In My Life (3) (The Mile High Club) Page 5

  LUCAS GAUGED THE WALL. He’d done this a million times based on McFarland’s intel. This was his first time solo. Off the record, so to speak. McFarland would probably kill him if he found out. He liked his pawns to be pawns. But Lucas was starting to get the major creep vibe from his latest infiltrations. If he didn’t do something about it, the ick would stick to his soul.

  Physics. That was the answer to everything—everything not including ethics, that is. He ran at the wall at just the right speed, hitting as he lifted upward with his tennis shoes. Still in motion, he grasped the wall with both arms and then he was on top.

  Lucas knelt silently in the shadows. A scrabble up a wall isn’t completely silent. He watched and listened, holding still to get his bearings. Three lights flooded the lawn below. The house was pink stucco and huge, although the pink was mostly gray except for the rare lighted patches in the twilight darkness.

  This was where things got dicey. The house could be a real house, a place where someone honest-to-goodness lived. Or it might be a front, a place where kidnappers might keep a couple of scientists for ransom. Lucas was betting it was a ‘real house’. Still, he didn’t mind testing his infiltration skills on a member of SpaceTech’s cabal. And McFarland couldn’t get too bent out of shape. He did say that Lucas was in Miami to watch employees of SpaceTech, win-win.

  When he’d scoped as much as possible with no sign of guards or alarms, Lucas dropped to the other side of the wall, basically by reversing himself and hanging down on his arms, dropping as silently as possible to the ground. He couldn’t help the small sound of dropping.

  Sticking to the shadows, Lucas edged around the perimeter, keeping close to the wall and stopping every ten feet to watch and listen. When Lucas reached the corner of the wall, he knelt. A palm tree blocked visibility to one of the windows. The tree was closer to the concrete wall than the house.

  There was one patch of ground that did not have light. One of the light bulbs was burned out. Lucas eased back to watch. He counted to three hundred. After every ten seconds, he shifted his gaze. Five minutes without movement; Lucas decided to go for it. Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from the wall, still in a crouch.

  Across the yard, just to the side of the window was a bush with huge leaves. Lucas had no idea what kind, but it would make great cover. He sprinted across the yard.

  An alarm rang. It was louder than a car alarm, sounding more like a fire alarm. Lucas jumped into the bushes next to the house and crouched. He heard shouts from the house and radio chatter. He curled up, knees to chin and waited.

  The foliage was so thick that Lucas couldn’t see out. He heard shouts back and forth and then a voice across one of the guards’ radios, “He ran across the yard and is hiding next to the house.”

  Lucas cringed when he heard that. Damn cameras. He knew better. His trainer had made a huge deal about waiting for intel before any operation; Lucas thought his trainer paranoid. Now he knew better. This wasn’t his first infiltration. As a matter of fact, he’d done it a dozen times, but this was his first without guidance.

  He had no idea what to do. If he ran out, they’d shoot him. Not that it was legal, not when he was running away, but Lucas knew better than anyone how well these mobster types flew under the radar. His body would be dumped in the swamp before anyone even knew he was missing, even Lauren. They’d probably drive right past her with his body in the trunk.

  “We know you’re in those bushes. Come out with your hands on your head. If we have to come get you, we’ll shoot.” That from some tough guy. He sounded tough. He sounded scary. But Lucas knew he wouldn’t shoot. This was a residential area with fancy houses and manicured yards. No, he wouldn’t shoot; then again, Lucas didn’t like the odds that this guy might have a silencer.

  Lucas was out of options. He felt like a complete idiot, like a little boy playing spy with major bad guys. He slowly put his hands over his head, stood out of his crouch and walked into the light.

  He did everything at snail speed, flinching when the beam of flashlight hit his face.

  “Are you armed?”

  “No.” Lucas answered.

  “Let’s just see.”

  They shoved him forward, kicking Lucas when he fell. Lucas kept his hands above his head and did exactly what they said. He was a fool, a dead fool most likely, but he might as well try to survive for a little while more.

