“I want her gone, Lucas. If we return the money, she’ll be released, and she’ll come after you. But once she’s gone, we can talk about … well, the future.” She reached up to touch Lucas on the cheek, lightly. “Because we do have a future. I’m sure of it.”
She turned away and went back to cooking, beginning a long tirade about how no one in the music business had properly appreciated her genius. Lucas wore his best “you are the center of my universe” face, usually reserved for industry flacks and especially dull parties. It was working. He now knew that she had worked for his tour management company for several years before managing to get assigned to his tours, and had nearly been fired when she’d pushed too hard to get the job as Lucas’s tour manager. (“They lacked the vision to see what I could offer you, Lucas.”) Years. What had Lucas done in that time? Had he smiled at Sally in the wrong way? Flirted? He certainly had when she’d first joined the tour, but he did that to everybody—back then.
He was useless with his hands bound. If he were to have any chance to escape, he needed them free. He stood up and walked over to the counter where she was working. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He smiled. “I’m starving.”
She paused and studied him, trust and distrust chasing each other across her face. Finally she nodded and cut the rope binding Lucas’s wrists with the kitchen knife. She gestured toward the empty pot. “You could start the water boiling.”
Lucas stretched his aching shoulders and chafed at the wrist burn around his wrists, then leaned in and kissed her on the corner of the mouth.
“And what was that for?” She smiled up at him and he managed a return smile.
“For this.” He gestured at the table. “Not just dinner … I didn’t realize how badly I needed to get away. You can’t imagine how tedious it gets, having to smile, and pretend. Now, being here with you, getting away, it’s all I can think about.”
She preened before turning her attention back to her knife work, after rinsing the blade off in the sink. “I told you. I know you. I know exactly what you need.”
***
After supper, such as it was, Gwen sat cross-legged on her bunk and concocted fantasies of what she’d like to do to the woman who’d taken Lucas. Her original cell mates were gone, released, and as yet, she didn’t have another one. It was Saturday night, so she expected that wouldn’t last long.
She leaned her head back against the cinder block wall and thought of explosives and gunfire. Her main duty in Afghanistan had been to save lives and defend the wounded, but now she only had thoughts of inflicting pain. It should have frightened her. It didn’t.
“Tennison.” One of the guards was at her cell door. “On your feet.” It was late, close to eight PM. What could anyone want with her now? Had something happened to Lucas? She hopped off the bunk and turned around so the guard could handcuff her. If she’d ever thought handcuffs were sexy, she was off that idea for life now.
She knew better than to ask where they were going, but her curiosity shot through the roof when the guard was joined by a second, and the two of them escorted her out of the jail complex proper and loaded her into a van. “Where am I going?”
The first guard gave her a thin smile. “Court. You must have one hell of a lawyer.”
At first she thought she’d misheard. “That wasn’t until Monday.”
“Like I said, you’ve got one hell of a lawyer.” The van door slammed shut, leaving Gwen to slump against the wall behind her. The arraignment. They were taking her to the arraignment.
The hallways they led her through were empty, the offices dark. There was one courtroom lit, although it, too, was largely empty, but for a handful of people at the front. Harrison was on one side, and two people on the other, presumably from the prosecutor’s office. The judge was a disgruntled-looking woman. Gwen hoped that didn’t bode ill for her chances.
“All right,” said the judge. “Let’s get this going. Gwen Tennison, you have been charged with embezzlement and grand theft in violation of California penal code, sections 506 and 487. How do you plead?”
Gwen said, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
“Surprise,” the judge said dryly. “All right, anyone have thoughts on bail?”
The prosecutor stood up. “Your Honor, Ms. Tennison is a profound flight risk. She’s a UK citizen here on a work visa, but has no fixed address. In fact, she’s spent these past few months traveling around the country. She has no ties at all to the community.”
