by Cat Gilbert
“He’s right,” Lars agreed. “Quit worrying about it and concentrate on stopping this.”
They were right. I couldn’t afford to trust them. Couldn’t waste the time second guessing myself, always afraid of making a mistake. Not now. The decision to stop wondering and just not trust them was an immediate relief.
“Good,” Lars snapped out, sensing I’d made my decision. “Connors. Just so you know, if I find out you are working for them I’ll kill you myself.”
“Ditto,” Connors challenged back, causing Lars to raise a skeptical eyebrow.
I looked at them standing there, Lars, big and fierce, towering over the professorial doctor, both of them threatening to kill each other and felt a ghost of a smile slide over my lips. We’d be lucky to survive the night.
“Deal,” Lars growled out before turning back to me. “We’ll cover your back, but assume that our intent is to stab you in the back instead. The Doc and I will follow your lead. We’ve done pretty well so far letting you run with it.”
“Within limits,” Connors corrected him. “Too many more blows to the head and I’ll have to doubt your reasoning abilities. He’s is right about that cut, Taylor. You need stitches.”
“Right now, we need to concentrate on getting out of here.” I looked over at Connors, wondering how long it had been since he’d eaten. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m managing for now. It was hard to stay ... calm, given the circumstances. I thought she was going to kill you. I understood what you were doing, but it was still hard to sit there and let it happen.”
Lars looked at Connors in disbelief. It was easy to see he didn’t think of him as a threat anymore than Hughes had, which was fine, because I knew differently. I knew how much control it had taken to sit there and do nothing with Hughes within inches of him. I knew he understood how important it was that we follow the trail to the end.
“You know, I would have never let Keith kill you.” I told him, hoping he could hear the sincerely in my words.
“Oh, my dear. The thought that you would have, never even crossed my mind.”
FORTY-TWO
THE OUTSIDE DOOR opened, and Lars instantly had his gun out, prodding me forward with the barrel and shoving Connors into step beside me, as Keith stepped through the door.
“Here. Get cleaned up and put this on.” He threw a shirt at me, which I didn’t bother to try and catch, letting it fall to the ground instead.
“Where’s Vivian?” I asked, checking the door behind him, expecting her to step through at any minute.
“She’s busy.” He walked over and scooped the shirt up in one fluid movement, trying to shove it into my hands.
“Look Taylor, I’m sorry about what happened.” If he was trying to sound contrite, he was failing miserably. It had come out irritated and annoyed.
“What exactly are you sorry about? Lying to me? Betraying me? Letting me think you were dead?”
“I’m sorry about Vivian,” he snapped. “She shouldn’t have hit you.”
Really? He hadn’t been sorry when Hughes had knocked me around, but then he was trying to push me into using my power. Maybe there were limits. Even for him. He stepped closer, trying to look at my face and I jerked away, refusing to let him see. He reached around and grabbed my chin, forcing me to face him.
“It isn’t the first time, Keith. I’m used to it,” I said, knocking his hand away. “Besides, I didn’t exactly see you trying to stop her.”
“It won’t happen again, now that we know.” He jerked me around to face him. “It wasn’t in the reports. We had no way of knowing what she was doing to you.”
I stopped struggling as his words sank in. We had no way of knowing? Just who was we? Whoever they were, apparently, they hadn’t been watching. Just relying on the reports that Vivian had filed. Way, way too trusting.
“I imagine there’s quite a lot that you won’t find in the reports,” I said softly, driving the wedge of distrust further into the hole. I jerked my arm from his grasp and bent to pick up the shirt that had ended back up on the floor, before turning to go.
“It won’t happen again, Taylor. You have my word on that.”
I nodded that I had heard him, glad my back was to him and he couldn’t see me roll my eyes at the thought that he would think his word actually meant something at this point. Lars poked me with the gun to get me moving again and we headed down the corridor between the crates. I heard the door slam shut behind me and glanced back to see that Keith had left the building.
“Well played, my dear,” Connors whispered. “Well played indeed. He’s out there right now, wondering what else she’s done that he doesn’t know about.”
Lars pushed open a door that led into the bathroom and flipped on the light, leaving me standing face to face with the mirror. They were both right. I needed stitches.
“Actually Doc, he said ‘we didn’t know’.” Lars muttered quietly. “He talked to someone higher up, went over her head. That’s the person who’s unhappy with what Vivian did."
I’d been looking around for some way to wash the blood out of my hair without sticking my head into what had to be the dirtiest sink I’d ever seen, but his words stopped me short. I looked from the mirror and the abused and bloody figure I saw reflected there, down to the clean shirt that I held in my hand. It belonged to a woman, and as I rolled the fabric between my fingers feeling the soft smooth glide of silk, I realized it had to be Vivian’s.
I had never been allowed to touch her things growing up, most especially her clothes. The penalty for doing so had been severe. A lesson learned once and not ever forgotten. How it must have pained her to give this to me now. Something she would never have done given any other choice. She was in trouble and she knew it. I wasn’t about to help her cover her tracks.
