by Rachel Caine
Katie slid her hand down his arm in a silent caress, then put it back on the Jaguar’s gearshift as she downshifted to Third and powered around a slow-lumbering semi. Her brain was working faster than ever, examining and cataloging every panel truck she spotted. None of them—and all of them—matched so far. She wasn’t going to find them this way.
Stefan said that the truck had been on North Harbor, at the Port of Los Angeles. It was too big, too nonspecific, and too hot a crisis for her to continue to Lone Ranger her way through this.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, girls. She’d wanted to do this for them—for Kayla—for the school. She’d wanted to be there and protect them, but in the end, it was all about getting them back, not whose hands were on the job.
Katie slowed the Jaguar, drifted through lanes of traffic, and pulled off the 110 to a side street, found a parking lot and put the lovely automobile in Park.
Then she reached across and retrieved the cell phone from the floor where Stefan had dropped it.
Her first call was to Allison Gracelyn. Her second was to Alex Forsythe. Her third was to the FBI Los Angeles field office, and that one took a while because she had to establish her bona fides and convince the agents there to put her in touch with the task force. It seemed to take forever, but she knew that was subjective; they moved as fast as they could, given the circumstances. The task force had a lot to process right now.
She didn’t mention Stefan, or psychic visions, but she did tell them she had impeccable information that the van they were preparing for takedown was a decoy, and she described, as best she could, what they should be looking for. In the end, she wasn’t sure that the agent in charge, Salazar—she’d worked with him once before on a missing persons case—was completely convinced, but her reputation alone was enough to make him commit resources. They’d pursue both courses, she was sure…the decoy van, and the truck heading for the port.
Nothing else useful she could do. She risked Stefan’s health, and maybe his life, if she continued to push him for information. It’s out of your hands, she told herself. It’s being handled. It’s all right to let it go.
She never let anything go. It was a character flaw, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it; even when she’d had to walk away from cases, she always kept copies, boxes of files for reference, and she would periodically go back and review them, start to finish, to be sure she hadn’t missed any leads. Cold cases got hot, that was a definitive fact.
But this…This ached in ways that other cases hadn’t. It was family. It was personal. And she was so close!
Katie Rush folded up the phone, stared out into the blinding Los Angeles morning, and thought about failure. She’d failed before…. Failed to find people in time, and seen the bitter aftermath. Failed to close cases at all. Even failed herself, once or twice, with bad relationships and worse habits.
But she’d never failed her sisters from Athena Academy. Never.
And you won’t, she promised herself. You never will.
It wouldn’t hurt to just go to the Port. All she had was a vague description and North Harbor Road, after all. The chances of her actually finding anything were small to infinitesimal.
Stefan needs a doctor.
Stefan would agree with her about going to the port, too.
The voice in her head had no real answer for that.
Katie leaned across, checked Stefan and cleaned his face as best she could. He still looked pale and felt chilly despite the warm L.A. sun. His pulse continued to beat steadily, and his eyes moved rapidly behind his lids…dreaming, maybe.
“Sleep,” she whispered and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “You’ve earned it.”
She started the Jaguar and eased it back into gear, heading for the entrance to the freeway and the port.
Stefan didn’t want to wake up because it hurt. All over. First, his head: Post-vision hangover didn’t cover it. It felt like a real hangover, one induced by several bottles of Everclear and a punch from a world champion boxer. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was searing, and the swirl of color made him instantly sick.
“Shit,” he whispered, and leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. “Katie?”
Her hand, gentle and warm on the back of his neck. “Right here,” she said. “I’m right here.”
He felt road vibration, and his brain slowly put the pieces together. They were still in the car, then, still on the trail…and it wasn’t over. Some part of him screamed in pain at the thought, but he ignored it. He’d do what he had to do, and deal with the consequences later.
“I told you, right?” His voice sounded hoarse and unsteady, and he worked to make it normal again. “About the truck? About the port?”
“North Harbor Road,” she assured him. “We’re three minutes from the exit. I called the task force—I’m hoping they’ll be there ahead of us, or at least get the Port Police mobilized.”
“But they don’t have a description. Not of the truck.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, but her hand stayed on him, steadying him. Reassuring him, without words, that he was still here and still wanted.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “If we have to stop and search every truck, we will. They’re not getting away, Stefan. Not this time.”
Whistling past the graveyard, he thought. He sat back and forced his eyes to open and stay open, and braced himself as his mind came to terms with the world beyond his skin again. There. Not so bad. Bright and blinding, yes, but he could deal with it. It was no worse than the champagne hangover after the last development deal with Paramount, right?
“If you’re so sure,” he asked, “why are we still going that way?”
“Because when they get Lena and Teal back, I think we should be there. I think you should be there.” Katie turned and glanced at him, and he was struck by the emotion in her lovely eyes. She looked tired, stressed, but there was a glow in her that even the current circumstances couldn’t dim. “You’re a hero, Stefan.”
He wanted to deny that because he knew deep down it wasn’t true…. He’d gone out to Arizona in the first place partly for altruistic reasons, sure, but also because he’d just been interested. And then there had been Katie…and Katie was a powerful inducement all on her own. Heroes didn’t need bribes.