Harrison smiled thinly. “Your Honor, she’s been traveling around the country because that’s her job as a music tour manager. As to her address, Sergeant Tennison is currently on an extended leave from the Royal Army Medical Corps, and prior to her current job was deployed to Afghanistan, where she was wounded in action. Her sister is a permanent resident, and her employer. Despite the charge of embezzlement, her employer is prepared to provide a substantial bond on Sergeant Tennison’s behalf.”
“The State of California is pleased to let her, Ms. Harrison,” the judge said. “Bail is set at twenty thousand dollars, trial date will be set on Monday.” She brought the gavel down with a clack.
Gwen sagged. “Is that it? I can go?”
Harrison tucked her papers into her briefcase. “We’ll need to get the paperwork processed, but yes, once that’s done, you can go.”
“I don’t understand. I thought there was nothing you could do until Monday.”
“I didn’t do it. Your friend in the government did.”
“I don’t have a friend in the government,” Gwen said.
“Apparently you do,” Harrison said. They walked out of the courtroom side by side. Once they were down the hall, Harrison handed her a heavy manila envelope. “I was to give you this. Don’t open it until you’re released.”
Gwen could feel the shape of keys and what might be a mobile phone along with some paperwork. Her heart pounded, trying to figure out who the benefactor was. A friend of the Wheeler family, maybe?
The next hour was the longest of her life. Finally she was handed her belongings and released. The clothes she’d been wearing when she was arrested weren’t the cleanest, but they beat the orange jumpsuit.
She walked out of the courthouse with no idea what to expect. The clerk told her there was a train station not far away, and that could get her down to San Jose. She sat on the courthouse steps and opened the envelope.
Inside was a set of car keys and a mobile phone, as she’d suspected, along with a car registration for a blue Audi, a map, and a note.
Speed dial 1. You’ll reach me directly.
—LW
Gwen dialed, and Lee Wheeler answered. “Glad you’re out.”
“Lee? What’s going on? Have you found Lucas? How’d you get me out?”
“Hang on, I don’t have long. I’m about to get called on the carpet, so we have to make this quick.” She heard rustling of paperwork. “I’d be there if I could, but you’re going to have to do this yourself.”
“Do … what?”
“Your merchandising manager has gone missing.”
“Sally? You think she got taken too?” There wasn’t any word of two hostages, unless—no.
“The thing about having a brother who disappears on a regular basis, if you’re like me, is that you get paranoid. You might rerun background checks on everyone he knows. Did you know that Sally applied for your job and got turned down, twice?”
“No,” she said, remembering what Sally had told her about Lucas sleeping with all of his tour managers.
“And before that, she apparently begged to be put on his tour. She had a clean background, so Sam gave her the transfer.”
“It’s her?” Gwen shook her head. “It can’t be. The police talked to her after Lucas went missing. If she had him, wouldn’t she have stayed with him?”
“I found records of a house in San Jose that used to belong to Sally’s great-aunt. According to the records, it’s abandoned.”
Gwen trie
d to imagine it. Had Sally been jealous the whole time? It made sense. She’d know exactly where Lucas was all the time. The day someone grabbed him, she’d been right there in the lobby. She could have just let him go and walked away. Had she been wearing a disguise of some sort? “Where are they?”
“That Audi you’ve got the keys for is in the parking garage, on level 2. Your mission brief’s in the glove compartment, Sergeant.” His tone was light, but the meaning wasn’t.
Something clicked in Gwen’s head. “You’re my friend in the government, aren’t you?”
“Officially, no. Unofficially, I may not be for much longer depending on how this next meeting goes. I might’ve crossed a few lines.”
“He’s your brother,” she said.
“Yeah.” Lee paused. “Bring him home safe, Gwen.”
Chapter Sixteen
In the parking garage, Gwen kept hitting the unlock button until she heard a car chirp in response. The steering wheel was on the wrong side, but it had a manual transmission. She’d just have to figure out how to shift with her right hand instead of her left.
