by Shana Silver
“Maybe I’ll even show you, too,” she says with a grin, and I hate the way my shoulders relax.
The bus slows to a stop behind a long line of cars. Traffic stops for minutes at a time and the campers start to groan at the lengthy delay. It’s only when we reach the front of the traffic queue that I see them. The black cars. The shiny badges. The jackets that say FBI in big white letters on the back.
An FBI checkpoint.
My pulse slams into my neck. Colin yanks me out of my seat and tugs me through the aisle, despite Abby’s warnings to sit down.
“She’s going to throw up!” he announces and pulls my hair out of my face in preparation.
I cover my mouth with my hand and try not to look any campers in the eye as we beeline for the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus.
Just as the bus door swings open to let on an agent, Colin and I launch ourselves inside the bathroom.
Inside, my shoulder juts into Colin’s chest, both of us maneuvering to press our ears against the door. Outside the bathroom, Abby warns everyone to stay in their seats. A stomp ricochets through the floor and indicates expensive men’s shoes have entered the bus. A hushed exchange follows.
Abby’s shrill voice penetrates the thick plastic separating us from jail. “I assure you, this is a teen tour. We’re not harboring any criminals.”
“… take a look around…” The agent’s voice floats through the door. His footsteps grow louder.
Colin’s hand finds mine and squeezes. Our fingers lace together as if we’re both trying to hold on to freedom. I clamp my mouth shut, afraid even a tiny whisper will give me away. I don’t even make a joke about our love for restrooms.
Everything stays silent except for the thump thump thump of men’s dress heels making their way to the back. My skin prickles with goose bumps.
The footsteps stop. There’s the unmistakable static of a walkie-talkie coming to life, sounding loud enough as though it’s right outside the bathroom door. “Agent Olsen. You’re needed back at base immediately.”
Once the agent exits, the bus moves past the FBI cordon, and the commotion starts back up. I fall out of the bathroom and sink into the three-seater. A sensation of vertigo makes my head spin. When Colin scoots next to me, his eyes zone out, and his face is blank except for the tightness winding at the corners of his lips.
“Was that for us?” I ask.
He bites his lip. “I doubt it. Otherwise they wouldn’t have left without checking everywhere.”
I swallow hard and nod. He’s right. The FBI aren’t stupid. If they were looking for us, they would have been more diligent about searching, asking questions, catching us.
The two of us stare forward, and I try not to freak out in the ten additional minutes it takes to reach the guitar center. The FBI weren’t here for us. But the guitar is.
“Ready to make history?” Colin asks in a cheery tone, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
I suck in a deep, encouraging breath. No time for nerves. I need to go all in now. “Personal history, yes. But not anything that will go down in the books.”
Tig’s electronics are all charged, organized, and tucked into her backpack so she can slip out to the restroom and be ready to intercept calls within minutes. Thankfully, the famous Lucy guitar is on display on the last part of the three-hour tour, so we’ve got a lot of time to pull this off, and we’re way more prepared than for the amusement park heist.
We’ve got this.
I grab the guitar, which I brought with me under the ruse that I want to get it tuned. Totally reasonable, I’m sure. But right after we step off the bus, I pretend to tie my shoe. While everyone’s back is turned, I shove the guitar behind a decorative bush off to the side of the entrance.
“Wait, where’s your guitar?” Lakshmi asks as we head into the foyer, squinting at me.
I groan. “Abby made me keep it on the bus.”
“Oh man. That sucks.”
She studies me for a beat, but the line moves forward and I clear my throat. She spins around and starts following them without another word.
Inside, high ceilings and slick white walls surround us. A glossy wood floor leads toward a large open space filled with guitars and blowups of famous rock records. Gray metal beams ring the ceiling and shoot in columns at intervals to give the entire place an industrial vibe.
But my eyes fly right to the two police officers standing guard just beyond the ticket booth. The steady tick tick tick of my pulse increases in tempo.
