Chapter Ten
Josie finished packing, zipped the luggage and hefted it off the bed. She hadn't packed that much in the way of clothing. Two pairs of jeans, t-shirts, and underwear. Most of the space in her carry-on bag was taken up by the crucial items. Handguns, extra clips, ammunition, charging cords for phones and tablets and portable charging banks.
Along with a couple of thousand dollars in cash. The last thing they could do was use debit or credit cards. It was way too easy to be tracked that way.
Thoughts of tracking had her hurrying from the room. She needed to make sure Dillon left his cell phone at home. Hers was secure, thanks to the Senator and friends still in the Secret Service. His was not. They couldn't take a chance on his. He could have been hacked and having the phone with him would be equivalent to a homing beacon.
She hurried to Dillon's room. His suitcase was on the bed, still open and half filled. He sat on the foot of the bed, talking on the phone. Damn, she should have warned him about phone calls.
"Yeah, thanks, buddy." He looked at her as he spoke. "You bet. I'll be talking to you soon."
"Who was that?"
He looked up at her. "Assistant coach. We were going over what I wanted him to do this week. I told him I'd be in touch later in the week to let him know if I'd be there next Monday."
She felt her heart sink. "Can I hold your phone?"
"Sure." He handed it to her.
Josie turned, went into the laundry room where she'd noticed a small tool kit stored in the closet. She opened the toolkit, took out the hammer and then crouched down, put the phone on the floor and beat it to pieces with the hammer.
"What the fuck?" Dillon ran in. "Why the hell'd you do that?"
She jumped up, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him close to whisper as softly as she could into his ear. "Because your phone – like this house-- might have been hacked or bugged and we're trying to get you away from all threats, which means no one can know where you are. Nor should anyone have advance knowledge that you're leaving."
"Shit. I fucked up, didn't I?" His whisper conveyed a measure of remorse she found oddly comforting.
"I hope not. Come on, get the rest of your stuff packed and let's hit the road."
"Where are we going?"
"Away from here."
He pulled back, turned on a heel and headed for his room. She followed, and within minutes he was closing his luggage. Just as he started to zip it, she heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Not one but three.
Josie ran to the front of the house and pulled back the curtain from the window overlooking the street. Oh damn. Fear spiked hard and hot inside her. The watcher across the street, the neighbor Dillon knew as Carl, lay just outside his garage. She knew the dark pool beneath him was not oil.
"Dillon! We have to go now."
He ran out into the hall, hauling his suitcase. "What's wrong?"
"We have to go." She raced to grab the handle of her luggage. "Now, Dillon. Now."
"Okay, okay." He headed for the kitchen, and she followed. Just as he reached for the handle of the back door, it burst in.
Josie went for her gun a split second too late. Something black came down over her head and hands grabbed her arms. She fought and kicked until something covered her mouth through the fabric covering her head.
She continued to fight, hearing Dillon swearing and the sounds of his struggle, but consciousness was fading quickly. Hoping that whoever the invaders were, they would take her as well as Dillon, she succumbed to the enveloping darkness.
*****
Dillon woke, disoriented and nauseous. When he couldn't see, he tried to reach up and uncover his eyes, only to discover that he couldn't move his arms. His legs were immobilized as well. That's when panic set in. "Hey!" He yelled. "Hey!"
"Don't." Josie's voice came from his right.
"Are you okay?"
"I am, and we need to stay calm, okay?"
Calm was as far from what he felt as it could get, but he didn't want her to know that his heart was racing like he'd just run ten minutes of wind sprints and he felt like he was going to puke. "Okay. Where are we and what happened?"
"My guess, we're in a vehicle being transported, and we were jumped before we left your house. When I went to the front to look out, I saw Carl lying on his driveway. I'm pretty sure he was shot."
"Why would someone shoot Carl?"
"Because he was on your protection detail."
"He was shot because of me?" That made Dillon feel even worse.
"No, he was shot because he was doing his job. Don't get caught up in that, in anything, you hear me? We have to keep our wits about us if we're going to survive this. Remember that, QB. Our lives may well depend on it."
"Do you really think they would kill us?"
Her lack of response was frightening, and he was glad she couldn't see him because he'd be ashamed for her to know he was afraid.
"We need to talk about this while we can," her voice was barely above a whisper. "And I'm going to be completely honest with you. As hard as it may be, I need you to remain calm, okay?"
"I'll do my best."
"All right. Yes, I think they may kill us, but if so, this is the way it'll go down. I imagine the first thing they'll do is tie you to a chair, point a light at your face and instruct you to read what they give you. It will be a message to your uncle and will probably say something along the lines that if he doesn't stand down, retract or give up on whatever he's doing, you're going to suffer and die.
"You'll be instructed to tell him he has a set amount of time in which to go on national media and make a statement, and if he doesn't, they'll get violent. Chances are, they'll kill me. Maybe it will be fast and maybe not, but they'll use me as a warm up to see if he will bend. If he doesn't, then they'll start on you. At first, it will be painful but not life-threatening.
"You'll be videoed again, and it will be clear that you've been worked over. If your uncle still doesn't surrender, they'll do worse, and it will be bad. Very bad and they won't stop until he gives in or you're dead."
Dillon had never imagined the kind of fear and horror he now felt. He wanted to kick and scream, something, anything to escape the nightmare Josie described. "I don't know if I can take it." He hated to admit it but needed to say it.
"I know. I feel the same, and I swear to you, I'll do anything and everything I can to keep you alive and whole. If they brought our luggage, then they have my phone, and it's equipped with a hidden tracking device that can't be detected. When we're discovered missing, which shouldn't be long, we'll be located, and a team will be sent. If they disposed of my phone, then our only hope is the locator in my luggage. Its signal is weaker, but with luck can transmit a location."
"And if not?"
"Then we're on our own and we have to be ready to fight if given a chance. And Dillon?"
"Yeah?"
"If I tell you to run, do it. As fast and far as you can without looking back. You hear me?"
"I do, but—"
"But nothing. Promise me."
"I can't—
"Please, I need—"
She suddenly stopped, and that's when he realized that the vehicle was slowing. Wherever they were being taken, they may have arrived. Dillon sucked in air, feeling suddenly short of breath.
"Don't panic," Josie's whisper did little to bolster his courage. He didn't want to die and didn't have a clue how to go about escaping whatever his captors had planned.