Benjamin got it quickly. His eyes lit. "That...could work."
Yes, there was a slim possibility it would work. But the best part was it would keep Aletheia away from any action. Mostly away, anyway. But perhaps there was a method to remove her completely...
"For this we'll need a few pay-as-you-go cell phones," Felix declared. "Something untraceable." He paused, doing his best to look innocent. "I'll run right now to the nearest drugstore and pick up a couple."
Aletheia's head lifted. Her eyes narrowed at him.
Felix did his best to continue looking innocent.
It worked like a charm. She knew he was up to something. Her nostrils distending, Aletheia decided, "I'll come with you."
Of one thing she was apparently convinced: Felix wanted to ditch her. She was perfectly correct, of course. All she lacked was the knowledge of how he intended to do that.
She wouldn't find out until it was too late.
Felix turned to Benjamin. "It's best if you stay out of sight."
Sighing, Benjamin nodded. "But be quick, okay?"
"We'll be as quick as we can," Felix promised, getting up from his chair.
Aletheia rose too. Her eyes were sharp on Felix.
Much luck would it do her. Felix had the considerable advantage of his dark personality and years of experience in unfeeling acts.
Indeed, he didn't feel one drop of guilt as he followed her out the motel room door.
Ah, poor Aletheia. This was going to be easy.
~~~
They found a branch of a large chain drugstore about a mile from the motel. The bright colors of the sign's logo beamed over an asphalt parking lot, cheerfully at odds with the tension riding inside Aletheia. A woman had been kidnapped. Dangerous criminals were after her brother, and her lover was about to betray her. Yeah, some tension there.
After parking the Lexus beneath a spreading tree in the lot, Felix turned off the motor and commanded, "Don't get out."
"Excuse me?" Aletheia widened her eyes. Did the man think she was going to let him go into the drugstore without her? Did he think her that slow?
Felix looked into his rearview mirror. "I want to make sure we haven't been followed."
Oh. Okay. That made sense. But Aletheia didn't relax. Glancing out the window, she wondered if Felix realized what shaky ground he'd gotten on with her. But then he probably wanted to be on shaky ground, she decided sourly.
They sat in the car for nearly five minutes, neither of them talking. For certain they didn't discuss what Felix had been up to, handcuffing Benjamin. Just thinking about it made Aletheia's jaw tighten.
She knew what Felix had been up to. He'd wanted her to believe the worst of him. Yes, he thought she'd do that—after she'd done her damn best to show him the opposite, that she did trust him. For heaven's sake, he was the first person she'd trusted or depended on since her mother had died.
But Felix couldn't handle that. He insisted on playing the bad guy. It was almost a competition—to see if he could shake her perception of his character.
"All right," Felix now grunted, finally lowering his gaze from the rear view mirror. He unlocked the car doors. "Let's go inside."
The summer evening sun made long shadows slant across the asphalt as they got out of the car and made their way to the entrance of the drugstore. Aletheia made sure to match her pace to Felix's longer-legged strides.
He wouldn't give her the slip that easily.
Inside, Felix started immediately down an aisle of summer picnic equipment and swim toys, the dominant colors yellow and orange. "We should split up," he said quietly as Aletheia jogged to keep up with him. "I don't want to stand out too much, buying nothing but two cell phones." He stopped beside a lawn chair set, giving no indication he'd heard how nonsensical he sounded. Who cared if they stood out? They'd be calling the police themselves soon. "Why don't you pick up some cosmetics," he suggested. "Maybe some over-the-counter medication? We'll meet at the checkout."
Oh, right. Did Felix imagine she hadn't figured out he meant to ditch her?
"Don't you think it would be less conspicuous if we stuck together, looked like a couple?" Aletheia asked.
Felix shot her a glance. Aletheia thought they were both during their best to look innocent, while both knowing exactly what was going on. He shrugged. "If you like."
He wasn't giving up, though. She knew that. A curling tension radiated from him.
This wasn't about keeping her safe. Aletheia would be safe enough locked in their new hotel room while Felix risked his neck trying to bargain with Goddard. This was about Felix using another opportunity to try driving her out of the relationship.
