Chapter Twelve
Rand stroked Sarah’s shoulder and stared at the ceiling.
They weren’t talking, and for the first time…that was fine. Because if he opened his mouth, he was going to poke the problem. That wasn’t solving things. He wanted something he couldn’t have, and instead of getting upset about it, he needed to accept that in this, Sarah was right.
They were what they were, and pinning a name to it wasn’t important.
His phone beeped in the silence. A single, solitary tone, but it was enough to stop him breathing for the span of a second.
“What was that?” Sarah muttered, half asleep.
He rolled out of the bed and snagged his boxers from the pile of clothes as he dug for the phone.
“Get dressed.” He didn’t have time to explain why, and he didn’t know the reasons yet, but that sound couldn’t be good.
To Sarah’s credit she, too, rolled out of bed and went straight to the bag of clothing, no more questions asked.
“Someone just tried to hack the laptop. Our cover’s likely blown.” He tossed the phone on the bed. “We need to be out of here in less than five.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have…” The rest of Sarah’s statement was lost in fabric.
They dressed in a rush. Rand kept one eye on the door, watching for shadows, the hint of movement, something that would tell him they’d been spotted.
“Dress to move. Put what you can carry in the black bag.” He’d prepared a bug-out bag just for this instance, though unlike Seoul, he had next to zero bolt holes and none of his contacts had hit him back yet.
They were flying blind.
In less than five minutes, they were both dressed and the essentials loaded. Rand secured his shoulder holsters and two pistols under his coat. They weren’t playing around anymore.
He took a clip holster out of the bag and held it out to Sarah.
“No, I don’t have a license to carry. I live in China most of the time. Owning a gun there is a red flag.” She glanced from the weapon to him.
“They wouldn’t put you in the field if you didn’t know how to use it. Take it.” He grabbed her by the waistband and jammed the holster on her hip. “Ready?”
She flipped her jacket over the weapon.
“I go first. We go to the stairwell, go down a floor, assess where we’re at.” If someone had attempted to break into the laptop and failed, they’d start asking around. It wouldn’t take long to make the assumption that Sarah was a good place to start pointing fingers.
Ultimately, his gamble of hiding in plain sight had failed, but they knew one crucial piece of the puzzle.
The briefcase was on American soil.
“We’re going to be okay, Sarah.”
She nodded.
He hefted the bag higher on his shoulder, placed one hand on the gun at his side, and pulled the door open. Using a firearm in a hotel was a bad idea. The walls weren’t all solid, people could get hurt, innocents could die. Which was why they had to run.
Rand peered left, then right. The hall was empty at this late hour. “Come on,” he whispered.
He set a fast, almost jogging pace to the stairwell. Again, he peered inside first, then ushered Sarah in. They went as quietly as they could, but the concrete and cinderblock stairwell echoed.
Somewhere below, a door clanged open.
“This way,” Rand whispered. He pushed the door to the next floor open and peered out.
Coast was clear.
He could always be paranoid, but then again, he was still breathing so maybe it paid to be suspicious. This was Seoul all over again. The noose around their throat tightened a bit more. They had to get out of the hotel now.
Five minutes to bug out had been too long. They should have gone for three.
There was another stairwell down the hall, past the elevators. If the Chinese were looking for them, they’d start a scatter search, placing people at various floors, sweeping and repeating until they’d covered the entire hotel.
“Come on, keep up.” Rand reached back and took Sarah’s hand. He peered into the elevator alcove as they passed.
One of the lifts dinged, the doors opening on a man with dark hair and a frown on his face.
“Go,” he whispered, shoving Sarah none too gently across the space.
They weren’t fast enough.
Rand grabbed a decorative vase off a table and turned. The man went down hard. Rand followed him to the floor, slapping his hand over the man’s mouth.
“Oh my God.” Sarah’s whisper-voice was still high pitched.
The man twisted and struck out, gasping for breath. The blow glanced off Rand’s arm. He moved with the man, hooking his arm around his throat and squeezing.
