Hell Bent

Annabelle walked quickly beside Jack and glanced over at his ex-wife. She was mostly being held up by her ex-husband, but she managed to get one foot in front of the other, even if her eyes were closed most of the time. Annabelle wondered if she knew too. She wasn’t demanding to know why they’d suddenly gotten up and departed in a hurry, leaving her teenage daughter and a thirty-year-old stranger behind to fight loudly over a big-titted Dallas blonde who didn’t really exist.

So, maybe she knew after all. Maybe this wasn’t the first time Jack had put his family through something like this.

Maybe, Annabelle thought, that’s why she divorced him.

Jack glanced over at that moment and caught Annabelle’s gaze. She blushed. She felt almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking. She tore her gaze away to find that they’d managed to make it all the way back to the limo.

Jack pressed a button on the key fob in his pocket and the doors unlocked. Annabelle took Beatrice’s arm, gently pulling the woman out of Jack’s grip. He let her go and made his way to the front of the car, claiming the driver’s seat. The rest of the crew piled into the back. Cassie helped Trinity with the twins while Dylan put his hand on Beatrice’s head to help her duck into the cabin of the car.

When all of the doors were shut and everyone was safely inside, Jack pulled out of the lot.

No one spoke for a long time.

And then Cassie took a deep breath and blew it out in a loud sigh. “So, I guess we’re going to New York.” She turned to Annabelle and fixed her with a meaningful gaze. “Kind of a long drive, Ann.”

“That’s why we’re flying,” came Jack’s voice over what sounded like an intercom system that had been wired throughout the car.

Annabelle narrowed her gaze. “Like hell we are.”

Chapter Eleven

“No, Jack. No way. No how.” Annabelle put her hands on her hips and stared Jack down. She was standing in the back yard of a two-story house on a quiet neighborhood block in Ham Lake, a suburb city north of Minneapolis. Only she and Jack were outside, the rest of the group having congregated around the refrigerator and bar in the open kitchen and living room on the other side of the sliding glass doors. The night air was cool and the grass was wet with dew.

“You know it’s our only option, Bella. We need to get there before Max’s killers get there and we can’t go without you.” Jack stood opposite her, his hands likewise on his hips, his expression pleading.

“I said no.”

He tried to reason with her. “You would let everything Max and his wife died for fall into the wrong hands just because you are afraid of fly- ”

“No, Jack. Not afraid – terrified. Planes make no sense, for Christ’s sake! Big, heavy metal objects with little bitty wings that don’t even flap! How the hell does it even stay up there! No. Not me. Not now. Not ever.”

“You could get plastered.”

“Not plastered enough.”

“Take your Vicodin.”

“I’d still know, Jack. I’d still know that the engine could die at any minute and that you can’t just pull the frickin' plane over on a cloud and hop out and peek under the hood like you can a god- forsaken car, Jack!”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t care.”

Annabelle glared at him. She took a slow, deep breath and exhaled through her nose.

Jack took the opportunity to target her soft spot. “Dylan is depending on you, Bella. He’s lost both of his parents. Are you going to let him-”

“Oh, don’t even go there, Jack!” Annabelle let out a sound of frustration and threw her hands up. She turned away from him and pinched the bridge of her nose. Jack didn’t say anything else, but then, he didn’t have to. Annabelle knew he was right. Even if Jack didn’t really care about Dylan Anderson, the truth was, Annabelle did. Jack had hit her where it hurt.

When she turned back around to face him, he was waiting expectantly, his hands on his hips, his blue eyes blazing. She sighed, but it came out shaky.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Jack. I might freak out on you mid-flight.”

He considered her words a moment and then sighed as well. “Not a problem, luv. I think I’ve got just the thing.” He offered her his hand, and she hesitantly took it, feeling as though she was tentatively taking the hand of the devil. He smiled a smile that didn’t help assuage that notion and then led her into the house.

When they closed the sliding glass door behind them and re-entered the kitchen, Annabelle was surprised to see Clara seated on the edge of the kitchen counter, her shoes propped up on one of the stools, Dylan seated across from her on the counter beside the fridge. Annabelle’s brow lifted.

Clara noticed the surprised expression. “All ri’?”

Annabelle blinked. “Umm…”

“She means, ‘hi, how are you, and why are you surprised to see that she suddenly appeared in the kitchen when the last time you saw her, she was getting into a fight with one of my men at the airport.”

Clara blinked, brows risen, and cocked her head to one side, her gaze flitting from her father to Annabelle. Annabelle smiled and blushed.

“Cor, da’, no need ta get narked. I get the point.” She turned to Annabelle again. “Sorry, Miss Drake.”

“Clara is familiar with this house and… unfortunately, with the little act she pulled in the terminal.”

“I was aces, yeah? Alex wasn’t too shabby either. Once we agreed to leave the airport, they let the cuffs off and Alex got us a ride. We drove around for a while to throw any taggers off and, then bob’s your uncle, here we are!” Clara smiled a brilliant, white smile and winked at Dylan, who tried to act cool about it but was very obviously blushing beneath his calm demeanor.

Jack didn’t say anything. Annabelle watched him carefully. There was a carnival of thought going on behind his shaded blue eyes.

“Right, then!” Clara jumped down from the counter and brushed her hands on the legs of her jeans. “I’m off to spend a penny.” She brushed past her father and Annabelle and headed through the living room, where a hallway led to a bathroom and two bedrooms beyond.

“Spend a penny?”

“Use the restroom.”

“Oh.” Annabelle ran a hand through her hair. And then she stopped. She’d been temporarily distracted from their previous conversation and the source of her extreme agitation, but it came crashing suddenly back as the thought of getting into a tin can with teensy wings and rocketing to 37,000 feet sent a horrible chill down her spine and formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach.

“Come with me, Bella.” Jack gently grabbed her by the upper arm and steered her through the living room, down the same hallway through which his daughter had just disappeared.

They moved to the last door on the left and Jack turned the knob. He led Annabelle inside and closed the door behind them. Then he released her and moved to the black bag that sat at the edge of the bed. He leaned over, unzipped it, and pulled a small black bottle from an interior pocket. He turned to face her.

Annabelle watched as he opened the bottle and shook a pill out into the cap. It was small, round, and white, with a single line down its center. To Annabelle, it looked like an aspirin. And felt like something much more sinister.

“Drugs, Jack? I didn’t think you were a fan.”

His eyebrow shot up and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. “I’m not, luv. These aren’t for me.”

Annabelle’s brow furrowed. And then she straightened. “Oh…” She looked from him to the pills in his hand and, at once, recognized them for what they were.

Murder weapons.

“You want me to take something that you were planning on using on one of your marks, Jack?” Again, her hands were on her hips. They seemed to have taken up residence there. “Poison?” Her