A Girl Undone

by Catherine Linka

  Streicker was egging Luke on in a way that made me nervous, taking advantage of how angry and lost Luke was right now, and encouraging Luke to ignore the dangers of what was facing us.

  “Is there someplace you’d like Luke and me to sleep?” I said.

  “There’s sheets and a blow-up mattress in the rear bedroom, but maybe you’d like more privacy?” Streicker tapped Luke on the calf. “You can sleep on one of the cots in the back building—”

  “Yeah,” Luke said, “I’ll be fine anywhere. You just—”

  “No,” I said. Streicker grinned behind his hand, but I was not going to let him separate us. “Luke and I can share. It’s no problem.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Well, I’m going to bed. You coming, Luke?”

  “No, not just yet.”

  The top left screen caught my eye, and I gasped. Yates was handcuffed to a wheelchair pushed by an ATF agent. “Suspect Taken to Prison Hospital.” Yates’ nose and eye were still purple and swollen, and his head had flopped to the side.

  “Looks like someone beat that poor bastard pretty bad,” Streicker said.

  “He hit a tree coming down the mountain,” I shot back. I stood up. “Good night.”

  If Luke had looked up, he would have seen how much I wanted him to come with me, but I refused to say it in front of Streicker.

  I retreated to the back bedroom and set up the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. There wasn’t any heat coming through the vents, but I would die of hypothermia before I’d ask Streicker to fix it. I curled up under the two blankets on the freezing air mattress and stuck my hands between my knees, trying to stay warm.

  Muffled sounds of basketball games and newscasts came through the closed door. Wind whooshed over the roof, and the window blinds sliced the security light outside into sharp shadows on the bare wall and floor.

  I didn’t know what to think. Luke was changing before my eyes, almost killing that man when he hit him with the pipe. And the way he acted out there just now, it was as if Luke wanted to learn everything he could from Streicker. Like he was Streicker’s apprentice.

  My knees ached from the cold. I slid my down jacket under the blankets and spread it over me. I wish I knew what to do.

  If only Yates hadn’t gotten hurt. If he and I were on the run together, things would be so different. We might have argued about what to do, but we would have worked things out. We would have decided together.

  Luke wasn’t asking my opinion or sharing his thoughts with me. He just expected me to do exactly what he thought we should do.

  If I stayed with Luke, Streicker could get us both killed. But how could I leave Luke alone with that man? Luke had never known anyone so—untrustworthy.

  Luke tiptoed into the room a few minutes later, slipped off his boots, and set them down.

  “I’m awake,” I said.

  “You having trouble sleeping?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “I’m sorry about Yates. It’s got to be hard to see him like that.”

  “At least I know he’s alive.”

  Luke eased down next to me on the blow-up mattress, and it swelled, rolling me up against him. He stretched out on top of the blankets. “You mind if I get under the covers? It’s freezing in here.”

  “No, it’s fine. Go ahead.” Goose bumps ran up my legs, but that was the cold. Luke wouldn’t try anything. He knew I loved Yates.

  Luke stripped off his belt and slid under the blankets. “Damn. No wonder you can’t sleep. Get closer so I can warm you up.”

  Coming from Luke, that didn’t sound sleazy. Heat radiated off his body, and I hesitated for only a second before edging up next to him. He wrapped an arm around me. “Go ahead and lay your head on my chest.”

  I relaxed into him, aware of how different his body was from Yates’. Yates was long and lean, his muscles toned from swimming, but Luke was broad-chested from years of chopping wood. I felt small, protected, beside him.

  “You warming up?” he said.

  “Yes, this helps.” It was quiet, and we were finally alone after a day that had been brutally long. “Were you watching the news?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anything about us?”

  “Nothing new—except they put out a description of me.”

  I lifted my head. “No!”

  “Relax. They called me a giant, and said I’m six four and two hundred and fifty pounds.”

  “But you’re not—”

  “I’m betting they talked to Jonas. I used to chase him around sometimes and pretend I was Goliath from the Bible story.”

  The sadness in his voice made me ache. “I’m sure Jonas didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay. Jonas sent the trackers down the wrong trail.”

  I laid my head back down. I’m worried about you. I wish I knew what’s going on inside you. “Luke?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay after what happened tonight—when we picked up Mikhaela?”

  He was completely still.

  “I didn’t expect you to hit that man so hard.”

  “He would have killed her.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I’m done with trying to work things out peacefully—at least where killers are concerned.”

  “But he—”

  “Avie. I’m tired. Can we go to sleep?”

  “Sure,” I whispered. “Good night.”

  Luke was so vulnerable. In the last few days, I’d realized that in some ways he was really innocent, like a little kid, and even though he was probably ten times as strong as I was, I needed to be alert and watch out for him.

  Hours later, I woke at the sound of tires crunching through the snow outside the window. The sky was still black, but I got up to look.

  The white van rolled slowly past, and I moved to the other window. Peeking through the blinds, I watched the van pull up to the fence circling the back building, where a man got out and unlocked the gate. He held it while the van drove through.

  Exhaust clouded my view of people exiting the van, but from their size and how they walked, I knew they were girls. They must have run into trouble getting over the border and turned around.

