by Cherry Adair
He hesitated. “We’re in the process of doing a buyout of a small rival search engine company; the deal is being finalized next month,” he said slowly. “But the sale has been amicable, and Buck has that under control. I don’t know, Acadia. None of this makes sense. No matter how I look at it.”
She reached out to touch him, offering whatever comfort she could without words. He didn’t deserve it. Every passing second that left Gideon alone in the jungle with no backup was agony. Zak pressed his fist between his eyebrows for a second, his gut twisting as he noticed the small change in the numbers indicating Gideon’s movement. God, there was a possibility that his brother had escaped. He’d done it; so could Gideon.
But the kidnappers had been caught unawares when they’d escaped, and incapacitated by Acadia’s quick thinking and multipocketed clothing. Hell, half the reason they were still alive and walking around was her ingenuity. And pure luck.
Besides, Gid’s ribs might be broken, which meant he’d be slower. Zak hated feeling so inept. So freaking powerless.
He refused to consider the alternative. That Gid was already dead, and someone else was wearing his watch. “Once you eliminate the impossible,” he quoted bitterly, “whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”
“Not necessarily,” Acadia said very seriously. She stopped speaking as three teenagers on skateboards rode toward them. They stepped off the path to let them go by. “Technically,” she continued, shading her eyes against the bright sun, “anything is possible, therefore, nothing is impossible. Therefore, there is no impossible to eliminate. Therefore, anything can be true. Right?”
He crowded her against the back of a nearby bench. Then cupped her cheek, because he needed to touch her to feel grounded, if only for a moment. “Convoluted.” He stroked his thumb across her sun-warmed skin, and she leaned a little into his touch, but didn’t say anything.
Zak shook his head and stepped away from her. She was like a magnet and he a lodestone; he was so attracted to her that if she was in touching distance, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He really needed to start learning how.
He stuffed his hands into his front pockets and stared off into the middle distance.
He had to find a safe place to stash Acadia. Where? He wasn’t sure if the police and National Guard were after them because of the stolen police car or because they were on someone’s payroll. Either way, the officials had her photograph and identification; there was nowhere she could hide and no way he could get her out of the country. And he could forget about the money. Buck would have made sure there was no access.
The longer he took to find a safe haven where he wouldn’t have to worry about her, the longer it would take him to find Gideon. And the longer it took, the less chance of finding him—
His phone rang, and he snatched it out of his breast pocket. Buck. “Hey,” he said by way of greeting. His throat closed and acid roiled up in his stomach. He’d known this man for almost half his adult life. They’d gotten drunk together when Jen had died. And again when Buck’s teenage son had overdosed on drugs last year and almost hadn’t made it. They’d built a business from nothing, and taken rare family vacations together.
Other than Gideon, Anthony Buckner was the one person on this planet he had trusted the most.
Zak couldn’t even comprehend how it had come to this … or why.
“Buddy, my guys want to be wheels-up sooner than later. What’s the holdup?”
“I have to keep a low profile; the cops were looking for me at the airport,” Zak said, not quite lying. “I had to ditch the car, and I’m waiting to rent another one. Taking longer than I thought.”
Acadia tapped away at the keyboard of her phone as he talked.
“Screw the rental,” Buck said impatiently, then hesitated. After a moment, he said with more calm, “I’ll have one of my men come pick you up; it’ll be faster. Give me your location.”
Acadia turned her screen so Zak could see the list of car rental places she’d ZAG-searched. He chose one as far from the airport as he could find and rattled off the street address, shooting her a grateful smile.
“Okay, bud, hang tight. I’ll have someone there ASAP,” Buck assured him. “We’ll get Gideon, Zak. Whether it takes a duffel bag of cash or they go in guns blazing. We will retrieve Gideon.”
Sure you will. “Thanks, Buck. Appreciate your confidence.” He took the phone from his ear and heard Buck ask casually, “What happened to the woman?”
Without answering, Zak disconnected, then stood there for a moment, looking blankly across the pond, where the little boy waited patiently for his mother to build him another paper boat. Ducks swam lazily on the reflection of a hard blue sky.
