by Hope Franke
Callum grimaced. “I thought so, too.”
Obviously Sati’s reach extended beyond the prison walls. That meant she’d never be safe. Callum was right. They’d follow her to Germany and she’d bring danger to her family.
CALLUM HIT THE ACCELERATOR. When the opposing lane was free, he crossed it and slammed on the brakes. The van was too big to match his maneuver in time and ended up alongside a car.
Callum cranked the steering wheel, slamming the car into the side of the van. The side windows shattered, spraying glass. Gabriele screamed.
Callum turned the steering wheel sharply to right the car.
The van sped up as if it were now trying to outrun Callum rather than decommission him.
Paula’s voice crackled from the speaker phone. “Status?”
“We’re on A1261 heading into the roundabout at Leamouth,” he shouted. “Suspect is aggressive.”
It was Callum’s mandate to run the van off the road to avoid an explosion in a populated area, but now Callum was confused as to what the bombers intention was. Were they rushing ahead to complete their operation at a peak time? If so, did they still care if Gabriele was in the airport? Or had their instructions changed? What was their priority? Killing Gabriele or making a bigger statement by killing hundreds or thousands at LCY?
The van didn’t slow down as it approached the circle. Attempting to keep up, Callum pressed down on the accelerator, inertia practically pulling the car up on two wheels. Gabriele whimpered, and Callum cursed himself for not being able to spare her this. He had to force the van off the road before it reached the airport at any cost.
Even if it meant his life. And hers.
At least they were out of the heavily populated area of the city, and the motorists on the motorway had the good sense to pull over and get out of the way of the speedsters.
There was a tree-lined stretch just before the next roundabout. If he could just force them off the road there.
He shifted into high gear and pulled up beside the van once again. This time the driver twisted in his seat to point a gun out the window.
Callum shouted, “Get down!” just as the shot was fired. The bullet pierced the window. Gabriele shrieked and wrapped her arms over her head.
They approached a construction zone. Callum pressed on his horn repeatedly to warn the crew to jump out of the way of the van bearing down on them. Orange road markers blew clumsily across the road, and Callum swerved to miss the bigger barrels.
Something that looked like construction wire caught in the back wheel of the van. Callum had the advantage he was looking for. The van slowed, and Callum knocked the car into the ailing wheel. The tire flattened causing the van to circle violently, clipping the side of the car and sending them both into the ditch.
The sudden expansion of the airbag smacked Callum in the face. Dark circles muddied his vision until he blacked out.
GABRIELE’S BREATH was tight in her throat. Through the broken glass of her window, she could see the van pressed up against the back of their car. The driver and passenger of the van were slumped forward unconscious, possibly dead.
Callum groaned. Gabriele nudged his shoulder. “Callum? Are you all right?”
He blinked. “I think so.” He looked at her carefully. “Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Callum’s hand searched the seat. “Where’s my phone?”
Gabriele spotted it on the floor. “Here.”
Their fingers brushed as he took it from her. His bronze eyes bore into her with something like remorse. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Callum wrenched the banged-up door open and slid out of the car. His phone was to his ear and Gabriele could hear him reporting back. Mission accomplished. Suspects are injured, possibly fatally. She heard sirens in the distance.
Gabriele watched through the shattered back window as Callum cautiously approached the van. The driver’s head suddenly popped up, and he shook it as if to clear his vision. Then his eyes locked on Callum. Callum turned and dashed for the car, but the driver was fast. Callum’s hand slipped under the seat. The van driver grabbed Callum’s shoulder, pulling him away from the car and right hooked him in the face.
“Callum!”
Callum fell to the ground, pushing back on his heels. Blood gushed from his nose. The driver kicked him in the side and Callum yelled out. He pulled a gun out of his pocket and aimed it.
Oh, dear God, he’s going to kill him.
Gabriele reached under the driver’s seat. Where is it? Where is it? Callum had been after his gun, she was sure of it.
Her fingers grasped the cool handle of the weapon and pulled it free. Then she didn’t something she’d never dreamed she’d do in a million years. She aimed through the open door and pulled the trigger.
THE GUN KICKED BACK, wrenching her wrist. She cried out and tossed the weapon. Her breath came in short, loud spurts. Her heart thundered wildly. Her eyes searched beyond the open door to the street for Callum. She couldn’t see him. The man she shot had fallen on top of him.
“Callum!” Gabriele’s fingers felt like thick sausages as she worked feverishly to undo her seatbelt. It clicked open, and she scrambled to get out of the vehicle, crawling over the stick shift and out the driver’s door. The broken glass bit her palms, but at that moment she didn’t notice the pain. She needed to get to Callum.
The fallen man groaned, gripping his leg. Blood soaked through the denim. He was out of Callum’s reach, but his gun lay on the ground nearby. Gabriele scurried along the rough surface of asphalt and pushed the man’s gun far out of reach, then hurried to Callum’s side.
Blood soaked Callum’s right shoulder and her heart plummeted. “Callum!”
She pressed two fingers against his neck, grateful to find a pulse. It was slight but present. She ripped off her cardigan and pressed it against the blood flow from Callum’s shoulder. He moaned.
