I murmured sympathetically and she went on, “I had left Logan with the nanny. English is not her first language, and she tends to be fearful of authorities. Jones disguised himself as a police officer and told the nanny he needed to take Logan downtown to answer more questions.” She made a helpless gesture. “You can imagine what our lives were like after Nick’s arrest. Questions after questions after questions. She suspected nothing.”
“So Jones had Logan,” I encouraged, only half-listening.
Just another mile. Maybe a police cruiser would catch me speeding and I could report the bomb…
“Yes, he had Logan, with the bomb in his backpack,” Eleanor confirmed bitterly. “With that leverage he revealed his true intentions, to involve me in your murder. Then he planned to take over your arms empire and blackmail me with threats to reveal my complicity. When I saw you yesterday at your office, I noted the license number of that black SUV you were driving. My private investigator traced it to the house where you were staying, so we knew where to find you this morning.”
She sighed. “Jones abandoned Logan in Silverside and forced me to act as a decoy to draw you out. I would have knocked on the door and pretended some emergency in the alley if you hadn’t come outside on your own. The rest you know.”
And their plan wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t been so caught up in my stupid commitment phobia.
Dammit, none of this had to happen. Kane and Hellhound could have easily dealt with both her and Jones if she’d knocked at the door. But no; I had to wander off down the alley like a fucking idiot, and now everybody I cared about might get blown to pieces.
All my fault.
I swallowed sickening guilt and slowed at the edge of town, heart hammering. Where were all the damn police? Never a goddamn radar trap handy when you need one.
“Take me to my car,” Eleanor demanded. “It’s in the next alley over from where yours was. Then we can both look for Logan.”
I nodded and didn’t add that the instant I was free of her damn glass dagger I’d break into Kane’s house and use his phone to report the bomb. Evacuate the parade route. If there were no crowds Logan would be easier to spot, and fewer people would be maimed or killed if the unthinkable happened…
I clenched my teeth and cornered hard, tires squealing.
A few moments later I skidded to halt in a shower of gravel next to Eleanor’s sleek silver Mercedes. She sprang from the passenger seat, but as she straightened a thunderous blast from the direction of downtown froze her in her tracks.
Cold horror paralyzed me, staring up at her bone-white face.
A chorus of sirens wailed.
“NO!” The scream ripped from Eleanor’s throat. Her face contorted with berserk rage. “This is all your fault!” She dove at me swinging the piece of broken glass like a sabre.
I shot her.
Chapter 47
Holding my breath, I lurched out of the car to stand a safe distance away from the aerosolized trank. Gasping and trembling, I stared at Eleanor Parr’s unconscious body sprawled in the car. The glass had cut her palm and a thread of bright blood trickled onto the driver’s seat cover, slow in the endless moment.
The sirens fell silent.
Deathly silent.
Oh, God.
Giving thanks for the brisk spring breeze and the open doors of the car, I lunged back toward it. Wasted precious moments stuffing Eleanor’s legs inside and yanking her roughly upright in the passenger seat. Slammed the passenger door and dashed for the driver’s side.
Peeling out of the alley, I negotiated the turns at breakneck speed, the tires squealing protest.
What was I going to do when I got there? I only knew basic first aid. Logan was almost certainly dead.
How many others with him? Oh God, could I face the massacre?
But I had to know.
Which of my friends had I lost?
The tiny downtown was clogged with vehicles double-parked on both sides of the street and people milling around. Abandoning the car and Eleanor, I sprang out and accosted the first person I reached.
Young, skinny, and bearded with facial piercings. I didn’t stop to consider the irony, just seized his shoulder and shouted, “Where was the explosion?” in his face.
He blinked stupidly at me. Shock.
I shook him. “Which way? Where was the explosion?”
His mouth dropped open, emitting a solid jolt of alcoholic breath but no voice. He pointed wordlessly toward a knot of people and I began to shove in that direction.
