Notable (Smith High) (17 page)

T
he prepaid cell phones were without a doubt the best purchase I’d ever made, beating out the sea-foam-green jeans that had previously held that distinction by a landslide.

Although there’s nothing quite like a great-fitting pair of pants to increase your confidence . . . even when your
to do
list includes meeting up with a renowned drug lord/kidnapper at a holy Buddhist temple.

Okay, so
technically
I was only scouting out the location in preparation for the meeting. But delaying the inevitable until we were ready to make our move didn’t magically alleviate my stress, no matter how beautiful the atmosphere or how historic the architecture surrounding me.

It was strange knowing that if Neal had never walked into the wrong room at the worst possible time, the syllabus would have brought us to this very spot. Amy would’ve been breathing in the heavy scent of incense and laying down offerings like all the other tourists while a new guide with another unpronounceable name showed us around. Liz would have made some crack about orange robes not really being her color; Ben would’ve inevitably come up with a wildly inappropriate response that would make even Houston laugh in spite of himself. And the whole time Neal would have been encouraging us to take notes for our upcoming final.

Then he’d have taken each of us aside to make sure we weren’t struggling with life abroad.

A few weeks ago that would have been my definition of torture, and now I was daydreaming wistfully about imaginary history lectures when I needed to be prepping for my face-off with a drug cartel. Somewhere buried in this mess I suspected I had a really great college admission essay just waiting to be written.

You know, on the off chance that I survived.

The warm pressure of a hand on my shoulder halted my inspection of every nook of the temple that I intended to memorize inside and out in case one seemingly insignificant detail could give me an advantage during an escape. Pasting a warm smile on my face, I looked up expectantly at Wesley.

“I’m, um, glad you came here with me, Lake.” He spoke haltingly, as if he wasn’t exactly certain how he had ended up giving me that promised tour after the unmitigated disaster of a date we’d shared the night before. “Surprised that Aaron of all people has now suddenly decided to play matchmaker, but really,
really
glad.”

I tucked my arm through the crook of his so that we looked like just another couple of tourists strolling around the popular destination, which was part of the reason I’d asked him to join me there: Nobody pays much attention to obnoxiously happy couples. Although keeping him away from Aaron so he couldn’t ask any nosy questions like, “Why are you calling the corporate jet pilot and asking how quickly he can go wings up?” had definitely played a part in our outing as well.

It had seemed like a perfect solution at the time. We needed to get Wesley out of the hotel, and since Ben was busy flirting his way into information about Mr. Sovann from his various female employees, Liz was messaging with Jane in an attempt to keep the press apprised of the situation, and Houston was out buying emergency medical supplies in case Rithisak Sovann ignored my threat, I was the only one available to keep him occupied.

The task of playing carefree tourist would have been significantly easier if I wasn’t carting around five pounds of heroin in my tote bag. Simultaneously, I was scouting out areas public enough to make Mr. Sovann reconsider pulling out his gun but private enough to make the switch without getting caught. Not to mention, I was expected to bat my eyelashes charmingly at a guy who didn’t exactly set my pulse racing.

“I’m glad you still wanted to be seen with me after the way my colleague overreacted last night.” I released a short, self-deprecating laugh. “I can’t believe he thought I’d been drugged. I swear, sometimes I don’t think photographers can see what’s right in front of them unless it’s being filtered through a lens.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

I pushed back my red hair so that I had an unobstructed view of his earnest face. The guy was really pretty sweet, which probably meant I should feel guilty about leading him on . . . but I didn’t.

Maybe because Amy still had a chokehold on my guilty conscience.

I smiled and moved the conversation onto safer ground. “Me too. This place really is incredible. I could spend hours just soaking it all in.”

At least those words were the truth. I was avidly studying the golden Buddhas that glowed majestically in the mid-morning sunlight. In a way, I was using the temple just as selfishly as the tourists who complained bitterly about the heat and the Cambodian children who were trying to support their families by selling travel guide books to the tourists.

Except instead of looking for the best angle for a Facebook photo, I was trying to figure out how best to avoid getting shot.

I sort of hoped that would earn me at least a handful of karmic bonus points.

One arm still entwined with Wesley’s, I strolled down a semi-secluded pathway and tried my best to discreetly check my phone for missed calls. I had copied down everyone’s numbers and taped the list to the back of each cell so that if
anything
happened, help would be only a phone call away. That was the theory anyway; I wasn’t in a position to rush back to the hotel if anything else went terribly wrong.

