The Drafter (31 page)

I'm going to go crazy
. “Ah, guys? I appreciate this, but this is a bad
idea. You're a vet,” Peri said to Howard, “and you plan events,” she added, not liking the headstrong woman's frown. “This is secret agent stuff.

“Ow!” Peri yelped as Taf shoved her to the middle of the truck.

“Get over.” Taf dropped her rifle next to the seat and wiggled that tiny butt of hers into place. “I can get us out of a ditch,” she said, reaching for the gearshift.

“This isn't a game,” Peri said as Taf started rocking the truck and Peri's head began to throb. “People die. Sometimes I'm the one who kills them.”

Howard held the chicken strap, grinning to show his white teeth. “Only the bad ones.”

Taf shrieked in delight as the wheels caught on the last roll, and spitting dirt out the back, they regained the road. “Got it!” she shouted, and the engine thrummed as she floored it.

This is not happening
.

“I almost-minored in evasive driving,” Taf said, performing a neat three-point turn and heading back the way they'd come. Peri looked behind them in the rearview mirror to see the two men cuffed to the van. They had maybe five minutes, max.

“There is no such thing as a minor in evasive driving,” Peri said. “I appreciate you both wanting to help, but this is a bad idea.” Howard probed Peri's head, and she jerked away. “Do you mind?”

“You have a nasty lump,” he said. “How's your light sensitivity?”

“Fine,” she lied. Taf was fiddling with the state-of-the-art sound system, and Peri smacked her hand. “I
said
this isn't a game. They're at hangar three.”

“Got it. No tunes.” Taf popped her gum as if this was a most excellent adventure.

Peri gripped the dash, gut tightening when Taf skimmed a pothole. “Okay, you can drive,” she admitted. “But you stay in the truck. Both of you.”

They didn't stay in the truck. They followed her, whispering all the way to the rear door of hangar three, and they didn't quiet down until Peri threatened to shove Taf's rifle up the ass of the next person who opened their mouth. It had been at least an hour since she'd been
injected, and she didn't know yet with what. She might not be able to draft yet.
Just as well
.

Waving them back, Peri busted the lock on the small entry door, and when no one came to check out the slight noise, she slipped inside.

“Stay here and watch the truck!” Peri hissed at Howard when he tried to follow, but Taf had already inched past Peri and was creeping along the far wall of the building toward the sound of an argument. Giving up, Peri motioned for Howard to stay behind her, and with more help than she wanted, she followed Taf to a pallet of freight.

The hangar door was open and the light streamed in to show a small single-engine plane sitting cockeyed to a black car. She could feel the heat of the engine from where she crouched, and Peri's eyes narrowed when she saw Allen sitting on the rolling stair pulled up to the plane. His leg was in a Flexicast, his hand bandaged. He was having a hard time using his phone. Peri didn't feel sorry about it.
You stole three years of my life
.

Fran stood at the car, clearly frustrated. She had one strong-armed man with her, the guy clearly trying to stay out of her way. Things were not going well in the land of prisoner exchange. The small size of the plane was good, limiting the number of people Peri would have to deal with. If Fran had one man, then Allen probably had one man as well.
In the plane?

One of the borrowed phones in Taf's pocket began to hum. Her eyes wide, she smacked a hand to cover it, but they were too distant for the soft sound to carry.

“They should be here by now,” Fran said, phone to her ear.

Allen shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. “You lost her.”

Fran ended her call, peeved. “They aren't answering because I keep calling.”

“I told you not to confuse forgetfulness with stupidity,” Allen said. “She's extremely intelligent. Did you use the audio binder? Give her the Amneoset?”

“Of course I did,” Fran said, and Peri's flush at his “intelligent” comment vanished. At least she knew the drug was almost out of her system. Amneoset metabolized in an hour.

“I want to see Silas,” Fran demanded. “I have only your word that he's in there.”

“Then show me Peri Reed,” Allen said, clearly hurting. He wasn't taking his meds, probably because painkillers interfered with his ability to recognize twin timelines.
Maybe that's why Jack liked to drink
, she mused. Her face blanked as the thought swirled in her; then she shoved the heartache away. Silas was in that plane, and she had a job to do.

