I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming at him. “Then you will still come back to France with me,” he went on, “and spend the next, what, eight months as a prisoner. After the baby is born . . . well, an uncooperative prisoner is of no use to me.” He gazed at me with a look of pleasant inquiry.
“I see.” Despite my best efforts, my voice came out shaky, goddammit. I took the time for a couple of deep breaths, forcing my fists to unclench. Finally, I said, “You’re not leaving me much of a choice here.”
His smile was almost sympathetic. “I understand, of course, that you may be inclined to lie now and promise cooperation you don’t intend. That’s what Roland, and some of my other employees, are predicting. But I have faith in your ability to do the right thing for your child.” He held up my cell phone. “So I’ll make this very easy. Call Mrs. Hayne and Mr. Carling. Hell, call Mr. Cruz. Tell them you’re with us now, and I’ll drive you straight to the airport. Give them any hint that it’s involuntary and we’ll go with plan B. You will spend this evening on our airplane, locked up in the cargo hold where you will be safe and out of the way, while the Wild Hunt decimates this ghastly mess of a town.”
I looked at the phone in his hand for a long moment. I didn’t have to fake the tears that began to spill down my cheeks. This was just ridiculous. How could this old man with his fancy car and absurd accent get to have power over me? He was batty as fuck.
I won’t say that I made a choice, because I never really had one. I took the phone, looked Aldric straight in the eye, and said, “You’ve got a deal. But I want to make the hardest call first, and that’s Jesse.”
Aldric nodded, waving his hand and relaxing back into his seat. I dialed the phone. Roland didn’t appear to have moved, but something about his body language suddenly screamed on alert.
Jesse answered on the first ring, traffic sounds in the background. “Oh my God, Scar, where are you? I’ve been—”
I tried to make my voice sound as calm as possible as I cut him off. I was not going to cry on the phone, goddammit. Aldric wouldn’t get that out of me. “Jesse . . . listen . . .”
He heard my tone and went dead silent. “I love you,” I said simply. “I’m sorry it took so long to . . . but I love you.”
Aldric’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t sure where I was going with this yet. I held my hand up to signal that everything was fine, that I was getting to it.
And then I leaned as far toward the window as I could and said into the phone, “I’m in a long black Mercedes on the corner of Seventh and Pacific—”
For an old man, Aldric could move fast. He ripped the phone out of my hand and slapped me across the face. I lunged across the seat after him, but Roland was instantly on top of me, slamming me back against the seat and fastening my seat belt to keep me in position. He had a nasty, smug look on his Aryan poster-boy face, but at least he didn’t say “I told you so” to Aldric. He was smarter than that, anyway.
Aldric, for his part, composed himself, gestured to the driver to roll down his window, and tossed my phone out of the car. By craning my head, I was just able to see my last link to Jesse and the rest of my life explode against the pavement. “That was a poor choice, Miss Bernard,” Aldric said. “I hope you won’t regret it when your friends’ and colleagues’ heads are rolling in the streets this evening.” He made a sad clucking noise. “And I tried to help you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You tried to subjugate me. It’s not the same thing, you dumbass third-rate Bond villain.” I shook my head. “Jesus, you idiots have been watching me all this time, and you’ve learned nothing about me. But I’ve learned about you. I know you’re scared.”
Aldric glowered. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I mimicked his tone. “You believe I can stop you tonight. And you think Dashiell and the others, our whole way of life, is a threat to your plan. So you kidnap me and try to dress it up as a decision I get to make. I call bullshit, you sanctimonious piece of sister-fucking Eurotrash garbage. Fuck you and the horse you think you’re going to ride on tonight. I will crush you.”
For one second, something like fear flickered in Aldric’s eyes, and then he chuckled. “Oh, Miss Bernard. I think I’m really going to enjoy the process of breaking you.”
His voice was chilling. I opened my mouth to deliver what I’m sure was a scathing rebuttal, but none of us ever got to find out what I was going to say, because at that moment a certain red Lexus T-boned the Mercedes and knocked us off the road.