As promised, there was another folder in the glove compartment, and that wasn’t all. Hidden under the passenger seat was a box containing another Sig—probably not the one she’d left behind when she was arrested, but the same model—and extra ammo. She tucked it back under the seat.
Mission brief, indeed. Lee hadn’t been kidding. The folder gave her directions to the house in San Jose and explicit instructions on ways to break in silently. There was a bag of supplies in the trunk, including body armor.
You’re going to want to call the police, the brief read in part. Don’t unless you have to. They’ll just create a hostage situation and put Lucas in more danger. I trust you more than them.
Gwen shivered. She was on her own.
She met her own eyes in the rearview mirror and took a deep breath. I can’t do this. I have to do this. Her palms started to sweat against the steering wheel and her heart started to pound. She tried another deep breath. Whatever agency Lee worked for—CIA? FBI?—he had to know she’d never, ever come anywhere near training for covert operations. She was a medic, for Christ’s sake. They only gave her a gun for defense—and even there she’d failed miserably. He had to know about Janet.
The rage she’d felt sitting in her cell, the absolute readiness to do violence on Lucas’s behalf, seemed like a lifetime ago. She tried to remember it, tried to bring it back.
Lucas. He needed her.
Gwen took another deep breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled for a slow count of five. Then she opened her eyes and started the car. If she was lucky, she could get there before midnight.
***
“I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten onions cut into this shape before,” Lucas said with a laugh. There was a pile of spaghetti with red sauce on his plate, and he couldn’t taste it at all. They were seated across each other. Sally had even brought out candles and wine. He was still untied after helping with dinner, as if she had forgotten that he was her captive—a belief Lucas was working to strengthen.
“Don’t be rude,” Sally said. “That’s no way to talk to someone who’s made you a home-cooked meal. When was the last time you ate something that didn’t come from a box or a restaurant?”
“It’s been a while,” he admitted.
“You don’t eat enough, darling; you never have.” The possessiveness in her voice set Lucas’s teeth on edge.
“Maybe it’s because I didn’t have anyone to cook for me before.” He leaned against the table and smiled at her.
“Good thing you do now.” She leaned over and kissed him, and this time it was a lingering kiss. Lucas wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending. The ruse had stopped being about pure survival; instead he needed to lull her to distraction. “Now finish your dinner.”
***
The neighborhood was an abandoned housing development. Most of the houses had for sale signs out front, and most of the signs had the weather-beaten look of forlorn lost hope. Following Lee’s directions, Gwen parked the Audi at the end of the street and got out, grabbing the box with the Sig as she went. The trunk of the car was piled nearly full, as promised. On top was an armored vest, and Gwen’s heart started racing as soon as her fingers brushed the familiar material. Sliding the weight over her head made her palms sweat, and it felt heavier and tighter on her chest than it should have.
She managed the tape and straps with hands that almost didn’t shake. Once it was secure, she leaned over, pressing her palms into the edges of the trunk, her head down. Keep thinking of Lucas. Deep breaths, one after another, Lucas’s face in her mind. The fear subsided as Lucas’s face was replaced with Sally’s, smiling and always seemingly friendly. This time when her pulse started pounding again, it wasn’t fear.
The Sig came next, strapped to her waist, and she had a moment to be grateful that she’d been wearing backstage black when she’d been arrested. Bright colors would not serve her well right now. She picked through the black duffel, finding everything Lee had listed, making a note of each item, from the duct tape down to the extra ammo—then shouldered the bag and eased the trunk closed.
The right house wasn’t difficult to pick out; there was only one that had any lights on. The street was empty, but Gwen kept to the back gardens. There were no fences, and she had a clear line of sight down most of the street.
She paused when she was one house away. A large square of light fell on the dead grass of the back garden. A shadow of someone moving around passed through it. Lee’s instructions were to find out where they were in the house, then find the window farthest from it. She watched, fighting the urge to go bursting in. Lucas was close by. Was he hurt? Not knowing was doing her head in. She steadied herself and moved away from the lighted window.
