by Kim Harrison
“Go with him,” Allen said brusquely. “If by some miracle you find her, call me and keep your distance. I don’t want to lose her again.”
Fran huffed. “I haven’t lost her.”
The man hustled to the car and got in. Slowly the car accelerated, and it was gone. Grimacing, Allen hobbled to the plane. Fran was right behind him. Peri was betting they both had weapons or they wouldn’t have sent their people away. Fewer people meant fewer witnesses.
“Taf, give me your rifle,” Peri whispered, her hand extended behind her. Howard made a small noise, and she turned, eyes widening when she saw that Taf was gone. “Where’s Taf?”
Finger shaking, Howard pointed across the hangar. Peri’s face went cold as she followed his gaze. “Oh no . . . ,” she whispered. Taf’s slim form was slipping along the wall.
Howard edged closer, beads faintly clinking. “I couldn’t stop her,” he whispered. “She’s going to distract them for you so you can get Silas out of the plane.”
Damn it all to hell. Peri’s gut clenched when Taf boldly stepped out into the light, boots clunking. Fran spun and Allen froze, their backs to the plane. “Hey, Mom,” Taf said, her feet spread wide and her stance confident as she hit the southern drawl hard.
“Mom?” Allen questioned, and Peri crept closer.
“This is my daughter,” Fran said drily, not scared nearly enough by her crazy-ass daughter holding a rifle. “She’s not supposed to be here.”
“Things change,” Taf said. “I can tell you what your stooges will find. Want some spoilers?” she mocked.
Fran punched buttons on her phone. Taf’s pocket began to hum and the older woman became livid with anger. Allen laughed.
“What did you do?” Fran exclaimed, stalking forward until Taf cocked the rifle.
My God, is she going to shoot her mom? Peri thought, remembering the temptation once or twice herself.
“I’m fixing to stop wasting your time and my life,” Taf said, as satisfied as her mother was angry, but she’d drawn them far enough from the plane, and Peri gave Howard a look to stay before slinking forward. She crept up the stairs, trying not to shift the plane’s weight as she eased aboard. Relief was a surprising wash through her when she found Silas bound and gagged in a seat. Finger to her lips, she smiled at his glare. His eyes were angry but clear. New bruises and scrapes showed they’d beaten him, but he wasn’t drugged.
Hunched under the low ceiling, Peri held up two fingers, eyebrows high in question. He shook his head, nodding when she held up one. One man, she thought, following his glance to the cockpit. Shouldn’t be difficult. Peri slowly drew out the bottle of wine chilling in the ice bucket. Rosé? Really? Allen had no sense of style.
The shifting ice caught the pilot’s attention, and he shoved his man-on-man magazine out of sight. “Should I tell the tower we’re staying?” he said, so frantic to hide his magazine that he didn’t even notice she wasn’t Allen until their eyes met. Almost sorry for the guy, she smacked him with the cold, wet bottle, wincing at the reverberation shaking up her arm.
“Never hide who you are,” Peri said as she backed out. Five minutes. He’d be up and bitching in five. She hadn’t hit him that hard.
Peri dropped the bottle back in the slush, hands cold but feeling cocky in the relief of doing what she was good at. Hunched from the low ceiling, she returned to Silas. He was waiting impatiently, bound hands held up before him. Still smiling, she knelt before him and pulled the gag away. “Hi,” she said as she started on the knots. “Can you move fast?”
“What are you doing here?” he whispered, and she glanced up, fingers faltering on the rope. “Wearing that? Are you crazy?”
“Ah, it’s called rescuing your ass in style?” Peri said, flushing as she saw that her skintight white jeans were now smeared with grease and dirt. “I’m a soldier, remember? I don’t leave anyone behind.”
His expression went empty, then resolute. Fran’s angry “You did what!” echoed. Flustered, Peri gave up on his hands and moved to his feet. He didn’t need his hands to run.
“Peri is long gone,” she could hear Taf saying, and Peri began to sweat, fingers fumbling. “I gave her a car and she’s reached the mountains by now. Good luck with that.”
