Get Lucky (22 page)

Chapter Twelve

“Hold on a minute,” Natasha silenced London after a few minutes of listening as London shared the horrific events that had just transpired. “Where are you?”

London took a deep breath. Everything she’d just told Natasha sounded insane even to her and she’d just lived through it. “I’m sitting in Marc’s car in a parking lot.” She glanced over at the grocery store and the people hurrying in and out of it, business as usual. At least for the rest of the world. “I’m next to a grocery store,” she added.

“The first thing we need to do is secure your safety. And you don’t have any idea where Marc and Jake were taken?”

“None.” She thought of Canyon Diablo, where they were headed that morning. Maybe driving out there would give her some answers. She stared at the GPS on the dash, which displayed her current location, and wondered if she could program it to direct her to the ghost town.

“I just tried calling both of their cell phones and they are going straight to voice mail. Either they’ve been turned off or wherever they are doesn’t have a signal.”

“We were headed out the door, so I’m guessing they had their phones on them. But honestly, I don’t remember watching them do anything with their phones.” She’d been too distracted trying to sort through her feelings for Marc. That wasn’t something she would share with Natasha though. “I’m not too sure where to go to be safe. I don’t even have my purse or driver’s license.”

“They’re both still in the motel room?” Natasha asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ve got choices.” Natasha’s strong, commanding tone had a soft edge to it. She didn’t quite whisper, but there was a husky sound to her voice. “I need to do some checking at my end, see if there’s any way I can track their cell phones and secure a location. That is, assuming they have them on them. In the meantime, you can stay put, go to the police, or try going back to the room to get your things.”

London gave it some thought. Somehow talking over everything that had happened with Natasha had helped London regain control of her senses. She leaned back in the driver’s seat, turning the car on to start the heat, and chewed her lower lip, weighing her options.

“I’m not accomplishing anything sitting here, and six people are in serious trouble. I’m the only one who can help them. No one else knows anything about this,” she began, thinking out loud as Natasha remained silent on the other end of the line. “I don’t know that the police will be as compassionate to this situation as you and I are. The only solid proof I can give them right now is a dead body and a murder weapon. The pictures and messages with them could imply a hostage situation except we don’t have a ransom note.”

“True,” Natasha said, but didn’t elaborate.

London continued breaking her options down. “If I go back to the motel and the police have been called, they will probably be there right now. It would be obvious and I would keep going.” Like a bat out of hell, she thought to herself. “If the police aren’t there, then probably they aren’t going to be called. I’ve been sitting here a good thirty minutes at least.”

“Hold on a second,” Natasha said, listening or not but obviously doing her job as well.

London continued anyway. “I’m going to drive by the motel. If there isn’t anyone there, I’m going to try and get our stuff out of there.”

“Call me back as soon as you get there. If I don’t hear from you in fifteen minutes I’m calling you back.” Natasha said good-bye and hung up.

London shifted the car and accelerated slowly out of the parking lot. When she started trembling, London bit her lip until it hurt. No way would she back out. The time for hiding and being scared was over. Maybe she’d spent her entire life doing both and fearing any adventure of any kind. She sucked in a breath, remembering how she’d heard Marc and Jake fight the men who came into the room before they were abducted. Other than size and a hell of a lot more muscle, what did either of them have that she didn’t have?

When she blew out a loud breath it was with new resolve. She couldn’t quite stop from trembling, but she would be brave. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong. There wasn’t any reason to hide and cower. She was in the right. And now, for whatever warped reasons, it was all up to her to free six people who’d been taken. Natasha never mentioned contacting the police on her end. So until London knew otherwise, there wasn’t any backup. No one else would run to the rescue of her parents, Marc, or his family.

“God. It’s all up to me.” Saying it out loud didn’t help it sink in any better. She tried again, though. “I’m in charge of rescuing six people.” That didn’t help, either. She did manage to grind the gears a bit when shifting down, though. The engine rumbled underneath her in protest. For the first time, London wished Marc had a little less of a conspicuous car. She’d enjoyed the hell out of driving it from Colorado to Arizona. But now, as she pulled out into the street, London swore everyone she passed stared at the car in appreciation. There was no hiding in this classic, red with black stripes, street rod.

