Twisted Genius

by Patricia Rice

  Graham was aware of other cars following him through the busted gate, of Magda dashing toward her daughter, of men shouting. He didn’t react to anything but the unmoving crumpled ball of leopard fur.

  He got there first, scooping her out of the snow, and she stirred in his arms. He could have sworn she murmured “My very own Rambo” before she fell limp.

  Heart now pounding like a kettle drum, Graham held her close. He could feel her breathing against his chest, although not as strongly as he’d like. He shouted at his men to clean up, while he strode back to the Hummer, carrying his precious burden. He wouldn’t lose this woman, couldn’t.

  He didn’t even growl when Magda opened the back door and climbed in. He couldn’t drive and hold Ana at the same time. Magda was definitely not her usual polished self. Her sleek hair had tumbled down around her shoulders, she was covered in mud and snow and blood, and she was missing her high heels.

  “I’ll murder you later,” he said as he deposited her bleeding daughter into her arms.

  “Give me your first aid kit,” was her response.

  At least she had the grace to sound worried.

  Finding a solid first aid kit in the back—certain sign he’d stolen the Hummer from a physician—Graham dropped it near Magda, then climbed into the driver’s seat. He spun the damaged Hummer until he’d turned it around, then hit the gas. He refused to lose Ana. For the first time in his life, he abandoned the rest of the damned world and focused on the one part that meant more than life to him.

  Groggily, I pried my eyes open. My left shoulder didn’t move and seemed to be covered in a bulky bundle. I took some time to sift through the sands of memory. Ah, yes, I’d probably been shot by Sociopath Bill. Charming.

  I didn’t feel any pain, but as woozy as my head felt, I figured they’d filled me up with dope. I had a moment of panic wondering if it was Mylaudanix. That woke me up.

  I’d already subconsciously accepted that I was in a hospital bed. Now I realized I wasn’t alone, but the presence with me didn’t seem threatening. Graham. Even in the dark, I recognized him. Maybe it was his expensive cologne, but at this hour, it mixed with his familiar masculine musk.

  I wasn’t sure he was breathing. I shifted my head enough to see the outline of his big body in a recliner beside the bed. The size alone confirmed his identity.

  My heart shifted a little. Graham hardly ever left his attic office. He’d once been pretty well known and attracted unwanted attention when he bothered to step out in public. Maybe he felt safe in a hospital. It had been ten years, after all, and nurses had better things to do than follow ancient politics.

  I wanted to ask about Magda, but I didn’t want to wake him. I probably should sleep off this stuff messing with my head.

  That’s when I noticed a screen lighting on the stand. My cell, my lifeline to my family—had been stomped. So this must be the burner. I edged up to a sitting position. The stand was thoughtfully arranged on my right side. Graham was at my left. I couldn’t reach my wounded arm out to touch him, but I could reach the phone.

  Bless my siblings, but they included me in their group texting. Words were flying. Our news mavens, Sean and Patra, relayed news to Nick and Guy as it came over the wires, sparse as it was. It sounded like Ivan’s neighbors had reported a shoot-out at the OK Corral but no bodies were found. Graham’s men had done a pretty good clean-up job.

  I wondered where they’d taken Ivan and Bill, because I was pretty certain they’d been heavily damaged by Graham’s automatic.

  Scrolling through messages, I could see even Juliana touched base, asking what hospital I was in. I looked at the time. It was still before midnight here. I did a few mental calculations and eventually worked out that Tudor and Zander were probably just getting up from their distant beds. They should be checking in soon.

  If I couldn’t crawl into Graham’s lap, I’d settle for catching up with my siblings. And myself. The answer to Juliana’s question showed that I’d apparently been transported to the same hospital as Nadia was in. I’d have to scroll backward to find the reasoning for that.

  If everyone was safe, I wanted to know what had happened to Rose, his pigs, and Magda.

  Even though I found Magda’s name in the group text, I didn’t see any responses from her. As best as I could determine by scrolling back and forth, she’d turned herself in to the police once I was operated on and declared safe. A text from Nick said she and Moriarity were well lawyered up.