Everything around him looked so normal, yet his entire world was upside-down.
He needed help. Pissed him off, but he needed help and he needed it now. He dialed again. “Who are you calling?” Acadia whispered, and he held up a hand for her to hang on as the line connected.
“Marc?” he said into the phone. Acadia’s expression cleared. “It’s Zak Stark. Here’s the deal.” Quickly, he told him the whole fucking story from beginning to end.
After a silent moment, Marc sighed. “Hell of a clusterfuck. Give me ten minutes, okay? I’ll call you back with the location of a safe house.”
The line went dead, and Zak pocketed his phone. Next to him, Acadia watched the surface of the pond, her eyebrows knotted tightly.
“Don’t look so worried,” Zak said, tracing a finger over her frown. “He’ll get us to a safe house and come up with a solid plan. Not as good as yours, but his weapons are bigger than a bottle of eyedrops.”
Granted, he didn’t know much about Savin aside from what he’d told Acadia already. He might very well have just made a bargain with a man who could kill him without leaving a trace of his body. But his gut didn’t agree.
“We’d better hope you weren’t confiding in the wrong guy,” Acadia muttered, once again reading his mind. “On the upside?” She tucked her arm in his as if they were a couple of dating kids on a Sunday afternoon stroll. “If he decides to kill us, he’ll know how to make it quick.” She shot him an impish glance.
It hit him like a rock between the eyes.
As if she heard the shifting of his heart, she swiveled on her toes to face him. She paused, as if wanting to say something, then shook her head and reached up to give him a swift, hard kiss on the mouth. She let go and took his hand, twining her fingers with his as they started walking back to the car. “Let’s go see what a safe house looks like.”
THE SAFE HOUSE LOOKED like a cheap hotel in a bad part of town. The sign read BATES HO L, featured a bullet hole in the middle of the O, and hung precariously by one rusted chain. Acadia gave it a skeptical look. “Are you sure this is it?” The building was squeezed in between other similar structures. They all desperately needed a coat of paint, and …
Who was she kidding? Paint wasn’t going to do anything for them. No, they all looked like they should be razed to the ground and rebuilt. The plaster and bricks were crumbled on all the facades. Shutters hung askew, and most of the buildings had metal bars covering windows and doors. Garbage, feral cats, and filthy, far too skinny, ragged children were everywhere.
“That’s the one,” he told her. He waited with his back to her as she slid across the driver’s seat to get out of the car. “Keep your eyes open, and step lively. Ready?”
“Ready not to feel as though I have a bull’s-eye on my back?” Acadia cast a nervous glance at the swarm of mini criminals edging closer to the car. She instinctively moved closer to Zak. “Damn strai—” She suddenly noticed he had a gun in his hand. “God, Zak, surely you wouldn’t shoot little children!”
“Move!”
As they ran across the street, the kids swarmed around them like locusts. They grabbed at her clothes and hung on her arms; one boy about eight slid down her leg and grabbed her around the top of her boots so that she had to
run with the child as an anchor. Despite the gun in Zak’s hand, three more kids were clinging to his duffel bag, dragging their heels on the pavement, to no avail.
The black door of the hotel was thrown open, and they spilled inside while an enormous bald man with a barrel chest and thick black mustache picked the kids off them like lice. The door shut with a surprisingly solid thump, and the man rapidly engaged several locks, then slapped his palm on a pad next to the door. When the tumblers clicked into place, he turned and gave them an assessing look.
“Don’t feel sorry for the little buggers, Miss Gray,” he said, with a faint Scottish burr. “They’d as soon slit your throat as look at you.” He held out a ham-size hand to Zak. “Campbell Garcia, call me Cam. Manager of this here Bates Hotel.” He grinned as he and Zak shook hands. “You doin’ all right, lass?”
“If this is the rabbit hole, sure.” She smiled when Cam gave her a broad white grin, then slapped her on the shoulder, almost toppling her. Zak grabbed her arm to keep her upright.
