by Tate, Harley
“Nowhere you want to—” The line broke up again and Keith strained to pick out more than Rick’s voice. Was that a train in the background? An airplane? Keith couldn’t tell. “Can you tell me anything more?”
“Midge was right about everything. It’s worse than Lainey thought. It’s a go—”
A sharp crack drowned out Rick’s words and he cursed again. “Rick! Rick are you all right?”
“Keep Lainey safe.”
“What about you?”
Another volley of cracks echoed across the line. Were those gunshots? Was Rick in danger? “Rick? Rick!” Keith shouted into the phone. Muffled curses carried across the line and Keith turned up the volume. He strained to make out what sounded like a constant thumping. Was Rick running?
A shout. Another brush of something across the mic. Crack! Crack! Keith pulled the phone away from his ear. The line was dead and Rick was gone.
“Tell me that’s not what it sounded like.”
He flicked his eyes up to find Lainey standing in the doorway to his bathroom. She clutched a towel around her naked body as her soaked hair dripped water onto the floor. From the tight mouth and pinched brow, Keith assumed she’d heard most of the conversation.
She tightened her grip on the towel. “What’s going on?”
“Your phone rang while you were in the shower. It came up unknown so I answered it. I thought it might be your sister.”
“But it wasn’t.” Her voice remained even, but he could hear the strain.
“No. It was Rick Easton. He said the bombs were in play. That Midge was right and we needed to leave LA right now.”
“What was that at the end?”
Keith swallowed. He wasn’t sure he could say the words. “It was a bad connection.”
She didn’t give up. Her hand holding up her towel shook as she stared him down. “What was it, Keith?”
“Maybe I’m wrong and there’s some innocent explanation, but—” He steadied himself with a hand on the closest stool. “I think it was gunshots.”
Chapter Fourteen
LAINEY
Keith’s Apartment
Los Angeles, California
Saturday, 2:30 a.m. PST
Stomach acid and the taste of the half-digested eggs burned in the back of Lainey’s throat. Rick hadn’t really been shot, had he?
She clutched her towel with both hands, pressing the damp fabric against her chest. If I got him into some mess… If I got him hurt… She spun around without saying another word and shut the bathroom door. So much for finding some clean clothes. Lainey tugged back on her wrinkled dress and pulled her hair back into a low ponytail.
She caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. Dark circles beneath her eyes. No makeup to hide the pallor of her cheeks. Wash off all the makeup and charm and she was just a twenty-seven-year-old woman with no idea what the hell she was doing. A sob caught in her throat.
She channeled Matt, her immediate boss at the station. Reporters at KSBF work the tough stories, so get out there and do your job. Lainey focused on her blue eyes. I can do this. I can break this story. She blinked and turned toward the door. As she opened it, Bear’s tail wagged across the room. He sat beside Keith, the pair of them waiting side by side like she’d never left. Like she’d never walked out on the best thing to happen to her since getting the job at KSBF.
The sight pulled at her heart, but she shut the feelings down. No time for that now. “Can I use your computer?”
Keith nodded and motioned toward the small desk pushed up against the wall. “Have at it.”
Lainey wasted no time, rushing over to the chair and pulling it out as Bear trundled over. She woke the computer from sleep and pulled up her email. Nothing new. She opened a new browser and typed in Rick’s name. Ran search after search. Nothing. Crystal was right; the man had been scrubbed from existence. She ran a hand down her face. “Can you—”
Her phone was in her hand before she could even finish the question. Lainey smiled in appreciation, but it was more reflex than feeling. She pulled up her texts and fired one off to her mom, her sister, and Crystal. Her knee bounced up and down as she waited. No replies.
She called her mother. Straight to voicemail. Calls to her sister and Crystal went the same way. She couldn’t call back the number Rick had used since it showed up unknown. She fell back against the chair in a huff. What were they going to do now? If Rick and the British voice on Crystal’s phone were right, bombs were about to detonate all over the United States and Lainey was sitting in a studio apartment a few miles from Hollywood doing nothing about it.
The phone trembled in her hand. She blinked back a rush of hot tears. I can’t break down. Not now.
A hand landed softly on her shoulder and she jumped.
Keith eased into a crouch beside her. “It’s okay to freak out.”
“You aren’t.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten my SHTF face already? ‘Cause this is it.”
Lainey laughed despite the growing fear and nausea. “How do you always know the right things to say?”
“Beats me. I’m just a cameraman with a crappy apartment and a dog that won’t mind his own business.” Bear squirmed his way in between Lainey and Keith and nuzzled Lainey’s bare knee.
She laughed again and the stress and panic clouding her judgment eased. “I’m not getting anywhere running in circles. How about we brainstorm what to do next?”
Keith stood up. “I’ll make a pot of coffee. We’re both going to need it.”
Lainey watched Keith work in the kitchen, filling the carafe and dumping coffee grounds into a filter. She thought about the mundanity of the task. Scoop grounds, pour water over, get coffee. How many other tasks that simple were about to become impossible? If a bomb took out the heart of Los Angeles, would it cut the power to the rest of the city? Would roads be impassable? Would people die from radiation within the day? The week? The month?
