Don't Let Go (18 page)

“So,” he said, fighting to keep the squeak from his voice. “We headed to Maui? ’Cause I forgot my trunks.”

The man’s lips tweaked up at the corners. “I see you share your friend Peter’s sense of humor.”

“Who?” Teo said, swallowing hard.
Did they catch Peter and Noa, too?

The man made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t be tedious, Teodoro. This will proceed much more smoothly if we can forego the banalities.”

“Was that even English?” Teo asked.

A smirk, then the man said, “I continually forget to compensate for the failings of our educational system. Put bluntly, I’d very much like to know where Noa Torson is.”

So they don’t have her.
Teo heaved a sigh of relief. “No clue.”

“But you admit to knowing her?” The man adjusted his cufflinks. His stare was unnerving, like a probe. Teo shifted his gaze to the floor and shrugged.

“Teenagers,” the man sighed. “I really am so tired of dealing with them.” Motioning to the flunkies behind him, he said something in a low voice.

One of the guys nodded. He was huge and bald, straining the limits of a gray suit. As he stepped toward Teo, he dug something out of his pocket and pressed a button: a switchblade.

Seeing it, everything inside Teo turned to ice. But he raised his chin and said defiantly, “You should’ve just killed me in Flagstaff. Getting blood out of leather is going to be a bitch.”

The big guy leaned over, holding the knife right in front of Teo’s nose. Teo went rigid—
What is he going to do, slice it off? Jesus, can a person live without a nose?
—then the guy lowered the blade. Suddenly, the pressure on his wrists eased; the plastic ties had been cut.

Warily, Teo rubbed some feeling back into his hands. The cut on his arm had stopped bleeding, it must not have been as deep as he thought. Still hurt like hell, though.

“Better?” the seated man asked with a thin smile.

Teo chose not to answer. It wasn’t like they’d done him some big favor; after all, he was still in a goddamn plane, flying God knew where. Unarmed, and flanked by guys who could literally rip him in half if they wanted to.

The man tapped a finger against his armrest. “So did he scream?”

“Who?” Teo asked, puzzled.

“Peter.” Another creepy smile as he continued, “I’d imagine that having the tracking device removed was quite painful for him.”

Teo repressed a shudder; Pike had a real thing for hiring psychos. “He didn’t scream.”

“I very much doubt that. I know Peter fairly well, you see. You could say we’re old friends.”

Teo suddenly made the connection: fancy suit, slicked back hair, shark eyes. Just like Peter had described him. “You’re Mason.”

Mason looked pleased. “I am indeed.”

“Peter said you were probably dead.”

A shadow flitted across Mason’s face, but his voice maintained the same even tenor as he said drily, “Fortunately, Peter was mistaken. I’m not an easy man to kill.”

“Yeah? Last I heard, you were tied to a banister. Must’ve been pretty humiliating.”

Mason narrowed his eyes. “Not one of my finer hours, but it worked out in the end.”

“Sure. You’re Pike’s errand boy again. Must be great.” Teo felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing Mason’s jaw go tight. “Bet he’ll be pumped when you bring me back instead of Noa.”

“Oh, but you’re going to help me locate Miss Torson.”

“Not a chance.” Teo snorted. “You’re going to kill me no matter what.”

Mason contemplated him, like Teo was a nippy dog who refused to heel. “Frankly, it’s been an extremely long day. I’d prefer to keep things civil if possible.”

“Trust me,” Teo said. “I can make it a lot longer.”

As he lunged forward, Mason’s eyes flew open; Teo got a nice close-up of them, right before he ducked his head and slammed it into Mason’s nose. Mason’s head snapped back, his jaw making a satisfying clacking sound as his teeth knocked together.

The thugs were already in motion; they had Teo pinned before Mason’s head came back down. It was worth it, though, to see blood streaming from the bastard’s nose.

Mason glared at Teo as he rose from his seat. He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand while curling the other into a fist.

Bracing for a blow, Teo said, “I was kind of hoping you’d scream. Bet that’s painful, huh?”

The veneer of complacency was gone; there was murder in Mason’s eyes as he growled, “You’re going to regret that.”

“Like I said,” Teo said with forced bravado. “I’m basically already dead. You can’t kill me twice.”

