Hell Bent

by Heather Killough-Walden

  “Unbelievable,” Dylan shook his head, his expression one of barely hidden disgust. It was readily apparent to everyone in the car what he thought of Jack Thane.

  “That is pretty impressive,” Trinity finally offered. “I mean, he’s pretty hot, I’ll admit, so I can see why someone would marry him. And he’s loaded, too. That’s obvious,” she gestured to the car around them. “But why can’t he hang on to a wife?”

  “Cass thinks he’s codependent.” Annabelle said, smiling as she leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes. “Getting married for the wrong reasons, maybe. To the wrong people.” The Vicodin was beginning to make her sleepy. That, and the majorly stressful events of the past twenty-four hours. And the rough night of partying she’d had before that. Sheesh, when she really thought about it, she was running a rather hefty sleep deficit.

  No one said anything after that. The car’s inhabitants fell into a weary silence. Even Rose and Emma curled up on the soft carpet of the car and Trinity covered them each with one of her sweaters and the Victoria’s Secret hoodie that Annabelle offered.

  In a while, the limousine rolled to a smooth stop and everyone looked out the window.

  They sat silently and waited while a door opened in the front and Jack got out of the cab. He moved around the car to the door on Annabelle’s side and opened it.

  “I would ask you to stay here, but I realize that’s pointless,” Jack said as he leaned in, his arms draped over the door and the top of the car. He looked Annabelle in the eyes. She smiled wearily.

  “Yup. Pointless.”

  “Hell, I’m coming too. I’ve been looking forward to this.” Cassie leaned over Trinity to open the other door. Trinity took the cue and climbed out of the car to let Cassie out after her.

  Annabelle watched and then looked back up at Jack.

  “And by the way, luv,” he whispered as he straightened and she climbed out as well. “I am not co-dependent.”

  Annabelle’s brows rose. “You heard?”

  “Everything. The car is wired. It’s a Business vehicle.”

  Annabelle smiled. And then she laughed. That explained a lot. The car didn’t seem like Jack because it wasn’t. It was part of the façade he wore when… working. And it was probably the only vehicle he owned that would comfortably fit eight people.

  “Okay. Sorry about that.”

  “And, nice job with the puzzle. I’m impressed,” he added, leaning in to whisper the words against her ear. The feel of his breath across her skin made it tingle and his deep accent made her blood sing.

  He’s a married man, Annabelle. And you need sleep.

  “What’s going on with Clara?” She asked, wanting to turn the subject away from herself as quickly as possible.

  Jack didn’t answer right away. He looked over his shoulder at Dylan, who was getting out of the car after them, and then he turned back to face the expansive garage and the doors to the stairs at the other end.

  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  Annabelle left it at that and didn’t ask him any more questions. The look on his face told her he was more than a little distracted and had more than his fair share on his mind. She fell in step beside him and the others followed, including Alex, who brought up the rear. Cassie carried one of the sleeping girls and Trinity carried the other. They were out for the night.

  Annabelle envied them their peace.

  The group of eight made their way through the garage and into terminal. After a tram ride and a long hike down moving walkway after moving walkway, they entered the baggage claim area. It was crawling with late-night business travelers, people visiting their families on vacation, and tourists who flocked to the Twin Cities during its warmer months.

  Annabelle was not happy. Airports were some of her least favorite places on the planet. Every time a plane took off overhead, she cringed. And prayed that its passengers would have a safe journey.

  “’S about time, da’.”

  Jack spun around at the sound of his daughter’s voice. Annabelle turned as well. Before her stood a very attractive blue-eyed girl with jet-black hair and a nose ring. Her makeup was perfectly applied and genuinely enhanced her features, which included the afore-mentioned eyes, and lips that were exquisitely pouty. Annabelle knew where she’d gotten the eyes. The lips, on the other hand, must have come from her mother.

  And her figure wasn’t anything to laugh at, either. Dressed how she was, that much was easy to see. The girl was tall – perhaps an inch taller than Annabelle – and proportioned like a model. Pre-anorexia.

