Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Just before I turn down the short corridor to the restrooms, I glance back to find Jack hunching forward and burying his face in the palms of his hands. You’d swear the man just found out frowning was illegal.
Ugh. He was nervous, but he was finally talking, and I tanked it.
I blow air from my lips as I make my way into the restroom and go over to the sink, cringing at the reflection that greets me.
I don’t even have a coat or a sweater to cover up the wet spot on my boob.
I wet a paper towel and try dabbing at it, but when it only makes the stain worse, I shrug my shoulders, deciding I don’t really care all that much what anyone thinks.
I’m more worried about missing my meal and being told I’m not worth the risk of a relationship with the first man who’s ever made me want a serious relationship.
The stain on this dress is a tiny speck on the scale of things I’m worried about.
I set my hands down over the cool marble countertop around the sink, leaning forward and preparing to give the woman in the mirror a good ol’ talking to, but the restroom door swings open.
“Bonnie?” I smile, turning with pride to face the woman who didn’t think I’d make it across the canyon.
But rather than being met with a sheepish or even friendly look, there’s an alarming glint in the narrowing of her eyes.
She plasters an “Out Of Order” sign on the door before stepping inside and shutting it behind her.
“Willow Sinclair.” She clicks her tongue, keeping her hands behind her back while her mouth twists in a regretful arch that doesn’t make me feel hopeful about what’s about to transpire.
The foreboding click of the door lock engaging behind her echoes throughout the room.
Bonnie reaches into the crossbody bag strung over her torso, pulling out a small pistol that shrinks the room as she nonchalantly rests it against her leg.
“I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” She takes measured steps forward, shaking her head like I’ve inconvenienced her. That obnoxiously large diamond twinkles in the fluorescent light as she lifts the hand holding the gun.
My eyes narrow, fragments of the mystery finally piecing together. “It was you. You killed Brandon.”
She huffs out a throaty laugh, adding an eye roll. “That stupid boy couldn’t stick to the plan. Listen, I don’t really have time to hash out the details here. I need you to shimmy out that window.” She gestures with the gun. “I’ll be right behind you. I’m watching you.”
“You’ve been waiting a while to say that, haven’t you?”
“What?” She exhales in annoyance.
“I’m watching you. It just sounds like a line you’ve kept in your pocket for a while.” I shrug, trying to gauge whether or not I can distract her long enough to get closer to the door. “I would have gone with the classic no funny business, or even don’t even think about trying anything stupid.”
She glares at me, like I’m the one who’s lost the plot. But what she doesn’t realize is I’m just using my strengths, i.e., talking crap to get myself out of trouble.
Bonnie pins me with a look of disgust as she reaches forward to yank my purse from my hand.
Dang it. So much for my plan to call Jack when the opportunity arose.
So I cross my arms and pretend I’m unfazed by the unhinged and armed woman glowering at me from a few feet away.
My heart pounds in my throat, and all I want to do is run to Jack and tell him that we’ve finally found the missing link.
But a crazy lady is using a gun as a marshalling wand, and she’s already proven she’s lacking in the empathy department.
“You can cut the crap, Willow. It’s not gonna work on me,” she says, walking to the thankfully low window. “Climb.”
“Where are we going?” I ask innocently.
“To Disneyland,” she deadpans before rolling her eyes, and I purse my lips because that’s my move. “Does it matter? You have a gun pointed at you.”
“We could have been friends, you know, but you’ve ruined it now,” I grumble, pushing the wrought iron window open. This thing can’t be up to code. I’ll need a tetanus shot if I survive.
“I’m really heartbroken over that,” she says from right behind me, gripping my wrist before I can even consider making a run for it down the empty alley.
She loops her arm through mine, using the other hand to keep her pistol jabbed into my side as she ushers me toward the lodge.
I stifle the sob that wants to escape when she bumps my stitches, sending a blinding pain to the tip of my fingers. I refuse to let her see any weakness.
The walk to the lodge goes quicker than I would have liked.
I try to signal to the front desk concierge with my wide eyes that I’m a hostage and have a gun pointed at me.
