Page 36 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

Mick

I stare at the tiny memory card in my hand, the weight of it heavy for what it might contain. Evidence. Leverage. Maybe a way to keep her out of jail?

Carefully, I wrap it in the plastic she gave me and slide it into the slot behind my DOD ID. Not the most secure place, but it’ll do for now.

Samantha watches every movement like she expects me to change my mind. Like trust is a door she’s bracing to have slammed in her face.

“You need a better spot for that,”

she mutters, worrying her bottom lip.

“Wallets get lifted all the time.”

I glance up, something twisting in my gut.

“This is what you were talking about before? You were telling the truth.”

She shrugs, her voice low as she meets my gaze.

“Guess you weren’t ready to believe that was even possible.”

She’s right. I wasn’t. Not then.

I smile anyway, climb out of the car, and fall into step beside her as we head toward an antsy Jake.

“Luke’s meeting us at a taco shack. He brought a change of clothes for you.”

Samantha groans.

“No thanks. I like what I’m wearing just fine.”

Jake casts a glance over his shoulder.

“So do I, but we want you to blend in, not stand out.”

Samantha flicks her hair over her shoulder, thankfully conceding.

“Fair point, but it better not be a city worker’s coveralls.”

Jake turns back to the front.

“We have three minutes to get there, or we’ll have to find another meeting spot.”

I climb into the back again, grimacing at the smell of vape fumes and dodging the empty cans of energy drinks. The way Jake drives, it’s probably safer, and I don’t want Samantha thinking she’s alone, not when I’m finally making progress with her.

“Is he still driving the truck?”

Jake snags the docket for the payment slip and starts the engine, gunning it before Samantha and I have buckled in.

“Yeah. But he’ll ditch it ASAP. Said he’s already getting grief. Some guy asked him to take a look at his mom’s drainage problem.”

Samantha snorts a laugh, and despite the knot of worry still tightening in my chest for Brooke, I have to fight a smile as we walk out.

Once again, Jake drives like a maniac, but this time, and in this car, it probably makes sense to do so. The only downside is that this is probably the worst car for drawing the real cops’ attention. If we get stopped, it’ll be a game-ender.

As Jake navigates the streets, using GPS and an uncanny knack for shortcuts that actually work, by some small miracle we make it unscathed to a tiny taco truck with tables outside and a dozen other parked trucks.

While the vehicle Samantha chose is noisy—and thanks to the modifications, we’re easily visible—Luke isn’t easy to spot, and I get the feeling that’s just how he likes it. When I do locate him sitting alone at a table, he’s on his phone, talking, with a soda and a half-eaten taco beside him.

As we rumble into the lot, he glances up but immediately returns to his phone call, picking up his taco and taking a bite. Jake hops out, and after a quick scan of the lot, I encourage Samantha to join me as I do the same.

“I’ll go order. Grab the table next to Luke’s. Sit facing him, but don’t look at him when you talk,”

Jake says.

“Wow,”

Samantha says under her breath.

With my eyes on Luke, who is skillfully ignoring our presence, I guide Samantha to the table and sit as Jake directed.

Alongside us, Luke laughs into his phone, belying the seriousness of what comes out of his mouth.

“Silas is en route. I’ll stay to coordinate with Caleb, you and Jake will meet him at the airport.”

I start to turn, ready to ask him a follow-up question, when Samantha reaches over the sticky table and grabs my hands, smiling as if she didn’t hear what he said.

She squeezes hard.

“Where’s my change of clothes?”

It takes me a millisecond to recognize that she’s not addressing me but Luke, who doesn’t miss a beat.

“In a bag under my seat. Get changed immediately.”

Following their lead, I smile back at Samantha, trying to speak through the smile.

“Did Caleb lose them?”

When I hear the crunch of his taco shell and someone walks past our table, coughing, all my muscles tense and I hold my breath.

As if this is second nature to her, Samantha keeps her cool.

“Relax your shoulders, and stop smiling. You’re baring your teeth at me, and you look like you’re about to slug someone. You’re just a guy out with his girl, about to eat a taco.”

Luke clears his throat, as if agreeing with her, so I roll my shoulders and force the smile off my face, instead praying for Brooke and for God to give me peace in the midst of the storm.

Samantha’s lips twitch. “Better.”

Luke doesn’t say another word until Jake sits beside Samantha, handing her a taco and a soda and dumping ours on the table. While my impatience is burning through me, neither of them displays any outward signs they’re feeling any anxiety. When I risk a glance at Luke, he’s hunched over, eating.

Somehow, he manages to project his voice loud enough for us to hear while still eating his messy taco.

“I’ve lost communication with Caleb. Silas will give you an update when he has one.”

Without another word, he balls up his wrapper and rises to his feet, leaving me hanging without the confirmation I needed.

Underneath the table, Jake kicks my foot.

“Eat your taco. By the way, you owe me ten bucks.”