“True. But Peter should have mentioned that I like to cover my bases.” Mason dabbed his nose with a spotless white handkerchief. Drawing it back to examine the blood, he snarled, “Go get the girl.”

“Oh, man,” Peter groaned.

Noa cast a worried glance at him. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’d reclined the seat back at a forty-five degree angle and was clutching his injured arm with his good hand. “It’s bad, huh?”

“Really bad,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“I think I can put it back in,” Noa said, although the thought made her cringe. “We just have to find somewhere to do it.”

“We should get off the road anyway,” Peter said. “Too dangerous.”

So far there had been no more Humvees in the rearview mirror. They’d turned off onto smaller roads, cutting a serpentine path through the Rocky Mountains. “We could head back to Denver,” she suggested.

“Too crowded.”

“Might throw them off track, though.”

“They know we stick to cities.” Peter shook his head. “That’s where they’ll look. Besides, we can’t exactly wander into an internet café looking like this.”

He was right, Noa thought, taking him in. Aside from the horrible way his shoulder jutted out, his clothes were covered in mud, and his face was a mess of cuts and abrasions. She probably looked the same.

Their best bet was to stay away from urban areas. But neither of them was exactly cut out for the backcountry. And they had limited supplies: no food or water, nothing but the beat-up sleeping bags stowed in their packs.

“Did that sign say Vail?” he asked.

“I didn’t see it,” Noa admitted. She should be paying more attention to the road, but the fatigue was encroaching again. It was all she could do to keep the car in the right lane as they wound through the mountains.

Peter was digging through the glove box with his good hand. “I’m pretty sure it did. Hang on—”

He awkwardly unfolded a map of Colorado in his lap. “That’s Loki’s place,” he said, pointing to a spot northwest of Denver, “and we’re here now. Which means if we can get back on the Six, it’ll lead us straight to Vail.”

“Um, okay,” Noa said. “But last I checked, we didn’t have a grand to drop on a hotel room.”

“Won’t need it,” Peter said smugly.

“Why not?” Based on what little she’d heard, Vail was an expensive playground for the absurdly wealthy.

“You keep forgetting I’m rich.” Peter closed his eyes as he leaned back against the seat. “I’m going to try and go to my happy place. Let me know when we’re close.”

Daisy struggled as the guy dragged her up the center aisle, pushing through the curtains at the front of the plane. They’d given her some sort of shot; she still felt woozy, and none of her kicks seemed to land.

Buried under the stupor was rage: They’d been so close. If it wasn’t for those dumb rednecks the bug would be gone and they’d be on a bus right now. Instead, she’d found herself running, again. The boy chasing her had caught up and knocked her to the ground. He’d punched her twice, hard, making her head spin. Then he’d started to yank up her skirt. . . .

After that, she didn’t remember much. Bright lights, and a stab in her thigh. She’d awoken with her hands tied behind her back and a bag on her head.

Before she could start screaming, the bag was pulled off, and a huge brute of a guy yanked her painfully to her feet. Daisy had frantically examined her surroundings; they were on some sort of plane.

The guy shoved her through the curtain. She spotted Teo being held down in a leather seat. He blanched at the sight of her and shouted, “Leave her alone!”

Daisy bucked against the guy holding her. “Let me go, you idiot! We’re on an airplane, where the hell am I going to run?”

“Let her go.”

The words came from the guy facing Teo. Daisy walked forward on shaky legs, stopping beside the two of them. The man was older and disarmingly attractive, well-dressed in a suit. He regarded her calmly, despite the fact that he was holding a bloodstained white handkerchief to his nose. Daisy felt a flash of pride; Teo must have done that.

“Teodoro and I were just having a chat,” the man said blandly. “Please join us.”

“Man.” She shook her head. “It’s like you guys all went to the same creepy bad guy charm school or something. Did you seriously just say that?”

His eyes narrowed, and Teo choked back a laugh. She threw him a look, trying to convey everything she was thinking.
Be strong. We’re going to get out of this
.

Although it was kind of tricky to imagine how.

Still
, Daisy thought, squaring her shoulders,
it could be worse
. At least they were together.

The man regarded her like she was a slug he’d just found in his salad. “As I was telling Teodoro here, we’re trying to locate Noa Torson. I was going to talk to you separately, but, well”—he withdrew the handkerchief from his nose and frowned at it—“he’s being difficult.”

