The Drafter (30 page)

“They're posting!” Fran called cheerfully. “Everyone to the windows!”

The excitement rose. Drinks were set down, and the little clusters of chatting people turned into a mob at the windows as personal space vanished in the thrill of the race.

Peri set her drink down, standing up as Fran strode to her. “I've got a moment. You, come with me,” Fran said brusquely. “Taf, you and Howard can watch the race.”

“I don't want to watch the race,” Taf said, arms crossed over her middle.

Howard looked between the two women in unease. “Ah, if it's all the same to you, ma'am, I'd like to stay with Peri.”

Fran glanced at her security. Peri stiffened as adrenaline poured through the cracks of her conviction. “Watch the race,” Fran said tightly. “We're just going into the kitchen.”

Peri eyed the swinging door the servers had been going in and out.
Something has changed
. “Go ahead, Howard. I'll be okay,” she said, not liking the determined slant to his lips.

“There. See?” Fran said brightly, actually taking Peri's elbow and turning her away. “Everything is fine.”

But it wasn't fine, and the only reason Peri had agreed to leave the room was so that Howard and Taf would be out of the line of fire. “What do you have for me?” she asked as she followed Fran into the kitchen.

It was full of men with weapons.

Someone touched her, going down when Peri swiftly broke his wrist. Head swiveling, she fell into a ready stance, but it was too late as safeties clicked off. She could draft, but she might lose the last half hour—forever.

“Mother!” Taf exclaimed as she burst in behind them, and in that instant, Peri was wrestled to the ground, her air huffing out as her hands were painfully yanked behind her and secured with the smooth feel of plastic.
Damn it all to hell
.

“Where's the audio binder?” Fran said tersely. “Well, get it on her. And the blindfold.”

Peri struggled as someone's knee went to the small of her back. “I'm trying to help you!” she shouted, closing her eyes to block the grayish-purple color of the bag imprinting on her mind. But she gave up when a heavy hand pinned her face to the floor and a soft foam insert was jammed inexpertly into her ear. Her pulse hammered as an irritating whine filled half her hearing. It was over. She could close her eyes to block the color, but the precise hum of 741 MHz of sound could not be surmounted—and it worked instantaneously.

“Mom! What are you doing?” Taf said loudly.

“You don't think her request was the only one on the table, do you?” Fran said, and Peri went cold, sitting up when the two men pinning her to the tile floor shoved off her. “Why should we risk anything when Opti will give us Silas in exchange for her?”

Excuse me?
“They're going to scrub me!” Peri said, her hands behind her back and a bag over her head. “I'm not corrupt! They're going to wipe me back to ignorance, and I'll never find out what happened!”

“Get her out of here.”

Peri heard the door open as the excitement from the crowd grew loud. She was yanked to her feet, and the entire room seemed to shake with noise. She thought of Howard with the black feeling of betrayal, but he hadn't known. If he had, her intuition would have pinged on him and she never would have come in. They'd used him.

“She came to us for help,” Taf said bitterly. “I can't believe you're doing this.”

“Let me handle this, Taffeta. You've not earned the right for your voice to be heard,” Fran said. “Go plan something.”

“This is wrong and you know it,” Taf protested. “Howard? Howard!” she called, but it was too late, and Peri stumbled, disoriented, when they shoved her into motion. The numbing hum between her ears was getting worse, even as her feet treaded on hard floors and the sound of the people downstairs became loud.

“Get her out of here,” Fran repeated, her confidence irritating. “And don't take that hood off until she's been drugged at least twenty minutes.”

Peri tensed, stifling a gasp when she was picked up in a fireman's carry, the steps jarring as they wove through several hallways, the sound of the piano and people going faint. This wasn't the end of it. Not by a long shot. But as the elevator began to descend, Peri wondered how she'd ever get out of this.

She was adrift and needed an anchor.

