Cards of Love: The Tower

by Linnea May

  His face contorts as if he was in pain. He wipes his hand across his pained grimace, groaning before he tells me something that makes my spine stiffen.

  "They found us."

  His expression hardens, searching my attentive gaze. "Libby, they found us."

  "Who?" I want to know even though I should have a pretty clear idea of who he's talking about. But I still need to hear him say it.

  "Who found us, Keane?"

  He presses his lips together, averting his gaze for a split second before he returns to look at me, still deeply troubled.

  "The Covey," he says. "They know we're here."

  I feel like his words stop my heart.

  We. He said we. I don't know how, but the people he works for know about me.

  And they're coming for me.

  Chapter 19

  Keane

  "Where are we going?"

  It's not the first time she's asked that question since we got in the car, and it's not the first time I feel inclined to just ignore her.

  To spare her.

  After all, it's all I've really ever wanted for her—to be spared from all this. Spared from the truth about her cold and insincere family, spared from the terror their misdeeds brought upon her. Spared from the pain.

  Spared from having her life put in danger just because she's a blood relative to these people.

  But even I have to acknowledge we've reached a point of no return. Libby is in acute danger, and while I will do my best to protect her, I can do it all the better if she's in the know about the things that endanger her and the people who're chasing her now.

  "Your uncle is dead," I tell her, keeping my eyes on the road to spare myself from the tears she will undoubtedly shed about that news.

  But Libby doesn't comply with my expectations of her. She remains calm, barely showing any reaction to my words. She's sitting next to me, wrapped in a winter coat I'd bought for myself but must be way too warm. The bloodstained sneakers on her feet are the only possession she has left.

  The valley is dipped in warm sun, another deceivingly beautiful day cloaking the terrible things that could await us as we drive away from the place that sheltered us for almost a week. Food supplies have been running low, and I know we would have left sooner than later anyway.

  However, I did not expect it to happen like this. I did not expect to be on the run, chased by the Covey.

  And I have no idea how they even found me. Tom was the only person I talked to ever since we left the medical safe house, and I was careful never to mention the fact that the girl he saw me taking from the roof was still with me.

  There's so much weighing on me now, even more than before.

  The fact she's not crying, not even sniveling, not uttering a single word after hearing the news about her uncle unsettles me.

  "I'm sorry," I add, if only to break the eerie silence between us.

  "Don't be," she responds. "It's not like you killed him."

  That's where she's wrong. The Covey found Clyde Abbott hiding in his secret cabin in the redwood forest. The one that Libby was sent to as a teenager, the one that no one in the Covey knew about until I told Tom what I'd heard from Libby.

  I didn’t pull the trigger, but I led the Covey to him.

  "They found him on the West Coast," I tell her. "In the cabin you told me about."

  This time, she does react to my words. She sucks in a sharp breath and turns to me. "You told them about that?"

  I nod.

  "Did you tell him about me, too?" she probes. "Is that why they're after us now?"

  "No," I reply truthfully, biting my lips in anger. "I told my buddy about the hut, suggesting they should try to locate it. I didn't even know if your uncle would actually be there. But it turns out he was, and he didn't expect to be found. So the Covey had it easy with him."

  "But you said nothing about me? You never mentioned my name? You didn't tell them where you got your information? They didn’t ask?"

  Of course, Tom asked. Plenty of times. But I refused to tell him and just insisted they look into that little piece of info I could give them.

  I never said anything about Libby, but as I said, Tom is no idiot.

  And he's fucking angry with me. He was yelling, threatening me, saying that he told Boss everything, and that they're coming to get me. Now.

  His furious voice still echoes inside my head.

  "I didn't tell them anything about you," I clarify. "But they found out anyway. The guys who worked with me that night, they saw me fleeing with you. And they know I brought you to the medic safe house. The fact that I disappeared shortly after doesn't exactly help my case. It only made them more suspicious."

  "But how do they know?" Libby probes further. "How do they know about me? And about the house?"

  "I have no fucking idea!" I tell her, my voice rising to a level that visibly intimidates her. "It drives me insane, but believe me, I have no fucking clue how they found out. I thought I'd covered my tracks."

  I know Tom's ears pricked up when I told him about that cabin in the redwood forest in Northern California. He probed, wanting to know where I'd gotten that info, and I gave him some half-assed explanation about some research I'd done.

  I thought he bought it, and maybe he did.

  But maybe he didn't. He obviously forwarded my info to the Covey, but what did he do afterward? Did he engage in some research of his own? How on earth did he find us?

  "Can I trust you, Keane?" Fear laces her words; every syllable uttered with trembling lips as she tries to hold back tears. "Please, I need to be able to trust you."

  "You can," I say. And it's the first time I'm convinced at my own words. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'd rather die."

  A gasp escapes her pretty lips, and I can feel her eyes on me, trying to detect a lie behind my promise. But she won’t find one. I mean it, and she better fucking believe it.

  "Where are we going?" she repeats her most pressing question.

  "To a place up north," I answer vaguely. "To get you some new papers."

  "New papers? Like… a new ID?"

  "And a passport, yes."

