*
Isabelle paced Holt’s living room. She had wanted to attend the final planning meeting with Holt and the crew, wanted to ask questions, lots of questions, like what was to stop Decker from killing her the minute he saw her instead of getting chatty, but she knew what the responses would be. Holt had to play to his ego and hope he wanted to show off his superiority before he squashed his enemy. If not, Holt had to fight her way out of the situation. It sounded ludicrous to Isabelle. She had decided hearing it again wasn’t going to make her feel any better about it. Now she wasn’t sure if she made the right decision. Being home alone, worrying by herself, was miserable. What if Holt died? What if Decker got away? What if, what if, what if?
If anyone had told her six months ago she would be helping plan something like this, she would have had them committed to the loony bin. Perhaps the most unsettling part of the entire plan was that, since she met Holt, a scenario exactly like this one was what she feared. Holt in danger, chasing a bad guy, maybe never coming home. She hadn’t wanted to get involved because she didn’t like Holt’s job and what it could entail. Now, faced with her worst-case scenario, she was less inclined to leave, felt more for Holt, and wanted to play an active part in saving Holt’s hide.
She knew, even if she walked away right now, Holt would go through with this scheme. Isabelle didn’t need to have any part of it or Holt and her danger. It was the fact that, despite all that, Isabelle didn’t want to be anywhere else. It didn’t seem like it had been long enough to be brainwashed, or to be in love, but she couldn’t deny how she felt. Holt Lasher, every last dangerous, unsavory, noble part of her, was the one Isabelle wanted. It sucked to finally figure that out the night before a psycho tried to kill her.
*
“Decker, it’s me, Gary. I think something’s happening with my phone and I can’t find Diamond. I’m freaking out a little here.”
Gary was standing in front of Decker’s house speaking into the security screen. He looked slightly crazed.
“What do you mean something’s happening with your phone?” Decker asked. He had a sinking feeling.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten a call in ten days, and then I tried to call it and no one answered, but it never rang. Diamond’s gone and I couldn’t find you.”
Decker buzzed the gate open.
“Get up here, Gary. I think we’ve been played.”
Chapter Seventeen
Holt felt like she was waiting on her prom date. Isabelle was finishing getting ready for the gala and Holt was sitting on the couch, replaying the plan one last time. Amy was with her. They had gone together every year, although as her mother was fond of pointing out, since they were just friends, Amy didn’t count as a date. No sense breaking tradition now, even if it meant Holt showing up with a woman on each arm.
“I can’t believe that cockamamie scheme is the best you could come up with,” Amy said for the umpteenth time.
Holt shrugged. It wasn’t perfect, but she was done second-guessing. The plan was in place; she had to perform. “I need your help tonight,” Holt said, her voice low so Isabelle couldn’t hear her from the bathroom. “Tonight, everyone is going to be so damn worried about keeping me from becoming Swiss cheese that no one is going to be watching Isabelle. Once this goes down, she’s vulnerable. Will you keep your eyes on her all night?”
“Why not have one of your team watch her? I don’t know what I’m doing. Not that watching your girlfriend all night isn’t going to be an enjoyable task.”
“I want you to keep Isabelle safe because you’ll still have a job if I’m dead, so you can focus a bit better than the others, and you’re my friend and I’m begging. You know what she means to me.”
“That I do, kid,” Amy said, standing up and kissing Holt on the top of the head.
They were spared any more talk of the anxiety-provoking part of the evening by Isabelle’s entrance. Holt was speechless. Isabelle was always beautiful, but tonight she looked radiant.
A one-shouldered black cocktail dress fit her as if it had been custom sewn. Her blond hair was off her neck in an elegant updo, and her sexy heels did everything they were supposed to do to accentuate her beautiful legs.
“Hello, beautiful,” Holt said, not sure how she had managed to get Isabelle to agree to be in the same room with her, let alone as her date. “You look amazing.”
