Clara noticed the surprised expression. “All ri’?”
Annabelle blinked. “Umm…”
“She means, ‘hi, how are you, and why are you surprised to see that she suddenly appeared in the kitchen when the last time you saw her, she was getting into a fight with one of my men at the airport.”
Clara blinked, brows risen, and cocked her head to one side, her gaze flitting from her father to Annabelle. Annabelle smiled and blushed.
“Cor, da’, no need ta get narked. I get the point.” She turned to Annabelle again. “Sorry, Miss Drake.”
“Clara is familiar with this house and… unfortunately, with the little act she pulled in the terminal.”
“I was aces, yeah? Alex wasn’t too shabby either. Once we agreed to leave the airport, they let the cuffs off and Alex got us a ride. We drove around for a while to throw any taggers off and, then bob’s your uncle, here we are!” Clara smiled a brilliant, white smile and winked at Dylan, who tried to act cool about it but was very obviously blushing beneath his calm demeanor.
Jack didn’t say anything. Annabelle watched him carefully. There was a carnival of thought going on behind his shaded blue eyes.
“Right, then!” Clara jumped down from the counter and brushed her hands on the legs of her jeans. “I’m off to spend a penny.” She brushed past her father and Annabelle and headed through the living room, where a hallway led to a bathroom and two bedrooms beyond.
“Spend a penny?”
“Use the restroom.”
“Oh.” Annabelle ran a hand through her hair. And then she stopped. She’d been temporarily distracted from their previous conversation and the source of her extreme agitation, but it came crashing suddenly back as the thought of getting into a tin can with teensy wings and rocketing to 37,000 feet sent a horrible chill down her spine and formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach.
“Come with me, Bella.” Jack gently grabbed her by the upper arm and steered her through the living room, down the same hallway through which his daughter had just disappeared.
They moved to the last door on the left and Jack turned the knob. He led Annabelle inside and closed the door behind them. Then he released her and moved to the black bag that sat at the edge of the bed. He leaned over, unzipped it, and pulled a small black bottle from an interior pocket. He turned to face her.
Annabelle watched as he opened the bottle and shook a pill out into the cap. It was small, round, and white, with a single line down its center. To Annabelle, it looked like an aspirin. And felt like something much more sinister.
“Drugs, Jack? I didn’t think you were a fan.”
His eyebrow shot up and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. “I’m not, luv. These aren’t for me.”
Annabelle’s brow furrowed. And then she straightened. “Oh…” She looked from him to the pills in his hand and, at once, recognized them for what they were.
Murder weapons.
“You want me to take something that you were planning on using on one of your marks, Jack?” Again, her hands were on her hips. They seemed to have taken up residence there. “Poison?” Her expression was incredulous.
“I never use poison, Bella. That’s far too obvious. Only an amateur would consider it.” He shook his head. “Stick with the basics and no one so much as bats an eye.” He moved toward her, took her hand, and opened it palm-up. “This is a mild tranquilizer. It’ll get you on the plane.”
Annabelle stared down at the pill in her hand. The world spun around her. Jack Thane was giving her drugs. It was, honestly, the very last thing she would have expected from him. He didn’t even so much as drink. He was a clean string bean.
“Nope.” She shook her head once and made to hand the pill back to him. But he didn’t take it.
“In less than three hours, we’ll be boarding a private jet at a private landing strip,” he told her, his tone dropping into a more serious note. “At that time, our little group will consist of myself, Dylan, whose parents were the target in this cover-up, Cassie, who has useful knowledge in the pharmaceutical arena, and you, Bella, who are at the center of this entire mystery, whether you like it or not.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I need you to be ready and willing and able to help. None of which will you be if you are too busy dreaming up all of the wonderfully imaginative ways in which a plane might crash and its occupants might expire.” There was more than the smallest note of sarcasm lacing his deep, British accent.
Annabelle’s gaze narrowed. She glanced down at the pill and then back up at him. “Who’s going to be flying the plane?”
“An old mate of mine who actually owns the plane.”
“And exactly how old is this mate of yours? Scratch that – actually,” she shifted her stance onto her other hip, a thoughtful expression joining the one of doubt that had already occupied her face. “I’m guessing you’re referring to Sam, so I already know. How old is the plane?”
“The plane is new,” Jack answered calmly. “And Sam has been flying for the better part of thirty years.”
Bella stared up at him for several long moments. She slowly closed her fingers over the pill in her palm and then sighed. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, we’d better check on Beatrice – and I want to give Trinity a call to make sure she and that guy you sent her and the twins off with got to the safe house all right.”
Jack followed her out of the bedroom without saying anything more, for the moment. His mind was moving at a thousand RPM’s and showed no signs of slowing any time soon. Fear coursed through his veins in unfamiliar territory. He didn’t like fear. It made people do strange things – unplanned things – and messed up their ability to reason logically. It had been a while since Jack had experienced it. The real stuff, anyway. A few worries and your mandatory concern here and there – but not fear. Real, live dread.
And it wasn’t a plane ride that had him on edge.
He watched as Annabelle moved down the hallway toward the living room and kitchen and the phone that hung on the wall between the two. He didn’t fail to notice when she covertly snuck the pill he’d given her into her jeans’ front pocket. He smiled grimly. The next few days were going to be hell on wheels.
“Mr. Thane,” Alex intercepted them as they entered the living room. He was holding what looked like a walkie-talkie in his right hand and a gun, un-holstered and loaded, in his left. The gun was easy at his side, pointed toward the floor. The radio, he held out toward Jack.
Alex was left-handed. Annabelle always noticed things like that.
Jack took the walkie-talkie that Alex handed him and clicked a button on its side. “Go.” He said, and released the button.
“We have a touch-down. Give him a few to re-fuel and run some checks and you guys can head on over.”
“Fine.” Jack clicked and un-clicked the button one last time and handed the radio back to Alex, who waited patiently for instruction.
“Wake up Cassie and find my daughter. Tell them to gather whatever they think they’ll need from the stores in the basement. We’ll move out within the hour.”
Alex nodded and Annabelle watched him leave the room. Her stomach leapt up into her throat. She thought about the pill in her pocket. Jack’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Join me for a cup of tea, Bella.”
She turned to watch him move around her and into the kitchen, where he began pulling containers and mugs from the cupboards. He filled a tea kettle with water from the tap and placed it atop the stove. It was a very old-fashioned way of making tea, to her mind. She had practically married her microwave over the last five years. Her stove would be obsolete if she didn’t love spaghetti so much.