By the time the first speaker took back the microphone waiters were scurrying around the room, clearing plates and pouring coffee and tea. The speaker thanked the crowd for their support, urging the people to place their bids in the silent auction and announcing that the senator would be taking the stage to say a few words.
Layla watched the woman by Senator Blackwell’s side kiss his cheek just before he rose, buttoned his suit coat and nodded benignly to the applauding crowd in the ballroom. He walked up to the microphone, the very soul of dignity, clasping the woman’s hand in both of his with a well-practiced gleam in his eye.
“How about a big round of applause for Shepard’s house?” he said, getting an enthusiastic response from the crowd. He dove into a polished speech that was filled with empty platitudes, delivered with all of the well-practiced sincerity of a career politician.
A line of waiters poured out of the kitchen, bearing trays laden with squares of cocoa dusted Tiramisu served on gilt rimmed plates. They blocked Layla’s view of the stage, but she saw the young woman from his table rise, take her purse and wind her way through the tables towards the hallway just outside of the ballroom. Layla followed her into the ladies room, curious.
When she entered the powder room, she found the girl busy re-applying her lipstick. Layla took the mirror beside her, fluffing her hair and straightening her collar.
“Is that Mac Angel?” Layla asked her with a winning smile. “It’s my favorite color.”
The girl pressed her lips together and nodded, struck by the stranger’s mismatched eyes. “Yes it is. It’s my favorite too.”
“Have you tried their tinted lip-gloss?” Layla asked, putting her completely at ease with a cloud of peachy trust.
“No, is it good?”
“I love it! I’m Layla. What’s your name?” she asked her, extending her hand.
“Jessica,” the girl replied.
“Cute shoes,” Layla complimented her. “Where did you get them?”
Jessica found herself talking to the stranger like she’d known her for years, listing all of her favorite places to shop.
Layla enveloped her in a thick cloud of admiration. “You really know all the best places.”
“Yeah, I grew up in LA,” Jessica said.
“We should go shopping sometime,” Layla suggested.
Jessica sighed with regret, not at all alarmed by her sudden intimacy with a complete stranger. “Sorry, but I live in Florida now. I got as far away as I could get after high school. University of Miami. My mother insisted that I come home for spring break.”
“I’m on break too,” Layla said with a friendly smile.
“Where do you go?” Jessica asked.
Layla remembered the shirt that Mina had given Michael to wear. “UCLA,” she answered.
They both heard the low roar of applause coming from the ballroom. “I’d better be getting back,” Jessica said, “My father’s probably done with his speech by now, and I need to be there to greet him. Got to keep up appearances,” she added with a note of sarcasm.
“Senator Blackwell is your father?” Layla feigned surprise.
“Uh huh,” she nodded, snapping her purse shut.
“Do you think you could introduce me?” Layla asked. “It’s just … I’m on the school paper, and I’d love to get an quick interview.”
“I can do better than that,” she smiled. “Why don’t you join us for dessert? He’s always up for some publicity. You can ask him yourself.”
“That,” Layla smiled with anticipation, “Would be great!”
The two girls re-entered the room and made for the table just as the senator started to descend the stairs. Layla shook Mrs. Blackwell’s hand politely and took a seat next to Jessica, watching as her prey wound his way through the tables towards her. All of the terror and helpless despair she’d suffered at his hands echoed in her mind, fueling a mighty force building up within her.
Senator Charles Blackwell shook his constituent’s hands all the way to his seat, relieved that his annoying ordeal was finally coming to an end. When he sat down and looked up he discovered that it was only just beginning.
“Daddy,” Jessica said, gesturing. “I want you to meet my friend Layla. She wants to ask you something.”
Senator Blackwell’s heart started racing when he saw who was sitting at his table; a roaring ocean of blood rushed in his ears and drowned out all the sound in the room. He felt faint, and wondered if he was hallucinating. The senator was a man who compartmentalized his life, and he found himself completely disoriented as he watched his two worlds collide.
Their eyes met, and all of the power Layla could manage focused like a laser beam to deliver the most potent blast of fear that she’d ever produced. She watched as all of the blood drained from his face and his lower lip started to quiver.
“So nice to meet you … Senator,” Layla held out her hand.
It took every ounce of control that Senator Blackwell had to keep from bolting from the room. An overwhelming sense of dread overtook him, and he reached a limp, trembling hand across the table to shake hers.
Layla smiled politely, “I was hoping that you might answer a few questions for me.”
He’d never been so terrified in his life, and sweat beaded on his upper lip. He could feel his legs tremble under the table as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. She should be afraid of him, but instead she just stared at him with a placid smile on her face. As she watched him crumble inside, her smile broadened, and she looked as smug as the cat that ate the canary.
“Um … Uh …” he groped for words, his voice unnaturally high. “About what?”
“I was wondering, do you have any hobbies? Anything you like to do in your spare time?” Her eyes bored into his again, and he felt an ice cold dread. All of his secrets were about to be exposed, on display for everyone to see.
