by Rob Cornell
* * *
While Lockman had long ago memorized the address to the safe house, he had no idea how to get there. He stopped at a gas station inside the city’s limits and bought a street map, then spent a moment in the car with the air conditioning blasting while he figured out his route. A few moments in the afternoon sun had roasted him to the bones. Sweat pooled on his upper lip by the time he got from the gas station’s door to his car door.
He also came back to discover Jessie had changed the radio station to classical. He almost commented, but didn’t want to risk stoking her teenage ire. Nothing wrong with classical.
Route mapped, he started the car and pulled out of the gas station.
Jessie shifted in her seat as if uncomfortable. Lockman could tell she wanted to say something.
Did he dare ask? He kept his mouth shut.
She crossed and uncrossed her arms. Sighed. Tapped her feet. Drummed her fingers on her knees.
“Fine,” Lockman said. If she kept fidgeting like that the friction might set her on fire. “What’s eating you?”
She lifted her chin. “Nothing.”
“You’ve got something to say. Just say it, okay?”
“What happens when we get to this place?”
So she was nervous. Reality finally setting in maybe? “Well, my people will be contacted. Agents will probably be dispatched to Vegas. They will need to debrief both of us.”
“They’re going to interrogate me?”
“They will ask a lot of questions and expect you to answer without giving them trouble.”
“Am I going to get in trouble?”
“Kate doesn’t know you’re out here, does she?”
Jessie shook her head.
“You came all the way from Michigan by yourself? How did you even afford the plane ticket?”
“I run my own business. I make movies and post them online.”
Lockman’s gut did a twist while the hairs on his arms stood at attention. “You what? You’re thirteen.”
“So what? I’m too young to run a business?”
“Too young for that kind of business. How in hell does Kate not know what you’re doing?”
“She knows all about it.”
He almost had to stop the car. His eyeballs throbbed in his skull. The air conditioner at full blast didn’t touch the heat rising inside of him.
“You look like your head’s about to explode. What’s your deal?”
He sputtered and fumbled for words. The very idea of this little girl—his daughter—posting movies of herself online made him want to hunt down every pervert who downloaded one of those movies and rip their testicles through their nostrils.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
She gave him a furled-brow look that clearly said she thought he was crazy. Then a light came in her eyes and she smiled. “Oh, you think...” She broke into laughter so hard it sounded like she might choke.
“How is child pornography a laughing matter?”
Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. Her face turned a purplish red from all the laughing. She put a hand on her chest and took a deep, exaggerated breath. “I guess I should be flattered you’re so interested in protecting my dignity.”
“There is something seriously wrong with you. Not all teenagers can be this weird.”
“You’re right. I’m weird. Everyone says so.” Her laughter sputtered out like a stamped fire. “I’m the class freak.”
“That’s not how I meant it.”
“Doesn’t matter. I like who I am and have no desire to be anyone else but me.”
They had strayed a bit from the obscene topic and Lockman was tempted to let it go. But he couldn’t let something like that go. “It’s good you have high self-esteem. But that’s no excuse to...make videos.”
“It’s not porn.”
“Okay. Even if you’re not having sex in them, it’s still not right.”
“No. Listen up, Mr. Clean. I’m not even in most of the films. I write and direct them. They’re short films. Stories. No nudity, but occasionally some violence and fake blood.”
Lockman felt his face flush. “Oh.”
She laughed again, not as hard. “Yeah. What kind of sicko do you think I am?”
“The way you said it. You made it sound like...never mind.”
“I see why Mom liked you.”
He hadn’t expected a comment like that. He tensed, afraid to ask the obvious question, but unable to hold back. “Why’s that?”
“You’re all uptight like she is.”
“Kate’s not uptight.”
“You’re right. More like totally anal to the nth degree.”
Lockman shook his head. “Kate was free spirited. Sometimes she didn’t know when to rein it in.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. This is the woman who ran the naked mile in Ann Arbor every year. This is the girl who stole a rare orchid out of a neighbor’s yard to wear as a corsage to her prom. The painter. The poet. The part-time Wiccan who said she had cast a love spell on me the night after we first met.”
Jessie stared at him with her mouth open. She scrunched up her face. “My mom ran the naked mile?”
“Every year.”
“Bull.”
“Doesn’t she still?”
“Oh, hell no. Woman dresses like a nun’s conscience.”
“Does she still write and paint?”
“There is no way she ever did anything creative like that. She works on spreadsheets crunching numbers for some company that makes widgets or some crap.”
For a second Lockman thought this whole thing was a mistake. This wasn’t his daughter. They were talking about two different Kates. But Jessie had known his name. No. They were talking about the same Kate. The girl had a skewed vision of her mother was all.
“I think you’d be surprised by how free spirited your mom really is.”
“I think you’d be surprised how crazy that sounds.”
They didn’t have time to argue over whose view was right. They had arrived.
