A Girl Undone (15 page)

20

A couple hours later, Streicker gave Luke the keys to the white van. Streicker must have been counting on me selling Luke out so I could go to Canada, because one quick call, and the two reporters were on a plane for Denver.

“Leave the van with this guy,” Streicker said, handing Luke a scrap of paper with an address. “He’ll hide you and get you a ride into the mountains.”

“Great,” Luke answered.

Streicker thought for a moment before he added, “You might want to ask the reporters what they know about the rumor that the Saudis are pressing Jouvert for nuclear weapons.”

“Nukes? That’s what this is about?”

“Only two powers in the Middle East have the bomb: Israel and Iran. And they’re both enemies of the Saudis. If Jouvert gets nukes for the Saudis, no other candidate will be able to touch the money they’ll pour into making him president.”

I turned away, sick to my stomach, and went down to the house to say good-bye to Lola. When I returned, the magnetic signs on the van had been changed to
ROCKY MOUNTAIN FARRIERS
.

As I walked up, I heard Streicker say, “She’s dragging you down. I can take her to Canada in my next shipment and free you up to do what you need to do.”

“No, thanks,” I said.

Streicker wheeled around.

“We’re going together,” I told him.

“That’s right,” Luke added.

Streicker shook his head at Luke. “You’re making a mistake, but I guess I can’t stop you.”

Earlier, after he and Hanna’s dad negotiated the price for her return, Streicker had turned from cool toward me to arctic. I didn’t care, because seeing him release Hanna from that cage made it all worth it.

We went to get in the van, and Streicker pulled Luke into a hug, tossing me a creepy smile over Luke’s shoulder that made me shiver. So I was more than happy to strap into the seat behind Luke, and drive off, leaving Streicker behind like something nasty I’d peeled off my skin.

We got on a two-lane highway south of Laramie, headed for Fort Collins, Colorado. It was an hour and a half to Fort Collins, and if we didn’t run into problems, another hour or so to Denver.

My swollen ankle throbbed, even though I’d popped more painkillers. Luke seemed to relax once we hit the road, and I felt lighter, knowing in a few hours we’d have the weight of the evidence off our backs.

I rested my chin on his shoulder. “It feels good, knowing that when the reporters get this story out, Jouvert and the other Paternalists will have to answer for what they did.”

“We’re going to stop him, Avie, I know it. And just in time.” Luke tilted his head so it leaned on mine. “Hey, I want to say I’m sorry. I know I’ve put you through a lot—”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t always been that easy myself.” I had enough regrets for both of us. “Let’s forget about all that. Deal?”

“Deal.” I felt Luke’s shoulder relax beneath my chin. “Avie, when this is over, and the feds aren’t hunting us anymore, what do you plan on doing?”

“I don’t know. I’d say go home, but Jessop Hawkins still owns me. And I’m nervous about trying for Canada if it means having to deal with people like Streicker.”

“Maybe you’d consider moving up to the mountains?”

Our eyes met in the rearview mirror and there was the Luke I’d first come to know in the snow-frosted woods. His chestnut-colored eyes invited me to dream, and in that moment, I saw us together. Building a cabin with our own two hands. Riding horses into the hills. Hanging out with Jonas and Sarah and all the other kind people in Salvation.

A life with Luke was idyllic and tempting, but it was a complete fantasy. I wasn’t a mountain girl. I couldn’t take off with Luke when I still loved Yates.

“Luke, I—” I didn’t know how to answer, how to explain my mixed-up feelings. And I didn’t want to hurt him.

“I thought I’d ask, what with your situation the way it is—”

Yates in jail. Me Contracted to Hawkins.

I went to speak, but Luke stopped me. “I know your heart’s with someone else.”

Yes, but—I couldn’t let him think he was wrong to ask. “It might have been yours if I’d met you first.”

Luke drove for another mile, then he pulled the van onto the shoulder. “Is there a problem?” I said.

“No problem.” Luke climbed into the back and kneeled before me. He draped his hand on my shoulder and his eyes searched mine as his other hand moved to my waist.
What are we doing?
Then he eased me closer and kissed me.

His kiss asked if I was sure how I felt about Yates, and my body answered by pressing into his. And the kiss I gave him back told me that I wanted him, too, that love wasn’t a simple “either-or.” Love could be both.

