“Marc doesn’t talk to anyone about his cases. None of them do,” she said quietly.
London hated how her cheeks burned. She stopped almost too fast at the red light ahead of them and turned to stare at Natasha head-on.
“I didn’t even know what he did for a living until he decided to come get me and bring me down here. And then I went on a leap of faith. Honestly, if I hadn’t found the KFA Web site and called and talked to you, which helped me believe the legitimacy of all of this, I don’t know if I would have agreed to come down here.”
“I’m glad you did.” Natasha sounded serious for the first time. “The action figures really spooked my uncle. He took it as a personal stab and believed the same jab was directed toward Marc. Whoever sent those pictures and action figures was sending a very cryptic message. But they made one thing very clear. You and Aunt Haley were in serious trouble, or you two both would be if Uncle Greg and Marc didn’t cooperate or see out some agenda. The person who sent everything was telling us you both would be hurt, or worse,” she added, lowering her voice, “if we don’t do what they want.”
“This is all just so fucked up,” London said, blowing out an exasperated sigh. “These people are dangerous and seriously sick in the head. If they went to all the work they did to clean up that motel room, who is to say they also didn’t go to the effort to booby-trap the room somehow?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. But we have a few traps of our own we can set.”
London wasn’t sure what to think of Natasha when she looked at her smug grin. Her light brown eyes were almost golden, and they glowed when the corner of her mouth curved. She gave London a crooked smile that reminded her of how Jake looked when he was pleased with himself.
“I’m going to teach you all about this line of work,” Natasha said, pulling her attention from London and reaching for her purse, which was on the floor by her feet. “The King family all use scramblers in their cell phones. Let me see yours.”
“You mean so no one can listen in when you talk?”
“Exactly.”
London pulled into a busy convenience store lot and parked alongside the building. They could see the motel across the street. She pulled her phone out and handed it over, then watched as Natasha disassembled it, installed a flat disk underneath the SIM card, and put the phone back together.
She handed London’s phone back to her. “Not only do these awesome little gizmos scramble our calls so no one can eavesdrop; they also have a tracking device in them.”
“Like a GPS?” London asked, flipping her phone in her hand and glancing up when several teenagers hurried around their car and into the store.
“Yes. Something like that.”
“So do you know where Marc and Jake are?” London’s heart skipped a beat as she shot an anxious look at Natasha.
Natasha was so beautiful. When she smiled it made her appear classy and graceful. It was hard picturing this woman hunting criminals. Maybe what she was doing right now was her part of the job in this business. It sounded exciting playing with gadgets and searching on the computer to track down criminals.
“Their tracking devices are still operating.” She suddenly looked really excited as she hugged her purse to her chest. “This isn’t the safest place and I really don’t want to check into a hotel just yet. We’d be making ourselves the bait instead of the hunters. Let’s find a park, or somewhere a bit more secluded. I’ll show you how this works and we should be able to track down their exact location.”
“I won’t promise you I won’t get lost,” London said as she began backing out of the stall. “This is a pretty good-sized city.”
“That’s why we have our handy GPS navigator here,” Natasha said, and began pushing buttons on the GPS fixed to the dash. “And in case you’re curious, I’ve got a scrambler installed in this baby, too. No one can pick up on any course we plot and learn where we’re going.”
London was more than a little impressed. She was backing out of the stall just as a pickup truck turned into the parking lot.
“Crap,” she hissed, slamming on the brake to avoid hitting the truck.
She looked over her shoulder, her heartbeat accelerating as a cold sweat broke out over her flesh. They’d just missed hitting that truck, which would have meant calling the police if they’d been in an accident. Not to mention, she wouldn’t want to have to tell Marc she’d wrecked his perfect Mustang.
Another car pulled away from one of the gas pumps and the crashing sound was like an explosion in London’s head.
“Wow,” Natasha said, staring at the pickup truck they’d just missed and the car from the gas pump with their front ends attached.
“No shit,” London breathed, watching as several college-aged boys piled out of the car, ranting and raving as they started at the pickup truck.
London looked over her shoulder carefully, not sure her nerves could handle much more today but something was telling her she needed to toughen up quickly in order to handle what lay ahead. She backed out of the stall, avoiding the rear end of the truck, and turned to leave the parking lot. Two large men got out of the truck, both of them mean-looking and ugly. Instead of focusing on the college kids who were making a big deal out of a fender bender, both men were staring at her as she headed out of the lot.
“God, blame us for your accident,” Natasha sneered, and fastened her seat belt.
Something crawled over London’s flesh as they left the convenience store and took off down the street. There were jerks on the street all the time. Just because that truck came flying into the parking lot just as she was trying to back out of her stall didn’t mean anything. The men glared at her as if they were pissed she was leaving. That didn’t necessarily mean anything either.
What if they were the men trying to find her ever since she ran from the motel room? And if they were trying to find her, why hadn’t they been at the motel room when she’d gone back for her purse and her and all of their luggage?