  The marched him inside. The foyer was elegant, a rich man’s home, but once they had gone through the hall into the back, it turned suddenly barren, a place unlived. Once they were safely inside, they frisked Lucas. He didn’t wear a gun. His phone was out in the car with Lauren. So was his ID.

  They were not gentle when they searched Lucas. Finding nothing, they handcuffed him. One of the men said, “Drake’s getting sloppy now that he’s got a girl. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Flynn Conway. Look, I don’t know who this Drake is. I did it on a dare.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Lucas decided that sneers from armed men were among the most terrifying in the universe. He said, “I swear. I was supposed to jump the wall, run to the front porch, and take one of those white pebbles on the walk to prove I did it.

  “You’re going to love the attic. Ever watch those horror stories about what happens to kids when they take dares?” The man was at least five inches taller than Lucas, but he leaned down, his face inches away.

  “They get assaulted by hot onion breath? Ewww. Have you been eating salsa?” Lucas was a smart ass. This wasn’t just taking the opportunity to insult a guard with his smart assery—Lucas wanted to see how violent they were.

  Lucas woke up with a massive headache, handcuffed with his legs tied together. Another kidnapping victim appeared to be there as well. The man was handcuffed and tied in the same room, while four guards watched. When Lucas opened his eyes, the world went spinning around him. The blurry double vision gave him a sick feeling, so he closed his eyes. Yep, these guys were violent. But they didn’t shoot him. That was something.

  The relief didn’t last. Lucas felt like a piano was lodged in his throat, pressing on his esophagus, willing him to puke. He swallowed three times, unable to dislodge the pressure or change the pain.

  The door opened. Lucas hurt so much that he didn’t open his eyes again or lift his head.

  “What do we have here? Another of Drake’s bitches. Imagine that.”

  That got his attention. Lucas lifted and turned his head. The pain sent him into a reeling dizziness, but he saw what they were talking about. A blurry pair of Laurens was pushed ahead of two more gun-toting guards. Crap. They were screwed so bad. Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, hoping the vertigo and double vision would disappear. It didn’t.

  With a thump, Lauren fell beside Lucas. His head hurt with every movement. He thought he’d puke for sure. He said, “You okay?”

  “Sure, I’m probably going to be kidnapped and fired in the same day.” Without watching her face, Lucas had no idea if she was being sarcastic or angry.

  “You’ll definitely be fired. Fate worse than death. I don’t see a way out of this,” Lucas shifted, trying to flop over so he could talk to Lauren. His head hurt too much, and he lowered it back to the carpet.

  “What happened to your boundless optimism?”

  “They knocked the sense right out of me. Now I’m a shell,” Lucas said. He couldn’t bear the spinning, so he just closed his eyes with his head resting against the carpet.

  Two of the guards spoke in low tones, impossible to hear. Lucas couldn’t think straight. He drifted off to the guard’s discussion about what they would do with their two latest charges.

  Chapter 5

  LAUREN FLOPPED OVER so that she could talk to Lucas. He had stopped talking a few minutes before. When she came into the hall, she could see that his eye was bloodshot and the side of his face was a massive bruise. She didn’t dare tell him that she had called Sven. If the guards were alerted to Drake’s men, t
he rescue team would be picked off like flies. Good thing she called.

  As soon as Lauren had heard the alarms, she ran for the car and grabbed the phone. A team was on the way. She had already hung up and was considering whether to drive around the block when someone tapped on her window. Seeing the large man through the window, Lauren realized that she should have driven away and then called. At the time, she thought she was making the right decision. Lauren had thought that Lucas would be better at evasion and would race to the car ahead of anyone in the house. She didn’t want him racing toward an empty space.

  Now she was prisoner in an elegant home. If she could just stay alive long enough, maybe Sven would save her. Then again, he might just get them all killed. It was a toss-up.