Managing to make a face and telling herself it was a good thing Marc wasn’t here to see how she was treating his Mustang, she continued convincing herself she could see this through, and with the pristine muscle car as her sidekick.

“You’re never going to hide under beds again.” That statement made her laugh, but her smile faded quickly as the true meaning of what she’d just said hit her.

That’s what she’d been doing, for years. Maybe as a child she’d mastered diving under beds or into closets or making herself invisible some way or another when trouble came to their door. But as an adult, over the years she’d been working, never missing a day, being the perfect employee, she’d still been hiding under a bed.

She never made any friends, wouldn’t get serious with any guy who asked her out, and worked way too many hours. Granted, she could justify the hours worked. She had a new car and lived in a nice house. But at twenty-five she’d never been with the same guy longer than a month or so, and there wasn’t anyone on the planet she would consider a best friend.

“No more hiding.” Her words almost got stuck in her throat, her strong convictions she’d just talked herself into accepting threatening to waver when the sign for the motel came into view.

London gripped the gearshift, white-knuckling it, and managed to keep her leg from trembling when she pushed on the clutch. She neared the parking lot, stared at where Marc’s Mustang had been parked before she took off in it and then at the door to their room. It was closed. There were a few cars in the parking lot. Other than that, everything seemed normal.

It certainly didn’t look the way a crime scene would look, or how she imagined it looking. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her palms were almost too damp to shift. Turning into the parking lot, she pulled into a stall. The car jerked and turned off when she let up on the clutch too soon.

“Everything looks normal.” Now all she had to do was get out of the car and walk up to the motel room. “You’re in charge, girl,” she reminded herself. Enough of the talk, now for the walk.

London automatically reached for her purse and sighed. She had her cell phone and the card key and the only reason she had either was because she’d already put them on her when she was going to leave with Marc and Jake. Opening the car door, she shot a wary look around the parking lot, her nerves so frazzled a car appearing in her peripheral vision on the road caused her to jump.

There was no way she would be able to rescue a fly at this rate. She’d already endured escaping a potential captor by killing him; anything else should be child’s play in comparison. London forced herself into a confident walk to the motel room door and slid her key into the notch by the doorknob. The light turned green and she pushed open the door.

It smelled like cleaning supplies. Crap! Had Housekeeping cleaned their room?

In the next instant she realized how insane of a thought that was. Someone had definitely been in the room. They’d spent a fair amount of time here, too. Either that or London had seriously hallucinated a lot of what happened earlier today. Although the room smelled clean and there was no sign of a dead body, the bed she and Marc slept in the night before was unmade.

She walked past the two beds and stood where the man had stood when she’d shot him. There should be blood on the carpet, a lot of blood. London looked down at her jeans and turned, staring at herself in the mirror. There were dark, dried blotches covering her pants. Looking again at the carpet, she kept her focus on it as she walked around the bed, now standing where she’d been lying on the floor.

London squatted, pressing her fingers into the carpet. She pulled them back with a shriek. The carpet was wet. Her stomach turned as she brought her fingers to her nose and smelled them. They smelled like cleaning supplies.

“Someone came in here after I left, pulled a dead body out of here, and cleaned the carpet.” London stared across the motel room, her mind spinning. What kind of people was she dealing with here?

Her cell phone rang and London yelped again, reaching behind her and bracing herself when she fell in a crab-like position.

“Good God,” she moaned, pushing herself to her feet and pulling her phone out of her pocket. She was off to a damn good start at playing sleuth when cleaning supplies and ringing cell phones scared the crap out of her.

It was Natasha calling her. “Hello,” she said, praying her voice didn’t sound too shaky.

“Just checking in.”

“Everything’s fine.” She didn’t even know where to begin in explaining how not fine it was.

“Good. Perfect. Hey, do you have enough gas in Marc’s ’stang to come pick me up from the airport?”