Wondering if he’s joking, I glance at Samantha and find her one step ahead of me. She’s unwrapped her taco and is handing Jake a folded-up ten-dollar bill.

This is surreal. How can they carry on as if nothing is wrong when my sister is in the hands of the same terrorists who strapped a bomb on me?

“I’m not hungry,”

I say to Jake.

He shrugs.

“Neither am I, but this is how we roll.”

I jerk forward, straining to keep my voice low.

“We’re running out of time. They only gave us until midnight.”

Jake jams his taco into his mouth and talks between chews.

“I know that. We all know that. Delilah is working something out.”

“You aren’t going to pay them, are you?”

Samantha asks him.

Jake shakes his head.

“Nah. She’s just rigging an account that can make it look like we did.”

Samantha toys with her taco as I pop the tab on my soda can. “How?”

Jake opens his hands in an “I dunno”

gesture.

“Trick of the trade, I guess. What she does is out of my area of expertise.”

Samantha purses her lips.

“Which is?”

Jake grins at her.

“Similar to what you do, but with a few added bonuses.”

She rolls her eyes at him and looks across the table at me.

“If they send you a bank account, we can see if it matches the one I gave you.”

I smile at her, encouraged that she’s thinking of Brooke’s well-being while Jake finishes his last bite of taco.

“You have a bank account number? Send it to Silas. He’ll pass it on to Delilah.”

I do as requested, pulling my phone out of my pocket to send Samantha's note to Silas, praying they are dumb enough to use the same account as I type out an explanation. He doesn’t reply, but there’s a message from my dad, asking me if I’ve heard from Brooke.

Swallowing down a lump of guilt, I put my phone back into my pocket and pick up my taco. It may as well be chalk and cardboard, but I chew and force it down as I try not to think about having to call Mom and Dad and explain to them why Brooke’s not returning their calls.

Jake glances at his watch and picks up his soda, draining half of it before letting out a burp. When Samantha grimaces, he gets to his feet and stretches out his back.

“Let’s book it.”

I snatch up my trash and am on my feet and walking toward the car before I realize Samantha is dawdling. I spin around, ready to give her the hurry-up, when I see why she was delayed. She remembered what I had forgotten in my hurry to get to Silas —the bag Luke left with her change of clothes. She swoops down casually, picks it up, slides her glasses over her head, and catches up to us.

Jake gets to the car first and opens the door, a smirk growing on his face.

“You going to sit in the back or up here with me?”

he asks me.

I frown, ready to ask why, but Samantha holds up the bag.

“Up front. And I don’t want to see either of you looking in the mirrors until I’m dressed.”

Heat rushes to my face, and I fumble as I yank the front door open and climb in. Behind me the door closes, and Samantha unzips the bag, sighing deeply as she examines the contents.

Jake grins alongside me.

“Having fun yet?”

I glare at him.

“Seriously?”

He pulls a face at me.

“Relax. Hightower is the best of the best. They’ll get her back.”

When I don’t say anything, he jerks his thumb behind us.

“They found her, didn’t they?”

Samantha grunts in acknowledgment.

“We need to get out of here before someone reports the car as stolen.”

He nods and starts the car, glancing in the rearview.

“Eyes straight ahead,” I growl.

“How am I supposed to see whether anything is coming if I don’t look?”

“You’re clear,”

Samantha says.

Sullenly, Jake puts the car into reverse and rolls back slowly, trusting Samantha to be his eyes. When he’s lined up, he swings the nose around as she wrestles into a new set of clothing in the back.

At a break in traffic, he plants his foot, making Samantha curse.

“Watch it!”

Offering her little more than a shrug in reply, he crosses two lanes while I fight the urge to check on Samantha. He keeps driving like that, and with her unrestrained, she’s going to get hurt.

I double my prayers, now praying for Brooke and Samantha, and for Jake to slow down, keeping my mind occupied until I hear an audible click as Samantha fastens her belt. I flip the sun visor down and angle the mirror to see what outfit Hightower have put together for her this time.

Samantha catches me looking and tugs at the camo pants.

“At least I have pockets this time.”

Holding back a laugh, I scan the rest of her, glad she’s wearing flat canvas shoes and a white T-shirt.

“And you’ll blend in rather than stick out.”

She smiles, but it holds an element of uncertainty which twists my knotted stomach even further.

I face the front again and resume praying. Praying that Caleb has found Brooke, that Delilah can organize the money, and that nothing goes wrong.

This is on me. All of it. My lousy choices fueled by vengeance, pride, and anger led to this. If Brooke dies… the pain it’ll cause my parents will be indescribable.

I glance into the mirror again, and my chest squeezes as I see Samantha shifting items from her purse to the pockets of her pants. She trusts me. She actually trusted me enough to give me a memory card with information she believes can protect her freedom.

Whether it does is irrelevant right now.

I have to get Brooke back somehow without exchanging Samantha.

If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life knowing their blood is on my hands.