by L. L. Muir
The co-pilot glanced at her, then looked away.
“Boone Field.” A self-deprecating laugh came out. “It’s like it was meant to be.”
“I can screw up the landing,” he said. “I can come back around and maybe land somewhere else—”
“No. It’s too late. All the pieces are in play, you see. Good guys. Bad guys. Destiny.” Fatalism was something she never allowed in her Keefer Boone stories, but this wasn’t a story. If she had the pilot turn away, they would either be shot out of the sky, or followed and arrested, only to end up being handed over to Lacrosse anyway. Unless Shawn had been dangling from the landing gear for five hours, there was no way he would be in Virginia already, so there would be no last minute, Jason Bourne-ish rescues.
She could only hope a couple brave fans—or rather, the brave parents of a couple of fans—might have brought a camera to the airfield. Maybe Lacrosse would find it a little harder than expected to sweep her under the rug.
“Last chance to change your mind,” the man said next to her. “Boone Field is down there. See the lights?”
They weren’t far.
“Yes, Cleary,” she said. “Land the plane.”
He sucked in a long, deep breath and nodded. She turned to stand.
“Wait. Look.”
It still seemed a long ways away, but a line of lights stretched out where the pilot pointed. She didn’t understand what had impressed him.
“For a small airfield, they have a lot of lights?”
He shook his head. “No. Those are cars. Headlights.”
So Lacrosse had an army waiting for them.
“I guess you’d better buckle up, Miss…”
“McDaniels,” she said, though it was a little late for introductions.
His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”
She shrugged her right shoulder, but it still hurt her left side. “No.”
“Damn it!”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I am going to be sick.”
She laughed. “That’s what I always say, but I never am. What is it?”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “I can’t believe… I helped them kill Keefer Boone.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The co-pilot’s joke was not appreciated.
“No time. Better buckle in up here,” he said.
She did as he suggested.
“I’m not dead yet, by the way,” she said, then held tight to the armrest while the ground came up to meet them. The landing gear touched down, bounced, then settled in earnest on the bumpy road.
“There’s a brace for the small gun,” the man said, “on Peter’s ankle.”
She didn’t have to be told twice, but she ended up crawling along the floor to reach the unconscious man, the road was so bumpy. Her wound let her know just how many rocks there were on the small runway. By the time she stopped crawling, she could feel her skin growing wet around the bandages. The co-pilot’s gun cut into her waist, so she unloaded it and tucked it beneath the nearest seat. The magazine she slid across the aisle and under another.
Dorothy Jean offered to help, but Macey told her to stay put.
It took far too long to get the little holster off Peter’s ankle and onto hers, but the plane was still moving, though slowly, when she got her butt into her seat.
She tucked Kofford’s gun down the back of her pants and covered it with her shirt. Dave’s gun she held onto.
The co-pilot shut down the engine, and eventually opened the hatch, and lowered the steps. He held up an arm to shield his eyes, then glanced back at her with regret on his face.
She gave him a small nod.
Dorothy Jean stood up and smiled. “I have an idea.”
Macey laughed. “Yeah? Is it a good one?”
The woman wrinkled her nose. “Why don’t you threaten to shoot me in the head?”
Macey rolled her eyes because it didn’t involve moving her body. “Because they’ll shoot me in mine.”
“Ah. Then let’s not try it.”
Together, they stepped into the doorway as two men in suits hit the first stair. They stopped when she waved her gun at them. The crowd gasped.
There was a crowd.
The bright lights were blinding, but once she put her free hand over her eyes, she could make out hundreds of people standing fifty yards from the plane, on the far side of a chain-link fence. Not just a couple—but hundreds! And they weren’t Lacrosse’s people. They weren’t wearing army fatigues or SWAT uniforms.
They stared in silence while she and Dorothy Jean made it to the bottom step, then they erupted with excitement the second the two women made it to the ground. She tried to straighten her hair, but quickly gave up, figuring if they couldn’t tell how bloody she was, they wouldn’t care about other details.
Lacrosse stepped out from the mass of dark suits standing to their right. “Don’t let it go to your head, Miss McDaniels.” He grinned just like she remembered. “Your fans can’t help you.”
Brave talk, when she was the one holding the gun. But she didn’t dare aim it at him with everyone watching. Besides, now that her eyes were adjusting, she realized about fifty guns were aimed at her, by officers from half a dozen different departments. All eyes were on Lacrosse. They were waiting for him to allow them to shoot. But as long as Macey was standing next to the seemingly delicate Dorothy Jean Lyman, Lacrosse wouldn’t do anything shocking.
The fans seemed to think it was a publicity stunt, in spite of her message. She just hoped they kept their phones and cameras recording either way.
Just like her heroes, she’d dug down deep, found something within, and saved herself. Although, they weren’t actually going to save her. More like they were going to salvage a little of the rebellion Shawn had started.
She opened her mouth to address her rescuers, but a suit stepped in front of her. Without hesitating, he took Dave’s gun from her. Another man stepped up behind her and searched her until they found Kofford’s weapon stuck in her jeans. Then that weight was lifted away. Two men in scrubs appeared with a wheelchair and helped Dorothy Jean into it, chatting cheerfully, probably to keep her calm.