I ditch Lakshmi and sidle up to Colin again. “They have to be here for us. Police right after an FBI check seems too coincidental,” I whisper into his ear as we wait in line for wristbands.
He stares forward as though he’s seen a ghost. “I stand by what I said on the bus. If they’re here for us, wouldn’t they stop us? Especially by now?”
I try to still my shaking hands. He’s right. He has to be right. They’re probably just here for standard security. I’m being paranoid.
I can barely concentrate as our pretty, young tour guide introduces herself as Kaylee, an intern here at Gibson and full-time music student over at Vanderbilt University. She tacks on a giggle and way too much pep that grates on my fraying nerves. Her blond hair cascades down her shoulders in curly ringlets.
Kaylee leads us to the first factory stop to show us how the guitar bodies are cut from blocks of wood. I spot four more police officers—each keeping watch in a corner of the room. Watching only our tour group.
Apprehension knots in the base of my throat, and the words Abort! Abort! echo in my mind like a gong.
“This is weird, right?” I say over the squeal of the wood saw into Natalie’s ear.
She scratches her jaw with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m not sure why they’d need four different officers to keep watch over a teen tour…”
Tig suddenly shoves her phone under our noses. She’s managed to hack into the security feed, and it shows a view of the employee parking lot, where fifteen police cars are lined up.
My mouth goes dry as dirt. The three of us exchange glances.
“All right, my friends,” Kaylee says, and I almost gag. “If you look to my right…” She flourishes her dainty hand toward the guy sitting at the wood saw, gold bracelets sliding down her forearm. “My pal Jimmy over here is going to show you how we cut the neck.” She goes so far as to draw her finger across her neck and make a screeching sound.
“Not that kind of neck cutting,” Jimmy says, and they both guffaw. Jimmy takes over by describing the process, and I hustle over to Colin. “Sweet-talk that girl and try to get info out of her.”
“Okay.” He pulls himself together and struts in that confident way of his around the group and heads over to Kaylee. I stay at a distance, slinking into the shadows to prove there’s nothing going on between Colin and me if her romantic-competition radar is set to threat levels. It takes a concerted effort not to turn my head between him and the police officers who stand as stoic as royal guards. Colin says something to Kaylee, and her head instantly falls back in laughter, coral lips stretching wide.
He’s smiling, too, all eyes on her, and something turns in my stomach that wasn’t there before.
Lakshmi steps beside me. “Wait, I thought you two got back together. Why is he flirting with that chick?”
“He’s not flirting,” I say defensively, even though he totally is. He has to. “He had a gazillion questions about the guitars and couldn’t wait until the rest of the tour to ask.”
Her brows knit. “He doesn’t play, though.”
I shrug. “No time like the present to start.”
They talk. And flirt. And talk. And flirt.
An eternity passes before he comes to stand beside me again. He gives me a slight shake of his head, the universal sign for not here.
It’s not until the tour group starts to move toward the next room, where we can see at least two more police officers through the open door, that he motions for me to hang ba
ck in the empty hallway. Thankfully, no officers stand watch here, but probably because there’s nothing to steal except the door handle to the bathroom.
Colin’s voice is a whisper, so low I have to lean close to him. “There’s been a tip-off. They know someone is planning to steal the guitar, so they’ve taken precautions.”
The news hits me like a gut punch. “But—how?” I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God. Do you think the FBI knows as well? Is that why they had a checkpoint ten minutes away?”
A muscle in Colin’s jaw tightens. “I have no idea. But I have to assume so.”
“Shit.” I start pacing back and forth in front of him. “Did they know it would be today? Or do they just know it’ll happen here eventually?”
“I asked Kaylee that. She said officers were here the last few days, too. So I think they know it’s coming, just not exactly when.”
My shoulders relax a little. That means they don’t know it’s us. And maybe the FBI checkpoint is just a coincidence. The latest blotter did say the search was expanding into Tennessee.