“Do the kids you kidnap usually cooperate?” Daisy demanded.

“Given a choice, yes, they do,” he observed coolly. “And I’m going to give you both that choice now.” He turned back to Teo. “Either you tell us where Miss Torson is, or I have them slit her throat.”

Teo stiffened. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

As one of the goons unclipped a knife from his belt, Daisy’s knees shook, betraying her. She couldn’t stop staring at the blade. It was long and shiny. She backed away as he stepped toward her.

“We don’t know where Noa is,” Teo protested, panic in his voice. “I swear!”

“Please,” the man said in a bored voice. “Don’t waste my time.”

The guy with the knife advanced on her. Daisy took another step back, but found her path blocked by the massive man who had dragged her up here. As the blade moved toward her throat, she sucked in her breath.

“Stop!” Teo yelled. “Please, don’t!”

“Tell us where she is,” the man pressed.

“Don’t tell him, Teddy! They’re just going to kill us anyway!” Daisy fought to keep the fear from her voice. At least this way it would be quick, and she wouldn’t be experimented on, right? She and Teo would die together.

The tip of the blade touched her throat, making her gasp.

“They’re in Colorado!” Teo shouted.

“No!” Daisy yelled.

The man nodded, and the knife withdrew. “Where in Colorado, specifically.”

The words tumbled out of Teo’s mouth in a rush. “Outside Denver, in some sort of silo. I can show you on a map, but you have to promise—”

“I didn’t ask where she
was
,” the man interrupted scornfully. “I asked where she is
now
. They left the silo hours ago.”

Teo threw her a relieved look. “That’s the last place we saw them. They didn’t tell us where they were going next.”

“Really?” The man cocked an eyebrow. “That seems . . . convenient.”

“That was the deal,” Teo insisted. “We split up, didn’t tell each other where we were going.”

The man examined them each in turn, then said, “I’m tempted to believe you.”

“Well, you should, because it’s the truth.”

“Noa’s too smart, you’ll never catch her,” Daisy added, unable to resist.

“In that you are mistaken.” A fresh trickle of blood slid out of the man’s nose; he stemmed it with the handkerchief. “She will be found. But more to the point, it appears that you can’t help us.”

“We won’t help you,” Daisy snapped. Teo was straining against the guy pinning him to the seat, an anguished expression on his face.

“Well then, I suppose it’s settled.” The man leaned back and closed his eyes. “Take them to the back of the plane. We’ll deal with them after we land.”

“This is a bad idea,” Noa said nervously.

“Relax. We’ll be fine, unless they changed the alarm code,” Peter reassured her. They were in front of his buddy Rick’s ski house in Vail. They’d spent ten minutes watching for any sign of movement: nothing, and the only lights inside were the ones he knew were kept on timers.

“And if they changed the code, and the alarm goes off?” Noa demanded.

“Then we run back to the car and drive away.” But Peter wasn’t really worried. The key had been in the usual place, tucked under a planter on the front porch. He’d known the Shapiros since he was a kid; they were old money, which generally translated into lazy. Not the type to bother updating alarm codes on their various properties, because it was too much of a hassle to keep track of them.

There was a keypad above the deadbolt; a handy thing to have in a vacation place, since you didn’t have to worry about bringing a set of keys. Peter typed in the code: 6-1-97, his buddy Rick’s birthday. Which, as a hacker, he found almost criminally negligent. Really, if a couple of teenagers on the run broke into the Shapiros’ house, it was their own damn fault for making it so easy.

A click: He turned the latch. The light in the foyer automatically clicked on, and the alarm pad opposite the door started beeping.

Noa stayed on the porch as Peter limped across the threshold. He flipped up the cover and punched in 4-4-94, Rick’s sister’s birthday.

The light stayed red: The alarm continued beeping.

“Great,” Noa groaned. “How long until the cops get here?”

Peter waved for her to be quiet. This
had
been the alarm code, he was sure of it; on their ski trip last year, he’d teased Rick mercilessly about how anyone with access to Facebook could get into the house, no problem.

Rick must’ve told his parents, and that prompted them to change it, Peter realized with a sinking heart. The countdown on the pad said he had less than thirty seconds to enter the correct code. He tried to focus, pushing past the pain in his shoulder. What else would they use?