Splintered (26 page)

“Hi, this is Tiffany from the outreach center. Dr. Fritzwald asked me to call you.”

“About what?” Noah asked in confusion.

“Who is it?” Byte mouthed.

Noah covered the phone with his hand. “It’s the center,” he told him, and Byte relaxed back into his chair.

“Dr. Fritzwald would like to know if you’d mind bringing the lecture notes from the last presentation you gave when you come in today.”

“Okay, but did he say why?”

“No, sir, only asked me to call.”

“Sure, no problem. Let him know I’ll bring them.”

“Thank you, have a good day.”

The line went dead. Noah studied the phone for a moment. He was sure he’d given Dr. Fritzwald a copy of his lecture. Noah shrugged it off, then hit the Off button and slid the phone into his pocket. Obviously he’d forgotten, and considering all the shit that had been going down, it didn’t surprise him. Hell, he’d be lucky if that was all he’d forgotten.

“What’s up?”

Noah jumped up off the bed and rummaged through his bag looking for the USB drive with his lecture notes.

After checking all the compartments and still not finding it, he huffed out a frustrated breath. “Dammit. I gotta run to my apartment and grab something before I see patients today.”

“I can’t let you go. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without Hutch,” Byte reminded him.

Noah checked the clock. He had less than an hour to be at the Behavioral Health Center, and he still needed to shower, finish his notes, and stop by his place. Noah slid his files into his backpack and grabbed some clean clothes and his shaving kit.

“I got to,” Noah insisted. “I forgot to give the notes from my last lecture to Dr. Fritzwald. I won’t get credit for it if I don’t turn them in.”

“Can’t you wait till he gets back?”

“I don’t have a lot of time. He has until I get out of the shower.”

“Noah—”

Noah stopped at the door to the bathroom. “Look, Byte, I’m sorry, but I didn’t spend the last eight years of my life working on my degree to throw it away now,” he informed Byte adamantly, then rushed to get cleaned up without waiting for a response.

Noah set the taps on the shower and shucked out of his clothes. Draping a towel over the curtain rod, he stepped into the hot spray. He understood Byte’s reserve, hell, he even understood Hutch’s worry under the circumstance. No one knew how CS would respond to Hutch calling him out in the media, only that he would. Noah wasn’t taking the threat lightly, but he also wasn’t going to allow it to determine his future or ruin what he’d worked so hard to obtain.

Ten minutes later, shaved, teeth brushed, and dressed, Noah stepped out of the bathroom to find Byte standing next to the door. Noah sat on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on.

He looked up at Byte. “Seriously? You’re going to try and stop me, Byte?”

“No, but since Hutch isn’t answering his phone and you’re adamant about going, I’m going with you.”

Relieved he wasn’t going to have to fight his way out of the room, Noah tied his shoes, then grabbed his backpack. “Thanks, man. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.”

“I know,” Byte responded, shrugging one shoulder. “That’s why I’m not stopping you. And you know I could.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Noah chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Are you doubting me?” Byte asked, sounding offended as he opened the door and held it for Noah, although his eyes were twinkling with laughter.

“Not even a little bit,” Noah pacified and stepped out into the hall. He checked both ways, finding it empty—he wasn’t a complete idiot—and headed for the elevator, Byte close at his side.

Noah stabbed the button to call the elevator and then looked over at Byte, who was scanning the area with a critical eye. “You think we should leave a note for Hutch and Granite?”

“Good idea.”

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival. “Just text him,” Noah suggested and stepped in. “Or better yet, don’t. I bet we can get to my place and back before they even know we were gone.”

Byte stepped into the elevator with him, a thoughtful expression on his face. As they headed down to the lobby, Byte must have reconsidered. He pulled his phone out and typed out a text before they even reached their destination.

“Chickenshit,” Noah laughed as he stepped out into the lobby.

“Yeah well, you don’t have to live with him,” Byte reminded him as he shoved his cell into his pocket.

