She grinned to herself, delighting in the fact that he couldn’t see her face and so had no way of determining the brazenly sexual thoughts racing through her head. As Jack took her through the New York streets and alleys as if he’d lived there his whole life instead of Yorkshire, Annabelle’s fatigue began to wear off. It dropped away with every curve they hugged and was blown away with the wind they made.
They rode for more than an hour before Annabelle was once more wide awake and aware enough to realize that an hour was a little long for them to be going full blast in a city the size of New York and not reach their destination. Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, placing her lips beside Jack’s ear.
“What’s going on?” she said, loud enough for him to hear her over the roar of the engine.
Jack’s grip tightened at the feel of Annabelle’s breath against his skin and it took a good amount of control to keep from speeding the bike up in reaction. He turned slightly to look over his shoulder. “Just want to be sure you’re awake, luv.” His voice matched hers in volume. The two had plenty of experience communicating over the bellow of motorcycle engines.
“What for?” She should have known better than to honestly expect that they’d go somewhere quiet and get some sleep. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Jack asleep in the entire ten years she’d known him. Come to think of it, there was a lot having to do with Jack Thane that she’d never seen. Like his naked body. Not once. What was up with that? He’d seen hers!
“We’ve got a building to break into,” he said, bringing her mind once more out of the gutter. She blinked and shook her head once.
“So this whole ride was just to wake me up so we could do this evil deed tonight?” Riding a Hog was one thing. Breaking and entering was a whole different kind of criminal.
“The less time we waste, the better.”
She was silent for a few moments, allowing him to turn his full attention back to the road as they entered an area with other traffic and a few late-night pedestrians. She chewed on her lower lip and then laid her head against his upper back. When she did, she felt a soreness in her gums on that side, just beneath her cheek bone. She ran her tongue over the teeth there to find that one of them jiggled a little.
Oh no, she thought. That bastard knocked a tooth loose.
Dread swept through her at the thought of visiting a dentist. All white coats and needles and the smell of lidocaine and the sound of drills. Not her favorite places in the world. She avoided them at all costs.
The Harley carved around another corner and she found herself thinking, maybe it will get better. A straight away and another corner and she thought, Maybe, if it doesn’t, the dentist won’t be so bad.
She closed her eyes. She didn’t like the idea of pulling a cat burglar routine at Columbia University, but she also knew good and well that it was necessary. Necessarily done by her, on the other hand, not so much. She’d sort of pictured Jack and Sam going through the place on their own, leaving her and the others out of the thick of it. Why was Jack bringing her along instead?
She opened her eyes and, in a few moments, recognized the fact that they were on a campus. No matter what famous architect worked on a school, a University’s buildings all took on that learned-in look. The manicured lawns and bountiful trees and shining street lamps were a dead give-away, as well as the paved walk-ways, bike paths and designated parking signs.
“This isn’t exactly covert, Jack!” Annabelle hollered at him. The sound of a Harley never failed to get plenty of attention.
“Noted!” He hollered back.
Annabelle mentally shrugged and figured he had a plan.
When he pulled into the Fort Washington Garage, two blocks away from the Black building, where the dean’s office ought to be, she knew that at least part of whatever plan he did have involved a lot of walking. She was grateful for the fact that she was still dressed in her “bullet-proof” riding gear and comfortable boots.
Jack cut the engine and held the bike while she dismounted.
“What are we doing, Jack? We can’t just walk right in,” she told him after he kicked down the stand and got off.
He turned a white grin on her and cocked his head to one side, pulling the keys out of his pocket with one gloved hand. “Why not, luv?” He held the keys up in front of her and his grin widened.
So his plan was of the, we-have-every-right-to-be-here sort. She hated those plans. She’d never been able to get a drink with a fake ID when she was under-age. Her nerves had always given her away.
“Jack, why did you bring me with you?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she was whining. She so did not want to be doing this.
He chuckled. “A man accompanied by an attractive young woman looks a lot less suspicious than two men or a man alone,” he told her softly. He once more took her wrist, this time allowing his grip to slide to her hand and hold fast there. She spun around and walked with him as he made his way through the pedestrian exit of the garage and down several flights of stairs.
Annabelle wondered, exactly, what Jack hoped to find when they reached the dean’s office. Did he think it would be some secluded door at the end of a darkened hallway where no one would be watching? Because, she could pretty much guarantee that wouldn’t be the case. The office was attached to a very large hospital, after all. And hospitals never slept.
But she was also finding it hard to be really scared about the whole prospect with Jack’s hand firmly wrapped around her own. It felt too strong, too secure – too safe. He was a man who had been killing people and getting away with it for a really long time. If he wasn’t worried about this tiny illegal tangent, then she had every plausible right not to be as well.
They made their way across 165th street and up Fort Washington Avenue, crossing beneath several sky-ways as they did so. The architecture of the surrounding buildings was vast and impressive. At several points, Annabelle found herself slowing down to get a better look. Jack let her do so, allowing her a little time to admire something she’d never seen before.
But then he would gently tug her forward, reminding her that they were there for a reason. They had been shot at, beaten up, and Max and Teresa Anderson were both dead. This wasn’t exactly the time to stop and smell the roses.
They came to the end of the block and rounded the corner onto 168th street.
“Which suite was it?” Jack asked her as he led her into one of the tall buildings and to an elevator. They passed various people along the way, all moving quickly and with purpose. Most wore white lab coats, but some wore blue operating room scrubs and others wore plain clothes. A few people even scuttled past in their pajamas. The Presbyterian hospital and its neighboring affiliates were nothing if not busy.
“Fourteen-oh-eight,” she answered, recalling the address on the map that Clara had brought back from her earlier excursion.
Jack waited until they could take the elevator alone and hopped in, pulling Annabelle in behind him. He punched a number on the pad, inserted a key from the ring he’d taken off of Dr. Beckman, turned the key, and waited as the elevator began to take them upward.
When the elevator doors opened again, Jack, pulled the key back out of the wall and led the way out. Annabelle nervously followed him down a carpeted corridor to a double wood and glass door with the suite number 1408 off to the left. The lights beyond the glass were dark. No one was home.