“It’s the only way,” she said, her voice shakier than she wanted it to be.
“It can’t be,” he said. “I can keep these guys driving in circles indefinitely. Just give me a couple of minutes, and we’ll come up with a plan that isn’t suicidal.”
Sara let out a sigh. He was wasting time.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, but you know it’s the only way. If Malcolm’s man is back there then it’s only a matter of time before he figures out what we’re doing all the way out here, calls his boss, and we’ll lose our only opportunity to save my parents. If you have to keep driving like this it’s only a matter of time until the cops pull us over. If that happens, I will go to jail and Malcolm will go free. You know it’s true.”
“But—”
Sara shook her head. They were all out of options. There were simply no more buts, no matter how much Mason wanted there to be.
“This is my call, Mason,” she said. “You can’t go in and meet Malcolm without me, and I can’t keep these guys off our tail for the twenty minutes it’s going to take to get in and out of there. It’s as simple as that.”
Sara watched the cords on Mason’s neck stretch and relax over and over, as he made another series of quick turns.
“Fine,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “But I’m not giving you twenty minutes. You get ten, not a second more. I’ll be watching the clock, and the moment those ten minutes are up I’m storming the compound and I’ll be bringing every cop I can find in the goddamned county with me.”
Sure, whatever makes you feel better.
“You’ll need to drop me off several blocks away from Malcolm’s hideout,” she said.
“Give me a minute,” he said, squealing the tires as he clipped the corner on another turn. “I can buy you a couple of seconds once we get close, not much more.”
“That’s fine,” she said. She wouldn’t need much more than that to hide from a few passing cars.
Mason grumbled something about it being about the furthest thing from fine that he could imagine as he deftly maneuvered through traffic. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her the box with the Evening Star.
“Get ready,” he said.
Sara nodded, and inched closer to the door. She wrapped her fingers around the handle.
“And Sara,” he said, his eyes staying steady on the road.
“Yeah,” she said.
“You’re important to me too.”
Sara’s lips parted. Her lungs tried to suck in another breath, tried to fill with enough air to answer him, but the catch that had suddenly formed in her throat was just too big to let anything pass.
In the end she never had a chance to say a thing. Mason took a quick left, followed by a sharp right. A second later his voice filled the car.
“Now.”
Fortunately, her body knew what to do. Instinct took over, forcing her to react, throwing open the door and tumbling out just as he slowed.
She didn’t stand up but rolled across the worn sidewalk and into the thick unkempt weeds that had taken root on the edge of the empty lot. They gave her the cover she needed as the other cars took the same corner and sped by.
Sara didn’t stand up until she could no longer hear the roar of their engines.
Her knees shook a little when she finally did rise. She tried to tell herself it was just the adrenaline from the jump that was making her tremble, but that wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t the thought of what she was about to do.
It was Mason’s confession.
She was important to him.
Breathe.
Go do the impossible, and live to be important to each other.
Chapter Thirteen
Sara managed to make it over the chain link fence surrounding the abandoned strip mall and halfway across the empty parking lot before she heard the first gun cocking.
The single sound was quickly followed by several others. Too many to count. All of them centered around the empty storefront at the end of the building.
All the signage had long ago either been ripped down or blown off the fronts of all the units, but Sara could make out the weathered outline of the words First Bank of the Bay in faded paint above the entrance.
“I’m unarmed,” she said, raising her hands high above her head as she walked steadily toward what used to be the door. The glass had broken, probably long ago, and now it was nothing more than an empty frame. “I have what Malcolm asked for, and I’m here alone.”
That should cover most of what Malcolm and his goons were worried about, and all of it was true—well, technically anyway. She only hoped the declaration was enough to stop them from shooting her on sight.
Her confidence grew with every step they allowed her to take. She made it all the way to the door before a familiar voice stopped her.
“That’s far enough.”
Sara stopped just outside the building. She tried to peer inside the dark building but it was no use. There was just too much contrast between the bright sunlight where she was and the shadow-filled interior. The best she could do was make out a long line of vague figures.
One stepped forward, his height instantly giving him away.
Malcolm.
“What are you doing here, Miss Baumgartner,” he said, his voice just as low and frightening in person.
“I have the Evening Star,” she said.
“I know that,” he said. Of course, he did. He had men everywhere, watching everyone. From this point on, she should just assume he knew everything, and stick to the truth as closely as possible. “But that wasn’t what I asked. I want to know what you’re doing here.”
Sara drew in a steadying breath.
“I found out where you were keeping my parents.”
“Obviously.”
You can do this.
You have to.
“Short answer, both the Russians and the South Africans were getting close. I figured I needed to get this to you as soon as possible before they got their hands on it.”
A long beat of silence filled the air. Even though she was surrounded by the cold winter air, beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.
“And why should I believe you?” Malcolm asked.
“Because it’s true.” Well, as close to the truth as she was willing to get.
