Get You Back: Part Three: Redemption Page 8

  I dashed after her, but she was so quick. "No. Come on, don't go, Lauren," I cried desperately. "We can figure this out. There has to be a way."

  "We can't." She was already halfway up the stairs by now, slipping away from me, just the way she had so many times before.

  I chased after her in full-blown panic.

  An electric shock hit me hard, making my body arch. Ten yards.

  "Please, Lauren," I croaked through the haze of pain. "I don't care about the fucking trust. Don't let it ruin our lives."

  "Don't come after me, Rye!" She called back to me in warning. "You're going to hurt yourself."

  "Then come back," I gasped. "Come back down here and we'll talk about it."

  "No. Stop right there. If you come any closer, I'll scream and the guards will come, and maybe your uncle. You know what he'll do if he catches me."

  "Lauren …" I reached the base of the stairs. Twelve yards. The pain ratcheted higher, jolt by cruel jolt. I stumbled onto the bottom step. I cursed my lack of tolerance for the pain. My resistance was low because I'd gone up the stairs earlier. I'd never tested the boundary twice in one night before.

  Lauren paused near the top of the steps and looked back. "Rye, one more thing you should know." Anguish rippled through her voice. "I tracked down Elijah and Annabelle in Houston. They're at the Loon Lake B&B. I'll tell them where you are and they'll do whatever they can. And there are more people, too. My friend Courtney's trying to help. You're not alone here."

  She bounded the last few steps to the top. My vision blurred, double, triple, countless images of her slim form dancing in a disorienting kaleidoscope. "Where … you?"

  "I love you, Rye. I'm leaving because it's the best thing. Don't try to find me. There's no point."

  A slice of gray appeared in the doorway far above me. So far above me. I reached for it. Crawling, clawing. Fifteen yards.

  She slipped out the door. The sliver of light disappeared and everything went black.

  7

  Lauren

  I needed to be far, far away from Rye. As far as I could be. Even farther than Thailand. Another planet might be a good choice, if possible. But I might as well have had an electronic bracelet fastened to my ankle. I got as far as the border with New Hampshire, found a grubby little Motel Six, and locked myself in.

  I figured I was ninety percent safe from any potential pursuers. I'd changed rental cars several times just in case, but I didn't expect anyone to come after me. No one saw me leave the B&B. I never even said goodbye to Elijah and Annabelle.

  I knew exactly where they’d been staked out, waiting in the car next to mine for me to finish my search of Christopher McAllister's study. The plan was for them to wait there until I finished, or until I texted them for help. I left my car right there and hitchhiked back to the village. At the B&B, I grabbed my gear and scribbled a note.

  Rye is being kept in the basement at the estate. He knows you're here and will need your help right away. I left the bathroom window unlocked. Good luck to all of you. With love, Lauren.

  Cryptic, but that was all I felt comfortable saying in a note. When I was far enough away from Loon Lake, I texted Elijah.

  Complications. Come on back to the B&B.

  Then I took the battery out of my phone to render it both dead and untraceable.

  I felt bad misleading them, but I needed the head start. I knew Elijah would try to talk me into staying around, and Annabelle might sit on me or something. They wouldn't understand why I had to leave, why I couldn't stick around to help Rye.

  But I wouldn't be helping. I had to keep reminding myself of that as I indulged in the longest, hottest shower of my life. I'd be a huge distraction. And if Bliss showed up, with all the ten million tricks she had at her disposal, I had no idea what would happen. I simply couldn't expose Rye to that risk.

  But God, did it hurt. The agony in his voice as he’d crawled up those stairs, that damn bracelet zapping him with electric torture, I'd never forget that. I had to know he was safe.

  That's why I couldn't make myself leave the state of Vermont. It made no sense, and I knew it made no sense. Maybe the next day I'd be able to leave. Maybe the next day I'd make it to New Hampshire. Maybe I'd read in the paper that Izzy Van Sant and Rye McAllister had announced their marriage. Or maybe I'd read that Rye McAllister had called off the engagement. That Christopher McAllister was being investigated for fraud, kidnapping, extortion, and being an unredeemable asshole.