“You’re looking pretty good yourself,” Isabelle said, taking in Holt’s black three-piece tuxedo. Even if the vest and jacket were designed to stop bullets, the tailoring accentuated all of Holt’s finest features and didn’t look in the least bit like the usual bulletproof vests law enforcement wore. “I like your cuff links,” Isabelle teased her, admiring the pinup girls that adorned each of Holt’s cuffs.
“I thought my mother would like them.”
They were silent on the ride to the gala. Holt held tightly to Isabelle’s hand, and Isabelle prayed it wouldn’t be the last time.
The gala was held in a hotel ballroom, and when they arrived, it was already quite full. Balloons bobbed festively at each table, and the space looked like a perfect setting for a party. A band was setting up at the front of the room, just off the large dance floor, and a silent auction was being held in the smaller room next door. One wall was covered with pictures of smiling teenagers.
Isabelle dragged Holt over to them. Peanut was one of the kids looking out from a picture, dressed in a shirt and tie in the photo and looking almost nothing like the kid she had seen in her pool.
“You said Peanut was joining the program. What does that mean? Who are these kids?”
“Well, this gala is a fundraiser for a charity that I started a while ago. The running that you saw at the boxing gym was too. This is really the only way my parents and I still interact. I’ve chased quite a few of these kids after they get themselves in trouble and don’t know how to get out. I’ve got a deal worked out with the judges here. If the kids agree to join my program, they can avoid jail, but in return, they have to make good grades, stay out of trouble, be involved in a sport, after school tutoring, and when they graduate from high school, college tuition is paid if they want to go. My parents get to put their name on the program and brag about all the good work they do.”
“Ugh,” Isabelle said. “How is it that I hated you and your job, and now neither is true? Is this brainwashing? Stockholm Syndrome? Are you too good to be true?”
Holt looked uncomfortable, and Isabelle put her out of her misery by kissing her and grabbing her ass subtly under her jacket tails.
“Emily,” someone said a little too loudly. Isabelle wouldn’t have reacted except for the full body cringe she felt from Holt. She spun around and came very close to knocking a full glass of champagne into the woman who looked like an older, more feminine, more pretentious version of Holt.
“That hasn’t been my name since I was eighteen,” Holt said angrily.
“Oh, dear, why do you insist on constantly bringing up the past? I see you listened to my request and brought a date. It will look so much better for me and your father to have you finally be seen with someone. Now, we’ll have to get you two over to the press so you can get your picture taken. It will be in all the papers.”
“I don’t think so,” Holt said.
“May I steal you away a moment please, ma’am?” Jose asked Isabelle, suddenly by her side. He didn’t let her answer before leading her off, away from Holt and her mother.
“She asked me to keep that woman away from you. She’ll try to claim victory for Holt having a date, and if anything could drive you away from our lovely superhero, that creature is the thing.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Isabelle said. “Holt knows that. She was pretty horrible, though, and she was only talking for thirty seconds. What about Holt? Will she be okay?”
“She’s had years of practice getting out of those tentacles,” Jose said. “Shall I leave you safely with Amy? We decided last night I should be as visible as possibl
e tonight so Decker can find me if he’s here. And Holt wants me to stay away from you, except to rescue you from her mother.”
Almost as soon as Jose disappeared back into the crowd, Isabelle lost sight of Holt as well. She could still see Holt’s mother, looking annoyed and perplexed, but Holt was nowhere to be seen. She followed the horrible woman’s gaze just in time to see Holt ducking out one of the side doors, D East.
“Shit, where does she think she’s going?” Isabelle muttered, not hesitating as she scooted after her. She was pretty sure that wasn’t part of the plan. She looked for someone to tell, but there were no recognizable faces nearby. She didn’t want to distract Holt or put herself in danger, but if Holt was in trouble, it didn’t look like anyone else saw her leave.
“Isabelle, wait up,” Amy said, coming after Isabelle.
