by Holly Hart
– for nothing. I’ve been waiting here 20 minutes, and still nothing.
Even so, adrenaline is pumping through my body. I can taste it, sense it. My heart is beating faster, my breath is quicker. It’s the kind of drug that can push a man into making bad choices in life. It’s addictive. It gives you a high like nothing else can – whether that something is smoked, or powdered, or shot straight into a vein.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing beats the stuff your own body gives you. Thing is, the only way to get that hit is to throw yourself in harm’s way. At least, I thought it was. The last few hours has told me that there’s another way.
It’s just not a way I have any interest in repeating, ever again. Ever since Kim got taken, the stuff has been flowing in my veins. Almost too much to handle. I’m on edge, ready to explode. I feel like a weapon. I just need a target.
A convoy of four cars hurtles into the parking lot. The headlights light up the empty gravel lot. I clench my fists. Goddamn finally.
There’s a clatter as half a dozen car doors slam shut. Natalie steps out – wearing heels – and some jacked-up dude wearing shades (never mind it’s three hours past dusk) gives her his arm.
“Thanks, Ryan,” my former boss says.
The guy, Ryan, shoots me a threatening look. At least, I guess, that’s what he’s trying to do. Makes it hard to tell, when he’s play-acting like a Schwarzenegger double act from the eighties. He rests his hand on a weapon badly concealed at his waist.
It’s a warning. Thing is, I’m not scared of this punk.
“Natalie, where the hell have you been?” I growl. My voice is low and dangerous. “What took so long? And why the fuck did you bring these dollar store security guards?”
Ryan flinches. I see the blood rushing to his face, even though he pretends like he didn’t hear. He’s angry. Good. I hope he says something. I’m in the mood to hit something, and I don’t really care who it is.
“Good to see you, too, Nathaniel,” Natalie replies mildly. She’s acting calm – like she doesn’t give a crap that Kim’s in the clutches of some bad mothers right now.
Hell, she probably doesn’t. As long as Natalie gets what Natalie wants, Kim’s life doesn’t matter one jot.
My knuckles pop.
“I had to be sure you would not do something stupid,” Natalie says, glancing down at a tablet computer in her hands. “My apologies.”
The gravel crunches underneath my boots as I close the distance between me and Natalie. Ryan’s fingers twitch near his weapon. I watch him out of the corners of my eye. I doubt he can see a damn thing. It’s too dark, even without the sunglasses shading his eyes.
I hold my hands up as if to signal that I come in peace. I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“We’re wasting time,” I say. “Tell me where Kim is. I gave you what you wanted –.”
“You gave me nothing, Nate,” Natalie shrugs. “A few strings of numbers, some spreadsheets – it could be anything.”
The corners of Natalie’s mouth kick up. She’s hiding something, I know she is. My eyes dart towards Ryan. The halfwit is standing there with a dumb smile on his face. He doesn’t know how much danger he is in.
“That’s bullshit, Nat,” I say, taking another step forward. Ryan doesn’t react. I keep my voice low. There’s no need to startle either of them.
Natalie turns her palms upward and her mouth upside down. “What do you want from me, Nate?” She leans forward, her expression threatening. “I could have you killed, you know that? A bullet in your head, your body left in this lot, and no one would raise an eyebrow.”
Ryan grins. I take another step, circling him, drawing him in. I see the recognition beginning to dawn on Natalie’s face. She’s too late to do anything about it.
I lurch forward, and Ryan finally reacts. He’s caught between two minds – he doesn’t know whether to go for his gun, or put his fists up. I make the decision for him.
I stick my leg out, tripping Ryan, and the cut-price bodyguard stumbles forward. I chop down on the back of his neck, then grab him by the hair and bring my knee into his stomach as hard as I can.
I clutch Ryan’s body, hand speeding for the weapon at his hip. I needn’t have bothered. His lungs are gasping for air, and he’s doubled over, his hands clutching at his stomach. He was out of this fight before it even began.
I slip the weapon out of his holster. The whole thing took less than two seconds.
“You should watch yourself, Natalie,” I growl, my fingers still tangled in Ryan’s hair, the barrel of his gun pressed right up against his temple. His skin goes white where I press down.
“It would be a shame to kill your boy with his own gun, you know?” I say, meeting my former boss’s eyes.
Natalie looks up at me, tight lipped. “Enough, Nathaniel,” she barks. “You have made your point.”
“Bullshit,” I shout. I don’t care who hears. “Do you want to know what my point is?”
Natalie doesn’t say a word. She just stares at me, glowering. I take her impotent rage as an invitation to continue.
“My point,” I say, raising my voice over Ryan’s breathless whimpers, “is that you shouldn’t bring kids to a god damn gunfight, you understand?”
I jerk my head at Natalie’s other two bodyguards. They are flanking her to the left and right. Thing is, the guy on her left – I swear his hand is trembling.