He rakes his hand over his shorn scalp. “We have to abandon the plan. We can’t go through with it if—”
I stop him short. “No.” I press my lips together to keep the tsunami swirling in my chest at bay. “This is our only chance! If we don’t get this clue, I’ll never find my mother.”
He shakes his head. “We’ll find another way. It’s too dangerous.”
“I need to make sure I have every advantage here.” An idea rockets through my mind, and I squeeze his wrist in excitement. “And we have the advantage here. They think someone’s going to steal it from the inside, but we’re going to do it outside. We’ve already planted all the seeds in email.” I start pacing again, the idea fully solidifying in my mind. “We can do this, Colin. We’re good enough to make the switch without getting caught.”
He sputters a cough. “Were you not at the pirate ride heist? That was a disaster.”
“Because we weren’t fully prepared. We were in scramble mode for that one. But this one? We’ve had time to properly lay it all out. We’ve talked over every detail.” My words grow more confident with every syllable. “And I’ve done heists that are almost as difficult and never got caught. The only reason you got caught at school is because I meddled.”
His face looks strained as he considers. He buries his head in his hands, his shoulders shuddering. “It’s not that I don’t think we can do this. I know that under the right circumstances, we could pull this off. But—”
“I can’t let my mom down,” I snap, my voice growing harsher. “I can’t let my dad down, either, for that matter. Giving up on this clue will be doing exactly that.”
Colin’s body tenses, and he makes a muffled noise that sounds downright frightened. “But, Fiona, you don’t understand—”
The faint squeak of sneakers makes me pull my head up as a shadow elongates.
“Shh,” I hiss, but Colin must think I’m trying to shush him as part of the argument, because he keeps going.
“Doing this heist today would mean almost certainly getting caught.” His voice rises in volume, pure terror evident in his words.
I grit my teeth. “Hey, stop.”
He shakes his head, ignoring my pleas, his face growing intense. “No matter how stealthy we are. This whole place is under hyperscrutiny, but especially the guitar.”
Lakshmi rounds the corner.
“If we steal this—”
I don’t think. I just shove him to the wall and press my mouth against his in order to shut him up.
He hesitates for a second before his mouth starts to move against mine, gentle at first, but then faster, more insistent. The kiss grows deeper. The flavor of cinnamon travels into my mouth, and I curse him for tasting this good without it being premeditated.
Tingles gather along my skin as he trails his fingertips around my ear, skates along the edge of my jaw, and traces the delicate curve between my neck and shoulder. I shiver as his touch grazes all the way down my arm, leaving goose bumps in his wake. In the distance, I hear the sound of retreating footsteps.
An alert lights up in the back of my mind, big neon letters flashing Stop! The ruse is over! Instead, my own greedy fingers scramble for the bottom of his shirt and slide under to reach the bare skin of his lower back. My palms brush the knobby bones of his spine, and I smile into the pause he takes to release a tiny, shuddering breath. Our mouths reconnect, the kisses growing fiercer. Heat sweeps across my chest, radiating outward.
His teeth gently nip my lower lip, sending a wave of tingles throughout my body. Damn, he’s a good kisser.
My knees buckle when his lips abandon my mouth and drop tiny kisses along my jaw. “Hey,” he whispers when he reaches my ear, his voice velvet and soft. “If this was your attempt to disorient me so I go with your plan, it’s kind of working.”
“We’ll go with that excuse, then,” I whisper back as his fingers knot into the hair at the back of my neck. “Rather than the fact that I needed you to stop talking before Lakshmi overheard.”
He nibbles at my earlobe. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”
His lips find mine again, and this time we kiss without excuses, just the two of us finally making up for all the time we’d been conning ourselves out of what we really wanted. The kisses are slow this time. He plants gentle pecks before he pulls back to look deep into my eyes. “Do you trust me?”
There was a time when this question would have elicited a laugh. And another time when I would have hesitated, my stomach churning as I debated the answer. But now I don’t even need to think. “Yes.”