I’ve never loathed having a resting happy face until now, but my naturally sunny disposition has betrayed me, because all the concierge does is scrunch her face in a smile as if Bonnie and I are just two cute besties out shopping for friendship bracelets.
Bonnie leads me to my room, opening my purse to pull out the keycard for the door. There’s a growing panic in her movements, telling me maybe her plan isn’t as thought out as she’d hoped. Things have clearly gone off the rails, and she’s had to make too many adjustments.
I’m shoved into my room before she locks the deadbolt, then she turns her eyes to me for a second before her gaze bounces all over the room.
“Where is it?” she demands.
“Where is what?” I frown. I sure hope she doesn’t think I have that stupid Clovis spearhead thing, because otherwise she’s about to be very sorely disappointed.
“The bag!”
“Marigold?”
Her face falls flat, a look of pity festering in her eyes. “You named the bag?” She lets out a raw, smoke-hardened chuckle, the haggard sweep of her hair and the bags under her eyes confirming her unraveled plans.
And as any hostage movie will teach you, the more panicked the abductor, the more volatile their actions, increasing the risk of injury or death. But I won’t be taken out now, not after everything else I’ve endured over the past four days.
There’s also the fact that if anything happens to me, Jack will blame himself and never let anyone close to him ever again. And while he may not be ready to hand his heart over to me, I have hope that someday in the future, he’ll feel brave enough to let someone in.
So even though I’m legitimately freaking out inside and have a healthy concern for my own safety and aliveness, if, God forbid, anything happens to me, any hope of Jack having a happy life will be crushed.
I have to warn him.
Soon.
There’s a deranged shiftiness in Bonnie’s eyes. She’s not going to want to drag this out, especially once she finds out I don’t have what she’s looking for.
“I’ll get the bag for you, but just listen to me for one minute, okay,” I breathe, pushing the hair out of my face. “Jack will send out a search party if I’m not at that table in two minutes. Let me text him.”
A laugh breaks free from her throat.
“Hear me out, okay. I’ll tell him I’m running to my room to grab a sweater to cover this.
” I gesture to my stained dress. “Then, after a while, I’ll text again, saying I have to call my parents.
That’ll buy you some time, because otherwise that man will come storming in here in the next five minutes.
I’ll do what you ask, just don’t hurt me, please. ”
“What’s in it for you? Why wouldn’t you want Jack to burst in and save the day?” She lifts her chin, arms folded, while she leans on the back of the single chair in the room, the pistol held firmly in her hand.
My shoulders lift with a heavy sigh. My usual MO won’t work on her. I’ll have to tell her the truth if I have any hope of getting her to take the bait. “Because it’ll crush him if I get hurt. He’ll blame himself.”
Another laugh spews out of her with a curse. “Freaking Hallmark stuff right there. What’s to say I won’t do something to get rid of you once I get what I want, anyway?”
“There’s a chance you’ll do that. But I’m hoping there’s a part of you that didn’t plan to kill Brandon, and you just got desperate, that some pretty sucky circumstances led you to this place.
I don’t think you got here because of greed.
There’s a desperation behind your actions…
” I trail off when her eyes flare like I’ve hit the nail on the head.
“Whatever. Just…send the text. But do it so I can see, then give the phone back to me.”
I nod as she empties the contents of my purse onto the bed, pushing the phone into my hands. The floral comforter creases as I sit on the bed with Bonnie’s gun pressed into my neck, her eyes hard and accusing. A tremble shakes my hand, delaying the process of unlocking the phone.
“Today would be great,” she snips as I finally manage to navigate to the messaging app.
Willow:
Stain wouldn’t come out. Grabbing my gray sweater from my room to cover it. Be back soon.
The message goes through, and the phone is out of my hands within seconds as Bonnie snatches it up and shoves it into her back pocket.
“The backpack.” Her gun does the pointing once again, motioning around the room.
“Okay…but you know I don’t have that overpriced spearhead thing anymore, right? Jack gave it to his colleagues yesterday.”
“I’m aware.” She smirks.
I stand, reaching into the closet beside the bed.
Oh, Marigold.
I pick up the dusty yellow backpack, and Bonnie’s greedy hands are yanking it from my grasp before I’ve fully turned around.