Sara’s shocked face stared back at him as the protests died. “Did you just…?” She was pale.
“He’s unconscious.” Rand patted the man’s pockets until he found his cell phone. “Here. Take the bag.”
He hooked his hands under the man’s armpits and dragged him back to the linen closet. A little force applied to the lock, and he dumped the would-be attacker on the floor.
“Come on.” Rand took Sarah’s hand and the bag. “He’ll be awake in a minute. Run.” Not only would the guy alert the rest of the Chinese, but the hotel would have the attack on video.
“This way.” He ducked into another stairwell, holding his breath and listening. There was someone below them, not too close. Rand held his finger up to his lips and met Sarah’s gaze. She nodded.
They tiptoed down two flights before he didn’t dare go farther. As carefully as he could, he opened the door to the sixth floor and peered out. He nudged Sarah out first before closing the door.
“Rand,” she whispered.
“Huh?” He ushered her toward the rear of the building. He’d swiped a hotel staff key card earlier. If they were really lucky, they could use it to get out through the service elevator.
“Look.” She twisted the stolen phone to face him.
The characters didn’t mean anything to him, but he guessed she understood most of it. “What’s it say?”
“They’re looking for us floor by floor. Four men, plus Wei, I think.”
“Okay.” They’d seen one, narrowly avoided a second.
That left three out there. He at least recognized the first one from the delegation, so they weren’t exactly dealing with field operatives. With the exception of Wei. Yet. Soon they’d call in the big guns or a private security force. Mercenaries. Great.
Rand didn’t know the man’s record, but the way both Hector and Sarah had reacted to him was enough to tell him—he didn’t want to run into Wei. Ever. Especially not with Sarah.
A smaller elevator dinged ahead.
He didn’t think. He shoved Sarah into the vending alcove, wedging her into the narrow space between the wall and a soda machine. It wasn’t big, but he somehow managed to fit both of them in the miniscule hidey-hole.
If it came to violence… If it was Wei… Rand wouldn’t hesitate.
Someone whistled, strolling down the hall. Rand hardly dared to breathe.
He could hear Sarah’s hitched breathing, the strain of it all wearing on her. She was doing so well, and yet this wasn’t what she’d been trained for.
The whistling got more distant. He edged out and peered right, then left. “Come on.”
Sarah jogged, keeping pace with him to the staircase on the other side of the hotel.
If they could get out of this place, if they could get on the street, their odds of surviving would be better. But the hotel was a death trap. A warren of dead ends and only a handful of exits.
“No, no, no.” Sarah pulled him back away from the door.
“What?”
She held up the phone and shook her head. He followed her lead, back down the hall and around a corner.
There. A map.
He peered at the “You Are Here” dot, the staircase and—there it was.
“This way.” He grabbed her hand and pushed them into a fast paced jog, the bug out bag bouncing against his hip.
Rand patted his pockets, searching for the right key card. Aha!
He swiped the key card on a door marked employees only. The door opened into a tiny break room, which in turn led into a sort of laundry service area. A man stood folding sheets at a table. He glanced up, brow furrowed.
Shit.
“Hey, hey, you aren’t supposed to be in here,” he said as though it were a practiced line.
“Sorry.” Rand ducked down the wide hall and into the service elevator entrance and swiped the card.
The doors rolled apart, the smell from the kitchens below wafting up to them.
“Hey, how’d you—”
The elevator doors slid shut.
Rand jabbed the button for the basement. The first floor would be watched far too carefully. They were better off looking for another exit. Something not so clearly marked.
“What are they saying?” Rand asked.
“They just found the guy in the closet. He’s…wait…he’s dead. His throat was cut. But…” Sarah stared up at him, confusion creasing her face.
“It wasn’t me.”
“I know, but…why?”
“Bad people do bad things. Come on.”
They reached the basement level. Rand once again put his hand on the gun, ready to pull it if it came to that. Wei had to be right behind them.