On the far side, there was a smaller window, higher off the ground than the others. The glass was frosted—a bathroom, exactly what she wanted. Crouching down, she unshouldered the bag and started going through it, pulling out the duct tape and a utility knife. She covered the entirety of the glass with the tape, blocking it with a thick, silvery layer. There was a hammer in the bag, and a jacket she hadn’t needed. The latter served to muffle the sound of the former smashing into the tape. There was a faint crunch as the glass broke, but the tape held.
It took her a couple of tries to get a good grip, but one good yank later the shattered windowpane came out of the frame in a single tape-covered mass.
***
Lucas was being wooed, there was no mistaking that, nor was there any mistaking what Sally would expect after dinner. Ever since she’d untied him he’d been looking for a chance at escape. He’d missed one chance already by not flinging the boiling pot of pasta at her. He couldn’t nerve himself up enough to actually do it. He knew from watching her move around the kitchen that the gun was tucked into the back of her jeans. If only he could disarm her.
While he tried to force enough pasta into his stomach to make Sally happy, he tried to remember the things Gwen had taught him, and kept coming up empty. Think, damn it, think. All he could remember was Gwen telling him the importance of drilling what he had learned.
“Are you finished?” Sally asked.
He nodded with a smile. “Thank you so much.” He squeezed her hand. “For everything.” For a mad moment he thought about squeezing harder, as hard as he could. Maybe that would—then he remembered some of what Gwen had said about ways to incapacitate someone. He began to see a way to disarm her, maybe hurt her at the same time. He smiled brighter and let go of her hand.
When she reached for his plate, he caught her by the arm. Taking a deep breath, he put his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap.
Sally froze, likely in surprise. Good. The longer he could keep her off balance, the better. He leaned up and murmured in her ear, “I really do owe you for all of this, don’t you think?”
He felt her shiver, then she turned around to
face him. “Wh-what do you think you owe me?”
“I’d say a kiss—at the very least.” He tightened his arms around her waist. The grip of the gun brushed his fingertips. Almost there. He pressed his mouth to hers. Between his nerves and the sudden rush of revulsion, he worried he might vomit. He swallowed it down and let her kiss him back.
“Wow. I guess maybe I’m at the wrong house.”
At the sound of Gwen’s voice, everything slowed down. He grabbed for the gun at Sally’s back and missed. She jumped from his lap and twisted his arm behind him in the chair, both of them facing Gwen. She was stronger than she looked; his elbow and shoulder complained from the pressure she was putting to the hand behind his back.
Before he could even focus on the miracle of Gwen standing in the kitchen doorway, he felt the muzzle of the gun against his temple. He froze, almost afraid to breathe lest he set Sally off, or even so much as jog her finger on the trigger.
“Get out or I’ll kill him,” Sally said.
Gwen almost didn’t look like the Gwen he knew. She was in all black, wearing some sort of bulletproof vest and steadily aiming her gun at Sally. More than her clothes though, her face was blank and hard. It was an expression he’d never seen her wear before, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it again after this.
“You don’t want to kill him,” Gwen said.
“I will though. I’ll kill us both.” The muzzle dug into Lucas’s temple, the metal biting into his flesh. He grimaced, but tried not to wince. “Put down the gun or I will.”
Lucas’s skin crawled, and every moment he tried not to imagine what it would feel like if Sally fired, or if he would feel anything at all. Gwen met his eyes before her gaze flicked back to Sally.
“All right,” Gwen said, “all right.” She raised her hands, and keeping her eyes on Sally, she crouched and laid down the gun.
“Kick it away,” Sally ordered.
Gwen obeyed, her face still and blank. Lucas felt panic crawling up his throat. She looked at him again and he would have sworn the corner of her mouth twitched.
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