The knots weren’t budging. Probably because he’d been trying to get free and had instead tightened them into immovable chunks. “There’s a red truck out the back of the building. Keys in the ignition,” Peri said as she puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Good Lord, what did you do to these knots?” Amateurs.
Silas winced. “Ah, check the bathroom. One of them was using a knife to trim his nails.”
“Thanks for sharing.” Peri got up. The thing was eight inches long, and she decided to keep it despite the gauche camo pattern on the hilt. In three seconds, he was free; in four, she was sliding the knife away, almost shivering at the sound as it slipped into her boot sheath.
“Find her!” Allen shouted, and she joined Silas at the window to see Allen on the phone. So far, Taf’s was the only gun showing, and Peri prayed it would stay that way. Clearly pissed, Allen ended his call. “Your daughter ran them off the road,” he said tightly. “Where is Peri headed? Detroit or Charlotte?” he asked Taf.
“She said something about Cuba,” Taf said with a simper.
Peri peeked down the stairs. Silas rubbed his legs, clearly pained. Too bad she didn’t know how to fly, or they could back out of here and just go. The engine was still ticking-hot.
“Tell me, or I’ll shoot your mother,” Allen threatened, and Peri’s brow furrowed. She didn’t want to have to draft to save anyone’s life, but she knew she’d do it.
But Taf shifted the barrel of her weapon to Allen, as cool as if she’d done this a thousand times before. “Ya’ll just do that,” she said in a thick accent, convincing Peri at least. “My momma is a bitch, but you make one move and I’ll plug you myself. I’m from the South, sugar, and I kill my own snakes.”
Silas’s breath was tickling her neck, and she stifled a quiver when he said, “Allen is playing us both.”
Do we have to do this right now? “Tell me about it,” she said tersely. “I was on my way to Detroit when I realized they had you. Allen is a liar. I didn’t turn you in.”
“Turn me in? Allen picked me up before I could meet you.” Silas’s gaze went distant, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “You ditched me,” he said, and Peri grimaced. “You had no intention of meeting me at that dealership.”
“Can we maybe do this after we escape?” she whispered in frustration. “I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I left you, but I didn’t know they were going to pick you up, and when I found out they had, I came back. What do you think I was doing at the alliance?”
“Having drinks, by the looks of it,” he snarked, and she sighed in exasperation. Why was he stomping all over her high?
The sound of Taf’s rifle echoed like a cannon. Adrenaline was a jolt, and Peri shoved Silas back from the door and into safety. Taf was shooting again?
“Peri! Let’s go!” Taf shouted roughly, and Peri’s breath fogged up the window. Allen was on the cement, his hand clamped about his foot, blood seeping around his fingers.
“You shot him!” Fran stared aghast at her daughter. “Are you crazy?”
“I shot his foot. He was going to kill me! Gawd, Mom. You think I should have just let him? And I’ll be damned before I let you railroad another innocent woman.”
“Innocent?” Fran laughed, and the cold sound tripped down Peri’s spine. “Don’t be naive, my dear. Give me the gun, and for God’s sake, drop the accent.”
“I am not ashamed of who I am!” Taf shouted, face red. “Peri? We gotta go!”
Before she really gets pissed, Peri thought, shoving Silas to the door.
“You involved Taffy?” Silas grimaced over his shoulder at her. “She’s just a girl!”
“The woman’s name is Taf, and she’s rescuing us,” Peri said. “And shooting at people. At th
e same time.” He stared at her, and she gestured to the stairs. “Who do you think planned my escape? Listen to the woman with the rifle and move your ass!”
Silas fell into motion. Allen stared at them as they limped down the stairs. Howard gestured for them to hurry, half hidden by a pallet of freight. This was so messed up. How many people did it take to rescue one man?
“Howard?” Silas exclaimed in shock. “What are you doing here?”
Peri sighed, wondering the same thing. Her feet hit the concrete in a last lurch, the jarring sensation traveling all the way up to her skull. Hunched, she waved Taf to join them. Taf jogged forward, yelling at her mother to stay where she was, but Fran was still in shock, torn between yelling at her daughter and seeing if Allen was okay. Ashen, Allen held his bloody foot, silent as he watched them flee.
