Play Nice (9 page)

She nodded. At this point, any place she could change in private would do.

Two seconds when he’s not watching you. That’s all you need.

Dade strode purposefully across the walkway, his hand still firm on Anna’s arm. The front of the shop was open, racks spilling out onto the pier to entice visitors farther inside. Two college kids in Stanford sweatshirts pawed through the closest one. Dade paused, and Anna saw him doing a slow sweep of their bodies before navigating around them. A visual weapons check. He didn’t trust anyone.

A thought that made her feel both protected and deeper in danger all at once.

“Let’s make this fast,” Dade instructed, hovering next to her as Anna quickly gravitated to a rack labeled
WOMEN
. She complied, grabbing a shirt at random. It was white, proclaiming that she had left her heart in San Francisco in scrolling purple script. It would do for now.

She handed it to Dade. “This one’s fine.”

Dade’s eyes flickered to the shirt, then back up to her. “Kind of big isn’t it?”

“I’m not entering a wet T-shirt contest.”

For a half a second he looked as if he wanted to smile, but it never quite made it to his lips. Instead, he took the shirt from her, getting in line behind the college kids. When he got to the front of the line, he paid the clerk cash, exchanging only the barest minimum of words before taking their purchase and steering Anna back out of the store.

Once outside, he handed the bag to her. “Here. Knock yourself out.”

Anna pulled the shirt out of the bag and took a step toward the restrooms to the far right of the carousel.

But Dade’s grip stopped her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, pulling her into his chest.

“I need to change,” she answered, gesturing to the shirt.

He shook his head. “You can put it on here.”

“Really? You think it would be less conspicuous if I stripped down here in the middle of the pier?” Anna thrust her chest out toward him.

“Just put it on over the old one. It’s big enough.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of a clean shirt. I’m still wearing the evidence.”

Dade’s grip tightened on her arm. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”

“You wanna come with me into the women’s restroom? Because I’m sure no one will notice you there.”

Dade clenched his jaw, and she could see his nostrils flare at her sarcasm.

But she stood her ground.

“Look, I need to change. It will only take a couple of minutes.”

He paused. “Fine,” he finally spat out. “You have two minutes. You’re not out of that restroom in exactly two minutes, I’m coming in guns drawn. Understood?”

She nodded, letting him propel her forward until they reached the ladies’ room door. Women with fanny packs and toddlers in tow navigated around them as Dade paused at the entrance. His grip tightened momentarily, as if having second thoughts about letting her out of his sight. But clearly the less evidence from the shelter she carried on her person the better for them both. A point he must have realized, as he slowly let go.

“Two minutes,” he repeated.

Again she nodded in compliance before slipping through the door.

The second she was alone, Anna scanned the room for an escape route. The door she came in was the only one visible here. It was crowded, woman two deep at the mirrors, sidling awkwardly around each other to reach the sinks and automatic hand dryers. She pushed through them, surveying the row of stalls at the back wall. Ten in all, lined up along the right side of a rectangular room. No back door.

A small row of windows lined the back wall at the end of the row. But they were at least six feet off the ground. Even if she could have reached them, she wasn’t sure she could have pried through the layers of paint and grime to open one, let alone fit through.

90 seconds.

The only way out was the way she’d come in—through Dade. She bit back disappointment and pulled open a stall, eyes roving instead for anything that could be used as a weapon. Paper seat protectors, small squares of toilet tissue in a metal dispenser, bolted to the wall above a tiny metal garbage for feminine hygiene disposal. Nothing she could take with her. Nothing she could hide in a pocket.

60 seconds
.

She felt desperation begin to bubble up in her throat as she ripped her tainted clothing off, shoving the clean T-shirt over her head. She exited the stall, depositing her cast-offs in the nearest trash can beneath a pile of dirty diapers and used tissues. She was clean, but no closer to escape.

30 seconds.

Anna’s eyes shot around the busy room. Sinks were affixed to the wall on one side, hand dryers on the other. A plastic foldout diaper changing station and a metal feminine products dispenser sat on the far wall. Anna crossed to the metal machine. For ten cents she could purchase a sanitary pad or a tampon. For fifty, a single dose packet of Advil or SPF 15 sunscreen. And for a dollar, a condom or a plastic pouch of Chanel No. 5 Imposter.

Anna quickly dug into the pocket of her jeans, coming up with two fives and a one dollar bill. She pulled the one out, sliding it into the machine.

The machine spit it back out.

She smoothed the dollar on the thigh of her jeans, noticing the damp layer of sweat her palm left there as she carefully fed it into the machine again.

Again it spit the dollar out.

15 seconds
.

Desperation was an almost palpable thing, her stomach clenching, her limbs tingling, everything she had focused on keeping her hands from shaking as she took a deep breath and, with excruciating slowness, fed the bill into the machine again.

Thank God, this time, the bill stayed put.

A sigh of relief escaped her as she quickly turned the metal knob beneath the perfume photo. She heard a click inside the machine, then a second later a small plastic pouch fell out of the metal chute and into her outstretched hand. Anna shoved it into her back pocket and spun around toward the entrance.

She was two steps away when Dade’s frame filled the doorway, his hand hovering at the waistband of his pants where she knew his gun still sat concealed from view.

Anna pasted a smile on her face.

“All changed,” she told him, swallowing down fear as she let her captor lead her away again.