The distance separating the hotel from the temple was actually something of a relief. I could see why the others hadn’t wanted to do the negotiating: It was hard knowing that if something went wrong, you were the one who had been unable to fix it. That you’d be forced to spend the rest of your life what if–ing yourself straight to the therapist’s office, which Houston already thought I needed.

Please ring with good news
.

“Wat Phnom is the tallest religious structure in this city,” Wesley told me as he tugged me flush against his side.

“That’s fascinating.” I glanced down at my phone.

“We’re only a few miles away from Wat Botum. We could go there next, if you want?”

“Mmm,”
I murmured noncommittally.

“Pol Pot lived there for a while as a kid. Apparently, he was really well liked. Creepy, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Or we could go back to the hotel and have wild monkey sex?”

“Uh, sure,” I said vaguely. Then I registered his words. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a bit . . . distracted.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

I looked sheepishly up at Wesley. “It’s a work thing. I’m expecting a call and until I get it—” I shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m having trouble staying in the moment.”

“I know a great way to fix
that
.” He leaned in close and kissed me.

It wasn’t bad.

In fact, I would even categorize it as solidly decent.

Most of my girly parts that usually take notice when an attractive guy kisses me responded. I felt . . . warm, or at least
lukewarm,
but not exactly all hot and bothered. And it was nothing compared to the jolt I had felt only yesterday when Houston had kissed me right on the edge of the makeshift dance floor.
That
had been . . . unreal.

Although Houston definitely could’ve taken a lesson from Wesley about the proper way to end a kiss, which was with glazed eyes and a grateful smile.

“Um,
wow
.”

Oh yeah, I hadn’t lost my touch.

Wesley grinned at me. “So does this mean we don’t need to talk about the guy from last night? Your work buddy, right?”

My phone finally rang.

I never expected I’d be relieved to get an update on the status of an evil drug lord.

I didn’t even let it reach the second ring.

“What’s going on?” I demanded into the phone while my heart finally began to pick up the pace. “Is everyone okay?”

Ben’s voice crackled into my ear. “You’re not going to believe this, but I just caught a glimpse of Neal being frog-marched through the lobby. He looks like he’s been through hell, but at least he’s here and he’s breathing. That’s all that matters right now.”

“I completely agree.” I glanced up at Wesley and chose my words carefully. “Any idea what caused such a sudden shift?”

“I guess your threat rattled Mr. Sovann into acting faster than anyone expected. The guy is mega-wealthy, so maybe he keeps the private plane around just for this reason. You know, the trusty
in case I’m blackmailed and need to fly someone to Phnom Penh
plane.”

I struggled not to smile. “Of course. I guess we should have considered that possibility.”

“I think we should move up our whole timetable. Call him right now and see if you can catch him off guard.”

“But . . . you do realize that we need to make sure this thing goes off without a hitch, right?” I blurted. “Our team isn’t even in place yet!”

I had just enough presence of mind to stick to vague pronouns, because no matter how entrancing my kissing skills, Wesley would probably start paying attention if I dropped the name of the hotel owner into my conversation.

“You mean the reporters Jane promised would get here today? Funny story, they got in early too. I did just tell you that you weren’t going to believe me.”

Only Ben would waste time making jokes in the midst of a hostage crisis, but his tone lost its lightheartedness when he said, “It’s time for you to make your move, Chelsea. We need Sovann out of the hotel for as long as you can manage. Starting right now. So when you get him there . . . stall.”

“I understand.” My mouth turned painfully dry as if I had just tried to eat five saltine crackers. “I’ll make the call right now.”

“Good. Give him hell, Chelsea.”

Ben hung up, and I tried to hide my panic by pretending to have found the disturbance annoying instead of life threatening. I tossed up my hands in mock disgust.

“Work crisis. I’ll only be a minute.”

I started dialing before he could suggest that we both try to kick back and take the day off work . . . or something equally ridiculous. It was funny because Wesley struck me as a workaholic type, but he wouldn’t stop talking about how lucky we were that the hotel owner had asked for a temporary recess in the middle of negotiations.

Yeah, not so lucky for me, actually. Or Amy.

“Hello, sir,” I formally greeted the drug lord when he picked up on the third ring. I found myself missing the feel of Houston’s hand squeezing mine, but I forced myself to stay on task. I couldn’t afford any distractions when I needed to be at the top of my game. So I glanced skyward one more time for good measure so that Wesley would know that I’d
much
rather spend the day exclusively with him.

