Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(95)

Violet’s in the chair the blond abandoned and she’s listening intently and nodding along to Barlow’s instructions again. They’ve gone over it a hundred times, and I’m fine with them going over it a hundred more.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the blond returning down the hallway. I keep my eyes and posture turned on Violet. He’s got to think I don’t know he exists. Because the opening to enter is wide, he doesn’t shrink away from me.

In a movement so fast that I’m not even aware I’m moving, I use my foot to edge a box an inch in his direction and he stumbles on it. I react, grabbing his arm to help keep him from landing on the floor, and slip his cell into his back pocket, and as I help right him, I use the hand that had the cell to pat his back. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He glances down to the box full of paper to be recycled and kicks it out of the way. “Cramped spaces.”

“I get it. I share a tight two-bedroom condo with my mom.”

Violet glances up at me, oblivious to all that just took place. I wink at her for reassurance and she brightens before returning her attention to the detective.

She’s leaving in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes.

God help the souls of the Riot if she’s not back in my arms in an hour.





Violet

DROP THE NAMES Justin and Skull at least once, confirm with them what they are going to do with the account numbers, give them the account numbers, leave. The police will confirm I’m not being tailed, and the Riot will go off and hopefully try to use the account numbers the police tech people are now monitoring. Once the Riot do start to manipulate the accounts, the police swoop in, take the hard drives and make arrests.

It’s simple. Simple, simple, simple.

Except I’m the one who is sticking my neck on the chopping block and the Riot love to chop with their sharp, shiny knives.

I expected the Riot to choose a warehouse, because that’s what happens on TV. I also expected wires taped to me, but it turns out I’m wrong on both counts. The Riot chose a pick-your-own-goldfish fish store.

A fish store.

It’s beyond odd.

A bell dings when I enter, and if it wasn’t for the fact I’m scared to death, I’d probably be captivated by all the beautifully designed tanks that house hundreds of colorful fish. There’s a girl behind the counter, college age maybe, with dyed purple hair. She looks up from her book and gives a salesperson smile. “Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m here to meet Justin and Skull.” Points for me. I already dropped their names in the first words I spoke.

She hops down from her stool. “Wow, I haven’t heard anyone call him Justin in a while. They’re in the back and told me someone would be looking for them. Follow me.”

I do and we weave past the filled tanks to the supply area. To the left I spot a few frogs. “Do they own this place?”

“Yep. Skull loves fish. Sometimes he’ll come in and just sit and stare at them and not say a word to anyone.”

Creepy, but whatever floats his boat.

She knocks on a door and after a gruff “Come in” she opens it and waves her arm for me to walk in. Justin sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and from behind the desk, Skull’s working on a computer.

“Hey!” Justin smiles like we’re old friends. “Have a seat. Dad and I were just talking business.”

Who to kill next? How they should break into my house next time? “Okay.”

“Thanks, Cindy.” Justin winks. “Close the door behind you when you leave and make sure we’re not bothered for a bit.”

She sort of does this weird bustle of happiness at his attention and shuts the door with Broadway flare.

Justin stands and he takes out some sort of device. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got to sweep you for bugs.”

“Paranoid much?” I say.

“Well, you did talk to the police. Arms out, please. This won’t take but a second.”

“To be fair, I only talked to the police because you kidnapped me.” I work hard to keep my breathing steady even though my pulse pounds in my ears. Justin slowly moves his black device up and around my body.

Jake Barlow explained this would happen and that this is why we were recording only and not transmitting the conversation live for the detective to hear. He said the Riot would be searching for radio waves or something like that.

“Talking to the police, being around the police,” I continue even though I’m aware if I’m busted these might be my last words. “Those things sort of happen when you take someone against their will.”

“She’s clean,” he says to his father, then back to me. “Yeah, I see your point. As a side note, we’re going to need you to recant your statement from the police, refuse to testify, something like that. Try to convince your boyfriend to do the same. We’re going to do some work from our side, but we need those charges on our guys dropped.”

My fingers curl because I want to kill him. “I thought you said they were going against your orders and deserved jail.”

“They were, but they’ve served some time in lockup, since they weren’t granted bail, and they are now ready to accept responsibility for their actions and have agreed not to disobey.”

“Disobey, like not point a gun and shoot it at me.”