“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says. “I need to make some calls now.”
“Wait!”
He closes the door behind him, locks it. “This is for your own safety, Ms. Elliot. Try to relax. You’ll be going home tomorrow.”
I nearly bang my fists against the wall again, but the movement produces an uncomfortable memory—I abort it quickly.
What is it with people feeling the need to lock me in lately? At least, Carter didn’t have a gun, or maybe she did and I never saw it. In any case, she did have me drugged, but we moved past that. I can’t leave here—wherever “here” is—because so far, McKinley has only told me we’re on an island which I figured out a long time ago.
There’s an indefinable stain on the couch. I frown. Aren’t safe houses supposed to be clean? I guess this is old…but if they were suspecting Carter of any wrongdoings, wouldn’t they have more time to prepare everything?
I go to the window, lift the curtain and sneeze as a cloud of dust is set free. The street is empty and dark, but the street light a few feet away illuminates McKinley, pacing on the sidewalk, the cell phone at his ear. At least he didn’t lie to me about that—does that mean it’s true, they have all this proof?
It’s not possible.
When I first woke up in Carter’s house, I couldn’t stop thinking of all the possible worst case scenarios, now, I can’t bring myself to go there.
I make a decision—and I know I have to act quickly, because I’m sure McKinley is calling in reinforcements.
I have to find Marlene and warn her, tell her to contact Carter. That cop she was talking about will be able to help her. My first problem…getting out of here. The lock is an old-fashioned one with a bulky key that hardly ever see anymore, but that doesn’t help me. There’s nothing in the room that would help me push it out, so the junior detective tricks are out. I manage to open the window. McKinley has gone inside, but it’s a long way down. I realize I can see the harbor in the distance, which doesn’t really tell me much. Maybe I could make it there, find someone to talk to, with a phone.
I try to ignore the uncomfortable thought that I have neither money nor ID on me. For now, getting away is priority.
There’s a small balcony to the right. I wonder if I could make it that far, and if there’s any advantage to it. Maybe I’ll be stuck in somebody’s bedroom—but no, this is all the same house. I don’t believe agents would put people in houses that are already occupied, would they? Damn it, I have no idea. I know nothing about any of this except from TV, and I never thought I’d be in this situation.
I have to try this—there’s no other way. I climb out on the sill, still holding on to the window frame. Okay, it’s not that high, but I don’t want to make the jump anyway. Excuse me if I have trust issues…oh no, not now, I’m not going to cry again. Against all odds, I make it to the balcony—what now?—when a car pulls up in front of the house. I shrink back against the wall, cowering in the corner to not be seen by the two men exiting the car.
A cold shiver skitters down my spine when I recognize one of them. Immediately I know I have to get away, no doubt, or I might never make it home. He’s the man in the black and white picture, the alleged trafficker.
McKinley showed me ID, but let’s be honest, how would I’ve been able to verify its authenticity? It looked real. Whether or not it was, it’s clear all of a sudden who the bad guys are. I hear them talking, walking up the stairs.
I have no choice. I swing my legs over the railing, stand on the small ledge and hope for the best.
Ow, ow, ow! I bite my lip not to cry out when I land on the pavement, my eyes watering. I carefully stretch my legs and get to my feet, my stomach churning at the sight of blood trailing down my leg. Nothing broken though, just scraped skin, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to walk—run—which I have to. I have no idea where I am as I stumble along, motivated by the angry voices I can hear from the second floor. I can only hope this road will bring me somewhere closer to safety.
I can’t believe how naïve I’ve been. I should have trusted my gut. For once, it would have been smart to trust.
They will come after me, I know, because now I can ID them. Is Marlene really in on the scheme? I doubt it. If only I can get back to the house and we can call Carter...At the end of the road starts a more industrial area, with warehouses and factories. This must be closer to the harbor, right? The slope of the street doesn’t allow me to see far, but at least, the men coming after me can’t see me either.
The bad news…all of these doors are locked, there is literally nowhere and no one who can help me. There’s light in some of the factory buildings. I find a door with a sign that probably reads “staff only” in a language unknown to me…but it could also mean “danger”. Damn. There’s the sound of a car, tires screeching. Is it them?
What a stupid question, who else would it be? When I hear footsteps, I dash to the other side of the building and cower behind a dumpster. I don’t like myself very much at the moment—it doesn’t matter. I have to do what I can to get out of this alive. I duck, trying to ignore the dirt and smell and to evade the headlights coming in my direction.
What did I do?
This kind of people won’t simply give up, will they? Obviously, they had plans with me. I realize I’m shaking, hard, and it’s definitely not from the temperature.
Another stream of light.
It’s from a flashlight.
“Ms. Elliot?” McKinley’s voice is dangerously close. “Come on, don’t be silly. You know we’re going to find you.”
Not if I have anything to say about it…
I stick close to the wall, slowly making my way further away from the dumpster and to the corner of the building. If I can just get around, and away…to where? As far away as possible from McKinley and his associate, that’s where. I realize my calculations were all wrong when I turn around and find myself face to face with the man I was so cleverly trying to get away from.