And I tried incredibly hard not to let Rithisak Sovann sense my fear over the phone.

The accented voice that replied was going to haunt my nightmares for years. “I have the man. You want him in one piece, we meet now.”

I nodded like a demented bobblehead. “Shall we meet at Wat Phnom temple in, say, thirty minutes? Does that give you long enough to get here?”

Wesley stiffened, and I hoped that Aaron didn’t need any more alone time to make those phone calls of his. I couldn’t bring my fake date with me to a hostage exchange with a brilliant psychopath.

“We conduct our business at the hotel,” Rithisak insisted hoarsely.

“Neutral ground is so much better for everyone. Less room for either party to renege on the arrangement.”

Silence. God, his silences were effective at rattling me.

At that moment I wanted to agree to anything he said rather than risk piquing his anger, except Ben had specifically told me to lure him away from the hotel. Probably because getting him away from his base of operations was the fastest way to split up his forces.

The only downside was that it left me dangling in the wind too.

Still, Ben had sounded determined, not scared, on the phone. This time it was my turn to go on blind faith and take the plunge.

It helped knowing that Rithisak Sovann had wanted to make the exchange badly enough that he’d bribed the Cambodian police and dragged Neal out from whatever cell he’d been rotting in. He wouldn’t back out now over the inconvenience of meeting a few miles away from his precious hotel.

“Let’s meet by the shrine for the statue-finding lady.” I probably would’ve sounded a lot smarter if I had remembered the woman’s name, but details like that tend to allude me even when I’m
not
negotiating with people who probably want me dead.

“Fine. Be ready to make the exchange.”

“I look forward to seeing you soon, sir.”

He disconnected, leaving me in the decidedly uncomfortable position of having to explain to my date that my work-related crisis required my immediate attention. Oh, and that I would
completely
understand if he didn’t want to stick around.

If I happened to leave out the little detail that I was about to become an international drug dealer, well . . . some secrets are better off kept that way.

H
e was right on time.

Apparently, punctuality was one of the few values this particular drug lord was a stickler for upholding. And here I’d assumed that anyone who made their living in less-than-legal enterprises would have an equally flexible relationship with deadlines.

Not so much.

It unnerved me to realize that we hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries and I had already underestimated him once. It didn’t exactly inspire much confidence in my ability to proceed with our swap, especially when I saw that the few photos I had found of him online hadn’t done him justice. They had all been portraits that featured him smiling in a “Welcome to Cambodia, foreign investors!” kind of way.

He wasn’t smiling now.

Instead, he was bearing down on the relatively secluded shrine with a scowl firmly entrenched on a face that didn’t betray his age. His jet-black hair was cut with razor precision, and I knew even from a distance that his watch alone could pay ten times over for our stay at the Royal Continental Hotel. Even more impressive than the obvious display of wealth was the way he radiated power—a
don’t mess with me
air of authority.

And I didn’t want to mess with him. I really,
really
didn’t.

Especially when I caught sight of Neal being shoved forward by the thugs on either side of him. The vicious blows he’d taken back in Siem Reap clearly hadn’t been the only ones he had received; Neal’s normally expressive face was swollen red and mottled black and blue.

The beaten, run-down man in front of me didn’t look foolishly optimistic anymore . . . but when he saw me, standing only a few feet away from a statue of the Lady Penh, he yelled out a hoarse warning.

My stomach clenched as one of the thugs delivered a stunningly powerful punch to Neal’s gut, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet the professor’s eyes. That would be the fastest way for me to entirely lose control of my emotions. Neal needed me to keep it together . . . and so did Amy.

I just hoped the others were doing a much better job of rescuing her.

And that someone would be hurrying this way to provide me with some desperately needed backup.

“Hello, sir.” I bowed my head respectfully the instant Rithisak came close enough for us to speak without drawing attention to ourselves. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

He examined me closely before speaking, his gaze lingering on my every attribute like I was a thoroughbred horse being scrutinized before a big race. I half expected him to demand to see my registration papers.

He also didn’t appear even mildly disconcerted by Neal’s pain-filled wheezes. “I fulfilled my end of the arrangement. I hope you were also true to your word.”

I nodded and gripped my tote even tighter. “I have it stashed nearby.”

“You appear to have overlooked part of our arrangement. I don’t see my messenger with you. Where is she?”

Neal gasped and tried to lurch forward.
“Run, Chelsea!”

