by Lisa Kessler
And until today, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought.
Maybe John was rubbing off on her. Or maybe now that she was looking forward to seeing him tonight, she wasn’t so keen on getting killed.
Tuck looked over at the house and shrugged. “Looks fine to me. Plus, it’s broad daylight. No one would risk attacking us if someone else might see.”
She glanced at the houses in the distance. “It’s not very public.” She tapped the iPad on Tuck’s lap. “Did the transfer go through?”
“Yeah. The money hit fifteen minutes ago.” He reached for the door handle. “Let’s get this over with.”
She sucked in a deep breath and got out. Soon, she’d be back in the car, heading for Savannah, for John. He’d promised her a celebration dinner. She’d focus on that.
Tuck waited by the trunk, a crease in his brow. “Are you sure it’s back here?”
“Yeah. I put it in myself.” Why would he think she forgot? She lifted the black box from the trunk, but Tuck reached for it, taking it from her hands.
“I’ll carry it for you.”
Weird. She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He walked behind her up the cement path. When they climbed the steps to the porch, Tuck whispered, “Did you ever get the box open?”
“No. Why?”
He frowned, leaning down to put his ear to the box. “Someone did something to it.”
The whispers. Tuck must’ve heard them while she had the box stashed in the warehouse. Shit. He was going to blow this for them if he kept this up.
She rang the bell and turned to take possession of the box. Tuck almost didn’t give it up. Before she could say something, the door opened.
“Come in.” A tall man with dark brown curly hair stepped back to let her pass.
“You’re Dr. Trumain, right?” She hesitated, not crossing the threshold. “I’m not here to have a drink. Here, the box is yours.” She held it out toward him.
He chuckled without reaching for it. “We transferred the money. Now I need to verify the authenticity. Once I’m finished, our business will be done. Until then, get comfortable.”
“That wasn’t the deal.” Harmony narrowed her eyes at Tuck. Say something. But he didn’t seem to notice. All his attention was on the box.
She was on her own here. Fine. She entered the house and placed the box on the table. “We’re finished.”
As she turned for the door, a gun cocked behind her. “I decide when we’re finished.”
“Shit. He’s got a gun,” Tuck whined.
She froze in her tracks, her pulse racing as she looked over her shoulder. “We delivered our half of the deal. Our business is done.”
“So you say.” Dr. Trumain’s voice was calm, almost genial, like he wasn’t about to pump a bullet into her back. “Now, come have a seat while I determine the product’s authenticity, and no one gets hurt.”
Chapter Nineteen
Char’s eyes popped open as she gasped for air. In one fluid movement, John was on his feet, stopping beside Keegan at the edge of the bed. “Is it finished?”
She rubbed her forehead, clenching her eyes closed as she shook her head. “I saw him. Then…” She opened her eyes, her gaze locked on John. “I don’t know how he did it, but I couldn’t get in that house.”
Keegan took Char’s hand, his fingers lacing with hers. “Slow down, love. Who did you see?”
“Bruce. Dr. Trumain. He was the one at the door. Harmony didn’t want to go inside.” Char frowned. “Did you know he was her buyer?”
“No.” John shook his head. “She never told me a name, and since we were delivering a fake, I didn’t think it mattered.” John clenched his fists. “Did he force her inside?”
“No.” Char frowned, shaking her head. “She took the box inside to set it down. But when I tried to follow her into the house, I ended up…back here, like he had a forcefield or something.”
“Fuck.” John raked his hand through his hair. “Do you know where the house is?”
“We were in Darien.” Char’s gaze went distant. “I didn’t see the address number, but it was a narrow road with a row of white houses. She went in the one closest to the water.”
“I’ve got to get out there.” John grabbed the knapsack.
Keegan cleared his throat. “If she needs you, you’ll never get there in time without an address.”
John put the sack over his shoulder. “I can’t stand here and do nothing.”