When I finally pushed to the front a chaotic scene confronted me. Screams rose on the air, and shrieking children dressed as clowns zipped everywhere on their bicycles.
After a paralyzed moment I realized the screaming came from the Sirius Dynamics float right in front of me. Tyler Brock was screeching at a microphone, backed by a quartet of skinny bearded-and-pierced young men belabouring guitars and drums. Just ahead of them, Tom sat on the driver’s seat of a wagonload of bales and children. Reins held loosely, he was leaning forward as if to murmur reassurance to his team. They shifted their giant hooves patiently, ears flicking. Farther up, I glimpsed colourful elongated balloons attached to a brown-paper-wrapped pickup truck.
No terror. No blood. No emergency vehicles or grim-faced first responders.
Just the usual disorder of a parade about to start.
Panting and confused, I scanned the crowd. Nobody seemed upset.
With a gasp of relief, I spotted Spider, Linda, and Germain standing with Jill at the edge of the crowd near Tom’s wagon. Shoving toward them, I spared a moment to wonder why the hell Germain would take a chance on exposing Spider and Linda to the uncontrolled environment of a parade. Thank God it didn’t matter anymore, but still…
A glance at Linda told the story. She clasped Spider’s hand in both of hers, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling while she bounced on her toes like an excited little girl.
Of course. Germain wouldn’t have been able to manufacture any excuse to prevent them from attending the parade.
That explained Jill’s presence, too. As I neared them, Germain bent to kiss her and murmur in her ear, but I recognized their hyper-vigilance as they scanned the crowd before parting again to subtly take up guard on either side of Spider and Linda.
I pushed through the last of the crowd, and four sets of eyes widened at the sight of me. “What’s wrong?” they demanded in unison.
“Was that a bomb earlier?” I barked.
“No, what-”
No. Thank God.
I interrupted before Jill could complete the sentence. “Spider, Linda, get inside a building now. Stay there.” Spider’s eyes widened and he hustled Linda away without hesitation. Germain began to follow, but I grabbed his sleeve. “It’s okay, they’re safe.” I snagged Jill’s jacket, too, and pulled them both close to mutter, “There’s a bomb. In a backpack. Seven-year-old boy, blond with blue eyes, jeans and a blue jacket, Spiderman backpack-”
“Aydan, thank God!” Kane’s voice interrupted me and I wheeled to see him punch a button on his cell phone as he hurried toward us. “She’s here at the start of the parade route by the Little Clowns…” he began before I interrupted.
“Bomb!” I hissed. “Seven-year-old-”
“There!” Jill’s arm swung out to point at a small boy staring up with fascination at Tom’s horses.
“He’s scared and he might run,” I panted as the four of us surged forward. “It’s in the Spiderman backpack.”
Germain was already on his phone and I caught the words ‘bomb squad’.
“Surround him,” Kane rapped out. “Get him out of here.”
As we swooped down, Logan’s eyes widened and he turned to run.
“Logan!” I yelled. “It’s okay, we’re…”
He shrieked as Kane leaped forward and seized him by the shoulder. Kane immediately went down on one knee, making calming gestures and trying to convince Logan to give up the backpack. The child shook
his head, crying and clinging stubbornly to it.
Jill was next to arrive, placing herself on the other side of the backpack and reaching out a soothing hand.
I tried to push forward, but Germain pulled me back. “You’ll only scare him worse,” he muttered. “You look like hell. What happened?”
“Long story,” I began, but fell silent as Jill managed to get Logan calmed enough to loosen his hold on the backpack. Kane seized the opportunity, snatching the pack away and turning to push for the edge of the crowd.
Logan set up a piercing wail and Jill shushed him fruitlessly, rubbing his shoulder and subtly preventing him from pursuing.
Kane was beside the wagonload of children when a small jubilant voice filled me with sick dismay.
“Soo-poo-man!” Jackson launched himself off the wagon directly at Kane.