I jerk my chin at the man dismissively. “You ever fire that piece, boy?”
He nods. It’s that quick, nervous nod of the head that gives away an amateur.
“You ever fire that outside of a range?”
The man with the trembling gun glances at Natalie. She shoots him a look of wild-eyed fury. I’m right, and she sure as hell knows it.
He shakes his head. “No sir.”
Natalie closes her eyes. Ryan moans – again. I’ve made my point, but I need to drive it home. I need to let Natalie know that I’m not going to stand for her screwing up this mission. I’ve had bad commanders before, but this isn’t the Army, and this isn’t just any mission.
There’s only one Kim, and I’m not letting these amateurs get her killed.
I throw Ryan’s whimpering body to the ground. His head crunches against the gravel, but I ignore it. He tries to drag himself to his feet, but it’s a slow, painful process. He’s no threat.
“Where did you get these guys, Natalie?” I ask, staring directly into her eyes. It’s a battle of wills, and I have no intention of losing it.
“Apparently,” she says with a tone of withering disdain, “you were right about the dollar store.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“We do this my way,” I grunt. I let Ryan’s weapon drop a few inches, so the barrel is pointed at the gravel. Natalie’s bodyguards relax, thinking that the danger is gone.
Idiots.
“I can’t let you use Paragon resources, Nathaniel –.”
I glance at the men Natalie brought along with her. “What a shame,” I spit back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll have to do without. Where is she, Natalie?”
My one-time handler chews her lips thoughtfully. She strings out the pause for a few seconds before replying.
“No idea.”
I see red. Ryan’s stumbling to his feet, and I kick him back to the ground. He lets out a huge, oomphing sigh. My gun flashes back up, pointing unwaveringly at the spot between Natalie’s eyes. The two goons, posted on her left and right, flinch, sharing panicked glances with each other. They are right to do so. I won’t blink twice about killing them if it means I save my girl.
“Say again?” I mutter. “You’ve got three seconds, starting now, before I blow a hole in your head. Three –.”
Natalie holds her hands up. I can see the indecision flashing in her eyes. I’ve knocked her off balance. She’s a woman who likes order, a woman who likes to be in command of every last inch of every situation she finds herself in. I’m not playing by those
rules. I’m not letting her know what’s about to happen – hell, even I don’t know what I’m about to do.
“Two…”
“Wait,” Natalie blurts out. She’s not nearly so confident, not anymore. “I’m telling the truth, I don’t know.”
“Then what use are you to me?” I growl.
I do the math inside my head – I’m pretty sure I can drop both of Natalie’s surviving bodyguards, and put a bullet in her kneecap before they get a chance to loose off one shot.
“You didn’t give us that information,” Natalie says, the words tumbling out of her mouth so fast they clattered into one another. “I’m telling the truth. But –.”
I believe her. There’s no way she can manufacture the kind of panic that’s building in her eyes. “But? But. What?”
“I know where Kimberley will be – or at least, where she might be. She is a smart girl, your Sawyers.”
“I know.”
Natalie’s tablet is trembling in her hands. She points at it. “I would like to show you something.”
I jerk the barrel of my weapon at her two guards. “You,” I grunt, before pointing the other way, “and you. Safeties on, and drop your weapons. Now!”
They flinch in unison at the sound of my shout; then glance at Natalie for instructions. She nods her head. They do as they are told. The guns clatter to the ground, metal scraping against stone.
“Better,” I mutter, pointing at the vehicles they arrived in. “Hands on the vehicles, where I can see them. You,” I order, pointing at a now visibly shaking Natalie, “show me what you’ve got.”
Natalie starts tapping at her tablet. It glows in the darkness. I move closer to her.
“What you sent over – Stan couldn’t make heads or tails of it, not at first. Hell, most of it is still processing. There’s enough data to bring down half the Templar cartel – or at least, the money men.”
“I don’t care. Get to the point.” I growl.
“Whoever stole this money, they need cash.”
“They got it, didn’t they?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“No – I mean cold, hard cash. Enough notes to go on the run, and to get them somewhere hot. Somewhere that has crooked banks: where they can disappear; where they can get new names, new identities –.”
“The point, Natalie,” I reiterate, my voice like granite.
“They’re hitting cash machines up and down East London,” Natalie says, pointing at a map of the area. More than a dozen cash points are marked in red – I guess the ones they’ve already drained of cash, and another two dozen marked in green.
“Right now,” Natalie continues. “No more than a mile away. I can’t get you Kim, but I can get you the guys who sold her out: her former co-workers. Boris –,”
I grab the tablet from Natalie’s hands. She doesn’t resist me.
I stare at the glowing map. I don’t understand why Kim sent me this. It’s like a treasure map that doesn’t get me the gold I’m hunting for. I don’t care about the guys who did this to Kim – not when her life is still in jeopardy.