I wish.
Noah could think of worse things than starting and ending each day with Hutch. He couldn’t think of anything better.

They fell silent as they made their way out of the hotel, both watching for…. Noah wasn’t sure what, since he had no idea who was watching them. Still, he was very much aware of his surroundings and didn’t relax until he was sitting in the passenger seat of the car.

As they pulled out into heavy morning rush hour traffic, Byte cursed. “I hate this town,” he muttered and laid on the horn as a car cut him off within seconds of pulling out of the parking lot.

“So you have no plans to take up permanent residence here in our great Windy City?”

“That would be a big fat no! Don’t get me wrong, I normally enjoy Chicago, it’s got some of the best restaurants and boutiques in the country, but I can only handle all this hustle and bustle for so long.”

“You get used to it,” Noah assured him.

“Don’t want to. Have you ever thought about moving out to the country, somewhere—Fuck you too, buddy,” Byte yelled at the taxi driver who blew his horn and cut Byte off. “—quiet?”

“I could see where that might be appealing,” Noah chuckled.

They rounded the corner on the street Noah’s apartment complex was on and crept along at a snail’s pace, each tick of the clock pushing Noah’s anxiety higher and higher. He’d already called in enough favors; he simply couldn’t be late today.

“Any way we can park and walk from here?” Noah asked a block from his building.

“You find a parking spot, and I’ll be more than happy to pull over.”

The chances of finding one at this time of day was about as likely as winning the lottery. Noah glanced down at his watch. He now only had thirty minutes to get to the center.

Before thinking better of it or giving Byte time to stop him, Noah jerked the handle and jumped from the car. “I’ll be back before you even make it to the building.”

“Goddammit, Noah! Get back here.”

The last part of Byte’s demand cut off when Noah slammed the door shut and took off at a dead run. He wasn’t blowing smoke up Byte’s ass; he really could be in and out before Byte made it to the light at the end of his building. Dodging and weaving his way through the early morning commuters without any mishaps, he rushed through the front door of his building.

“Hey, Carl,” he called out as he passed the front desk.

“Morning, Noah.”

Noah shoved open the door to the stairs and bolted up as he dug in his pocket for his keys. By the time he made it to his door, he was out of breath and it took him two tries to get the key in the lock. As soon as the door was open, he rushed to his desk, going through the stacks of papers looking for the ones he needed.

Noah knew in a flash he’d fucked up when he heard the click of the deadbolt. Heart hammering, Noah straightened and turned around slowly. His heart stopped dead in his chest when he found the barrel of a gun pointed at his head.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker.”

Chapter 25

I am the musician. Each flick of my wrist—slide of steel or press of fire—produces a unique sound. Together they create a pleasant harmony that flows along my nerve endings, igniting me.

W
ITH
EACH
slap of rubber to tread, Hutch tried his best to let the stress in his body go. But no matter how fast he ran, how hard he breathed, the coiling tension in his gut and chest refused to let go. He ran until his legs were shaking, his breathing was labored, and still it held him. He stabbed the Off button on the treadmill and angrily snatched up the towel from the bench. He ran it over his face and then down his chest. As he tossed it aside and went to grab his bottle of water, he noticed his cell phone blinking.

“This is Hutchinson.”

“Good morning, Special Agent Hutchinson.”

Hutch glanced at the display on his cell—
Blocked call
. “Who is this?”

“Be a dear and tell Byte Noah will no longer be needing his services.” The phone line went dead.

Hutch’s blood ran cold as he stared unblinking at the silent phone.

“What is it?” Granite asked in alarm.

Dread rushed into Hutch’s soul as adrenaline surged through his veins. “I think he has Noah,” he uttered disbelievingly.

“What?”

With trembling hands, Hutch hit the speed dial button for Byte as he grabbed his weapon from the tray on the treadmill and slid the holster on. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he growled as he headed for the door, even before the phone began to ring.