  Lauren knelt on the carpet. The room was the size of a large walk-in closet with no windows, furniture or anything. The door was reinforced steel. Lucas was curled up on the floor. “Lucas? Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Lauren might have shrieked the question. She was definitely feeling hysterical. The bruise was huge. He looked terrible. Lauren thought he must have unseen injuries. Stuff like that could be deadly.

  Her shriek at least got news to Tom that he wasn’t alone. He said, “Lauren? Is that you?” Tom asked. She couldn’t see him, bound as she was and facing Lucas.

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing in Miami?”

  The whole story would take too long, and Lauren was too emotionally weary to attempt it. She went for a partial truth and said, “Sven said you were in trouble. Now I’m here.”

  “I’m glad you could make it. Sorry about the accommodations,” Tom said.

  “Stop the chatter.” The guard barked the words, accustomed to giving orders. Lauren figured SpaceTech was probably as paramilitary as Drake’s company. These guys borrowed a lot from the Army. He wore black down to his boots and stood ram-rod straight.

  Lauren pressed her lips together.

  Her hands were bound in front of her body with zip ties. Maybe they ran out of handcuffs. Lucas got the real handcuffs. It annoyed Lauren that they thought less of her, and yet it was an opportunity. She could get out of plastic.

  Lauren tried to shake Lucas even with her hands bound. He flopped back. The side of his face was swollen. He needed a hospital. Lauren glanced up at the guard, “Hey, this guy needs medical attention.”

  “We’ll throw him in the swamp before taking him to a doc. Might as well get cozy. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  Cozy. The floor was carpeted and the carpeting fairly new, but that was as far as cozy went. Lauren settled into a corner to think. At least the floor was carpeted. Ties should be easy to break given enough pressure, but once she got out of the zip tie, she had to find something to get Lucas out of the handcuffs and then get him and Tom out of the house. Lauren hid her hands under her knees while she stretched her arms around the zip ties, trying to break their hold.

  It had to be around two or three in the morning. Lauren’s eyes felt gritty, and her mind tired. The house had fallen silent. Lauren listened for night sounds, but the walls were thick, and nothing carried into the room where she waited.

  Lauren curled up on her side and closed her eyes, thinking that she would never sleep—surprised when she did. The smell of frying bacon and eggs woke her. Lauren’s stomach growled.

  The guard at the door was a short blonde with a wispy mustache. No one would mistake this man for a kid. He was nearly forty and had the kind of cold eyes that looked past people. He was beyond scary.

  Lauren sat up. “Hey, when do we eat?”

  The guard didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Lauren. She might as well have been a ghost. From the kitchen one of the men called, “Hank, get your ass down here.”

  The guard looked over his shoulder and then back at Lauren. After a moment’s hesitation, he left the room.

  “Lucas, are you awake?” Lauren nudged his leg with her toe. He didn’t move. She didn’t have much time. She estimated these guys could wolf down their breakfast in two minutes. If she was lucky, she might get five.

  Now that the guards were occupied, Lauren tried a dozen methods of removing the zip ties. None of them worked. She finally lifted her arms above her head and brought them down sharply. Success! The plastic snapped.

  The mind is a funny thing. Lauren’s thoughts kept drifting to her job, and how much trouble she would be in if she were late tomorrow. She had no idea what time early Sunday morning it was, only that it was morning, and she didn’t have long.

  She knew even as those thoughts flitted through her mind that they were ridiculous. She had absolutely no chance at all. If she bothered to go into work on Monday, Kendall would fire her on the spot, if he didn’t ‘disappear’ her. Lauren had no allusions about what might happen when Kendall found out she had betrayed him.

  Lauren dug in her pockets for something to use on handcuffs. She had nothing. She remembered four doors in the basement, all made from the same steel and likely filled with kidnapping victims.

  Upstairs the guards were joking and talking. Lauren could imagine them sitting around the breakfast table. She and Lucas were barely restrained compared to Tom. It occurred to Lauren that the current situation might be a trap. Entice her to escape. For what reason?

  No, they must have just underestimated her.

  Lauren removed her belt. The catch on the buckle was thinner than most. She crouched next to Lucas and shook him. “Lucas. Wake up.”