But, shamefully, he wanted her to keep on thinking it, even if it wasn’t true. The feeling it gave him was indescribable.
“When this is over,” he said, “I’m going to take you away, Katie Rush. Someplace tropical, where bikinis are formal wear and a full meal is a mai tai and a banana. And I’m going to make you forget every moment in your life that’s ever hurt you.”
He had no idea what prompted him to say it. It wasn’t calculated; it wasn’t smooth; it came out rough and unprepared but from the heart. Her eyes widened, and she shot him another very fast glimpse.
There was a whole world in that look. A universe.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Katie said, very softly.
He held out his hand. She took it, and the warmth and strength of her fingers made something wounded in him begin to heal.
“Then let’s finish this,” he said. “Because I can’t wait to see you in a bikini.”
“You’ve seen me in less,” she reminded him.
“Not in the last hour. I think it should be a rule that I see you naked every hour.”
She lost her smile, and her gaze fixed straight ahead. “We’re getting close,” she said. “Stefan, promise me you won’t let Teal drag you in again. Promise me.”
Because she was afraid that now, if they were cornered, Teal could be hurt badly, maybe killed. She was afraid that might hurt him, too, maybe fatally…and he couldn’t be sure of anything, at this point. His physical reactions were getting worse, and clearly Teal didn’t know, or couldn’t control the effect she was having on him.
Then you have to control it. After all, he was the adult.
“I can’t promise,” he said. �
�She may need me.”
Katie’s eyes glittered briefly, but she didn’t look at him again, and she reclaimed her hand from his to handle the shifting duties. The rest of the drive—and it was short and fast—passed in tense silence. He kept his mind still, listening for any hint that Teal might be trying to send to him, but he felt and heard nothing.
Maybe they’d finally knocked the girls out. He wondered why they hadn’t done it earlier.
“I have to make a guess,” Katie said. “Would they go to the public-access areas, or do they have some kind of private shipping ready for the girls?”
“It’s not much of a guess, is it?”
“No,” she said. “The way these bastards planned things, they wouldn’t take the risk of bringing the girls through any public areas. Lena and Teal are too resourceful, and Lena in particular is too recognizable. So we look at commercial shipping.”
“That’s a problem. There’s about eight million containers that come and go from this port every year. Right now, there are probably at least twelve thousand containers sitting on the docks.”
“But how many of them are outbound?”
Stefan thought about it. “Less than half that many. If I had to guess, I’d say between three and four thousand.”
“But that’s shipping containers. How many ships?”
He shrugged. “Couple of hundred in docks right now, probably. Rule out the cruise ships and other passenger vessels and you’re looking at maybe a hundred to a hundred and fifty cargo and commercial vessels.” She shot him a look that clearly asked how he knew. Stefan smiled. “Didn’t my father tell you I was a born gypsy? I’ve spent most of my life on the streets. You pick up all kinds of knowledge. That’s courtesy of some dock work I did a few years ago.”
“Dock work,” she repeated. “You?”
He shrugged. “I was researching some ideas for a new network show, and I had to try it out. Tough guys down there, but they have good hearts.”
Stefan sensed that he’d once again tilted her perceptions of him off-center. He smiled again, this time to himself. Keep surprising her, he told himself. She can’t resist a mystery.
And he wanted to keep her interested in him, wanted that in ways he’d never wanted a woman before. Not just physically, but in his soul.
“Bridge coming up,” she said.
“Go over the bridge. It’ll dump you out on Seaside.”
“Where do I go from there?”
“Katie—” He hesitated for a second, then said, “Follow your instincts. I told my dad you were a precog, and I meant it. You’ve been right at every step—more right than anybody else. It’s time to let yourself believe in your own abilities. Have faith in yourself.”
“I’m not psychic, Stefan!”
“Then how did you know? How did you know they’d switched the girls out of the van? Your friend on the phone said there was no evidence the girls had been moved at all, everyone else agreed, but you knew, Katie. Didn’t you?”
Her knuckles whitened on the Jaguar’s leather-wrapped steering wheel. “It was a guess.”
“Then guess now. But don’t doubt yourself. Just do it.”
She didn’t say a word in response. The Jaguar rocketed over the Vincent Thomas Bridge, over the iron-gray waters of the Main Channel, and Stefan caught sight of helicopters above. Police helicopters, two of them. He pointed, and Katie nodded, lips compressed into a straight line.
“Right or left?” she asked as they exited from the bridge, and Seaside stretched across in front of the hood of the car. “Stefan! Right or left!”
He folded his arms. “You decide.”
She glared at him, then whipped the steering to the right. “I have no idea what’s this way.”
“Just keep following your instincts. Trust me, Katie. I know you can do it.”
She was utterly furious with him, but she drove without argument, following the curve of the road and ending again on Seaside Street. The entire area was commercial, some of it taken up by old cannery factories, many still operational. The smell of the docks hit Stefan with a vengeance, and he tried to remember anything that could have been helpful.
There was no sign of the FBI this direction. The police helicopters were hovering over a spot at least half a mile distant.
