Chapter Thirty-One
Thirty-One
I have no idea where we are or even how long we’ve been driving when the car finally comes to a stop and the motor is turned off. Brian helps me out of the car, but the sunglasses are not removed as we walk across what I assume is a parking lot, through an exterior door of some kind, then up a flight of stairs. I stumble on the stairs several times, and if it weren’t for Brian’s grip on my elbow, I would have fallen down the stairs by now. Or at least into the Huge Scary Guy who’s so close behind us, I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. I hear the crinkle of paper and assume that Brian’s holding the rolled-up canvas in his free hand.
When we reach what seems to be a landing, Brian lets go of my elbow and knocks once on a door. Footsteps approach on what must be a wood floor. The door creaks open, Huge Scary Guy (whom I will forever think of as Lurch) pushes Brian and me inside then steps in behind us, which means I’ll have to get past or through him to get Grand out.
Someone steps up in front of me and removes my sunglasses. As they pat me down, mercifully neglecting to order me to remove my boots or check inside them, I blink rapidly to adjust to the light so that I can assess the threat just like Cassie would.
The sight of my grandmother slumped, head down, in the chair she’s tied to sends adrenaline coursing through me. I begin to calculate how best to incapacitate, or kill, Lurch, the armed men standing on either side of her, and presumably, Brian, so that I can get Grand out of here. Clearly the odds are not in my favor, but when Grand raises her head, sits up straighter, and pins her gaze on me, I see that her anger and frustration outweigh her fear.
I also see the huge bruise on her cheek. And a murderous rage takes hold of me.
“So this is the way you treat an eighty-three-year-old woman?” I shout. “What on earth is wrong with you people?”
The men on either side of her stand fast. The guard to her right says, “She’s tied to the chair because she broke Tom’s nose.” He nods toward the guard on the other side of Grand, who’s wearing what looks like a makeshift splint.
I glance at Grand and see a smile tug at her split lip. Then I see one eyebrow go up. She nods in my direction and mouths the word “Now.”
I bend down, yank the pistol out of my boot, and aim it at Guard One while trying to block Lurch’s view. “Untie her! Now!”
While they’re doing as instructed, I whirl around and shoot Lurch in the kneecap, giving Grand time to scurry out of the way. Then Cassie Everheart’s instincts take over—or at least the ones I used when I played her—and I whirl back and drop Guard One with a bullet to the hand that’s holding his gun. I’m just about to drop Guard Two when I realize he also has a gun in his hand. Before I can react, he manages to get off a shot that comes so close, I feel it fly past my ear before I take him down with a shot to his upper thigh. Okay, that’s not where I was aiming, but it was apparently close enough to his “manhood” to discourage him from firing back.
Having taken every other threat out of commission, I turn and walk toward Brian, leading with the Glock.
His hands go up. One of them holds the rolled-up canvas I’d hoped to use to get Grand and me out of here. “I’m not armed. In fact, I’m here to help. I’ve done my best to throw them off the scent, including sending them to search your grandmother’s house in Atlanta to get them out of town while I tried to figure out how to protect you both.”
The door creaks open and swings inward, pushing Lurch out of the way. A tall, lean man somewhere in his early sixties steps over Lurch and walks toward Brian. He’s holding a gun. I’m still trying to figure out who he is and why he’s here when he snatches the decoy canvas from Brian’s hand. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought.”
“Marc!” Brian says, the tremor in his voice unmistakable.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come to see things done right?” the man named Marc says. “Drop your guns. Now! Or my first shot will end the life of the bitch who started all this.”
Brian does as instructed.
With a sinking heart, I follow suit.
But Grand is not cowed. “You mean the bitch whose work your father claimed, and your family has lived off your entire life?” she snaps back, her voice steady, her gaze locked on the man who is apparently Phillip Drake’s son.
“Yes, you!” Marc hisses. “The one who ruined my mother’s life. The bitch he never forgot.”
Grand shakes her head. “You look so much like your father but you’re nothing at all like him.”
Drake’s son snorts. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m my mother’s son. She was the one who loved and raised me while my father was out screwing any willing piece of ass. She’s hated you most of all because, cheater that he was, my father never got over you. He actually wanted to acknowledge you as the painter and rightful owner of The Madonna . Fortunately, he died before he could make that happen.”
Grand gasps. “Tell me you did not kill your father over that painting.”
“Nope, didn’t need to.” He shrugs. “The cancer took care of that.”
His lack of remorse, as well as his willingness to harm Grand to get what he wanted, sends a shiver up my spine. For a second, I’m frozen in place. Then anger ignites deep inside me.
“Enough talking, let’s end this.” Marc snatches the decoy canvas out of Brian’s hands then backhands Brian hard enough to send him crashing to the floor, where he lands face down. When Brian doesn’t get up, Marc turns his attention to the decoy canvas. Any chance of getting out of here before he discovers that what he’s holding is not actually The Madonna evaporates.
This is the only opportunity I may get. There are guns lying everywhere, but I have no confidence that I can reach down, grab a gun, and shoot Marc before he can kill both Grand and me.
