Читать книгу The Equalisers: A Soldier's Oath - Debra Webb - Страница 14

He’d found them.

Willow’s heart sank a little more as she watched Khaled and his men force Spencer Anders into the waiting limousine. Someone from the airport or the hotel had to have tipped him off, had to have been monitoring Anders’s calls from the hotel.

The vehicle pulled away from the curb. Two black cars, windows heavily tinted, moved into place, one in front of the limo, the other behind it. Her ex-husband’s security detail.

She shivered.

Her next thought made her sinking heart shudder painfully.

Spencer Anders was as good as dead. “Where would you go?”

Willow sucked in an anxious breath and wrestled her attention from the caravan disappearing in the distance to the woman speaking to her.

“Where would you go?” the woman repeated.

Three sets of eyes watched her from above dark veils, anticipating her answer. Though she didn’t know their names, nor they hers, all in the car understood what had just happened.

What did she do now? She was unarmed. It wasn’t as if she could try to stop Khaled and his men.

Jim Colby.

She needed Jim Colby.

Willow looked directly at the driver, infusing her expression with all the hope she could summon. “If you would be kind enough to take me back to my hotel, I would appreciate it.” Willow gave the name of the hotel where she and Anders had spent the night. Her things were there and the telephone in the room would allow her to call the United States.

The woman behind the wheel, the one who appeared to be the leader of the group, nodded and turned her attention forward. The others watched in silence as their friend merged into the growing traffic.

Willow understood what they were all thinking. Her presence in this car could get them arrested… or worse.

The woman driving, the most outspoken of the group and the one who’d taken charge at that pivotal moment, had more than likely saved Willow’s life.

She blinked back the tears that burned in her eyes.

When she’d realized who the man pretending to be a real-estate agent actually was, she’d rushed to the front of the shop. She’d seen Khaled’s limo coming… she had known he was coming for her.

Since the shop owner had been preoccupied with a customer, Willow had gone for her only option: the rear entrance of the gallery.

The three women she’d noticed entering the shop a few minutes earlier had watched her flight. One of the women, the one driving now, had followed Willow outside and offered her assistance.

For the first five or so seconds Willow hadn’t been sure what she should do. She’d almost been afraid to trust these strangers. But desperation had driven her. Anders would die and the hope of ever seeing her son again was fading fast.

She’d had no choice.

Moving as quickly as they dared without drawing unnecessary attention, the women had led her down the back alley for a considerable distance. Then they had slipped between two buildings and moved back to the street well beyond where the limo and its entourage were parked. Surrounding her in a wall of black, the women ushered Willow to the car. They’d stayed out of view there until Khaled and his men had driven away.

Willow couldn’t be sure why these women had decided to help her, but she was immensely grateful.

Keeping low in the backseat, she couldn’t help turning to look from time to time to ensure they weren’t being followed.

“No one is following,” the driver said, evidently noting Willow’s furtive glances out the rear window.

Willow told herself to relax. She wouldn’t be able to think rationally if she didn’t calm down.

Slow, deep breaths.

Jim Colby would know what to do.

But could he do anything in time to save Anders?

Willow’s chest tightened.

Probably not.

This was her fault. Her desperation was already responsible for one missing investigator. She should have stopped when Davenport had warned her of his suspicions about his missing investigator.

But her heart just wouldn’t allow her to let go of the hope that she would get her baby back.

The name of the street they had just passed snapped Willow back to the present. Wait. This wasn’t right. The driver had missed the turn for the hotel.

A new rush of worry ascended upon her.

What if these women weren’t helping her… what if they were taking her to her ex-husband’s home? There were rewards for people who showed extraordinary respect for the rich and powerful.

Stop.

Don’t jump to conclusions right away. There could be a logical reason for choosing a different route than the one Willow knew. Right now she had every reason to believe these women were helping her. With that in mind she waited until they reached the next intersection to see if the driver was simply taking a different route.

Definitely not.

“We’ve passed the hotel,” she said aloud, trying hard not to sound accusatory or nervous.

“The authorities may be looking for you.” The driver glanced in the rearview mirror as she said this. “You should be properly prepared.”

The woman sitting next to Willow in the backseat touched her arm. “You look like an American.”

The realization that she wore a white blouse and khaki slacks bulldozed its way into Willow’s awareness.

The women were right.

She would be easy to spot dressed like this. The man posing as the real-estate agent and the clerk at the desk of the building they had visited had probably given descriptions of her attire. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Willow placed her hand on that of the woman next to her. “Thank you.” She met the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror then. “I don’t know why you’re taking this risk, but I’m sincerely grateful.”