And at the backpack.
It happened too fast. I could only stand frozen, my brain calculating trajectories at lightning speed and computing the inevitable collision.
Time slowed.
Kane spun, his eyes widening at the sight of the beaming child hurtling toward him. One muscular arm hugged the backpack to his chest. The other darted out, snatching Jackson out of the air by the waistband of his jeans.
The momentum swung him around, his arm swooping lower as though he’d put Jackson down, only to realize he was going too fast.
His arm jerked up again and Kane let go, shouting, “Germain!”
Jackson soared, squealing with delight, to be snagged in Germain’s sure grip. He carried the child back to the wagon and the arms of his mother, who was clutching Emily open-mouthed. She managed a faint nod of thanks, and Germain withdrew with a pleasant smile that belied the adrenaline that must have been pumping through his veins.
Hell, if it wasn’t, I was pumping enough for both of us.
Jackson was babbling, “I flew, Mommy, I flew like Soopooman! Did you see me, Mommy? Soopooman flew me!”
Tom cast a murderous glare at Kane from the wagon seat, but with the reins in his hands and the children in his wagon, he couldn’t do anything, thank God.
Oblivious to Tom’s rage, Kane resumed his slow progress toward the edge of the crowd, hugging the backpack. Every time someone jostled him he froze, turning this way and that to protect his dangerous burden. I wondered why he didn’t use his height advantage to hold it overhead, but then realized he was trying to minimize injuries to the crowd by blocking the potential explosion with his body.
Logan was still screaming despite Jill’s murmuring and shushing, and she jerked a ‘take-over-here’ gesture at Germain with her chin before hurrying after Kane. A moment later she slid in front of him and stepped backward, reaching behind her to lock her fingers in his belt loops and sandwich the backpack between them. Kane gripped her hip with his free hand and they wove slowly through the crowd, both wearing nonchalant smiles. Just a loving couple trying not to get separated in the bustle.
And if the bomb exploded it would rip them both in half.
Frozen, I stared, willing them safe with all my might. Another shriek from Logan jolted me into action and I trotted over, turning apologetically to the crowd to say, “Sorry, he’s just overtired.”
“That guy stole his backpack!” An indignant woman planted her hands on ample hips and glared.
“No, that was just his father,” I soothed. “He just-”
“That’s not my daddy!” Logan’s voice was far too audible.
“Divorced and remarried,” I offered with a sickly smile. “He’s having trouble getting used to-”
“You’re not my mommy! I want my mommy!” Logan was still in full cry and suspicious murmurs were beginning around us.
Germain wove toward us, making reassuring noises at the crowd. I knelt beside Logan and his wails grew louder.
“Hey, Logan,” I said over his cries. “Do you want to go to your mommy? She’s okay, the bad man’s gone and I brought her back.”
Germain’s face softened in relief. “Oh, good. I’ll get her and bring her here…” He trailed off at my headshake, looking worried again.
“Let’s go to her, okay, Logan?” I cajoled. “She’s just resting now, but…”
“Mommy said not to go with strangers.” Tears still puddled in his eyes, but his little chin was firm with determination. Logan wasn’t going anywhere without enough kicking and screaming to get us labelled kidnappers or worse.
I gave Germain a desperate glance, and he crouched down to Logan’s level. “Your mommy’s a smart lady,” he said. “And you’re a smart boy to do as she said. But she’s worried about you so we need to take you to her now. How about…” He leaned over to whisper in Logan’s ear.
Logan turned a wide-eyed gaze on him, forgotten tears still glistening on his cheeks. “Really?”
“Really,” Germain said gravely, but humour twinkled in his brown eyes. “So what do you say, Logan? It’s up to you.”
Logan took his hand without hesitation. “Let’s go to Mommy.”
Relief whooshed out of me. Thank God Germain had kids of his own. He must have used some magic inducement known only to dads.