“I don’t think we need this clue. If we find the last one, maybe it’ll all be enough to figure out the entire puzzle. Tig was able to decipher the previous clue. Between the four of us, we can find your mom.”
I suck in a big gulp of air. A tear flees down my cheek, but Colin wipes it away with a sweep of his thumb. He pins me with a gaze so intense, my guard shatters to pieces, crackling onto the floor like ice shards melting. Maybe he’s right. It’s not giving up; it’s getting out of here unscathed. It’s ensuring I’m still free to find my mother and not caged behind steel bars like my dad.
“Okay.” The word scrapes across my gravel tongue. “Let me text Nat and Tig and tell them to stand down.”
He slides his hand into mine, our fingers interlocking, and tugs me back down the hallway. He doesn’t let go for the rest of the tour.
CHAPTER 22
We file onto the bus to head back to our hotel just as rain starts to splatter against the windows, a steady pitter-patter echoing in my skull. The fake guitar hangs on the back of my shoulder, useless now. I start to slide into the seat beside Colin, but Natalie plucks the back of my shirt and pulls me across the aisle from him. Tig shuffles beside Colin and plugs in her earphones.
“Details.” Natalie wags her hand toward her chest. “I needs them.”
I affect a snooty accent, lifting my nose in the air. “Whatever are you talking about.”
“Something tells me the hand-holding PDA going on wasn’t part of your ongoing ruse for Lakshmi’s benefit.” Natalie taps her lip. “Oh, I know—it’s the look on both your faces!”
“Shhh!” My eyes widen. “What look?” A bolt of lightning slashes across the sky as though to provide emphasis to my ominous question.
Natalie flicks her eyes toward Colin across the way. “That look.”
Colin’s got a goofy smile, biting his lip as he scrolls through his phone. Just the sight of him sends my stomach swirling with nerves.
“And this one.” She taps my nose.
The bus starts moving, the heavy growl of the engine roaring beneath my thighs. “I kissed him. And I want to do it again.”
Natalie clucks her tongue. “Damn it! I thought you’d hold out until next week.” She reaches into her purse, takes out a fifty-dollar bill, and throws it across the aisle toward Tig. “You won.”
I
gasp. “You bet on me? And you lost?”
She shrugs as thunder booms in the distance. “I guess Tig knows you better than I do. It must be all that observation she does.” Her voice gets stronger. “So, I’m guessing it was a good kiss?”
“The best one I’ve had, and I’m not just saying that because the only other kiss I had was with a random dude that slobbered all over my chin at a party.”
“Ah, this is so exciting,” Nat says in a dreamy way. “Me and Tig. You and Colin.”
The bus pulls into the hotel parking lot just as the rain dies down to a few drops that splash into puddles on the pavement. All of a sudden, Colin leaps over Tig and jabs a finger at the window beside Natalie. “Look. Outside,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Let me guess. It’s rain…” My voice trails off. Several black town cars are parked in the parking lot, inconspicuous, unless you’ve spent your life hiding from unmarked FBI cars. Cold panic races up my spine. I failed Criminal 101: Check your surroundings.
A man in a sharp black suit gets out of a car and stalks toward the lobby, ducking his head against the drizzling rain. Dark floppy hair and chiseled movie star face. The same face that greeted me in the middle of the night when my dad was arrested.
Colin’s dad, Ian O’Keefe.
FBI checkpoint. Heightened security at the guitar center. And now his dad, in the flesh. This isn’t a coincidence; this is an ambush.
I’m sure there are a gazillion more agents keeping watch around the perimeter. I press my palms to my temples, trying to dull the pounding there. The instant we step off the bus, we’ll be recognized.
But the fact that they didn’t arrest us on the bus or at the guitar center leads me to believe they still don’t know where we are, just that we’re nearby. They’re probably just checking every hotel in the area.
We might still have a chance to make it past them unscathed.
A whistle at the front of the bus draws our attention toward Abby. She waits until everyone quiets down. “You have two hours to relax before the special surprise tonight.”