“There is a school-crossing sign,” Natasha said, pointing out her window.
London was all for cutting off the main road as quickly as possible and getting lost on side streets. An unsettling feeling continued brewing inside her that she didn’t like.
“This might work,” London said, forcing her grip to relax on the steering wheel as she slowed to the speed limit and checked out a quiet park to their right.
She didn’t wait for Natasha’s consent but pulled into the park and stopped the car alongside a row of trees that offered a fair bit of privacy. She was out of the car and stretching before Natasha released her seat belt.
“Are you okay?” Natasha hugged herself against a brisk wind as she walked around the front of the idling Mustang. “Almost hitting that truck rattled your nerves, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know if it was that as much as it was how they glared at us when we left.”
“As if they were pissed we were getting away?” Natasha asked.
London shot Natasha a quick look and stared at her a moment until Natasha’s expression relaxed and she grinned, knowing she’d figured it out.
“Yeah,” London admitted. “What if those were the men who have been trying to find me ever since I ran from the motel room?”
“Then I’d say you got away from them.”
London nodded, rubbing her arms and taking in her surroundings. Swings swayed back and forth against the gusts of wind that caused tree branches to make creaking noises around them. The sun was gone and a gray, overcast sky hung low overhead. There wasn’t that feeling in the air of a storm coming in like she would sense back home. She couldn’t tell if it was going to snow or just get cold and dismal.
“For now,” she said finally, continuing to watch her surroundings. “These people went to a lot of effort to take my parents and make me aware of their efforts along the way.” The fact that whoever plotted this ordeal had gone to the effort to find out Jonnie and Ruby Brooke had a daughter, and then to learn where
London lived, showed all the effort they’d put into pulling this fiasco off. She paraphrased for Natasha, though. “They plotted and planned. Those aren’t the kind of people who are going to let a loose end like me simply slip away. They’re going to keep chasing me.”
“You can handle it,” Natasha said quietly, sounding like she believed London was that strong.
London didn’t want comfort. When she sensed Natasha might reach out and touch her, she walked around her, facing the street through the trees and watched the cars drive up and down it.
“You’d be surprised what I can handle,” London said, having no desire to paint a picture of any kind for Natasha. At the same time, though, London couldn’t stomach sympathy. “This is a different world for me. I’m going to freak out about it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not strong enough to handle it.”
“I’m the same way,” Natasha said.
She didn’t elaborate when London turned around. Instead, Natasha held up her purse and nodded. “I’m going to set this up and I’ll show you how it works.”
London ended up standing outside the passenger side door, watching as Natasha set up a small laptop and plugged it into the cigarette lighter.
“I love these things,” she said, looking up at London and grinning. “Every time I learn of a new toy that performs some amazing feat, I go nuts until I can get my hands on it. I’m really quite the geek. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.” London had a feeling those who knew Natasha well probably already knew that about her.
In a matter of minutes she had the small laptop up and running and was typing so fast her fingers were almost a blur. “Okay. It really is quite simple,” she began.
London always grew wary when anyone started out an explanation with those words. She knelt outside the car, though, leaning in and watching the screen as Natasha explained how it worked.
“Every scrambler comes with its own code. I simply load them on here,” she explained, pointing to the screen as she spoke. “And once I activate the scrambler and link it to this program, it goes live. See?”
To her amazement, London did see. “Wait a minute,” she said, leaning in closer and pointing to a small red blinking circle on the screen. “Is that me?”
Natasha laughed. “Well, technically it’s your cell phone. But assuming your phone is on you or very nearby, then yes, that is you.”
“So where are Marc and Jake?” she asked.
“Well,” Natasha began, and began tapping on the keyboard. “I’m pulling the screen out, making the perimeter larger. Now, you and I are still right here. This is Flagstaff, and as we continue to move out we see the surrounding land around the city. And this,” she said, pausing and then pointing to the bottom of the screen when a red circle began beating. “This would be Jake’s cell phone.”
“Oh c my c God,” London breathed, drawing out the words as she stared at the small circle. It was a paler red than her circle and occasionally disappeared. “Does that mean his signal is weak?”
“Yes, which is the part I don’t understand. There is incredible interference around him. The only other explanation would be that his scrambler is wearing out or somehow malfunctioning, but Jake’s scrambler isn’t that old.” She looked up at London and made a face. “He ran over his phone a few weeks ago in the driveway, crunched it beyond recognition,” she added, rolling her eyes.
“Then Marc’s should be even stronger, since it’s brand-new.”
“Those two go through cell phones faster than they do women.” She slapped her hand over her mouth the moment the words were out and looked at London wide-eyed. “Shit. I’m sorry. It really was just an expression. Marc doesn’t date that many women. Now, Jake, on the other hand.” She shook her head. “But anyway.”
London really didn’t want to touch the topic of how many women Marc had, or had not been with prior to them meeting. “So where is Marc’s signal?” London asked, staring at the screen. “And where exactly is that signal coming from?”