“What the hell is going on?” Granite demanded, chasing after him.

“Hey, Hutch, I’ve been trying to get hold of you,” Byte answered.

“Where are you? Is Noah with you?”

“I… ummm… I….”

Hutch shoved through the door to the stairs. “Goddammit, Byte, is he with you?”

“Didn’t you get my text? Noah got a call—”

“Is he fucking with you?” Hutch roared.

“He ran up to his apartment to get some papers. I’m sitting in the car outside his building. What the hell is going on?”

Hutch’s heart fell to his gut. “He’s got him.”

“Wait, what? That’s impossible. Noah’s only been out of the car a couple of minutes, five, tops.” Byte sounded baffled.

“He’s fucking got Noah! Now get your ass in there and get him. I’m on my way.” Hutch slid his cell into his pocket as he ran through the hotel, securing his holster as he went.

“The killer? He has Noah? But how?” Granite asked dazedly.

“I don’t know. Byte mentioned something about Noah getting a call,” he tossed back as he ran. Hutch tried desperately not to think about what the son of a bitch was doing to Noah. He needed to focus. Had to get to him.

He slammed into a woman as he rushed through the double doors, cursing as she went tumbling. “Sorry,” he shouted without slowing down. The traffic outside the hotel was at a standstill, and he made his way around cars, then across the road to the parking deck on the other side.

“We’ll never get there in this traffic,” Granite ground out.

Hutch jerked to a halt. “Fuck!” he growled as he wildly scanned the streets.

Granite stood next to him, panting harshly. “It will take forever in this traffic, and it’s too far to run.”

Hutch spun in a circle, desperately looking for an option. “Goddammit!” he howled.

“You got your badge?” Granite asked.

“No!”

“Me neither, guess I’ll have to use this,” he said gleefully and pulled his service revolver. He rushed ahead, tossing over his shoulder, “What the hell are you waiting for?”

Hutch had no idea what Granite was up to, but it had to be better than standing with his dick in his hand doing nothing, so he followed.

“FBI,” Granite shouted at a rider on a motorcycle. “I’m commandeering your vehicle.”

Oh, he was so going to kiss Granite, right after he got Noah back and kicked Byte’s ass.

The rider turned his head, his face hidden by the dark shield on his helmet, but didn’t step off the bike.

“I said, motherfucking FBI, asshole,” Granite growled and pressed the barrel of his gun against the stunned rider’s chest.

Hutch didn’t wait for the man to comply; he grabbed the guy’s jacket in both hands and slung him from the bike.

Hutch hopped on the bike, and as soon as Granite threw his leg over the back of the seat, Hutch took off. Granite said something, but Hutch couldn’t hear him over the roar of the cycle’s engine and the blaring horns.

N
OAH
SWALLOWED
down the cold fear that settled in his throat and robbed him of his voice. He swallowed again painfully, but still he couldn’t force the words up past his dry throat. He cleared his throat again and again as he was forced to keep walking by means of a barrel pressed against his spine, opposite his heart.

“Well….” Noah cleared his throat again when his voice came out more like a squeak, refusing to show fear. “Now we know how he got in without being seen on video.” Noah commented, voice stronger as anger began to bubble up brighter than the fear.

“Just keep walking,” Drew McCormick demanded and shoved the gun harder against Noah’s back.

“One of the perks of being head of security, huh?”

“Mr. Walker, please don’t make me shoot you. You’ll spoil all the fun,” Drew said sarcastically.

Noah snapped his mouth shut when he wanted nothing more to tell the bastard to go fuck himself. The anger was definitely taking the forefront now, but he held his tongue. Any minute someone would come rushing out of a room, and he could use it as a distraction to get away or, at the very least, get someone to call for help. But after passing several doors, no one appeared. It didn’t make sense; the halls were normally busy this time of morning. He was still pondering it when Drew led him to the door to the stairs at the end of the hall.