Lockman pulled to the curb in front of a small white chapel. A sign out front declared it Las Vegas’s premiere chapel for true lovers. Apparently all the other chapels in Vegas catered to fake lovers. Not that the city hadn’t earned that reputation for its local chapels.
Jessie peered out her window. “I don’t think it’s legal even in Vegas for thirteen year-olds to marry their fathers.”
“Funny.” He surveyed the sidewalk in front of the chapel, then the street, looking for any sign of something off. In the distance he could see a tower with a roller coaster at its peak. Locally, he spotted three other chapels all proclaiming they had Elvis. Cars lined the street on both sides, parked at meters. A number of cabs made up the bulk of traffic along the strip. No peculiar vehicles parked nearby. No black clad figures lurking in the shadows, not that there were many shadows to hide in. Even through the tinted car windows, the sun’s glare looked brutal.
“Okay, let’s go. Stay close.”
“Paranoid much?”
He ignored her and got out of the car. She was out and waiting for him when he rounded the car and reached the sidewalk. He hovered a hand inches from the center of her back, ready to pull her down if he needed to.
Jessie noticed and stepped away from him. “Quit crowding.”
“Could you stop being so pointlessly difficult for a minute?”
“You really know how to sweet talk a girl. Mom never stood a chance.”
He threw up a hand in surrender. “Do what you want. I’m done going out of my way to protect you.”
“Yeah, like how you protected me by leaving me in the desert.”
He turned his back to her and strode into the chapel. The air conditioning hit him with a chill that reminded him of how hot it really was outside. He waited a second by the door, expecting Jessie to join him shortly. She didn’t.
Fine. She could stand out in the sun if that’s what she wanted.
The chapel entrance led to a foyer about the size of walk-in closet. A framed photo of a black Jesus hung on the wall, his pious eyes seeming to judge Lockman.
He stepped through the foyer into a larger receiving area. A glass display case along one wall featured a variety of headpieces—everything from the traditional veil to an ornate, golden crown, to what looked like some alien contraption meant to microwave a human’s brain. What could be more fun that a theme wedding?
With an almost painful suddenness, he found himself back at the night he’d asked Kate to marry him. They had playfully thrown back and forth ideas for their wedding. She became obsessed with having a Star Wars wedding where she would dress like Princess Leia and he as Han Solo.
But who’s going to be the wookie? She’d asked.
I think your mother would be perfect, he’d said and got a soft punch in the arm for it.
“May I help you?”
Lockman looked up from the display case to a woman in a pinstriped pantsuit that probably cost more than Lockman’s entire wardrobe. Especially considering he now wore his entire wardrobe since he had to leave all his things behind.
“I’m looking for Schmitt.”
One of her eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry, who?”
“Schmitt.” Whether there was such a person, Lockman doubted. This was the code, though, to alert the contact to his association with the Agency.
Only she continued to stare at him as if he had asked her to lick the bottom of his boot. “There is no one by that name here.”
Possible she worked the legitimate side of the chapel’s business without knowing it was a cover. “Is the manager or owner around?”
“Yes. I’m she.”
“Oh.”
“There are a lot of chapels in Vegas. It’s easy to get confused. But I’m sure whatever Mr. Schmitt is offering, we can meet or exceed your expectations. Is the bride close by?”
“I...uh...”
The door banged open and a second later Jessie rushed in from the foyer. Her chest heaved. “I think they’re here. They found us.”
Chapter Eleven
Kate turned on a cheesy soap opera in the spare bedroom and cranked the treadmill up to a comfortable jog. Some sweat and melodrama might take her mind off of how incredibly powerless she felt. But less than a half-mile into the run she lost track of who was pregnant with whose baby and who had returned from the dead. Her mind kept falling back to him.
She couldn’t even get herself to think his name.
That’s ridiculous. Why fight it?
She swiped some sweat off of her forehead and adjusted the incline on the treadmill. The burn in her calves started almost immediately.
God, she hated running. But it was the only kind of exercise she could find time for, and part of doing it had to do with the self-torture. Her own private punishment for all the mistakes she’d made along the way.
She said she was going to meet her real father.
Real? As if she had a fake one. Kate had never fooled herself into thinking Alec would fill that void for Jessie. All she had ever asked was that Jessie accept Kate’s own need for companionship. Something she hadn’t even realized she was missing until she bumped into Alec at the grocery store.
Kate dialed up the speed a notch.
The burn moved up her calves into her thighs and buttocks. Her breathing inched toward ragged.
How could Jessie have found out where to find him? How far away was she? How had she gotten there? The questions opened up possibilities that turned Kate’s stomach just thinking about. Hitchhiking? Some seedy bus station? Some older friend with a driver’s license Kate didn’t know about?