“Not like you to run into a tempest without a plan, mate.” Keegan squeezed Char’s hand and met her eyes. “Do you think you can get the address without catching Trumain’s attention?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m sure I can.”
John headed for the door. “It’s a half-hour drive. Call me when you have it.”
Keegan got up from the bed. “What kind of bullshit plan is this, John? Trumain could have some of his Serpent Society friends with him. You think you’re just going to walk in alone and save the day?”
Keegan was right, but there was no way in hell John was going to let another minute creep by without doing something. “No risk, no reward.”
“No fucking way this is going to work,” Keegan groaned as John stormed out of the captain’s quarters.
John called over his shoulder, “Get me the address.”
“I’ll get you backup, too, you brainless pirate!” Keegan shouted.
John jogged back to his car, grateful he left the Lexus in the garage. He got behind the wheel of his Porsche and fired up the engine. Worry tightened his chest like a vise as he glanced over at the knapsack in the passenger seat. Trumain and the Serpent Society had been ready to kill the entire Sea Dog crew in order to reclaim the Holy Grail.
And now he was driving it back to them. Shit.
Keegan was right. This was a bullshit plan.
But Harmony was in danger, and the Grail might be the only way to save her, so bullshit or not, he was going to do whatever was necessary to protect her.
…
Harmony entered the inky shadows of Trumain’s basement with Tuck right behind her and their buyer bringing up the rear, gun at the ready. She beat herself up with each step for not inviting John to be her wingman on this drop. His deadeye aim throwing a dagger would’ve been really useful right about now.
Two chairs waited at the base of the stairs. They were placed on either side of a black pipe going up from the foundation into the house above. A round table draped in purple velvet sat in the center of the space, with candles lining the edge. In the middle of the circle of candles was a yellowed statue of a god with a lightning bolt in hand. Zeus. He’d crafted Pandora’s box in the myths.
Her heart skipped a beat. Shit. Was Trumain going to try to open the box?
“Sit down and relax.” Trumain’s tone still reflected a party host instead of an armed abductor.
She hoped that meant he still believed she’d delivered the real box. If Drake’s replica stood up to Trumain’s inspection, he should let them go. He was a history expert, not a murderer. And it wasn’t like they could go to the police without revealing they sold a stolen relic.
As long as they stayed calm and played along, she might get out of this basement without a bullet in her head.
A girl could hope.
Her hopes faded as Trumain quickly wrapped duct tape around her wrists, binding her hands together so tightly that her fingers tingled. She made eye contact with Tuck. He could tackle Trumain from behind right now, but he didn’t move.
Shit. She was on her own here.
“This isn’t necessary.” She glanced around the basement for anything she might use as a weapon. “We delivered the box, and if you want us to watch you open it, I can save you some valuable time. It’s locked. We tried everything. Nothing will open that lid.”
Trumain’s eyes shone in the dim candlelight, the shadow of his smile widened his mouth like a demon, and the flame flickered in his dark eyes like hellfire. “Ah,
but I have the key.”
Trumain spun around and grabbed Tuck’s wrists.
Her partner gasped. “What the hell? Why are you tying me up?” Trumain wrapped the tape round and round while Tuck sat wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed. “This wasn’t our agreement. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”
What the hell was Tuck talking about? I made the agreement with Trumain.
Trumain raised the barrel of his gun. “I don’t want to hurt you—but I will.”
“You’re making a huge mistake,” Tuck groaned. “Just open the damned thing and get this over with.”
Again, Harmony was kicking herself for not bringing John. But her pride had made that impossible. That fourteen-year-old part of herself that watched her father drive away to Texas still believed that partnering with John, trusting him, would make her weak. Dependent. And eventually hurt when he let her down.
But here in the shadows, she realized she would’ve had much better odds of fighting her way out with him at her side.
Trumain placed the box in the center of the table, in front of the statue of Zeus, and disappeared into the shadows for a second. He came back into the light and placed a music stand holding up a weathered book, then carefully started flipping pages.