“Sorry about that, lassie. Just us boys here most of the time, I forget my strength around the ladies. Come through, I’ll take you up to a room. We have your extraction team assemblin’ as we speak. You’ll be moving out in under an hour.”
The vestibule was small, and paneled in a blond wood that was worn and peeling. The dirty black-and-white tile floor was dotted with cracked and uneven squares; a small reception area was tucked under the uncarpeted stairs.
“Had some food taken up, nothin’ fancy, but you’ll need something in your stomach, now won’t you? This way.” Cam started up the stairs, his footfalls so loud on the bare wood, Acadia was surprised they didn’t splinter.
She met Zak’s glance and made a what-the-hell face. He smiled, and she got a quick glimpse of his dimple. She much preferred seeing Zak with this expression than with the one of desolate betrayal he’d worn in the park.
The uncarpeted hallway, like the stairs, was scarred and battered wood. Acadia happily noted that the higher they climbed, the cleaner the hotel became. “First floor,” Cam told them, rounding a landing with a row of six closed doors marching down the long corridor. “Should we ever be compelled to take in a real guest.” He looked over his massive shoulder and winked at Acadia. “Which we rarely do. Only one more flight. You’ll have a bit of time to wash up, eat somethin’, and say your good-byes. I promise,” he told Zak, barely taking a breath. “I’ll keep your lady safe until ye get back. With your brother, is it?”
Their boots sounded extraordinarily loud clomping down the corridor. Cam shoved the door open, then stepped aside for them to enter. They saw twin beds, covered in striped, multicolored heavy cotton throws, shoved against the walls; a wide chest of drawers with two lamps on it between them; a reclining easy chair beside a floor lamp; and a partially open door leading to a bathroom. All the comforts of home.
A narrow table, with an open laptop computer on it, also held a tray of covered dishes. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and something spicy made Acadia take one of her first easy breaths of the day. “Thank you.”
“Basic,” Cam assured them. “But clean. No worries about vermin o’ any kind in Cam Garcia’s place. Before you dig in, I have to show you some of our special features, then I’ll leave you two alone for a spell.” He headed for the bathroom, but paused to point a thick finger at the computer. “Savin will be callin’ in a few.”
He led them into the bathroom—small and sparse, but clean. The once-white tile was cracked in places, but it smelled like cleanser and the pine air freshener hanging from the shower rod. Worn rust-colored towels hung on the rack.
“An escape route, if you need it,” Cam offered cheerfully.
Acadia blinked at the man. “Um?”
He pointed to the towels. “Behind the rack,” he explained, and beside her, Zak smothered a laugh. “Pull it toward you and hard to the right. It’ll take you downstairs, right by the side door. That opens into a side alley.”
No kidding? This was serious spy stuff, and Acadia’s head hurt thinking about it. “Will we be using it?”
“Ah, I hope not, lass,” Cam replied, clapping her much more gently on the shoulder. “But you never know. Now, eat up while you can. I’ll just be leavin’ you to it.”
“That was … interesting,” Acadia said a few minutes later, as the door closed behind the Scotsman.
“He’s a character, all right.” Zak crossed the room to lift the covers off several large platters. “Are you hungry? Looks like he thinks we haven’t eaten in a year.”
She shook her head. Any minute now Zak would be leaving. Her heart was beating—she knew it was, otherwise she’d be unconscious. But Acadia couldn’t feel anything. She was numb. “I’m having separation anxiety,” she admitted, her feet rooted to the area rug.
Zak crossed the room to take her in his arms. To her horror, her whole body shuddered with the contact. She couldn’t control it; his touch had become so profound.
“You’ll be safe here. Savin’s arranging transportation for you. His people will ensure you get home safely.”
“I know. And I appreciate it, but—”
Zak lifted her chin on his finger. “One thing at a time, okay?”
“Of course.” He was already gone, and she couldn’t blame him. His body was here, but his head was in the jungle, climbing the falls. Searching for Gideon.
She stepped out of his arms, which made the feeling of separation a thousand times stronger and the ache in her chest that much bigger. “Have something to eat and a cup of coffee,” she suggested brightly. “You’ll probably have a long walk ahead of you.” She poured two cups of strong black java and handed him a mug. Neither of them sat down.