“John!” Fran barked, and Peri jumped. “Retrace our route and see what's keeping them.”

The man bolted into motion, the car door slamming shut and the engine loud as it started in the echoing space. Peri frantically waved for Taf to stay put.
Where does she think she's going?
Howard stopped her, and they began arguing in hushed tones. Peri's eye twitched. She should have shot them both in the foot.

Allen whistled to get the pilot's attention, limping away from the stair and craning his neck to see into the cockpit, but it wasn't nearly far enough away to let her sneak onto the plane. “Tell the tower we're leaving,” he demanded, and Fran frowned, hands on her hips. The car was backing up to the wide door. Things were deteriorating fast.

“What about the exchange?” Fran stalked forward. “I want Silas.”

“And I want Reed, but you lost her.”

Peri's eyes fixed on the plane. Silas was on it. If they left now, she'd never find him.

“You don't know that. Give me five minutes to figure out what's going on,” Fran said.

Allen hobbled forward, his expression creased in mistrust. “Five minutes,” he said, gesturing behind him to the plane. “But my man goes with yours.”

Fran shouted at the car, and it stopped. Peri's heart pounded when a man thumped down the plane's stair, a pistol in his unsnapped shoulder harness. He didn't look like a pilot.

“Go with him,” Allen said brusquely. “If by some miracle you find her, call me and keep your distance. I don't want to lose her again.”

Fran huffed. “I haven't lost her.”

The man hustled to the car and got in. Slowly the car accelerated,
and it was gone. Grimacing, Allen hobbled to the plane. Fran was right behind him. Peri was betting they both had weapons or they wouldn't have sent their people away. Fewer people meant fewer witnesses.

“Taf, give me your rifle,” Peri whispered, her hand extended behind her. Howard made a small noise, and she turned, eyes widening when she saw that Taf was gone. “Where's Taf?”

Finger shaking, Howard pointed across the hangar. Peri's face went cold as she followed his gaze. “Oh no . . . ,” she whispered. Taf's slim form was slipping along the wall.

Howard edged closer, beads faintly clinking. “I couldn't stop her,” he whispered. “She's going to distract them for you so you can get Silas out of the plane.”

Damn it all to hell
. Peri's gut clenched when Taf boldly stepped out into the light, boots clunking. Fran spun and Allen froze, their backs to the plane. “Hey, Mom,” Taf said, her feet spread wide and her stance confident as she hit the southern drawl hard.

“Mom?” Allen questioned, and Peri crept closer.

“This is my daughter,” Fran said drily, not scared nearly enough by her crazy-ass daughter holding a rifle. “She's not supposed to be here.”

“Things change,” Taf said. “I can tell you what your stooges will find. Want some spoilers?” she mocked.

Fran punched buttons on her phone. Taf's pocket began to hum and the older woman became livid with anger. Allen laughed.

“What did you do?” Fran exclaimed, stalking forward until Taf cocked the rifle.

My God, is she going to shoot her mom?
Peri thought, remembering the temptation once or twice herself.

“I'm fixing to stop wasting your time and my life,” Taf said, as satisfied as her mother was angry, but she'd drawn them far enough from the plane, and Peri gave Howard a look to stay before slinking forward. She crept up the stairs, trying not to shift the plane's weight as she eased aboard. Relief was a surprising wash through her when she found Silas bound and gagged in a seat. Finger to her lips, she smiled at his glare. His eyes were angry but clear. New bruises and scrapes showed they'd beaten him, but he wasn't drugged.

Hunched under the low ceiling, Peri held up two fingers, eyebrows high in question. He shook his head, nodding when she held up one.
One man
, she thought, following his glance to the cockpit.
Shouldn't be difficult
. Peri slowly drew out the bottle of wine chilling in the ice bucket.
Rosé? Really?
Allen had no sense of style.

The shifting ice caught the pilot's attention, and he shoved his man-on-man magazine out of sight. “Should I tell the tower we're staying?” he said, so frantic to hide his magazine that he didn't even notice she wasn't Allen until their eyes met. Almost sorry for the guy, she smacked him with the cold, wet bottle, wincing at the reverberation shaking up her arm.