They hit D East at a good clip, and Isabelle pushed out into the night with Amy hot on her heels. They stopped outside the door, looking both ways. Holt was nowhere in sight.
“What’s that?” Amy asked. “Can you hear that? That sounded like someone in pain.”
“Come on,” Isabelle said, her heart pounding. She took off toward the noise Amy had heard. It sounded like Holt, and she didn’t sound good.
“Should we get someone?” Amy asked, following behind Isabelle.
“No time. I’m sure someone saw us leave. If we go back in now, we’ll lose them. I’m pretty sure my running through an alley after Holt because I heard her cry out in pain wasn’t part of the master plan. Seems like the plan is fucked. I wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.”
When they neared the end of the building, Isabelle slowed and cautiously stuck her head around the corner. The hotel where the gala was being held was in downtown Providence. Despite the improvements to the city, there was a violent underbelly that persisted, and sketchy buildings and dodgy alleys weren’t difficult to come by. Ahead of her stretched just such a location with Holt a terrifying focal point.
“Oh my God,” Isabelle said, pulling back, tears running down her face. She was terrified.
“There were three guys. They were dragging Holt. I don’t think she’s conscious. You don’t think they—”
“No,” Amy said forcefully. “I don’t. But let’s go make sure. Seems like we might be the only chance that idiot has of getting out of this mess. What the hell was she thinking?”
“She was trying to save me,” Isabelle said, the full horror of what could happen hitting her like a baseball bat to the gut.
“Shit. I know that, Isabelle. What do you say we return the favor?”
Isabelle nodded, and this time they both peeked around the corner. The coast was clear. Isabelle pointed at one of the buildings and they took off toward it. Although Amy was wearing a suit and sensible shoes, Isabelle wasn’t dressed for running down alleys. She ditched the high heels, said a prayer that she wouldn’t step on anything too gross or incapacitating, and carried on.
Just outside the door to the building Isabelle saw Holt being dragged into, Amy stepped on Holt’s cell phone.
“Must have fallen out of her pocket,” Amy said.
“That’s good,” Isabelle said. “Holt showed me an app Max made, kinda like a panic button. Once we find her, all we have to do is push the button and wait for help to arrive. Everyone has their phones with them tonight.”
“Push the button now. Why wait?” Amy said.
Isabelle opened the app and hit the big red panic button in the middle of the screen. Max apparently didn’t believe in subtle. “If we lose signal, they won’t be able to track us, so keep an eye on the bars in the corner.”
Cautiously, they pulled the door open and slipped inside. They were in an abandoned warehouse type building littered with junk, rotten furniture, and debris.
“This is just the kind of building movie bad guys bring their victims to,” Amy said.
Isabelle shuddered. She had instinctively followed Holt, hoping to protect her. But now that she was supposed to be the superhero, she was more than a little freaked out. There was junk all over the floor. She had no shoes. She had no weapons. What was she going to do once she actually found Holt? She saw the same questions in Amy’s eyes. It was too late to go back, so they pressed on. Hopefully, help would arrive soon.
They stayed out of sight as much as possible, ducking behind any cover they could find. As they moved further into the building, muffled conversation became audible. It sounded like someone was very, very angry.
Isabelle stopped abruptly, and Amy ran into her back. A man screamed with rage. He sounded very close. They inched forward, counted to three, and dared to look around a large filing cabinet shielding them. Fifteen feet in front of them, surrounded by a ring of portable lights, sat Holt, her face bloodied, her hands and feet tied to the chair she sat on.
Decker Pence walked into the light, cocked his fist, and punched Holt hard in the face. Isabelle fought the urge to charge at the man and beat him silly. She had once cowered in fear at an angry voice and a raised fist. Now she surprised herself with her strength. Amy must have sensed her desire because she put a steadying hand on her shoulder and held her in place.
Aside from the gun Decker was waving in his non-punching hand, Isabelle didn’t know who else was in the building, and she wasn’t much of a fighter.
