Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts) (21 page)

He said nothing.

“Jackson?”

“It’s written, China,” he said, finally looking at me. “I wrote it.”

My heart sank. “But . . . why? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was compelled to do the coding . . . by someone very powerful. I couldn’t say no.”

“Who compelled you?”

“The president.”

I stared, waiting for the punch line that never came. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“How?”

“The NSA pulled the plug on Vigilance but the president reinstated the program under a presidential directive, which is a bit like an executive order, but not made public. In the name of national security, he can authorize expenditures, order actions, and more. Tom was supposed to write it, but couldn’t. He came to me. Once he told me what they wanted, I refused because I saw what you saw. In the wrong hands, this software would be a powerful weapon. Even in the supposed ‘right’ hands, it’s a vast overreach of domestic spying.”

“What happened when you told him?” I asked.

“Tom hadn’t realized, but he agreed with me. He refused to provide them with the algorithm, so they killed him. That’s when I knew I had no choice but to write it.”

My thoughts were spinning. “But . . . they killed people. That’s . . . that’s incomprehensible. Our own government wouldn’t murder its own citizens.”

“They would if it means no one will find out about the software,” Jackson said, his tone one of dry bitterness. “That’s why Tom and Terry died. Tom was a warning and Terry had delivered his part. But they took pains to make both look like an accident. Someone else killed Freyda and John.”

“It’s Lana and those men,” I said. “Clark told me she’s an ISIS sleeper agent. I helped him hack her computer and he called and told me what they’d found. She stole the software from Wyndemere for ISIS.”

Jackson ground out a curse. “It’s exactly what I warned them about. In the wrong hands, it’s a powerful weapon.”

“We have to get out of here,” I said, feeling panic curling in my belly.

“I know.”

“They’re going to make you give them the algorithm, then they’ll kill us.”

“China! I know.”

His outburst shut me up. He was right. I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.

Frowning at me, he asked, “Didn’t they tie you up?”

“Yeah, but they used zip ties so, you know.” I shrugged, holding up my wrists. “Didn’t take long to get out of them.”

It looked like he was thinking about smiling for a moment. “You do realize that ninety percent of the population wouldn’t know the first thing about how to get out of a zip tie.”

I frowned, turning this over inside my head. “Really?”

“Really.”

Huh.

“Let me see if I can untie you,” I said, moving to get behind him, but he stopped me.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Don’t waste time on that. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” I protested. “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. We’re locked in here.”

His eyes slid closed and he winced, as though the desperate nature of our situation was just now hitting him. I crouched down next to him.

“Let me work on the ropes,” I said. “Please. It can’t hurt.”

His eyes shot open. “China, listen to me. You have to understand who these people are. You’re a woman, they’re extremists. To them, you’re less than nothing. The fact that you’re still alive isn’t a good thing, not if you don’t escape.”

His words were so intense, his dark eyes burning into mine, that my hands faltered at the ropes.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked.

“China, they will rape you,” he said. “Probably to death. Or at least until you’re begging to die. It’s what they do.”

My blood turned cold. I stared at him, not wanting to believe it.

“That’s why you’ve got to run,” he said. “When they come back—and they will—I’ll distract them to give you some time. But you have to run. And don’t look back.”

I still couldn’t speak. It seemed unreal, the horror of all this. How could I just leave Jackson behind?

As though he could read my mind, he said, “Promise me.”

My eyes filled and I slowly shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t just leave you—”

“You’d rather die at their hands? They’ll make me watch, you know. Watch as they make you bleed. Is that what you want?”

Tears spilled over. “No,” I whispered. “I don’t want that. But I don’t want you to die.”

“I’ll think of something,” he said. “But you’re the first priority. You’ve got to get away. Then you can send help.”

I knew he was placating me, that if I did get away, by the time I found someone to come help him, he’d probably be dead. But I nodded as though I believed him. “Okay.”

His body relaxed and his eyes closed again. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against mine. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, then pressed a kiss to my skin. His hands combed through my hair.

Wait a second. His hands . . .

My eyes flew open. The ropes were on the ground. “How did you do that?” I asked.

He smiled, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You’re not the only one with a few tricks up their sleeve.”

For a precious moment, we just touched and looked into each other’s eyes. I had so many things I wanted to say . . . but no words formed on my tongue. I was just glad—really glad—that we’d had this time together.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

I had to swallow before I could speak. “Like what?”

“Like we won’t see each other again.”

I didn’t reply. Things didn’t look good and I didn’t see any point in lying to each other. Or myself.

“Let’s get in position,” he said, getting to his feet. Giving me his hand, he helped me up as well. “You stay behind me, and when I distract them, you run.”

I nodded, though I felt on the edge of hysterical tears. He squeezed my hand as we took up a spot next to the door.

“Cheer up,” he said. “It’s Tuesday. Chinese food and DVR catch-up night. If Mia hasn’t deleted all your
Castle
episodes to make room for her
Grey’s Anatomy
recordings.”

Oh God, I was going to bawl, and not just because Mia probably
had
deleted all my
Castle
s.

The door opened and suddenly watching TV was the furthest thing from my mind.

Jackson launched himself at the man who’d opened the door, knocking him aside. There was another guy right behind him and he began pulling at Jackson. In seconds, it was a full-fledged brawl.

“Go!” Jackson yelled.

I backed out the door, flinching when one of the men hit Jackson. His grunt of pain was nearly my undoing. But I couldn’t let him do this for nothing. That thought more than anything sent me scurrying backward. Forcing myself to turn, I broke into a run.

