They parked at the office entrance and Jack got out to open the back door. As everyone piled out, Annabelle watched the black BMW ride smoothly past the rental office to continue down the street and disappear around a corner several blocks down.
“After you, luv,” Jack waited until everyone else had gone in and Annabelle was still standing beside him. She shot him a smile and then followed the others into the building’s showroom. At that point, Jack moved to the front of the group and approached the sales associate that greeted him.
With gestures both well practiced and incredibly smooth, Jack led the man away from the group to speak with him in private. He turned his back to them as he dealt with the salesman and Annabelle couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying or doing.
“What do you suppose he’s planning, luv?” Beatrice asked Annabelle. She watched Jack carefully and then turned to Beatrice, who was leaning up against the black Mercedes Benz that had been placed on display at the center of the room.
“My money is on diversions. We’re surrounded by limos that look exactly like the one we rode in on.” She paused and bit her lip. “Or maybe he wants to make a trade…”
Then the salesman left Jack and slipped into the back of the offices. When he returned, it was to nod at Jack reassuringly and step to the side. A second later, five drivers, all dressed in their professional white and black uniforms, two female, three male, stepped out of the back offices and nodded to Jack as they approached him.
Again, a conversation in hushed tones ensued. After a few minutes, the drivers indicated that they understood Jack’s orders and would comply, and then they turned and left the show room, exiting through the door that led to the parking garage beyond.
“Diversions, then.” Annabelle concluded.
Jack approached Annabelle and the others, who waited expectantly to hear the plan.
“So, what’s the Jackie, da’?” Clara asked.
Before Annabelle could shoot her a confused look, Jack told them what he’d set up and within a few very well choreographed minutes, the entire group, minus Jack and Annabelle, was seated in the back of one of the five different vehicles, which each left City Coach Limousines at exactly the same time.
Jack drove. He didn’t want to involve an innocent driver in what was already a strange, mixed-up mess and that had resulted, thus far, in more than one homicide.
This time, Annabelle sat beside him, in the front seat. “There were at least five cars used in the tail, Jack. All they have to do is send each of their cars out after each of the limos and, chances are, we’ll be found out.”
“They have to realize what happened, first.” Jack told her. “It’ll take them some time. Hopefully, we’ll be at our destination before they’re the wiser.” Then again, whoever was after them had managed to determine their location in the first place. That, alone, was impressive. How had they been found in New York? They should have been off of the radar a long time ago – since before ever getting on Sam’s plane.
Jack took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. These guys were good. Too good. Which meant they were top-of-the-line and highly paid. Which meant that the mess Annabelle had gotten mixed up in was either very, very big, or very, very bad.
“Medicine,” Annabelle said suddenly. Jack gave her a side-long glance. She turned to him and blinked. “Sorry, it’s just that I think I just realized this all has to have something to do with medicine.”
“Oh?” Jack asked. “Explain.”
Annabelle had been thinking about this for a while. What could Teresa Anderson have stumbled upon that would be worth her life? In the movies, only a few things were worth killing someone over. Honor was one of them. Jealousy or revenge. Love, of course, was the biggie. And then there was the nasty one. Money.
“Teresa worked for a pharmaceutical company. I’m betting that Craig Brandt did too. Maybe they worked together, even. Like lab partners or something.”
“Go on,” Jack prompted.
“Pharmaceutical companies rake in the big bucks. We’re talking billions. For the people in charge, that’s a nice thick pocket-lining.”
Jack nodded.
“So, what if Teresa found something out that threatened this cash flow somehow?”
“And Brandt?” Jack prompted.
“I don’t know… He obviously must know something too. Maybe she told him. Or maybe he’s the one who found it out and he told her. Or perhaps they discovered it together. Hell, maybe they even caused it.”
Jack mulled this over for a minute. “And you think this has something to do with medicine, rather than administration?”
Annabelle gazed out the windshield for a few silent seconds. There was something about this case that pointed toward medicine. Drugs. She wasn’t sure what it was – couldn’t put her finger on it. But her instincts were screaming at her. She could feel it in her bones.
“Yes, I do.”
That was good enough for Jack. He glanced over at her once and then turned back to the road.
“So, where are we going, exactly?” She asked.
“A house in Forest Hills. I rent it out occasionally, but it’s empty at the moment.”
“You own property in New York?” Annabelle was surprised. She knew that real estate was his cover, but she’d had no idea how wide-spread it was.
“A few complexes and two homes.” He answered.
Annabelle blinked. How much money was that? And, where else did he own real estate?
“Do you own stuff in every state?”
“No.”
“California?”
“Yes. Two condominiums and a beach house.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Oregon?”
“A light house museum and a few acres inland.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment and then asked, “Hawaii?”
He smiled. “I might have a little something there,” he told her as his gaze cut to her. “Why are you asking, luv?”
She blushed and shrugged. “No reason.”
They headed East through Manhattan and into Queens, the taxi-yellow on the streets thinning out, making way for cars of other make and color. As they progressed, the buildings became shorter, the sidewalks newer, and the foliage more plentiful. Eventually, they were driving down a prestigious neighborhood, lined with marble mansions and lawns that were already emerald green.
