Lost Distinction

by Rachel Sharpe

  “I shouldn’t have gone off on him,” Rick said softly, scratching his jaw. “It’s just that gun. When it went off—”

  I moved closer to him on the couch. “It’s okay.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress. Jon just needs to cool off. He’ll be back.”

  Rick looked into my eyes, offering another unreadable expression. “I’m not too sure about that, Jordan. This has been building up. It’s not just about the gun.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “You mean because he came uninvited and annoyed the ambassador?”

  Rick cocked his head to the left and stared at me for several moments before responding, “Jon likes you.”

  “I like him, too. Sometimes.”

  Rick walked over to the fireplace. After several more moments of silence, he turned. “No, I mean Jon really likes you.”

  I blinked. “I really like him, too. Again, sometimes.”

  Rick walked back over to the couch, sitting on its arm. “You don’t understand. Jon really likes you. Jordan, he’s interested in you. Romantically.”

  “What?” I sat there and let his words sink into my mind. Functioning on little sleep and suffering from jet lag, I was not at my best. When I realized what Rick implied, my eyes widened and my face flushed. “Uh-uh! No way. We’re just friends.”

  Rick leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Jordan, I’m not suggesting you’ve led him on or anything. I’m just telling you that Jon likes you. Our fight really wasn’t about a stupid gun.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you need to know. Also, I guess I wanted to see your reaction.”

  “And how did I react?”

  He grinned. “The way I hoped you would.”

  I leaned back against the thick cushions and stared up at the twelve-foot ceiling and intricate crown molding. I closed my eyes, yawning.

  “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

  I nodded in reply.

  “Why don’t you go take a nap? We can’t do anything until later anyway. You need to be alert tonight.”

  I opened my eyes and looked over at him. As usual, my levelheaded boyfriend was making perfect sense. I nodded again and stood up, yawning. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Sweet dreams,” he called as I headed for the guest room.

  I walked slowly toward the long hallway, which led to the bedrooms. “Good night.”

  Chapter 18

  I stood there, helplessly. Arthur was mere yards away, but the distance seemed far greater. Suddenly, I realized Rick was no longer beside me. He put himself between the gunman and Arthur. My heart raced, pounding in my ears as I watched in horror. Jon didn’t hesitate, running up beside Rick.

  I held up my hands, pleading with the assailant. “Wait. We can work this out.”

  The stranger stared at me with dead eyes. “Time’s up,” he answered as his finger slid in front of the trigger.

  BANG, BANG, BANG!

  My eyes flew open and I looked around. Moonlight shone through the cracks in the wooden blinds, leaving an eerie glow upon the bed. Another series of knocks brought me back to reality.

  I wiped sweat off my brow as I sat up. Another nightmare. The same as before, but more detailed. Walking to the door, I straightened Michelle’s evergreen cashmere shirt, my hands shaking as the frightful images remained fresh.

  Rick greeted me as I opened the door.

  “Good morning.”

  I nodded at him. “Okay.”

  The bright light of the hallway shone around him, giving the illusion he was glowing. As usual, he looked amazing. The light merely added to his appeal.

  “Are you all right?”

  I yawned. “Yeah, I’m fine. What time is it?”

  “Nine thirty.”

  “Nine thirty in the morning or at night? Also, are we talking London, Central or Eastern Time? I’m getting really confused here.”

  Rick laughed and kissed me. “It’s been a busy weekend.” He turned on the light in the guestroom. “For the record, it’s nine thirty at night, London time.”

  “I slept twelve hours?” I groaned, sitting down on the unmade bed.

  “Don’t worry about it. You needed it. Now you’ll be fully alert for the drop tonight.”

  “Has Jon called?” I asked, my mind flashing to the image of him walking away. Rick shook his head. “Any new details on the case? I feel like Rip Van Winkle.”

  Rick smiled slightly. “Well, Rip, there haven’t been any new details on the case, but Mr. Cross somehow managed to get the money. Not that that’s a shock.”

  I self-consciously began to comb my hair with my brush. I probably looked horrible. “What have you done all day? I’m so sorry I slept so long!”

  Rick sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry. I was fine. I actually managed to get a little work done if you can believe it.”

  “I thought you left your laptop at home?”

  “I did. But Mr. Cross has one in his study. I got about two hours worth of work in before Ms. Chambers realized where I was and kicked me out.”

  I could easily envision the petite and elegant June Chambers gracefully forcing Rick, a man more than a foot taller than her, from the ambassador’s study. I smiled at the image.

  Stretching, I decided to take a shower and change before we headed out for the drop. Rummaging through my luggage, I realized I didn’t have much in regards to warm clothes. I grabbed a silk-lavender shirt and decided to wear the same jeans. “I need to get ready.”

  Rick looked at my thin shirt and shook his head. “You’ll freeze to death if you wear that. It’s supposed to be in the forties tonight.”

  “Forties? Are you kidding me? I thought it was June! Isn’t England supposed to have warm summers?”

  “There’s a cold front coming through. Look, will you wear my jacket at least? I can’t stand the thought of your freezing.”