Chapter 39
Jesse had lucked out with the cops who came to interview him: they were from the Northeast division of the LAPD, far away from his own former precinct, and if they recognized him from his book, they didn’t mention anything. It helped that the story was simple and short: he had arrived to meet his brother, but Noah was already lying there, beaten up. That was it. They told him they’d be investigating the attack, but said in all frankness they didn’t have a lot of hope unless witnesses came forward, they found the car, or Noah woke up and identified his attackers. Jesse told them he understood, and they promised to be in touch.
The rest of his morning was occupied by a flurry of doctors’ updates, nurses’ updates, pacing the waiting room, and talking on the phone to his parents. By the time they arrived around noon, Noah was out of surgery and in intensive care.
Jesse’s mom, Carmen, came rushing into the hospital room first, her makeup running down her face. She was a short, solid woman with glossy dark hair that was graying at the temples. She was wearing a green velvet dress for the wedding, but she’d swapped whatever shoes she’d had on for Keds. “Mijo,” she cried out, throwing her arms around Jesse. “What happened?”
“Hi, Mom.” Jesse bent down to accept the hug. “Is Dad parking the car?”
“I’m here,” said Robert Astin, puffing his way into the room. Jesse’s parents had made a deal before their sons were born that both boys would take Carmen’s last name, and Robert had chosen their first names. He was a few years older than his wife, medium height, with silvering blond hair and warm blue eyes. “Your mother’s just faster. What’d I miss?”
Jesse stepped aside so they could see Noah in the bed. His brother was nearly unrecognizable, his face swollen and bruised, and most of his exposed skin seemed to be hooked up to machines. Jesse had spent a lot of time in hospitals, but he only recognized half of them.
Carmen cried out, and the two of them rushed to Noah’s side. Jesse gave them the same story he’d told the police. “Where is the doctor?” Jesse’s mother asked anxiously. “I have so many questions.”
Jesse checked his watch. “He should be stopping by again in a couple of minutes,” he said.
Carmen turned her full attention to him. “You look so tired, mijo. Why don’t you go get something to eat? We’ll be here.”
Jesse wasn’t really hungry, but he wanted to check his phone and figure out what was happening with Scarlett. And he wouldn’t mind some non-hospital air. “Yeah . . . okay. I’ll be back in a few.”
Jesse left Noah’s room and headed down the hallway, already pulling out his phone. There was a new voice mail from Scarlett. He was just about to listen when he heard his brother’s name and looked up.
“No, I’m not technically family,” said the woman who’d spoken. She was Indian, a couple of years older than Jesse, pretty and harried-looking with a light British accent. “As I said, however, they’re expecting me.”
“Sashi?” Jesse asked.
The woman turned, blinked, and said, “Oh my. You must be Jesse.”
“Yeah.” Over her shoulder, Jesse smiled at the nurse. “This is Noah’s girlfriend. She’s also a . . .”
“A physician’s assistant,” Sashi filled in, showing the nurse some sort of laminated credentials. “In Las Vegas.”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “Right.”
The nurse looked a little skeptical, but Jesse gave her his best smile. “Would it be okay if we let her in to see Noah?
”
He led her back down the hall to Noah’s room, and said under his breath, “Thank you for coming. Scarlett wasn’t sure you’d even get her message.”
“Yes, well, Scarlett sounded very upset on the phone, so I caught the ten o’clock flight. I tried to call her when I landed, but her mobile went straight to voice mail.”
They’d reached the right door, but Sashi stopped short. “Give me a quick rundown of his injuries,” she instructed.
“I don’t remember all the medical terms, but his left ankle is broken, he has a massive concussion, and his brain is swelling. Lots of bruising. They’ve already done surgery to fix internal bleeding and removed a chunk of his skull to help with the swelling. He’s in an induced coma.”
She took it all in for a moment, nodding. “Is the ankle a compound fracture?”
“No, just a simple break.”
“Right. When I speak to his body, I’ll focus on the brain and internal injuries. Those are the most life-threatening. The ankle should heal itself in time, and it will look too suspicious if the bone suddenly knits back together.”
