Don't Let Go (23 page)

“Teleporting trick?” he said with a small smile, raising an eyebrow.

Daisy shrugged. “I watched
Star Trek
.”

“You’re a Trekkie?” He came back over to the bed and plunked down beside her. “Man, that makes me love you even more.”

She punched him lightly in the arm. “I’m not a Trekkie. I just liked the movies.”

“The new ones?” He groaned. “Those don’t count.”

“Please. Chris Pine is a total hottie.”

“I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing,” he mumbled. “He’s no Shatner, though.”

“Oh my God.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dork sometimes, Teddy.”

“I love it when you call me Teddy,” he said with a small smile. “Did I ever tell you that?”

“Only, like, a million times,” Daisy said, but she flushed with pleasure. He rocked into her, bumping her shoulder. She bumped him back.

“I can’t believe I’m complaining about being locked in a bedroom with you,” he joked.

“Yeah, this is really romantic,” Daisy said wryly. “Nothing like an armed guard outside to really set the mood.”

“I know,” he said, suddenly serious. “But we haven’t really been alone, since . . . well, you know.”

He stared down at her hand as he stroked it with his thumb. The truth was, they hadn’t really been alone together since the night they’d shared a bunk in Santa Cruz. After that, they’d been with Noa and Peter 24-7. Followed by a week of sleeping on busses, and in skanky alleys and homeless camps. Their entire relationship had consisted of stolen kisses and cuddling, in between running for their lives.

Now, for the first time, they were alone.
Kind of
, she amended.

Teo cleared his throat. “Listen, I don’t mean . . . what you think I mean. We don’t have to do that.”

“Sure you did,” she said with a small smile.

Teo blushed deep red. Daisy eased her hand under his shirt and lightly skimmed her fingers across his back. He had the most amazing skin, incredibly soft. He shuddered and closed his eyes.

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

“It’s not.” He shook his head. “It’s really not. I just wanted you to know . . . I mean, just in case this is it . . . you’re the only person I’ve ever really loved. And I wish—”

A click, and the door to the room sprang open. Daisy yanked her hand back.

Pike was standing there in jeans and a polo shirt. He looked like one of those old guys in an ad for men’s cologne. He smiled and said, “I hope you both slept well.”

“We’re hungry,” Teo said, getting to his feet. “Are you ever planning on feeding us?”

Pike looked genuinely distressed. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed they’d bring you breakfast.”

“Well, they didn’t.” Daisy crossed her arms over her chest.

“My apologies.” Pike’s tone remained even as he said, “Good news, then. I came to invite you to join me for lunch.”

Teo scoffed. “Yeah, that sounds awesome.”

“It will give us another chance to talk.” He stood aside, gesturing for them to join him.

Looking at Teo, Daisy saw her own confusion mirrored on his face.
What is this guy playing at?
Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been a lunch invitation.

But at least they’d be on a lower floor; maybe they could try to run. As Teo took her hand, he leaned in and whispered, “Whatever he wants, don’t give it to him. Because the minute we do, he’ll kill us.”

She managed a small nod, although her throat had gone dry. He was right, of course. But that didn’t mean Pike wouldn’t kill them anyway, once he got tired of being stonewalled.

As they walked down the hall together, their guard fell in step behind them. Pike clapped his hands together and said, “I hope you like grilled salmon.”

“Who is it?” Noa asked breathlessly. Her chest was still heaving from the seizure. There was a blue tinge around her lips, and her pupils were seriously dilated.

“Probably the maid. Shh.” He’d pretty much carried Noa down the hallway, dragging her into the walk-in closet in the master bedroom. He’d cased it earlier; the room was immaculate, not a dust bunny in sight. He silently prayed that the Shapiros’ housekeeper was lazy by nature.

Because if she came up the stairs . . . the computers were still open, the drives scattered everywhere. He’d been extra careful with the downstairs, cleaning up their dishes and restacking them, smoothing out the couch cushions. But if the housekeeper decided to take a look around, she’d know instantly that there were intruders in the house.

A stair creaked. He drew in a deep breath. In spite of himself, he flashed back to when Mason’s maid had nearly caught him.
What is it with me and cleaning ladies?
And what would they do if she discovered them?