He thought if he ditched her in the drugstore she'd never forgive him. More precisely, he hoped that's what would happen. For some reason, he was unable to handle her trust in him.
An alien sensation sifted through Aletheia, something she barely recognized, so infrequently did she allow it to creep in.
The sensation was despair.
"We're tourists, right?" Felix muttered, leading the way past the summer equipment aisle and turning left. He started down an aisle of magazines. The bright smiles of assorted celebrities watched them stride past. "Maybe we should find some disposable cameras, as well." He paused at the end of the magazines and frowned. "Maps." He pulled out a folded map of Massachusetts.
Studying it, he took care not to look at Aletheia. Guilty conscience? No. He was sure what he was doing was right.
"I'm going to look for some cell phones now," he announced, "You find a couple cameras." Then he strode off, seemingly forgetting his agreement to stick together.
Aletheia gave him a second to think he'd gotten ahead of her, then followed. Her despair ballooned. She'd considered Felix a challenge, but maybe she'd been wrong.
Maybe he was simply impossible.
At the center of the store, the aisles ended in a sort of open hall. She saw Felix three aisles down. He'd paused to glance back. Probably checking to see if he could disappear on her.
Seeing her, he gave a curt nod, then proceeded down the aisle, apparently resigned he hadn't yet been able to shake her.
Feeling like a black cloud were hanging over her, Aletheia followed after. She briefly wondered if she should simply let Felix succeed in losing her. Just let him go, in every way. She feared she'd made a serious error in judgment with him. Of course she had. When it came to the big things, the emotional ones, didn't she always screw up? With Felix she'd jumped right in, acting on wishful thinking—on fantasy—rather than reality.
For his own reasons, and with perfect stubbornness, Felix was determined to reject her caring and love. He wanted her gone, both emotionally and physically.
A smart woman would take herself off.
But Aletheia's brother was involved. The fate of many people were tangled up in this whole thing. She couldn't leave Felix physically. She had to help.
She hurried to the aisle he'd gone down, turned, and saw a twenty-foot long display of hair care products.
But no Felix.
"Damn." How could he have moved that fast? Aletheia broke into a run, zipping past the various shades of brown and blond. She scuffed to a stop at the back of the store, then looked both ways.
Still no Felix.
"Double damn!" He was getting away with it. That stuck in her craw. He shouldn't get away with something so...craven.
Choosing a direction at random, she took off, stopping at each aisle to look down it. She checked for a large, hard-faced man. The aisle of cold medications: no Felix. The aisle of electronic equipment—where he should have been—no Felix. Hell. Maybe she should have run in the opposite direction, but it was too late to turn around and hope to catch him if she'd guessed wrong. She ran to the next aisle. Picture frames, but she thought she caught a glimpse of a leg leaving the aisle at the other end, a leg with a male shoe that looked at lot like Felix's.
She sped down the aisle. He wasn't getting away with this. Oh, no. Sh
e flew past gold and silver picture frames, ceramic figurines and table lamps, down to the end of the aisle. Panting, she rounded the corner, nearly slamming into Felix's back as he stood there, solid and unmoving. His expression was like granite.
"Wha—?" Aletheia started to say, then looked beyond Felix. She saw two men in U.S. Army uniforms.
"Mr. Roman. Ms. Cooper?" One of them said.
Aletheia's heart stopped. They knew who they were. How did they know that?
"We're from Colonel Viceroy," the one who'd already spoken said. He took a step forward. "He'd like to see you now, please."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It probably wasn't a good idea to win at cards when you were playing with your jailers. This thought occurred to Zara as she sat on a creaky wooden stool in a dusty storeroom by the waterfront and stared at the budding full house in her hands.
She eyed the two men set to guard her, the same two large men of white baggy shirts who'd chased her and Benjamin through downtown Boston. They looked bored and disgruntled. Playing the hand out would be stupid.
But then, how smart had she been acting since meeting Benjamin? She was sitting here actually glad the bad guys had caught her instead of him. Glad! That had to take the prize for stupidity.