  Normally, my pride would have rebuffed such an offer, but I didn’t know how long I would be standing around waiting in the cold, so I reluctantly agreed. Satisfied, he headed to the door to leave. He paused and looked back at me. “Yes?”

  “Well, since Jon’s out of the picture, I thought you and I could make the drop tonight.”

  The mention of Jon’s name gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I nodded in agreement. “That makes sense.”

  “Devin can drive us to St. Olave’s and we—”

  “No. I don’t want Devin involved.”

  Rick looked surprised. “Why?”

  I still didn’t want to reveal Devin as my contact to Bronx, the drug dealer. “I have a bad feeling about him. I don’t trust him.”

  Making certain the door was closed, Rick hurried across the room and whispered, “Do you think he had something to do with the kidnapping?”

  I had no intention of creating suspicion that might be unwarranted or that might put me in a difficult situation later so I answered, “I don’t know, but I don’t trust him. I don’t want him involved. At all. Will that be a problem?”

  Rick stared off into space. “Mr. Cross may get suspicious.”

  “I have an idea. I’ll just play off the obsession with his public image.”

  Rick raised his left eyebrow. “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I winked at him. “Just go out there and don’t say a word. I’ll be out soon and take care of it.”

  Rick studied me several moments before shaking his head and saying, “Whatever you say. I’m sure what you’re planning will be interesting.”

  After I took a hot shower, I quickly fixed my hair and makeup. Rick was right about my outfit being incapable of providing even the semblance of warmth. I thought I was going to catch a chill in the steamy bathroom.

  As soon as I was ready, I hurried out into the living area and discovered the ambassador, Rick,
and Devin all sitting around, watching a soccer game. Rick smiled when I entered the room and Mr. Cross glanced at me.

  “Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Miss James,” he offered dryly.

  “Mr. Cross, it appears my associate won’t be able to assist in the drop tonight.”

  “Is that so?” he marveled. “Well, what’s your back-up plan, Miss James?”

  “Rick is going to help me.”

  The ambassador picked up a glass of scotch from the wooden table beside the couch and took a sip. After placing it down again, he nodded. “All right. You and Richard will make the drop. Devin will drive you.”

  Devin’s eyes widened at the mention of his name and he swallowed hard. He pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and gripped them as if they were his life source. Despite his attempt to avoid my gaze, our eyes locked.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I refused to break eye contact with Devin. From where I stood, he looked like a hyper, redheaded rat that feared that a cat was ready to pounce on him.

  The ambassador swallowed another mouthful of scotch and turned the glass around in his hand, showing very little interest in our discussion. “Why not?”

  I walked in front of the television, blocking the ambassador’s view of the game. “Well, sir, to be quite honest, I’m concerned about how it will look to the public.” His annoyance vanished. I now had his undivided attention. “You see, sir, if he were to drive us there at that time of night, it might look suspicious.”

  The ambassador raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “If Rick and I were seen riding in your car with your assistant to drop off a suspicious package to a back alley at midnight—”

  “People may become suspicious. The truth about Arthur’s kidnapping would become public knowledge, making him a liability to his kidnapper,” Mr. Cross concluded, furrowing his brow. He rubbed his forehead and nodded to himself. “You’re right. Devin can’t drive you. It will put Arthur’s life in greater danger.”

  Despite my best efforts not to, I felt my mouth drop. My intention was to play on the ambassador’s obsession with image. I’d planned to suggest it would hinder his sons’ political campaigns if he were connected to a ransom drop. Instead, his concern was actually for Arthur’s safety. It was surprising and refreshing to be proven wrong by a politician.

  “That’s it exactly,” I agreed, hoping he didn’t notice my astonishment.

  He didn’t. He ordered Devin to rent a car. When Devin protested that it was ten o’clock at night and most places were closed, the ambassador gave him a look and he hurried out the door.

  An hour later, Devin returned. He coughed as he tossed Rick the keys. “It’s out front. I ‘ad a right ‘ard time finding you this, mate. I ‘ope you appreciate it.”

  Rick caught the keys. I followed after him and paused in the doorway as he hurried down the steps and stopped in front of the small, silver sedan parked beside the curb.

  He walked around the vehicle, inspecting it. “Yeah, I really appreciate him doing his job. You’re right, Jordan. That guy seems off. And he smells like a giant ashtray. My nose burns.”

  I leaned against the doorframe and rubbed my arms. The temperature may have been in the forties, but outside the Cross’s flat, just across from the Thames, it felt like the twenties.

  I sighed and saw my breath float up to the sky. A jacket was a definite must. Rick hiked up the steps. I trailed him back inside. Devin was already on the balcony, smoking again. Shocker. The ambassador had not moved from his spot on the couch.

  “Is the car acceptable, Richard?”

  Rick shoved the keys in his jeans pocket as he sat down. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. After all, you’re the one here to help Arthur.”

  Rick blinked, clearly unsure how to respond. Finally, he said, “Anything for Arthur.”

