by Mari Carr
Alicia lashed out, stabbing something into Sylvia’s thigh.
She yelped in pain—first from the needle, then from the burn as Alicia depressed the plunger.
Sylvia grabbed the woman’s wrist, yanking her arm away, pulling the needle out of her leg as she did. “What was that?!”
“Vitamin K. You’ll be asleep in a few minutes, dear.”
“Alicia—why would you do this?”
“I’m protecting you. I’m protecting both of us.”
Her thigh was burning and she was starting to feel light-headed. Sylvia turned toward the door, seriously considering throwing herself out, but they were going highway speeds, and if she hit her head and passed out, another car might come along and run her over.
Using her body as cover, she twisted her wrist and tapped on her watch, bringing up a series of emojis. Just before she slumped back, she hit the small arrow symbol.
Chapter Fourteen
Sylvia was gone.
Alicia was gone.
It was eight a.m. and Lancelot had no fucking idea where they were. He closed the trunk to Sylvia’s car after conducting a second search of the vehicle, his shirt damp and clinging to him.
They’d searched nearly every inch of the resort and questioned countless employees and guests. Given that they’d been at least an hour behind her, and it took them half an hour to realize Sylvia’s car was there but she wasn’t, it had been the middle of the night at that point. All parts of the resort except the valet and front desk had been closed, so there’d been no one to question until employees started returning at six a.m. That questioning had been pointless—everyone they talked to either hadn’t been on site the previous night, didn’t see anything, or had been paid very handsomely not to talk.
Hugo’s arms were crossed as he leaned against the trunk of Sylvia’s car, looking just as sweaty and discouraged as Lancelot. “She’s gone. Sylvia’s gone, and this monster has her.”
Or killed her and dumped her body in the ocean.
Lancelot shoved that thought away. He had to operate on the assumption that Sylvia was still alive and with Alicia.
Lancelot had been determined to find some crumb that would give a lead, something to work with. They were out of threads to pull. “Fook. We’re going to have to call Lorelei, tell her we’ve lost Sylvia and Alicia. Maybe she’s found—”
Before he could finish his statement, a tricked-out Ford F150 squealed tires around the circular drive leading to the front entrance of the resort, slamming on the brakes, and skidding to a stop right behind Sylvia’s car.
Lancelot started to reach for the gun he’d tucked in his back waistband, but stopped just before grabbing the grip when Sylvia’s brother, Oscar, leapt out of the truck and crossed in front of the hood.
He just kept coming.
Lancelot read Oscar’s intentions in his body language a second too late to call out a warning to Hugo.
Too late for Hugo to dodge as Oscar swung hard, punching Hugo in the jaw.
The blow sent Hugo staggering sideways, the trunk of the car at his back the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground.
Oscar whirled on him, but Lancelot was ready, his fists up. He wasn’t taking a sucker punch.
“Give me a reason,” Lancelot said through gritted teeth. He sure as hell felt like hitting someone. Fear—no, terror—over what Alicia had done to Sylvia was starting to take over. He hated feeling so helpless.
Lancelot’s tone slowed her mammoth brother down, but only just barely. “Where the fuck is my sister?!”
Lancelot lowered his fists. “How did you know she was here?” He was sick and fucking tired of this guy asking a bunch of questions while never giving one damn answer. He needed that answer. Needed a thread. “Did she call you?”
The dark look on Oscar’s face told Lancelot he was sorry he hadn’t swung that initial sucker punch at him instead.
Hugo pushed himself upright and swiped blood off his split lip. “She’s not here.”
“What did you do with her?” Oscar asked him.
“Nothing,” Hugo replied. “We came here to find her, too.”
“What are you doing here?” Lancelot needed to get his answer.
“Sylvia sent an SOS.”
“A what?” Hugo asked.
Alive. She was alive. Lancelot made sure none of his feelings showed on his face. He’d lost it once, yelling his fears out over the phone when he realized she’d gone to see Alicia. Not that she’d heard a word of it.