“Huh?” London was taken off guard. She’d expected Natasha to laugh at her sarcastic response instead of accepting it. “The airport? What airport?”

“I’m getting ready to board now.” There was a burst of static through the phone and what sounded like a loudspeaker in the background when Natasha continued. “LAX sucks big-time, but I managed a quick flight. I’m landing at Pulliam Airport an hour and a half from now. You shouldn’t be too far from the airport.”

“What flight are you coming in on?” London hurried to the desk, using the pen and paper supplied by the motel, and wrote down the details of Natasha’s flight. “Why are you coming here?” she asked, writing the name of the airport next to the flight schedule.

“We’re boarding now. See you soon,” Natasha said, sounding way too cheerful.

London hung up and stared at the notepad. She didn’t get it, but it looked like within the next couple hours she’d have help finding her parents and Marc and his family.

*   *   *

Natasha King was too damn pretty for her own good. Her long black hair wasn’t thick like London’s but silky and glossy. It looked so controllable and was twisted loosely behind her head with two long, Oriental-looking sticks. She wore faded, loose-fitting blue jeans that had to be incredibly comfortable and at the same time showed off how slim she was. Even with the black leather coat covering most of her torso, it was impossible not to notice how her bright red sweater clung to really large breasts. Natasha was one of those women you just had to hate because of their incredible sex appeal. London swore every man they passed, leaving the airport, tripped over himself trying to get a better view.

“This way.” London nodded as she led the way to Marc’s car. “So how did you know it was me?”

Natasha had grinned broadly and walked right up to London when she made her way through the passengers in the airport. London had a physical description of Natasha but wasn’t positive it was her until Natasha said her name.

“I could say you describe yourself well.” She had such a soft-spoken voice, but there was something dynamic about this woman, who London guessed was around her age. “And you really did. But I have a few advantages,” she added, and walked up to Marc’s car without being told which one it was. “I ran a trace on you.”

Natasha laughed when London looked at her, shocked. “What does that mean? And what did you find?”

“Nothing bad. I promise,” Natasha told her, heaving her large suitcase into Marc’s trunk when London popped it open. “It was kind of like a background check, but all I really searched for was a picture of you.”

“And you found one?”

Natasha finished putting her luggage in the trunk and closed it, then went to the passenger door as London opened the driver’s side. She hadn’t been sure if she should offer to let Natasha drive, since after all, they were in her cousin’s car. Natasha didn’t mention it, though, and secured her seat belt as London started the car.

“Yes. Your driver’s license picture. Not many people take good pictures for the DMV. You got lucky.”

“And now I know you’re a liar.” London wrinkled her nose and Natasha laughed again, the sound almost melodic. It was hard hating her when she was so friendly and smiling all the time. “You know, you’ve got a real knack for this business. I was really impressed when you told me everything was fine when I knew you’d arrived at the motel.”

“How did you know I’d arrived at the motel?” London couldn’t bring herself to tell Natasha she’d told her everything was fine because she was being sarcastic. She’d been thrown off guard with news of Natasha flying in so hadn’t elaborated on the truth. “And trust me, everything was far from fine.”

“But you knew you weren’t on a secure line. I didn’t know if Marc had told you about it or not. But I was impressed. Cell phones are so easy to tap into. You don’t have to be a professional to eavesdrop on conversations.”

London made a show of focusing on traffic as they left the airport. It had been the last thing on her mind to think about how safe her phone was when she’d walked into the motel room. She couldn’t say at the moment what she’d been thinking or if she’d had a rational thought in her head at all. It was incomprehensible that someone could enter a motel, remove a body and all indication someone had been shot without anyone knowing what they were doing. If the motel management had any clue what had happened, they would have been all over that room, along with the cops.

With the skills these people had to get such a disgusting job done in such little time, London didn’t doubt for a moment they’d be able to listen in on any phone conversation they wanted.

“The body is gone.” This time London had the satisfaction of watching Natasha’s jaw drop as she gawked at her.

