For the Love of Pete

by Julia Harper

  Zoey did. Her first loyalty was to Pete and her sister, Nikki, plain and simple.

  And yet she still felt guilty. Dante had trusted her. He’d told her to stay in the car while he went out to face gunfire. She’d lied to him, betrayed his trust, and stolen Pete. By now he might very well be in the back of a patrol car under arrest. She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. Well, it was over and done now. There was no going back—Dante would never trust her again after this.

  She straightened and twisted to look into the back seat. The babies were both slumped in their car seats, having cried themselves to sleep. Pete’s head was tilted to the side, one finger caught in her mouth. Small pink lips pursed around the digit. Neil Junior’s chin was on his chest, both pudgy baby hands stretched on either side of his car seat, limp. Zoey found herself almost smiling. He looked like a passed-out drunk. What was she going to do with him? He wasn’t hers to take care of. He had parents—presumably. Or at least a homicidal father who wanted him back. The last thing she needed was to give Neil Senior another reason to follow her. If only there was someone to care for the baby, just for a little while. Someone who would look after—

  A cell rang in the car, a tinkling melody. Zoey looked wildly around before realizing that there was a cell in the console. She picked it up and looked at the screen. It read SAVITA, except Mrs. Savita Gupta didn’t have her cell phone at the moment.

  Zoey answered. “Hello?”

  “Where are you, Zoey?” Dante’s voice was quiet, which only made her nervous.

  She closed her eyes, relief washing over her. “Dante. You’re okay.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Now tell me where you are.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you take her back.”

  “Jesus, Zoey. You knew I needed to bring Pete back to Chicago so Ricky can testify. I’ll be taking her to Nikki Hernandez, as well. Don’t you want Pete to be with her mother?”

  “I want Pete alive, and I know Nikki wants that, too.”

  “I’ll keep her safe, Zoey.”

  “You didn’t before.”

  There was silence from the other end. Zoey closed her eyes. God, she hadn’t wanted to say that, but it was true. The FBI had failed Pete, failed her. That was how Pete had ended up with a gunman in the first place.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Zoey,” he said low, “don’t do this.”

  She inhaled. “What happened after I left?”

  “Neil carjacked a pink Cadillac, and what looked like most of the Illinois highway patrol took off after him.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Just my feelings.”

  She winced. “How did you get out of there?”

  “There was enough confusion that I slipped away and drove off when the highway patrol went to question the guy with the two boys. I didn’t think it was a good idea to stay and get picked up by local law enforcement. My BMW has a bullet hole in the passenger-side door now, by the way.”

  “That was there from yesterday.”

  “Really? You didn’t tell me.”

  “I forgot.”

  There was a brief silence on the line, and the wind whistled past the doors of the purple minivan.

  “Zoey, bring her back,” Dante said.

  “I need to keep her safe. Chicago isn’t safe for Pete.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  “You can’t.”

  “You mean you don’t believe I can.”

  She was silent, because there really wasn’t anything to say to that, was there?

  She heard him sigh. “Please, Zoey.”

  She inhaled to steady her voice. “I’m sorry.”

  And she hung up.

  She stared at the cell phone in her hand for a moment. Then she inhaled and punched in a number.

  The other end rang five times before Nikki answered. “Hello?”

  “Nikki, I’ve got Pete.”

  “Zoey?” Nikki’s voice sounded dazed. Then she seemed to understand. “You have Pete? Oh, God. Oh, God.” She started crying.

  Zoey blinked hard, staring out the window of the van. “Are you okay?”

  “Okay?” Nikki choked. “Yeah, we’re okay. How’s my baby? Is Pete okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine.”

  “God. I’ve got to tell Ricky. Wait until he hears—”

  “Nikki, you can’t tell Ricky.”

  “What? Why not? You should see Ricky, he’s been so sad without the baby.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes at that. Ricky-the-jerk had never been particularly loving with Pete before. “You can’t tell Ricky because I’m not bringing Pete back to Chicago.”