“If we do not help each other, then who will help us?” the driver said bluntly.

Truer words had never been spoken.

Obviously things were changing in this intensely male-dominated society. Slowly, very slowly, but they were happening.

The home they visited briefly belonged to the driver. Willow learned that the three women had been best friends since childhood. They used every opportunity to encourage other women to stand up for themselves as well as others in order to facilitate change.

Food and drink were offered, but Willow couldn’t accept the hospitality since every minute she wasted might be Anders’s last. Not to mention that the longer she stayed in the company of these generous ladies, the more risk she brought to them.

Once at the hotel Willow said good-bye to the good Samaritans who had rescued her from certain death. With their help she was now clothed in full traditional dress, from black veil to long black abaya and no-nonsense black shoes. She’d pinned her shoulder-length blond hair back as tightly as possible to ensure no telling strands slipped loose.

Careful to scan the hotel lobby as she went, she moved toward the bank of elevators. Half a dozen arriving guests were crowded around the check-in desk. Two others had moved on to the elevators.

Despite being fully camouflaged, Willow found herself holding her breath as she waited for one of the elevator cars to arrive. She kept her gaze appropriately lowered so as not to make accidental contact with the other guests standing close by. There were so many rules for public conduct… failure to adhere to even one would attract attention.

The elevator doors slid open, offering entrance and sending a surge of relief gushing through her. She followed the other guests into the waiting elevator car and then selected the floor above the one where her room was located. Since she had no way of knowing what might be waiting for her at the room registered to Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Anders, she needed to take precautions.

The floor she’d selected was the first stop. She emerged from the elevator and moved down the corridor toward the stairwell exit, thankful that she didn’t run into any other guests.

At the exit to the stairs, she listened a moment in an attempt to hear anyone in the stairwell. Sounded quiet. She pushed through the door and listened again. Still quiet. Moving as noiselessly as she could, she hurried down the one flight.

Bracing for the worst, she cautiously eased the door open and peeked into the corridor. What she saw had her swiftly drawing back into the shelter of the stairwell. The urge to run quivered along her limbs.

Suppressing the flight impulse, she leaned against the wall next to the door. She had to think. Think! Forcing herself to recount the details, she analyzed what she’d seen. The door to their room stood open. Men in uniforms that she recognized as the local authorities were moving in and out of the room. She’d seen at least five in the fraction of a second that she’d dared to look.

What did she do now?

If she couldn’t get to their room she couldn’t call.

Sure she had her purse, but no working cell phone. She had a small amount of cash and a credit card, but she couldn’t use the credit card without having it traced right back to where she’d used it.

Going back to the airport with the return ticket in her purse wouldn’t help. The moment she presented her passport she would be taken into custody. Not that leaving was actually even an option.

The bottom line was she was unarmed… and unprepared for a situation like this.

She had to call Jim Colby.

Waiting for the authorities to finish their work and clear out was out of the question. Anders would be dead well before then… if he wasn’t already.

She had to do something.

If she’d asked to use the telephone in the home of the woman who had helped her escape the gallery the call might have led the authorities back to her and her friends. No way could she have done that. Acts of defiance were not tolerated, especially those carried out by women.

But she had to do something.

There had to be a way for her to do this.

If she didn’t figure out something fast it would be too late.

Willow closed her eyes and fought the defeat sucking at her. She wanted so badly to get her baby back. To escape the reach of her devil of an ex-husband.

Right now it felt exactly as if she had failed already. Failed her child and herself.

Maybe it was already too late and she’d been too blind to see it.

Davenport could have been right, and she’d refused to accept it.

What if she was looking for a miracle?

And what if she wasn’t going to find it?

Chicago

Friday, February 25, 8:15 a.m.

“CONNIE, have you heard anything from Anders?” Jim hesitated in front of his receptionist’s desk. “He was supposed to call with an update last night.”

Connie looked up over the rim of her coffee mug. “Technically, I don’t start to work until eight-thirty, but the answer to your question is no.”

She promptly returned her attention to the newspaper.

Jim wondered if she thought her prickly attitude would keep the world around her at a distance. The MO was classic. Don’t let anyone close and you won’t lose your focus and you damned sure won’t get hurt, betrayed or otherwise screwed.

There was a thing or two he could tell the lady about keeping the world at a distance, but that would have to wait. At the moment he had bigger problems to deal with, like where the hell his associate was and just how much trouble he might be in.