She shivered as Keith crossed the apartment, a mug in each hand. He held one out to Lainey. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About how this might be the last cup of coffee we ever drink?”
He paused halfway into a sitting position. “No, about the British Consulate.”
“At least one of us is being productive.” Lainey blew across the surface of the coffee.
“The offices will probably be closed until Monday.” Keith eased down onto the couch. “Even if they have some twenty-four-seven staff, they won’t be open for just anyone to walk in.”
“So what are you saying? You think it’s a dead end?”
“No. But I don’t think we’ll get any information at the Consulate itself.”
Lainey wrinkled her nose. “I don’t follow.”
“The head of the office is the Consul General, right?”
Lainey nodded.
“Well, his house can’t be more than a mile from here. I say we go there and try to get in.”
“You want to break into the British Consul General’s house?”
“Not break in, talk our way in. If he’s home, which we have every reason to assume he is, then we have a chance to talk to the head guy himself. If anyone at the Consulate knows the truth, it would be him.”
Lainey sipped her coffee. “I don’t know. That voice on Crystal’s recording didn’t sound like some high-up muckety-muck.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Not a one.”
“Then it’s settled. We go to the Consul General’s house first.”
Lainey wanted to argue. How would a reporter who looked like something the cat dragged in, a cameraman, and a shaggy golden retriever talk their way inside the house of the one of the top-ranking British officials in the United States? But Keith was right; she didn’t have a better idea.
Keith set down his mug and plucked a notepad and a pen off his coffee table. He drew a rectangle. “There are two entrances to the house visible from the street. The main one here—” He drew an
X in the middle of a long side of the rectangle. “And one off the driveway, here.” He drew a second X on the short side before following up with a set of curving lines from the X to the end of the page, denoting the driveway.
“There are at least two guards at all times, but probably more in the back and inside the house. One walks the driveway and one walks the front of the house and the grass yard.”
Lainey side-eyed Keith’s profile. “How do you know all this?”
“We run by every day. One of the guards has a soft spot for Bear and gives him treats when he’s walking the front.”
“When is this?”
“Whenever we run between five and six.”
Lainey glanced at the clock. Five was less than two hours away. “What about the night guards?”
“Don’t know. I’m never running at night.”
Either they waited until they knew the guard would be there or they took their chances with the unknown night shift. “Are lights on in the house that early?”
Keith glanced up at the ceiling. “I think so. Sometimes a Tahoe pulls in while I’m running down the street. I’ve seen a security detail carry coffee and doughnuts in through the driveway door.”
If they waited a few hours, they might catch the Consul General before he left for the day. It was a risk on a Saturday—he could be out of town or have pulled a late night and not want to be disturbed—but what choice did they have? It was this or drive back to the Consulate and try their luck at an office on a Saturday morning after one of the worst news cycles in history.
Lainey’s stomach threatened to heave. The lack of sleep combined with the greasy diner food and Keith’s coffee was wreaking havoc on her insides. She swallowed down another mouthful of the coffee before setting her mug on the table. “Now what?”
“Now we plan.” Keith placed three smaller Xs around his sketch and drew arrows between them. “These are the paths the guards patrol. If I had to guess, I’d say two in the back mirror the two in the front, giving full coverage of every inch of the perimeter.”
Lainey twisted on the couch. “What if we can’t sweet talk our way in?”
“We’ll have to come up with a big enough distraction to lure at least two guards away.”
What kind of a distraction would be large enough to do that? She doubted a barking dog clamoring for treats would do the job. She sobered. “How far are you willing to go?”
“To find out if my apartment’s about to be turned into an ash pit?” Keith shrugged. “Pretty far, I guess.”
“If we break in, we’re committing a crime.”
“I know.”
“If we’re caught inside the residence, we might be subject to British law and extradition.”
“I know that, too.”
Lainey leaned closer. “And you’re willing to risk it?”
Keith grinned. “I’ve always wanted to see London.”
“I don’t know if you’ll like the view from a jail cell.”
“Only one way to find out.” Keith squeezed her knee. “It’s okay, Lainey. I understand the risks. I want to help you.”
She didn’t know what else to say. Here he was, her ex-boyfriend, willing to risk a trip to the London slammer all to help a woman who’d dumped him for her career. She smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It had turned to cement. “About us—”
Keith waved her off. “Not now. After you’ve blown the story wide open and saved millions of lives, we can talk.” He reached for his mug and drained the remaining coffee in a single gulp. “Right now we need to tear this place apart and pack up.”
“What?”
“Anything we might need to survive a nuclear apocalypse.”
Lainey’s mouth fell open as Keith stood up.
“What? You didn’t think I’d let you walk out of here without more than a work dress and an empty water bottle, did you?” He held out a hand. “Come on, I’ve got a spare backpack around here somewhere. It’s about time I put it to good use.”
Chapter Fifteen
KEITH
South June Street
Los Angeles, California
Saturday, 5:15 a.m. PST
Bear stopped to smell the corner of a retaining wall overflowing with purple flowers and Keith reached out to Lainey. “We’re about a block away. The house is the second to last on the right before the next cross street. Stuccoed Mediterranean sandwiched between two brick Tudors.”