  Creating a public nuisance probably didn’t carry a long sentence, once the police realized Magda was too cracked to have done anything sensible like killing Scion. Pigs and balloons, yes, snipers, no. They’d work that one out eventually. Graham had it right when he called her a twisted genius—no matter what havoc she created, she never got caught.

  That Magda has actually turned herself into the authorities instead of fleeing into the night caused much consternation among the family, but there wasn’t anything anyone could do at this hour.

  I thought about letting them know I was okay, but the long stream of information just exhausted me. I had some serious thinking to do, and no one was expecting me to do anything until morning.

  No longer sleepy but needing the bathroom, I eased up from the right side of the bed. Graham was totally out of it. Fine protector he turned out to be. I smiled as I thought it, wanting to touch his hair but fearing I’d wake him. I didn’t want to imagine what kind of hell I’d put him through. My whole heart swelled just knowing he’d willingly rode to the rescue. I hadn’t even had to send a frantic call.

  That was part of my problem.

  I found a white hotel robe and slippers that weren’t mine in the bathroom. Did hospitals provide robes? Fancy, if so. I probably looked like a specter in all this white fluff, but I appreciated their availability. I really didn’t want to see my leopard coat again, but now that I’d remembered. . . I located the coat in the closet and fished for the papers I’d stolen: furniture receipts. Big whooping deal, but they had an address on them. I could have used them for escape, had Magda and Graham not roared to the rescue.

  I used the facilities, pocketed my phone, and feeling more awake, peered into the corridor.

  There was no one visible, so I walked down to the elevator to pay a visit. Earlier, they’d said Nadia might be waking. I didn’t want her to feel alone, if so.

  Nadia had bravely dumped a dangerous husband, hauled her kids across an ocean, and kept them safe while working for justice and to prevent others from harm. If I was understanding what Magda had done with Nadia’s information, Nadia had accomplished what I hadn’t—destroying Top Hat. She and the kids had nearly lost their lives in the process.

  I admired her courage but couldn’t decide if risking her life was the best choice. She probably hadn’t known she was in danger.

  Which reflected another of my problems—I knew information was dangerous. Acting on what I knew was even more so, as Magda and I had proven time and again.

  Graham remained safe by staying in his ivory tower. I’d done the same from my basement. I just didn’t know if I could hide like that anymore.

  Nadia’s room still had a guard stationed outside. He recognized me and nodded with respect when I gestured for entrance. I had done nothing to garner respect except go birthday shopping and get myself shot.

  To my immense relief and delight, Nadia was awake enough to be groggily cupping her phone in her hands as if it were a lifeline, even if she seemed to be praying over it more than seeing it. She opened one eye wide enough to note my entrance.

  “Guy said you might be awake,” I whispered, taking the chair at her bedside. I was feeling a little woozy again.

  She lifted her bandaged chin at all the tubes still hanging on her arms. “Not entirely,” she rasped with grim humor.

  “I’m Ana.”

  Instead of trying to talk, she flipped the phone to an image of me helping Anika paste the dinosaur, indicating she knew who I was. I hadn’t realized EG
had stolen my phone to snap that. Nadia’s half smile as she lovingly traced her youngest child’s face melted all my hardhearted cynicism, and I wanted to cry in relief that she’d be returned to those beautiful children.

  “You’ve been catching up on the news?” I asked, trying not to sink into sentiment. The drugs must have made me weepy.

  She flipped the photos back and showed me images of Anika and Viktor blowing out birthday candles. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I was glad the cake and presents had made it to them. Children needed to be sheltered with love and happiness and not touched by the ugliness of the outside world until they were strong enough to understand.

  “They are great kids,” I said. “Someday, they will be very proud of what you’ve done to make the world a better place.”

  That was the flip side of my problem. I wanted to say I’d made the world a better place. I just didn’t want to endanger anyone but myself while I was doing it.

