It’s a mistake, I see immediately, in Shane’s sour expression. He’s been looking forward to lording over me how badly he’s outsmarted me. I shift tactics quickly. “But how? How did you know where we were?”
I don’t care in the slightest, really, but I know Shane won’t be able to help himself from boasting, and that might buy me enough time to think, to plan, to find some way to save us…
“Dude.” The grin is back on Shane’s face. “Those guys who were following you from Chicago? I sent those guys. I figured you’d recognize me tailing you, but it took you a long time to even noticetheywere there.” His eyes drift beyond me, to Helen standing at my back. “Guess you must have been distracted.”
I tense at his attention being drawn to Helen, and feel my stomach tighten as she responds back: “Were you the one who sent the picture of me from the boat?”
Hervoice sounds totally calm, easy, and I would almost chalk it up to her naivety, Helen not realizing she’s in danger once again, except for how tightly her hand is gripping the back of my shirt.
Shane perks up at the attention. “While I was getting us ‘drinks,’” he confirms, using his free hand to make air quotes over the last word. “Lucky for me, I get to keep a copy as a memento. It’s too bad you changed before leading me here to Dean’s room, if you don’t mind me saying so, Helen of Troy. I miss that outfit already.”
I hate this. I hate that he’s talking to her. I hate that he’sflirtingwith her, while he’s pointing a gun at us and insinuating he’s going to kill us. I hate that he got to see her in that dress and that he has a pervy picture of her on his phone. I hate that Helen isn’t back in the library in one of her big turtlenecks, absent-mindedly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she pretends to be working but is really writing one of her naughty books.
Think, Thaddeus. Think.
When she speaks again, Helen still doesn’t sound remotely fazed. Maybe she’s seen her share of public disturbances at the library, or maybe that’s just her nature—warm and good and steady as a rock. “How’d you get a key to the room?”
“Stole it from the housekeeper’s cart,” Shane returns proudly. “Did it the first thing after I checked in. Figured it might come in handy.” He motions toward me with the gun. “Bet you’re regretting joining up withhimnow, huh? He might be the famous bounty hunter, but I’ve always had the real skills.”
I don’t know if it’s his cockiness, or how idiotic he sounds, bragging about stealing a key off a hotel cart like it’s proof that he’s James fucking Bond, but at last I find my voice. “So what’s the plan, Shane? You’re gonna shoot all of us?”
Shane looks distinctly irritated to be talking to me now instead of Helen—or maybe it’s because I’m calling him out, pointing to the fact that he really doesn’t have much of a game plan. “Maybe. If I have to.”
I run my eyes over the room, openly skeptical. “I don’t know about that, Shane. The construction here is pretty good, but hardly soundproof. I’m pretty sure the neighbors will hear gunshots and call the police. What’s your exit strategy?”
Shane stalls, clearly thrown. “There’s a car downstairs, with a driver on standby. I can make a quick getaway.”
Noted. I continue to look unimpressed. “It’ll still be hard to get to it, once security locks down the elevator and stairwells.”
“Then I won’t shoot anyone, if I don’t have to.” Shane actually sounds disappointed about this. “As long as you all cooperate.”
I assess him silently, running through the scenarios in my mind. If Shane gets us all tied up, what’s to stop him from killing us some other way? If he’s gagged us, we won’t be able to make much noise, not enough to be heard through these thick, insulated walls. The real question is, is he capable of it?
A few days ago I would have said absolutely not—he’s just a gung-ho, frat-boy idiot. But that was before I saw him visibly pouting at the idea of not being able to shoot us. I mistook his idiocy for incompetence, but idiocy paired with cruelty is a dangerous combination.
Taking a gun out of the equation changes the stakes, though. That requires you to get up close, fight against someone who’s fighting back, look into someone’s eyes as you take their life. I don’tthinkShane has it in him…but I can’t be sure. Especially if he’s determined to prove he’s a tough guy.
No. No. I still don’t think he’s capable. He’s a little boy playing gangster, but his priority will be getting Molly out and making a clean escape. He has no reason to kill the rest of us if he thinks he’s getting what he wants.
“We’ll cooperate,” I assure him. “In fact, I’ll help you.”
“What?” Dean snaps, loudly enough that I glance his way without quite looking at him. Instead, I look at Molly, who stares back at me with those big, watchful eyes. Our gaze holds, just a moment, but hopefully long enough to convey one thing:Trust me.
When I look back at Shane, he looks dubious. I raise my hands to him. “Look, it seems to me you weren’t really after Dean at all. You were using him to find Molly so you could take her home—and you found her. I’m sure her dad and her husband will be very grateful. And they’ll be even more grateful when they know I’ve remanded Dean to the authorities. Add breaking bail, crossing state lines, and kidnapping to his record and I’m guessing we’re looking at a nice, long sentence.”
“Thad,” Helen says from behind me, but I ignore her, stepping out of her grasp.
Shane raises the gun at me as I move, but I keep my hands up, my gaze locked on his. “Look, you can’t hold the gunandtie us up at the same time. Let me help you, and you help me. After you leave with Molly, I’ll take in Dean. We both win.”
For a long moment, Shane studies me. Then he grins. It’s not a nice grin. I know instantly I’ve miscalculated, played something wrong.
“I like your plan,” Shane says, “except I want Helen to help me tie up everyone. Then she’s coming with me.”
Chapter 43
Helen
All hell breaks loose.
