Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(55)
“So that’s the loose end,” Maldonado murmured, looking pleased. “Switching IDs. How cleverly stupid of them.”
Nico handed Maldonado a copy of Elle’s driver’s license. “Now we just have to find her.”
Maldonado stared at the picture. Son of a bitch. “I think we just did.”
Chapter Fourteen
They were headed up north. At some point Elle had realized yelling at him wasn’t going to do squat. He wasn’t going to answer or stop, or drive slower for that matter. Jumping out of the truck wasn’t an option and even if he stopped for gas and she managed to slip away from him—which she doubted she could because judging by the murderous look in his eyes he would only walk away from her after cuffing her to the wheel—she was dressed in a ball gown and had no money or decent shoes for walking. So she did the only thing she could: cross her arms and give him the silent treatment. Not that it seemed to bother him in the least.
Asshole. Making decisions that concerned her behind her back. And now they were going under, whatever the heck that meant.
After getting off the highway and several hours of driving on secondary roads, she no longer could tell if they were going east or west. Just forest and deserted, crackled asphalt. Until there wasn’t even that, just dirt and rocks and deeper forest.
He took a sharp left onto a steep, narrow road, the branches and twigs scraping at the truck until they reached an A-frame cabin in the middle of nowhere.
So that was what going under meant.
He killed the engine, reached in the back, and opened some sort of compartment she hadn’t noticed before, grabbed several duffel bags, and gestured for her to get out.
She remained furiously still.
“It gets very cold up here, and there isn’t a human being for miles. Move it.”
She was angry, granted, but stupid she wasn’t, so she followed him.
“What’s this place?” she asked, as he unlocked the front door.
“Hunting cabin. Generator should kick in soon.” He dropped the bags and produced a flashlight.
She glanced around. No TV. No computer. Heck, no decent sofa either. Two wooden benches flanking a massive table. A fireplace with several O-rings in a wooden beam with some utensils hanging from them, and a mini-kitchen that must have been a century old.
His Pilgrim wife would love to live there, skinning the rabbits he would hunt and cooking over the fireplace, or sewing quilts on the porch, swaying in the rocking chair he would make for her.
“Do we pull water from a well?”
“No. Rain-recycling system. Toilet outside.”
Of course.
Jack went to the back and probably did something, because the lights kicked in. Sadly, the place didn’t improve one bit; it got worse. Now she knew what Heidi had felt, stepping into her grandpa’s cabin for the first time.
“I’ll grab some wood,” he said, striding for the front door.
“So you know, I don’t eat rabbit.”
He frowned, turning to her. “What?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled.
While he was outside in what she supposed was the woodshed, she inspected her surroundings. Jack had left the duffel bags in the only bedroom, on top of the hardest bed she’d ever tried. Then again, she hadn’t been in the Siberian gulag. Maybe they had harder ones.
The celestial sound of a phone buzzing almost stopped her heart. Oh God, there was service. That was her ticket out of the Stone Age.
She rummaged through the bag where the buzz was coming from, trying to ignore all the guns in there. On the flip side, if he refused to let her go, she could shoot him.
Finally, she fished out a satellite phone. She didn’t recognize the name on the screen but answered nevertheless.
“Yes?”
“Elle?” said a female voice. “Ronnie here. You guys okay?”
“Define okay.”
“What do you mean? Is my brother there?”
“Yes, the ass is out front.”
A startled pause and then a soft chuckle. “What has he done?”
“Ha! What hasn’t he done would be more accurate. When I finish talking with you, I’m calling 911 and tell them I’ve been kidnapped by the Unabomber.”
Ronnie broke into laughter. “So you are at the cabin.”
“Unfortunately. How do you know?”
“I’ve been there. And Jack sent me an encrypted message, which means he’s disappearing.”
“Lucky you. I didn’t even get three words out of him.” It seemed Elle was the only one left in the dark.
She really didn’t know squat about this guy. Not a damn thing.
“Jack is not big on giving explanations. But he’s damn good.”
“I’m not big on being ordered around and ignored. Why haven’t you been ‘ordered’ to hide?”
Ronnie snorted. “You remember V-2’s huge bouncer? Jack pays him, and his job is not only to watch the door, believe me. He’s on my ass twenty-four seven.”
It figured.
“Say,” Elle started. “If you’ve been here, you could come to pick me up.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t find the place if my life depended on it. And the bodyguard from hell wouldn’t take me. Besides, if Jack brought you up there, it means you’re in deep trouble. You’d better stay put.”