  I balanced on my toes on the icy floor. I heard the back door open, and a few seconds later, Streicker walked into the pool of light around the building. Glock and Luger trotted at his side.

  In the kitchen, the microwave hummed, telling me Lola was up. I waited at the window until Streicker reappeared, and then crept over and cracked open the hall door.

  I heard Streicker drop his boots, and Lola ask him something in her indecipherable language. “It’s all good,” he answered.

  It’s all good? If it’s all good, then why are the girls back?

  I strained to hear them, but couldn’t make out anything else they said. Finally, they padded back to Streicker’s bedroom and I lay back down beside Luke.

  He turned toward me in his sleep, and pulled me close, and I wrapped my arm over his. Luke was a good guy. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me if he could help it, but he wasn’t thinking clearly when it came to Streicker.

  I had to get Luke away from him. The sooner the better.

  17

  When we came into the kitchen the next morning, Streicker let us know that Maggie’s contact at the DOJ had disappeared five days ago during his regular evening run in Rock Creek Park.

  Lola set a tray of hot rolls on the stove to cool. She acted like she wasn’t paying attention, but she closed the oven extra quietly.

  “The timing’s interesting,” Streicker said. “You’re pinned down in the church with feds firing at you, and Maggie’s key contact at the Department of Justice goes missing.”

  First, Congressman Paul was mugged outside a bar, then Maggie’s secret ally went missing from a D.C. park. “This wasn’t random, was it?” I said.

  “Not likely.”

  Luke crossed his arms over his chest. His fists were clenched, and I could al
most feel him wanting to hit something.

  “Maybe we should rethink—” I offered.

  “Rethink?” Luke snapped.

  I shrank back.

  “You mean quit.” He shoved away from the table. “Give up trying to get justice for my family and trying to get rid of Jouvert and Fletcher and the rest of them.”

  “I’m not saying quit! But we can’t just show up in D.C. when we don’t have a clue who can help us.”

  Luke stomped out the door into the snowy field.

  Streicker raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He glanced at his phone. “Save me some food,” he told Lola, and headed out back.

  She passed me a roll and went back to scrambling eggs. The roll was hot and soft, but I could barely choke it down. I had to convince Luke that getting out of the country was the only choice that made sense right now.

  Lola piled the rolls into a plastic bin and put a lid on the huge frying pan. She was bringing breakfast to whoever was in the metal building.

  I had to see if Mikhaela had returned. “Let me help.”

  Lola said something that might have been thanks, and cracked a smile for once.

  None of the six girls who swarmed the table as Lola and I set down the food were ones I’d met last night. They were all older than me; I guessed early twenties, and they were laughing and joking with each other like they were on a vacation or a school trip, not trying to get to freedom. “So where are you from?” I said as I passed the jam and butter.

  “Red Deer in Alberta.”

  “I’m from Alberta, too. From Peace River.”

  “I’m not far from you. Grand Prairie.”

  “You’re all from Canada?” I said.

  Lola bumped me. “Sorry.” She scowled, and I backed away from the table.

  They came from Canada? Why? I saw a girl show off her nails, and heard two others describe the outfits they’d brought. A couple talked excitedly about the “auction,” and the contracts they’d signed with Streicker to get them husbands.

  I circled the table, clearing off the plastic forks and paper plates, and I could barely keep from screaming. Don’t you know what this country is like? Don’t you have a clue what you’ve done?

  I tossed the trash and realized I was standing next to a stack of boxes that weren’t there the night before. The labels were in French and English, and I saw they were morning-after drugs the Paternalists had outlawed in the U.S.

  My stomach twisted. These drugs, these girls. Luke needed to see this.

  “Can I have your attention?” Streicker announced.

  The girls quieted down. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to tell them to run.

  “We start filming in a couple hours and the auction will go live at six. Once your bids reach the reserve amount we’ve set for each of you, you are free to choose any bidder who has bid more than the reserve. You can view the profiles of each qualified bidder on our site and you’ll have two hours to review those profiles and make your selection. Any questions?”

  The girls peppered him with questions, and Streicker became charming, reassuring. I could see their faces light up, and one bounced in her seat when Streicker promised that at the end of the evening they would all have Contracts and be on their way to wedded bliss.

  “One last thing,” he said. “From now on you will be called by your American names—the ones on the birth certificates you received.”

  A rush of loathing mixed with admiration swept through me. Streicker had traded Mikhaela a Canadian passport for her birth certificate. His plan was brilliant: American girls out and Canadian girls in. I tossed the last of the trash, pulled on my jacket, and went outside.

  The sky was a chalky gray and clouds were building to the west. A few flurries drifted past. I made out Luke about half a mile away, walking the property.

  He wanted to right wrongs and bring Jouvert to justice, and, yes, I wanted to make Jouvert answer for his crimes, but we needed the right contact—someone who could get the evidence we were carrying to people who wouldn’t bury it.

  We’d reached the end of this road and unless we found a new one, we were done.

  Streicker came out of the metal building behind Lola, and I marched up to him.