I desperately shook my head, hoping that signal would be enough to keep him from speaking again, but the fist that plowed into his rib cage was probably a more effective deterrent. The resounding crack of broken bones only ratcheted up the noise inside my head until it became a hot, twisting mess beyond my control. The keening scream that barely escaped through Neal’s swollen lips shredded me. I felt empty. Strung out.

Terrified.

A tourist nearby gasped in horror, but she quickly ducked out of sight so that she couldn’t be pulled into my mess. I didn’t blame her for not sticking around. She hadn’t signed up for hero duty, and since this wasn’t the kind of adventure abroad she could brag about to her quilting group I doubted she would be returning with help.

“I know what I’m doing, Neal.” I tried to infuse my words with a confidence I didn’t feel. “Mr. Sovann and I have an understanding.”

Ben better have had a good reason for asking me to stall.

“However, I
am
confused about the absence of my messenger. Did I not make myself clear enough on that point?”

It was hard to tell because of all the swelling, but I thought Neal’s eyes became even more frantic as he tried to mouth the question,
Amy or Liz?

“Give me the Buddha and then we can negotiate for her.” Rithisak Sovann’s lips twisted upward at the ends into a rough version of a smile.

“That’s
not
what we agreed!”

His expression didn’t waver as his hand disappeared in his suit jacket only to reemerge with a handgun that looked fully capable of shutting me up. Permanently.

“I’m keeping the girl.” Rithisak took three confident strides toward me and then ran one long, elegant finger down my cheek and hooked it beneath my chin in a dispassionate examination. “I may even keep you. Now give me the package.”

This would’ve been a
really
great time to utilize some sneaky maneuver I had been holding back in reserve. In the Hollywood version of my life, my ballet training would allow me to gracefully execute a perfect
grand jeté
to the evil drug dealer’s face.

Too bad real life never works out that way.

Instead, I stood there frozen. And the only thing I could think was a resounding
Holy crap!

Seriously.

Nothing profound about the meaning of life or the importance of family or all the things I should have said or done but hadn’t. No regrets about Logan. Or Jake. Or even Houston, for that matter.

Just . . .
holy crap.

“Uh, okay. Fine. Keep her!” I said desperately, my eyes never straying from the barrel of his gun. “Would I like her back? Yes. Finding good help isn’t easy. I’m sure you can relate to that in your line of business. But she’s not worth this much trouble. So . . . whatever. All yours.”

Okay, so now
that
was the biggest lie I had ever told. No way would I calmly accept letting that creep get his hands on Amy again. Ben, Liz, and Houston were going to ensure it for me. But Mr. Sovann seemed to have no trouble believing that the panic-stricken girl in front of him would willingly sell out a glorified assistant if it meant saving her own skin.

“Why don’t you, uh, put that down so we can talk?” I said hopefully.

He lowered his gun only slightly, but I didn’t doubt for a second that he could have it jammed against my throat before I sucked in the breath to scream. He may have wanted the drugs badly enough to fly Neal into town, but nothing was valuable enough for him to allow someone else to call the shots. Especially if that someone else was a seventeen-year-old ballerina-in-training. I was just lucky he hadn’t decided to lodge a bullet into some “non-essential” part of my body in order to teach me a lesson about interfering with other people’s affairs.

Although I couldn’t shake the horrible suspicion that my current lack of bullet holes was probably a calculated decision based on the profit margin between uninjured sex slaves and their crippled counterparts.

That thought didn’t exactly help me keep it together.

“No more talking. Give me the package.” Rithisak flicked the gun at me like a composer leading his orchestra with a baton. “Now.”

But I couldn’t . . . not when Neal was alive and two feet away from me. All I had to do was keep him that way. To trust in Ben and keep stalling.

“You release him, and I will make sure you get the heroin. Simple.”

I couldn’t handle it.

Neal and I both knew exactly what was coming. He even braced himself for the thug’s retribution, but that didn’t make it any easier for me to watch him crumple under the force of the blow. To see it coming and be absolutely unable to prevent it from happening . . . that’s when I completely lost it.

It was like some essential part of me snapped.

“He’s not wrong,” Rithisak said calmly, as if he’d politely told Neal to raise his hand before speaking next time. “I can’t let my rivals think a silly little girl can undermine me. Especially now that I’m handling a new product.”