So I do what Cassie would have done. I take two quick steps so that I’m within striking distance. Then I pull up one knee, bend, rotate my hips, and send the gun flying out of Marc’s hand with a roundhouse kick. The gun skitters across the floor toward Grand, who swoops it up with an agility that takes everyone by surprise.
Cassie and I, yes, we are still one in this moment, use their astonishment to close in farther and land a kick to his chin that snaps his head back and knocks him off his feet.
Marc doesn’t get up. I’m contemplating the idea of “ending this” permanently for Marc when the door crashes open and three men race into the room, guns drawn. One of them is Luke. The other is a Treasure Island policeman, the third is wearing a vest that identifies him as FBI. Additional law enforcement officers from St. Pete Beach, Treasure Island, and the FBI stream in behind them. A siren sounds in the distance and grows louder as an ambulance approaches.
· · ·
“What the hell just happened here?” Luke demands before I can even ask him how he and the other law enforcement officers got here.
“These men kidnapped me on that man’s orders.” Grand points an unshaking finger at Marc Drake, whose eyes are just now opening. “He’s Phillip Drake’s son and he’s been behind all the break-ins and threats.”
“But Brian is the one who made sure Marc’s instructions were carried out,” I add. “He played a big role in all of this.”
A Treasure Island cop scans the room and the wounded men strewn around it. “Who took all these men down?”
“My granddaughter took out most of them.” Grand nods toward me, her voice filled with pride. “Marc knocked Brian down,” she says as Brian struggles to his feet despite the blood dripping down his forehead.
When the EMTs arrive, one immediately checks on Grand while the others focus on the bad guys. Luke and his partner, Rod, handcuff Brian then handcuff the wounded to their stretchers. Once the FBI agents have gathered up the confiscated firearms, taken statements, and departed, I walk over to Luke and slip the Glock I borrowed from him into his jacket pocket as unobtrusively as I can. The last thing I want is for him to get in trouble for what I’ve done.
Although she’s clearly shaken, Grand refuses to go to the hospital.
I turn to one of the EMTs for help in convincing her.
He shrugs apologetically. “It’s hard to believe, but she made it through whatever went down here without a single broken bone. And she doesn’t seem confused or in need of anything more than rest.”
“You’re sure?” I ask him.
He nods. “But we can take her in to be checked out.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to do that, Grand?” I knew I’d feel better. “You know, just to be sure?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I want to go home.” Her eyes tear up a little, but I happen to know she can do this on cue. “I promise I’ll rest.”
“But—” Rod begins.
“No point wasting time trying to convince her,” Luke tells his partner. The women in this family don’t give in easily.
“You go ahead to the hospital. One of the Treasure Island guys is standing by to run Lillian, Sydney, and me back to Lillian’s once I’ve taken their formal statements. Then I’ll stay to hold back the media, who are no doubt already on their way to Casas de Flores, until we can get someone out there.”
When everyone else but Grand and I have departed, Luke turns to me. “You took the gun I loaned you to use at the gun range and used it to shoot three men. Then you knocked out their ringleader.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think you should tell me the truth about why you wanted to borrow the Glock so that I could help?”
“I would have loved to, Luke. Truly. But they told me that if I spoke to you or anyone else in law enforcement, they’d kill Grand.”
“But they could have just taken The Madonna and killed you when you came to make the exchange.”
“Theoretically, yes. Only I didn’t have The Madonna with me because I couldn’t find it, so I brought a rolled-up canvas of the right size and hoped that I could get us both out alive.”
“Good God.” Luke inhales a huge breath of air and takes his time exhaling it. I don’t think it helped. If he were a bomb, he would have already detonated.
The ambulance sirens fade into the distance. Jaw set and face stony, Luke says, “I warned you about Brian, Sydney.”
Only he, Grand, and I are left in the now-silent room, and he looks like he could explode at any moment. “I know you did,” I reply in the most conciliatory tone I can manage. “And you were right. But how did you know where to find us?”
“I attached a microscopic tracker to the bottom of the barrel of the gun I loaned you.” He takes the gun from me and removes a flat, tiny black sphere.
“Wow, and people call me a control freak,” I say.
“I’m a cop. Protecting people is my job. It doesn’t make me a control freak. It makes me well prepared.” He flashes me a smile.
When Luke and I walk outside with our arms around Grand (she refused to be seen in a wheelchair), a fleet of news vans are waiting. Cameras track our every move while reporters beg for statements, and on-camera talent and their producers try to convince us to stop for interviews.
With Luke as our escort, we walk as quickly as Grand can move. When we make it through the gauntlet to the Treasure Island squad car, Luke gently places Grand in the back seat and fastens the seat belt around her. I slide in beside her. When Luke slams the car door shut and climbs into the front passenger seat, I realize that Grand and I look as if we’ve just been arrested.
When we reach Grand’s town house, Luke jumps out, helps Grand out of the back seat, and escorts us to her front door. “I’ve arranged for a few of my friends to stand guard at Grand’s until things quiet down. They’ll hold the media back and keep an eye on things in general. I’ll be over to check on you as soon as I can get away. But call or text me immediately if anything feels the least bit off.”
We both nod obediently. Then we each give Luke a hug and our thanks. When I’m finally able to let go, I follow Grand inside and send a silent thank-you to Cassie Everheart for all the things she taught me.