CHAPTER 6

The Blue & Gold Fleet was one of San Francisco’s largest tour companies on the water, with sixteen vessels including catamarans, speed boats, and Bay tour cruises. Three of those signature yellow and navy blue boats were tethered to the right side of the pier, down a level from the shops and restaurants. A rickety wooden staircase led to the water level where large, tar-coated ramps were pulled into place to allow easy access to the boats.

Anna stepped carefully over the wet surface, letting a weathered man in a pair of yellow overalls take her hand as she boarded the boat. Dade was a step behind, keeping close enough that she could feel the heat from his body at her back. It was unnerving at best, and she had to make a conscious effort not to run from him. Not that there was anywhere to run. The boat was larger than some of the fishing boats tethered to the pier, featuring both an outdoor area for sightseeing and an indoor section where guests could take refuge from the wind as they crossed the Bay to the main attraction, but packed with bodies, there was little room to navigate.

Dade steered Anna to a spot at the stern, then positioned himself with his back to the rail, eyeing each passenger as they stepped over the threshold. His eyes were shadowed behind his glasses, but Anna could tell he was watching intently, scrutinizing each face, assessing danger level.

A steady stream of people boarded, mostly families with young children and older couples. Anna dismissed them quickly. The people after her could be anyone, but considering they had little time to plan, she couldn’t see her pursuers coming up with an entire fake family to play tourist with.

A young guy with a backpack boarded, and Anna felt herself stiffen, but as soon as he pulled out a digital camera and started snapping photos of the sun-bathing sea lions on the rocks nearby, she dismissed him as a harmless amateur photographer, one of dozens who flocked to the spot each day.

Fifteen long, tense minutes later, the crew finally pulled up the anchor, and a cheery-sounding captain came over the loudspeaker.

“Welcome aboard the world famous Blue & Gold Fleet’s Escape from Alcatraz tour. I hope you’re all in for a great escape today!”

If he only knew.

Anna struggled to steady herself as the boat pulled slowly away from the dock, the engines churning up froth on the water’s surface. As the vessel sliced through the cool water, past barnacle-encrusted stilts of the pier, Dade moved from the stern, nodding Anna toward the front of the boat. Several people crowded the area, pointing out sights along the coastline, eager to be the first of their party to spot a lounging sea lion or playful otter. But as the engines picked up speed, water began to spray over the helm, covering the deck in a salty mist. Both the damp and noise of the boat slapping through the rough waters sent most of the passengers filtering inside, leaving Dade and Anna in sparse company.

Anna leaned into the chipped railing. The metal was cold beneath her palms, but she clung to it anyway, an anchor as she let her weight shift naturally from foot to foot with the rocking waves. The roar of the water drowned the conversations of the few diehards left outside to a low hum. She closed her eyes, lifting her face to the wind. Saltwater flavored her lips as her hair slapped at her cheeks, the sharp wind stinging her skin. It felt good. Like a cool, refreshing shower, physical sensation slapping away the cloud of emotions hanging over her thoughts. A sensation that was interrupted all too soon as Dade spoke beside her.

“Time to talk,” came his low voice at her ear.

She dragged in a breath of damp air, reluctantly opening her eyes again as she turned to him.

“About what?” she countered.

“Everything.”

A loaded answer. And not one she was willing to oblige, considering the circumstances.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, wishing he would take those glasses off. Wishing she could see his eyes, some hope of reading the thoughts behind his clipped words.

“Someone wants you dead, Anya.”

“Anna,” she corrected automatically. “My name is Anna.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Anya is dead,” she said. And she meant it. No matter what feelings had risen to the surface today, long thought buried, she would not let that life leak back into her world.

“That may be,” Dade responded, “but someone apparently wants Anna dead, too.” His voice was raised above the roar of the ocean, but the tone was low, even, and much more calm than Anna felt.

She didn’t answer him, instead looked past him to a point out on the water, trying not to internalize that statement.

At twenty years old, death had been an abstract. The finality of it obvious in her line of work, yet not fully real to someone who had yet to experience much life. Something to be feared in theory, with no concept of how much she’d be missing out on. Only now, having had a taste of what life could be, it was not only real, but terrifying.

“Who is after you?” Dade persisted.

She turned her eyes back to meet his. “I don’t know. God, if I knew, you think I’d be sitting here on a boat with you? I’d be out there returning the favor.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to decide if she was telling him the truth. She didn’t know what conclusion he came to, but he switched gears, asking, “Tell me about your life.”

She sighed. “Why?”

“Because you’re not very popular at the moment, and I’d like to know why.”

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“Because I don’t like complications.”

“So you only kill uncomplicated targets, is that it?”

Dade shot her a warning look. “Let me explain something to you. I ask the questions, you provide answers. That’s how this is going to work. Got it?”

She bit down the snide remark on the tip of her tongue, reminding herself how easy it would be for him to give her the slightest nudge over the railing right now and be done with her. She needed to buy time. The longer she could stave off the threat he presented, the better her chance at finding a way around it.

She pursed her lips together and nodded as demurely as she could manage. “Got it.”

“Good. Tell me about your last job.”

“What last job?”

“The last job you completed. Was it here in the states?” he clarified.

“No,” she said emphatically. “I told you I don’t do that anymore. I left that life behind.”

“Apparently not far enough behind.”

She paused. “Point taken.”

“You faked your death in Kosovo,” he said.

She nodded slowly, the memory of that day flooding back to her faster than she would have liked.