  The ambassador took one last sip of scotch. Staring into the empty glass, he smiled sadly. “Arthur,” he sighed. I stood a few yards away and watched him turn his head from Rick, blinking away the moisture in his eyes.

  Clearing his throat, Ambassador Cross stood up. “If you’ll excuse me. The money is here and I’ll have my phone on me. Please call me when everything is finished, Richard. I’m counting on you.”

  He handed Rick a worn, leather briefcase before walking down the hallway and going into his bedroom. Rick stared after him as he gripped the briefcase. He craned his neck toward me and motioned at the case. “What should we do with this?”

  I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, fastening it with the hair band I kept on my left wrist. My attention was not on the money, but instead, on Devin. He paced the balcony. “Just hold onto it,” I replied, walking toward the patio doors. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, I’m good,” I replied, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air.

  As I closed the door behind me, Devin whipped around. He opened his mouth in surprise and the cigarette dangling from his lower lip dropped. As it fell, it singed his pants leg. He jumped up and slapped at his leg.

  “Bloody ‘ell!” he cried, smashing the cigarette beneath his shoe. “What now?”

  “You didn’t tell me how many friends Bronx had,” I offered a fake smile.

  Devin narrowed his eyes and removed another cigarette from the pack. Sticking it between his lips, he replied, “I don’t follow, love.”

  Before he could blink, I rushed him, ripping the unlit stick from his lips and smashing it beneath my boot. My surprise attack caught him off-guard and he stumbled backwards into the stone wall.

  “What do you want?” His green eyes darted back and forth in the moonlight.

  “One thing.”

  “What?”

  “Where’s Arthur?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” I grabbed him by the shirt. “You thought that little creep was gonna take care of me. I get it. But I’m really getting sick of this game. Where is Arthur?”

  He turned his head and began coughing. I released him as he doubled over. When he stopped, he gasped, “I don’t know where Arthur is. I swear it. I ‘ad nothing to do with that. I’d never ‘urt the family like that.”

  “Oh, of course. You had no problem pumping Henry full of drugs. Kidnapping Arthur is out of the question. You do know I don’t believe you, right?”

  He straightened his shirt and tried to pass me. I took one step to the left, blocking his path. Although he was nearly a foot taller than me, I was not intimidated. Devin was clearly in poor health.

  Giving up his attempt to flee, he slumped to the ground, wrapping his long arms around his knees. “Bollocks,” he wheezed. “I ‘ad nothing to do with Arthur. I barely know the bloke.”

  “Why should I believe you? You set me up this morning. Bronx was gonna kill me. Or worse.”

  He looked up at me weakly. Shadows from the building covered half his face. In spite of that, I saw the truth in his eyes. He had nothing to do with Arthur’s disappearance. Devin was a loathsome worm, but he was not the kidnapper.

  I turned on my heel and walked back toward the doors.

  “That’s it? I thought you were going to bash my ‘ead in. Where are you going?”

  “To do my job. You may not be Arthur’s kidnapper, but you’re disgusting just the same. I’d advise you to start looking for another job. When this is all over, I promise you you’ll be unemployed.”

  Without another word, I headed back inside.

  Rick was still seated on the couch, but it was clear his attention had been on our confrontation. He leaned forward. “What happened? I heard yelling.”

  “Everything’s fine.” I glanced over my shoulder at the glass doors. “I just needed to get a few things straight with Devin.”

  “And did you?”

  “Oh, yes. Things are perfectly clear now.”

  We left for St. Olave’s at ten past
eleven. Thankfully, it took only ten minutes to get there. In the pale moonlight, the medieval Gothic structure, despite its diminutive size, offered an ominous feeling. I studied the building as we sat in the parked car, across the street from the church.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think this is the right church.”

  Rick, who had been leaning forward to see the church more clearly through the windshield, replied, “This is definitely St. Olave’s. Google Maps led us right here.”

  “But there’s no alley. Doesn’t the ransom say to leave the money in an alley?”

  Rick pulled the folded document from his coat pocket. Before we left, he’d changed into a warm, green sweater with blue jeans and wore a tweed coat of Arthur’s with it so I could wear his black-leather jacket.

  He studied the ransom note carefully before nodding. “You’re right. It says leave the money in the alley, but it also says we’re to go to St. Olave’s Church at midnight.”

  “So if there’s no alley, what are we supposed to do?”

  Three rapid knocks on the car window caused us both to jump. My heart rate steadied as soon as I saw Jon staring down at us from outside the car. I rolled down the window and he leaned his head in. “What are you trying to do? Scare me to death? A little warning would’ve been nice.”

  “I knocked. In most cultures, that is considered a warning.”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  We both turned toward Rick. His jaw was clamped and he glared at Jon suspiciously.

  Jon, in turn, narrowed his gaze. “I’m here to do my job. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Before either could speak, I replied quickly, “No, that’s not a problem.”

  Rick turned away, but muttered, “Thanks for coming.”

  “So heartfelt.” Jon rolled his eyes, but dropped the subject. Instead, still leaning against the car’s doorframe, he said, “This place is really creepy. Seems like a super place for a ransom drop at midnight.”