Chapter Ten
Sam
Wheels exits the Turnpike in Teaneck, traverses the town, then drives west on Route Four. As we travel north on old Route Seventeen, the overhead sun shines on the railroad tracks parallel to the road. After a green sign welcomes us to Suffern, New York, we traverse a row of restaurants, drive some more, and stop at an old farmhouse.
“Welcome home.” Our Patten chauffeur stops the ambulance and speaks softly into his com unit.
“You sure this is safe?” The remote location doesn’t convince me I won’t be dead by day’s end.
Suds squints. “There’s cameras in the trees and trip wires in the grass. No one’s going to hurt you, sugar.”
“Don’t worry ma’am. We’ve got your six.” Our driver clicks a fob, a carriage house door lifts, and we go inside.
More used to being the guard-erthan the guard-ed, my husband jumps out of the car and scans the perimeter. “How many men did Slate give us?”
Wheels joins him at the opening. “We got three outside and one in. In total, we make five.”
“Six.” I double dare the two macho men to argue with me.
“Sorry, ma’am.” They share a look which, if I didn’t know better, probably means they have no intention of including me.
While I ponder how to prove my worth, my tough guy grabs a communicator and twists it into his ear. “Sticks, you there pal? …Good copy. Over.”
Maybe if I had a cool name, they’d take me seriously, too. Energy spent and crabby as hell, my stomach growls as we walk through the enclosed breezeway.
In the main house, a blond Aryan greets us with a firm grasp and clear blue eyes. He points to a pile of bacon and buttered toast. “You hungry?”
“I am. Thank you.” Surrounded by testosterone, I settle into a kitchen chair and help myself. “So, does anyone know who’s after me?”
Wheels, the driver hottie, shakes his head back and forth. “Slate has his best men on it.”
That’s it. I am done being the damsel in distress.“Impossible. I’m the best. Find me a computer.”
“Sorry, ma’am. Against protocol. It’s too easy to locate you once you’re online.” Sticks glances at the other two in the room who don’t dare meet my gaze.
Whoa.“No way. Wait… not unless… Don’t tell me. You think they have access to Jason.”
The light-haired man nods, Wheels frowns, and Suds takes my hand. All the pieces fall in place. No wonder my husband dragged me out of Brooklyn. The NYPD and the FBI have access to the artificial intelligence unit. It probably already knows where we are.
My heart hammers. “The law wants me dead?”
Nodding, Stick’s turquoise eyes penetrate mine, no doubt wondering if I’ll faint or perhaps cry. The other two know better.
My fists clench. “What the actual fuck? All I did was follow a dumb cheater into an apartment building, snap a few pictures, and now I’ve got a price on my head? I don’t get it. What did I stumble upon?”
My partner mutters, “Knowing you, probably the answer to what’s really stored in Area Fifty-One or who killed Kennedy.”
“Not funny.” Laser beams of attitude slice through the air and when they land on Suds’ face, he lifts his palms.
“Wasn’t tryin’ to be.”
Wheels butts into our squabble. “You two might want to focus. How about you clue us in.”
“Fine.” I glare one more time at my husband. No matter what he thinks, none of this is my doing.
Perhaps the other Patten men will be unbiased. “On last Monday night, around ten, I got a message from Mrs. Gabrielli. She said her cheating spouse was on the move. Suds was working so I followed him by myself. The missus installed a GPS app on her husband’s phone so he was easy to track. First, he stopped in a bar for a drink. Then, he made a call, walked to Twelve Columbus Place, and texted in the lobby. He just stood there for ten or fifteen minutes before starting up the stairs.
“What did you do while you waited?” Suds knows sitting around is not my strong suit but I didn’t do anything wrong and plead my case.