“Never hide who you are,” Peri said as she backed out. Five minutes. He'd be up and bitching in five. She hadn't hit him that hard.

Peri dropped the bottle back in the slush, hands cold but feeling cocky in the relief of doing what she was good at. Hunched from the low ceiling, she returned to Silas. He was waiting impatiently, bound hands held up before him. Still smiling, she knelt before him and pulled the gag away. “Hi,” she said as she started on the knots. “Can you move fast?”

“What are you doing here?” he whispered, and she glanced up, fingers faltering on the rope. “Wearing
that
? Are you crazy?”

“Ah, it's called rescuing your ass in style?” Peri said, flushing as she saw that her skintight white jeans were now smeared with grease and dirt. “I'm a soldier, remember? I don't leave anyone behind.”

His expression went empty, then resolute. Fran's angry “You did what!” echoed. Flustered, Peri gave up on his hands and moved to his feet. He didn't need his hands to run.

“Peri is long gone,” she could hear Taf saying, and Peri began to sweat, fingers fumbling. “I gave her a car and she's reached the mountains by now. Good luck with that.”

The knots weren't budging. Probably because he'd been trying to get free and had instead tightened them into immovable chunks. “There's a red truck out the back of the building. Keys in the ignition,” Peri said as she puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Good Lord, what did you do to these knots?”
Amateurs
.

Silas winced. “Ah, check the bathroom. One of them was using a knife to trim his nails.”

“Thanks for sharing.” Peri got up. The thing was eight inches long, and she decided to keep it despite the gauche camo pattern on the hilt. In three seconds, he was free; in four, she was sliding the knife away, almost shivering at the sound as it slipped into her boot sheath.

“Find her!” Allen shouted, and she joined Silas at the window to see Allen on the phone. So far, Taf's was the only gun showing, and Peri prayed it would stay that way. Clearly pissed, Allen ended his call. “Your
daughter
ran them off the road,” he said tightly. “Where is Peri headed? Detroit or Charlotte?” he asked Taf.

“She said something about Cuba,” Taf said with a simper.

Peri peeked down the stairs. Silas rubbed his legs, clearly pained. Too bad she didn't know how to fly, or they could back out of here and just go. The engine was still ticking-hot.

“Tell me, or I'll shoot your mother,” Allen threatened, and Peri's brow furrowed. She didn't want to have to draft to save anyone's life, but she knew she'd do it.

But Taf shifted the barrel of her weapon to Allen, as cool as if she'd done this a thousand times before. “Ya'll just do that,” she said in a thick accent, convincing Peri at least. “My momma is a bitch, but you make one move and I'll plug you myself. I'm from the South, sugar, and I kill my own snakes.”

Silas's breath was tickling her neck, and she stifled a quiver when he said, “Allen is playing us both.”

Do we have to do this right now?
“Tell me about it,” she said tersely. “I was on my way to Detroit when I realized they had you. Allen is a liar. I didn't turn you in.”

“Turn me in? Allen picked me up before I could meet you.” Silas's gaze went distant, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “You ditched me,” he said, and Peri grimaced. “You had no intention of meeting me at that dealership.”

“Can we maybe do this
after
we escape?” she whispered in frustration. “I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I left you, but I didn't know they
were going to pick you up, and when I found out they had, I came back. What do you think I was doing at the alliance?”

“Having drinks, by the looks of it,” he snarked, and she sighed in exasperation. Why was he stomping all over her high?

The sound of Taf's rifle echoed like a cannon. Adrenaline was a jolt, and Peri shoved Silas back from the door and into safety. Taf was shooting again?

“Peri! Let's go!” Taf shouted roughly, and Peri's breath fogged up the window. Allen was on the cement, his hand clamped about his foot, blood seeping around his fingers.

“You shot him!” Fran stared aghast at her daughter. “Are you crazy?”

“I shot his foot. He was going to kill me! Gawd, Mom. You think I should have just let him? And I'll be damned before I let you railroad another innocent woman.”

“Innocent?” Fran laughed, and the cold sound tripped down Peri's spine. “Don't be naive, my dear. Give me the gun, and for God's sake, drop the accent.”