“Her watch. It’s a special design. At three o’clock this morning, she used it. Said she was in danger. I was able to track you—er, her—here.”
Lancelot caught the slip of the tongue. “You’ve got a tracker on us?”
Oscar showed no remorse. “Yeah. Don’t trust your intentions with my sister. Turns out, I was right.”
“Sketchbook,” Hugo muttered. “We should have placed a tracker on her sketchbook.”
“Can’t you track her watch as well?” Lancelot asked.
“Design flaw. One that will be addressed in the very near future. The GPS only works when connected to Wi-Fi. She sent her distress signal as a text message. Which means she must be on the road or somewhere without Wi-Fi.”
Lancelot turned back to her vehicle. So much for that thread.
“Why do you have a gun?” Oscar asked.
Lancelot had been reaching for it when Oscar raced into the parking lot. His shirt had gotten stuck on the grip, revealing it. Untucking his shirt, he covered the weapon once more. The last thing he needed was for some hotel guest or employee to spot him and call the cops.
“Sylvia is in danger.”
“No shit! I just told you that. But if you’re not the danger, then who is?”
“Alicia Rutherford,” Hugo replied.
Oscar frowned. “Her English teacher? Bullshit. Sylvia loves her. She and Mrs. Rutherford are tight. That woman wouldn’t hurt my sister.”
“She’s not who you think she is,” Hugo added.
Lancelot cleared his throat. Hugo was talking too much, giving Oscar too much information.
Oscar’s fists clenched once more. “Then why don’t you tell me who the hell she really is?”
“We don’t have time,” Lancelot countered. “What we need is a plan. We questioned the resort staff we could find. We might get more answers if we wait for the night staff to come back, but we can’t wait that long. We need to start searching for her now.”
“Mrs. Rutherford kidnapped my sister?” Oscar asked.
“Yes,” Hugo said.
Lancelot wasn’t so sure. He reached into the back seat of Sylvia’s car and pulled out the atlas he’d found there earlier. If he weren’t on the verge of losing it completely, he would have been amused by the fact she still carried a printed book of maps in her car, considering her phone had GPS.
He flipped to the map of Florida and tried to think reasonably.
Given how important Alicia was to Sylvia, it was more than likely Alicia had somehow convinced Sylvia to leave with her. That meant he couldn’t rule out any of the modes of transportation that would be off-limits if this were a true kidnapping.
They had at least a six-hour head start. There were several major airports within a two-hour drive, so air travel was a real possibility. Still, Lancelot dismissed it. Alicia wouldn’t leave an easy trail, and Sylvia wouldn’t have any sort of false ID, so she would have been forced to buy a ticket and travel under her own name.
Unless Alicia had planned for that, and had false identification waiting for her. Possible, but still unlikely as far as Lancelot was concerned. Airports had too many cameras.
He stared at the map. That meant they were traveling by car, or, given the fact that they were a stone’s throw from the beach, by boat.
“Where would you go?” Lancelot asked, staring down at the map. He didn’t know enough to make even an educated guess. But there was someone here who might. “How familiar are you with this state?”
Lancelot asked Oscar.
Oscar was frowning at him. “You really are looking for her.”
“Of course,” Hugo said.
Oscar’s eye twitched. “It’s you two in the sketch, isn’t it?”
Hugo ran a hand through his hair. He looked rumpled and weary and completely resigned to taking yet another punch from her brother. “Oui.”
Oscar rubbed his forehead. “Fuck. I knew her SOS came from Florida. Then I looked and saw your car was here, and assumed she was with you, so I didn’t look at anything else.” He walked back to his truck and pulled out a state-of-the-art laptop.
Returning to Sylvia’s car, he placed it on the trunk and flipped the lid open. Glancing at Hugo, whose lip was still bleeding and swelling up nicely, he muttered a low, “Sorry.”
Hugo nodded at the halfhearted apology. With Sylvia’s life in danger, something like a fat lip was minimal.
