by Lasky, Jesse
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stepping out of the shower, Ava toweled off and slipped into a pair of gray khakis tied at the ankle and a white T-shirt, two of the few things she’d brought with her when she left Rebun Island. She picked up the piece of Acala’s flame from the dresser and put it in her pocket.
She’d grown used to carrying it around.
She’d expected to toss and turn, her kiss with Jon front and center in her mind. Instead, she’d fallen into the deepest sleep she’d had since leaving the Valley. Apparently, even her subconscious knew she was home.
She went back to her room and combed out her hair, leaving it to dry in waves around her face. Then she slipped her feet into a pair of white sneakers. She sat there for a minute, drinking in the warmth of the sun slanting across the down comforter on the four-poster bed. She thought about Jon, about what had happened—and almost happened—between them on the porch. She couldn’t leave it that way. Whatever else there was or wasn’t between them, he was her friend.
And they had work to do.
She went out into the hallway and made her way to his room, knocking softly on the door. She crossed her arms nervously over her chest while she waited. A few seconds passed, then a minute.
Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time, wondering if he’d gone down to get breakfast. But that didn’t make sense. It was only seven thirty. They had been up late, and Jon was known for being the anti-morning person. It was one thing to be up early when Takeda was waiting for them in the training room, another to be up early without reason.
She reached for the doorknob, testing it, surprised to find it unlocked. Biting her lip, wondering if she was doing the right thing, she turned it. The door swung open, the room seemingly empty.
Ava stepped inside, wondering if Jon was in the bathroom. “Jon?” she called out softly, heading for the half-open door of the private restroom. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
But she knew he wasn’t there. There was something vacant and vacuous behind the door, the feeling of a room devoid of human presence. She pushed open the door, unsurprised to find it empty.
She was turning to leave the room when she caught sight of a piece of paper on the floor near the writing desk. Crossing the room, she bent to pick it up, realizing it was a background sheet on Frederick Cain, exactly like the one in her file.
Straightening, she looked on the writing desk, wanting to return the paper to the folder.
It was gone.
She looked around the room, wondering if Jon had moved the folder to one of the nightstands or to the dresser. But the room was as clean and empty as it had been when they’d arrived. Even Jon’s bag and clothes were gone.
Ava hurried out of the room and down the stairs, stopping at the front desk, where Cruz was standing with Marie. “Have you seen Jon?”
Cruz started to shake his head but was interrupted by Marie. “Jon… the tall one?”
Ava nodded.
“He left a couple of hours ago, bright and early. Hadn’t even made the coffee.”
“Did he say where he was going?” she asked.
“Not really, but he did ask me how far it is from here to St. Luke’s Hospital.”
“Ava?” Cruz asked. “What’s going on?”
Ava ignored the question. “St. Luke’s? That’s in Windsor. In Sonoma County.”
“That’s right,” Marie said.
Ava turned her attention to Cruz. “Where are Reena and Jane?”
Now there was concern in his eyes. “In the living room.”
She turned to Marie. “Can we borrow your car?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Mayacamas Mountains loomed over them as they made their way toward Sonoma, Cobb Mountain, the tallest in the range, stalking them from behind.
Ava was in the driver’s seat of Marie’s four-door with Reena riding shotgun, Cruz and Jane in the back. As they left Napa behind, the landscape slowly began to change. Upscale boutiques and bistros gave way to blue-collar bars and corner liquor stores. It was uncharted territory, and Ava realized with a twinge of guilt that in all the time she had lived in Napa, she’d never once been to this part of the region.
“So explain to me again why this is a big deal?” Cruz asked.
“He took his folder, Cruz, and all of his belongings. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it has to do with what happened to Courtney. And it doesn’t seem like he plans on coming back.”
“Is that any of our business?”
Reena made a disgusted sound. “He’s one of us, Cruz. We can’t just let him go off half-cocked, getting himself killed. Besides, our missions are entwined. We’re in this together, remember?”
“I guess,” he said. “It just seems to me that if a man wants to take matters into his own hands, it’s his prerogative.”
Nobody said anything, and forty minutes later they pulled into the parking lot at St. Luke’s. As they hurried toward the front of the hospital, Ava’s mind started working the possible obstacles to finding Jon, another of Takeda’s many lessons.
“How are we going to find out where he is?” she asked as they stepped through the automatic doors. “He could be anywhere.”
“Allow me,” Cruz said, strolling up to a nurse behind the main counter.
“What’s he going to do?” Jane asked Reena.
She shrugged, an admiring smile playing on her lips. “The guy was an aspiring politician. This is what he does. He’ll talk, she’ll eat it up.”
“Do you ever worry about what Takeda said?” Jane asked.
“What are you talking about exactly?”
But Ava knew exactly where Jane was headed. She’d thought about it herself with Jon.
“Your feelings for Cruz,” Jane continued. “Takeda said emotions get in the way. Make you weak. Make you vulnerable.”
Ava caught a flash of fear in Reena’s eyes in the moment before her expression turned impassive. “Takeda may know a lot of things, but he doesn’t know Cruz. He’s indestructible.”