“You’re kidding,” she whispered.

“When I entered the room I didn’t understand the thick smell of cleaning supplies. But someone came into the room during the time I was gone, removed that body and all blood from the carpet. It was damp where his body had been, but it smelled of carpet cleaner, not blood.”

“Holy crap. They have one hell of an impressive housecleaning system.”

“I don’t think the motel cleaned up the body. They didn’t make the bed.”

Natasha laughed, shaking her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Criminals refer to housecleaning when they send someone in to remove all evidence that a crime was just committed. I bet you there isn’t a single fingerprint in that entire motel room.”

“Now that I didn’t check for,” London said dryly, feeling foolish for not understanding Natasha the first time.

“We’re not dealing with kidnappers or terrorists or anyone holding a grudge against any of them.” Natasha stared ahead of her, her lips pursed and her expression serious. “I think Uncle Greg was right with his hunch after the action figures showed up.” She glanced at London, giving her an appraising look. “I don’t know if Marc told you how livid he was when Marc told him about the wedding couple he got in the mail. Uncle Greg is a master. You’ll find that out when you meet him. Nothing gets past him and there isn’t a case yet he hasn’t solved. I’m sure you’ve noticed how Marc is always trying to outdo him.”

London didn’t bother mentioning that at the moment Marc’s father was missing, along with his wife, so someone had obviously pulled one over on him. It was Marc who’d gone in after his father. “I’m sure he’s amazing,” she said easily, believing he probably was.

“Uncle Greg knew right then and there that Marc had found someone he cared about very much. In fact, he cared about you enough that whoever these people are knew sending that wedding couple with the wife beheaded would kick Marc’s protector mode into full effect. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“To happen to me?” Now London laughed, shaking her head, ready to deny Natasha’s implication in spite of how her tummy suddenly filled with butterflies. “Marc and I have only known each other a couple weeks. He’s a great guy, but there isn’t that kind of bond between us.”

“Yet,” Natasha finished for her.

And London hated that the word was on the tip of her tongue. She focused on traffic, her thoughts frazzled all over again. Marc’s blue eyes burned with emotions when she’d tried telling him before they were attacked that she didn’t want this kind of life. He’d made it clear with a few words he didn’t want to let her go.

“Uncle Greg worked a case down in Mexico almost a year ago. One of the world’s most infamous assassins was killed when they were down there hunting him. Before he died, he suggested to Uncle Greg that he was part of a sordid game. It was like a board game, but instead of plastic pieces they were using human beings.”

“Marc told me something about that.” London slowed at the next intersection, trying to remember if this was her turn or if it was the next block. “Marty Byrd, right?”

Natasha gave her an odd look.

“What?” London demanded when Natasha was quiet for a longer period of time than she’d been since they met at the airport.

“Marc doesn’t talk to anyone about his cases. None of them do,” she said quietly.

London hated how her cheeks burned. She stopped almost too fast at the red light ahead of them and turned to stare at Natasha head-on.

“I didn’t even know what he did for a living until he decided to come get me and bring me down here. And then I went on a leap of faith. Honestly, if I hadn’t found the KFA Web site and called and talked to you, which helped me believe the legitimacy of all of this, I don’t know if I would have agreed to come down here.”

“I’m glad you did.” Natasha sounded serious for the first time. “The action figures really spooked my uncle. He took it as a personal stab and believed the same jab was directed toward Marc. Whoever sent those pictures and action figures was sending a very cryptic message. But they made one thing very clear. You and Aunt Haley were in serious trouble, or you two both would be if Uncle Greg and Marc didn’t cooperate or see out some agenda. The person who sent everything was telling us you both would be hurt, or worse,” she added, lowering her voice, “if we don’t do what they want.”

“This is all just so fucked up,” London said, blowing out an exasperated sigh. “These people are dangerous and seriously sick in the head. If they went to all the work they did to clean up that motel room, who is to say they also didn’t go to the effort to booby-trap the room somehow?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. But we have a few traps of our own we can set.”