  Something was desperately wrong. She checked for a pulse. She didn’t even know she’d been holding her breath until it came out in a whoosh. Through her fingers pulsed the thread of a heartbeat. He was still alive. Not conscious but alive. That blow to the head was a serious one. He needed an ambulance.

  Lauren unbelted, and tried her belt on the handcuffs. The buckle got in the way of the tiny prong needed for the locking mechanism. The belt was one of those thin leather ones. She worked it back and forth until the buckle and prod were bent at a nearly 180 angle away from each other.

  Footsteps on the stairs. Lauren hurriedly wrapped the belt around her waist, sliding it quickly into the side loops and buckling it. As the guards came down the hall, she returned to the corner.

  She closed her eyes, pretending sleep. One of the men carried a tray with four bowls of oatmeal. Seeing Lauren and Lucas asleep, he put two of the bowls with spoon inside on the carpet in front of the door. He gave Tom a bowl. Tom was in rough shape as well, having much of his middle-aged fat erased by months of confinement and the weakness that comes from an absence of movement.

  The guard carried the last bowl to a prisoner kept behind a steel door down the hall. He fumbled with the keys when he unlocked the door. From hearing his movement, she deduced that he was carrying a key ring with keys to the doors.

  Lauren hated pretending sleep. It didn’t do her any good. Still, she needed a plan and interaction wasn’t part of it. After delivering oatmeal to the prisoner in the other room, the guard returned to Lauren’s cell. He kicked her foot, “Get up and eat.”

  There was no way she could come out of the corner without giving the broken zip ties. She brought her hands together over her middle and stood, hoping they didn’t notice. She said, “I have to pee.”

  The guard said, “Let’s go.”

  Lauren followed the guard to an incredibly large bathroom. It boasted both a spa tub, a shower, and two sinks in a tile area next to a carpeted area with a sofa and a small closet. The guard made a show of yawning and then sat on the couch with a predatory glance at Lauren.

  Lauren realized he wasn’t going to leave. She said, “Please. I don’t want to go with an audience.”

  “Do you think you’re at a hotel? If you have to go, go. If not, then let’s get back,” The guard leaned back and watched Lauren. It felt like he was daring her to argue back.

  The bathroom had a frosted window that slid up and down. If Lauren stood on the tub, she could crawl out through the window. First she had to
ditch her shadow. That didn’t seem likely to happen at the moment.

  Careful to keep her shoulders tight and hands together at all times, so the guard didn’t realize her hands were unbound, Lauren turned her back on the guard. She spent a few seconds extending the time it took to unzip. Pretending to be bound was harder than it looked. She pushed down her jeans. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to pull down her underwear.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  The guard reminded her of one of those really dumb dogs that always had their tongue hanging out of their mouth. The Irish Setter guard. All tongue and no brains.

  “Blue satin. Somehow I figured you for lace.” His whole focus was on her butt.

  What a turd.

  “I’m not the Stockholm Syndrome type,” Lauren said.

  Again with the glazed-over Irish Setter stare. She was just waiting for him to ask what it meant. Instead he shrugged and sat back with his arms crossed and a smarmy leer. Lauren took a few steps sideways, and then with all the speed she could muster, dropped her underwear and dropped to the toilet, keeping her hands up against her breasts with fingers toward her chin in an effort to hide the broken bonds.

  The guy wasn’t interested in her hands.

  Lauren couldn’t go with someone watching and the longer she sat there the more he would see. She said, “You don’t get out much do you? Highlight of your day, huh? Watching a woman go to the bathroom?”

  She was prepared to gouge out his eyes if he came anywhere near her. What she wasn’t prepared for was a scared bladder. Now she couldn’t go. What woman couldn’t pee at least a little bit on command? Lauren grumbled, “Would you please go outside? I can’t go with you watching. It’s not like I can escape. We’re on the second story and I’m bound.”

  “Drop your pants all the way and kick your underwear over this way, and I’ll give you privacy.”