Escapade

by Lisa Marie Rice

  He helped a dripping Elle into the car, got behind the wheel and moved the car without switching on the headlights. He took a side road and then another to get out of sight from the river. Only then did he stop and switch on the lights.

  Elle’s teeth were chattering and she was deathly pale.

  God.

  Bennett always kept a go-bag for emergencies. He had some elegant business clothes but he also kept clean sweats and socks. He also kept a fleece blanket and a crinkly thermal blanket. In a second, he was sitting beside her, stripping her of all her clothes, trying to dry her off roughly, dressing her with one of his tee shirts, a fleece jacket, his sweat pants which nearly fell off her, clean dry socks. He had all the hot air vents directed toward her and had turned her seat warming system on.

  He himself was still soaking wet but he knew himself and knew he was far from hypothermia. Right now, getting Elle to someplace warm was essential.

  He peeled rubber getting out of there, driving as fast as he could without attracting police attention. Some traffic cams would catch him and he’d get some tickets later.

  As if he gave a fuck.

  He flicked a glance at her as he overtook a city bus. “I don’t have anything warm to give you to drink, honey,” he said. Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. His thumb on her wrist showed her pulse as weak, sluggish. Her skin was still clammy and icy cold. “I’ll make some tea as soon as we get home.”

  As soon as we get home.

  Home.

  She glanced at him and nodded, trying to smile. Yeah. That apartment had turned into a home for both of them.

  He pressed on the accelerator. Until he heard sirens, he was going to push the envelope.

  He tapped the speed dial on the automated phone system on the dashboard. One ring and it was picked up. Something in him relaxed just a little on hearing that deep voice.

  “Larssen speaking.”

  Yeah. Steve Larssen. They’d served together. Steve was cool and unflappable. He could do a crossword puzzle while killing tangos but what was even more important, he’d also trained as a medic.

  “Steve. I have my principal with me. She spent about twenty minutes in the Thames and is at risk of hypothermia. Hospitals are out of the question.” The Lipov mob would be monitoring all hospital emergency wards. “Can you meet us at Sierra Hotel?”

  Sierra Hotel was the safe house.

  “Roger. Be there in twenty.” He disconnected.

  Bennett could have kissed him on the mouth. Five words, conveying everything that had to be said. Anyone listening — though they were on secure comms — wouldn’t have a clue. But Steve had everything he needed to know. Steve knew the contract was for a woman and knew what was at stake. He’d be at the safe house in twenty and if he wasn’t, it meant he was dead.

  A huge weight lifted from his chest.

  Bennett didn’t trust himself to treat Elle. He had been a SEAL. All of them knew about hypothermia. They’d had classes and drills and hands on training. He’d spent an hour in the waters off the Kamchatka Peninsula in November before making it back to the submersible and then back to the ship and had just avoided hypothermia. He knew almost as much as Steve about hypothermia. But he was emotionally involved and Steve wasn’t.

  Elle was leaning her head against the headrest, eyes closed.

  God no.

  “Elle!” Bennett deliberately made his voice sharp. He put command in his voice again. Elle’s eyes popped open. “Don’t go to sleep,” he said.

  She blinked, clearly groggy. “No. Wasn’t sleeping. Just resting my eyes.” Her voice slurred.

  “Don’t do that, either. Here.” He punched the in-car music system. Fuck. Bach. That was excellent go-to-sleep music. It calmed him but she didn’t need calming, she needed to stay alert.

  Hypothermia slowed the heart rate. Sleeping slowed it down even more. Hypothermia sometimes tipped you from sleep to death in an instant.

  Not on his watch.

  He found some hip hop music. He didn’t like it and was sure Elle didn’t either, but it was lively and loud. Her eyes fluttered shut and he increased the volume. She opened her eyes, frowned. Annoyed.

  Good. Better annoyed than dead.

  Keep her talking.

  “Where are we going?”

  Under the blanket, her hands opened up. “I don’t know.” Voice a little groggy. He took a corner on two wheels.