  She looked like she worked out a lot. In ultra-tight jeans filled with holes in all sorts of strange places, and a short, stretchy t-shirt that touted the finer qualities of some British band by the name of “Hundred Reasons”, Clara represented the quintessential daddy’s-little-girl-coming-of-age.

  Annabelle took a deep breath and thought, Oh boy.

  Dylan was apparently thinking the same thing, because he came up beside Annabelle and stared unabashedly.

  “Who’re your bosom companions, da’? Like to introduce us?” Clara suggested as she stared back at Dylan, a sly smile on her face. Her accent was so pronounced that Annabelle realized Jack almost sounded American in comparison. He’d been in the states too long.

  “Clara, a word in private please.” Jack stepped forward and firmly took his daughter by the elbow.

  “Jack, you right bugger! What in bloody ‘ell took you so long?”

  Jack let go of his daughter’s arm and looked over her shoulder.

  “Oh, Christ,” he swore softly. His entire body went rigid. A woman had come out of the bathroom and was making her way toward them. Sort of. She was weaving, really, was more like it. As if there were a line of orange cones in between her and Jack and she needed to wind in between each one to make points.

  “Oh yeah, da’, forgot to mention. Mum’s here,” Clara smiled. “And she’s ri’ pissed.”

  “Cor, blimey, but what a beastly flight,” the woman continued when she’d neared Jack. Still, she swayed slightly from side to side, as if she were a tall building in a strong gale. “You’ll have to forgive me, Jackie, but I’m a bit bladdered. You know how bleeding boring that flight can be and you can’t exactly bonk-” She stopped mid-sentence when she realized that she and Jack were not the only two people in the terminal. She swayed a little, her green eyes moving from Annabelle to Dylan to Trinity and so forth. And then she smiled a great big grin and opened her eyes wide.

  “Well hello!” she exclaimed, waving her arms above her head theatrically.

  “Right,” Jack said, taking sudden initiative. He moved forward, trading a grip on his daughter’s arm for one on his ex-wife’s, and proceeded to steer her out of the middle of the busy aisle, toward a row of seats along the windows on one wall.

  The others followed, including Clara, whose interest was currently divided between Dylan and the promising spectacle that her mother was making.

  Annabelle found herself hanging back a bit, feeling the need to give Jack and his ex-wife some space. It was a need that apparently she, alone, felt, because everyone else crowded around the couple, like piranhas.

  Beatrice Hughes, formerly Beatrice Thane, was a woman of average height and average build, but with anything-but-average cat-like green eyes and extra-pouty lips. Yup. Clara had her mother’s mouth.

  That thought brought a secret smile to Annabelle’s own lips.

  Beatrice’s hair was blonde, like her ex-husband’s, so Annabelle assumed that Clara’s jet-black mane was an excellent dye job. And it sort of complemented her very fair skin and very blue eyes. In essence, Clara had gotten the good genes from both of her parents. At least, on the outside. Who knew what went on beneath a person’s skin.

  “What in bloody hell are you two doing here?” Jack asked his ex-wife, his tone hard, his whisper loud enough to carry well past Annabelle. His jaw was tense and his posture was unyielding. As was the look in his sapphire eyes.

  �
��Oh, don’t be such a nark! We ‘aven’t seen you in a donkey’s years and you never give us a bell. Besides, I’ve always wanted to have a shufti at that gigantic canyon thing – is it far?” Beatrice leaned very far over to have a look around Jack’s looming figure, and nearly fell off of the seat when she did so. She barely seemed to notice Jack steadying her, as her gaze had once more fallen on Annabelle. “Is this your lovely new b-”

  “Beatrice, this is truly a terrible time. I’m putting you back on a plane tonight-”

  “Like bloody hell, you are!” That got her attention. She snapped straight and pinned Jack with a blood-curdling gaze. It would have had more the effect she was looking for if she hadn’t been swaying in her seat. She burped. “Sorry.”

  “Da’, we’ve come too far-”

  Jack whirled on his daughter and pinned her to the spot with his angry gaze. “I told you, Clara. It isn’t a good time.” He said the words carefully and slowly. His expression was incredibly meaningful.

  And it hit Annabelle. Clara knew what he was.