This time, he has the gun trained on me. Shit. The other man is nowhere to be seen.
“Come over here, Penny,” McKinley says. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
I would, but my legs don’t obey.
“Don’t be stupid!” he yells. “Maybe I’ll find you’re not worth all this trouble after all.”
He raises his hand, and then a shot rings out at the same time I’m dropping to the floor, hands over my head.
“Who’s stupid now?”
I can’t believe my ears, it must be a hallucination, but when I slowly lift my head, my vision supports that hallucination. It’s Carter, standing over McKinley who clutches his side, shouting obscenities at her. I can see blood seeping through his fingers. I have no idea what to make of any of this.
“Come on, we need to go. The police will be here soon.” She reaches out to help me get up and I’m standing in front of her, scraped knees bleeding, the clothes that she bought for me torn and dirty. The guilt comes crashing down on me, and what’s more, I feel incredibly foolish.
Carter’s gaze on me is devoid of the same judgment, but we will have to have that conversation soon, I assume. There are sirens in the distance.
“There’s no time for this,” she says, and when I still don’t react, she grabs my hand tightly and drags me with her. I still hurt, but getting away from McKinley and the other guy, and, yes, the local police, is a big motivator—to go home. I might be out of my mind, fear, pain, not knowing what the next moment will bring.
On the bright side—and I’m in desperate need of one—Carter seems to know the way. I stare in disbelief when she unlocks the passenger side of the beaten down Dodge.
“That is…”
“The vehicle I use for situations exactly like this. I wouldn’t want to bring any of my other cars into the neighborhood.” She pauses for a moment. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely reliable. Now let’s get out of here.”
I still can’t believe she’s really here
, a beautiful vision in her black top, leather jacket and jeans. My self-reproach increases tenfold when it comes to mind that I not only risked my life, but hers as well. That’s not the way to pay a person back.
“How did you…?”
“Nick had his eyes on this guy from the beginning,” she says, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the road. “When you were gone and our fake gardener nowhere to be found, he assumed the worst. You scared me.”
I shiver at the raw emotion in her voice. Raw. I can relate. “I’m so sorry.” I really am. First, I get myself into this trouble and she has to save me like I’m some damsel in distress—so she owns a gun, after all—and now I disintegrate into a bawling mess. Rarely have I disliked myself so much.
“It’ll be okay,” she says softly. “This guy isn’t as badly hurt as he deserves to be, and the police will take care of him. Nick called them. Now let’s get you cleaned up, drink some whiskey and then we’ll forget about this.”
“Forget?” I wince at the high pitch of my voice. “Do you know who these people are?”
A drop of cold sweat snakes down my spine. I remember the picture, with Carter. “The gardener, he said his name was McKinley, FBI, and the other one…”
“I know him.” Carter’s voice is quiet, determined. “Believe me, I want nothing of his business. I didn’t find out until later…Now that there were shots fired, the local police will take care of it. Nick and I have been keeping tabs on him, and working with the locals, but he’s clever. Associating himself with someone who pretends to be FBI, that will hopefully help.”
I try to take in all this information, make sense of it.
“There’s a lot you haven’t told me.” I decide that sounds too much like sulking, and I hurry to explain. “Not that you’re obliged to tell me any of this…I want you to know I didn’t want to go with him, but he showed me that picture. He had a gun.”
She briefly takes my hand, squeezes it gently. “I know. I promise it will be okay.”
Chapter Eleven
Carter
Who the hell am I to make such a promise? Nothing is even remotely okay, not yet, and the list of problems has just grown. I can still feel the sensation of my stomach lurching when Nick told me what happened. Ever since, I’ve been scolding myself for not listening to him earlier, but I won’t dwell now that I have Penelope back with me, safe and mostly sound.
What more can I ask for, really?
I’ll have to hope that the police won’t look too closely at a crook getting shot in a dubious neighborhood, and that they will finally get to Laydon, the man who once tried to get me to invest in the movie industry—educational movies. In the aftermath of that meeting, Colette was able to make a few arrests, but it wasn’t enough to get to him. As if I don’t have enough on my plate…
Next to me, Penelope is silent, curled up in the passenger seat as we near the property. There’s a lot I could tell her, but I’m not sure if any of it would make her feel better. I think for now, it’s better to stay with the narrative, the fantasy. Better for the two of us.
Once we’re back home, I make her wait for me in the master bathroom as I assemble bandages, antibiotic cream and scissors. I shake my head to myself. I can’t believe she jumped from that balcony! I know Penelope feels bad because she needed me to help out, but she did a good job of getting away from her captors in the first place.
What if…The thought is chilling, and I don’t finish it all the way through. My fault I didn’t know that one of my employees was associated with Laydon.
I don’t regret shooting him, for what he did, and what he attempted to do.
Penelope sits in the rattan chair, a resigned look on her face as if she has already accepted the fact that this is going to hurt even more.