  “What do you mean—”

  “Shhh. Listen. The FBI’s crooked in Chicago. We can’t trust them to keep Pete safe.”

  “But Zoey,” Nikki said quietly, “Ricky’s told me he won’t testify unless he can see Pete with his own eyes. You keep her away and he’s not going on the stand.”

  Zoey swallowed. “I know the trial is important. I know Tony the Rose is an evil man. But Pete’s safety has to come first.”

  “And how’re we going to keep her safe by ourselves?”

  That had been something she was worried about, too, but Zoey kept her tone brisk. “I’ll hide Pete. It’ll be okay.”

  “But—”

  “You can’t tell Ricky, though. If anyone finds out where I am—where Pete is—she’s in danger again.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Nikki?”

  “I just want to see Pete.”

  “I know, honey, I know. But she’s safer this way. If I bring her back to Chicago, we can’t protect her.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. But you can’t tell Ricky.”

  A long sigh.

  “Nikki?”

  “Okay. Okay. I won’t tell Ricky. But Zoey, you’ve got to promise to keep her safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Kiss her for me,” Nikki whispered. “Tell her I love her.”

  Zoey closed her eyes. “I will.”

  “Bye.” There was a click as Nikki hung up.

  God, what had she done? Zoey leaned her head against the seat back and watched the snow blow across a field. The wind knocked against the purple minivan, rattling it. It looked like another snowstorm was brewing. Was this the right choice? Dante was strong and determined, and she knew that if it was in his power he would keep Pete safe. But it hadn’t been in his power before, and if he took Pete back to Chicago, at some point it wouldn’t be in his power again. Her real problem was that she didn’t trust his instincts, didn’t trust his decision to take Pete back to Chicago. Maybe she couldn’t let herself trust him.

  Or anyone but herself.

  What a thought. But this wasn’t the time to sit debating whatever emotional baggage lay inside her. She had two babies in the back seat, bad guys and one really good guy after her, and no plan.

  Okay. The first thing to do was to find a safe place for Neil Junior. Someone who would take care of him temporarily until Dante or social services could take the child. And now that she thought of it, she already knew the right person. The Gupta ladies were still at their nephew’s motel, and Mrs. Savita Gupta had obviously been sad to see Neil Junior go. Zoey could drop Neil Junior there and then call Dante and let him know where the baby was when she was far enough away.

  Zoey looked around. She was in a little wooded area off some kind of farm field. She’d left the highway as soon as she could after escaping with the babies. If she headed to the motel again, it would be best to do so without getting back on the highway. The motel was west of where the van sat, but these back roads twisted, not always going straight west or north.

  Zoey reached over and popped the glove compartment. An avalanche of papers fell out onto the floor of the van. She whispered a curse and started sorting through them. Car maintenance bills, insurance forms, and the manual to the minivan. No maps.

&n
bsp; She got out and went to look in the back of the van. The snow was about a foot deep, compacted by the wind and crusted. Her boots crunched through the top crust unevenly, and she held on to the van’s sides to keep her balance as she made her way to the hatch. Inside the back were a big bag of disposable diapers—hallelujah!—a small cardboard box with Indian writing on the back, an old blanket, and a giant bag of kitty litter. Crumpled under the diapers was an Illinois state highway map. Ha! She grabbed the map, shut the hatch, and waded back to the driver’s-side door. When she looked in the back, Pete had turned her head to the other side, but both babies were still asleep.

  Zoey fastened her seat belt and started the engine.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Saturday, 8:45 a.m.

  Rutgar drove down the flat highway toward Cairo and thought about his favorite subject.

  Guns.

  In Poland, where he had grown up in a colorless rat-infested tenement, one was not allowed to own guns. The communist government forbade it. This was not to say that there were not men who possessed guns, for there were. Hard men, men who ruled the tenements like barbarian kings. But even these men had access only to old guns. Guns that had been made in the old Soviet Union. Their guns were not like the guns one could own in America.

  In America one could be a connoisseur of guns.

