by Liz Johnson
“For what?” His voice was hoarse and loaded with emotion. He bumped the brim of her cap up higher, out of his way.
The door handle jiggled violently again, and a body slammed once more into the door, accompanied by a loud grunt.
“For everything.” She smiled, cutting the distance between their lips in half. “For kidnapping me. For saving me. For protecting me. For being so honor—”
Her words cut off as he pressed his lips against hers, crushing her to his chest with his arms. His lips were gentle and tender in contrast to the strength of his embrace. And she couldn’t help but smile at the way her heart pounded against his, as if dueling for the title of most affected.
He pulled back after a moment, then leaned in once more for a swift, more urgent connection. He gently ripped his lips from hers, a rakish grin spread from ear to ear. “You pick the worst, least romantic time and place to kiss me? What kind of woman are you?”
She could hear the teasing in his voice, but it didn’t stop the flush of embarrassment that worked its way up her neck. Nana would be scandalized by her actions. Perhaps that’s why Nana did not need to know about this particular event.
“Just a moment please!” Myles called to the growing disturbance on the other side of the door.
Kenzie cleared her throat. “I—I couldn’t help myself.”
Myles roared with laughter. Well, she was sure he would have if he weren’t trying to keep his voice low. It came out as a hoarse chortle instead, but was no less appealing. “Nice excuse. Keep it up, and we might be in big trouble if we’re both using it.” He gave her another peck on the lips, then slipped her feet through the open window. “No more time now.” His eyes darted to the rotting door. “Stay against the building and walk to your left. I’m right behind you.”
She did as he said, slipping down the wall and holding herself flat against the back wall. Her eyes darted around the side street, but she saw no police cars, no police officers, no one.
Myles’s feet stuck through the window, and in one fluid motion, he swung from the window frame and dropped to his feet beside her. He winced when he hit the ground, but made no further comment. When he grabbed her hand, she asked, “Your knee or the scratch?”
He chuckled. “Both.”
Then he tugged her hand and led her down the street. At the corner, he stuck his head around the building, looking for signs of their pursuers. Nothing gave him cause for concern, as he pulled her onto the street, and they walked quickly—but not fast enough to draw undue attention—toward their motel. Myles steered them out of the beams from the street-lights above.
Two blocks later he let go of her hand. “I forgot. You’re still in disguise.” He smiled at her, but it wasn’t enough to fill the sense of loss from losing his touch.
The blocks zoomed by. Several dark-colored cars passed them, but seemed completely oblivious to their existence. And in short order they were back at the Jewel.
“I’ll pay for another night,” Kenzie said. She slipped into the front office, passed two bills to the clerk, mumbled something about keeping the same room in the deepest voice she could muster. Pulling her hat a little lower over her eyes, she headed back to room number three.
Inside the room Myles lay sprawled out on the bed on top of the muted brown bedspread. “I think I was more tired than I realized,” he mumbled. “But I have something for you.” Rolling to his side, he pulled something gray out of the back waistband of his jeans and tossed it to her.
She caught the newspaper and smiled. “We’ve been chased by police twice, and you still managed to get me a newspaper?”
“What can I say? You asked for it. I got it.” His lips quirked as he closed his eyes again.
Kenzie sat down at the little table and immediately began shuffling through The Oregonian. The state’s major newspaper might not be reporting about the everyday happenings in Evergreen, but it would certainly report on the governor. And maybe the governor’s granddaughter.
Nothing on page one. Or two. And then on page three—the state news page—the headline: PRISON EDUCATION REFORM EXPANDS.
Just two years after being passed, the Oregon State Prison Education Reform Bill moves onto its next stage this month, more than a year ahead of schedule. The Oregon State Penitentiary and Shutter Creek Correctional Institution are both scheduled to begin GED preparation courses for inmates.
These courses will be modeled after the program at the Evergreen complex, which succeeded in passing more than two hundred inmates through the program in the past two years. The original program boasted a GED exam pass rate of nearly sixty-five percent, due in part to the lavish budget.
As stipulated in the reform bill, after two hundred inmates complete the GED preparation program, the program will be adopted at other state prisons.
Gubernatorial candidate and Circuit Court Judge Claudia Suarez supports the program, but continues to be outspoken regarding the amount of money being spent. “Education is an important part of prisoner rehabilitation,” says Suarez. “I take that very seriously. But educational dollars are being spent on prisoners that should be spent in our elementary and high schools.”
Governor Mackenzie Thorn could not be reached for comment. According to a spokesperson, he is grieving the kidnapping of his still-missing granddaughter, with whom he shares a name. Ms. Thorn was kidnapped five days ago by a prison inmate after she completed her day of teaching the GED preparation courses at the complex at Evergreen.
Myles snorted and flopped to his side. His eyes opened slowly, and he rubbed them with one large hand. “How long have I been out?”
“Just a few minutes.”
“Anything interesting in the paper?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
Myles scooted to a seated position, leaning against the headboard. “What’s up? More reward money for your safe return? Money for my capture?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just an article about the prison education reform. It talks about the lavish budget for prison education, but we didn’t have a big budget. I mean, I had to make homemade posters. You remember them—on the walls of my classroom?”
