Sweet Seduction Sabotage

by Nicola Claire

  "So, let's get to the external door," I urged.

  "You won't find me arguing with that," Drew threw back, sounding as eager and thrilled at our impending escape as me.

  The more I walked, the more my body found a little more energy to keep going. Which didn't make any sense at all. But hope and anticipation are powerful fuels. My body was fuelled beautifully by both.

  We finally found the external exit, marked in big green letters announcing sanctuary on the outside. In red, it stated, "Use in emergencies only. An alarm will activate when this door is opened."

  My heart beat unmercifully, my breaths were elevated and just as excited Drew's. I looked at him, bit my lip and then together we reached for the bar across the door itself and pushed against it, expecting to feel the latch release and the door to move. Expecting to even hear an alarm go off somewhere, which at this stage we didn't really give two hoots about. We just wanted outside that damn door, outside this damn building. Anywhere but damn well here.

  What we heard was a rattle, chain on chain. What we felt was utter defeat. Both our gazes taking in the sight of a padlock we'd missed, tightly securing a chain about the handle, making it impossible to depress the bar enough to unlatch the door.

  "Motherfucker," Drew exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "Of course they'd bolt it from the inside."

  Of course they would. It ensured the AOS couldn't get in from the outside.

  I stared at the padlock that kept us from our escape. The building offered up a creak and groan in sympathy, the bang-bang-bang of something ominous ringing out from up above. Everything sounded louder, crisper, closer in the confines of the stairwell. The echoey vaulted open space rising up the entire height of the building, including the smaller add-on of the stories four through ten.

  I couldn't accept this level of defeat. I couldn't take the containment any longer. I wanted to bolt, but to where? I wanted to run the length of the stairs shouting my anger at the top of my lungs. I wanted to face the fucking arseholes that had trapped us here and shot those guards, locked us in that room, and made this building quake in fear.

  But my body refused to move one step in any direction. In fact, it refused to stand upright anymore.

  Drew sucked in a surprised breath when my legs gave way, his reflexes quick, but not enough to prevent us both from ending up on the floor.

  "Kels," he said with some measure of alarm, wrapping his arm around me, holding me close.

  We couldn't stay here, it was too exposed, no nearby air duct to crawl in. But I was guessing, as I couldn't feel my limbs any more and my vision was getting a little dim, that we couldn't move on either.

  "Drew?" I called softly, too soft I think I hadn't used my voice at all.

  "It's OK, sternchen," I heard him whisper back. "I've got you." And then, nothing at all.

  Chapter 22

  Whereabouts Are You?

  I woke to a numb butt and water being dribbled over my lips. I spluttered a little, then swallowed, feeling the blissful sensation of liquid smoothing down my throat. I took three more deep guzzles before I opened my eyes and blinked at the light in the stairwell.

  We hadn't moved from beside the exit. Drew had us sitting on the floor, his arm wrapped around my back as my head rested on his shoulder.

  "Better?" he asked. It seemed a familiar question. I nodded. "You scared me," he admitted.

  "How long was out for?" My voice was weak.

  "Not long. I thought I'd try the water first, and as soon as it hit your lips, you woke up."

  "What would you have tried second?"

  He smiled that lopsided smile. "A kiss?" He said it like a question. I think he was joking. Nothing felt kiss worthy about this.

  "We need to move," I murmured, pushing myself up to a sitting position, inordinately pleased to be able to hold myself upright, even if I was still sitting on a hard, butt numbing floor. Which made Drew's 'not long' statement questionable. I checked my watch. Nearly nine at night. It would be dark outside.

  "You need to eat," Drew argued, pushing a protein bar into my hand. "You look pale and worn out. This'll give you some energy. Then we'll think about moving."

  He was right. Moving now felt like an impossibility. I just hoped the protein bar did what it advertised on its wrapper: Full of healthy nutrients to get you up and going.

  I needed to up and go.

  I bit into the bar and chewed automatically. Following that up with a swig from the water bottle. After I'd eaten two more mouthfuls, Drew bit into his. We ate silently, listening to the building protest, and the odd sound from high up indicating we were definitely not alone.