If that happened, he and Noa would have to grab what they could and run.

Another creak: She was coming upstairs. Hanging dresses kept brushing his face; Peter swatted them away.

Creak
.

Noa leaned against him, breathing shallowly. She let out a small moan, and Peter winced. It sounded incredibly loud in the stillness.

“Who’s there?” a frightened female voice called out.

Okay
, Peter thought with resignation.
We’re done for
. She was probably already dialing 911.

He started going over the next steps in his head. Get Noa to the car, then come back for the drives and packs. Grab the laptop: The Shapiros would already know someone had broken in, they might as well take what they needed. Food for the road. Cash.

Where the hell are we going to get cash?

He flashed back to last spring break. They’d wanted to make a beer run, but were both tapped out. Rick went upstairs, and came back with a hundred-dollar bill, boasting about his dad’s secret stash. . . .

Peter carefully eased Noa over so that she was leaning against the closet wall. He got up on the balls of his feet and started pawing through clothing; mostly women’s dresses. He crab walked to the other side of the closet, moving as silently as possible.

Please still be here
, he prayed.
Please
. Peter’s fingers fumbled along a line of hanging suits. He groped through them, feeling the lapels. Finally found one that felt satiny: a tuxedo jacket.

He dug into the right front pocket: nothing. Reached around to the left, and was relieved when his fingers closed around a wad of bills secured by a money clip.
Thank you, Mr. Shapiro
, he thought.
I promise to pay you back
.

Noa groaned again, and he winced. The sound practically echoed through the still house. He heard running footsteps downstairs, followed by the door slamming shut. Peter bit his lip.
Dammit.

He went back to Noa and slung her arm across his shoulders, then hauled her to her feet.

“Where . . . what . . . ?” she mumbled.

“I’m getting you to the car. We’re going.”

“I can walk,” she slurred.

“Great. Any help would be appreciated.” He was already huffing, and the pressure of her body weight on his sore shoulder was excruciating. He manhandled her down the stairs and into the garage. Awkwardly, he opened the Camry’s passenger door and shoved her inside. Then Peter raced back into the house, an invisible clock ticking off seconds in his mind. How long until the cops showed up? Three minutes? Four?

He threw the drives and laptop into the packs and dragged them downstairs. Grabbed another duffel from the top of Rick’s closet and tore through the pantry, shoving anything he could grab into it.

By the time he got back to the car, three minutes had passed. He threw everything in the backseat, then climbed in. The engine started on the first try: Thank God for small favors. He realized that the garage door was still down, and stumbled out of the car, frantically slapping the button to raise it.

Sirens sounded in the distance. The door opened painfully slowly while his fingers drummed the steering wheel. When the door finally cleared the rear of the car, Peter gunned the engine and threw it into reverse.

A Subaru wagon blocked the driveway; an older, heavyset woman with frizzy blond hair stood beside it. Her mouth gaped open as he tore past her, bumping onto the grass to avoid ramming her car. The accelerator climbed to thirty, then forty as he raced down the driveway. When he hit the road, he yanked the wheel right. The back of the car swerved out, nearly going into a spin before he righted it.

Peter forced himself to slow to the speed limit, blinking sweat out of his eyes. A half mile down the road, two patrol cars screamed past with lights and sirens blazing.

He glanced over at Noa. In that weird, slurred voice she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Away from here,” he muttered, checking their rearview mirror.

“Boston,” she murmured.

Peter wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. Dumbfounded, he asked, “Did you just say Boston?”

Noa nodded. “We can’t keep running. It’s time to finish all this.”

The only sound was the clink of silverware against china. Teo and Daisy sat across from each other, with Pike between them at the head of an enormous dining table. Teo had never eaten a meal like this in his life: There were cloth napkins and fancy plates. One of their guards brought out each course: bowls of soup, then salads, followed by slabs of orange fish surrounded by vegetables.

The dining room was on the ground floor, but the guards posted at each door eyed them menacingly the entire time. Which wasn’t exactly helping his digestion.

Teo had been chewing the same bite for five minutes; the acid in his throat overwhelmed his taste buds. He had no appetite and had barely touched most of the food on his plate.

When he tried to swallow, he started choking on the fish. Teo gulped water from a crystal goblet to clear it.