K
nees to her chest, Peri leaned against the side of the panel van to stay upright as they took a corner. She hated panel vans. That she'd been shackled, drugged, and thrown into the back of one was not changing her opinion. At least the bag was off her head. They'd left the audio binder in, though, and the monochromatic hum was set too high, giving her a mild headache. She was reasonably confident they were heading to the airport she'd noticed earlier. And they knew what they were doing, too, seeing as the drug they'd hit her with an hour ago was a mild muscle relaxant and a depressant all in one.

An attention-getting ping came from the front of the van, and Peri shifted to a kneel, leaning to watch the two men scramble to see whose phone it was.

“Oh God. It's Dragon Lady,” the driver said. “You answer it.”

“It's your phone,” the other said, ducking when the driver smacked him. “What the hell!”

“Answer my phone. I'm driving.”

“Hit me again, and I'll pound you,” the second threatened even as he reached for it.

There was a rough spot in the wall where a screw protruded, but it wasn't enough to fray the plastic they'd bound her hands with, and Peri scooted to a new spot.

“Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Five minutes. Yes, ma'am, I'm writing it down.”

Peri froze when the phone beeped. “What a control freak,” the man said. “She wanted to remind us that they're still at hangar three.”

“Shut up!” the driver said. “She's not supposed to know where we're going.”

“Like she can't tell we're at the airport?” the other said. “The jets kind of give it away.”

Yes, the jets did kind of give it away, and Peri struggled for balance when they took a turn onto what was probably a service road.

“Holy shit!” someone exclaimed, and Peri tensed when the van swerved again and the other man began shrieking, “Turn! Turn! She's coming right for us!”

The tires hop-skipped. Peri gasped, rolling to the front of the van. Her head hit the back of the seat as tires screeched, and they stopped in three seconds flat.

For a moment, the om of sound between her ears was the only noise. Peri's heart pounded and she heard a groan. The van was tilted forward. Adrenaline made a spot of clarity in her drugged state, and she felt as if she'd been sleeping. She could smell propellant, and she panicked before she realized the airbags had deployed.

“O-o-o-ow . . . ,” a man groaned, and Peri tried to move, cataloging new hurts. “She ran us right off the road. Jeff, you all right?”

“Yeah,” came a softer voice. “I think I'm going to puke. Is the woman okay?”

No, the woman isn't okay
, she thought when the driver leaned to check.

“Back off!” she shouted as he reached for her, and he jerked away in surprise.

“She's alive,” the guy said, settling back in his seat.

Her head was throbbing, and either the audio binder, the drugs, or hitting the back of the seat with her head was making her nauseated. There was a rush of cooler air, and both men turned to the front window. “Hey, you'd better have good insurance—” the driver started, and then Peri froze at the click of a safety releasing.

“Y'all do anything I don't like, and I'll pop you!” Taf shouted, and Peri's head snapped up. “You think my mother's a bitch, I'm her devil spawn. Hands up. Out of the van. Now!”

“What is she—ow!” the second man said, and Peri pulled herself together as the back of the van squeaked open.
Howard?

“Peri, are you okay?” Howard said, awkward as he levered himself into the slanted back end. She blinked at the bright sun, the light hurting her eyes. They were in a ditch, the empty road stretching behind them at a weird angle.

“Both of you men get out!” Taf yelled from the front of the van. “Get over here. Move!”

Howard's eyes were creased in concern, and she croaked, “I'll live.”

Relief crossed his expression. “Does your neck hurt? Can you move everything?”

“If you're rescuing me, I can run a marathon.” Peri clumsily got to her knees, her hands still bound behind her.

“Let me get that,” he said, reaching to cut her hands free. The cuffs released with a snap, and she hissed at the pain. Fingers numb from the lack of circulation, she fumbled for the audio binder. Blessed silence replaced the irritating hum. Renewed, she took a deep breath. “Thanks,” she whispered, wondering why he was here, helping her again.

Taf's voice came from outside the van. “Howard? If she's okay, we gotta go.”

Howard slid to the back, hand extended to help her. Strength seemed to rush to fill her as she took it, and she crab-walked out, surprised at the faint vertigo.