I found out fast that I was in the basement of some kind of multistory building. By sheer luck I ran down the corridor and turned the corner right into a staircase. I didn’t look behind me as I sprinted up.

A door blocked my path but when I slammed into the crossbar, it opened, thank God, or that would’ve been a real short trip.

I was in a lobby of sorts, with a long expanse of open space between me and the exit. Crap. I’d seen enough movies to know what happens when you ran into open space.
Blam!
Shot in the back. But it wasn’t as though I had any choice either.

Every step felt like a mile and I was sure I had at least a dozen guns trained on the back of my head, but nothing happened. Any moment, I expected to feel the pain of a shot. The exit was just feet away and beyond was the inky darkness of outside. I could just see the faint remnants of twilight clinging to the horizon above the treetops.

“Stop!”

I faltered, my immediate reaction was to do exactly what I was commanded, but I kept going. My hand reached for the door . . .

A shot rang out, shattering the glass right in front of me. I screamed, instinctively covering my face with my arms as I shoved my way through the door.

More shots followed but hitting a moving target was hard, and in another few yards, I was out of range.

I kept running, trying to figure out where I was. The neighborhood didn’t look familiar and frankly, I was just glad it was a neighborhood and not out in the middle of the woods somewhere.

It was dark and I had no idea what time it was, but I saw golden arches at the end of the block and everyone knew a Big Mac Attack could be satisfied twenty-four hours a day.

I burst into the McDonald’s, not caring that everyone turned to look at me.

Sizing up the nearest customer—a teenage boy with a Panthers hat on—I gasped, “Phone. I need to borrow your phone.”

He was holding his cell and just stared at me. Maybe he was inebriated? His thought processes weren’t working very fast?

“I don’t have time for you to think,” I said, snatching the phone from him.

“Hey—!”

“Stop.” I held my hand up in front of his face. “Be quiet.” I hit the button on the phone and dialed.

“This is nine one one. What’s your emergency?”

“There’s a man being held captive,” I said. “In a building close to my location.”

“Where are you?”

I turned to the kid still staring at me, who looked like he was pouting now. “Where are we?” I asked him.

“Fuckin’ McDonald’s.” He rolled his eyes.

“The
street
,” I said. “I know we’re in McDonald’s. What street is it? And watch your language. Would you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

It was something I loved about the South. Mothers drilled manners into their kids and they did not let them forget it. The boy’s cheeks turned pink and I knew he was no exception.

“Rudolph and Fifteenth,” he said a bit sullenly. “Ma’am.”

“That’s better.” I repeated the address to the operator, along with directions from the restaurant to the actual building at the end of the block. “Please hurry. There are at least three people there that are armed. I believe they intend to harm him.” I hung up before she could ask my name and handed the phone back to the kid.

“Thanks.”

I stood by the windows to wait, checking the time every few minutes. It felt like forever by the time the cops drove by, lights flashing and sirens wailing. I hightailed it down the street after them, watching anxiously as they went inside, guns drawn once they saw the bullet-shattered windows.

Expecting them to pull out Lana, Jackson, and the gunmen, dismay filled me as they exited, twenty minutes later, empty-handed.

I hurried over to one of the cops. “Excuse me, but I heard gunshots earlier. What’s going on?”

“We had an emergency call, but no one’s inside,” he said. “They must’ve taken off before we got here.” He headed for one of the patrol cars.

I felt sick. I hadn’t gotten help in time. What would they do to Jackson to get him to give them the algorithm?

I didn’t know what to do, how else to help him. But then I realized . . . I knew somebody who might.

I rapped sharply on Clark’s door, wondering if he was asleep. It was nearing midnight and I prayed he was home.

It hadn’t been as hard to get home as it could’ve been. I’d gone back to that McDonald’s and used that same kid’s phone to call a cab. The driver had not been happy that I had to go inside my house to get money to pay him, but he hadn’t had a choice. Then I’d gone right next door.

I knocked again, not letting up until the door suddenly flew open. Clark stood there, holding a gun. He was wearing jeans . . . and that was all.

“Don’t you ever wear a shirt?” I blurted, shoving past him into his apartment. I was so tired, I felt like I could hardly keep on my feet.

One eyebrow rose as he followed me to where I collapsed on his couch. “By all means, come in. And I was in bed. You’re lucky I stopped to put on pants or you’d be getting even more of an eyeful.”

Clark slept naked
. I ignored the fact my unhelpful logic provided, instead focusing on what troubled me more than his lack of proper nighttime attire. “So Jackson and I get captured by ISIS agents . . . and you’re
sleeping
?”

“I warned you, or tried to. I had no idea what happened after that. Neither your nor Jackson’s phones were traceable. Until I heard something from you or saw either of you dead on the news, there was nothing
to
do. So I slept.” He shrugged and sat on the chair opposite me. “What would you have had me do?”

I didn’t know. What he’d done was . . . logical. But still . . . “I’m glad to know my being in mortal peril didn’t keep you from getting your beauty rest.”

His lips twisted. “In my line of work, you sleep when you can because you never know when you’ll get another chance. Like now. I’m guessing you’re not here just to provide me with a recap.”

I swallowed and shook my head. “I need your help. They still have Jackson.”

“Lana?”

“Yes. I escaped and went for help, but they were gone when we got back. I don’t know where they’ve taken him, but they’re going to torture him until he gives them the algorithm he wrote. Then . . . then I think they might kill him.”