I let the fabric slide from my grasp and tumble in a heap onto the floor, deciding I looked fine, just the way I was. Let them see a sample of Vivian’s handiwork close up and personal. See what they were dealing with. If we ever got there.
“Lars!” Keith’s voice boomed through the warehouse, making me jump. “We’re moving!”
“You ready? He’s not going to be happy,” Lars asked, casting a glance at the discarded shirt.
I nodded and turned to look at him, just in time to see the gun emerge from behind a stack of crates and take aim at Lars.
There was no time to think, no time to yell a warning. Barely enough time to react. I shoved Lars aside while giving the crates a mental heave, just as the bullet hit the wall between us. Lars hit the ground and rolled away as I whirled toward Connors, and knocked him to the floor, scrambling for cover.
“Taylor, stop. He’s down.” Lars was moving rapidly, clearing the distance to the crates where I’d seen the gun. “Stay over there.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. Connors and I had ended up crouched down by another stack of crates. I pressed my back against the hard wood behind me, closing my eyes. I had no desire to see what I had just done. The adrenaline was pumping through me like fire and my lungs ached with each breath I took.
“Who’s shooting at us?” Connors whispered.
“Whoever Hughes sold her to, Doc, or whoever was working with Hughes. Doesn’t much matter. They’re here to collect her,” Lars replied, moving quietly in next to me. “What do you want to do?”
The sound of gunfire outside confirmed that whoever had been about to kill Lars hadn’t come alone.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to help them. Make sure that Keith and Vivian win this.”
Connors grunted in agreement, wanting to know who was behind all this as badly as I did. Getting on that plane was the only way we were going to find out. The trick was going to be making sure things ended up the way we wanted, without them knowing we’d helped. That, and staying alive.
“Okay then,” Lars whispered, handing me his own gun, keeping the one he’d picked up from the dead man for himself. “Use the gun from now on
. Lot easier to explain.” He cocked an eyebrow, bobbing his head back toward the fallen crates, making his point. “Stay close, Doc, and keep your head down.”
We silently wove our way back through the crates toward the main room. We were nearly clear from the crates, when I grabbed Lars’ arm, stopping him from walking into the open room and pulled him back.
Shaking my head, I put my finger to my lips, cautioning them to silence as we backed away and melted into the crates behind us. They were waiting for us there. I could feel it. The man they’d sent in was meant to flush us out. The empty room was a trap.
We needed to draw them out and I was the best bait we had. They needed me alive so they would hesitate before opening up on whoever came into the room, giving me some time to turn and run. Or at least I hoped so. I handed my gun to Connors and motioned for them to stay put and to be ready. It was obvious that neither of them were happy about it, but they kept quiet, following my lead, like they had promised me earlier.
I turned and ran the rest of the way through the crates and into the room as if Satan himself were at my heels. The response was immediate and what I had been expecting. The taser points almost seemed to be flying toward me in slow motion, the wires coiling out behind them in graceful spirals. I fell backward, letting my feet drive forward and watched as the spikes passed inches above me, before reaching the end of their lines and being jerked back to the floor. I rolled over and was moving, scrambling on all fours, clawing my way back toward the shelter of the crates, my pursuers hot on my heels. I gained my feet and off balance, careened into the first stack of crates, losing precious time. Hard fingers closed around my right arm, jerking me back, and using the momentum, I whirled around, driving my left palm heel forward, meeting bone with a resounding crack. He didn’t go down, but his grip loosened and I twisted free, nearly falling, fighting to stay on my feet as I turned once more to run.
I sped past Lars and Connors, dodging around corners, moving fast, knowing there were too many of them to take down at once. There’d been at least three men waiting in the main room and at least one was still hot on my heels. I rounded the corner into the hallway that led back to the bathroom and ran full out in the straightaway.
Suddenly Keith stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall, blocking my way. I saw him standing there as he raised his gun and leveled it at me.
I dove, stretching forward and hit the floor hard, sliding down the hall as the shot rang out over my head. I barely had come to a stop, when his hand grabbed my hair, jerking me up to my feet and throwing me against the wall. He pinned me there, one hand around my throat, the other centering his gun on the footsteps coming at us through the crates.
“Keith, let me go,” I gasped, digging at his hand, trying desperately to warn Lars.
Suddenly, he was there, stepping into the hallway, his gun aimed at Keith, murder in his eyes.
For a second, I thought they were going to kill each other, then just as fast, Keith dropped his gun and his grasp on my neck. Lars dropped his gun as well, and reaching behind him, drug Connors into view before shoving him down the hallway toward us. I slid down the wall onto the floor and within seconds Connors dropped down beside me.
“Is the perimeter secure?” Lars asked Keith, while checking his ammo. A quick glance told me he had managed to get his gun back and lose the other gun somewhere along the way. I realized, looking at Connors, that Lars hadn’t been so much pushing him as dragging him along. He looked exhausted, his facial muscles slack and his eyes vacant. I didn’t know what had happened back there, but it had pushed him over the edge. As I watched, he roused himself enough to try and give me an encouraging smile, but it was obvious he needed help and fast.