The police and sheriff’s deputies never lowered their weapons. Lacrosse took hold of Macey’s elbow and led her ten feet away from the old woman. Those weapons moved accordingly. And still, her fans stood their ground, waiting for something exciting, probably doubting those guns were real.
“Our researchers wouldn’t be happy if your foolishness got Mrs. Lyman killed,” Lacrosse said quietly.
She forced herself to stay calm with all those eyes watching. “They’re just going to kill her anyway,” she whispered. “I’m sure she’d rather die for a good cause, like exposing you.”
Beyond earshot, Dorothy Jean smiled and waved to the crowd. Many waved back.
“Expose me? To whom?” Lacrosse sneered. “To them?” He waved an arm to encompass both her fans and the officers. “I could have them all mowed down in a hail of gunfire and tell the world you’d lured them here to see them die.” He ran his hand across the sky like he was reading a headline. “Wounded writer loses mind, murders adoring fans and security detail.”
What was he, seventy?
“Headlines? Really, Lacrosse? Are you sure?” She almost laughed. “I mean, look at all those phones. All those cameras. How many do you think are streaming live right now? How many of them have telescope microphones? How many viewers, on every screen in America, are standing right here with the two of us, listening to every word, watching your face twitch?”
His face twitched at the suggestion.
“You can’t hide now, Lacrosse.”
He laughed, completely unmoved, thoroughly amused. “I don’t have to hide. Look closer, Mortimer Coffee. These aren’t just the parents of your adoring fans.”
He stepped back so she could see the crowd again. She was sickened before she ever looked. It was the middle of the night, but there were probably a hundred li
ttle faces peeking out between the bodies of the adults. They’d brought their children. Were they out of their minds?
Maybe, instead of posting that it wasn’t a hoax, she should have insisted it wasn’t a publicity stunt. Were they expecting a midnight book signing or something?
How many times had she hidden from small faces? How she wished she could hide from them again!
“That’s right, Miss McDaniels,” Lacrosse whispered into her ear so quietly no one could have overheard. “I’ll kill them all if you don’t spin this my way. I’ll give you thirty seconds to think of something. Tell them it was all a publicity stunt and be convincing. Then you and Dorothy will follow my…rhinoceri…to the cars and wave goodbye. Got it?”
She couldn’t move. She didn’t dare breathe. He was right. She’d lured them there. She should have thought it through instead of spending time imagining Shawn coming to her rescue. Everything she’d done while in the air had been in vain. Shawn had been right. Lacrosse had all the power in the world. They’d been doomed from the start.
Lacrosse sighed impatiently. “Twenty-five seconds.”
“Shawn Parker still has the duck. The duck with the stolen files on it.”
He looked only slightly interested. “Where?”
She grinned. “No clue. But he’d probably trade you for Dorothy Jean.”
“Not negotiable. Twenty seconds.”
“I suggest you keep your options open—and alive—until you hear an offer.”
“You now have seventeen seconds to start placating the crowd or they die.”
She closed her eyes to stop the madness. She’d played the ace, but she’d done it all wrong. The threat of it being out in the world somewhere, in Shawn’s hands, should have at least made him nervous.
She had no choice but to do what he ordered, and quickly.
“Thirteen seconds.”
“All right. All right.”
He handed her a bullhorn and pointed to the trigger.
“My friends!”
They cheered.
“I’m so grateful you got my message!”
They cheered again. She thought as fast as she could. The pain in her side was just a wall she had to break through!
Think, think, think.
“As you’ve probably guessed, I thought it would be a great idea to test out my next villain with your help. Meet Vasco Lacrosse, the man I’ve based that villain on, the secret head of the Underworld Health Organization. I call it, U-WHO.”
They cheered like mad. Lacrosse stretched out his hand for the bullhorn, but she pulled it out of his reach.
“I have to make it line up with the post they read,” she hissed. “You said to be convincing.”
He glared at her, shaking his head, but he stopped reaching for the bullhorn.
“That’s right. In Keefer Boone’s search for Atticus, he and his friends are going to have to go somewhere they’ve never gone before—underground. The next portal for Keefer is Bug World. And U-WHO is being run by Vasco, an insane Spanish Beetle who would be more than happy to make sure Keefer never again sees the light of day.”
Lacrosse’s brow furrowed with what appeared to be disappointment. “A beetle?”
Macey grunted. “Look, the books are for kids. And I’m spinning this just as fast as I can, so give me a break.” She turned back to her fans. “So what do you think? Does Bug World sound all right?”
The crowd cheered. She was sorry she didn’t have anything better to give them for turning out in the middle of the night for something they could more easily have read online, but it was a damn sight better than getting slaughtered by Vasco and friends.
Lacrosse seemed appeased.
And for the sales pitch…
“So, watch for the next adventure of Keefer Boone and the Gladiator Diaries to be released in the spring. If you don’t see it in stores by June, you’d better start asking the authorities what they’ve done with me. And don’t worry. That whole thing about being wanted for questioning was just a stunt to let the cat out of the bag about Mor Coffee really being a woman. With the power of the internet, it was only a matter of time before you all figured it out.”
