According to the shooter’s manifesto, Joyful Justice inspired her and even purchased the weapon.” Sydney’s hand stills on the dial. “Two victims are in critical condition, seven more stabilized, and ten deceased. We will bring you more on this story as it become available.”
“What the hell?” Sydney grabs my phone and starts searching. “A mass shooting in one of the Miami refugee centers—a sports arena.” She reads for a moment. “A female shooter. Says she was raped and that everyone there let it happen. So she went to Joyful Justice and they gave her an AK-47…” Sydney shakes her head. “No way.”
“Definitely not,” I agree. She looks over at me. “Merl caught me up. Besides, we both know that’s not how we operate. We don’t hand over weapons of war without training and certainly not to people so recently traumatized.”
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