Olivia Twisted (Entangled Teen) (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“And now, for the first time, Oliver, well-nigh mad with grief and terror, saw that housebreaking and robbery, if not murder, were the objects of the expedition.”

—Charles Dickens,
Oliver Twist

JACK

The fifteen minutes Liv was gone were the longest of my life. Bill kept the barrel of his gun pointed at me, never moving except to occasionally receive calls on his cell. My hands shook every time it rang, expecting to hear that Liv broke the rules, that she made a call, that she ran.

I wished she would run.

I start to breathe again when she walks back to the car and taps on the window. The doors unlock and she crawls in next to me, nodding once to Bill and handing the flash drive over. I clasp her shaking hand in mine, relieved that she doesn’t pull away. Once we get back to Monroe Street, I can escape with her. I know it.

I watch the late afternoon sun drop as we head back west, when the driver suddenly turns south. I sit up straight and stare at Bill. “Where are we going?”

Bill laughs shortly. “You didn’t think I was just going to drop you off at home, did you? We’re going to my office. I need to verify that it worked before letting you go.”

My heart sinks. No one has ever seen Bill’s office. There’s a reason for that. Fear wraps its cold hand around me as I realize there’s not going to be a return trip for us. I should’ve realized that the moment Bill found out we let Liv go, we were already dead. My brain starts working overtime to come up with something to get us out of this nightmare.

Liv is watching me. “What?” she whispers.

I shake my head and look out the window as we turn into an old, seedy neighborhood, stopping in front of an apartment building. Bill says something to the driver, who nods and tosses the keys to him. He waves his gun at us, not even bothering to hide it, and we step out of the car and walk ahead of him up the weed-choked walk to the entry. My eyes dart around, but there’s not a single person in sight. In fact, it looks as though the neighborhood is abandoned. Probably why it suits him.

At Bill’s direction, we climb the dirty, echoing stairwell to the fifth floor, emerging into a dark hallway that smells like wet soccer cleats left in the heat to mold. I can hear a TV playing through the walls and some guy shouting, and a woman yells back at him in another language. Bill unlocks the last door and motions us through. The smell of crisp computer equipment hits me before I even walk in, and now I can see why.

Bill types the number into the pad to disengage the alarm as my eyes take in the massive amount of computer equipment pushed up against the far wall, where a dining room would normally go. A black leather couch faces a television, but other than a computer chair and desk there is no other furniture in the room. This must be Bill’s headquarters. I’ve heard he has multiple addresses. Why the hell would he keep this much expensive equipment in such a shitty neighborhood?

Bill gestures with his gun to a doorway just off the living room and we step inside a small, windowless bathroom. He flips the light on—“Keep your mouths shut”—before slamming the door. Liv’s eyes stay focused on the door. I take her hand. She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t meet my eyes, either.

My heart thuds slowly in my chest. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be safe. I know you hate me for getting you into this mess, and now everything’s backfired.” The regret eats into my stomach like acid. I’ve screwed everything up, again. Maybe for the last time.

She leans on me, her head against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, as tight as I can without hurting her. “I don’t blame you,” she says. “Not anymore.” She pulls away and stares at the ceiling. “I guess it’s too much to hope for a wide ventilation system that we can crawl through, huh?”

I laugh halfheartedly, but I glance up at the ceiling just in case. Other than the main door we just came through, there’s nothing but a tiny air-conditioner vent in the room.

Liv moves closer to the toilet and lifts her shirt slightly. I turn around, my face heating up. If she has to go, I guess she has to go.

“Why’d you turn around?” she asks, her voice amused. I peer over my shoulder to see her standing, fully clothed. A cell phone is in her hand.

A cell phone!
“Where’d you get that?”

Her grin deepens. “It’s the one from Nancy. You gave it to me when I first got to your house, remember? I still had it in my room. Bill’s pretty stupid not to realize there might be another cell in the house.”

I laugh out loud, then clap my hand over my mouth. I move to Liv and grab her, kissing her hard. “You kick ass, you know that?” I whisper. I hold my hand out for the phone.

“What are you doing?” she asks, jerking it away.