Jesse was a little thrown by “when I speak to his body,” but he just said, “Whatever you need; whatever you want.”
She nodded, checked whether anyone was coming down the hall, and unbelted her trench coat. Underneath, she was wearing a conservative gray dress and a white lab coat. Anyone passing by would just see another doctor in a busy hospital. Jesse was impressed, but then, this was what she did. “I need time with him. An hour would be best.”
“My parents are in there.”
Sashi wrinkled her nose. “That will complicate things. Can you get rid of them?”
“We’re going to have to stick to the girlfriend story.”
“Fine. What do I need to know?”
Jesse told her a few things about Noah, including where he lived and his job. “All right,” Sashi said. “We’ve been dating long distance for six months, but it’s only started to look serious in the last two. I’m a PA, and I want to check his chart myself.”
“Got it.” He held the door for her. “Let’s do this.”
Jesse made the introductions. His father took the news in stride, but Carmen was fascinated to learn about Sashi, the girlfriend Noah had never mentioned (and did not, in fact, know about). Jesse had to do some tap-dancing, but he eventually convinced his parents to go to the cafeteria with him for lunch, giving Sashi a little time alone with Noah. “But we just got here,” Carmen protested again as Jesse ushered them out. “And I have so many questions!”
He scrambled to think of something to say that would temporarily divert her attention from Noah’s condition, preferably without lying too much, and finally said, “There’s something I want to tell you about anyway. I’m seeing someone, too.”
That got Carmen to turn her head away.
As they walked back down the hall, Jesse had a sense of déjà vu and remembered he hadn’t actually checked the voice mail from Scarlett. “I’m just gonna pop into the restroom, then we’ll go get lunch,” he promised his mother.
In the single-stall bathroom, he played Scarlett’s message: “Hey, it’s me. I know you don’t want me going to Sunken City without you, but I’m out of other ideas, so I’m going to run down there. Shadow’s with me, and I’ve got my knives and bulletproof vest.” Scarlett paused, probably wondering if she needed to say something relationship-y now. She added in a softer voice, “We’re gonna be fine, Jesse.”
He cursed and called her cell. It went straight to voice mail. Jesse tried again, with the same result.
He cursed longer and louder, in Spanish and then English. Sunken City could be dangerous even if you weren’t being pursued by an evil witch clan, and she’d gone down there anyway.
Jesse debated with himself for a moment. He knew that Scarlett’s last relationship had failed partly because Eli had been controlling and overprotective: the werewolf had been so obsessed with Scarlett’s safety that he’d ignored what she actually wanted. Jesse didn’t want to make the same mistake, especially now that they were finally on the same page about dating. At the same time, she was pregnant, she was being hunted, and she was outnumbered. And, maybe most important, she hadn’t actually said she wanted to go by herself, or that she wanted him to give her space.
Jesse decided that he would take the risk of Scarlett accusing him of smothering. This was too important.
He sighed. Now he just had to figure out what to tell his mother.
Twenty minutes later, Jesse was practically flying down the 110. He’d given his parents a hasty excuse about Scarlett being in a fender bender—he’d talked about her many times—and ducked out before they could ask questions. He was definitely going to pay for that later, and Sashi might get annoyed if they went straight back to Noah’s room, especially if they saw or heard something they shouldn’t, but Sashi was a pro; she would figure something out. In his gut, Jesse was sure something was wrong.
He tried calling her again, but Scarlett still didn’t answer her phone. Next, Jesse called Abby Hayne, the woman in charge of all of Dashiell’s technological needs. Abby usually worked a pretty pedestrian Monday-to-Friday schedule, but he hoped that with the Luparii in town, Dashiell or Hayne would have put her on high alert.
Sure enough, she answered immediately. “What’s up, Jesse?”
“Abby! Can you trace Scarlett’s newest phone for me?”
There was a brief pause, and then Abby said dryly, “There’s this thing called Find My iPhone now . . .”