Looking up, he found Pike regarding him with concern. “I apologize for my chef. The salmon is a bit dry.”

Teo issued a sharp laugh. “I can’t stop thinking about Hansel and Gretel. You know, how the witch was fattening them up to eat them.”

Pike set his fork down and said with bemusement, “You can’t seriously think you’re going to be eaten?”

Across the table, Daisy snorted and muttered, “Chopping us into bits isn’t much better.”

“As I explained last night,” Pike said with a frown, “you won’t be harmed here.”

“Why keep us, then?” Teo demanded. “Why not just let us go?”

Pike looked at him levelly. “You’ll be free to go as soon as I’ve gotten what I need from you.”

“What’s that?” Daisy asked. “Our hearts? Kidneys?”

“Noa Torson,” Pike said sternly.

“So you can chop her up.” Teo tossed his fork down. It landed on his plate with a satisfying clatter. “Sure, why not. I mean, she only saved us from you.”

Pike abruptly pushed back his chair and stood. “I have something else to share with you.”

“I’m not done with my salmon,” Teo said obstinately, scooping up a piece with his fingers. He shoved it in his mouth and stared challengingly at Pike, chewing with his mouth open. “Besides, isn’t dessert coming?”

Daisy stifled a laugh. Pike glowered at him, then sat back in the chair. Teo cherished the small victory. If Pike wanted to play at being the good guy, let him. Soon enough, he’d show his true colors.

And until then, Daisy might as well get a good meal. Unlike Teo, she’d devoured everything set in front of her, even scraping the plate to get the last few bits. Teo derived great pleasure from seeing how that sound made Pike wince.

“So where are we headed after this?” Teo said conversationally. “You got a dungeon or something?”

“Torture chamber?” Daisy chimed in. “Or ooh, I know. A shark tank.”

Pike cleared his throat. “It’s about your friend, Noa. I can prove she’s sick. Dying, in fact. And my people are the only ones who can save her.”

“I bet you say that to all the street kids,” Daisy commented as she sat back in her chair and delicately wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. Teo felt a flash of pride: That was his girl. He could tell how terrified she was by the little twitch in her right eye, and the way she kept twisting her hair. But she was putting up a good front for Pike.

Pike gave her a grim smile. “I understand the lack of trust, given the circumstances. But you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”

“All right, then.” Teo tossed his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair. “I’m not in the mood for dessert anyway. Let’s get it over with.”

Noa turned over on her side and groaned: Her chest was pulsing again, it felt like the pressure was crushing her lungs. She tried to sit up, but immediately fell back against the pillows. She frowned as a mottled, dingy ceiling swam into view. “Where are we?”

Peter suddenly appeared by her side. “Hey! You’re awake!”

He sounded relieved, like he’d been afraid she wouldn’t wake up again. “How did we get here?” she whispered.

“Let’s just say it wasn’t easy,” Peter muttered. “Here. Drink.”

He lifted her head and held a glass of water to her lips. Noa wanted to protest that she wasn’t an invalid; but when she tried to lift her hands, they felt impossibly heavy. She opened her mouth and gulped down most of the glass.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Thanks.” Looking around, she saw that they were in a seedy motel room, the carpet and rug matching shades of puke green. The dingy drapes were drawn, so the only light came from the laptop that sat open on a crooked desk.

“Nice place,” she commented.

“They take cash,” Peter said defensively. “And didn’t ask for IDs. So yeah, it’s pretty much perfect.”

It all came back to her in a rush: doubling over, Peter dragging her down the hall after the maid came in. The long car ride. Peter leaving her alone, then showing up with another car and transferring her into it. “Where are we?”

“Outside Omaha,” Peter said.

She laughed. “Omaha, again? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Peter said wryly. “And guess what? It looks even worse in the daytime.”

Noa flashed back to a bus station in the middle of the night. Peter sitting on a bench waiting for them, looking small and scared in the glow of the headlights. Teo and Daisy in the front seat, while she sat in the back, digging her fingernails into her palms. Her overwhelming relief at seeing him again, knowing that she wouldn’t have to do this alone. Mingled with grief over having just lost Zeke. “Are we still going to Boston?”