  “Think about it, Elle. You’re super smart. Where are we going?”

  Her eyes were closed again. “Elle!” She was startled back awake. “Where are we going, honey? Where have we spent the past two days?”

  Hell, had it only been two days? His entire life had been upended in two days. He was a different man.

  “Sparrow,” she murmured.

  “What? Where did you say?” Bennett made his deep voice loud and obnoxious. That mansplaining tone that annoyed women so. “Sparrow what?”

  She blinked slowly and he hoped she was feeling annoyed. “What?”

  “You said sparrow. Sparrow what?”

  God, they were close. Another two blocks. He’d driven like a reluctant mule going to Canary Wharf. Now he was like a greyhound arrowing toward the finish line.

  “Square.” She mumbled the word, teeth chattering.

  Though the car was overheated, Elle was shivering hard. Good. Shivering was the body trying to create heat in the muscles. When the body stopped shivering, death was close by. She was actually shaking, which was excellent.

  “We’re here, honey. Sparrow Square. Soon we’ll be home.”

  At the word, she tried a smile and his heart turned over in his chest. His brave lady. He was going to find out what had happened back there at Canary Wharf but right now getting Elle’s core temperature up was more important.

  Bennett plunged into the parking garage of Sparrow Square, the transponder in his car window opening the bar. The transponder was registered to a Mr. Alan Light of Edinburgh in case anyone was trying to keep tabs on him. Mr. Light was a hard man to find. Invisible, actually, since he didn’t exist.

  He parked in his spot and was rounding the car before it stopped rocking. He opened the passenger side door and lifted Elle out, blankets and all, cradling her for a moment, just so freaking glad she was alive.

  Another ten seconds underwater and he’d be taking her to the morgue. He shuddered.

  Elle lifted a trembling hand from inside the blanket to caress his cheek. “You — you’re c-c-cold t-too.”

  Something in Bennett’s chest glowed warm. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. “No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Let’s take care of you, now.”

  Bennett carried her up to the apartment. Via his cell, he’d turned the thermostat way up on the way over and it was nice and warm. Too warm for him but great for her. He put her down in the bathroom and touched her forehead, frowning. Ice cold. She was shivering in his arms.

  He put her gently on her feet and held her with one arm while he ran hot water into the tub. Hot, but not too hot, he didn’t want to burn her. But hot enough to bring her core temperature up.

  When the water was ready he helped her shed the damp clothes and get into the tub, watching her anxiously. She wasn’t saying anything. Elle not talking wasn’t natural. Right then, he’d have given his left nut for some snark from her.

  “Honey,” he said, trying to keep the worry from his voice and his face, “I’m going to go get some dry clothes for you. Call me if you need me.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, which he took to be a positive sign, and rushed to the closet, grabbing everything warm of hers he could find.

  His cell buzzed.

  Right outside the door.

  Steve.

  Bennett had an app on his cell that opened the apartment door. Steve walked in with his medic kit and Bennett immediately felt better. Steve was cool and competent and right now Bennett was feeling a little panicky, second guessing him
self about taking Elle to the hospital.

  Steve set up on the couch and Bennett went into the bathroom.

  Elle was right as he’d left her. She hadn’t moved and for a horrible moment he thought she wasn’t breathing either. She was still deathly pale, eyes closed.

  He crouched by the side of the huge bathtub. “Honey.” She didn’t react. Her made his voice louder. “Honey. My colleague is here. He’s a medic and a good one. Let’s get you out of the tub and into warm clothes. While he’s checking you over, I’ll make some tea.”

  A hot bath and hot tea should be enough to get up her core temperature up.

  He hoped.

  “Let’s get you dressed.” Bennett lifted her out of the tub, realizing that he was holding up more of her weight than he should. He rubbed her dry with a bath towel and dressed her from the skin out. Underwear, a yoga top to serve as an under shirt, a sweater, a scarf, wool pants, thick socks. He stepped back, looked at her critically.