Jack’s was one of them. They drove through a wrought-iron gate that seemed to open for them automatically and then pulled up alongside the curb of the front walk. The house was isolated on the street, tall ever-green trees blocking them from the views of other homes or passers-by and lending the building a mansion-in-the-woods ambiance.
“You make entirely too much money for snuffing people, you know that?” Annabelle muttered, with a shake of her head.
Jack laughed out-right. But he didn’t reply. They parked and he opened his door. A second later, she opened hers and exited the car. Behind them, Dylan had already climbed out of the cabin of the vehicle. With a wary glance in every direction, he made his way over to Annabelle. Clara, Beatrice and Cassie followed.
“What is this place?” Dylan asked. His hands were in his pockets and his posture was such that he looked cold. Annabelle guessed it was just nervousness. Or maybe he actually was chilly. It was New York in May. And he wasn’t wearing a big jacket.
“Oh, it’s just a little place I like to get away to sometimes,” Annabelle replied haughtily. She tossed a long lock of her hair over her shoulder and assumed a vogue stance. “You know – it isn’t much, but it does keep the doldrums away.”
Dylan smiled at that. She was glad to see the kid smile. She winked at him and took his elbow in hers. “Come on. Let’s go check this dump out.”
“You’ll need this, luv,” Jack called out from behind them. She turned around and he held out a small silver key. She took it, her brow raised in mock surprise.
“What, no servants? No butler to open the door for us?”
&nb
sp; “I’ve sent them away,” he replied, matching her aloofness with a haughty smile of his own.
Annabelle grinned and shook her head. Then, slipping back into Hollywood celebrity mode, she gave a snooty toss of her hair and strode up the walk and to the front door, Dylan in tow.
On the step, she let go of Dylan and slid the key into the lock. When the door suddenly swung inward, the key stayed in the lock and was jerked out of her hand. She had no time to react as an arm shot out of the darkness, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her violently around. She was roughly pulled against someone’s chest and something cold and hard was placed to her left temple.
Around her, people seemed to be shouting and moving all at once, a chaotic dance that she couldn’t keep track of. Her heart had leapt into her throat from first contact and stayed there, making it hard to breathe.
Through the fuzziness of her sudden terror, she could make out Jack, in a film of red, standing a few yards away, his hands out at his sides in a placating gesture.
“Take all of your weapons and place them on the ground in front of you, Thane.”
Jack nodded, once, and ever so slowly pulled his jacket away from his body so that Annabelle’s captor could see the gun in the shoulder holster. He then, just as slowly, pulled the gun out of the holster, using only his thumb and index finger on the grip. He bent and placed the gun on the ground in front of his feet, never breaking eye contact with the man behind Annabelle.
“All of them.”
Annabelle noticed that the man didn’t have a particularly deep voice. And it wasn’t exactly loud. But there was a magnetism to it.
Jack didn’t say anything. He simply proceeded to carefully and gradually rid himself of various weapons on his body, placing them on the ground beside the gun.
“Everyone else, get in the house and close the door behind you. Thane, you and Miss Drake are coming with me.” It was a voice of reason, actually. So perfectly collected and self-possessed. It was hard to argue with a voice like that.
It took a minute for the order to sink in, but after a brief, shocked pause, Cassie moved to Dylan, who had fallen back a few feet away from Annabelle. She took him gently by the arm and pulled him around Annabelle and her captor to head for the door. Beatrice and Clara followed after, Clara holding Beatrice’s arm just as Cassie was with Dylan.
“Close the door.” The man reminded them. Cassie nodded and shot Annabelle one last look before stepping inside. There was a lot of unvoiced sentiment packed into that look. Fear, regret, disbelief – and hope. Annabelle could recognize it because she refused not to see it. If her captor was insisting on leaving the others behind, then maybe she and Jack had a chance. Maybe Cassie would figure something out. Maybe Clara would. Hell, maybe her father had trained her for this kind of thing…
One could always hope. And, so, she did.
The others closed the door and the man holding Annabelle turned his attention to Jack.
“Turn around and get back in the car. Nice and slow. Thane, you’re driving. If you decide to find another weapon somewhere in the car, don’t forget where the first bullet will land.” Again, the orders came in tranquil composure and, again, Jack said nothing. He simply did as instructed, turning around slowly and heading back to the limousine. Annabelle watched him go, feeling utterly helpless and completely terrified. Then she was moving, being pushed forward by her captor.
Jack went around the car and opened the driver’s side door. It occurred to Annabelle that if they’d been in their original car, he might have actually had a hidden weapon somewhere within it. If they hadn’t traded off for another limo back at the City Coach rental office, they might have had a chance of getting out of this mess before it really ever started.
Then again, she might just get shot. It didn’t take much time at all to pull a trigger. The man holding her hostage would certainly have at least that much time to react. And that would be all he needed.
“When you get inside, open the passenger side door and swing it wide.”