  The first time that Rutgar had attended an American gun show, his heart had stood still in his body. There were many guns there. Thousands of guns. Perhaps millions of guns. Guns manufactured to shoot wild elephants. Guns so small one could fit them entirely in one’s mouth like a hard candy. Guns with scopes and tripods and silencers. Guns made by armies, and guns made to defeat armies.

  America was rich with guns, Rutgar thought. He smiled a small smile.

  He drove south toward the state of Missouri, although that was not his destination. The car he drove was a black Mercedes-Benz G500 SUV. It was a big car. It was an expensive car. If Rutgar could take this car across the ocean to Poland, to that dirty tenement he had grown up in, those barbarian kings would bow down to him. He would be the king of all the barbarian kings.

  But there was nothing in Poland, so he did not do this.

  He had a job to do. Tony the Rose had told him that Neil Janiowski had followed the two Indian women to southern Illinois. Everything else Rutgar had needed to know he’d found very quickly. The trail that Neil had left behind him had been easy to trace; the people he’d asked about the women were easily convinced to talk when a knife was pressed to their throat. Perhaps Neil was too stupid to know to cover his tracks. It did not matter. Rutgar knew the cars the two old women might be driving, the people they knew and would feel safe with, the places they might run to hide.

  Not that hiding from him would do them any good. He had guns. They did not. His guns were: a semiautomatic Glock, a sawed-off shotgun fitted with a pistol grip, a military-grade sniper’s rifle with night scope and laser sight, and a subcompact Beretta. He wore the Beretta in a leather holster on his right hip. Like Han Solo, perhaps.

  He looked in the side mirror before passing a semi. The semi was going maybe fifty-five mph. Thus Rutgar could easily pass the truck without going over the speed limit. It was important not to arouse suspicion.

  Rutgar smiled a small smile as he drove.

  Chapter Forty

  Saturday, 9:42 a.m.

  Thank God for gas stations that took credit cards at the pump. Zoey winced, watching the numbers flicker rapidly by as she pumped. Looked like minivans took considerably more gas than Priuses. She was aware that using the credit card might alert somebody to her location, but she wasn’t about to leave the babies in the car by themselves to go into the station to pay. Using a credit card was a risk she’d just have to take.

  They were somewhere south of Carbondale, closer to the interstate than she wanted to be, since that was where the gas stations were to be found. Zoey wasn’t exactly sure of their location because as it turned out, her directional skills even with a map were kind of sketchy. She should’ve found Mr. Agrawal’s motel already. Instead, she’d gone in circles—or maybe squares—on back roads so small they didn’t even have names. Hence the need to stop for gas.

  The gas nozzle started gurgling, signaling that the tank was nearly full. Zoey stepped back, wary of being splashed, and waited for the last gurgle before taking the nozzle out of the gas tank and returning it to the pump. She grimaced when she saw the total. Sheesh. At this rate she was going to max out her credit card. And considering that she seemed on indefinite hiatus from her job at the whole-foods store, that was a serious worry.

  Zoey considered her job—and whether she still had one—as she walked to the windshield squeegee thingy. They were at a little gas station—only four pumps—and the wind was whipping across the frosty asphalt. The convenience store next to the gas station looked like the kind that would have ancient peanuts and candy bars and a ladies’ room that would make you want to put paper on the toilet. Just as well she hadn’t used it.

  A huge, square black SUV pulled up to the pump across from the purple minivan. Zoey poked at the dark blue water in the little squeegee box—it looked viscous. The windshield wipers on the purple minivan were worn and worked only intermittently. The windshield had a gray film from salt, dirt, and snow spray, and it was getting close to opaque. Zoey walked back to the van with the squeegee as a young guy got out of the black SUV. He had ash blond hair and was wearing a brown leather jacket. Wow. The jacket probably cost a couple thousand dollars. Maybe he was the local drug pusher. Zoey watched him stroll into the dinky convenience store as she gingerly washed the windshield. These communal washer thingies always gave her the heebie-jeebies. Who knew how many mashed-up bug guts were in the dark blue soup?