  “Luke and I need to go to Canada,” I said. “We can’t force Jouvert out of power without the right contacts, and we can’t risk the feds catching us on the road with the evidence.”

  “Luke won’t leave this country,” he said slowly. “You know that.”

  “I’m trying to save him.”

  “That’s not how to save him.”

  “You don’t care if he gets killed.”

  “I care, but not the way you do.” He pursed his lips into a kiss.

  I felt heat rise into my cheeks, and I wheeled around and started for the house. Streicker was full of it; I wasn’t in love with Luke.

  “There’s some interesting chatter in D.C.,” Streicker called after me. “A rumor that a couple of reporters are investigating the homeless man who set himself on fire at the Capitol building.”

  I stopped in my tracks, seeing Sparrow flick the lighter.

  Streicker strolled up to me until he was closer than I liked.

  “These two reporters don’t believe Sparrow’s the crazy that the media claims she is. They think she was the protester at the Capitol that day, and they want to find the proof she said she had of Jouvert’s crimes.”

  I followed the black square of Luke’s jacket moving through the brush. He wouldn’t rest until he handed off the evidence. “But they’re just reporters. Won’t they end up dead?”

  “We’re all going to end up dead—someday.” Streicker jerked his head at Luke. “Here’s the deal. I’ll take you to Canada, but you have to tell Luke about the reporters.”

  “But if I tell Luke about the reporters, he won’t go.”

  Streicker grinned and leaned in until the tattoo on his neck was almost in my face. Blessed is he who shepherds the weak.

  “Take it or leave it, Avie. That’s the deal.”

  Screw you, I said with my eyes.

  Streicker walked away, whistling as he strolled through the brush in Luke’s direction.

  Bastard. I won’t help you get Luke fired up over a rumor and watch him charge off and do something crazy. I won’t be your pawn.

  Back inside the house, Lola was kneading bread. “Let me do that,” I said, needing to push something around so I wouldn’t do anything worse. Lola sat and silently sipped her coffee while I pummeled the dough.

  Then a stream of gunshots rang out, and I whipped my head up, trying to determine where they were coming from, but Lola merely pointed a finger at the window. I peeked through the curtains at the field outside.

  Streicker stood by, arms folded, while Luke fired away at a target with a semiautomatic. Luke blasted round after round, the sound so loud I felt it. I couldn’t look away. This wasn’t the Luke I once knew who’d stalk a deer and take it down with one clear shot. No, this Luke acted possessed.

  He lowered the semiautomatic, and Streicker traded him for a rifle with a long scope. I’d seen guns like this in movies. Snipers used them.

  Streicker ran up to the target, and I thought I saw him mark a spot on it before he ran back to Luke’s side.

  Luke lifted the rifle. He aimed at the target, stilled himself, then took the shot. The gunshot echoed through the house as Streicker whooped and clapped Luke on the back.

  I stomped back to the dough and hit it with both fists. I didn’t know what that was about out there, but this thing with Streicker and Luke had to stop. When Luke finally came inside, I dragged him into the back bedroom. “What’s going on between you and Streicker?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said. The door was shut, but I kept my voice down.

  “Yeah, well, what about you? Streicker told me you made a deal.”

  My cheeks flared, and I didn’t answer.

  “Let me guess,” Luke said. “H
e offered to take you to Canada.”

  “Not me, us! We’ve run out of options for now. We don’t have anybody we can trust to pass the evidence to.”

  “I am not out of options.” Luke said it so slowly, so defiantly, I almost stopped breathing.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You should go to Canada, Avie. Take your phone, and the hanging, and get them out of the country.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “You’re planning something. Tell me.”

  “It’s better if we split up.”

  “Why? Why is it better?”

  His jaw clamped shut and he stared past me.

  “Why?” I said. “Because I keep arguing with you about what to do?”

  He shook his head. “You got it all wrong.”

  “Then why? Are you afraid I’ll get hurt?”

  He blinked, and I realized what was really going on. “You’re planning something dangerous. So dangerous you don’t want me there.” When he didn’t answer, I moved in so he couldn’t escape me. “Luke, please. You’re scaring me. I need you to tell me what you’re going to do.”

  “There’s nothing to be scared about.”

  “Stop it. You’re up to something and—” The truth hit me in the gut. “Holy— You want to die!”

  He pulled away and my eyes filled. “Luke, no—”

  “Living, dying, they don’t matter so much anymore. Not when the feds are torturing my family.”

  I squeezed Luke’s arm so he’d look at me. “Beattie will keep Jonas and Sarah safe. She won’t let anyone hurt them. And Nellie and Rogan are strong. They’ll be okay.”

  “You go to Canada, Avie. You’ll be safe there.”

  “No. I refuse to listen to this.” Luke was losing it. I had to stop him from falling off the cliff.

  “Hey, Salvation’s on the news!” Streicker called out.

  Luke tried to shake me off, but I held on. “Wait. You have to promise me something before you go out there.”

  “What?”

  “Promise you won’t make any plans with Streicker without talking to me.”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean it.”

  Luke ripped his arm away. “All right. I promise.”

  The door slammed behind him. You think this is settled, but I’m not giving up. You are going to tell me what you’re up to.