  "But... how? It can't be that simple. I mean, where would you even—"

  "Libby, I'm a criminal," I interrupt her cute little rambling. "Don't forget that. I know how to get these things done. I've done it before."

  "For yourself?" she asks. "Keane is not your actual name?"

  "It is," I respond truthfully. "But I won't be using it in the future."

  I pause, unsure whether I should tell her all this. I haven't shared this with anyone before because it would have ruined everything. But with Libby, it's different. She's not part of the Covey, she would never rat me out, and most importantly, she’s coming with me. She has become part of my exit plan, whether she wants to or not. It's the only way I can keep her safe.

  "I have been preparing my way out for months," I say, finally willing to share my little tale with her. "I've been working for the Covey my entire adult life, and they don't just let you quit. You're theirs for as long as they want you. You don't get to decide. The only way out is death, or something close to it—disappearance. My plan was to finish the Abbott job and then get the hell out of there."

  "That's why you had the cabin prepared?" She assumes correctly.

  "Yes, it was going to be my first hideout spot right after the mission."

  "And then what?"

  I let out a little chuckle before replying. "You'll laugh, but my plan was to head over to the West Coast. Oregon, to be precise."

  She turns to me, shaking her head as she laughs. "Get out! That can't be true!"

  "I'm not bullshitting you, Libby. I was going to hide and start a new life very close to you."

  She remains silent for a few moments, still shaking her head while her gaze wanders out the front windshield, locking on the street ahead.

  "Is that still the plan?" she asks after a while.

  I nod. "Yes, it
is. For now."

  "What about me? You said we're getting new papers for me... and then?"

  "You're coming with me," I say, allowing no backtalk. "We'll drive out to Canada and catch a plane from Montreal. I need to get you as far away from the Covey as possible, and they'd never think to check Canadian airports. They're determined not to lose one of their own, but they'd never expect me to cross the border up north."

  "Okay..." she says in a low voice, sounding surprised but not unhappy.

  We spend most of the drive in silence. Libby drifts back to sleep after a while, knocked out from the painkillers I gave her before we left. For the entire week, she's taken a lot of naps throughout the day, exhausted from her morning routine and the strain that the healing process is putting on her body.

  I'm glad she gets to rest on the drive, too. If it's up to me, we'll spend the entire day and night driving even if I have to do it all myself. I contacted the outpost before we left the house, letting them know we needed a passport made for her as soon as possible. Of course, their first response was that my request was ridiculous, but just like almost everything else in life, my money made all the difference. The price I'm willing to pay for Libby's safety is higher than the barriers that would stop the outpost from fulfilling my request within the time limitations.

  They're waiting for us, ready to take Libby's picture and everything else they need from her to print the documents right away on location.

  I just hope they'll actually deliver.

  My body grows more tense with every mile we get closer to the outpost. I have my gun handy, just in case I need to apply a little extra pressure on Stu, the guy who'll be waiting for us.

  It's his face that I expect to see after heading up the driveway that's long enough to be considered a small and dirty country road. There's a small house and a building camouflaged as a stable, but it’s used for the counterfeit document business the Covey has been working with for years.

  I'm on high alert as the car slowly approaches the building. Libby sleeps peacefully next to me.

  A second later, I'm relieved she's not awake to witness the moment my blood freezes.

  There's a man standing in front of the house, both hands buried in his jacket's pockets, casting a dark look at me as I stop the car right in front of him.

  But the man greeting me with that sinister gaze is not Stu.

  It's Tom.

  Chapter 20

  Libby

  The car door slamming shut wakes me.

  "Stay inside!" Keane barks at me when he sees me moving. He's already outside, one hand pointing at me while the other reaches for the gun he has holstered at his belt.

  Fuck. We're in trouble.

  I watch in horror as Keane approaches the man who looks like he's been waiting for us. Something about him seems familiar, but I can't quite place him. There's just a vague familiarity, a quiet sense of déja vu that grows stronger the longer I study the man's face.

  But when the realization hits me, I wish I'd just left it be.

  I've seen that man before. At the night of the event. He was one of the guys working with Keane.

  He was on the rooftop with us. I only had a few glimpses of him as I went in and out of unconsciousness, catching little fractures of impressions when he was yelling at Keane.

  He saw me that night. He saw me in Keane's arms as he carried me away from the scene.

  He must know who I am.

  And Keane is in trouble because of that. Because of me.

  "No!" Keane snaps at me when I jump out of the car, raising my right hand in the air to show that I'm unarmed and mean no harm.

  "Please," I say, directed at the stranger. "You're looking for me! Please don't do anything to him."

  "Libby!" Keane yells, his voice unusually shrill. "Get the fuck back in the car, right now!"

  "No!" I yell back at him, stepping closer. "I'm not going to let you get hurt because of me!"

  "Oh, ain't that fucking sweet!" the other guy comments, adding a dirty laugh. "What a cute little lover's spat!"

  He shakes his head, laughing as he looks back and forth between me and Keane, whose fingers are clenching around the gun in his right hand.

  "She your girlfriend or what?" the guy asks, looking at Keane while pointing his finger at me. He takes a step forward in my direction, causing Keane to raise his gun and point it at him.