Jack nodded once and slid into the car. In another second, he was reaching across the seats and opening the front passenger side door as well. The man holding Annabelle moved her forward and then let her go, keeping the gun to her temple as he placed his other hand on her head, forcing her to bend and enter the car.
She didn’t fight him. As she climbed in, her eyes found Jack’s and their gazes locked.
“Start the car, Thane.” The man behind her said, and Jack broke eye contact to focus on the road ahead. He straightened, stuck the key in the ignition and started the engine.
The man got in beside Annabelle and, luckily for her, the front seat was a bench seat or she would have been balancing between two bucket seats or seated uncomfortably atop a storage compartment.
The gun was moved from her head to her ribs, which was decidedly more uncomfortable, as he found the need to dig it in somewhat.
But she refused to complain, as a bullet between the ribs would have been far more uncomfortable, still. Instead, she wondered, rather frantically, whether she was going to survive this day.
And then, when she felt the very old, familiar stirrings of panic spring to life somewhere at the base of her spine or the pit of her gut, she decided to try to focus on something besides her fear and discomfort. Now that her captor was seated beside her, she was able to get a good look at him. He was not the most physically imposing figure she’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been much taller than her, in fact, and though he was slim and trim, he was not what she would call “built”. He had a balding head and wore wire-rimmed glasses. His body was unimpressive, all in all. His face, however, held a certain charisma. It was appealing, in a sense, because he seemed… kind. It was ludicrous. He had a kind face. How did a professional killer wind up with a kind face?
And he was dressed in a three-piece cage. He wore a gray pin striped suit and tie with a black wool trench coat over it. The clothes gave him a well-kempt, slightly blue-blooded appearance.
He looked like a sympathetic, soft-spoken attorney. Yep. If she had to put his appearance into words, that’s how she’d do it. A snake in sheep’s clothing.
“Drive down the street and take the first left. Then go two blocks and take a right,” he instructed.
“What do you call yourself and who do you work for?” Jack asked, suddenly. His tone was as calm as the other man’s and his expression did not change. He continued to look straight ahead, at the road.
“At the moment, I work for the Colonel,” the man answered, easily, as he pulled a cell phone out of the front breast pocket of his jacket. “And you can call me Reese.” He pressed a few buttons on his phone and lights flickered on the LCD screen. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Thane.” He said it as if he truly meant it.
Jack glanced to his right and his gaze met Reese’s. Then Reese pressed the Talk button on his phone.
The explosion was several blocks away, but it was powerful enough that it still rocked the limousine. Jack’s foot slammed down on the break, sending Annabelle forward to bump her head on the dash board. Reese caught himself easily with the hand he held the phone in. Annabelle straightened and absently fingered her forehead as Jack threw open the driver’s side door and jumped out of the car.
She and Reese followed after.
Jack stood beside his open door, his gaze directed over the houses in the distance. A billowing cloud of black smoke rose from behind several roofs and a thick copse of trees. Sirens could be heard from somewhere not too far away.
“Oh my God…” Annabelle whispered as realization dawned on her. The smoke was rising from Jack’s house. A wave of dizziness washed over her. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
Cassie… Dylan…Clara.
Jack’s daughter had been in that house, along with her mother.
“Oh my God,” she said again, not able to stop herself and unable to think of anything else to say.
“Get back in the car
, Thane,” Reese said then. His tone was gentle enough, perhaps spurred into a sick sort of tenderness through professional empathy, but his gun was once more directed at Annabelle. She barely noticed. And she barely cared.
Something inside of her snapped. She lunged forward, ready to rip the gun out of his hand and maybe take his arm with it. But he reacted as if he’d expected the outburst, easily stepping to the side, grabbing her outstretched arms, and wrenching them in front of her to spin her around and pin her to his chest once more.
“I suggest you calm down, Miss Drake. You’re all Mr. Thane has left in this world. Don’t make me take you away from him as well.” He spoke the words with calm authority.
Annabelle looked at Jack over the top of the car. His eyes caught hers. His expression was unreadable, but something terrifying danced in their cobalt depths. Their normal sky blue had turned slightly dark, slightly gray. Like an impending storm on a Summer’s day.
“Now, get back in the car. We have a meeting with someone and I’d rather not be late.”
Reese released Annabelle and gave her a slight shove. She ducked and crawled back into the front seat of the limousine. Half way, she had to pause and wipe her eyes as she realized she was crying and the liquid was blurring her vision. She sat down in the middle of the seat and stared straight ahead, unseeing.
A thousand thoughts chased each other through her mind. And they all seemed silenced. Muffled. Even as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks, there was a numbness spreading through her. Nothing made sense any longer.
In the last twenty-four hours, she’d lost three of the people in the world whom she cared for the most. And Jack had lost more than that. He’d lost his daughter.
There was no coming back from that. There was nothing worse you could do to a human being.
“Four-ninety-five West to Two-seventy-eight South. Red Hook.” Reese instructed.
Jack put the car back in gear and began driving. Silence filled the cabin. In the rear-view mirrors, the sky continued to darken with billowing black clouds of smoke. At some point before reaching the Interstate, they passed several fire trucks and an ambulance.
Hell Bent Page 16