One of the men, the one starting to sprout a beard over his heavy acne, looked up and said something curt and impatient in a language so foreign Zara couldn't place it. Neither fellow had yet spoken a word of English, but when they'd produced the pack of cards an hour ago, Zara had perceived they understood the rules of poker.
When Zara had motioned she'd like in on the game, they'd seemed nonplussed, but too proud to deny her a seat on one of the wooden stools beside a rickety table. Some foreign words and laughter had been exchanged between the two; they'd probably assumed they'd whip her butt. Beside Zara sat a large stack of the torn bits of paper they were using as chips, silently testimony to the mistakenness of this assumption.
Now Zara took five of those chips and tossed them into the center, calling the bet. The improvised chips fluttered down as cheerful as confetti. It was a safe bet, neither here nor there. She could still pull back, fold, assuage their male pride. She still had time to prod her brain back into motion.
Maybe Zara's brain was offline because it was stuck on those three little words Benjamin had foolishly uttered. I love you.
She bit her lip and looked down at the gambler's pot of torn papers. She couldn't help wondering, despite herself, if Benjamin could possibly have meant those words.
Nah. Zara couldn't think of anybody who'd ever loved her. Certainly none of the men with whom she'd hooked up had felt the emotion toward her. Some had been kind, some had been generous, a few had even been affectionate, but none of them had mourned when the split came. Even her father hadn't mourned when Zara took off straight out of high school. From what he'd told her, she'd been nothing but a burden since the day she was born.
Sometimes late at night when she was all alone, Zara imagined that her mother had loved her. But since her mother had abandoned her when Zara was a year old, that theory never could stand the light of day.
So now, dare Zara contemplate Benjamin actually did what no one else ever had? Dare she take such a chance?
Hope tangled with cynicism.
The other guard, the one with heavy, dark brows, raised Zara's bet.
Zara came back to the real world. She had to figure out her play here, in more ways than one. If she wanted to escape, she needed a plan. Her gaze rose. Her eyes and Beetle-brow's met.
In the man's eyes, Zara saw...a possibility. Willingness to play a game other than cards. She saw a good chance he'd be happy to make a trade in that game.
But hope took a crazy leap over such jaundiced musings. If hope was right, Zara didn't want to play that game with any man but Benjamin. She reached for her paper chips, called Beetle-brow's bet, and raised.
Neither Beetle-brow nor Acne-face seemed able to credit the possibility Zara might have better cards than they did. It was an odd sort of machismo. A fierce betting war ensued.
When everybody's cards were finally turned up, Zara saw her full house had beat a measly ace-high and two pair. A child could win against these dopes.
Beetle-brow swore and threw down his cards. "Leetle bitch!" he exclaimed.
Preserving a calm front, Zara raised her eyebrows. It seemed he knew some English, after all.
Leaning an elbow on the table and squinting one eye, Beetle-brow pointed at Zara and proved he knew even more. "You be good girl, betta," he warned.
Acne-face grunted and gave him a shove, but Beetle-brow only shoved back and straightened importantly on his wooden stool. "Boyfriend you come, betta," he told Zara. He wagged a finger with an ugly smile. "Or you bad trouble you."
Yes, Zara had deduced they were holding her as bait or ransom. "Benjamin isn't going to help you scumbags."
Beetle-brow's smile twisted into an expression of triumph. "He betta come betta," he warned. "Or you..." He stopped to draw a finger across his throat, a far more efficient way to get his point across than pidgin English.
Zara could not prevent herself from swallowing.
Beetle-brow must have seen the betraying gesture, for he laughed. He motioned between himself and Acne-face. "You nice," he told Zara. "We nice." The leer he then gave her was unmistakable in any language. "You nice nice," he informed Zara, "we not..." and he made the throat-cutting pantomime again.
Acne-face joined Beetle-brow then in an avid stare. Zara felt as though she were being mentally undressed and possessed.
Rather than feel insulted, Zara grasped the potential of the situation. If they wanted her badly enough, she might be able to finagle her way out of this imprisonment.