  I kept glancing at the padlocked emergency door, our blocked exit to the outside world. On the other side were the Police. Gen and Sweet Seduction. Safety, but not truly a sanctuary. Because how could it be a haven if we had to face Gen without Dom? That would be too cruel.

  I rested my face in my free hand and sighed. How much longer could we go before being discovered? How much longer did this building have?

  Drew rubbed my back as I leant forward. An absent motion of comfort that seemed to come so naturally to him. It felt right, despite the reason why he had to give it. I sucked in a deep breath and settled back into his one arm embrace.

  "Tell me about your Oma," I whispered.

  "My Oma?"

  "Yeah, take my mind off all of this while I catch my breath." And regain some internal strength.

  "Well," Drew said thoughtfully. "She was, of course, German. So was Opa. Both having escaped post war Berlin."

  Wow. I turned my head to look at him, my eyebrows raised in surprise. He shrugged.

  "They weren't Jewish. But they had many Jewish friends. Some of which they helped."

  Sympathisers. What fear they must have lived with. Is that why Drew never gave up? Because they obviously hadn't.

  "She's the reason why I became a lawyer. She believed it everyone's responsibility to aid those who needed it when they could. She had a very large heart." He smiled fondly, his eyes misting with memories from the past.

  "Why didn't they stay in Germany?"

  He shifted into a more comfortable position, pulling me closer, but moving so he could look in my face rather than side by side. It wasn't exactly comfortable on the cold steps, I missed our pile of dust coated coats. But it was comforting being with Drew.

  "Germany was a broken nation when the war ended. And for Berlin, it was no more obvious than when the city was divided, families cut off from one another in the blink of an eye. My grandparents were in western occupied Berlin, in the French sector to be precise. That encompassed the very top of the western side. Around Frohnau and Hermsdorf, what became known as Reinickendorf. My grandfather refused to talk about it. He never mentioned the war at all. But my Oma, she insisted we all needed to learn from it. Specifically from the overwhelming shame those like my grandparents felt." He paused, then, "'Nie vergessen, sternchen.' Never forget, little star. Never forget."

  He sucked in a breath and I moved closer, worming my way flat against the side of his chest.

  "She used to read from the newspaper to us, always trying to improve her English. My Opa barely spoke a word, but Oma," he smiled again, "she was a master linguist. Determined to sound like a Kiwi before she died."

  "Did she?" I gathered she and his Opa were both dead, he spoke about them in the past tense.

  "Yes," Drew said proudly. "An adopted Kiwi, but a Kiwi through and through. It was Oma that insisted they change the spelling of their surname from k-l-e-i-n to k-l-i-n-e. Grandfather resisted, but Oma only pointed out, 'Alles ist seinen Preis wert.' All things are worth their price. I think there were two reasons why she wanted to change the German spelling of their name. One was because she embraced her Kiwi life completely. The other was shame. A price paid for the guilt of what had happened. Guilt for something she had no control over at all. But she could control who they became. So, my very proud and somewhat defeated grandfather agreed, and our family beca
me Kline."

  He squeezed the arm wrapped around my back, tucking me closer still.

  "Anyway," he continued. "She'd read from the daily paper, pointing out things she believed even as young children we should be made aware of. The end of Apartheid. The Arduous March and consequent famine in North Korea. The Los Angeles riots after the Rodney King verdict. The Rwandan genocide. Anything of international humanitarian import. She was determined to make us have an understanding of others' plights."

  "She sounded pretty awesome," I offered, realising I'd finished off my protein bar and half of the water in the bottle. Drew handed me the apple.

  "She was a very great lady, and I was so proud to tell her I was becoming a lawyer before she died." He chuckled, it sounded self-deprecating. "Do you know what she said?"

  I shook my head, not wanting to open my mouth to reply as I was attempting to chew the apple as quietly as I could right then.

  "She said, 'Anfangen ist leicht, beharren eine Kunst.' She may have loved to sound like a Kiwi, but you know how it goes, you can take the German out of Germany, but you can't take Germany out of the German."