Lainey nodded. “Are you sure the guards will be out? This is a quiet street.”
Keith surveyed the oversized houses with gated driveways and picturesque front yards. “I’m sure. If the Consul General is inside, guards will be stationed outside.”
“Don’t the neighbors mind?”
“I bet they love it. Free security year-round.”
He reached down and scratched Bear behind the ear. The reality of the obstacles in their way finally began to seep into Keith’s consciousness. Here they stood, a reporter, a cameraman, and a dog, trying to dig up information on the greatest attack ever on American soil. Where was the government? The military? Anyone?
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The more they sniffed around, the worse it stank.
“Are you okay?” Lainey’s hand squeezed his bicep.
“Just having a moment.” He opened his eyes to find her staring.
“It might all be nothing.” She dropped her hand and turned back toward the street and the Consul General’s house beyond. “But I owe it to my sister and to Rick to find out. If the British Consul General has information, then that’s where we need to go.”
Keith nodded. Lainey was right. They couldn’t let doubt and fear keep them from figuring out the truth. If it all turned out to be a hoax or some giant misunderstanding, then so be it. “So we follow the plan?”
Lainey nodded.
After ransacking his apartment and stuffing two backpacks full of everything from water bottles to food to sweatshirts, a hand-crank radio, and flashlight, they had worked out a plan. Keith and Bear would talk to the guard out front while Lainey would do her best to work the guard on the side. Splitting up doubled their odds of success. If one made it in, the other would wait.
It wasn’t foolproof and they could both strike out, but at least they could say they tried talking first. With the van parked three blocks over in a bank parking lot, they might be able to escape even if the guards attempted to hold them.
Keith tugged on Bear’s leash and pulled him away from the interesting smells.
It only took a minute or two to reach the house. Bear’s tail picked up speed, wagging faster as he sniffed the air. Keith leaned toward Lainey. “The guard is out. Bear can smell him already.”
Lainey pulled back and let Keith take the lead. As he crossed the driveway, Bear woofed and bowed like a puppy, his butt stuck up in the air as he caught sight of the guard. The man patted his pocket and Keith let Bear’s leash go. The dog raced across the grass to sit at the guard’s feet. Keith approached slowly, critically examining him for the first time.
Average height, thick build. Black dress pants and matching shirt. His jacket flapped open, but Keith didn’t see a gun. Were they private security, British police, or military? Keith didn’t have a clue. He walked over and scooped up Bear’s leash with a smile. “Morning.”
“To you, too.” The guard smiled, but his eyes were all for Bear. “Who’s a good boy? You are, that’s right.” He tossed another treat and Bear caught it midair. “Not out for a run today?’
Keith frowned.
The guard waved at him. “You’re in jeans.”
“Oh, right. Yeah—” Keith hadn’t prepared for this. He faltered. “I, um, need to get to work early. No time to shower.”
“Tell me about it. This gig has me up at four every blasted day.”
Based on the American accent, Keith pegged him for local private security. He glanced to the left. No sign of Lainey. Either she’d made it inside already or was sweet-ta
lking a guard out of sight. Keith ran a hand through his hair. “So, uh, I heard this is the British Consulate. Is that right?”
“Naw, that’s over in the government district.”
Keith frowned. The guard might hand out dog treats like they were candy, but he sure didn’t share information. “So what is it, then? A meeting space?”
The guard’s smile slipped. “We’re not supposed to discuss it.”
Keith held up his hands. “No worries. Just making conversation.” He reached for Bear. Small talk was getting him nowhere. He turned toward the street. Not a single passerby. He glanced up at the house. Security cameras hugged the terracotta tile at the corners of the roofline. Even if he could overpower the guard, how many more were inside? If someone watched the feed, would the LA police show up?
He tried a different tactic. “Where do you get those treats? My dog sure loves them.”
The guard motioned back at the house. “They stock them inside. The Consul’s terriers eat them like candy.”
“So he lives here?” Keith whistled. “Sweet digs.”
The guard frowned at his slip-up, but Keith let Bear’s leash go. The dog practically knocked the guard down to get at his treats and any lingering reservations disappeared. The man handed Bear another treat and patted him on the head. “I’m not supposed to say anything.” He glanced behind him before leaning forward. “Will and Kate, you know the royals? They stayed here a few years ago while on an official visit and tour buses drove by all hours with a megaphone pointing out the house. Fans were camped outside on the sidewalk. It was crazy.”
“No, thank you.” Keith waved his hands like he wanted no part of it. “I run this street because it’s quiet.”
“Exactly. That’s why my boss likes it, too. He doesn’t need nearly the same amount of security here as he would in other parts of LA.”
Keith filed the information away. Not as many guards could be a good thing if he couldn’t get inside. But he wasn’t done trying. As he opened his mouth to press the issue, another guard emerged from the side of the house, dragging Lainey by the upper arm. Keith’s heart sank. So much for sweet-talking their way in. He pointed at her. “Guess you got yourself a fan. Someone should tell her Will and Kate aren’t here.”