“They’ve got the wrong truck,” he said. “We’re on our own.”
“Maybe I’m the one who’s completely wrong!”
“No,” Stefan said with absolute certainty. “You’re not wrong. Trust yourself. Trust me.”
She muttered something about gypsy psychics and their high opinions of themselves, which made him smile, and suddenly braked and downshifted the car to a crawl. Her head snapped around to look at a completely nondescript warehouse behind a closed and locked chain-link fence.
“Stefan,” she said slowly. “I think—can you reach Teal? See if we’re close?”
He closed his eyes and opened up, opened fully, and felt a tentative brush against his mind.
Teal. She was awake—drugged, scared, sick, but awake. The vision he got from her was a confusing blur, but enough. Just enough.
Stefan opened his eyes and said, “We’re here. They’re inside the warehouse. There’s a ship docking outside. They’re going to load the girls onboard.”
Katie stopped, handed Stefan the cell phone and said, “Stay in the car.” She reached under her jacket and removed her pistol, checked the clip and safety, and made sure that her extra clips were ready to hand. “Call the Port Police and the FBI—the task force is the last call, so just redial. Get backup here as soon as possible. Tell them I have a visual on the girls.”
“Wait, Katie—”
“Stefan.” She already had the car door open. Even though she was physically next to him, she was already in the warehouse in every other way. “Every second counts. I won’t put myself at risk, but I have to do this.”
“Let me—”
“No. Stay.”
She slammed the door. Stefan cursed and opened his passenger-side door, got out and stood there as Katie vaulted athletically up the chain-link fence, expertly climbing and avoiding the razor wire at the top. She dropped down lightly on the other side, pulled her service weapon and ghosted away into the shadows.
Stefan’s fingers located the slender picklocks sewn into the cuffs of his silk shirt. Habit, but he never went anywhere without them…. Street magic was preparation meeting opportunity, and he was always prepared.
The lock on the gate took seconds.
He was no precog—he was happy to leave that to his mother—but there had been something not quite right about the vision he’d had from Teal. Something she’d only glimpsed, something he hadn’t properly interpreted.
He had to warn Katie, once it came clear.
Katie eased around the corner of the rust-and-aluminum warehouse, listening to the constant din of the port in the background…. Shrill beeps for loading equipment in operation, deep booming basso ship horns, metal banging on metal, and under it all, the constant hushing rush of the sea. Too much information. Too easy for something to be hidden.
There was a door at the side, partly ajar. She stopped when she saw it, frowning. In her experience, bad guys were more paranoid than good guys, and with better reasons. Leaving a door open at a critical moment like this? A very bad sign…for her.
She no longer doubted that she was in the right place. Her entire nervous system was sparking warnings to her. Beyond the warehouse, on the water, she saw a boat riding the waves at anchor, docked in close. Time was running out, if Stefan was right. If she was right.
She pulled back silently from the invitingly open door and retreated, went around the other side and found some grimy windows offering a dim view of the interior. Junk, mostly—a few wrecked boats being scavenged for parts, nameless pieces of rusted metal and pipe.
But near the open back sliding door, a cluster of people, and two kneeling figures.
It was her first physical look at the hostages,
and her heart kicked into high gear, hammering her pulse in her temples. Save them. You have to save them. But the odds were bad, and getting worse; three armed HTs that she could see, and at least two more, according to Stefan’s visions, who were missing from view. Not counting the crew of the ship, who almost certainly would be armed and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
One agent alone wasn’t going to be enough. She’d have to wait for backup.
She was starting to retreat when she spotted the broken window. It was in the junkyard part of the warehouse, and it gaped and flapped gently in the chilly sea breeze. She stared at it for a few seconds, then moved silently up to check the access. It looked clear, and it would give her a better vantage point; she’d be able to cover the other agents who arrived.
Getting through the window was a challenge, not so much for the awkward angle but the need for absolute silence. She managed, holding her breath at even the slightest scrape of glass under her feet, and counted to ten before she moved, very carefully, deeper into the shadows.
There was still no sign of the other two hostage takers that Stefan had seen in the visions…. Maybe they’d dropped off, or maybe they had other duties elsewhere. It was only the three silhouetted in the far end of the warehouse, and the two kneeling girls. Katie took a position behind a rusting ship’s prow, a massive piece of metal, and checked her firing angles. I can take them, she thought, and felt the back of her neck tighten up. It was against all her training, all her instincts to act alone, but it might also be necessary.
She took aim, but before she could fire, someone grabbed her bodily from behind, lifted her and flung her to the gritty concrete floor. She hit hard, rolled and tried to bring up her gun, but no further assault followed; the figure backed off and dived for the ground himself.
Stefan. He’d tackled her, and she’d been about to—
About to get her head blown off, apparently. A hail of gunfire erupted an instant later, sparking hot from the iron hull she’d been intending to use for cover…and the bullets were coming from behind her.
She’d been taken. Badly.
“Trap,” Stefan gasped, and inched closer for cover. A bullet pinged off of a giant metal flywheel not a foot away, and he went flat and motionless.