Killing one of their own would make the others more determined to catch them. It might also empower the police to do their job for them, depending on how Wei staged it. Rand would have a surveillance loop ready. He knew how he’d do it, what he’d leave behind. All the evidence would be back in their rooms.
Rand edged out, listening to the voices of the hotel staff at work. A red exit sign at the end of the hall was a beacon of hope.
“Quickly, quietly,” he whispered to Sarah.
She nodded.
They kept their heads up, hands clasped together, walking with purpose toward the door.
Covert work was different in each country, but most of the time if he walked around like he belonged somewhere, no one thought to second-guess him.
He pushed the door open slowly, peering out into the night. It was cool, with a light rain. The door let out onto a small landing at the foot of a stair. The key card entry was marked staff entrance.
Rand let go of Sarah’s hand and gestured for her to wait. He half-drew one of the weapons and peered out onto the street.
Wei was ready to kill. Which meant Rand had to be prepared as well.
Besides a few people that appeared to be hotel staff out for a smoke, the coast was clear. He waved Sarah after him.
They were just about free.
He kept his eyes peeled for a taxi, something that would get them away from here. The metro would work, but they could always be followed that way.
“What’s going on? What are they saying?” He peered over her shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“They know we have the phone.”
He took it from her, popped the back off and pried the battery out. He shoved the pieces into a garbage can as they passed.
A man stepped around the corner as they approached the intersection.
Sarah gasped.
Rand didn’t have time to draw his weapon. He grabbed the handle of his still holstered weapon tucked up against his side and walked straight into the man. Rand would fire through the holster if he had to. For now he pressed against the smaller man’s back.
“Don’t turn around. Don’t speak. Don’t even breathe,” he growled in his ear.
The man—Li was what Sarah had called him—trembled.
He was an office boy, a gopher. Sarah had spoken to him warmly, as if he might not be all that bad. And yet…he was part of the group who would eventually figure out that they needed Sarah alive. His gut said kill him, but the rest of him wasn’t so sure.
“Rand…please. Don’t,” Sarah whispered, as if she could hear his internal battle.
“You walk to the lobby. You tell your boss not to follow us. I see any of your friends, I’ll find your family. I won’t go after you. I’ll go after your mother. Your father. Your wife. Understand?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Now walk.”
The man practically bolted from Rand, never once glancing over his shoulder. He didn’t need to. He knew who he and Sarah were on sight. And he was likely their death sentence—if they stuck around.
“Go. Now. Go. Run.”
Rand planted his hand on Sarah’s back and propelled her across the street. Yes, she was tired, they were on empty, but their lives once more depended on this.
“Taxi!” Sarah waved her hand.
A yellow cab going the other direction eased across the street and up to the curb.
Thank God for small miracles.
Rand tossed the bag in and glanced over his shoulder. A few figures in dark clothes down the block were headed their way, but they were too far away.
This time, this one time, they were getting out okay.
Next time, they might not be so lucky.
…
Sarah wanted to collapse and cry, but they still needed a destination.
This she could help with. Finally, something she could do. She leaned forward, spouting off an address she knew well.
“Where are we going?” Rand muttered.
“I need your phone.” She practically pick-pocketed him digging it out. “Come on. Come on.”
She brought up a popular rental sight, one that allowed people to list their apartments, homes, or other properties as temporary rentals.
There.
She clicked the button and again, she could have wept with relief.
Hallelujah, it’s vacant.
“One of the Wishing Well executives, she inherited her grandmother’s place here in D.C. She has a carriage house that she rents out when she’s not letting us stay there.”
“That’s not safe, Sarah. They know you work for Wishing Well.”
“Do you have a better plan?” She thrust the phone back at him.
His grimace said no.
“We have a destination. Somewhere to go. We can figure things out when we get there.” She thrust the phone back at him. So much for contributing to the cause.
“Look, it’s not a terrible idea, but we can’t stay there. Let’s assume they made you. They know you work for Wishing Well and by now, they’re focusing on finding you. You’re the face they know, even if they don’t know why you’re involved.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out of the window. The familiar surroundings only contributed to the surreal experience. The gun at her hip was a stark reminder of that.