  Zoey finished washing the windshield and the back window before the guy came out again. She threw the squeegee back in the icky water as he started pumping gas. He’d never looked in her direction, but something about the guy made her nervous. Zoey trotted back to the minivan and got in. The babies were still asleep in back, but she knew from experience that wouldn’t last long. She needed to get Neil Junior to the aunties so both babies could have something to eat and a chance to move around.

  On that thought, she started the van and pulled away from the pump.

  The blond guy looked up. She shuddered, looking away quickly, but not before she’d seen his eyes.

  They were pale gray.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Saturday, 11:16 a.m.

  Dante stared at the two elderly ladies and felt his blood pressure shoot through the roof. “She was here?”

  Mrs. Savita Gupta exchanged a look with Mrs. Pratima Gupta. The look clearly said, This man has lost his marbles. Possibly this was because he’d already asked the question three times since he’d arrived at their nephew’s motel.

  “Ye-es. Zoey left not half an hour ago. We fed the babies and cleaned them, and then she said she had to leave.” Mrs. Savita Gupta smiled. “It was very kind of her to bring back the boy baby.”

  Dante pressed two fingers to his pounding temple. Kind. Yeah, that would be the first word he would use to describe Zoey. Right before double-crossing,sexy, and a pain in the goddamn ass. How the hell had he not passed her on the highway?

  Some of his thoughts must’ve shown in his face. Mrs. Pratima Gupta leaned forward anxiously. “Would you like some tea?”

  Tea was the very last thing he needed, but it wasn’t the Gupta ladies’ fault he’d been a half step behind Zoey all morning. He’d been almost at the Cairo exit when he realized that there were highway patrol cars stopped ahead of him on the shoulder. That had necessitated a hasty exit to nowheresville and a stroll about the countryside before he could find another entrance to 57. By the time he’d gotten to the motel, he’d lost over forty-five minutes. Still, he’d held out hope that he’d find Zoey here. Now he wasn’t even sure where to look next.

  Dante found himself sitting on the saggy couch in Mr. Agrawal’s b
ack rooms with a mug of hot tea pressed into his hands. Mrs. Agrawal was in the kitchen doing something, and she flashed a shy smile at him. She probably thought he spent all of his time chasing crazy women with babies. The kids were in their usual spot, grouped in a tight knot in front of the TV with Neil Junior in the place of honor in front. For a moment, Dante was mesmerized by the flashing colors and boinking sounds. Neil Junior would probably fit right in here. He’d grow up watching cartoons and eating curried lentils and flatbreads, a blond cuckoo in another bird’s nest.

  Then Dante mentally shook himself.

  He looked up at the Gupta ladies, hovering solicitously. “Did she give you any idea which way she might be heading?”

  The ladies exchanged another look, then Mrs. Pratima Gupta said, “She did not say.”

  “But she still has your purple van?”

  “Our nephew’s purple van,” Mrs. Pratima Gupta corrected. “She said she’d bring it back to Chicago for us. We’ve decided to stay and visit with Rahul and his wife for a bit.”

  “We will bring back Neil Junior to Chicago when we return,” Mrs. Savita Gupta said. “Perhaps we can bring him to his mother. I do not like the father. Shooting at you! How awful!”

  “Yes, terrible,” Pratima Gupta said. “Until we return to Chicago, Neil Junior may visit with us. I believe he likes it here with our nephew’s children.”

  “Great.” Dante took a sip of hot tea. Wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

  Both ladies looked sad that they couldn’t help him, and Dante felt guilty for a moment.

  Mrs. Pratima Gupta perked up. “She brought us back our Grade 1A Very, Very Fine Mongra Kesar.”

  “Yeah? Hey, that’s good.” Zoey was dealing in illicit spices. Whoopee.

  Mrs. Savita Gupta cleared her throat. “I wondered . . . if you no longer need my cell phone, perhaps you could give it back?”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Pratima Gupta exclaimed. “I forgot to ask for my cell phone from the girl.”