“Why Charles, you’re as white as a sheet,” his wife noticed. “Are you feeling alright?”
Layla watched him squirm, remembering how he’d shown her no pity. It felt good to re-claim her power, so when his eyes darted back to hers she dosed him again, sending another flood of terrifying, dreadful, paralyzing fear. He groped for his water glass, trying to take a drink but choking on it, launching into a violent fit of coughing.
Everyone at the table turned to look at him. His wife patted his back, speaking under her breath, “Charles … you’re making a scene.”
Jessica rolled her eyes and looked away with embarrassment.
Layla decided that she’d probably done enough. She doubted that Senator Blackwell would forget this day anytime soon, and judging by the gray sheen to his skin he wouldn’t risk coming after her again if he knew what was good for him.
“Excuse me, but I’d better be going,” Layla said, casting a sympathetic glance towards Jessica. “Good luck in Florida.”
Somehow, she knew that she’d never be seeing Senator Blackwell again, and she walked out of the ballroom with her aching head held high, putting it all behind her. When she stepped into the sunshine to wait for the valet to bring her car around she took a deep breath and looked up at the clear blue sky, smiling with sweet relief.
She took the keys and slid behind the wheel with a sigh. The day was only halfway over, but she was tired, depleted from all of the strain she’d put herself through. Layla pulled out onto the main road, paying no mind to the ambulance that screamed past her and pulled up with a screech in front of the hotel.
All she cared about was getting back to Ramon.
~
Chapter Fifteen
REUNION
~
Caledonia disembarked from the plane to find Calvin’s father Jim waiting to pick her up and take her to the hospital.
She raced over to him, relieved to see a familiar face. “How is he?”
“Better. He’s starting to come around, but he’s still pretty disoriented,” he told her, going into detail about the medications Calvin had b
een put on, and how they’d weaned him slowly, hoping that there would be no permanent damage.
Jim looked tired, and Caledonia could see that he’d also been through an ordeal for the past few days. “He sat up and drank some water this morning,” he added hopefully, “And he talked to Jarod a little.”
“What did he say?” she asked
“He asked for you.”
“What did Jarod tell him?”
“That you were on the way.”
She nodded, not needing to hear any more. She could read every nuance of emotion that Calvin’s father displayed, knowing when he was genuinely optimistic and when he was simply trying to make her feel better. She was simply going to have to wait and see for herself.
Jim kept glancing anxiously at her as he drove, finally working up the courage to ask, “So what happened to you? Who did this?”
“It was the same people that killed Max after we rescued Layla.”
“Why would they shoot Calvin and take you?”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek. She’d been dreading all of the lies she was going to have to tell to her friends and family, but the critical importance of keeping her abilities a secret from everyone had just been made brutally clear to her.
“They wanted to know what I knew about the murders. I guess they didn’t want to leave any witnesses.”
“What about Michael?”
“They were using us to try and make Layla turn herself over.”
When they stopped at a traffic light he asked, “How did you get away?”
She made eye contact with him, forcing him to believe her. “Layla and her boyfriend came to LA and found us. It’s over for good now, and no one will come looking for us ever again,” she said with finality.
“That’s a relief,” he accepted her story without further questions.
When they pulled up to the hospital she bolted out of the car, waiting impatiently for Jim to show her the way to the hospital room. The elevator ride took forever, and she was practically frantic by the time the door opened onto Calvin’s floor. She blew past the nurse’s station and into his room, gasping when she saw his still form stretched out on a hospital bed.
She rushed to his side, laying her hands on his face, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Calvin … it’s me … Calvin I’m back,” she whispered, pressing her smooth cheek to his rough one. “I made it.”
He was breathing steadily, but he didn’t stir. She pulled the hospital gown back to see the bandage covering his gunshot wound. She leaned over the railing to press her ear to his chest, her eyes filled with concern.
Satisfied by his strong, steady heartbeat, she looked up to see his father standing in the doorframe awkwardly, telling him, “You can go home and rest. I’ll stay with him now.”
He nodded, coming over to give her a hug and pat Calvin’s hand. “Can I bring you anything before I go?”
“No thanks, I’m fine,” she replied, standing up. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
A grey haired nurse bustled in, surprised to see Caledonia. “Did you just get here? I’m afraid that visiting hours are over in ten minutes.”
She turned to Calvin’s father. “We removed the IV port line and got him to sit up while you were gone. He’s still quite disoriented, but he’s strong, and we expect him to come around faster than most.” She looked over to Caledonia, whose had taken Calvin’s hand in hers and lifted it to her lips.
“Excuse me miss, but he needs to rest. You’re going to have to come back in the morning to see him.”
Caledonia looked up at her with tired eyes. “When can I take him home?” she asked.
“You’ll have to ask the attending physician, but he’ll be ready for discharge when he’s able to walk without dizziness.”
Caledonia nodded, determined to see it happen. “I’ll be staying here overnight,” she said. After what she’d just been through she wasn’t about to leave his side, and she used her last bit of energy to completely pacify the no-nonsense woman.
