from her fear of the upcoming flight by Dylan’s strange behavior. What did he mean by asking Jack to explain the situation? Didn’t Dylan know, as well as Jack did, what was going on? This whole mess was centered around his own parents, after all.
Her brow furrowed.
“What do you mean, Dylan?” she asked softly.
“Oh, you know…” Dylan shifted and shrugged, his expression going from hard to feigned puzzlement in a second flat. He held his hands up at his side. “I guess I was just wondering about a few things,” he continued. “Like, why a quote-unquote business man who dealt in real-estate would need a secret passageway in his apartment complex and what looks like spy gear in his closet.” He settled his green eyes on Jack again. Jack didn’t move a muscle.
Dylan didn’t stop there. He went on, “and why he has a black bag full of black-ops-issue weapons on the bed in the other room.”
So, Dylan had gone exploring.
“And why he seems to have something like a dozen different men, all wearing black, working for him.” Dylan was on some sort of role now and the occupants of the house had grown unnaturally still and quiet. The air was thick with tension as Dylan continued.
“I wonder, Mr. Thane, what kind of business, exactly, it is that you do that would require no fewer than three safe houses in and around the Twin Cities area. I also found the wired limousine a little odd…” he smiled a grim smile at Jack’s raised brow. “Yes, I noticed the devices, though you tried to hide them well. I’ve read a lot of science fiction novels, Mr. Thane. I could recognize stuff a lot more sophisticated than that. And I know enough to recognize that a real-estate mogul would have no need of it.”
Annabelle’s mouth had gone dry. Her feet felt numb, her legs weak. She had, by this time, entirely forgotten about the flight to New York. She had much more immediate concerns to deal with, such as the health and well- being of everyone in the room – especially Dylan Anderson.
She could feel the presence of Jack Thane at her back like a weight, tall and dark and heavy. She found it hard to breathe.
And then Jack’s cell phone rang. No one moved, not even Jack. The air between him and Dylan felt positively charged. It almost crackled.
“Saved by the bell, Mr. Thane.” Dylan said.
Jack very slowly pulled the cell out of his inside jacket pocket and flipped it open. Amidst dead silence in the room, he spoke into the receiver.
“Thane.”
Dylan smiled smugly. But there was something dark in the teenager’s eyes.
Jack’s gaze never left his as he said, “Good. We’ll be there in fifteen.”
Desperate to diffuse the situation, Annabelle turned to face him. “Was that Sam?”
Jack hesitantly took his eyes off of Dylan to look down at her. His expression was deadpan, his blue-eyed gaze impenetrable. “Yes.”
He turned to everyone else. “Get your things. We’re heading out.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in for everyone, the last few minutes had been so intense. But, eventually, Clara stood and moved toward the hallway, walking past Dylan as she did so. Annabelle didn’t miss the dirty look she shot the kid. Dylan’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
Beatrice was the next to rise. She did so slowly, but steadily. Without a word, or a look at any of them, she followed her daughter down the hallway and to whatever room Clara had disappeared into.
Cassie got up next and, in an act that Annabelle considered infinitely wise, she moved to Dylan, took him gently by the upper arm, and pulled him off of the couch.
“Come on, Icarus. You can help me make sure we have everything we need for the trip.” Cassie forcefully turned Dylan around, who went willingly, though reluctantly, and marched him down the hallway, leaving Jack and Annabelle alone in the living room.
Annabelle looked up into Jack’s face. He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Jack, he’s just a boy.”
Jack looked at her then and his blue eyes glittered eerily in the lamplight. For what seemed like a long time, he didn’t speak. And then, softly, he said, “I know, luv.” His tone was strange. It wasn’t one she recognized.
“Get your things,” he told her then. “We have to meet Sam in ten.” He stepped around her, turning his back to her and leaving the room to move down the hall toward the last door on the left. Annabelle hugged herself. She felt cold, despite the warm central air and the fire in the hearth.
They were getting closer and Annabelle could feel it in her bones. It was like this deep buzzing sensation, riding up her legs and into her spine, causing her whole body to tremble and scattering her thoughts like bouncy balls in a mirrored room. Her teeth chattered behind her lips and her jaws ached from pressing them together in the vain hopes of making them stop.
Jack took one look in the rear-view mirror of the van they now rode in and shook his head. “You should have taken my advice, Bella.”
Annabelle shot him a dirty look. She knew he was right. She should have taken the pill he’d offered her. She was terrified to the point that it was painful. A tranquilizer would have helped. But a part of her was also afraid of being out of it or incapable of defending herself or Dylan if something happened. If they were attacked – if another pizza boy assassin came out of the woodwork while she was in a happy haze.
She just didn’t like the idea of being out of control. Not right now.
Jack pulled the van into an empty paved lot in the middle of nowhere. A few yards away, sitting alone on a vast black tarmac, waited a private white jet with blue and gold striping down its side.
Annabelle had no idea what kind of plane it was or how old it was. They all looked the same to her. One metal-winged death machine was the same as another.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” She muttered under her breath. Stars started to swim in her vision. Air was having a difficult time finding its way to her lungs. She bent over in her seat and hugged her knees, closing her eyes. “I can’t do this.”
“Jesus, Ann, you’re gonna pass out anyway. You should have taken the drugs. At least it would have been pleasant for you.” Cassie unbuckled her seat belt and knelt beside Annabelle. She patted Annabelle’s back as she spoke. “At this point, the only thing that would hit your system fast enough for it to do any good for the flight would be an injection.”
Annabelle’s back stiffened under her touch.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t have a syringe full of it anyway.” Cassie sighed.
“I do.” Jack’s voice cut through their conversation like a hot knife through butter. Annabelle sat up immediately, her face having gone utterly pale, her eyes as wide as saucers. Jack had opened the side door of the van and was waiting in the beckoning darkness.
At Annabelle’s reaction, he held up a hand in placation. “Easy, Bella. No one’s making you do anything.”
“Except get on the plane,” Dylan stated. He stood just outside of the van now, hands in his pockets. He’d exited through the back. Clara stood beside him, watching the exchange inside the van.
“Thank you once again, Dylan.” Cassie told the boy, her brown eyes narrowed into warning slits. Jack ignored him, his attention focused on Annabelle, who seemed to be hyperventilating.
“Well, well,” came a deep voice from behind Jack. Jack turned to watch a tall figure move toward him through the darkness between them and the plane. “Traveling with a goddamned circus now, are we, Jack?”
“Sam,” Jack said and turned to face him. A smile spread across his features, despite the situation. It’d been too long since he’d last seen Samuel Price. And yet, it seemed like only yesterday.
Samuel stepped into the beam of the van’s headlights and Jack got a good look at him. He hadn’t aged a day in fifteen years. And yet, he was fifty-five. How had he managed that?
His hair had grayed more, Jack supposed. Going from silver at the temples to nearly a full head of white. But his skin was as tan and clear as ever and his body looked as strong as it had the day they’d met.
“It’s good to see you, Jack,” Sam said then, his tone softer, his gray eyes twinkling. He smiled, flashing straight white teeth.
Jack moved toward him, shaking his head. “Likewise, you old bugger.” He closed the distance between them