I want you both.

I know I shouldn’t, but I love you both.

After all the drama and fear we’d lived through together, we were connected. We’d saved each other, goaded each other, condemned each other.

I lost track of how long we kissed before Luke pulled away. He held both my hands in his, keeping us at arm’s length. Slow down, stop, he seemed to be telling himself.

“I don’t know what will happen after we get to Denver,” he said, “but I hope you’ll come with me.”

“Luke—”

“Shush,” he whispered. “You don’t have to decide now.”

He let go of my hands, and I reached up and ran my finger down the gold stubble on his cheek. His smile opened up his face, showing me the Luke who’d share his big, limitless heart.

We gazed at each other for a long moment before Luke climbed back in his seat. I wiped the corners of my eyes. I wished things were simpler. Saving my heart for Yates had seemed like the most obvious thing in the world, but now in this moment, Luke was offering me a future, and my dream of a life with Yates seemed na
ï
ve, unrealistic even.

Luke started the engine. “We’re low on gas. We’ll need to stop in Fort Collins.”

I cursed Streicker under my breath for not filling up the tank. Once we hit the outskirts of the city, we started hunting for a station.

Fort Collins looked like it was once a pretty town with gorgeous mountain views, but it hadn’t escaped the wrath of Scarpanol. We passed a shuttered preschool. A dead bridal store. Empty nail salons. Cars were parked outside the auto parts store, and the funeral home had fresh Christmas wreaths on the doors. Shiny snowmobiles were lined up outside the dealership, where red and green banners flapped overhead.

Billboards lined the road. “Colorado State Nursing Program for Men. Big $$$ and Guaranteed Job Placement. 100% Government-paid Tuition.”

“Mexican Brides! Bring Home a Gorgeous Se
ñ
orita! Tour Price Includes All Legal Fees and Import Taxes!”

“Granny’s Gun Club and Firing Range. Keep Your Independence! Low-cost Classes. Senior and Early Bird Discounts.”

We pulled into a gas station with a convenience store, and parked by the pumps. “Looks like I got to go inside to pay,” Luke said. “You want anything?”

“No, I’m good.” We were the only vehicle pulled up at the station. “I think I’ll freshen up, as long as we’re here.”

I left my pack in the van, not wanting any extra weight on my ankle. The bathrooms were on the side of the building, and I walked gingerly, keeping my head down.

The step into the bathroom was coated with ice. As I reached for the doorknob, my foot slid and I came down hard on my bad ankle.
“Aiiee.”
Colors burst behind my eyelids, and I made myself breathe until the pain subsided.

Inside, I did my business, then tidied up at the mirror. The hanging was twisted around my neck like a scarf and I fingered the stitching. I was so ready to hand it over to the reporters. I’d bleached it off-white at Vera’s, but anyone who knew stitch code could help the reporters decipher it.

But what if the reporters aren’t reporters?

Luke and I were headed to a meeting, but Streicker didn’t know these guys. Sure, he was smart, but even smart guys get fooled.

I slid the phone out of my jeans. This was the crucial piece of evidence, and the hardest to hide. I remembered police in movies frisking criminals under the arms and down the legs and I stuffed it in my boot, thinking I was being ridiculous. If the feds caught me, they’d find the phone in seconds.

Breathe, I told myself. In an hour, this could be past tense.

I opened the door, and a man stood in my way. He had a beard, and a beat-up cowboy hat, and he smelled like Red Hots. “Excuse me,” I said.

He tossed the toothpick he was chewing. “Miss Reveare, if you would come with me.”

My stomach plunged, and I scanned the pumps for Luke. “He’s still inside,” the man said. “You can save him a lot of pain if you come quietly.”

The man pointed to the open door of the SUV pulled up next to us. Two other men waited inside the idling car.

Apparently, they weren’t interested in Luke, only me. “Let me guess,” I said. “You work for Jessop Hawkins?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I glanced over my shoulder, knowing I had only a second to decide. I couldn’t jump the fence behind me, and I couldn’t make a dash for the street, not on this ankle. If I yelled for Luke, these men would hurt him, and who knows what they’d do if they discovered the thumb drive he was carrying.