They were going to be very screwed if this guy had some kind of ritual to pop the lock on Pandora’s box. Why hadn’t she made a backup plan? It had seemed like a simple exchange.
Trumain set the gun down on the table and slid a ring resembling a snake onto his finger. He picked up a black hooded robe and pulled it on.
Shit. Do something. But even if she could delay, there was no cavalry coming. She hadn’t told anyone where the meeting was happening. Stupid. She’d let her pride get the best of her, but to be fair, she never dreamed a professor might be a member of the Serpent Society cult.
I’m not dying here.
“There must be another way to verify the authenticity without opening it.” With her hands cuffed, she couldn’t get into her pocket to grab her new phone, but she traced the edge of the bulge in her jeans and slowly pushed it toward the opening. “You know what’s supposed to be inside, right?”
He chuckled, lifting the hood over his head. “I’m well aware of what’s inside.”
“If you’re going to wipe out the world anyway, why not let us go? I’m sure the evils in that box won’t have any trouble finding us.”
“You’re chatty.” He looked over his shoulder, and she quickly shifted her hands back into her lap. “Relax. Once I connect with the power inside, you’ll be free to go. I’m not going to release it—yet.”
He faced the table again, and she went back to trying to wiggle her phone out of her pocket. She needed to hurry. There was nothing in that box for him to “connect” with, and he’d figure that out soon.
Trumain raised his arms, chanting something in…Greek? Maybe Latin. Languages weren’t her specialty. While he called to all the world’s evils, Harmony managed to free her phone. She pressed John’s name and fired off a typo-ridden text.
Exchange is ducked. He knows its faked.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she kept one eye on Trumain. If he caught her sending a text—shit, she didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t find the address to cut and paste. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
There wasn’t time. She typed.
Darien near water.
She hit send and stuffed the phone back in her pocket.
Trumain’s voice rose, the words coming faster and faster. She looked over at Tuck, trying to get his attention. If Tuck distracted Trumain, she could make a run for the gun. She wasn’t sure she could shoot it with her hands in cuffs, but at this point it wouldn’t matter, anyway…
Tuck’s head was down as he rocked back and forth in the chair.
Damn it.
Trumain spun around, his calm professorial demeanor long gone, replaced by a warped image of rage-induced mania. “Where is it?”
Fuck fuck fuck. She struggled to keep her expression neutral. “Where is what?”
He came closer, aiming the gun at her forehead. “The real box.”
The game was over. “If you kill me, you’ll never get it.”
The real box was the only play she had left, but there was no way Agent Bale would ever give it up. Not to save two of the Digi Robins. But maybe it would buy time for John to get here. Without an address, he’d need lots of time.
Trumain didn’t lower the gun, but mentioning the real box seemed to awaken Tuck beside her. He lifted his head.
Trumain spoke through gritted teeth. “Where is it?”
Harmony’s mouth went dry, and her voice wobbled. “Put down the gun and we can talk.”
Her phone vibrated in her jeans. Oh shit. John must’ve replied.
She should’ve turned it off. Too late now.
Trumain leaned forward, reaching for her phone. He stared at the screen and chuckled. “Small world.” His eyes met hers. “You know John Smyth.” He tucked her phone into his jacket pocket. “This sweetens the pot immensely. I can get my prize and hurt the Sea Dog crew.”
This guy knew John? Harmony glanced at Tuck and back to Trumain. “Let Tuck go. He doesn’t know where the real box is, anyway.”
“No.” Tuck shook his head, a brief flash of panic on his face. For a second, she almost thought she imagined it. He lifted his chin. “We leave together.”
Harmony narrowed her eyes at the computer geek. Was he seriously getting noble now? “Tuck, just go.”
“You’re both coming with me.” Trumain pulled her to her feet and shoved her forward, then did the same to her partner. With his gun aimed at their backs, he hurried them up the stairs and out the back door.