London wasn’t sure what to think of Natasha when she looked at her smug grin. Her light brown eyes were almost golden, and they glowed when the corner of her mouth curved. She gave London a crooked smile that reminded her of how Jake looked when he was pleased with himself.

“I’m going to teach you all about this line of work,” Natasha said, pulling her attention from London and reaching for her purse, which was on the floor by her feet. “The King family all use scramblers in their cell phones. Let me see yours.”

“You mean so no one can listen in when you talk?”

“Exactly.”

London pulled into a busy convenience store lot and parked alongside the building. They could see the motel across the street. She pulled her phone out and handed it over, then watched as Natasha disassembled it, installed a flat disk underneath the SIM card, and put the phone back together.

She handed London’s phone back to her. “Not only do these awesome little gizmos scramble our calls so no one can eavesdrop; they also have a tracking device in them.”

“Like a GPS?” London asked, flipping her phone in her hand and glancing up when several teenagers hurried around their car and into the store.

“Yes. Something like that.”

“So do you know where Marc and Jake are?” London’s heart skipped a beat as she shot an anxious look at Natasha.

Natasha was so beautiful. When she smiled it made her appear classy and graceful. It was hard picturing this woman hunting criminals. Maybe what she was doing right now was her part of the job in this business. It sounded exciting playing with gadgets and searching on the computer to track down criminals.

“Their tracking devices are still operating.” She suddenly looked really excited as she hugged her purse to her chest. “This isn’t the safest place and I really don’t want to check into a hotel just yet. We’d be making ourselves the bait instead of the hunters. Let’s find a park, or somewhere a bit more secluded. I’ll show you how this works and we should be able to track down their exact location.”

“I won’t promise you I won’t get lost,” London said as she began backing out of the stall. “This is a pretty good-sized city.”

“That’s why we have our handy GPS navigator here,” Natasha said, and began pushing buttons on the GPS fixed to the dash. “And in case you’re curious, I’ve got a scrambler installed in this baby, too. No one can pick up on any course we plot and learn where we’re going.”

London was more than a little impressed. She was backing out of the stall just as a pickup truck turned into the parking lot.

“Crap,” she hissed, slamming on the brake to avoid hitting the truck.

She looked over her shoulder, her heartbeat accelerating as a cold sweat broke out over her flesh. They’d just missed hitting that truck, which would have meant calling the police if they’d been in an accident. Not to mention, she wouldn’t want to have to tell Marc she’d wrecked his perfect Mustang.

Another car pulled away from one of the gas pumps and the crashing sound was like an explosion in London’s head.

“Wow,” Natasha said, staring at the pickup truck they’d just missed and the car from the gas pump with their front ends attached.

“No shit,” London breathed, watching as several college-aged boys piled out of the car, ranting and raving as they started at the pickup truck.

London looked over her shoulder carefully, not sure her nerves could handle much more today but something was telling her she needed to toughen up quickly in order to handle what lay ahead. She backed out of the stall, avoiding the rear end of the truck, and turned to leave the parking lot. Two large men got out of the truck, both of them mean-looking and ugly. Instead of focusing on the college kids who were making a big deal out of a fender bender, both men were staring at her as she headed out of the lot.

“God, blame us for your accident,” Natasha sneered, and fastened her seat belt.

Something crawled over London’s flesh as they left the convenience store and took off down the street. There were jerks on the street all the time. Just because that truck came flying into the parking lot just as she was trying to back out of her stall didn’t mean anything. The men glared at her as if they were pissed she was leaving. That didn’t necessarily mean anything either.

What if they were the men trying to find her ever since she ran from the motel room? And if they were trying to find her, why hadn’t they been at the motel room when she’d gone back for her purse and her and all of their luggage?

“There is a school-crossing sign,” Natasha said, pointing out her window.

London was all for cutting off the main road as quickly as possible and getting lost on side streets. An unsettling feeling continued brewing inside her that she didn’t like.

“This might work,” London said, forcing her grip to relax on the steering wheel as she slowed to the speed limit and checked out a quiet park to their right.