The choice became crystal-clear. Give up my freedom, and Luke could finish our mission. Go back to Hawkins, and Jouvert would pay for his crimes. I had to surrender so Luke and thousands of girls like me would get justice.

I got into the SUV.

The man climbed in after me, crushing me against his buddy. He peeled off his beard, and chucked his cowboy hat over the seat. “Do we need to handcuff you?”

“No.”

The SUV pulled away from the station and I saw Luke exit the store with a bottle of orange soda. I raised my hand to wave, knowing full well he couldn’t see me through the nearly black windows.

He strolled over to the van. Luke would probably wait a few minutes before he tried knocking on the bathroom door. When I didn’t answer, what would he do? I kept my gaze locked on him.

Go. Go meet the reporters, Luke. Don’t wait for me. Go.

The car sped away, and all the fight in me dissolved. A faint memory of a poem surfaced in my head, something about the world ending not with a bang but a whimper.

I’d imagined that when the feds captured me, there’d be guns and noise and blood, that I’d be screaming hysterically, not sitting in a back seat silently giving up.

I had not given up. I had sacrificed myself.

So you have to go, Luke. Go meet the reporters
.

I pictured him starting the van, as if by picturing it, I could make it happen. He couldn’t save me, and I didn’t want him to try.
Go, Luke. Save the Mikhaelas and the Hannas out there.

And please, for God’s sake, don’t get hurt.

*   *   *

The Fort Collins airport was only minutes away. We went in a back entrance and drove up to a private jet on the tarmac. “After you,” the Retriever said, pointing to the lowered stairs.

I wasn’t surprised in the least to see Adam Ho, Hawkins’ assistant, in one of the cushy white leather seats. Ho didn’t bother to get up or even set down his tablet. “Welcome back, Aveline.”

“Yeah. Long time no see.”

Seeing him again, I realized why Ho reminded me of a lizard. It wasn’t just the taut skin on his face, it was his slender geckolike body.

The Retrievers took the seats behind Ho, leaving me to pick from the three nearest him. I chose the one right across the aisle so I wouldn’t have to look him in the face. Ho made a call while I strapped in. “Yes, we have her. We’ll wire you the funds immediately,” Ho said, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

The person who’d ratted me out was getting her reward money. I imagined Hazel McAllister lounging at a resort in Florida, smacking her toadlike lips.

“Mr. Streicker said to tell you that you did the right thing, going quietly and not getting his man involved.”

I shook my head.
Bastard.

Now the nearly empty gas tank made sense. At least Streicker had kept Luke’s name a secret.

A quarter of a million for turning me in. It was pure Streicker, playing both sides of the field. Taking the reward, and turning me over to Hawkins while helping Luke screw the Paternalists—the same guys whose new laws were making Streicker a fortune in the smuggling business.

I unzipped my ski jacket. The plane lined up for takeoff and my eyes began to fill.

I will not cry.
I bit the inside of my lip, until I tasted blood, because I’d be damned if I’d let Ho see me lose it. I lifted my chin and sat up straight.

Screw Streicker and Hawkins. Screw them both.

Retrieved

21

During the flight back to L.A., I stared out the window at the smooth white wing, but all I kept seeing was Luke with that bottle of orange soda coming out of the convenience store at the gas station. I prayed he wasn’t still there, that he’d realized I was gone and had continued on to Denver.

I hoped he thought I’d bolted. He’d hate me, but at least then he wouldn’t torture himself looking for me. The worst was if he believed I’d been taken, because good guy that he was, he’d blame himself for leaving me alone.

The pilot didn’t land at LAX, but at a smaller airport in the valley. We taxied up to a waiting helicopter and Ho handed me a big khaki fabric bag. “Put this on.”

“What?”

“It goes over your head with the mesh panel in front.”

Apparently, the mesh was so I could see out. “You want me to wear this?”

“For a smart girl, you can be quite dense. Mr. Hawkins does not want your face on the news—not before he has ironed out your legal issues. I myself wouldn’t mind seeing U.S. Marshals carry you off.”

“I bet you’d hand me over to them personally if you thought it would help Jes Hawkins’ bid for governor.”

“Without hesitation.”

As I drew the cotton twill over my head, I saw the label. Chaste Wear. Sparrow had told me she’d seen girls in New York wearing these things, but I didn’t believe her.