  She grimaced and leaned groggily against her pillow. “Never again. I wish to see them grow old.”

  There it was, the answer I’d been seeking from her. “Smart lady,” I said.

  I could hear a commotion in the hall. I stood up and gestured at her closet. “Nick and Guy brought you clothes. Would you mind if I borrow some?”

  She looked startled but nodded. “I owe you my life.” After the feeding tubes, her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper, but I took that as a yes, even if I didn’t exactly agree with her.

  She was taller, but I yanked on her leggings and didn’t care if they bagged around my ankles. Sweaters were meant to be bulky and this one covered me to my knees. I needed time to myself. I wished for my furry boots but I hadn’t had the smarts to look for them when I’d escaped my room. Nadia’s Uggs were large but stayed on.

  Dragging on her coat, I peered around the door. There was a stir at the nurse’s station.

  I turned and waved to Nadia, gestured with a finger to my lips to stay silent, and let myself out, looking like a departing nurse and heading in the opposite direction of the activity.

  By the time the elevator had reached the bottom floor, I’d set up my Uber-app on the burner and called for a ride. I had no cash, but my credit card was in their files. My ID and credit card info were stored in my cloud account. With my phone in hand, I could go anywhere.

  Whoever had provided this little gem hadn’t realized how far it could take me. Or that I would want to go.

  Saying a silent regretful farewell, I gave the address of one of my hideaways to the driver.

  Chapter 25

  Fuming, Graham had the taxi take him straight to his front door. Waking up at midnight to discover Ana had escaped the damned hospital—while under his watch—had not improved his already turbulent mood.

  Before he left, he’d paid the Hummer owner for the damage, then abandoned his BMW bike in the garage and paid the taxi an exorbitant sum to take him home. If he wanted to stay alive long enough to murder Ana, he couldn’t be doing wheelies on ice. And poor Sam deserved his rest at this hour after helping clean up after him this evening.

  The feds had accepted Ivan and his minion with the understanding they’d receive a full report later. They would bandage them up and interrogate them more officially than Graham could. He doubted they’d be hacking any more computers anytime soon.

  Mallard could use his rest, too, but Ana’s siblings were all congregated in the horsehair parlor despite the early morning hour. Apparently they were comparing notes, while the old general turned butler was having the time of his life. That Mallard had actually allowed food and beverages past the sacred parlor door spoke of his fondness for this eclectic group of young people.

  They all looked up the instant Graham entered. As the eldest, Nick spoke first. “We thought you were guarding Ana!”

  Yeah, that’s what he’d thought too. He’d had some idiot idea that she’d wake up, see him, and feel safe enough to go back to sleep again. Try explaining that to her brother.

  “Ana had other ideas. She borrowed Nadia’s clothes and fled.” He didn’t have to explain that he’d fallen asleep on the job. He headed for the stairs.

  The group poured from the parlor and followed him.

  “For where?” the gentle one called Juliana asked in genuine perplexity. “She did not come here.”

  Graham had rather hoped she had, but he wouldn’t admit that either. “Where’s your mother?” he asked instead.

  “The cops let her go an hour ago. We have no idea.” That was Patra, the tall, dark-haired, buxom reporter. “Why would Ana go to Magda?”

  “If she had bothered telling me anything, I’d let you know. I’m going to bed.” He was furious, terrified, and not sleeping anytime soon, but he had to leave Ana’s family to do whatever they did, while he did the same.

  That was how he operated best—alone.

  “I’ll have Tudor crack Uber,” Nick was saying, scanning his phone. “He’ll be up by now.”

  Uber, of course. He’d stupidly given Ana her phone so she could keep up with her family.

  Juliana drifted toward him. “We have only just got Elizabeth to sleep,” she said softly. “She will wish to see Ana in the morning. Do you not wish to do the same?”

  Elizabeth—a royal name for Ana’s evil genius of a sister. He’d be delighted if he never saw the whole damned interfering oddball family again.