The officers started lowering their weapons, but they didn’t appear ready to put them away.
There was laughter and a final round of applause while she and Dorothy Jean were taken to separate town cars. They were given no chance to say good-bye. Dave and Kofford rode with Dorothy Jean. Two of the dark suit guys sat to either side of Macey. Thankfully, Lacrosse traveled in a third car and she didn’t have to watch him stare at her the entire ride. As they drove away, she waved out the back window until one of the suits told her it was tinted and no one could see her.
Her heart stopped when they slowed to turn at the fence and passed a couple of Duck Dynasty wannabes chatting with the guard at the gate. They raised their beers as the car went by. If Shawn had been one of them, she couldn’t tell. But she doubted he would have used the same disguise twice, especially with Lacrosse around.
When her car entered the highway, she felt herself drifting off and wondered if she would wake up dead. It brought a smile to her face when she imagined how disappointed Lacrosse would be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“The blood was a nice touch,” Lacrosse said with his strange accent as he entered the small office where Macey had been handcuffed to a table.
“Complements of Dave Wells,” she said. She didn’t know why she should convince the man to give Dave credit for wounding her instead of Kofford. It just popped into her head.
“While it is a shame he was unable to keep a hold of Parker, I now don’t mind so much that I gave him back his sister.” He sat on the corner of the desk and looked down at her. “A pity we spent so much time in Washington State or sweet Allison might have had the chance to…know me better.”
Dave had his sister back? At least someone had some good news.
“Great,” she said, trying to sound alert. “Now, let’s make a deal.” She was absolutely exhausted and worried she was losing too much blood, but she was pretty sure Lacrosse wasn’t going to allow her to die that easily. And knowing he wanted her alive, at least for a while, gave her the courage to say whatever she wanted. “What’s it going to take for you to let Mrs. Lyman return to her daughter?”
He shook his head. “Priceless.”
“I mean it. What could I offer you to make that happen?”
“You misunderstand.” He leaned down and looked from one eye to the other. “There is no price for such a favor.” He sounded a bit more Spanish when he spoke softly. “You have nothing to offer, Miss McDaniels.”
It was hard to listen closely with what seemed like a second heart pounding in her side—a heart with giant slivers in it. But she knew she needed to stick up for herself.
“I kept the woman calm, like Wells instructed. That should earn me something.”
Lacrosse smiled his sick smile. “I can make you a promise.” He held up his finger and thumb with an inch showing between them. “You will be getting every little thing you’ve earned since the day we met in Salt Lake City. Believe it.”
She touched her free hand to her wound and raised it for a close look at her wet fingers. Lacrosse stood and backed away from her like he worried she’d wipe it on him. Then he was distracted by his phone ringing.
“What is it?” he said to the caller. His eyes widened. “What do you mean it didn’t arrive? The car or the old woman?” He glared in her direction for a full minute while he listened. Finally, he turned aside. “Find them.” He looked at his phone, then pushed a couple numbers before putting it back to his ear. “I want someone to pick up Lyman’s daughter. And find Wells. He and Parker have retaken the old woman. Get his sister back too.” He inhaled a ragged breath, but that was the only indication Lacrosse wasn’t as cool and calm on the inside as he seemed on the outside. “I want a dozen men down here immediately. I will be damned if he gets his hands on this one.”
&nb
sp; Macey’s ability to exhale ceased when she’d heard “Parker.” Was it true?
“It seems I’m going to have to keep you alive for a while, Miss McDaniels. Your boyfriend is trying to cause problems again, so I shall have to make certain he knows you’re paying dearly for his interference.”
Shawn was alive!
“You mean Shawn?” She had to make sure.
“Yes. It seems Parker’s altruism is spreading among my men like a virus. I should have squashed him…like a beetle…when I had the chance at the Davenport.”
“But that would have upset Mrs. Lyman.”
He shrugged. “The woman is important to a single department. Parker threatens the entire organization. What does a hand matter if the head is cut off? But not to worry. He will most definitely come for you, and when he does, we will make a convincing example of him. Along with Wells. And it looks like sweet Allison will be getting to know me better after all.”
The guy was crazy. He’d just had a couple of major setbacks and he was even more cheerful than before.
Someone knocked on the door. She blinked too long to see who it was. Lacrosse stepped out into the hall. And without him watching, she was finally able to turn her emotions loose. Shawn was alive! And if he was alive, he would be coming for her. She knew it like she knew the sun would come up every morning whether or not she was around to see it. But she would be around. She had to be around. She needed only to hold on until Shawn came.
Only…Lacrosse would be waiting for him.
Through the heavy wood door, she heard Lacrosse arguing quietly with someone whose voice she couldn’t hear. He returned with a lanky man dressed in white who hurried over to her and unlocked the handcuffs. Smelling strongly like bleach, he helped her out of the chair and dragged her along with him, into the hallway. They entered an elevator. With his nose curled to one side, Lacrosse got on with them.