“You know,” Holt said to Decker, “you really are a crappy host. No one has offered me anything to drink. This chair really should have an ottoman, and blood doesn’t go with my fucking suit. Do you know what this is going to cost to dry-clean?”
Holt looked calm, much calmer than Isabelle was feeling. From her body language and tone, Holt seemed to be under the impression she was in charge of the encounter.
“Do you think I won’t fucking kill you, bitch?” Decker yelled, waving his gun in Holt’s face. “After what you’ve done to me? You think you’ve got the moral high ground? We’re not different. You and I are the same.”
Holt still looked unimpressed. Isabelle didn’t know how she could stay so calm. Her own teeth were clacking together, and she couldn’t stop the flow of tears.
Amy pointed at Holt’s cell phone. “No signal. Unfucking believable. Hopefully, the signal we sent in the alley was enough.”
Decker yelled more insults at Holt and punched her again. She spit in his face, which he didn’t seem to take kindly to. He aimed the gun at Holt’s chest and pulled the trigger. Isabelle screamed.
A vacuum seemed to have been formed in the building. Isabelle couldn’t hear anything. She could barely see. Her legs felt too weak to hold her, or she would have run to Holt. People didn’t survive getting shot in the chest.
“Ouch,” Holt said sarcastically.
Holt’s voice cut through Isabelle’s fog. It took a few seconds to register, but then she almost laughed with relief. The tuxedo. Wondrous, amazing Jose had just bought Holt more time. She poked her head around the cabinet a fraction.
“Decker, she’s not bleeding or dead or anything,” a second man said nervously.
“Shut up, Gary. She’s obviously got a vest on under the suit,” Decker said, looking around the room suspiciously. “Did you hear that? Could have been a scream.”
“Wouldn’t it have been her?” Gary asked, pointing at Holt.
Holt smiled at Gary and blew him a kiss.
“I said shut up, Gary. Take your gun and the rest of the group and search this place. Top to bottom. If someone is in here, they better be tied to a chair next to this piece of trash in five minutes.”
“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Amy said. “We need to get back outside to get a signal anyway.”
“You go. I’m staying here. I think I can make their search a little harder. Make sure the rest of the group gets over here fast.” Now she felt calm too. Her head was clear, and she had a plan. Holt had cheated death once, but Isabelle didn’t want her to have to a second time. Holt needed her. It was time to step up.
Amy looked unsure, but when Isabelle nudged her t
oward the door, she started to pick her way back the way they had come.
“Oh,” Isabelle said quietly. “If you can find a way to turn off these lights, do it.”
Amy nodded and was gone.
Isabelle looked back out at Holt and Decker. She couldn’t see Gary, but she could hear him on the other side of the circle.
“Since we have a few minutes before you try again to kill me and whoever you’re hallucinating is out there,” Holt said, shifting her weight on the chair and looking like she was trying to get comfy, “I have a couple questions for you.”
Isabelle was amazed at Holt’s bravery. In the last half hour, she had been knocked unconscious, beaten, and shot in the chest, and even with the protection, she had to be hurting, but she was sticking to the plan and trying to get Decker to talk.
Suddenly, much to her horror, Isabelle realized the recording equipment wasn’t in this building. Even if Decker spilled his guts and Holt lived, it would be his word against hers. She had to record; she was the only one who could.
Isabelle took her cell phone out of her pocket and kissed it for good luck. All she could do was pray that the microphone was good enough to pick up Decker’s confession. There was a pile of boxes five feet to her right and three feet closer to Holt. She could hide her phone to record much better there, but she risked exposure if she moved.
When Gary reappeared in the circle of lights to briefly talk to Decker, and they conveniently turned their backs to where Isabelle hid, she made her move. She slid in behind the boxes with barely a sound and nestled her phone safely out of direct sight of the circle, but hopefully close enough to pick up the conversation. Once that was done, she waited.
The Chase Page 20