I can spend the rest of my life hunting the men down to get my revenge. I will, if I have to. But I want Kim alive, not dead.
I rub my temple. The cold metal of the gun scrapes against my head.
What are you trying to tell me, Kiss? I wonder, glaring at the screen like it holds all the answers, and just doesn’t want to tell me. Why bring me this far?
And then I understand. I have to trust her. Kim’s proved stronger than I could have imagined at every point on this crazy ride. I don’t have to understand what she’s planning – and I don’t – but I sure as hell have to trust her.
I spin, spitting gravel out from underneath my boots.
“You, keys,” I bark, pointing at one of Natalie’s hapless guards, still with his palms face down on the car. He looks at me for permission, and then scrambles in his pockets. I catch them out of the air.
I turn to look at Natalie.
“You stay the hell out of this, you understand?” I say. “If I get Kim, you can have these cartel fucks for all I care. Hell, I’ll hand them to you on a silver platter. My severance – how’s that?
“But,” I continue, holding Natalie’s gaze, “if I so much as sense your grubby fingers on any of this, I promise you one thing – you’re next.”
Natalie grimaces. I can tell she’s searching for any other way to end this.
Finally, she nods – once.
I don’t wait a second longer. I split the night with gunfire, pumping a bullet into the front tire of three out of the four of the cars Natalie brought along with her. I climb into the fourth.
I’m coming, Kim.
28
Kim
“Take a left!” I yell.
Felix swerves through traffic. The SUV beneath us is barreling along at twice the legal speed limit. I’ve still got the laptop the cartel gangsters gave me balanced on my lap, but the SUV is swinging from side to side so viciously it’s hard to see the screen.
I’m sandwiched in between Felix’s two associates – they are the only thing keeping me from sliding far enough to slam my head against a window.
“Wait!” I shout, just as Felix prepares to turn. The whole SUV jolts. Felix turns his head, and stares at me with black, beady eyes that dig into my soul. “I mean: right.”
“Which is it, girl?” He grunts, still holding eye contact. Cars flash by left and right, their warning lights glowing in the darkness.
I can see the license plate of a truck dead ahead. It’s growing in size, getting clearer every second. I can almost make out each individual letter. Felix isn’t slowing down. He’s not even looking at the road.
“Right!” I scream, my heart thudding at ten times its usual rate. “Definitely, go right!”
Felix keeps staring at me just another second longer. It’s like he’s putting on a show of dominance – saying, “I’m so manly I don’t even have to look at the road.”
I just think he’s an idiot. No one cares how hard you are if you end up dead…
His eyes flicker back to the road, and he yanks the steering wheel right. The back of the SUV swings out, and my knuckles go white holding onto the laptop. The engine explodes beneath us, and Felix jacks the speed up even further. The power is throbbing through the SUV’s chassis: driving up through the seat; making the laptop screen wobble in front of my eyes.
We thunder down a side street. Shops are shuttered left and right. Restaurants are still doing a roaring trade. Neither of Felix’s associates seems to care that their boss is acting like a suicidal maniac. I guess they are just used to it.
“Where to next?” Felix growls up front. His voice sounds alive with excitement. I guess he lives for this kind of thing.
I struggle to bring the laptop screen into focus and – more than that – to concentrate. Between the fear of my imminent death, the wild gyrations of the SUV, and the fear gripping my stomach – you can guess why.
There’s a glowing icon on the map on the left-hand side of the computer. That’s us.
Think, Kim.
I need to figure out a way of getting Nate’s attention. How I do that, I’ve got no idea. It’s not like I can ask to borrow a cell phone. If Nate got my message – and more importantly figured it out – then he’ll be in the area. But that’s just the start. London is a huge city. Nate could be two hundred yards away, and it would be way too far to help.
Dozens of ATMs are all marked out on the map. A small string of them are shaded red – already drained by Boris and his crew. The rest are still marked green – possible targets for Boris and his cronies.
“Where are they going, Sawyers?” Felix grunts. The end of the alleyway is closing fast.
Okay, think. You know where they might be going. How does that help?
“I’m working on it,” I mutter to buy myself time, tapping at the keyboard. Carlos – Felix’s huge, silver-toothed henchman glances down at the screen, but grimaces in
confused disgust. Good – I can’t have him seeing what I’m doing.
“Dis beach jus’ plane’u, homes,” he groans. “She ain’ got no idea. I tell’u, gi‘me ten minutes, she yell’it”
“That right, chica?” Felix calls back at me. His mouth is stretched open wide in the rearview mirror in an evil grin. “You playin’ me fo’ a foo’? Dis a dangerous game for a little girl…”
I have a flash of inspiration. Don’t follow the football. Go where it’s going.
“Wait,” I hiss back, the urgency in my voice coming out with a hint of desperation. “I’ve got an idea.”