“Yes. For now. ” He went to the man he’d shot and rolled him over with a kick. “Recognize him?”
Lars shook his head no. He didn’t recognize him, but I did. I’d last seen him at the warehouse in Denver where they’d been keeping Brown, which meant he worked for Hughes, not whoever Hughes had promised me to. I clung to the chance that Hughes had a keen sense of self-preservation and hadn’t given me up. They might not know exactly who they were looking for, but it was a sure bet that they were expecting delivery tonight. Whoever the buyer was, if they had a brain in their head, they’d have been watching Hughes, waiting for him to bring out the package.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said, scrambling to my feet and dragging Connors up with me. “We don’t have much time.”
“Shut up, Taylor. You’ll leave when I say and not before. Now sit down.” Keith glared at me and motioned with his gun to sit back down.
I had my hands full with Connors but my legs were free and Keith was standing much too close to me for his own good. I took him in the man parts with a shot that made his eyes roll up in his head and the gun drop from his limp hand. The feeling of satisfaction that went through me as he hit the floor almost made me feel ashamed of myself. But not quite.
“The man you shot worked for Hughes, Keith. They’re here to get me. Tonight someone is expecting a delivery. They may or may not know who they’re buying, but you can bet they know where we are and when Hughes doesn’t come out with me, they’ll be coming in. I don’t intend to be here when they do.”
I turned to leave, only to be stopped by the feel of a gun barrel, pressed tight against the back of my skull.
“You’ll leave when he says you leave. Now sit down.” Lars shoved me back down, causing me to loose my grip on Connors, ending us in a tangled pile on the floor, while Lars helped Keith to his feet. “She’s right. They’ll come for her when Hughes doesn’t show up.”
Keith was up, but barely. He was standing with his hands braced on his knees, dragging in deep breaths of air.
“You do that again, Taylor, and I’ll kill you myself,” he hissed out when he finally managed to straighten up. “I don’t care how valuable they think you are.”
He gave me a look and I knew he meant every word of his threat. If I took him down again, it would have to be for good. The fact that I even thought such a thing, made my head spin. The realization that I would do it, if push came to shove, made it that much worse.
“I’m glad you understand me,” Keith snapped, misinterpreting the look on my face. He pulled the radio from his pocket and thumbed it on. “Get the cars ready. We’re leaving.”
He clipped the radio back on his belt and turned to leave. “Bring them along, Lars. If she causes any trouble, shoot her.” He turned back to give me a parting sneer before he disappeared behind the crates.
We stepped out of the warehouse and Lars pointed us to the car we had arrived in. Keith was already inside, with the engine running. A second car pulled up next to us as Lars opened the rear door and motioned us inside with the gun. Connors went in first, sliding over to the far door, giving me time for a quick look around before I got in.
Vivian was nowhere to be seen and I had to assume she had gone ahead. There was one guard manning the gate, and one at the wheel of the other car, so she either took the other guards with her, or they had been killed in the fight. Either way, Vivian had left us short handed. I settled into my seat, wondering if Keith realized what Vivian had done and why.
I leaned over and helped Connors with his seatbelt, before snapping my own into place. I glanced out the window to see the gate opening, the last guard running for the waiting car and wondered how far we would get before the attack came.
We sped quietly through the industrial area, flying past darkened warehouses and empty parking lots. Lars ran through the intersections, ignoring the stop signs without hesitation. Connors hadn’t moved in quite a while. He was either asleep or unconscious and I was betting on the latter. He’d expended too much energy and we needed to get him some help. At the moment that didn’t seem to be much of an option.
I looked behind us to see the other car tailing us, several car lengths back. Close enough to keep an eye on us, far enough back to be able to react. They were running w
ithout lights, making themselves a decoy. Anyone attacking, would assume the package was in the rear car, that the lead car was the security team. A plan that would either work for us or against us.
We cleared the industrial area and came into the business district and the first stop lights. Lars would have to slow down now and obey the traffic laws. We were a car load of bloody, battered people. We couldn’t afford to be stopped by the police for running a light.
I expected to see the reflections of headlights behind me as we rolled up to a stop light, and glanced back when they failed to appear. The chase car was gone. I’d given them too much credit. They weren’t a decoy. They were hiding and had taken off the first chance they got. I looked at Lars and saw him glance in the rearview, saw his jaw clench and his hands tighten on the wheel. We were on our own.
It was late and the streets pretty much deserted, with the exception of a couple of blocks where the bars were located. We were almost out of town, heading for the highway into Denver when it happened. I heard them long before I saw them. The noise pounding through my head, shaking the car windows. The light ahead turned yellow and I felt the brakes grab as we slowed to a stop and then watched out my window as the car slid up next to us.
It bore little resemblance to the family car it was intended to be. Honda was the gangster car of choice and this one had been customized to the max. The music blasting out the open windows was loud enough to make my bones vibrate, sending waves of pain through my battered face and head. There was one huge black guy in front, beating out a rhythm on the dash and rocking the whole car in time to the music. I sat watching him, willing the light to change, when suddenly he turned and looked right at me, eyes narrowing in anger.