“That is strange.” Myles stood up and read the article over her shoulder. “Where’s all that money going, if it’s not going to the teacher or the classroom?”
“There shouldn’t be much overhead to the program. Just books and supplies and my salary. We meet at the prison—no cost there. The inmates walked to class—at no cost. No air-conditioning in the summer—no cost.”
Myles rolled his shoulders and wrinkled his forehead. “I think this might tie in with my phone call today.”
How could she forget about the phone call that started their crazy day? “What happened?”
Myles plopped back on the bed. “A guy on the other end of the line picked up and immediately asked if she was dead.”
“‘She’ being me?” Kenzie couldn’t contain the violent shudder of her entire body.
“I assume so. He never spoke your name. I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t exactly tell the truth, either. I just told him, ‘not yet.’ And he said, ‘You know, it’s your job to make sure that Parsons’—being me of course—‘does his job. We can’t disappoint Macky, now, can we?’”
Kenzie’s neck snapped up from looking at the newspaper so fast that it cracked. “What did you say?”
“He said we don’t want to disappoint Mac.”
“No, you said ‘Macky.’ Then you said, ‘Mac.’ Which did he say?”
Myles furrowed his brow even deeper. “The first.”
“Only one person calls my grandfather ‘Macky.’”
FOURTEEN
“What?”
If Kenzie could spit fire, the entire hotel room would have been toast. She glared at Myles as if he had caused the man on the other end of the line to confess his identity.
“Whoa, there!” Myles held up his hands as if to ward off her attack. “I didn’t do anything. Why are you looking at me like that?”
>
“Macky! Macky! That—that—What a horrid, horrid man!” she shrieked, alternately wringing and clenching her hands and marching in place. Her mind raced to call him every awful name in the book, and she might have if her tongue had cooperated. But then Myles appeared in front of her, holding her hands gently, his face a mask of concern.
“Calm down, Kenz. Tell me what’s happening.”
“It’s Superintendent Ryker.”
“What about Ryker?”
She huffed and barely refrained from yelling at him. “JB Ryker is the only man in the world who calls Mac ‘Macky.’ Mac wouldn’t ever allow anyone else. But he and Ryker have been friends forever. Friends! Imagine that! Mac’s best friend tried to have me killed!”
Understanding lit Myles’s features like a morning sunrise over the mountains, the rays tentative at first, then illuminating every crack and crevice. “Ryker? Ryker is behind this all?”
“Of course! Don’t you see?”
“What does JB stand for?”
Kenzie rummaged through ancient mental files, searching for that information. “Joseph something, I think.”
“Joe. I sure called Joe, didn’t I?” He shook his head, mumbling to himself. “This is getting out of hand. We’ve got to get you into protective custody at the safe house.”
“No. Not yet.”
Myles began pacing the tiny room from the bed to the wall. Then from the table to the door. He made a square in the carpet and walked it over and over. His fingers tunneled through his hair and yanked wildly, as though trying to pull out every strand. He growled. “But what if it goes higher than Ryker?”
“How could it?”
“I’m not sure, but something feels off. What’s in it for Ryker? What possible motive can he have for wanting you out of the way?”
Good question. Even better, she knew the answer.
“Myles, it’s all here in the newspaper article. It explains everything.”
He leaned over the newspaper, still open on the little table. The single floor lamp illuminated just enough space for them to read it again. The muscles of his arms bunched and flexed beneath his lightweight shirt as he leaned over the paper.
“I’m not sure that I follow,” he mumbled after finishing the article for the second time and noticing the large full-color ad paid for by Mac’s campaign fund.
Kenzie sighed, emotionally drained and suddenly physically exhausted. She sank to the corner of the bed and rested her knees on her elbows. “This is about the money. It’s always about money. That article says that the education reform has a lavish budget. That’s some pretty awful reporting, if it’s incorrect. Besides, Claudia Suarez backs up that statement, saying that too much money is being spent on the prison education system.
“Like I said before, there is very little overhead for prison education. And the budget I was given by JB is anything but lavish. Somewhere between the state budget and the prison budget, money is disappearing. And I’d bet my right hand it’s ending up in the superintendant’s pocket.”
Myles nodded, not looking completely convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest and rested against the edge of the round table. “But how does your kidnapping and murder fit into that plan? How does removing you from the situation help Ryker? Were you close to discovering any of this back at the prison?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. I had no idea that there should have been more money for the program. But maybe…I guess I could have been closer to it than I thought.”
“Did Ryker ever say anything to you about the budget? Did he ever try to feel you out, to see what you might know about it?”
“Not exactly.”
Myles scrubbed his face with open palms and scowled. “What exactly did he say to you?”
“Well, both years he gave me a copy of my budget for supplies, notebooks, workbooks, stuff like that. And he always reminded me that it was highly confidential information. He never came right out and threatened me, but I always got the impression that if I spilled any of the information that even my connection to Mac wouldn’t be enough to keep my job.”
Saying it aloud now made Kenzie cringe. How had she never realized what a dangerous man JB could be?