“I’ll t—” Zak’s words layered over hers as she said at the same time, “Promise me, you’ll—”
“Stark.”
They both turned to see Savin’s face fill the computer monitor. “Savin,” Zak said. “Appreciate your help.” Marc Savin didn’t look much different than he had ten years ago. His dark hair was no longer tied back, and he’d lost the diamond earring. A little older and wiser, but weren’t they all?
“Grab a seat, and let’s get some shit out of the way before the show starts.” Zak sat on the foot of one of the beds; Acadia stood against the wall, out of camera range.
Marc launched into the plan with clipped efficiency. “First things first. I’ve assembled a team of four men and a pilot in an Apache helicopter to take you over the target. John Reith is team leader. We have him on speaker in case there’s any breaking news,” he added. “The men hired by Buckner took off from the airfield in a rented chopper seven minutes ago, after returning from the car rental place you sent them to. They weren’t happy.” Savin smiled. “Good thinking there.”
Zak’s gaze flicked to Acadia, who grinned at him.
“They have a ten-minute head start,” Savin continued. “They’ll be landing at the small strip near Angel Falls and walking in the rest of the way. We’ll get you over the target and you and my men will rappel down, snatch and grab your brother, and return the same way.”
Acadia didn’t watch the screen. She watched Zak, memorizing every detail of his face, his stance, even the way his shoulders tensed as he listened to the plan. But it wasn’t fear she saw setting in his suddenly rigid jaw. It was elation.
Rappelling from a helicopter? Busting in before the bad guys to rescue his injured brother, making the grand escape with bullets flying? Even she couldn’t deny what a rush it’d be. But, whereas she’d be retching from nerves, Zak was eating it all up like candy.
You’re leaving, she told herself. She just had to remember that.
Savin glanced down at what Acadia assumed were papers of some sort. “Intel tells us that Buckner hasn’t been seen since seventeen hundred hours, shortly after you spoke to him this afternoon. Any idea as to his location?”
“Did he fly out?” Zak shrugged. “Hell. I have no idea. Follow the money.”
“We couldn’t find evidence of a large cash withdrawal in any of Buckner’s accounts in the last two weeks, Stark. However, prior to that, he made a withdrawal for one hundred million dollars from his account in the Caymans.”
Acadia flinched. That kind of money couldn’t possibly be real. But Zak, she noticed, appeared unfazed. “Before the kidnapping,” he pointed out. “But it’s money to do with as he likes.”
“I’d be interested to see exactly what that kind of money can do, wouldn’t you?”
Wouldn’t he just? “You bet,” Zak said dryly, not able to keep the resentment from his voice. “Like fund a well-armed group of guerrillas.”
Savin nodded. “My thoughts exactly. It looks like he put a lot into this before you and your brother even left the States. A lot of cash, a lot of Russian-made weapons, and a lot of manpower.”
“Buck’s always been a hard worker,” Zak said bitterly.
“Let’s cover a few more bases. Give me the lowdown on Jack Flynn and Michael Cobb.”
Zak narrowed his eyes. “You’ve certainly been thorough.”
“I’m putting my men and my resources behind you, Stark. I’m dotting all my i’s.”
“Fair enough.” Zak impatiently scraped both hands through his hair. “Flynn brought a nuisance suit over ZAG’s so-called hostile takeovers. It went nowhere. That was in 2002.”
“And Cobb?”
Ah, Cobb. A massive thorn in the company’s side for years. “Cobb worked with ZAG Search in the design department. To be fair, he did a lot of the early usability and interface work on the website.” Zak translated: “He helped make the website easy to use and accessible to all users, handicapped or otherwise.”
“So?”
“So, he decided to make some extra money by selling his designs to a rival company. We found out, fired him, and he sued us for breach of contract in 2004.” Zak shrugged. “He lost.” It had all been part of doing business. “These are just regular people who got swept up in business deals they weren’t ready to handle,” he said. “I can’t see any of them carrying out a personal vendetta against me, Gideon, or Buck.” And especially not with Buck.