  Elle had perfect posture. But not now. Now she slumped a little as if her skeleton couldn’t bear the weight of her muscles. Her face was slack and expressionless.

  Jesus.

  He walked her over to the couch, sat her down, and put a blanket around her shoulders. She didn’t say anything.

  What was worse, she didn’t react to Steve.

  Steve Larssen had won the DNA jackpot. With a Swedish father and an African-American mother, Steve had high Scandinavian cheekbones, light blue eyes and fine features coupled with rich caramel skin. His looks were so striking he couldn’t work undercover. Steve was a chick magnet and everyone on the Teams knew that if they hit a bar and Steve was with them, they instantly became invisible to women. The female gaze gravitated to Steve naturally, as if he were a planet and the guys around him were moons.

  “Steve, this is Dr. Elle Castle. Elle, my friend and colleague Steve Larssen.”

  She barely glanced at him and nodded. “Pleasure.” Her voice was soft, emotionless. Steve crouched in front of her and shot a look at Bennett.

  “I understand you were in the water for about twenty minutes, Dr. Castle.” He took her hand.

  Elle frowned. Had she understood him? Bennett was about to intervene when she said, “Elle.”

  Steve narrowed his gaze. “Excuse me?”

  “Elle. My name is Elle. And I have no idea how long I was in the water. It felt like forever, though.”

  The longest she’d spoken since he’d fished her out of the water. Good.

  Bennett placed a hand on her shoulder. He was so worried, he was acting stupid — and it wasn’t like him. He always kept his cool and could always think straight. Except right now, apparently.

  “I’m going to make you some tea, honey.”

  Steve looked up sharply at the ‘honey’ but Bennett gave him a hard glare back. Don’t give me any grief. Steve held up a hand. No way.

  Bennett nuked some water, plonked a herbal tea bag in it and added about half a bottle of honey. No whiskey. Then a couple of ice cubes so it would be hot but not boiling.

  By the time he got back to the couch, Steve had risen from his crouch. “BP low but within normal range. Pulse 60. Temperature 95. I expect that to rise to 96 soon. Out of the red line zone.”

  Bennett let out a breath. She’d be OK. He put the cup of tea in her hand. “Drink that, sweetheart.” He watched as she took a sip. Grimaced. “Too hot?”

  She looked up at him. “Too sweet.”

  He grinned. The old Elle was coming back.

  “Elle.” Steve took her hand, two fingers going to the inside of her wrist. “Can you say a tongue twister?”

  She scrunched up her pretty face. “Ummm … Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, a peck of pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick. Like that?”

  “Exactly like that.” Steve smiled at her. Elle looked right into his gorgeous face with indifference then glanced over at Bennett. And smiled.

  Oh yeah. This was his woman.

  Bennett spoke without taking his eyes off Elle. “Steve, I want round-the-clock security in the two apartments next door, two per apartment in eight-hour shifts.”

  He turned his head and looked Steve full in the face. It was an insanely expensive solution, particularly for an open-ended situation. Steve, who held a nice chunk of stock in BMC Security, didn’t flinch. “You got it, boss.”

  “And we’ll have to report that Clifford Ricks has been kidnapped.”

  “No.” Elle’s voice was stronger. She sipped from her tea.

  “What?” Bennett and Steve said at the same time.

  Bennett sat down next to her and put his arm around her, pulling her close. She was still confused. “It’s okay, honey. But the police have to know —”

  Elle shook her head. Sat up straighter. A little bit of color had returned to her face. “My father wasn’t kidnapped.”

  Bennett opened his mouth then closed it.

  “I’m not hallucinating, either.” Elle looked at him then at Steve. “It wasn’t my father on the yacht. It was his body double. That’s why I ran. I realized that if I stayed, I’d play right into the hands of the men after him who were on the yacht. I don’t know what’s going to happen to his body double, but my father is still free. Or at least he is not on that yacht.”

  “Okay.” Bennett ran the ramifications of this through his head.