Taf was pointing a big-ass rifle at two men kneeling beside the front wheel. The driver's-side fender was wrapped around a tree. Their hands were laced atop their heads, and they looked like assassination victims. Across the road was a 1954 Ford F100 truck, tricked out and painted a bright red. A part of Peri wondered how she knew what make and year it was, but she did.

“Sorry about that,” Taf was saying, but she was talking to Peri, not
to the men. “I didn't know what else to do other than play chicken with them. You okay?”

Taf had changed into black slacks and top, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and a leather duster furling about her boots. Peri didn't like that she looked like a younger version of herself on a good day. “Ask me tomorrow,” she said, knowing the real aches wouldn't start until then. “Your mom is calling every five minutes,” Peri added, leaning on Howard as she limped forward. “Get their phones.”

“Phones. Now!” Taf barked. “Easy . . . ,” she warned when their hands dropped. “I never liked you, Wade. Give me an excuse.”

Peri looked up the empty road for signs of trouble, knowing they likely had only moments. The vintage truck was clearly their way out of here. It was half in the ditch, but it was a muscle car, by God, even if someone had prettified it with flames; a ditch wasn't an issue.

“Throw 'em,” Taf said, and two phones thumped at her feet. “Good,” she said, the shotgun never wavering as she pulled two sets of cuffs from her pocket and tossed them to the two men. “Put them on.”

Peri was starting to wonder about Taf. Where was she getting this stuff? “Thank you,” Peri said as Howard helped her across the road. “Why are you doing this?”

Howard supported her with a professional surety. “You aren't the only one being spoon-fed lies,” he said tightly. “Taf planned it. She can do more than parties. Are you okay to drive? You look a little spacey. You're going to want to ditch it before you go too far, but it will get you out of here. You don't know what they gave you, do you?”

“Muscle relaxant?” she guessed. Her shoulder hurt, and she hoped she found a bottle of aspirin or, better yet, tequila before the adrenaline wore off. “I'm good. I can drive.”

From behind the van, Taf shouted, “Cuff yourselves to the van. The van!” And then Peri spun, heart pounding at the thunder of the rifle firing.
Shit
.

“Taf!” Howard cried, but the young woman was sauntering to them, ponytail swinging, looking sharp with that duster furling around her ankles, the open rifle draped over her arm and smoking as she dropped
a new shell in. The two men were white-faced but fine, the van spewing a pink fluid.

Taf smiled as she tossed her bangs out of her eyes. “I wasn't going to shoot them. Scared the crap out of them though, huh?”

Taf laughed, as Peri sagged in relief and staggered to the truck. “Nice escape vehicle,” she said, thinking it was a sweet ride, even if it was not inconspicuous. And in a ditch.

Howard was already moving to the back of the truck. “I'll push. Get in.”

“You like it?” Taf said cheerfully. “It belongs to a friend of mine. Can you drive a stick?”

Peri lifted the latch, smiling at the sound of money behind the small click. “Jack's better at it than me, but yes,” she said, then froze as the thought burst against the top of her brain.
Jack's better at it than me
, she thought again, though there was no memory to accompany it.

Her smooth step up faltered at the pain, but she managed it. “I appreciate this,” she said as she started the engine, relishing the overindulgent brum of sound. “How close is the airport?”

Howard stood up from where he'd been leaning over the tailgate. “Uh . . . why?”

“Silas. If that's where the exchange is, that's where I'm going.”

Taf's smile fell and she caught Peri's closing door. “I did not risk cracking up Jamie's ride so my mother could catch you again.”

Peri tugged at the door, and Taf yanked it out of her grip. Sighing, Peri looked up from her stinging fingers. “I know I said to stop letting your mother control your life, but this isn't what I meant.”

Taf smirked. “Funny. That's what I heard.”

The truck shifted, and Peri looked across the long bench seat as Howard got in. “Get out of the truck, Howard.”

Eyes down, he flushed. “Taf is a big girl. She can push. You're going to need help getting Silas.” His eyebrows bunched. “He's my friend. Maybe I should drive. You look a little green.”

Still between the door and the body, Taf crossed her arms over her middle. “I am
not
pushing a truck out of a
ditch
.”