This was her home, at least part of the time. It seemed wrong that all of this was happening here. Her family was an hour away, not nearly as removed from the nightmare as she’d want them. Heck, Matt and Emily were probably barely a half hour’s drive from the rental.
Rand was right. Going to her coworker’s place meant putting them all in danger.
“Hey. Hey. Look at me. Please?” He tugged on her hand.
She turned her head, meeting his gaze.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said.
What about the dead man in the closet? Why had that happened? What purpose did it serve?
“We need some sleep. We’ll think better after a little rest.” He pulled her close to his side.
Screw it.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. Everything was so screwed up. Because of her. She hadn’t done her job right. And this was what happened.
They rode the rest of the drive in relative silence. Their driver seemed to pick up on the somber mood and didn’t speak. The nighttime traffic wasn’t bad, so they made the trip fairly fast.
It was creeping into the early morning hours before they finally stopped at the curb of an old, whitewashed house. The shutters had been freshly painted since Sarah’s last visit, and the remodeling of the flower beds seemed to be going well.
She trudged down the driveway and keyed in the code that let them past the fence.
By the time the side gate swung open, Rand was by her side again. She led them by memory through the backyard to the carriage house out back. The key was still stashed where she remembered. Essentially, nothing had changed except the welcome mat and a couple more prints hanging on the walls.
“I’m going to check the perimeter. You good in here?” Rand checked the chamber of his weapon.
“Rand, everything’s fine. No one could know we’re here already.”
“Exactly why I want to familiarize myself with the perimeter now.”
She sighed and trudged back through the house, doing a walkthrough of the first then the second floor. The master bedroom was upstairs, but her gut said to stay on the main floor, where they’d have a quick escape out the window if it came to that.
While Rand traipsed around in the darkness, she hauled their bag into the bedroom.
A man had died tonight. Because of her. That was two souls on her conscience now.
They had to get the briefcase back. There was no question in her mind that it was a priority. She couldn’t have any more blood on her hands.
Sarah placed the firearm in the nightstand drawer and considered what to do next. She wanted to strip down, crawl in bed and go to sleep. But what made sense? Her mind was so fuzzy, it was hard to think.
She spent a few moments washing her arm in the hall bath, applying a bit of ointment to the skin around her stitches. Rand was right when he said it would be an ugly patch-up. Her scars would be worse, but at least she was alive and the damage superficial.
How was she going to explain that to her family next time she saw them? The old scars had begun to age and fade. The new one was going to be obvious to them.
Sweaters. She needed a large collection of cardigans and long-sleeved shirts so she could just avoid that topic for a while longer.
The side door creaked open. Sarah held her breath.
“It’s me,” Rand said, his voice soft.
She exhaled and met him in the living room.
“High fences. Neighbor’s got a couple dogs. Good spot.” He shrugged out of his coat. “We’ll be safe tonight. Come here.”
She walked into his arms, needing that touch, his support.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Bitsy. I promise.” He kissed the top of her head.
How could it be okay when people were dying? She didn’t see it.
“Come on, let’s get some rest.”
She led him into the bedroom and toed off her shoes. As much as she wanted to get undressed and feel the sheets and Rand’s warm body, she couldn’t. They had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Sarah lay down on top of the comforter, pulling an extra blanket up over her, and stared at the ceiling. She listened to Rand lay his coat on the bench at the foot of the bed, stash his guns, dig in the bag.
This was what she’d signed up for. It wasn’t just the carrying stuff place to place, it was this, too. They’d told her she’d never get into trouble, that stuff like this just didn’t happen… Well, she was ready to call bullshit. If this stuff never happened, why had they insisted she go through training? How had they landed themselves in this mess?
Rand flipped off the lights and lay down next to her, fully dressed save for his shoes. He draped his arm over her waist and kissed the back of her neck.
His presence made her feel safe, but that sensation hadn’t stopped the death so far. It wouldn’t next time, either.