  "What does it mean?"

  "Hmm? Oh, yeah. It means, to begin is easy, to persist is art."

  "I like it." Because I did. It summed Drew up in one simple German proverb.

  "Yeah, well, she was right. I had such high hopes of becoming a humanitarian lawyer and look where I ended up."

  "There's nothing wrong with family law," I pointed out.

  He smiled down at me. "No, there's not. And once I met Dom and Finn, I knew I couldn't go it alone in any other area of law."

  His face slowly fell. Mention of Dom making him realise where we were and why. Where Dom was, and what that meant for Gen.

  "Fuck it," he muttered, closing his eyes and thumping his head back softly against the wall. "Who the fuck are these people?"

  I had no idea, but I sure as hell would've liked a moment alone with their 'boss' and my hammer. Preferably with their boss tied to a chair and unarmed. And what did that say about my humanitarian outlook? Not as innocent as Oma's, that's for sure.

  We sat in silence for several minutes, then Drew sucked in a deep breath.

  "Did you really mean it when you said we should try to find Dom?"

  My whole body stilled at his words.

  "What are you saying?"

  He shifted where he sat, obviously uncomfortable about what he was about to say.

  "They hid people under their floorboards in the kitchen."

  What?

  "There'd be unannounced searches of all the houses in each street."

  Oh, dear God. I closed my eyes at the imagery that evoked.

  "The only notice they'd get would either be a few minutes provided by coded messages from further down the street, if the other sympathisers felt it safe to do so, or more likely, the banging of a Nazi's gun butt on the front door."

  I held my breath, because he wasn't finished and I knew it.

  "They couldn't trust anyone, even those they knew were harbouring Jews. Because what wouldn't you do to save your daughter or your son's lives? Give up the neighbour, that's what. Yet they still did it. Hid their Jewish friends. My stubborn, proud, unmovable Opa and my beautiful, noble, determined Oma. They hid refugees under their floorboards and stared in the eyes of the soldiers and lied. Knowing they could be found out at any moment by a so-called friend. An ally. Knowing that their barely started adult lives could be cut down alongside the Jews."

  Bloody hell.

  "I wanted to make her proud," Drew murmured.

  "I'm sure she would be if she were here today," I offered. He shook his head.

  "If she were here today," Drew said, a distant look in his soft grey eyes, "she'd smile, pat my shoulder and say, 'Außerordentliche Übel erfordern außerordentliche Mittel.'"

  "What does it mean?" I asked, quietly.

  "Exceptional evils require exceptional cures."

  Well, that certainly hit the nail on the head. Old Oma certainly knew her stuff.

  "A very clever lady," I whispered.

  "She would have approved of you."

  I did raise my eyebrows at that. "How so?"

  "You don't give up either. You're loyal to a fault. Your heart is as big as your beauty. Maybe bigger, I'm still finding out. And you would have gone after Dom, not for yourself, not even, really, for him. But for Genevieve, for the baby. And because it was right."

  He turned further towards me, lifted both hands up and cupped my cheeks.

  "I've never had something so precious that I would lay down my life to keep safe. Not even with the upbringing I received and the careful tutelage of my Oma. She would have done whatever was necessary to make sure Dom got out of this alive. Hell, she'd probably risk everything for every single innocent in this building, but I thought my Oma was just different like that. A singularity in amongst the masses. And then there's you. A bright, dazzling star, prepared to do the same.

  "I didn't deserve her nickname for me," he added, "but there is no doubt in my mind that you, Kelly Quayle, do. Mein Sternchen. My little star."

  "Oh, baby," I whispered, reaching up and placing my hands over his on my cheeks.

  I couldn't get the words out fast enough, Drew was talking again.

  "So, I'd like to prove worthy of my Oma and I'd like to ask something of you."

  Oh, here we go. He was going to insist I stay out of danger, that he do this alone.

  I opened my mouth, but Drew kept talking.