“Callum.” He was losing blood. He had to get to a hospital. Where was the ambulance? Weren’t the sirens she’d heard earlier for them? She needed to find his phone, call the grid, but she didn’t know where it was. She hated the thought of leaving his side. She stroked his head and a lump formed in her throat. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to find your phone.”
He licked dry lips. “They’ll find us.”
Gabriele glanced at the man she’d shot. He writhed on the ground, and she felt bad that she hadn’t tried to help him. She didn’t have any nursing training, only basic first aid, but something told her he was too dangerous to approach, even in his injured state.
She glanced back at the van and her pulse jumped. The passenger seat was empty. She thought the guy had died, but obviously he’d come to. Her heart hammered. They were in grave danger. She scrambled back toward the car, looking for the gun she’d dropped. It lay on the ground under the vehicle. She must’ve kicked it when she let it go. She bent low, reaching. Her fingers just brushed the edge of the metal when she heard the gravel crunch beside her. Her heart pattered as she clawed for the gun. Sharp pain ripped along her ribs and she cried out. In a flash strong arms pulled her out from under the vehicle, and the skin of her arms burned as it scraped along the rough, glass-ridden surface. She yelled, “No!”
Pain exploded in her head and her world blackened.
GABRIELE FIRST BECAME aware of the pounding in her head—she’d never had a headache so fierce before—then the musky smell of cool dampness. The rusty taste of blood in her mouth and the cramping in her lower back were next. Her eyes flickered open to a dim swirl of light. She squinted at the source, a small window high above her. She tried to move her arms, but they were trapped behind her back. She noted that she was sitting on a wobbly, wooden chair. Her hands prickled from lack of circulation as she tried to move them.
A whoosh of blood flooded her as her memory returned.
“Callum?” she muttered. Her throat was dry, her mouth thick with a puffy tongue.
She’d die for a drink of water right now.
Probably a bad choice of words.
“Callum?” she repeated, fighting the panic. She couldn’t see him. Was she alone in this dark room?
“Gabi.”
His voice was low and muffled, but it meant he was alive and with her. It came from directly behind her. She twisted her head and yelped at the pain that seared through her scalp.
“Are you okay?” Callum asked.
“My head is killing me.” Her eyes had adjusted and she could see the duct tape wrapped around her chest and around her ankles. “And I’m tied up.”
“Me, too.”
Gabriele felt Callum’s fingers wiggle against hers. Their situation crystalized. They were tied together with the same tape, back to back in some kind of cellar. She’d fallen into a badly written noir movie.
She remembered shooting one of their pursuers to save Callum. She remembered the blood. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s been better. They had the decency at least to bandage it up.”
“They must mean to let us live then.”
“For now.”
Gabriele shivered at his words. “Why do you think we’re still alive?” She remembered one of the men standing over Callum, ready to shoot.
“Leverage, I imagine. They want something. They think they can bargain with our lives to get it.”
“Can they?”
A pause, then, “No. The British government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
He was being brutally honest, and Gabriele appreciated that. She swallowed thickly. There had to be a way for them to escape. She shuffled in her chair and pulled on the tape. Callum groaned.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine. Just my shoulder.”
She pushed down her growing anxiety. “What are we going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. Just wait.”
Just wait? For what? For the terrorists to come back and kill them?
“I’m so sorry.” Callum’s voice was hoarse and labored. He’d lost a lot of blood, and Gabriele worried he might pass out.
“It’s okay. Just rest.”
“It’s not okay.” His voice cracked. “You shouldn’t be here with me. It was my job to protect you and I failed.”
“You tried, Callum. You did everything in your power to get rid of me. It’s not your fault I’m so stubborn.”
She heard him snort. “That you are.”
“Hey. You don’t have to agree with me.”
“Okay, fine. You’re a pushover.”
She filled her lungs with damp, moldy air. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know.”
Callum’s fingers brushed against hers again, and she wiggled hers back. She needed to touch him, to feel his skin on hers even if it was just their fingertips.
“I’m not afraid of death,” she said. “I’m not crazy about pain or the thought of going through the act of dying, but I’m not afraid of what comes next.”
“That’s good.”
“Are you?”
“I try not to think about it. If there’s something on the other side, I’ll find out about it when I get there.”
“I believe there is something on the other side. Heaven. My grandparents are there. And Lennon. I’m just sad for the pain that my… dying here… will cause my family. I wish I could see them one more time.”
Callum shifted and Gabriele felt his hand grasp her fingers. She twisted her wrists until her hand could reach to clasp it back. They sat quietly in the growing darkness, holding hands behind their backs. She tilted her head, leaning it against the back of Callum’s head. It was the most awkward yet intense kind of intimacy.
“Can you believe we’ve only known each other for one week?” she whispered.
“No.”
“I feel like I’ve known you… for at least two,” she joked.
“I wish I’d known you for much, much longer.”
Gabriele was sure he was growing delirious. The funny thing was, she felt the same way. She didn’t have any regrets with how she’d lived her life, but she did regret that she wouldn’t have the chance to really get to know Callum Leatherby.