“There’s no GPS on the watch because the SOS system uses cell phone tech, not satellite.” He tapped a few buttons, his fingers seeming much slower on the keyboard than a tech genius’ would be.
“But cell phones use towers. Her text message pinged through this tower.” He pointed at his screen, then grabbed the map book. He scanned it, then flipped a few pages so they weren’t looking at the whole state, but a more detailed map of one particular section. “Here.” Oscar stabbed at the spot on the page. “This is where she was when she sent her SOS.”
Lancelot could have kissed the man.
“Whose car?” Lancelot asked.
Oscar flipped him the keys to his truck. “Mine. I’ve got all my stuff in there. I’ll hack into the cell company that owns those towers along that route while you drive us to the location of that ping.”
Hugo gave Lancelot an alarmed look, but Lancelot ignored it. He was too fucking impressed. He grabbed their bags from their rental car and transferred them to Oscar’s truck.
Oscar climbed into the back seat, still typing away on his laptop.
“She sent that message to her brother five hours ago.” Hugo was going to the same dark place as Lancelot, starting to think the worst.
“We’re going to find her, Hugo.”
And God willing, she’d be alive when they did.
* * *
SYLVIA WOKE UP IN STAGES. By the time she managed to get her body and brain online at the same time, she was aware enough to realize how sick she felt. Scrambling for the door, she rolled the window down and stuck her head out, retching.
“Take deep breaths, dear. The salt air will help.”
After several moments of painful heaving, Sylvia wiped her mouth with the back of her shaking hand. They were still near the ocean, she could smell the salt, but all she could see were sand dunes.
She pulled her head in. They weren’t on the highway anymore. That meant she’d probably survive if she threw herself out of the moving car.
All she needed was to get her arms and legs to obey her enough to make it happen.
Sylvia slumped back in the seat, tears of embarrassment that she was such a fool stinging her eyes. “Where are we?”
“We’re almost there,” Alicia soothed. “While you were sleeping, I made a couple of stops, set up arrangements for our trip. Everything should be in place now.”
Great. Two opportunities for escape missed. Just when she thought she couldn’t feel any worse.
“Why?” Sylvia asked.
“Don’t you mean where?”
“I mean why.” There was a bite to her words now. She fought to control it. Pissing off her kidnapper probably wasn’t smart. She cleared her throat. “Why are you…” crazy. That wasn’t a fair question. Genetic or environmental, the reasons for her mentor going bat-shit bonkers didn’t matter. Sylvia cleared her throat, eyes still closed, and decided to try another approach.
“Why did you decide to fight these people? They’re powerful and connected. It’s dangerous.”
“Injustice isn’t worth fighting?” Alicia asked in that leading teacher tone.
“Of course it is, but there are a thousand injustices. Why this one? Why this cause?”
“Ah, that is an interesting question. You know my relationship with men. You know how I feel about power and authority.”
“Yes,” Sylvia said softly. “I thought what you and your husband had was beautiful.”
“And it was. Did I ever tell you ours was an open marriage?”
“Meaning you had lovers.”
“We both did. He, of course, had to obtain my approval, but it worked for us. Sometimes I needed a challenge.”
“A sexual challenge?” Sylvia asked, not sure if it was residual fogginess from the drugs or the insanity of this situation and conversation that made it hard to follow.
“Strangely, no. An emotional one. And I found it. Found him.”
The way she said “him,” with an almost religious fervor, made Sylvia’s heart sink. “Did you join a cult?” The words were out before she thought better of them.
Alicia laughed heartily. “No, not at all. I met a man who was my equal. One who would not kneel for me. One who made me want to kneel for him.” She hummed, a considering, introspective sound. “I thought I understood how people worked. Well enough to control them. He showed me there was so much I still had to learn.”
“Control people…you mean people like me.”