“I don’t see it. I just don’t see how that’s enough to make him want you dead.” He shook his head and slouched lower, his shoulders sinking under the weight of the world.
Kenzie rubbed her chin. “A couple weeks ago, I told JB that I was going to petition the state legislature for more money in next year’s budget. And I brought it up again when Mac came to visit the prison. Do you think he was worried that I would figure it out?”
“Could be. But what did he mean about not disappointing Mac?”
“Mac’s not a fool. He wouldn’t expect me to be returned alive, especially if there was no ransom note. He’s probably already grieving with Nana, preparing her for what he assumes the police will find.”
There, that was logical. Myles could argue all he wanted and look as dubious as ever, but the truth was evident. JB Ryker had tried to have her killed, and they had to focus on getting him arrested.
“We know that JB is behind this,” Kenzie said. “Aren’t you going to call up your supervisor and have him arrested?”
“I will, but we also need some proof.”
“What kind of proof?”
Myles’s lips pursed to the side. “A copy of the budget Ryker gave you, to start with. Not the official one, but the doctored budget to reflect the smaller allowance to the program.”
“Fine. I can get that.”
Eyebrows shooting almost to his hairline, he asked, “How do you plan to do that?”
“I’ll go back to my classroom at the prison, of course.”
“Over my dead body!” His face turned beet-red, and she could almost see the steam billowing out of his ears.
“How else do you plan to get the information we need? I can get the prison budget from my desk, and I’ll just ask Mac for a copy of the state budget.”
Myles growled again, this time low in his throat, almost from his chest. “We’ll send someone from the bureau in to get your budget. There’s no need for you to go back.”
“Why shouldn’t I go back?” Knowing she had him beat again, Kenzie smiled. “I’ll steer clear of JB and make sure I stick close to someone else so I’m never alone.”
He shook his head and began pacing again. “And how do you plan to return to the prison? Are you just going to waltz in after being gone for over a week? Won’t they ask some questions?”
She shrugged. “I’ll have to start in Salem. I’ll start with Mac.”
“And what are you going to say?”
“I don’t know.” And she really didn’t have a clue. “We’ll figure it out on the trip tomorrow.”
“I’m not sending you back into that prison.”
Kenzie just shot him the same smile that had been winning arguments since their prison break.
The Greyhound bus rocked slightly as the round driver walked up the steps and slipped behind the huge steering wheel. The engine roared to life, rattling every inch of the monster. With a loud swoosh the airbrakes released, and they began their journey toward Salem.
Myles looked down at the bill of the baseball cap covering Kenzie’s face. She slouched low in the uncomfortable gray seat and remained silent for the first time in twenty-four hours. Well, that was a slight exaggeration. But the silence was a welcome relief.
Minutes ticked by slowly into half hours, then hours. The high desert landscape zipped along outside the windows, slowly changing to a more lush, green setting. But each time he checked his watch, it was only one minute later than the last time, and they were still miles from where they needed to be. Miles from the place where they would finally be able to put everything to rest.
The nearly deserted Greyhound was relatively quiet, in as much as the only other passengers were at least three rows ahead or behind them on both sides of the aisle. A man across the aisle and
about four rows ahead of them seemed to be having an animated conversation with his seatmate, but his voice did not carry to them.
Myles had carefully, yet surreptitiously, surveyed all fourteen of the other passengers when they boarded the bus. And assuming that his law enforcement senses were not dulled by weeks of undercover work, injury or the crazy woman beside him, he felt certain that no one was a threat to Kenzie or him. The single mom holding her baby sat three rows ahead of them. Two teenagers sat in the very back row, most likely enjoying the privacy that location afforded.
But Myles picked the best seat on the bus. Perfect vantage point of the front door and the large mirror in front of the driver’s seat. The row with the emergency window, in case they needed to make a fast break.
If only it were more comfortable. But nothing could be done about the horrid seats on the bus. The built-in lumbar support always hit him in the wrong part of the back, making it impossible to sleep through long trips.
At that moment, the only comfortable thing about the trip was the feel of Kenzie’s slender shoulder leaning into his arm. Her chin tucked into her chest and her face hidden by the ball cap, he could only appreciate the unseen things about her. She smelled like earth and rain and a touch of lingering citrus—not overly flowery like so many women. An indefinable strength flowed through her shoulder and into his arm. The same strength that persuaded him time and again to do things he should have refused her.
He should have left her at the safe house. He should have stopped himself from kissing her. He should have told her they needed to wait before going to Salem.
So many should haves.
Yet somehow, he just could not say no when she dug her heels in. It was that strength that warmed his arm now.
You must have been a terror as a child, he thought. I almost feel sorry for Mac and your grandma. What on earth did you put them through? I bet you were just smart enough to get out of every scrape that you got into. And I bet all you had to do was bat those big gray eyes at Mac and he crumbled.
But why isn’t he crumbling now? Where has he been while you’ve been in imminent danger for over a week? How could anyone who loves you not come to your rescue immediately? How could anyone not love you, my Sweet and Spicy Kenzie?