Suddenly, she desperately needed to know more about him. Something, anything before she died.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“What?” Callum responded with surprise.
“Please, just something. Talk to me.”
A pause, then, “I’m allergic to plums.”
“Plums? Any other fruits?”
“Nope, just plums.”
“That’s so random. I don’t think I’m allergic to anything.”
The room was like a mausoleum. The low ceiling and nearby walls lined with empty shelves deadened the sound. All Gabriele could hear was the beat of her own heart and Callum’s raspy breathing behind her. She was afraid if he passed out, he might never wake up. She had to keep him talking.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Gabi, seriously?”
“Humor me. We might die here. What can it hurt?”
She heard him take in a long, slow breath. “Yes. Briefly. When I was thirteen. Does that count? It might’ve been infatuation, but damn, she had the cutest black pigtails and a fashionable bright pink Spice Girls rucksack.”
“I’m serious.”
“No, I haven’t. That was Mick’s department. He was romantic enough for the both of us.”
Gabriele felt both relieved and disappointed. For some reason she was glad Callum didn’t have ghosts of girlfriends past for her to compete with but on the other hand, it showed that Callum wasn’t interested in falling in love.
The question was, was she?
Gabriele ran her tongue along dry lips. She missed Lennon. But she also missed being in love: the blissful euphoria that came with discovering all there was to know about a person you admired and desired, the hope of experiencing life and witnessing life with someone you loved and who loved you in return, growing old together.
Was she in love with Callum? What were these confusing emotions that bit at her heart?
Not that it mattered. Chances were good they’d both be dead by morning.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Callum said softly.
She exhaled a small scoff. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
He qualified, “Tell me something Mick didn’t know about you.”
Gabriele sucked in a breath. Callum wanted something she hadn’t given to Lennon. Why?
She’d shared a lot with Lennon, but not everything. Maybe she would’ve over time, but they’d run out of that.
“When I was fifteen, I dated a man who was twenty-five. I told my parents that he was twenty and they still freaked out about that. He was charming and generous and made me feel like I was a mature woman and not the silly girl I really was. Girls that age just want to be treated like adults, you know. Always in a hurry to grow up. Of course he wanted more from me than I was willing or ready to give. One day he threw a party at his flat, and after I’d had a couple beers, he pushed me into an empty bedroom. I fought him, but I was in a weakened state having been drinking, and he was twice my size. If one of his drunken friends hadn’t stumbled in with a girl in his arms, something awful would’ve happened. I got away and ran home. I never told anyone. I was too embarrassed.”
“We have to escape, Gabi, so I can hunt down and kill that guy.”
Gabriele’s lips pulled up into a slight smile. “He was a creep, but it made me determined never to let myself get into a compromising situation again. I’d wanted to grow up and I did. I got smarter and stronger. That’s when I took the self-defense class.”
Callum squeezed her fingers. “Thanks for telling me that.”
Gabriele squeezed back. “It felt confessional.”
“I have a confession, too,” Callum said. “Mick and I shared everything, but never girls. We had an
unspoken agreement. I broke it once.”
Gabriele’s stomach clenched. “With Clover?”
“No, not her.”
Gabriele sighed with an undefinable relief.
“It was the girl he was with just before Clover. Alice Bentley. They stayed together for only three months, and somewhere in the middle of that time, I kissed her. The three of us were watching the telly. Well, I was trying to watch. Mick and Alice were playing tongue wars, and it was ticking me off that they would make out with me sitting right there. They thought they were being discreet because the room was dark, but a telly sheds a lot more light than you’d think. I tried to ignore them, but, being the young hormonal twit that I was, I was also fascinated and my eyes were on them more often than they were on the movie we were all supposedly watching.
“During an advert, Mick skipped upstairs to the loo. I got it in my head that I wanted to know what it was like to kiss Alice, too, so I scooted close to her, leaned in and kissed her. Her eyes bugged out at first, but then she closed them and kissed me back. We broke apart when we heard the stairs creak. I put a finger to my lips indicating that she shouldn’t tell Mick. I stood quickly and said I wasn’t feeling well, and I went to bed. It wasn’t a lie. I felt sick over what I did. After that, I vowed never to touch one of Mick’s girls. And I hadn’t. Until yesterday.”
It seemed like forever and a day ago that Gabriele had made out with Callum in the bathtub.
“What changed?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that Mick isn’t here to find out.”
She choked out, “Do you regret it?”
Callum didn’t hesitate. “No, not at all.”
Gabriele was about to tell him she felt the same way when she startled at the clicking of the door handle. It squeaked as it opened and a large shadow filled the space.
CALLUM’S EYES blinked rapidly in the sudden bright light. He glanced to the ceiling to find the source—a bare bulb hung off-center in the room. A man stood beneath it with the attached string still pressed between dark fingers. Callum recognized him from the intel MI5 had gathered. Bushy black brows arched over dark, deep-set eyes. His nose protruded over thin lips. Aban Vaziri.