“Okay guys,” Cruz said, returning from the front desk. “Jon’s registered as a visitor. ICU Room 402.”
Ava was baffled. “ICU?”
Cruz nodded. “Come on. It’s upstairs.”
They headed for the elevator and made their way to the fourth floor. They were on their way past the nurse’s station when they were stopped by a Nurse Ratched look-alike. At first, Ava worried they wouldn’t be able to get past her, but then Cruz pulled her aside, speaking to her in low tones, and a minute later, they were allowed past.
“What did you say to her?” Jane asked.
Cruz just smirked.
Room 402 was at the end of the hall. They stopped at the wall of glass fronting the room and peered inside. A large window flooded the room with light, providing a view of the slow-moving waters of Putah Creek just beyond Route 175.
Ava scanned the room, stopping at a still figure standing next to the bed.
Jon.
An EKG machine stood next to the bed, green peaks and valleys displayed across its screen. Ava’s gaze slid to the person in the bed, a shrunken woman with a large bandage around her forehead and skin so pale it was almost translucent. It took Ava only a minute to understand.
She stepped into the room, making her way quietly to where Jon stood.
“Courtney,” Ava said softly. “She never died.”
“Her parents refuse to face reality,” Jon said, reaching toward the lifeless body of the woman in the bed. He stroked her light brown hair. “But I know she’s gone.”
His voice was tender, his eyes glazed as he looked at her. Before Ava could check the emotion, she was awash in sorrow, not only for Jon’s sadness, and Courtney’s obviously devastating injury, but for the lost possibility between her and Jon. He would be a prisoner to his grief forever.
She was immediately racked by guilt. She wouldn’t wish this kind of loss on anyone, not even her enemies on whom she sought veng
eance. And she and Jon needed to focus on their mission anyway. Courtney was a necessary reminder of that.
“I’m sorry, Jon,” Ava said softly.
Reena, Cruz, and Jane eased into the doorway behind her.
“I’m sorry, man,” Cruz said, touching Jon’s back. “Will she ever wake up?”
“The bullets, when they pierced her skull…” Jon sighed in anguish. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m going to make the people responsible get what they deserve.”
He bent to kiss Courtney’s face, then grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Ava put her hand on his arm. “Where are you going?”
Jon just looked at her. “You don’t get it, Ava. I did this to her.”
Ava shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
Jon stared into her eyes. “I was working for Cain. That’s why he went after Courtney. So if you’re looking for revenge against Cain and his men, maybe you should think about coming after me, too.”
He walked out of the room, leaving the rest of them standing in stunned silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jane heard Ava and Jon talking, saw Reena and Cruz watching. But everything faded into the background as she focused on Courtney, lying in the hospital bed.
Something was picking at the back of her mind. A nagging certainty that she could almost grasp. A kind of déjà vu that was part recollection, part daydream.
Then, all at once, she wasn’t in the hospital room anymore. She was somewhere else completely, lost to the present, prisoner to her forgotten past.
Jane is seventeen, lying in a hospital bed surrounded by stark white walls. Her eyes flicker—back and forth, open and shut.
She’s scared.
Jane can sense that she’s hooked up to the beeping machines at her side, a net of electrodes smothering the parts of her face that haven’t been badly bruised, critically battered. The stitches on Jane’s cheek continually itch and burn, but she doesn’t make a sound as she floats in and out of consciousness.
Someone approaches her bed, coming to a stop next to her. She feels a pair of eyes on her face, but when she tries to see who it is, she only gets a blurry vision that could be a man or a woman. Whoever it is sobs softly, apologizing over and over.
Apologizing for having done this to her, for having put her here.
Jane tries her best to stay awake, but one question pounds at her brain, more painful than the fractures and lacerations covering her body.
How is she still alive?
The mystery person leans over, pressing gentle lips to her forehead. Jane’s eyes flicker open, the figure, turning and leaving the room, still blurry.
Jane came to consciousness with a jolt of cold, ice raining down on her as Cruz held a plastic container in his hands.
Reena’s face loomed over her. “Jane? It’s all right, Jane. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Jane’s breath came fast and heavy, the memory still fresh in her mind. She clutched at Reena’s arms, trying to hold on to the details. Was the person weeping responsible for her condition? Was that person behind the wheel of the car she saw in her dream?
“What happened?” she finally asked.
Reena shook her head. “I don’t know. One minute you were standing there, fine, and the next you were screaming and shouting, falling to the floor.”
Cruz studied her face. “Did you remember something?”
Jane thought about the vision. Was it all coming back to her? Had Courtney’s hospital room triggered a memory of her own?
“I… I don’t know. I’m so sorry. ” She got to her feet, looking around the room. “Wait a minute… Where’s Jon? Where’s Ava?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Frederick cain lifted the glass of twenty-one-year-old Lagavulin, polishing it off in a single gulp. He found it ironic that in Latin, whisky translated to “water of life.”
Especially given his occupation as a killer for hire.
Not that he lost any sleep over the trail of death in his wake. Everybody had to make a living somehow.