“Hold on; hold on,” Natasha said, and continued tapping her fingers against the keys, hitting the up and down arrow keys, then the side-to-side keys as she navigated and worked her way closer into the location where Jake’s signal had first appeared.
“There’s another signal,” London announced, speaking too loud as she thrust her finger at the small laptop.
“Yup. Give me a minute.” Natasha didn’t comment on London’s sudden excitement over the second signal appearing.
“Where are they?” London tried reading the screen and figuring out for herself when Natasha didn’t say anything.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she said finally.
“What doesn’t?”
“Well, they aren’t anywhere.” Natasha shook her head, taking her hands off the laptop and crossing her arms. She balanced the screen on her knees and scowled at it. “I’m starting to think their phones might have been dumped somewhere. We can drive down there and make sure, but these signals are coming from south of town. There’s nothing there.”
“Are you sure there is nothing there?”
“I’m sure. The signals and map don’t lie.” Natasha suddenly sounded irritated and thrust her hands into her hair, messing with the two sticks that held it in place. “According to this, Marc and Jake are out in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t even a road there.”
London straightened, glancing around her again when the wind picked up. She grabbed her hair, pulling it behind her head to prevent it from slapping her in her face as she hurried around the car. Then sliding into the seat, she cranked up the heat.
“God, it’s freezing,” Natasha complained, pulling her door closed and continuing to balance her laptop on her lap.
“Is there any chance those signals are coming from around Canyon Diablo?” London asked, shifting into gear and turning around in the parking lot.
“Canyon Diablo?” Natasha glanced at her before trying to type with one hand and hold on to the laptop with the other to keep it from sliding off her legs as London left the park and accelerated.
“This morning we were headed down there. Marc and Jake were there the other day, and that’s where Jake was shot.”
“Interesting.” She typed faster and stared at the screen. “That is exactly where the signals are coming from. But according to this, Canyon Diablo is nothing more than crumbling foundations from old buildings and a few grave markers.”
“Apparently there is more there than it appears,” London said, accelerating into traffic and trying to program the GPS on the dash at the same time.
“Here, I’ll do it,” Natasha offered, taking over and typing in the information the GPS needed. “You drive. Sounds like we’re going to go explore some old ruins.”
Chapter Thirteen
Marc rubbed his wrists, the swelling and chafing irritating the crap out of him. His skin was on fire and felt tight against his bones. The cold, hard cement underneath him didn’t help matters. When he turned his head he swore there were several large bumps on the back of his head. His vision was blurred and the metallic taste in his mouth pretty much convinced him that whoever it was he had taken on, Marc got the raw end of the deal.
As he searched through the cloud in his brain trying to remember whom he’d gotten in a fight with, Marc continued trying to focus. He didn’t have a clue where he was. It appeared to be a jail cell, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to get here.
Maybe it was because he got in a fight.
“I think he’s waking up,” a woman said, her voice crisp, which helped slice through the fog in his brain.
Marc turned his head in the direction of her voice.
“Good. I’ll come back in an hour or so once his head is clear.” The voice of the man who spoke sounded familiar. “Keep an eye on his vitals.”
“They’re fine now, although that doesn’t surprise me. Would you look at him?”
The man laughed. Marc knew that laugh. Anger spike
d inside him and he knew he hated that man. But why? Marc’s brain wasn’t cooperating. For the life of him, he couldn’t find any memories of why he was here or who that man was.
“He’s not my type,” the man said. “And he’s not your type, either,” he added, his tone darkening. “Just do your job.”
“Aye, aye, boss,” she said, and giggled.
Marc heard both of them as if they were right next to him, and couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t see them. The room grew quiet, if it was a room he was in. He lifted his hands and rubbed his eyes. His fingers were like sandpaper. When he tried licking his lips his tongue seemed swollen. Even clearing his voice seemed a task too complicated to perform. These weren’t side effects to losing a fight. There was something else wrong with him.
“Don’t worry, darling.” The woman was right next to him, standing over him. Her fingers were cold when she touched his forehead. “You’ll be back to your usual Neanderthal self in an hour or so. Although it’s a shame. I think I like you docile like this.”
“Where am I?” Marc struggled to get the words out. His mouth was too dry. “Water,” he added, managing to make himself more audible.
“Very impressive,” she purred. “You really shouldn’t be able to speak yet.”
She rewarded him with something wet against his lips. Marc opened his mouth, sucking greedily on what felt like a wet washcloth.
“Not too fast, my dear,” the woman told him, and started pulling the washcloth out of his mouth. “Don’t fight recuperating. Your body will take some time to recover and we want you up to full speed again, now don’t we?”
“Where am I?” he asked again, and focused on the blur hovering over him. He wouldn’t have known she was a woman if it weren’t for her voice.
“Recuperating,” she said, which didn’t answer the question.
She patted his forehead with the cold washcloth and Marc was certain nothing had ever felt better. With every passing minute, his skin smoothed over his bones and began to fit right on his body again. Talk about a strange sensation.
Get Lucky Page 24