“You okay?” Taf said, eyes bright as she held Allen’s Glock out to her. “Silas?”
“He can move.” Frustrated, Peri took the handgun and pushed Taf toward the back door. Howard had tucked his shoulder under Silas’s arm, and Taf walked backward to make sure her mom didn’t follow.
“Don’t believe her, Silas,” Allen shouted, his voice holding equal amounts of anger and pain. “You’ll never know the truth! She doesn’t even know it herself. I read her diary. I know how easy it’s become for her to kill.”
Peri’s face went cold, her pace faltering. He saw my diary?
“We will find you!” Allen called out, still on the floor, a small puddle of blood around his foot. “We know everything you’ll do, Peri. We trained you!”
This was going to give her nightmares. Taf walked backward beside Peri, the young woman’s long coat furling like the heroine’s in a sci-fi flick, her rifle pointed at the floor, but neither Allen nor her mom was moving.
“You trust her?” Peri heard Silas ask Howard, and her jaw clenched.
“I don’t know,” Howard said. “But coming back for you was her idea.”
“Taf, you are cut off! You hear me?” Fran exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know,” Taf said, a hint of the depth of her bitterness showing.
“Taf!” Fran shouted as they got to the back door and light spilled in.
Peri stood a shaky watch with Taf as Howard got Silas to the truck. Silas wasn’t moving well, his wide shoulders hunched in pain, and Peri was worried.
“You first,” Taf said, motioning for Peri to go. Silas was already in the truck, pained and crunched into the door. Behind her, the security door slammed. Taf stomped past her, the young woman’s head down and the rifle held in a white-knuckled grip. A frustrated female cry echoed in the hangar.
And even though she couldn’t stand the woman, Peri knew exactly how Fran felt.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
The small room was warm from body heat, and the reek of Howard’s solder overpowered the scent of the hot chocolate Silas had brought back for her from the nearby coffeehouse—along with something for everyone—when he’d gone in search of an honest-to-God paper newspaper. Nose wrinkled, Peri sipped at the cooling drink, levering herself out of the faded chair to nuke it in the microwave. Silas looked up from where he was kneeling over the coffee table with Howard. Styrofoam and plastic bags littered the floor, and Silas gave her a quick smile before Howard recaptured his attention with a request to hold something.
The large man was clearly glad she’d relaxed enough to finally eat. She hadn’t let them stop except for gas and snacks on the drive back to Detroit, eager to get to a safe house—one that wasn’t tied to Opti or the alliance.
Peri set the hot chocolate in the microwave, started it up, and waited beside the small efficiency sink while it spun. The bachelor apartment was a welcome spot of security. Even Opti didn’t know she had it, Peri having bought the entire building on her eighteenth birthday during the great exodus for five hundred bucks and a promise to renovate. Which she had. It was in someone else’s name and attached to an offshore bank account that paid expenses accrued. The rent from the comic book shop downstairs kept everything even with inflation. It had been almost five years since the last visit—that she remembered—but Joe downstairs had been glad to see her, selling her a couple of rare Superwoman comics she’d been looking for to round out her collection. She was a good landlord, easy on the rent, and quick to upgrade the technology that let Joe stay competitive.
It was supposed to have been an investment, but she’d bought it because it was set right downtown in a neighborhood that had never undergone the modernization the rest of the city enjoyed. That, and she liked comics. Here, Detroit showed her past with stone and steel, bad parking, authentic ethnic restaurants, beggar musicians on corners, and shopfronts pushed right up to the street. It was noisy and cramped, and Peri felt good that she’d helped save it, even if it was only a few blocks long and there were more electric Sity bikes than cars now.
There was only one window that overlooked a parking lot and the adjacent street. The old rug did little to cover the scratched floorboards, and the muted voices filtering up from below were comforting in their predominantly male tenor. The furnishings were worn and mismatched, and Peri smiled as she remembered buying them at a secondhand shop simply because it would irritate her mother. Smile widening, Peri looked at her bright red fingernails as she dried her hands. She’d done a lot back then simply because her mother wouldn’t like it. Still did, apparently.