He took a deep breath, leaning over the old mahogany bar inside Tavern Red. It was a hole in the wall, closed to the public until five o’clock and under the radar of everyone but hard-core locals and the very few people who knew where to find Cain. It worked well as a front for his operation. In fact, business was booming.
A few of his men finished pints of beer in a booth at the back while two others, Vic and Lee, played pool in the corner. Vic leaned down, aiming for the corner pocket. The ball missed by a hair.
“I think I’m going to be twenty dollars richer by the end of this game,” Lee said, stroking his beard as he surveyed the table, lining up his next shot.
Another day, another dollar.
Cain tapped the bar. The young bartender, slicing limes with a wicked blade, put down his knife and gave Cain another generous pour of Lagavulin. He was returning the bottle to its place behind the bar when the sound of a phone ringing cut through the silence.
Everyone paused, all eyes on Cain. At Tavern Red, a ringing phone in the middle of the afternoon could only mean two things: a job gone wrong or a job coming in.
Cain swallowed the liquor in his glass and removed his phone from the pocket of his perfectly tailored Italian suit.
“Hello?”
“I expect to see you on Saturday. You do know that, don’t you?”
Cain wasn’t surprised to hear William Reinhardt’s voice on the other end of the line.
“I told you,” Cain said coldly, “it’s not my scene.”
“Irrelevant,” Reinhardt retorted. “You’re not invited to dazzle me with your witty repartee.”
Cain was unmoved. “Tell your buddy the senator that if he wants to talk to me, he has my number. And for him, I’ll consider picking up.”
“You know Wells doesn’t like to discuss business over the phone. Or through email.”
“So the guy’s paranoid. The way he got into office, I don’t blame him.”
Reinhardt’s voice was muffled as he said something to someone on the other end of the phone. When he came back, he lowered his voice. “Wells wants to meet in person. He has located him.”
Cain laughed with satisfaction.
“The party is the perfect cover,” Reinhardt says smoothly. “You’ll be just two guests of many, and if you come at ten, everyone will be too drunk off vintage port to remember who was conversing with whom.”
Cain thought about it. He and Reinhardt had known each other a long time, their relationship mutually beneficial far beyond their imaginations. Their history could either catapult them to further success—or consign them to prison. Cain might not be sitting in a tony vineyard in Napa, but he was smart enough to know that it was better to pacify than to alienate a person like Reinhardt.
“Tomorrow at ten, huh?” he asked.
“I’ll see you then.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ava sits, devouring a warm meal at St. Ella’s Women’s Shelter of Carson City, Nevada, about two hundred miles northeast of Napa Valley. The shelter’s low-hanging ceiling and dreary walls reflect the feelings of the women huddled in the tight space. Trapped and full of despair, this is the end of the line.
Ava, her beauty hidden behind tired eyes, is in a constant state of confused anxiety. She’s been on the streets for almost a year, having sold most of her mother’s and grandmother’s jewelry and clothes to survive, a piece of her heart breaking off each and every time.
But she was only able to get her hands on so much, and it’s all gone now anyway.
Ava tries to make the corn bread and thin soup served by the shelter last. She doesn’t want them to ask her to leave. As she takes a scoop of food, she notices a loose thread from her ripped, fingerless glove and attempts to tear it off, but instead of a clean break, the donation bin glove begins to unravel. The sight of it causes an irrational tear to spill onto Ava’s cheek. She takes a deep
breath, trying to get it together.
She just can’t seem to catch a break.
Just then, a man sits down at her table. He’s rugged, good-looking, and the only person in the run-down building who seems in control. It’s obvious he doesn’t belong there, but then again, neither does Ava, something he lets her know when he speaks a moment later.
“This isn’t the life you’re supposed to have.” He leans in close to her. “And I know how to help you get it all back.”
Ava drove like a bat out of hell, hoping she was right. Once she’d recovered from the shock of Jon’s confession, she’d hurried to the car, flipping frantically through her file, looking for anything that might tell her where Jon might go in search of Cain. She’d found it in a report on Cain’s business holdings: a down-and-out bar called Tavern Red on the wrong side of town, reportedly Cain’s informal headquarters.
She could only assume that’s where Jon was headed. If he wasn’t there, she would have to resign herself to the fact that he might be lost to her and the others.
She pulled up outside the bar, spotting Jon right away. He was standing outside, surveying the mission-style building under a sun that was baking the already-hard ground. Ava had seen a gas station a mile back, and more recently, an abandoned warehouse. Other than that, they were in the middle of nowhere, nothing but stray cats roaming and trash tumbling across the dusty ground.
He was heading inside, his stride purposeful, when she leapt from the car, running toward him with all the speed she could muster.
“Jon!” she called out. “Stop!”
He kept walking, seemingly oblivious to her voice.
She grabbed on to his arm, trying to pull him to a stop. But it was like trying to hold on to a Mack truck in high gear. All of Takeda’s training couldn’t make up for the fact that Jon outweighed her by a good hundred pounds, an advantage that was only magnified by his determination.
He tried to shake her off. “Let go of me, Ava.”