  Hey, a girl could dream.

  I lay awake most of the night retracing everything that had happened since Rye had appeared in my life. Washington, DC. Thailand. Vermont. Bliss. Christopher. Money. Secrets. Lies.

  Love.

  Rye.

  Rye. Most of all, Rye.

  It was wrong, what Bliss and Christopher were doing. But fighting back, stopping it—that was up to us.

  By morning time, I had a plan. I found an Internet cafe and looked up Whispering Pines, where Bliss had said my mother lived. It must have been destined, because it turned out to be located in northern New Hampshire, only a few hours’ drive.

  I made it there by lunchtime.

  I'd known Bliss under a hundred different names, but she kept her given name secret. I only knew it because once I'd happened to catch a brief glimpse of her birth certificate. Her surname—and mine? I didn’t know—was Clark. I had to fudge the fact that I didn't know my mother's first name. But a kind receptionist allowed me in once I told my story.

  Also—it turned out we had the same eyes.

  I catalogued similarities with avid greed as I sat next to my mother in her wheelchair. We looked so much alike. The same mouth. The same narrow shoulders. But so different, too. Her eyes barely focused on me. She was achingly thin under the faded bathrobe she wore.

  "I'm Lauren," I said softly. "Do you remember me?"

  Her eyes flitted briefly across my face. Recognition? A tiny bit?

  No. I had to be honest with myself. She didn't know me. I didn't know how much I should say, what might distress her. I contented myself with, "It's nice to see you."

  We sat in silence for a moment. If only I could ask her questions. I had so many. I wanted to know all about her, about how she'd grown up, how she'd met my father, who my father was. Why I'd ended up with Bliss.

  But I couldn't ask any of those things of this painfully fragile woman. I took her hand and asked her only one thing. "Are you okay here?"

  She nodded, her fingers tightening on mine.

  An orderly came into the room at that point. He was a middle-aged black man with the kindest face I'd ever seen. "That's probably enough for Ms. Chloe. She's not used to visitors."

  I nodded, preparing to go. "You've known her long?"

  "Coming up on ten years I've been working here."

  "Have you met her sister?"

  A sudden jerky movement drew our attention to my mother. Her eyes bugged wide and she flinched backwards.

  The orderly soothed her with a hand on her shoulder. From the look on his face, I figured I had an ally.

  "Listen. I'm Chloe’s daughter, but I just found her. I'm planning to file for legal guardianship as soon as possible. But in the meantime, I'm afraid my aunt might try to move her. Would you be willing to let me know if that happens? Or if you hear anything about any plans involving my mother? Just a head's up, that's all I need." I handed him a card with my email address and number written on it.

  "You bet I will. I watch out for this lady. Somebody has to. None of us like that sister of hers. Don't you worry about a thing. I'll make sure you know everything that goes on, good and bad."

  "Thank you. Thank you."

  I rose to my feet, hesitated, then bent down to kiss my mother on the cheek. "I'll visit again soon," I whispered to her. "Promise."

  I thought her eyes brightened just a tiny bit.

  As I left, my resolve hardened. Step one of my plan was complete. Remove one of Bliss's weapons against me, to the best of my abil
ity. Now it was time for step two.

  Contact Bliss. Turn the tables on her, for once.

  8

  Rye

  For the second time in a night, I was awakened from the deep black unconsciousness of pain. This time it was Annabelle who shook me awake and helped me back to my cot.

  "What … doing …?" The night came back to me in flashes. "Lauren?"

  "We can't find her. Elijah's trying, but honestly, we're more worried about you."

  "Where … Elijah?" My ears were ringing with a distant sound, like a siren.

  "Elijah's in the car, waiting to see if you're in one piece." She shot off a quick text. "I got the fun part of this job because he can't fit through the bathroom window." She winked at me, that bright smile, wide as Texas, firmly in place. But I noticed how she looked, how she kept scanning me up and down. She wore a black tunic adorned with a skull over purple leggings, her hair partly tucked under a black knit beanie.