But her crazy brain was stuck. I love you. What if Benjamin really did? What if he actually cared so much that he was even then devising a plan for her rescue? Benjamin was as smart as they came. If he put his mind to it, he could figure out a way to save her.
The only doubt was...did he care?
"What say?" asked Beetle-brow.
Acne-face licked his lips. In his face was the same question.
It wouldn't take much. Zara knew all the moves. But—but something inside rebelled, wanted—wished. The wish was so big and so strong that it seemed to grow of its own accord. As Zara sat there, it grew into a tyrant. She wished to be special enough to be a woman for one man only, to possess both her own self-respect and his.
Benjamin might love her. He might. The first. The only.
And, oh, how she loved him. Okay, fine. She admitted it. She loved him.
Zara crossed one knee over the other on her wooden stool. From there, she gave the two guards a look of utter condescension. "You. Must. Be. Kidding."
They may not have understood the words, but they got the tone. Acne-face's expression merely fell, but Beetle-brow looked ugly.
Stupid, Zara thought of herself. This dictator hope was as dumb as it got. Nevertheless, she picked up her winnings, determined to hold on to her fine hope and also this new pride. "You better be nice to me." She waved the paper chips. "You owe me something like ten thousand whatever-these-ares." She dumped the chips into her stack and motioned toward the cards. "You going to deal, or what?"
Beetle-brow appeared to consider whether he wanted to deal, or cut her throat right then.
Somehow, Zara managed not to swallow again.
Benjamin would come, she told herself. He'd figure something out. He loved her.
Either that, or she was the dumbest cluck who'd ever been born.
~~~
The soldiers in the front seat of the army jeep wouldn't tell Felix anything substantial as the vehicle hurtled down the Mass Pike back toward Boston. They seemed fairly jovial, however. The one who'd first spoken to them in the drugstore went so far as to admit they'd used a new military GPS technology to locate Felix using his cell phone.
"Gotta love them guys in the engineering corps." He grinned cheerfully.
"Now the colonel doesn't have to hope you'll answer your phone and accept his invitation."
Felix grunted a vague reply and hoped the soldiers couldn't see his relief. Thank God they hadn't locked onto his signal until after he'd left Benjamin back in the hotel room. On the other hand, Colonel Viceroy clearly believed Felix and Aletheia had some information regarding Benjamin's whereabouts.
So Felix hadn't known how to refuse Viceroy's 'invitation' without causing more suspicion. Besides, the soldiers could simply have followed him and Aletheia once they'd left the drugstore.
Now, in the jeep, Felix covertly glanced over at Aletheia. She sat beside him on the plastic green upholstery, her gaze forward, frowning.
Viceroy was going to be sadly disappointed. Aletheia would never give her brother to the army colonel. Even though Viceroy was a government authority, Felix had to admit he wouldn't be inclined to turn Benjamin over to him, either. Viceroy wouldn't give a damn about the kidnapped Zara, particularly once he got his hands on the Cloak-making scientist.
This little trip was a wrinkle in their plan, no doubt about it. It would set them back an hour, maybe more, depending on how hard it would be to shake Viceroy. Felix was calculating how they could get back to Benjamin without a tail from the colonel when the rattling army jeep exited the Mass Turnpike.
Frowning, Felix stopped thinking about their plan and felt his senses go on alert. They were past downtown Boston. The jeep had coasted off the highway and into an area of old brick warehouses. The setting sun had a hard time reaching down the narrow streets.
Felix's heart started to speed up as the car went further into the maze of dark-windowed buildings. Did he smell the ocean? Were they by the docks?
"Almost there," the amiable soldier behind the wheel informed them.
"Where?" Aletheia asked. "Where are you taking us—and why?"
The driver shrugged. "All I do is follow orders, ma'am. Got an address here and s'posed to take you to it. That's it."
Deep inside, Felix could feel his darkness begin to gather. Automatically, he reached for control. He needed to think here. For Aletheia's sake, he couldn't afford to let the darkness mess up his mind.
I Gotta Feeling Page 22