Malcolm didn’t seem all that impressed with her vague answer. He stood stock still, staring at her. True, Sara couldn’t make out his eyes through the shadows, but, damn, his gaze was as cold and unsettling as the dark water of the bay.
She was going to have to go a little deeper to give him a reason not to shoot her where she stood. Fine.
“And because you know it’s true. I know you’ve been watching both syndicates. You know they’ve made attempts on my life.”
“Unsuccessful attempts,” Malcolm added.
“Only because my partner was there to stop them.”
That got Malcolm’s attention. His head cocked slightly to the side.
“So, he’s your partner now?” he asked. “No longer merely a pain in the ass?”
Sara shrugged. “Having your life saved a couple of times has a way of softening a person’s opinion.”
Sara shuddered as Malcolm took another step closer.
“But he’s not here now,” he said, his voice dipping down. “Why’s that?”
She was willing to bet he already knew the answer. “Because he’s leading all the cars that followed us out of the city on a parade around this shit hole, buying me just enough time to get this to you.”
Sara put her palms out to show she was unarmed before slowly reaching inside her jacket and pulling out the box.
Malcolm moved suddenly, as though he was magnetically drawn to the necklace, coming close enough that Sara could finally make out his long, sharp features.
“Is that l’étoile?” he asked, avarice dripping from every word.
She nodded. “The Evening Star.” She opened the lid of the box just
far enough to let the sunlight dance on the cut jewels.
“Hand it over,” he demanded.
Sara shook her head. “Let me see my parents first.”
Malcolm’s chilly composure returned in a snap. He let out a long, low laugh. “It’s almost amusing, the way you continue to believe that you’re in a position to negotiate.”
A tremble crept into her hands. She fought the urge to let it take over.
She needed to get inside. The whole plan hinged on it. Every step needed to bring her closer to the vault where her parents were being held. If she didn’t get there, she was as good as dead, whether by Malcolm’s hand or the state’s, it didn’t really matter.
Malcolm’s power relies on your compliance. Without it, he’s got nothing. He may talk big, but at this point, he needs your goodwill a hell of a lot more than you need his.
Mason’s voice rung out in her head. It was time to put those words to the test.
“It might be because I’m the one holding the necklace,” she said.
“But I’m the one with the guns,” he countered.
“That you’re not going to use on me since you still need me to take the fall for both this theft and the Kelham debacle. So, how about you stop posturing, and lead me to my parents before I decide that I can cut a better deal with the FBI.”
There was just enough light for Sara to see Malcolm’s slim shoulders stiffen. She’d certainly hit a mark. Now, she could only pray it was the right one.
A long second ticked by, long enough for the lump in Sara’s throat to reappear. She was just thinking about backpedaling when Malcolm stepped away from the door.
“Gentlemen, you heard the lady,” he said, his voice dropping down even lower. “Please escort Miss Baumgartner to her parents.”
Sara resisted the urge to sigh in relief. She had what she wanted, but she couldn’t reach out and grab it. Not yet. She had to let him think he was the one in control, the one pulling a fast one on her. She had to resist, just a little. A very little.
“Or you could bring them to me,” she said.
Another laugh, another chill running up her spine.
“Out into the open, where anyone could see?” he asked. “After all the alterations you’ve made to our original agreement, you should count yourself lucky that I’m willing to indulge you in this at all, Miss Baumgartner.”
Sara made a show of worrying her lower lip with her teeth for just a moment.
“Fine,” she said, tucking the box close to her chest. “But I’m holding on to the necklace until I make sure my parents are okay.”
Malcolm’s toothy smile grew. “Of course.”
Sara didn’t have to pretend uncertainty as she took a hesitant step through the busted door frame. She was inside. There was no going back now.
Breathe.
At least, it wasn’t a long walk. Sara’s eyes barely had time to adjust to the lack of light before they came to the massive steel door on the back wall. Malcolm stepped up and worked the dial.
Sara didn’t realize that she was holding her breath until she let out a giant puff of air at the unmistakable sound of the bolts sliding free. Heat pricked at her eyes the moment the hinges creaked open and she could see her parents inside the steel cell of the vault.
Her mom and dad were sitting in the center of a worn and threadbare mattress tossed into the far corner. There wasn’t much else in the room, just a rickety card table and couple of dirty paper plates. Apparently, Malcolm hadn’t wanted to give them anything that might help them escape.
Her parents stood the moment they recognized her.
Sara rushed forward, suddenly not caring what happened next. She went to her mom first, throwing her arms wide, and wrapping them tight around her.
“Sara.” Her father didn’t wait his turn, coming up behind and sandwiching her between them.
Tears of pure relief rolled down Sara’s cheeks, combining with her mother’s. Her hands shook with a mix of emotion, her fingers trembling so hard that she almost lost her hold on the box.
Almost.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t lose control. Not now. Not when everything depended on her staying steady.
“What a touching scene,” Malcolm drawled.