  Clara stared at her father belligerently. And then she blinked. She turned to look at Dylan. Then Annabelle. And then the rest of them. Her gaze lingered on the two little girls.

  “Them too, da’? Did you drag two babies into one o’ your messes?” Her tone was a touch more subdued now, but it was still evident that she was seventeen years old and had a rebellious streak. She was walking a thin line. Skirting around the subject but touching it ever so gently, teasing the truth like one would a rabid dog.

  Yet, Annabelle could see real concern in the girl’s blue eyes. She could empathize with that. Annabelle was worried about the girls too.

  But it wasn’t Jack’s fault, and she was about to say so when Beatrice sighed loudly.

  “Cor, dammit Jack.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, as if staving off a headache. “Can’t the chin wag wait? ”

  Now it was Jack’s turn to sigh.

  But whatever he’d been about to say was put forever on hold when Alex interrupted him. “Mr. Thane, we have company.”

  Jack turned to face him and the black-haired man gestured toward the terminal doors a hundred feet away, where detective Chen and her partner were holding up what looked like photographs and questioning airport security.

  Jack swore softly under his breath and ran a hand through his thick blonde hair. With a meaningful look toward Alex, who nodded, he leaned over and took hold of his ex-wife’s upper arm and pulled her from the seat. “We have to go, Bee.” He turned to fix his daughter with the same meaningful look and she, too, nodded.

  As Jack, Annabelle, Trinity, Cassie and Beatrice made their way hastily in the opposite direction from where Chen and Robinson stood amongst men in button-down white shirts and name tags, Clara and Alex spoke with each other hastily, blocking the aisle as much as possible with Clara’s bags.

  Annabelle glanced back just in time to witness what appeared to be a lover’s spat break out between Alex and Clara, shoving and all, as Jack’s group disappeared more deeply amidst airport travelers, eventually obstructing Annabelle’s view entirely.

  All she heard as they rounded a corner and joined a mass of people who were headed out into the taxi-laden streets was Clara’s voice, raised in faux anger, spouting obscenities at Jack’s employee, who, according to Clara, had cheated on her with an American bimbo from Texas.

  Up ahead, two airport security guards received radio calls and headed in the opposite direction of Jack’s group, passing Annabelle without a second glance. She knew, right away, that they’d been called to help break up the fight that Clara had started. The decoy provided just the right amount of time and distraction for Jack to lead them out into the Minnesota night and into the closest parking garage.

  When they were amidst cars and shadows, Annabelle moved up beside Jack, keeping pace with his long strides. “Is she going to meet us somewhere?”

  “She’ll try. She knows the drill.”

  Jack didn’t say anything more. His posture was tense and his expression was troubled. He had a lot on his mind. So, Annabelle didn’t ask him how his daughter had been dragged into his messy line of work. Maybe it wasn’t any of her business anyway. And, maybe it wasn’t all that hard to get dragged into your father’s business… After all, Annabelle had found herself amidst it and she and Jack weren’t even related.

  Annabelle walked quickly beside Jack and glanced over at his ex-wife. She was mostly being held up by her ex-husband, but she managed to get one foot in front of the other, even if her eyes were closed most of the time. Annabelle wondered if she knew too. She wasn’t demanding to know why they’d suddenly gotten up and departed in a hurry, leaving her teenage daughter and a thirty-year-old stranger behind to fight loudly over a big-titted Dallas blonde who didn’t really exist.

  So, maybe she knew after all. Maybe this wasn’t the first time Jack had put his family through something like this.

  Maybe, Annabelle thought, that’s why she divorced him.

  Jack glanced over at that moment and caught Annabelle’s gaze. She blushed. She felt almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking. She tore her gaze away to find that they’d managed to make it all the way back to the limo.

  Jack pressed a button on the key fob in his pocket and the doors unlocked. Annabelle took Beatrice’s arm, gently pulling the woman out of Jack’s grip. He let her go and made his way to the front of the car, claiming the driver’s seat. The rest of the crew piled into the back. Cassie helped Trinity with the twins while Dylan put his hand on Beatrice’s head to help her duck into the cabin of the car.