After four miles, Kate gave up and abandoned the treadmill and soaps. She got in the shower, let the spray caresses her scalp, and remembered his strong fingers running through her hair, how he could work those fingers over the top of her head and get a near orgasmic reaction from her. He knew exactly how to touch her, no matter where he put his hands.
She stepped out of the shower spray, her naked back pressed against the cold tiles. Jesus, what was she doing thinking about him like that?
Out of the warm water she began to shiver and her skin turned to gooseflesh. She quickly rinsed and got out of the shower. She had just finished toweling off when Alec knocked and peeked in.
Kate wrapped her towel around her. “Hey.”
He studied her face a moment. “You all right?”
She tucked a corner of her towel in to keep it around her, then took up her brush and ran it through her hair. “Worried about Jess is all.”
“She’ll probably be back in time for dinner.”
Instead of looking at him, she watched herself in the mirror while she brushed her hair. She hadn’t told him about her visit to Ryan’s house. Alec didn’t know much about Jessie’s father and Kate preferred to keep it that way. Telling Alec what Jessie was up to would make it hard not to breach the subject. “I’m sure you’re right.”
He came close to her, put his hands on her shoulders and massaged.
She set down her brush and closed her eyes, trying to enjoy the contact. It felt good.
But nothing like the way he could touch me.
Kate tried to squelch the thought, but it had already tainted her mind like an oil slick on water.
Alec stopped massaging. “What?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You went tense. Did I hurt you?”
A deep breath and a conscious effort to loosen her muscles in her neck and shoulders. Somehow she managed. She turned to face Alec, kissed him gently on the lips. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Who said anything about being without me?”
“I’m just saying you’re really important to me. I love you.”
He smiled. He slid one of his hands down along her neck and then hooked his fingers into the towel along the tops of her breasts. “I love you, too.” He tugged just enough to make the towel drop away to the floor.
She leaned against him and kissed him hard, could feel him responding immediately. They wasted little time getting him undressed. He lifted her onto the bathroom counter and pushed himself inside of her.
Kate closed her eyes and concentrated on the growing warmth below. But in the darkness behind her eyelids she saw his face. And when she climaxed, it took every bit of her strength to keep from calling out his name.
Craig.
Chapter Twelve
The wall adjacent to the one with the display case had a window facing the street. Lockman moved to the window and peered through curtains as sheer as wedding veils. A black SUV, tinted windows, sat double parked a few cars down from their stolen Town Car.
“Did they see you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Probably. I was just standing out there when they pulled up. How could they have found us?”
Lockman ignored the question and turned to the woman in the pinstriped pantsuit.
She looked mildly puzzled, but not the least bit alarmed. This was Vegas. She had probably dealt with all sorts of odd couples. “I take it someone doesn’t approve of the relationship,” she said without a trace of judgment herself.
“You have a back way out of here?”
“Of course. Would you like me to stall for you?”
“It’s probably better if you leave too.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen your share of freaks, but the freak show about to come through your door will make everyone else look like amateurs.”
“Please. How bad can they be?”
“They’ll probably be armed.”
One eyebrow quirked up. “In that case...” She moved to a small, ornate desk in one corner, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a nickel-plated .45 almost as big as she was. She racked the slide. “I’ll be ready.”
“Only in Vegas.” Lockman grabbed Jessie by the arm and pulled her with him into the chapel proper, whic
h amounted to six rows of pews and a raised platform at the head of the room with a small podium. Not nearly as gaudy as one would expect, but this was probably the empty canvas upon which to paint the Vegas wedding only true lovers could appreciate.
The chapel owner followed them in and pointed to a door by the podium. “Through there is a small dressing room and a fire exit to the back lot. And don’t worry. Love defies age. I can tell you two were made for each other.”
Jessie made a gagging sound. “Gross.”
Lockman pulled her down the aisle. “You ever get married in a place like this, I’ll deny having any part in your creation.”
“Wouldn’t change much on my end, would it?”
He noticed the bitterness in her remark. More than her usual sarcasm. He stayed focused and led her out the back, both of them squinting in the blazing sunlight.
They stood in a small lot with space enough for three cars. Two of the spots were taken by a red Ferrari and a white cargo van.
“Are we really going to leave her to face them?” Jessie asked.
Lockman guided her to the cargo van and checked the driver’s side door. Unlocked. “She didn’t want to come.”
“She doesn’t know what’s gonna come through her door.”
“And I didn’t have time to convince her.” He climbed behind the van’s wheel and went to work hotwiring. “Get in.”
“You can’t just leave her.”
“Listen to me. I can only save so many lives in a single day. Right now my priority is reconnecting with my people and getting you safe.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection.”
He got the van started. The motor chugged reluctantly at best. “She’s fine. They’ll probably question her and move on. But we have to make sure we’re gone. Now.”
He no sooner said it when the man in the suit stepped out the back door. He looked no more threatening than a salesman. The oddest feature on him was the thick beard and dark eyebrows. The man spotted them at the van and stalked toward them.