And just like that Sara came back to herself with a snap. She found the strength to pull back from her mom and meet his glare with one of her own.
“Now give me the necklace,” he said.
“Give us a few more minutes,” Sara countered.
“I think not.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Sara said, straightening her spine.
Her mom cupped a hand over her shoulder, gently holding her back.
“Sara.” Her father’s voice was filled with warning.
Testing a man’s limits was one thing, taunting a madman was another, and right now, Sara wasn’t entirely sure which one she was doing. All she knew was that she hadn’t come this far to fail.
She shrugged off her mother’s touch.
“You want me to die for you, you son of a bitch,” she growled at him. “All I’m asking is to say goodbye to my parents.”
“So, say it.”
“I want five minutes alone,” she said.
“No.”
“Don’t push me. You still need me to confess to the police,” she shot back.
“Don’t push you?” Malcolm said, his voice dipping down dangerously low.
Sara hissed in a breath.
Crap.
Her skin went cold as the blood fled from her face. She’d gone too far. Way too far.
She knew it even before she watched Malcolm turn around and take a gun from the holster of one of the men standing next to him.
“I’m afraid that you’ve mistaken this whole arrangement of ours, Miss Baumgartner,” he said, turning and pointing the gun squarely at the center of her chest. “I never needed you for anything. You’re merely a convenience, and now you’ve worn out your usefulness.”
Sara threw her hands out.
“But you still need a fall guy for the Evening Star heist,” she tried.
“You’re right. I do,” he said. “But do you think that’s a problem? Do you believe that you’re somehow irreplaceable? That you’re the only misguided fool with loved ones running around in the world? People like you are as common as flies. I can find another patsy before lunch.”
“But…but…”
Crap. She was all out of buts.
“I’d say those goodbyes now, if I were you,” Malcolm said.
Sara was just about to turn to apologize to her parents for making such a terrible mess of things when a massive crash sounded outside the building—screeching tires, twisting metal, crashing glass.
Everyone turned. Over Malcolm’s shoulder, Sara could just make out the blurred forms of cars whizzing by in the abandoned parking lot.
Malcolm spun around to face her. “Is this your doing?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who figured out where you were.”
It was easy to shift the blame over to the Russians and South Africans. Easy and believable. At least, Malcolm seemed to be buying it. He let the muzzle of his gun drop away from her body.
“Well, it looks like you’re going to get your wish after all, Miss Baumgartner,” he said and turned to his men. “Lock them up tight in here. They can wait until after we’ve dealt with this minor disturbance.”
Sara managed to swallow back her sigh of relief, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders slumped as her panic subsided. She waited until the enormous steel door had clicked closed with a mighty echo before she turned back to her mom and dad.
“Okay, I need your help,” she said in a rush. “We don’t have much time before he finishes up out there and comes back for us.”
“Help?” her father said. “What are you even doing here, Sara?”
“What does it look like?” she said, flinging open the box in her hand and letting the Evening Star fal
l to the floor. She ripped out the false bottom next, exposing the C4 and detonators below. “I’m busting you out of here.”
“You shouldn’t have come.” Her mom grabbed her shoulders, clutching her tight. “You should have never agreed to anything that Malcolm demanded.”
“I didn’t have a choice, Mom,” she said, pulling a lock pick kit out of her pocket. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”
“So, you let him hurt you instead?” her mom asked, her forehead crinkling.
“Malcolm hasn’t hurt me, Mom,” Sara said. “He’s tried, but he hasn’t succeeded.” She tossed the kit over to her dad. “Start pulling out a couple of the smaller safety deposit boxes.”
Her dad’s eyes went wide with a mix of amazement and pride. “You’re planning on blowing the roof.”
Sara didn’t waste a second to nod. She grabbed the card table and started pulling it over to the only ceiling vent in the room. She only prayed that the rickety thing would support her weight. Not that she had much of a choice. It was the only thing in the room she could possibly stand on and get the height she needed. She pulled her tummy muscles in tight as she climbed up on top. As delicately as possible, she reached above her head and unscrewed the grate.
“This is the only weak spot in the whole strong box, but if I pack it with just enough explosives at the right place, then the explosion should tear a big enough hole in the steel for us to escape.”
“If it doesn’t rip through us first,” her father said.
Sara didn’t glare at him. She kept busy on her task, just like she could tell that he was sticking to his. Even now, she could hear him sliding the metal boxes from their homes.
“It won’t,” she said.
“How can you be so sure,” her mom said. “You’re a lock pick. Explosives have never been your specialty.”
“Because I had help,” Sara said.
The room went quiet for a quick beat.
“One of your uncles?” her mom asked.
Hardly.
“No,” she said. “A friend of mine.”
“A friend?” her mom pressed. “What kind of friend?”
Sara fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Just a guy I know.”
“A guy?” her mom asked. “Do we know this guy?”
Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 Page 16