  "Is that the closest you could come to a spy outfit?"

  "Yessiree. You like?" She comically preened and posed. Trust Annabelle to find a way to lighten things up in a basement dungeon.

  "No. Go home and change. Come back in something more presentable."

  "Wow, you're so bossy when you're barely conscious."

  I forced a smile at her teasing. "I'd laugh, but I don't think I have it in me right now."

  Her carefree grin dropped away. "We'll find her, Rye. We'll get her back."

  "It's not just that. The shit that's going on here, Annabelle, it's crazy. I don't see a single fucking way out."

  "It's all right, Rye. We'll figure it out. We're McAllisters! Back in ancient times, we held off the McClays for ten weeks when they tried to take our castle."

  "Yes, but they eventually did."

  "Yeah, and that's when we married a Norman heiress and ended up better off than we were before. When the whole landed class system started falling apart, we came to America and got filthy rich. Don't look at me like that. I paid attention to Papa's history lessons."

  I pulled my jaw up off the floor. "I'm impressed."

  "You should be. We're McAllisters. We're impressively good at surviving."

  "Which would explain why I'm being held prisoner in a basement while you're climbing through a bathroom window and Elijah's—"

  "Flirting with a hacker." She smirked at my raised eyebrows. "Point being, we're surviving, the way the McAllisters always have. By sticking together and flirting our asses off."

  Now that finally got a laugh out of me. "I need to bring you guys up to speed."

  "Yes please." She jumped to her feet and held out her hand. "Want to climb out the bathroom window with me?"

  I shook my head, masking the pain that still lingered with every movement. Clearly, she didn't know why I couldn't leave, and I wasn't ready to tell her. "Can't."

  "Speakerphone it is, then." She pulled out her cell and punched in his number.

  "Rye." Elijah's voice rumbled over the phone. The sound of it was more effective than a shot of whiskey. Right away I felt stronger. I had my brother nearby, and we always, always, had each other's backs.

  "Elijah. Good to hear your voice. Sorry we couldn't knock down a wall and get you in here."

  "Glad to hear you still have a crap sense of humor."

  Annabelle rolled her eyes. "Rye's about to tell us everything he knows," she told Elijah. "So stop with the insults. Go ahead, Rye."

  It took a little while to run through everything. I started with the will that I'd just read for the first time that night. The fact that it gave equal status to whomever I married. I explained Uncle Chris's desire for the merger, and the fake engagement to Izzy that now threatened to become an actual marriage. I explained, to the best of my ability, why Lauren had run away.

  As I told my story, Annabelle kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the cot next to me. Her posture made me think of the way she used to perch on the breakfast bar, and I wondered if we'd ever make it back to our Houston loft.

  No matter what happened with the will and with Izzy, things were going to change. There would be no going back.

  "I'm still not getting this," Elijah said when I was finished. "You left out the stick. The punishment for not doing what Uncle Chris wants. What kind of threat is he holding over you?"

  "I can't say. I won't say."

  My sister stared at me wide-eyed, while an intense silence emanated from the phone.

  "Exactly how the fuck are we supposed to help you then?" Elijah finally asked.

  "I don't know. But I need to do what Uncle Chris wants. The consequences if I don't aren't something I can live with."

  Elijah started to erupt again, but Annabelle stopped him. "No fighting. I'll mute you if I have to, Elijah. Let's agree that Rye has to appear to go along with Uncle Chris's bullshit plan. We'll just have to get creative, that's all."

  She twisted one of her curls around her index finger, which was her classic concentration pose. We always knew never to interrupt her during hair-twisting homework sessions. "Rye, how hard is it for you to leave here?"

  "I can only leave with Uncle Chris or when he arranges it."

  "But why? We have a car parked in a pasture not too far. You can make it out that window, you're not nearly as ginormous as Elijah. We just have to know Uncle Chris's schedule and routine so we get you back before anyone knows you're gone."

  "Honey, it's not that simple."