  "We go take a look. But you let me lead, you let me go in front, and you take charge of the rear, watch my flank, be ready to run. And let me be the one who answers the door to the Nazis."

  I wanted to protest about the 'be ready to run' part, but I was too relieved that he included me in the 'we' part of 'going to take a look.' He wasn't going to hide me in an air duct out of sight. He wasn't going to insist I stay down here by the only exit, even if it's an exit we can't get out of. He wasn't going to refuse I accompany him. He just wanted to go first.

  I may have liked to lead on more than one occasion in the past, but I also knew my limitations. Minutes ago I'd not been able to stand. I felt better now, than I had in quite some time, but I wasn't foolish enough to believe I was fighting fit. And with armed terrorists upstairs I needed to be fighting fit. So while I gathered my strength I'd let Drew lead.

  But that didn't mean I wouldn't use my freaking hammer if I recovered in time to save his sexy butt.

  "OK," I whispered back, receiving a relieved and jubilant lopsided smile from Drew.

  "I am so going to make this up to you, sweetheart."

  "Yeah? And what will that involve?" I asked, as he helped me to my feet.

  No dizziness, things were looking up.

  "Maybe a little red," he whispered wickedly. "Maybe just a bit of pink. But it sure is hell will involve that new bed of yours and me reacquainting myself with every inch of your gorgeous skin."

  I sniggered softly. Images of Drew making love to me, not just fucking me, in my bed streaming through my mind.

  "You better believe it," I muttered to his back as we started ascending the stairs. He chuckled, but then we both fell silent, as the enormity of what lay ahead stretched out above.

  Ten stories, God alone knew which one Dom would be on. And then how the hell did we get him out?

  I trudged on, or rather tip-toed on, behind Drew. One flight of stairs after another. Occasionally we'd stop to listen to the sounds around us. The building still creaked, evidence of its structural weaknesses obvious in the thick cracks that marred the white walls of the stairwell. The odd indistinct and muffled noise from up above. It could have people talking, or just water in pipes gurgling, we just couldn't tell.

  Every now and then we'd come across another air duct cover. Like the one we escaped through, the slats were adjustable, allowing cool air out or blocking it off. I decided they must have just been maintenance access to the system of ducts themselves,
because who would air condition the stairwell, unless of course this was the outlet for the stale air, which kind of made sense as well.

  All these useless thoughts rolled through my mind when I should have been thinking up a plan of attack. But I'm no soldier, no special forces police unit member and not even a trained bodyguard like Ben. I wondered what Ben and Abi were doing. I wondered if they were helping the Police, trying to find a way inside. Nick's firm often worked with the cops, but also often worked outside of the rules as well.

  Where the cops would wait to enter, ASI would do what they needed to get inside. A bit like Oma. I think she would have approved of them as well.

  With nothing else to do but suck in air as we climbed the stairs up to God knows what, I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket, intending to flick through old messages; one last chance to see my friends' words before entering the inner circles of hell. It took ten steps, one turn of a flight of stairs, for me to comprehend what I was seeing.

  Drew had instructed me to switch my phone to silent when the siege began. An instinct to preserve our hiding spot, to keep us safe. Before he realised we'd had no coverage in the cloakroom itself. When I'd done that, my screen had been bare. Just the normal wallpaper and applications, nothing else.

  Now, in a large vibrantly yellow bubble stood a figure. 23. I'd had twenty-three missed calls.

  I stopped on the step I currently was on and stared at the thing, not quite connecting the dots fast enough. How did I have a message on my screen? How did I miss it before?

  "Kels?" Drew whispered from several steps higher. "What is it?"

  "My phone," I whispered back as he took the stairs two at a time to reach my side. "I've got missed calls."

  Maybe I wasn't as recovered as I thought, because Drew got it straight away. Pulling his own cellphone from his pocket and checking his screen.

  "Thirty-two," Drew whispered, glaring at the screen as though it had offended him somehow. "We got coverage at some stage." His thumb was swiping across the surface of the device like a demented game boy shooting at pixelated bad guys. "One from Dom," he added, and the world stopped in its track.