“I’ll be quick,” I promise. “Remember. Whiskey.”
“I try,” she says in a small voice. She bites her lip as I clean the wounds, nothing major, but I’m sure it hurts. Her eyes well up.
“I’m sorry, baby. Almost done.”
I’m ready to give her a sponge bath as well, but she shakes her head, for the first time, with the hint of a smile. “I can do it myself. Thanks.”
“Okay. I’ll get you your PJs.”
I’m already at the door when her voice holds me back.
“Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I walk back to her, lean in to carefully kiss her forehead. I can feel her trembling. “Of course.”
My own hands are unsteady too as I pick the shorts and top from one of the drawers. Most of the time, I have things under control, even after Penelope arrived here, but today, that control has been fragile at times.
I can’t wait to finally get to the booze I promised us.
* * * *
Tonight, I take her out on the terrace. I’m not worried that she could run away, after all, where to? There’s nowhere to go, and the dangers on the outside should convince a person to stay put. My face flushes hotly as I remember that the danger came right here to my doorstep. Damn, I know Nick hires good people, but a man with a gun still made it onto the premises and almost into my house. I’ll have to call in a meeting and have a stern word with everyone. I don’t care what they are used to where they come from—if they’re not working security, I won’t allow any guns on employees. They’ll just have to deal with it.
Penelope and I clink our glasses together and both drink deeply form our tumblers. She coughs a little.
“Thank you,” she says, making an all-encompassing gesture. “For everything.”
“You don’t need to thank me. They broke into my house.”
“…and took something that was yours?” she asks wryly.
Yes, exactly.
“I care about you.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, before she says, “I know. It’s just…it’s been a damn long day.”
“Believe me, I know what you mean.”
“Yeah.” She takes another sip, leaning back in her chair. “You saved my life today. I think I’m going to need a moment.”
I get up to draw her into my arms, to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”
“Why not?” she sniffles. “You are crying.” The absurdity of the moment makes us both crack up with laughter. Emotions will be running high for a bit—what else is new? All I want is to hold her close, to assure myself that she’s okay, and I’m this close to telling her the whole truth, but I step back from that ledge at the last moment.
There’s so much to be misinterpreted, to be misunderstood. She is the one, and I chose her. That’s all that matters.
I refill our glasses, thinking I should get in touch with Colette and get an impression of what the situation is. If Penelope’s friends and family are panicking, I hope Colette will be able to contain the fallout. We have more important things to do here.
Sex is the furthest from our minds when we make it to the bedroom, but it’s good to be close, skin to skin with only little fabric in between. Who would have thought I was even capable of falling in love like that? It’s still new, challenging, terrifying. I’m not sure I could handle it in a setting where it was up to Penelope to decide if or when to leave. I don’t ever want to let her go…and at the moment, I believe she doesn’t even mind.
* * * *
We have breakfast on the terrace, the sun already high in the sky, another day in paradise. It was tough, after joyous moments of waking up, to leave her, still sleep-warm and deep in dreamland, but the show must go on. Work, checking on the local police investigation, leaving a message for Colette—all of this is done by the time Marlene has set the table outside and a sleepy Penelope emerges from my master suite. She’s still in PJs, looking younger than her age. She bears the marks of last night’s incident, a sight even more chilling in the light of day.
“Good morning,” I say. “You look like you’d appreciate a good strong coffee.”
As if on cue, she yawns, chuckles.
“I can’t deny that. Is it okay if I get dressed later?”
“Sure. Let’s eat.” In an attempt to lighten the mood further, I add, “besides, I like the sight.”
“I bet,” she says, amused.
I direct my attention from the neckline of her shirt to my plate. I asked Marlene for full-on brunch. After yesterday, and skipping dinner in favor of dealing with criminal assholes and getting drunk…Sometimes, a person’s got to eat. I wonder how Penelope and I will settle into this changed reality, if we can quietly go back to the way things were, the weekend on the yacht, and before. Maybe now she’ll be able to slow down and have that time-out that is part of a carefully crafted story. Well, maybe not carefully enough. I haven’t had time yet to deal with the worried friends and family of Penelope. I had a couple of people on that, and the initial contact went fine, according to reports, but something must have changed. They were instructed to take cover in case someone might question their stories too hard.
I should be there now, but I don’t want to leave Penelope. If those people want to continue to work for me, they’ll have to learn to take initiative.
We have about five minutes of peace when the sound of rapid footsteps interrupts the leisurely breakfast.
I am startled to see Colette, Marlene on her heels. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Forbes. She said it couldn’t wait.”
If yesterday never happened, I’d say this is the worst case scenario. The security of this place breached again—Marlene should know better than letting anyone in here without asking first. I’m sure Colette can be convincing when she gets her Special Agent on, but she should know better than to try this here, with me.
She was never meant to meet Penelope. I can see realization dawning on her face, and Penelope has probably figured out who Colette is as well. My house of cards is about to crumble.
Surrender Your Heart Page 11