The microwave dinged, and Peri took the hot chocolate to the window to watch the dark street for Taf, currently out getting Howard a circuit. Silas had agreed to help Peri get her talisman and bring back what had happened at Global Genetics, but there was a reluctance in him, a big “however” that kept tweaking her confidence—and it was beginning to get on her nerves.
It might be that Opti car at her apartment in Lloyd Park. Breaking in, immobilizing, and leaving before Opti could react might be an issue, but the five thousand under the silverware caddy meant she had more resources and didn’t have to rely on Silas anymore. Maybe that’s what is bothering him, she thought, sipping her drink as Silas jumped, jerking his finger away from Howard’s motherboard and scowling.
“Taf is back,” she said, and Howard looked up, brightening.
“Good. I could use her little fingers,” he said, but Peri didn’t think it was just her hands he was glad to see. Thinking their past must be thicker than she’d first thought, Peri shifted the blind to keep the young woman in sight. Even lit by streetlight and the oncoming cars, she was the picture of privilege, a blond goddess with that swagger of hers and a little bag dangling from her hand. She fit right in with the other Motown shoppers. Letting the blind fall, Peri listened to the guys downstairs flirt with her, and then the creaking of her steps on the stairs. There was no way up them except noisy.
Bright-eyed and cheerful, Taf strode in, looking sharp in her “rescue attire.” Peri rubbed ruefully at her new jeans. They’d gone shopping this morning, but remembering what Allen had said about the ease of finding her, she’d left everything she liked on the rack. The faded fabric and sweater felt untidy, but since “not her” had been her goal, it would do.
“I think I got what you wanted, Howie,” Taf said as she shoved Silas farther down the table and upended the bag. “Smartphone-to-glass compatible chips. Gawwd, these things are expensive. They were going to charge me full price until I poured on the southern charm. That and I paid cash. This town loves its cash.”
Yes, it does, Peri thought, hot mug in hand as she sat at the kitchen table before the half-knitted scarf she’d found tucked among the throw cushions.
“That’s it. Thanks,” Howard said as he ripped the plastic off, and pleased, Taf took her coat off and slipped in where Silas had been. Seeing her ponytail inches from his dreadlocks made Peri smile. They were so unlike, but they complemented each other perfectly.
Shoulders bunching, Silas stood, looking massive next to Taf’s petite bounciness. Clearly the odd man out, he went to the dusty shelves to eye the titles of the
books and movies.
“Howard and I will swing by your apartment tonight to see if Opti is still there,” Silas said as he pushed the button on the SS Enterprise model to make Spock tell him to live long and prosper.
Peri’s brow furrowed. She didn’t like him touching her stuff. “Don’t bother. They aren’t going anywhere,” she said as she set her knitting down and joined Silas. “Getting in might be an issue.”
Howard hissed in pain, shaking his hand as the smell of solder rose again, and Taf laughed. “Taf and I can help,” he said, glaring at her mirth. “Distract them. Draw them off.”
“And have you end up in an Opti cell?” Peri protested. “No. We’ll find another way.”
Taf snorted as she used a pencil to hold something for Howard to solder. “We won’t get caught. I know someone in Detroit with a sweet bike. Totally uncatchable.”
Howard looked up, blinking. “I’ve never driven a bike before.”
“And that’s not going to change,” Taf said. “You sit behind me, dreadlock man. Real men don’t mind their women driving.”
Silas frowned. “No,” Peri said, agreeing with him. “No one is going to be a distraction. Opti kills people,” she added. Opti kills people. I kill people.
“What the blazes are we here for, then?” Taf complained.
“Extraction.” Peri plucked the picture of twelve ten-year-olds in tutus out of Silas’s hand before he picked her out of the group, setting it next to the autographed picture of Putin riding a Photoshopped bear where it belonged. “Three g’s, and an r: Get in, get the info, get out, relocate.” They weren’t her words, but Jack’s. She didn’t remember—she just knew.
“Extraction?” Taf sighed. “I can do more than drive. I can shoot, too. All us debutantes learn how to shoot before we get our first push-up bras.”
“Extraction is where someone who almost minored in evasive driving belongs,” Howard said, his head low over his work, and Silas snorted.