  “But,” she said and a smile crossed her face for the first time since they’d gotten the Skype call. “I think I know how to get us out of this mess.”

  “All ears,” he said.

  “It’s, um, technically illegal.” Elle frowned.

  Bennett felt his chest expand, with heat and light. Elle was safe and by his side. If Elle thought she knew a way out of this situation, he had no doubt that it would work.

  “Illegal? Who the fuck cares?”

  Sparrow Square

  Five days later

  “So here’s a modulated eigenface,” Elle said bafflingly, and four truly weird alien-looking faces showed up as holograms in the space behind her. Because of course Elle didn’t use Power Point and a regular screen. Nope, holograms in space.

  But his IT geeks were lapping it up. Five of his guys sitting around in the safe house’s living room area, taking notes on their laptops. It was Day Two of Elle’s promised five day seminar on her facial recognition cloaking program and his guys — even Melissa Sanders was a guy in his eyes — were transfixed. They were already mastering the basics and Elle said they’d be proficient by tomorrow. The last two days were going to be trial runs in real time.

  Bennett had fought having Elle give the lessons so soon after nearly drowning but in all honesty, even he had to admit she’d made a full recovery. And a bored, idle Elle was something no one should have to see. She was itching to get to work and he knew he’d made the right call.

  She was blossoming and his guys loved her.

  He loved her too, only in a different way.

  He was watching her, understanding a word in ten but also understanding that her program was going to save lives, when he got a quick buzz from his cellphone.

  He went into the room that had been set aside as a gym. He was still the only one to use it. Every morning he accompanied Elle down to the pool for her morning swim. He’d paid a considerable sum to the Sparrow Square management board to close access to the pool for ‘maintenance’ from ten to eleven am.

  He still used the zip ties, though.

  “Cameron,” he said into his cell.

  “The body of Vladimir Lipov was found floating face down in the Moskva River this morning. He had four bullet holes in very painful places and his hands and feet had been cut off.” It was Sergey Leon, a friend in MI6 who was specialized in the Russian Mafiya. It was a booming business, keeping tabs on the Russian mob and its offshoots. Bennett had let him know he had a special interest in the Lipov clan. Without saying a word about Clifford Ricks, he had the impression Sergey understood everything.

  “Charming. The Volcic s
ignature execution. Always a classic.”

  “There you go,” Sergey said. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Plus, we’ve just got reports that someone else who is handless and footless has been fished out downriver. We’re going to have to wait for the Russians to carry out DNA analysis but my money is on that being Lipov’s second in command.”

  “Wouldn’t take that bet,” Cameron said smiling. “Thanks a lot, man.”

  “Sure thing,” Sergey said.

  Bennett couldn’t pay him for the favor, it would be bribery, but he could make a note to get Sergey tickets to Wimbledon or to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall. He’d buy them at the same time he bought tickets to Les Mis. He was officially taking Elle now, maybe next week.

  First, though, he had to overcome his irrational reluctance to go outside with Elle, into the real world. It was an ingrained security concern but it was also something else. This past week had been all about enforced seclusion and domesticity. And Bennett had discovered to his surprise that he liked it.

  He’d spent his entire adult life traveling, away from home. Originally from Wyoming, he’d enrolled in the Navy and then become a SEAL. While a SEAL, he’d been on deployment more often than not and even after founding BMC Security, he was always on the road.

  If you’d asked him, he’d say he didn’t have a domestic bone in his body.

  Wrong. His body was full of them.

  This time in lockdown in the super comfortable safe house with Elle, watching her work, cooking for her, trying to keep up with her, having sex with her, had been mind blowing. He was even running BMC Security from here, no problem.

  Everything he wanted was within these walls.

  Soon though, he’d have to go back out into the world with Elle, walk the streets, let her out of his sight for a moment or two, ease back into normal life. Stop the craziness in his head. Because fuck, when he closed his eyes all he saw was the loop from hell in his head playing back her desperate leap into the Thames and her white, unresponsive face when he fished her out of the water.