Chapter 22
Jack swung his head around the corner of the print shop, where Saskia was to meet Clive. He’d heard Clive talking but couldn’t make out what he was saying. As he turned and shifted his shoulder to stand halfway unprotected by the building, he saw Clive’s hand pull out of his pocket. The object gripped in his hand was a gun.
Jack aimed down the alleyway, arm high and outstretched. He looked through the pistol sight. Saskia took a bullet to the gut. He didn’t flinch. She was wearing the Kevlar vest. It would hurt like a bitch and leave bruising, but she’d survive.
It was when he saw Clive’s hand move upward that Jack swore inwardly. Clive’s motions seemed to move so slowly that Jack could make out every minute fraction until the gun connected with Saskia’s temple. Clive’s finger had slid off the trigger and just as Jack watched that movement, he squeezed the trigger of his gun.
He watched Clive’s gun go flying. Clive flinched and yelped, drawing to his chest a bleeding hand. Saskia wavered and stumbled backward.
It had been a risky move, but it paid off.
Swinging into the alleyway, Jack raced toward the twosome, unconcerned for whatever backup the ECU might have on the scene. All he saw was Clive and Saskia. He wasn’t about to let her stand alone before that crazed bastard any longer. He collided with Clive and snatched him by the collar. The man groaned, gripping his bleeding hand.
“No apologies this time,” Jack said.
He connected his fist up under Clive’s jaw, a knockout punch—or it should have been. The man tumbled backward, his weight pulling Jack forward. He released the bastard to fall. Plunging to the ground beside the moaning man, Jack pummeled Clive in the ribs, gut, and collarbone with punches. He didn’t feel the pain of impact. He was merely returning to him the suffering he’d given Saskia.
“Stand down, Angelo!” a male voice said from above and behind him.
Jack didn’t listen. Saskia’s shoes appeared near Clive’s head and she begged him to stop. And it was only her voice that managed to connect with that broken part of him that didn’t know how to solve anything but with fists and fury.
Pulling his punch, Jack froze over Clive’s body. The man lay unconscious and bleeding. Chill air swept Jack’s face. His heart squeezed because he sensed Saskia standing over him. Witnessing him losing his shite. Behind him, he sensed others stood.
“Cuff him,” a female voice ordered. Not Saskia.
Two London police officers knelt and Jack stepped back as they cuffed Clive.
“Both of them,” the woman ordered. “Angelo too.”
A pair of hands gripped one of Jack’s wrists and tugged his arm to twist his hand around behind his back. It wasn’t a surprise. He’d suspected it could go down like this. The ECU had known he was with Saskia and wouldn’t miss the chance to also take him in hand.
Jack looked to Saskia. She clutched her gut but her expression was wild.
“No,” she said to the woman Jack had yet to see. “He helped us bring in Hendrix. You can’t take him in!”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” the woman said.
And as the plastic ties zipped about Jack’s wrists, he turned to face the female with the deep and powerful voice. He knew her. She’d been the woman who had come to him after he’d been taken out of his jail cell. Tall, blond, and sexy as hell, but with an iron bar for a spine. Lucinda Marks, the Commander of the Elite Crimes Unit. The buck stopped with her; her word was all powerful.
“This shouldn’t surprise you, Angelo,” she said to him.
He lifted his chin. All he could think was that he’d failed Jonny. Twisting his hands within the tight zip ties, he wished they’d cuffed his wrists before him instead of behind him. At least then, he might have escaped. Now? He had to figure a way out of this.
As the officers roused Clive and lifted him to a stand, Jack was tugged away and down the alley. Behind him, Saskia argued with Lucinda Marks, the woman who could change a man’s life for the better or the very worst.
Shite. He had to break free. Jonny needed him. But would he risk a sniper bullet to the skull again if he did so?
* * * *
Saskia swore at Lucinda Marks. She’d met her once and had never liked her, despite knowing she was the one who’d organized the ECU because she believed criminals deserved a second chance. Where was Jack’s second chance?
When it was obvious that no one was going to cuff her, Saskia stepped back from Marks. Her gut ached and she wanted to bend over and cry, but there was no time for feeling sorry for herself. It had to be nearing eleven, probably past that time. Jack’s brother had less than an hour.
“We’ll need you to come in for a debriefing,” Marks said as she brushed a sweep of blond hair from her perfectly made-up face. The beige wool coat that swept to her ankles must have cost a pretty penny. “You want a ride to headquarters with me?”
Saskia shifted back her shoulders, standing strong. Best not to run off and draw the sniper’s bullet after her. He’d made himself known by leaning out the window and waving to Marks. “I’ll get there on my own.”
“You don’t know where it is,” Marks said. “Come on, ride with me.”
“There’s something I’ve got to do first.”
Lucinda’s gaze cut through Saskia’s bravery. Ice Queen must be the oath most often whispered behind her back.
“You can do whatever you want with me in an hour. Just give me one hour,” Saskia stated emphatically. “I’ll explain everything then.” She turned and rushed down the alleyway where the police cars were pulling away.
A glance over her shoulder saw Marks shake her head toward the sniper. He’d been called down. Whew! She was giving her the hour?
Hard to know.
“What’s going on?” Chester asked.
Touching the plastic device in her ear, Saskia almost pulled it out to toss aside, but a moment of wisdom stilled her. “Got a date with a man who needs my help,” she said. “You can verify to the Commander that I’m not going AWOL. I swear it to you.”
“This is irregular, Petrovik. The Commander wants you back at headquarters.”
“Soon as I can make it. Promise!”
A glance down the street spied the rental Jack had parked. Saskia dashed up the sidewalk, and once inside the unlocked car she confirmed that the attaché was still half-hidden under the passenger seat.
Leaning under the steering wheel and peeling off the plastic shell that protected the wiring, she prepared to hotwire the vehicle, but she needed a screwdriver or something to jam into the ignition. She opened the glove compartment and found inside a travel-sized tool kit. Perfect.
Forty seconds later the car purred to a start. If she turned off the ignition she might never get it started again, so she had to make this work. Jack had mentioned an old dock just out of the city. She had no clue where that was.
As she pulled away from the curb, keeping one eye out for police cruisers. Thankful for the car’s online GPS system, Saskia asked for directions to East Tilbury.
* * * *
Jack allowed the officers to escort him into the back of the police cruiser. Hands behind him, he slid to the opposite side of the back seat and sat directly behind the driver. He caught sight of Saskia running toward the parked rental as they pulled away from the curb. He didn’t turn his head to watch her. Didn’t want anyone to pick up on his curiosity and go after her.
He knew what she was going to do. It gave him a moment of relief. Of gratitude.
And then he fisted his hands until the zip ties dug mercilessly into his wrists. But one thing to be thankful for was that his shoes laced up. He’d be out of these zips in no time. He began to thread a lace through the plastic strip.
As for Saskia’s goal? The people holding Jonny would never make the exchange to a woman. And she had no clue where the actual dock was. He’d only mentioned a dock a ways down from Coalhouse Fort. That could be any number of places.
As the cruiser stopped at a red light, Jack met gazes with the driver in the rearview mirror. If the ECU wanted to punish him, they would have to take him in hand. Or they could let him go through the system and end up back in prison.
Either way, it was now or never to tilt the odds in his favor.