Dabbing at his puncture wounds, Sam said, “So maybe I won’t kill Peanut. Maybe he’ll simply jump the back wall andaccidentlydrown in the Chicago R—”
The rest of his sentence was cut off by the sudden sound of Lady Gaga singing about lovers in the night.
When Cesar’s eyes jumped to the side, Sam made his way back to the conference table. He was careful to avoid the spilled coffee dripping from the table onto the floor when he asked, “What is that?”
“My phone.” Cesar’s eyebrows—which weren’t as thick and arching as they’d been when he’d been wearing the face of Cesarine—drew together over his nose. “But I don’t know who’d be calling. My partner thinks I’m performing tonight. And it wouldn’t be anyone from the club. When I called to tell them I wouldn’t be coming in, I said it was because I had a family emergency.” Cesar screwed up his lips. “Maybe it’s a wrong number? Spam or something?”
“Answer it,” Sam advised. When he realized he’d inadvertently used his military voice, he softened his tone. “It might be Hannah.”
“My god,” Cesar wheezed. “You think?”
Cesar didn’t wait for Sam to answer before diving into the sparkly purse he’d slung over the back of the chair.
It seemed to take the man forever and a day to locate his phone.And those two-inch fingernails aren’t helping matters,Sam thought impatiently. He was poised to step forward and take over the task when Cesar finally came up with his cell.
Pressing the device to his ear, he said, “Hello?” Followed immediately by, “Oh my god, what—”
That’s all he managed before snapping his mouth shut and nodding his head at the group, letting everyone know Sam had been right. ItwasHannah calling.
Sam wanted to yank the phone from Cesar’s ear and press it to his own. He only managed to keep his hands to himself by shoving them deep into the front pockets of his jeans.
Hannah’s voice was small and tinny-sounding through the phone’s speaker. He couldn’t make out her words, but the fear and desperation in her tone were as clear as bells.
“Yes.” Cesar’s eyes darted to Sam. “He’s here with me. Or, I should say, I’m here with him.”
Sam stepped forward to take the phone. But Cesar shook his head. “I don’t think he can pull the strings you thought he could, Hannah. It doesn’t sound like he’d able to just waltz in there and get you out without—” He stopped talking and listened.
A pit formed in Sam’s stomach as he watched Cesar’s eyes grow wide.
“No.” The man shook his head. “No, Hannah. That’s nuts! Don’t you dare—” He blinked and briefly looked down at his glowing screen before returning the phone to his ear. “Hannah? Hannah? Damnit! She hung up on me!”
“What did she say?” Sam’s military voice was back. He couldn’t help it.
Cesar’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “She said there might be more at play here than just Red Square and Dominion Pipeline. She said since you can’t get her out, she’s making a break for it because the clock is ticking and people could die if she doesn’t convince someone to listen to her.”
The pit in Sam’s stomach grew spikes and cut into his spleen. Surely,surelyshe wasn’t thinking of attempting to escape from the Federal Bureau of Investigations?
Then again, he hadn’t dubbed her Hurricane Hannah for nothing. Even at thirteen, she’d been a whirlwind. All feisty and rash and fiercely determined to do…well…whatever she had her mind set on at that moment.
Fuck!
“She said she needs you to be waiting for her at the back of the FBI field office in thirty minutes,” Cesar added, looking directly at Sam.
“Holy shit!” Eliza’s eyes were round. “She can’t be serious.”
“She’s serious.” Sam was already on the move, his boots thuddingagainst the metal floor as he bolted for the stairs.
“Wait!” Fisher called. “What’s the plan? Ya can’t go off half-cocked!”
“Hannah didn’t leave us much of a choice in that, did she?” Sam called over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time. “Ozzie?” he yelled above the thunder of his own footfalls. “Kill the CCTV cameras between here and the FBI field office if you can! If she somehow manages not to get herself shot making her escape, we don’t want the feds tracking her back here! Cesar, go home! Hannah doesn’t want you mixed up in what’s gonna happen next!”
“I’m comin’ with ya!” Fisher called, already following Sam down the stairs.
Sam stopped, his heart—usually metronome steady—was going wild inside the cage of his ribs. “No.” When Fisher opened his mouth to argue, he shook his head hard. “I need you here helping Eliza and Ozzie think of all the things I don’t have time to consider. Like what the hell we’re gonna do to hide an FBI fugitive.”
6
Eliza had already begun her ritual pacing and rubbing of the locket she wore around her neck when Ozzie grabbed a seat at his bank of computers, his fingers flying over the closest keyboard.