“Calling Nancy. Why, who do you want to call?”

She looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “The police, obviously.”

“What? No way. You call the police and they’ll find Monroe Street.”

“I don’t give a damn about them finding Monroe Street,” she says, her voice rising. “I don’t want to
die
. Do you?”

“Liv, give me the—”

“You can call Nancy and warn her when I’m done. But I’m calling the police. Got it?”

Obviously she doesn’t see the bigger picture here. They need to get the hell away from the house. I try to stay calm. “Nancy can get us out of this.”

Her laugh is bitter. “You mean like how she handled Bill as he drugged me and dragged me back to your house? Or when he beat her up after he figured out how much she helped us? What makes you think she can handle this?”

I grit my teeth to control my irritation before saying, ”Nancy could’ve handled it fine, but I’m sure her concern about the other kids in the house was pretty good persuasion.” I grab again for the phone but she steps back.

“This is
my
phone.
I
will make the call. You figure out your own plan if you want. But I’m calling the police.”

Bill’s sudden and loud cursing cuts us off. I go to press the lock button in the handle while Liv taps furiously on the phone. The blood pounding in my ears, I can barely hear her giving her name and asking the police to trace the line. I run back to her as Bill tries the handle. She’s whispering a description of the location. Bill bangs on the door, but we stay pressed against the far wall of the bathroom.

It is quiet for a moment, then a light scraping sound of metal on metal sounds from the door. Liv slips the phone into her pocket just as the lock clicks and Bill opens the door, a metal hanger in his hand. He throws the hanger into the tub, his eyes blazing.

“What happened to the account?” he yells, waving his gun at Liv’s face.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.
Oh, shit, what did she do?

“You alerted someone, didn’t you?”

I hold my hands up. “Hang on a second, Bill. She didn’t do anything. Something’s just wrong with the system. Try it again.”

He opens his mouth to speak, then lowers his eyes. “What the hell is that?” he asks, pointing at Liv’s shorts.

“Nothing,” she says, her voice shaking. She sucks at lying.

He holds the gun up to her face. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Liv dips a hand into her pocket and pulls out her cell. Bill’s face is rage-purple. She drops it on the floor and kicks it away, toward him. He stoops to pick it up, never taking his eyes or the gun off us. He checks the display, his face paling, then presses a button on the top of the phone. He places the phone into his pocket.

“I see,” he says, his voice an eerie calm. “You thought you’d call the police. How very clever of you.” He raises the gun higher and points it at Liv, then me. I swallow hard and stare at the bullets turning in the barrel as he pulls the action back. “You can watch your boyfriend die now.”

…

Liv

I clutch at Jack’s hand while the gun makes the ominous clicking sounds that only mean death. With the round iron glaring at Jack, I’m barely able to get the words out. “The police traced the call. You don’t have time to drag bodies out of the building.”

Saying the word “bodies” makes me queasy. But Bill’s eyebrows pinch together slightly as he considers this.

“Well, aren’t you the smart one?” he says softly, stepping aside and waving the gun toward the door. “If they’ve traced the line, they’re on their way. Out, both of you.”

We march in front of him. I wish I could ram him when I pass by, making him lose his grip on the gun, but that’s a move I’ve only seen in movies and would definitely screw up.

At the door, Bill grunts at us to stop while he reaches over with one hand to tap something on his computer.

“I never warned them,” Jack whispers, his face ashen. I know he’s referring to Monroe Street. I do wish he’d been able to call them. I wish there had been time, though I hope he realizes we had to call the police first. Dutch’s face flashes in my mind, and I can only hope they stay safe.

Bill marches us in front of him down to his car. No one is in sight, so he keeps the gun pointed at us. Maybe this is why he chose this spot for his office. From the distance, I can hear sirens. Bill obviously hears them, too. He curses, grabbing me and pressing the barrel of the gun against my head. My heart starts pumping double time. The sirens get closer, maybe only a couple blocks away.

“Get in the car and drive where I tell you, or she dies,” Bill hisses to Jack, tossing the keys to him.