As I rose to lead the way Hellhound shoved through the crowd, scanning anxiously until his gaze locked onto me. His brow creased in worry.
I was giving him my best reassuring smile when an explosion rocked the street.
It came from the direction Kane and Jill had gone.
A cacophony of sirens screamed.
Chapter 48
All my blood drained away, the aftershocks of the explosion ringing in my abused ears. Unable to move, I stood rooted to the spot as the crowd surged forward. Germain’s face was carved with deep lines, his eyes anguished.
Then Hellhound’s solid bulk was beside me. I clutched his hand, gazing up at him as if he could make everything better. “John took the bomb…” I quavered.
His face twisted as if in pain. Then his expression smoothed to a grim mask, but his hand was steady when he touched my cheek. “Ya can’t help him, darlin’,” he murmured in my ear. “Let’s get ya outta here.” The crowd jostled us, and he said, “Which way d’ya wanna go?”
I pointed mutely in the direction I’d come and he stepped in front of me. Before his threatening presence the crowd parted, flowing around us like lumpy water. Germain swung Logan up onto his shoulders and I hooked my hand in the back of Hellhound’s jeans, letting him tow me along.
The crowd thinned rapidly and by the time we approached the car only a few stragglers remained. Eleanor was still slumped in the passenger’s seat, but I couldn’t tell whether she was conscious. Her face was immobile and pale as death, and a terrible thought penetrated my fear for Kane and Jill.
What if she’d had a reaction to the trank and died?
“Mommy!” Logan shrieked.
She didn’t move.
“Shit-shit-shit!” I relinquished my grip on Hellhound and hurried forward as fast as my shaking legs would carry me, but Germain had swung Logan down from his shoulders and he rushed ahead of me.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
She twitched.
Vacant eyes turned toward us in a tear-streaked face.
“Mommy!” Logan catapulted into her lap, clinging and burrowing against her.
The white mask shattered and Eleanor’s eyes kindled with fierce joy. Arms crushing the squirming bundle in her lap, she buried her face in Logan’s tousled blond hair.
I turned away.
Empty.
Tottering back to Hellhound and Germain, I murmured, “I have to talk to her for a bit. Go check on J…” My throat closed.
“I’m stayin’ with ya,” Hellhound said flatly.
“I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything,” Germain promised, and hurried away.
Hellhound’s arms closed gently around me and I leaned into him, pressing my face into his chest and letting the steady beat of his heart block out everything else.
After a year or possibly a few minutes I realized
Hellhound was talking to me.
“Aydan. Come on, darlin’. Ya said ya needed to talk to her, an’ she’s askin’ for ya.” When I gazed up at him without comprehension, he added, “You can do this. Go on.”
I shook my head, trying to jar my brain back into motion. It responded sluggishly, the effort almost more than I could muster.
When I turned, Eleanor was beckoning from the passenger seat of the car. Logan was still in her lap, both arms wrapped around her while she rocked him.
Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and trudged over.
“You did it!” Her smile was radiant even under the dirt and tear tracks. “How…?”
I shook my head, too tired to explain.
She turned her smile down to Logan. “Logan, sweetheart, I need to talk to this lady for a few minutes. Will you please sit here in the car and be good?”
Logan pulled away far enough to look up with trembling lips. “That man took my backpack,” he sniffled. “I want my backpack.”
“We’ll get it, sweetheart, I promise.” Eleanor met my gaze over his head but I said nothing. Couldn’t speak.
“You just sit here for a few minutes,” Eleanor coaxed, prying her son loose. “Just a few minutes and then we’ll go home.”
After some more whimpering and sniffling, Logan obeyed.
Eleanor cast a nervous glance at Hellhound, towering like Mount Doom a few yards away. Then she inclined her head in the opposite direction and we walked several paces.
“What do you want?” she asked abruptly.
I stared dumbly at her.
“What do you want from me?” she repeated. “I know how you people work. What will this cost me?”
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 35