Then he chuckled, not in a supervillain
I shall plot world domination while I twirl my mustache
kind of way—that at least would have allowed me some room for levity in the midst of this completely un-funny situation. No, this laugh was legitimately terrifying because it didn’t sound even remotely calculated. The man was actually taking
pleasure
in watching my face blanch with every strike Neal received.

He was enjoying this twisted game with me because he saw it as a temporary amusement. I was just a little bit of sport to him. A fleeting diversion that would never become a serious threat because I wasn’t going to leave our little meeting alive.

Whatever plan Ben was using sure had one enormous flaw in it.

There was no backup on the way for me. I was screwed. Damned if I handed over the drugs and equally damned if I didn’t.

My fingers slid into my tote and clutched the Buddha that had landed all of us in this mess. A sense of inevitability settled over me. I was going to die. That much had become painfully clear when I had first looked down the barrel of the gun. Rithisak Sovann was going to have no moral reservations to prevent him from pulling the trigger. He wouldn’t start making exceptions based on my age and gender.

I tipped my face up toward the sun I saw so infrequently back in Portland and tried to accept the situation.

It was a beautiful place to die. I could almost taste the incense that saturated the air around the temple. Idly, I wondered if my funeral would be held in this very spot or if my mom would insist on having it back in Forest Grove. It didn’t matter much to me either way. No doubt somebody would point out that my tragic fate could’ve easily been avoided if I hadn’t tried to coast through life on my looks. If I had only been a little more interested in textbooks instead of tutus. I had no trouble imagining my mother standing above my grave, wailing, “This is all your fault, Paul! If you hadn’t coddled her—”

She might not be able to directly inform me of her disapproval, but I seriously doubted that would stop her from publicly expressing it. At least she would have the satisfaction of being right about her only daughter’s ineptitude to keep her warm at night.

Except that was such
bullshit
.

The more I thought about my impending death, the more pissed off I became until I was inwardly seething. I didn’t deserve this. Okay, so maybe my reign as the Queen of the Notables meant I had some bad karma stockpiled with my name on it back at Smith High School. But even at my bitchiest I hadn’t done anything to merit
this
. Even the psychopathic drug dealer had no reason to criticize my behavior considering that
I
had contacted
him
trying to return his missing merchandise. And what did I get for all my effort?

Most likely, one shallow Cambodian grave.

The cool wooden body of the Buddha felt right clutched in my fist. Maybe I wasn’t going to make it out of this particular mess alive, but it wouldn’t be for nothing. And I was going to drag out every second for as long as was humanly possible before I enacted my very last act of revenge.

Mr. Sovann was in for a big surprise if he thought I would docilely await my death sentence. Maybe it was the young-high-school-girl thing I had going for me, but he was seriously underestimating just how much hell I could raise when cornered. A misconception I had every intention of using to my advantage.

I wasn’t going down without a fight.

“So how do you see this playing out? I hand you the drugs and you sell me as a sex slave? That doesn’t seem like a fair deal to me.”

Another one of those low chuckles was his only immediate response. The sound didn’t bother me as much this time. The more he snickered at my naïveté the less he would expect of me.

But that didn’t mean I’d expect any less of myself.

For the first time I really, truly, swear-on-whatever-holy-book-you-want, didn’t care that I was being dismissed as nothing more than an ornamental object. Maybe I wouldn’t become a Rhodes scholar anytime soon, but at that moment I wouldn’t have traded my ability to keep cool under pressure even for all the answers to the redo SAT test my mom would have undoubtedly made me take back in Oregon.

No textbook could teach that particular skill.

And maybe it was petty and vindictive to make destroying Rithisak Sovann’s precious Buddha my very last mission in life . . . but I was surprisingly okay with that. Just as long as I could get Neal out of there first.

“I have a better punishment in mind for you.”

I raised one sardonic eyebrow. “You want me to stick around as a devoted ass-kisser? Oh, right. I forgot. You already have a pair of those.”

As long as he planned to hurt me, I saw no reason to be polite to the jerk.

“Seriously, guys, I don’t care how much he’s paying you. So not worth it.”

The disdain radiating from his eyes would have been petrifying if I’d had any spare room for fear. My anger did such an excellent job of insulating me from every other emotion, I gave him my sunniest smile.

“You foolish little idiot!” he snapped. “You don’t even know what you carry, yet you dare to lecture
me!
”

Some distant part of my brain registered that there was something seriously off about his little rant—something besides the way his ego was spinning out of control. I didn’t know what I carried? Sure I did.