The nurse opened her mouth and closed it, finally nodding in agreement. “Okay. Press this buzzer if you need anything,” she gestured to the bedside table, turning on her heel to march out briskly.
“Whoa! And she’s the mean one!” Jim exclaimed with surprise, scratching the back of his neck. “She has been watching over him like a hawk, though.”
“I’m here now,” Caledonia said, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
He nodded gratefully. “I guess I’ll go home and get some rest. … Are you sure I can’t bring you anything?”
“No thanks,” she smiled gratefully, ushering him out the door.
Caledonia returned to Calvin’s bedside, finally letting her guard down. It had only been three days, but it felt like she’d been away from him for an eternity. She kicked her shoes off and climbed onto the bed. She turned her body sideways and snuggled in alongside the length of him, tracing his profile with her index finger, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered into his ear, her eyes burning. “I was so scared.”
His eyelids started twitching, and she propped up on her elbow to stroke his cheek, watching as his beautiful brown eyes opened and struggled to focus on her face.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked him, “What’s my name?”
His lips twitched up at the corners. “It’s not Rumplestiltskin.”
She smiled with relief, tears spilling out despite her best efforts to hold them back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, raising a clumsy hand to touch her face.
She wiped her eyes, seeing the makeup Layla had applied coming off onto the back of her hand. She smiled through her tears, shaking her head. “Nothing, I’m just happy.”
His brows knit together, and she could see him struggle to make sense of what was going on. “I had a terrible dream. … They came to the house. … They came for you.”
“It’s okay,” she smoothed the hair back from his forehead, passing her lips lightly across his cheek. “I’m right here.”
He tried to sit up and winced, “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”
“You got shot,” she explained. “You hit your head when you fell.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital.”
His brows knit together. “How long?”
“It’s been three days.”
“Three days!” His eyes started darting around as he tried to remember. “What happened?”
She reached over to the bedside table for a bottle of water, putting a straw in it and bringing it to his lips. “Drink.”
He lifted his head to take a sip, blinking. “Who did it?”
“It was the guys that killed Max. They were working with Professor Reed.”
She saw his anger flare. “That Bastard! I’ll kill him!”
“He won’t be bothering us anymore.” She pressed her lips together, not wanting to re-live the whole thing quite yet. “Are you hungry?” she asked him. “I’ll go get you something.”
He shook his head. “No. No! Answer me! What happened after they shot me? Why are you dressed up like Layla?”
She laughed at his observation, falling back down to lay her tired aching head on the pillow alongside his. “It’s all over now, and you need to focus on getting well so we can go home.”
He suddenly bolted up. “Where’s Poddy?”
“He’s fine. Crystal has him,” Caledonia mumbled.
Her long ordeal had finally ended; she was warm, relieved and so very, very tired. It was time for her to surrender to her fatigue. When he settled back down she curled herself around him, relaxed as a sleepy puppy. With Calvin’s comforting scent filling her nostrils, she fell fast asleep in an instant.
~
Frankie had spent a long sleepless night taking stock of his situation. He was still unable to locate the two men he’d sent to pick up Layla, and it was becoming increasingly clear to him that he h
ad seriously underestimated what these girls were capable of. Starting with the botched kidnapping, there had been one stupid mistake after another; now it was time for him to get the hell out of town.
He pounded his fist on the table in frustration. He never should have taken the word of that kooky old professor.
“Hurry it up!” he snapped as his two able bodied men took the stacks of cash out of his safe and stuffed them into four large suitcases lying open across the table. When the last bag was loaded and zipped, Frankie walked over, drew his weapon and calmly dispatched the wounded man on the couch, leaving him where he lie.
“Chop chop! Let’s go,” he told his two remaining men, motioning for them to take the suitcases. He flung the door open, shocked to find that a gang of men had silently assembled on the porch, all dressed in fatigues and armed with military style weapons that were aimed directly at him.
“Whoa!” he cried, staggering backwards a step.
Frankie and his last two men were made to kneel in front of the stone fireplace, forced to look into the dead eyes of their fallen comrade. Frankie tried to bargain with the stone-faced men, offering them money, drugs and women.
“I can get plenty more than that,” he boasted, nodding towards the suitcases that had been opened and spread out on the floor. “I can make you all rich men!”
His face fell when he looked up to see a figure standing in the doorframe, outlined in the soft light that filtered through the trees.
“Hola, my friend,” Don Miguel said.
By the time the cartel interrogation was finished Frankie was begging for the oblivion of death. The money was counted and hauled away while Don Miguel went to the sink and meticulously washed his hands. He gave the final order and walked out the door without looking back.
Don Miguel’s death squad opened fire, shredding the three men into bits and spattering them across the stones of the hearth. At that precise moment, in a luxurious downtown hotel, Senator Blackwell clutched his chest and fell face first into his Tiramisu.
The Redcastle Redemption (The Athena Effect) Page 13