“Oh no, dear. Not you. You’re better than that. Your mind is a treasure, and that’s why I tried to teach you more than the power of words. I also wanted to instill the knowledge of how to see the world. I only wish that I could go back to when you were young, teach you again, with the new knowledge I have since I’ve met him.”
Again with the “him.”
“Who?” she demanded. “Who is this guy?”
“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to meet him.”
“Alicia, please, let’s just…go get a cup of coffee and talk about this. Surely you see how,” crazy, “fanciful this all seems. Secret societies, and now this man whose name you won’t even use.”
“Ah, you haven’t yet made the connection.” Alicia turned left, toward the water.
They emerged from between the sand dunes onto a long stretch of deserted beach. The morning sun sparkled on the water, and she blinked to close her eyes. They were driving on the sand and had slowed down enough that she could probably jump out now. The problem would be where she would go from there.
She needed to send another SOS signal. Her phone was long gone, so the beta version of a new smart watch her brother had given her was her only hope of signaling for help. Would it work without her phone? She wished she could remember. Placing her right hand over her left wrist, she curled her thumb into the space under her palm and tapped on the watch, working from memory and praying this was doing something.
That was her only hope of outside rescue, but without any idea if it was working, she needed a plan to get herself out of this mess.
The rolling sand dunes that forced a barrier between the road and beach weren’t just piles of sand, but covered in plants—beach morning glory and railroad vine. That meant the dune was probably stable enough for her to scale it fairly quickly. She wouldn’t sink in the way she would have if it was just sand. She’d put a dune between herself and Alicia, and then either try to make her way to find help, or hide and hope Alicia gave up on finding her. She couldn’t see anything manmade from here, but she had a hard time believing that if she followed the water, she wouldn’t come to something—a private home, public beach, something, someone who could help her. Or at least loan her a phone.
“The connection,” Sylvia prompted, wanting to keep the other woman talking. “What connection?”
“He’s the one who knows about the Masters’ Admiralty because he’s one of them.”
Sylvia stopped thinking about her escape plan, all her attention now on Alicia. “What?”
“He’s one of them. He sees what they’re doing and wants to dismantle the organization. He is both our
leader and our double agent.”
“Why doesn’t he just…go to the press? Write a book?” Sylvia demanded.
“They control all media.”
“No one controls all media.”
“Naive,” Alicia scolded. “I thought better of you.”
“I’m naive? You found a man who you wanted to sexually submit to, and because of that, bought into some insane story about a secret society that rules the world? That’s naive. Worse, it’s stupid.” Her plan to not confront, and maybe enrage, the crazy woman was out the window. Sylvia wanted to reach over and slap some sense into her teacher.
Alicia sucked in air, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
Her anger somewhat abated, having been expressed, Sylvia fervently wished she could take the words back. She wasn’t really ready to jump out of a moving car, but if Alicia reached for another syringe, she was going to have to.
Alicia’s fingers relaxed. “You don’t understand, and that’s fine. I laughed in his face the first time. Then he showed me evidence, names and records going back a thousand years. All the powerful people and families who didn’t earn that power, but were chosen to receive it. He will not just expose them, but break them. He is Leon and Francisco and Bhagat.”
“Oh, Alicia,” Sylvia said sadly. “What happened to you?”
“Do not pity me,” she snarled. It was the first time the other woman hadn’t seemed cool, calm, and collected.
“You need help,” Sylvia said quietly. They were approaching a curve in the coastline. She’d jump as soon as they passed that point, then run back the way they’d come, and up the dunes. Hopefully it would take Alicia some time to stop the car and turn around, during which, Sylvia would be out of sight.
Twenty yards.
She flexed her toes in her shoes—stylish white canvas sneakers that weren’t exactly meant for running. She was desperately glad she’d worn these rather than the cute sandals that would have looked better with these pants.
Ten yards.
She had to be sure to jump far enough out that her legs didn’t get run over by the back tire. Given the way every muscle in her body was twitching, thanks to adrenaline, she didn’t think that would be a problem.