  When all of the doors were shut and everyone was safely inside, Jack pulled out of the lot.

  No one spoke for a long time.

  And then Cassie took a deep breath and blew it out in a loud sigh. “So, I guess we’re going to New York.” She turned to Annabelle and fixed her with a meaningful gaze. “Kind of a long drive, Ann.”

  “That’s why we’re flying,” came Jack’s voice over what sounded like an intercom system that had been wired throughout the car.

  Annabelle narrowed her gaze. “Like hell we are.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “No, Jack. No way. No how.” Annabelle put her hands on her hips and stared Jack down. She was standing in the back yard of a two-story house on a quiet neighborhood block in Ham Lake, a suburb city north of Minneapolis. Only she and Jack were outside, the rest of the group having congregated around the refrigerator and bar in the open kitchen and living room on the other side of the sliding glass doors. The night air was cool and the grass was wet with dew.

  “You know it’s our only option, Bella. We need to get there before Max’s killers get there and we can’t go without you.” Jack stood opposite her, his hands likewise on his hips, his expression pleading.

  “I said no.”

  He tried to reason with her. “You would let everything Max and his wife died for fall into the wrong hands just because you are afraid of fly- ”

  “No, Jack. Not afraid – terrified. Planes make no sense, for Christ’s sake! Big, heavy metal objects with little bitty wings that don’t even flap! How the hell does it even stay up there! No. Not me. Not now. Not ever.”

  “You could get plastered.”

  “Not plastered enough.”

  “Take your Vicodin.”

  “I’d still know, Jack. I’d still know that the engine could die at any minute and that you can’t just pull the frickin' plane over on a cloud and hop out and peek under the hood like you can a god-forsaken car, Jack!”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t care.”

  Annabelle glared at him. She took a slow, deep breath and exhaled through her nose.

  Jack took the opportunity to target her soft spot. “Dylan is depending on you, Bella. He’s lost both of his parents. Are you going to let him-”

  “Oh, don’t even go there, Jack!” Annabelle let out a sound of frustration and threw her hands up. She turned away from him and pinched the bridg
e of her nose. Jack didn’t say anything else, but then, he didn’t have to. Annabelle knew he was right. Even if Jack didn’t really care about Dylan Anderson, the truth was, Annabelle did. Jack had hit her where it hurt.

  When she turned back around to face him, he was waiting expectantly, his hands on his hips, his blue eyes blazing. She sighed, but it came out shaky.

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Jack. I might freak out on you mid-flight.”

  He considered her words a moment and then sighed as well. “Not a problem, luv. I think I’ve got just the thing.” He offered her his hand, and she hesitantly took it, feeling as though she was tentatively taking the hand of the devil. He smiled a smile that didn’t help assuage that notion and then led her into the house.

  When they closed the sliding glass door behind them and re-entered the kitchen, Annabelle was surprised to see Clara seated on the edge of the kitchen counter, her shoes propped up on one of the stools, Dylan seated across from her on the counter beside the fridge. Annabelle’s brow lifted.

  Clara noticed the surprised expression. “All ri’?”

  Annabelle blinked. “Umm…”

  “She means, ‘hi, how are you, and why are you surprised to see that she suddenly appeared in the kitchen when the last time you saw her, she was getting into a fight with one of my men at the airport.”

  Clara blinked, brows risen, and cocked her head to one side, her gaze flitting from her father to Annabelle. Annabelle smiled and blushed.

  “Cor, da’, no need ta get narked. I get the point.” She turned to Annabelle again. “Sorry, Miss Drake.”

  “Clara is familiar with this house and… unfortunately, with the little act she pulled in the terminal.”

  “I was aces, yeah? Alex wasn’t too shabby either. Once we agreed to leave the airport, they let the cuffs off and Alex got us a ride. We drove around for a while to throw any taggers off and, then bob’s your uncle, here we are!” Clara smiled a brilliant, white smile and winked at Dylan, who tried to act cool about it but was very obviously blushing beneath his calm demeanor.

  Jack didn’t say anything. Annabelle watched him carefully. There was a carnival of thought going on behind his shaded blue eyes.