  "Take one step farther, and you're dead!" he warns.

  The guy laughs again, raising both of his hands in a defensive move.

  "Whoa, whoa, buddy, you don't see me pointing a gun at anyone, do you?" he says, arching his eyebrows. "How about you calm down a little?"

  "How about you tell me what you're doing here, Tom?" Keane responds, sounding so angry and tense that I'm actually afraid for the other guy's life for a moment.

  Tom has a point. So far, Keane is the only one threatening anybody.

  "Please, Keane," I murmur in a low voice, hoping to appease him with just the tone of my voice. He needs to keep a cool head, and right now, it looks like his fear for me and the tension that has built up over the past week are both getting the better of him. There's nothing levelheaded about the way he's acting right now. On the contrary, he seems too much on edge, ready to pull a trigger that possibly doesn't need to be pulled.

  He may not have expected to see this Tom guy here, but the man is not visibly threatening us right now.

  It works. Keane's eyes trail back over his shoulder, resting on me for a few seconds as if to make sure I really am okay before he slowly lowers his gun. His shoulders fall as the tension eases just the slightest bit, making room for the clarity we need right now.

  "What are you doing here?" he asks Tom. "Why did you send the Covey after us?"

  Tom doesn't respond right away. Instead, his gaze travels over to me, scanning me from head to toe, his eyes resting a little longer on my crippled shoulder and the arm resting in its splint.

  "Elizabeth Caroline Abbott," he says, enunciating every syllable of my full name. Each and every single one of them sends a cold spark through my chest. It's as if he's undressing me, exposing my every little secret. By using my full name, he makes it seem as if he knew more about me than Keane. He's always just known me as Libby, the name I've used for myself since I was ten years old and tired of being called Elizabeth.

  "What a well-guarded secret you were," he continues, and when he makes a move to approach me again, Keane immediately raises his gun at him. He casts him a quick glance, rolling his eyes in annoyance, but stops.

  "Why are you here?" Keane spits at him. "What do you want? Why did you send the Covey after us?"

  Tom lets a few seconds pass, visibly relishing in Keane's panicked voice.

  "You know she has to die," he tells him. "She's an Abbott. The job won't be done until all the Abbotts are gone."

  There's something about the way he accentuates the last sentence, in a weird singsong voice, somewhat ridiculing it. It sounds more like he's making fun of the whole kill-all-the-Abbotts idea than actually believing in it.

  "She's not going to die," Keane insists, seemingly ignoring the tone of his buddy. "She was never on the list."

  Tom nods. "I know that. But you know the boss would disagree."

  "Would disagree?" Keane probes. "Didn't you already tell him? I thought you'd send them my way."

  Tom lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head as an apologetic smile spreads across his face.

  "I lied, okay?" he says. "Fuck, Keane, I had no idea where you were. I still don't. I did find out about her after you gave me that little of information about the redwood forest in Northern California. That place up there, the secret niece that was shoved away because she brought shame on the family. It's easy once you know what you're looking for. And I knew right away that she must be the girl you took that night. But I had no idea why you took here or where."

  A crease appears between Keane's eyebrows as he listens to Tom's explanation.

  "I bribed the
little doctor dude at the medic safe house," he continues. "But even he couldn't tell me where you took off to. And believe me, I tried everything to make him speak..."

  His voice breaks off, and he shakes his head in despair. "Fuck, man. Why'd you take off like that? You should've talked to me!"

  Keane sighs, looking defeated. "I didn't know if I could trust you. You know the Covey—"

  "Yes, I do fucking know!" Tom cuts him off. "Those assholes didn't care one fuck about Jered! He dropped dead that night, died on a mission, and me and Brad were the only ones who cared! He had no family, none of us do. All he had was the Covey, and what did they fucking do for him? Nothing! Boss didn't even want to give him a proper funeral."

  "Shit," Keane hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lowers his gaze, his head shaking. "Fuck them."

  "Damn straight, fuck them!" Tom yells. "That's why I'm fucking here, man—and that's why you're here."

  He pauses, letting his words sink in and watch the understanding spread across Keane's face.

  "To get out," he finishes. "I want out. And I know you do, too."

  Keane bites his lips. I can see the uncertainty painted on his features, leaving dark shadows as he tries to make sense of Tom's words, trying to figure out whether he's telling the truth or not.

  "You want out?" he asks. "Are you for real?"

  The expression on Tom's face hardens, and he nods solemnly. "Yes. That's why I'm here. So Stu can get me out. And I know you've been working with him, too. I knew you'd come here, to save her, if I told you that the Covey is after you."

  Keane gasps with disbelief. "You lied to me? You told me the Covey was after me so I'd come here?"

  "Yes," Tom confirms, nodding. "I wanted to see you. You and I, we've worked together on so many missions, and I know that both of us have long been ready to get out of that damn misery."

  "But neither one of us ever said a word."

  "Damn straight. Because—"

  "Because you don't get out alive," Keane finishes his sentence.

  "Well, we'll prove them wrong, won't we?" Tom says, a weak smile appearing on his face. "Seriously. I'm fucking done working for these assholes. Especially after the way they treated Jered."