  Mallard studied him, wearing a long face, which hit Graham hard. The old man would never plead. He’d been his only friend these past years.

  Ana had become more than a friend. He’d thought she’d felt the same. Why the hell had she run away?

  That’s when Graham realized that what he felt was hurt. He hadn’t been hurt in a long, long time. He’d sealed himself off from emotion, lived in the land of logic, and survived.

  In these last months, Ana had reminded him of the roller coaster that life could be. Living included Ana in his bed and pummeling him in his gym. It meant enduring her taunts, hearing her wit, suffering her anger, and enjoying the challenges she flung at him daily. If living again meant Ana in his life, then he wanted Ana—even if it hurt, dammit. He was no coward.

  He summoned the rusty diplomacy he’d once wielded so carelessly. “I’ll find Ana. The rest of you get some rest. The media will be on our doorstep in the morning.”

  “I’ll handle the media,” Patra offered.

  “I’ll look after Elizabeth,” Juliana said.

  Nick and Sean began tapping into their phones, already sending out support lines. That was how family worked.

  And they’d apparently accepted him at his word—as one of the family.

  He didn’t even need to hack Uber. He had Ana’s account information. It was almost as if she wanted him to find her.

  Graham almost grinned at that realization. Ana would never underestimate him.

  I’d learned from Magda to keep bolt holes—a room, a storage unit, extra clothes, new identity, credit cards, whatever I needed to lie low for a few days. I hadn’t had much use for mine lately—money made a difference. But I picked up my Goodwill bag of duds in the storage locker downtown and traipsed over to a low-rent hotel where I paid a monthly fee.

  The room was a step above flophouse. I’d lived in worse. But the place was free of bugs, I had my own linens in my Goodwill bag, and a key not requiring a hotel clerk.

  My shoulder was starting to ache, and I’d probably be wishing for drugs by morning. So I knew I needed to straighten out my head before then. I couldn’t hide from my family for long.

  I couldn’t hide from Graham at all.

  I could, however, leave the country and abandon the whole lot of them to their dangerous games. I’d done it before. I knew how to do it again. The question became—did I want to? Ten years ago, it had made sense. Now. . .

  I lay back on the flat pillow and stared at the cracked ceiling. My shoulder throbbed. I could be dead right now. Where would EG be if I was dead? I didn’t want to leav
e her alone and devastated. I wanted to be alive.

  If I were alive and in China, would she be okay?

  I’d lived without family for ten years. I’d endured, was a better way to put it. These last six months of having my family around me had made me a better person, in my opinion. I was happy for the first time in memory.

  Which had a lot to do with my spy in the attic, which complicated everything. Graham wasn’t reckless like Magda, but he took chances. Look what he’d done last night—driven a stolen Hummer through a blizzard to crash down iron gates. Dangerous men hated him for good reason. Powerful men sought his aid. He did not live in a safe or sane world.

  Graham and I could never be a cozy family sitting by the fire, books in our laps, dogs at our feet. It just wasn’t happening. Even through my pain, I recognized that as truth. The question became. . . I wasn’t sure. I’d wanted to work this out before anyone found me, but answers eluded my muddled mind.

  I gave up and fell into a restless sleep.

  I woke up with light spilling through the torn window shade, knowing Graham was in the room again. The instant I stirred, a hand reached under my nose holding a pill.

  “Not Mylaudanix,” his deep baritone said.

  I gratefully took the medication and the glass of water he handed me. I wasn’t good with pain.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to open my eyes again, but, as mentioned, curiosity was my besetting sin. I looked up.

  Graham’s square, scarred face looked drawn and weary. He’d shoved back his overlong black hair, revealing the ugly jagged edges of the red scar that was the visible sign of the damage within. Graham had lost his entire world twice—at age ten, when his father had been killed. Again, with 9/11 taking his wife and destroying the brilliant career he’d had every reason to expect.

  I probably understood his damage better than any other person around him.

  “You care to explain?” he asked, looking around for a chair. Finding none, he settled gingerly at the end of the narrow mattress.