Jesse reminded himself that Abby was employed by Dashiell and didn’t actually owe him anything. “I know, I know, but I’m driving, and I don’t know if it’ll work with the newest phone. Please?”
She heard the urgency in his voice and said, “Okay, okay. I gotta put the phone down while I get to the computer.” Abby had cerebral palsy and usually used a wheelchair at work. A couple of minutes went by, and then she was back. “Okay, I’m tracing it now. She’s in San Pedro, right on the ocean.”
“Thank God.” Maybe he really was overreacting. Jesse would be happy to take that particular hit, though. “I’m headed down there now. I may need to have you check again, okay?”
He could practically hear her eyes rolling. “I live to serve.”
Forty minutes later, the 110 was about to dump him onto Gaffrey Street in San Pedro, about three miles north of Sunken City. He tried Scarlett first, and this time the phone rang, but she didn’t answer. Frowning, Jesse called Abby back. “Do you still have her location?”
A pause, then: “She’s headed north on Pacific.”
“Okay, good.” Pacific ran parallel to Gaffrey, one block east.
“Do you—” Abby began, but Jesse’s call-waiting beeped.
It was Scarlett. “Thanks, Abby, call you back!” he said in a rush and clicked over. “Oh my God, Scar, where are you? I’ve been—”
“Jesse . . . listen . . .”
He shut up. Her voice was all wrong: sad and resigned. She told him she loved him, and he knew, he knew something terrible was happening.
“I’m in a long black Mercedes on the corner of Seventh and Pacific—” she started to say, and then the phone call was abruptly cut off.
Fear seemed to pulse through all of Jesse’s extremities like a jolt of adrenaline. He was still on Gaffrey, but he took his eyes off the road to check the map on his phone, which was incredibly dangerous and stupid. Then he topped that by cutting across two lanes of traffic to take a screeching left onto First Avenue, speeding a block east to Pacific Avenue. He turned right and leaned forward, craning his neck, looking for a Mercedes.
In some parts of Los Angeles, finding a single Mercedes might have been impossible, but this area was San Pedro’s answer to a commercial district: Chinese food and liquor stores and Laundromats. He didn’t see any Mercedes.
Jesse was just beginning to despair when he had to stop at a light on Pacific. Oncoming traffic had the green, with a left-turn arrow, and J
esse spotted a weird-looking black car, sort of halfway between a limo and a sedan. It was turning left, trying to get off Pacific Ave. He saw the Mercedes logo on the grill and, without really thinking it through, pressed his foot on the gas.
He wasn’t flooring it, and the Mercedes wasn’t going very fast, but Jesse’s airbag still popped as the Lexus’s bumper hit the side of the Mercedes, just in front of the passenger seat. His head snapped back and forth, but he was already unbuckling and tipping himself out of the car when the driver of the Mercedes stepped out with a handgun raised. Disoriented, Jesse pulled his own gun and crouched, duckwalking to the back door of the Mercedes.
He tugged it open, and a gunshot instantly whipped past his ear. He half-stood and peeked through the window into the car.
The shot had come from a bodyguard-looking man who lay on his back on the floor of the car. Scarlett was in the seat closest to the door, facing backward. There was also an old man lying halfway across the seat, partially tipped off it. Jesse’s quick impression was of a turtle trying to right itself.
“Get back!” Scarlett yelled to him, and she kicked the hands of the bodyguard, sending his gun tumbling away. The man started to rise, but Scarlett stomped down hard, right on his nuts. It looked excruciating.
Meanwhile, the driver of the Mercedes had come around the nose of the car, climbing and sliding over the point where it still connected to the Lexus. He had his gun out, but Jesse raised his own weapon before the driver could shoot. He put two bullets in the man’s chest, realized he was wearing a vest, and shot him in the head.
Scarlett fell out of the still-open car door, kicking it shut behind her. One of the two men must have been reaching for her, because there was a scream of pain. Jesse struggled to his feet.
Scarlett’s eyes were huge and panicked. “Run!” she yelled.
Shadow Hunt Page 22