Jack catches them, giving me a nod and a small smile. I try, but I can’t seem to force my lips up in response. The word “dies” is echoing in my brain. I have no doubt Bill will kill us.

“Wait,” Bill says, his voice sharp. He yanks my hair back and says, “Give me the keys. She drives.”

Me?
Before I know it, Bill is pushing me into the front seat, his gun on me, then Jack. He tosses the keys to me and gets in the backseat with Jack. My shaking fingers fumble with the keys. I can barely get them in the ignition. I haven’t driven since Bernadette tried to teach me last year, and I really sucked at it. I glance in the rearview mirror as I finally manage to get the car started.

Bill’s gun remains on Jack, who is directly behind me. “No funny business. Got it?”

I nod and press the gas too hard. The car jerks forward. I can see blue and red flashes behind me as I approach the next street, but it looks like the police stopped at the apartment building. Another car with flashing lights flies by us, headed back toward the building as well.
We’re here. We’re here
, I scream in my mind, wanting to honk the horn to attract their attention. Instead, I follow Bill’s instructions and take a right.

As I drive, the knowledge that we’re done for hits me hard. I’m sure Bill’s only plan now is escape, so once he’s free of the police, he’ll have no more use for either of us. As soon as we’re out of range, we’re dead. Our only chance is to somehow escape before we get to that point. As I drive, my eyes dart around the passing streets and buildings. Bill’s finger is on the trigger. Slight pressure and Jack is dead. It’ll have to be such a shock that he won’t be able to think clearly enough to pull the trigger. Should I ram it into a building? A tree? It might kill us, too, though.

Jesus, I don’t know how to handle this kind of stuff.

“Make a left and follow the bridge out of the city. Faster.”

As I turn the car, I can see the bridge stretching over the James River. This is it. On the other side is nothing. We’ll be free and clear.

And dead. Murdered, like abducted teens in some made-for-TV movie.

Like flipping a switch, an idea is illuminated as clear as if it were written on the bridge in neon.

“Z, you should put your seat belt on,” I say. Jack looks at my reflection in the rearview mirror, his face incredulous. I narrow my eyes and I think I hear a latch click. I clench the wheel harder to keep my hands from trembling.

“Shut up and drive,” Bill snaps.

I can’t even swallow—it’s like wads of cotton have been rammed down my throat. I press the gas pedal hard and the car jumps forward as we approach the bridge. The speedometer needle rises as quickly as my heart rate. I push the pedal harder, my eyes on the bridge railing that’s under construction. It’s our best chance out. Bill’s not wearing a seat belt. Jack and I are.

This will either be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done or the bravest.

I’m counting on bravest.

I take a shaky breath as the click-clack sound echoes beneath the car. Almost there.

I lower my window and Jack’s, ignoring Bill’s shouts for me to close them. Jack’s wide eyes meet mine in the mirror, his mouth gaping open. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as the traffic clears in front of me. I almost change my mind.

We’re going to die anyway.

I set my teeth together and cut the steering wheel hard, flattening the gas pedal. Bill starts to curse loudly but he’s cut off as the car crashes through the construction barriers. The metal rails scream against the car as it careers off the bridge and plummets toward the river.

I close my eyes, praying we make it. Praying that I don’t hear a gun exploding.

Somebody screams. It might be me.

Something thuds heavily against the front seat as we tilt forward.

The smash of the impact on the water triggers the airbag, which is crammed into my face and whooshes the air out of my lungs. I can’t breathe.

I can’t…

Darkness.

Hands. Hands are slapping me.

A voice. Soft. Urgent. “Liv!”

My name.

I open my eyes and cough. White powder puffs from my lips.

I’m still alive.

The car is bobbing up and down like a rubber duck in a tub. I cough again and rub powder out of my face. My head is throbbing; a wet trickle is making its way down my face. Jack is next to me, his hands unlatching my seat belt. He pulls me to him.

“Liv! Are you okay?” he asks, his voice trembling. “Answer me!”

He sounds so scared. I start to answer but end up coughing again. I nod instead, and he cries out in relief.

“You stupid, crazy girl,” he says, his fingers examining my head, my face. “What were you thinking?”