  "But I was thinking that if we could get you to that blog writer, we could plant some other—"

  "I can't." Unable to think of any other way to explain it, I lifted the hem of my sleep pants and showed her my electronic manacle.

  I had to clap my hand over her mouth to stifle her shriek of outrage. "Keep it down," I hissed.

  She was so furious, so wild, I could barely keep her on the cot. "I'll kill that lowlife! How dare he? He's a monster."

  "What? What's going on?" Elijah's bewildered voice floated from the phone.

  I explained it in the most matter-of-fact tone I could. Annabelle was still bright red with rage.

  "Fucker," Elijah said when I was done. "He'll pay. He'll pay."

  I nodded, overcome with a sense of relief that I had my brother and sister at my side again. "The gist of it is, I can't leave here except when he arranges it. And I rarely have any advance notice. I have no cell phone, no way to get word to you."

  "Well, he'll definitely let you out to see Izzy, right?" Annabelle asked. "And we can easily follow her around."

  "Yeah, that works. That way you'll get to see me walk into a half-assed marriage."

  "That's it!" Annabelle jumped up suddenly. "I've got it. Rye has to do what Uncle Chris says. But Izzy doesn't! What if she sneaks away and marries someone else?"

  "Like who?" Then it came to me. "Freddie Marks. She keeps mentioning some kind of secret lover she's crazy about. Maybe it's him. I caught them together. They like the same kind of games. He's wealthy enough to satisfy the Van Sants."

  I passed a hand across my eyes, so weary by now that I could hardly keep my eyes open. "Someone has to talk to Izzy. Freddie, too. Before all this goes down tomorrow."

  "Done." Annabelle sprang up and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Don't worry, Rye. You sleep tight tonight. We got this."

  9

  Lauren

  For my meeting with Bliss, I called on every moment of the "training" she'd given me. I had to beat her at her own game. I had to be just like her; no, better than her. I had to do it without setting off a single alarm bell. And I had to do it with a million churning butterflies at war in my stomach.

  I met her at a rest stop back in Vermont. It felt appropriate, somehow. When I was growing up, rest stops had been convenient places where we tweaked our appearances on the way from one job to another, from one identity to the next. I felt oddly at home in rest stops. They were like commas in a sentence, a pause for breath.

  Bliss drove up in a brand-new Mercedes SL. She stepped out and clicked
the lock, then came toward me in an outfit straight out of Jackie O's wardrobe. Big black sunglasses, a scarlet scarf wrapped around her head, a white swing jacket. Bliss knew how to dress, I’d give her that.

  "Thank you for coming," I told her.

  "Of course. It's you and me against the world, darling."

  The familiar phrase, one of her favorites, made my throat tighten. "So you always used to say. I hope it's still true."

  I heard her quick, hidden intake of breath. I'd given her no clue about why I wanted to see her. I didn't want her to prepare ahead of time. She didn't know if I was friend or foe at this particular moment. And that was an advantage I intended to keep.

  She lifted her eyeglasses to the top of her head. Her sharp green eyes scanned my face. I maintained the nervous, excited expression I'd practiced in the mirror back at the motel. "I'm intrigued," she finally said. "Why don't you tell me why you called?"

  "Something incredible has happened. Something amazing."

  Her eyebrows lifted. "Really?"

  "Rye proposed to me. He wants to marry me." I shook my head as if I could barely believe it. "He said he loves me and that McAllisters always fall hard and so he wants to get married. His uncle wants him to marry someone else but he wants me. Me!"

  A smile played across her lips, but I noticed she didn't look surprised. Of course not—she'd been hoping for this. Planning for it. "Congratulations, darling. I hope you're planning a big society wedding worthy of a McAllister."

  "See, that's the thing." I took her arm and tugged her away from the sidewalk toward the little wooded area populated with picnic tables. I lowered my voice. "I can't say yes if I might get arrested at any moment. It was scary enough coming back to the States. Nerve-wracking, really. But I had to in order to find Rye. I can't possibly go into a marriage with something like that hanging over us. It wouldn't be fair to him."