She squinted in the late-afternoon sunshine, unable to cover her eyes as he ushered them to a windowless black van. She climbed in, wishing like hell she had seen some neighbors, even a kid on his bike. They were being abducted in broad daylight without a single witness.
Inside the back of the van, Trumain put black bags over their heads and slammed the doors closed.
Harmony whispered to Tuck, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d be able to tell it was a forgery.”
“What’d you do with the box? The real one,” Tuck asked.
“The government was after us. You saw them watching you.” She shrugged. “I gave it back.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know it sounds nuts, but I think the box was real. Too dangerous to sell to this guy for sure.”
The driver’s side door opened, ending their conversation. Trumain peeled out, knocking them over as he turned the van onto the street. She had no idea where they were headed, he had her phone, she could barely move, and there was no way Agent Bale would trade this lunatic for the priceless artifact anyway.
Despair sapped the strength from her muscles. She didn’t see an outcome where she came out of this alive.
Her mother might not even notice, but Max would.
And then there was John. God, she had thought they’d have more time. She closed her eyes, remembering the way he held her a few hours before, when he told her he—he hadn’t said the words, not out loud, but she’d seen them reflected in his eyes.
He’d seen her at her worst and best, and he accepted all of it. For the first time in her life, she might’ve found love, unconditional and real.
I’m not going down without a fight. No way.
Chapter Twenty
John rolled up to the address in Keegan’s text, but before he reached the front steps, an SUV pulled up. Keegan, Char, Colton, and Drake got out.
“What are you doing here?” John raised a brow.
Keegan replied, “Once Char had the address, we jumped in the car.” Keegan glanced at the others. “We’re your backup, mate.”
John looked at them, stunned all over again that he’d been so foolhardy to leave on his own without a plan. “Thank you.” He showed them his phone. “Harmony sent me this text fifteen minutes ago
. Trumain knows the box isn’t authentic.”
Drake cursed under his breath. “Told you this was too risky.”
John shook his head. “Placing blame isn’t going to get us anywhere. I’ll take the front entrance with Drake. Colton, you take the others around the back.”
Since Colton was the only crew member who chose not to take another drink from the Grail, John wanted to keep him out of the line of fire as much as possible.
Once they split up, John and Drake moved silently toward the house. John tried the front door. The knob turned. Unlocked. He carefully swung the door open, relieved it didn’t squeak. The entry was clear. He listened for voices, but only silence answered. His gut twisted. They were too late.
Colton met him in the living area. The quartermaster stared at John. “There’s a basement. Door to the stairs is in the kitchen.”
John ground his teeth, struggling to silence the demons lurking in the shadows of his mind. Death used to be a way of life for him and the crew. Hell, he’d killed a Serpent Society member in his garage yesterday.
But if he found Harmony lifeless in the basement, if he was too late with the Grail, this would be a gut-wrenching pain he might never recover from. Steeling his nerve, he walked past the others into the kitchen. He opened the door and jogged down the stairs.
Candles flickered around the black box Drake had built. There were two empty chairs facing the table and no sign of a struggle.
Colton reached the basement, his gun at the ready. “They’re gone?”
John nodded, turning back to the stairs. “We need to find them.”
Char blew out a pent-up breath. “I can try again, but Dr. Trumain has some biblical relics that seem to block me.”
“We just need a starting point.” John’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He yanked it out and frowned. “It’s a text from Harmony. A video.”
He clicked the play button, and suddenly his screen was filled with a dimly lit clip. A single lantern sat on the floor between two people hanging from the ceiling by bindings around their wrists. Trumain came in close.
“John Smyth. Since Harmony’s last text was to you, I’m guessing you and your crew have Pandora’s box. By my calculations, these two behind me might have twenty-four hours of air left in this chapel. Maybe. Bring me the relic and I’ll give you their location. Text me when you have it and I’ll tell you where to meet me.”