Kiss (41 page)

He tossed his phone from one hand to the other and back again while they dragged Lopez back out of the room. In less than an hour, he’d summon Shauna.

“It won’t work,” Frank said around a mouthful of burrito.

They sat outside a filling station near the 10 and the 610, anticipating that Wayne might direct them south toward the Ship Channel.

Shauna had filled the tank with gas, then bought a map and two large bottles of water. She’d become increasingly distressed that Wayne hadn’t yet contacted them. It was two forty-five. She was not exactly in the mood to discuss the merits of her precarious plan with Frank.

“I mean”—Frank swallowed—“you won’t be able to trust anything he says. He’ll be talking fear, not sense.”

“I don’t care what he says,” Shauna snapped.

“It’s one of the most ineffective means—”

“All I need is for him to
think,
okay? If he’s scared, that will work in my favor.”

Frank shrugged. “What you’re planning is illegal. Banned internationally. You might want to think twice.”

“Look, Frank, why are you here?”

“Because you hate Wayne Spade more than I do.”

“Do you want this to work or not?”

“Well sure.”

“Then put a little effort into it.”

Frank shrugged. “It’s your gig. You want sunshine and rainbows, I’ll lighten up.” He took another huge bite.

Shauna inhaled a calming breath.

“There’s so much riding on this. Be my muscles for five minutes—less than that if everything goes well. I’ll be finished and you can do what you want with him.”

“Five minutes, then I get my turn.”

She nodded.

He grinned and sang, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .”

She glared at him until he continued eating.

Miguel’s phone buzzed. Shauna flinched.

She placed the phone against her ear. “Where’s Miguel?” she said.

“It’s a text message, Shauna,” Frank said.

Shauna lowered the phone and checked the display. An address. She showed it to Frank, who crammed the remainder of his meal into his mouth and opened the map.

Where’s Miguel?
she typed.

Wayne answered in seconds.

> On the road

She asked,

> Is he with you?

> I’m no dating service

> Prove he’s alive. I need to know

> You don’t need to know. You’ll come anyway

It was true. It was true, and they both knew it. Shauna’s eyes burned.

“Found it,” Frank said. “Near Brady Island. Minutes away.”

> When will I get to see him?

> I’m waiting

Shauna tossed the phone onto the floor between the seats and pulled out of the gas station, allowing Frank to navigate. They headed south on 610, got off on the south side of the channel, and moved into the industrial complex just east of the small, commercial island.

The thick shadows of the surrounding oil refineries looked to Shauna like an alien ghost town. The moon had shifted and dimmed. A couple hundred yards from the location Wayne had given her, she pulled off the road. Frank got out of the car.

“Promise you won’t lose me,” she said. He responded by tipping his fingers to his forehead in salute, then walking off.

It was important that she show up alone.

Shauna picked up the phone. She located the address Wayne had sent, then found the phone number Detective Beeson had given to Miguel earlier in the evening.

She was stupid, no doubt, to dive headfirst into this shallow pool called Wayne Spade, but she wouldn’t be a complete fool about it. And Frank Danson didn’t count. She composed a brief message for Beeson in front of the address:

> You want Wayne Spade for Corbin Smith’s murder, for my accident, for much more. I have murder weapon. Laundering data possibly connected to White House will reach you today. We’re here

She hit
send
and shut the phone off.

She guessed Beeson could be there in an hour, if he was even awake and had access to a police helicopter. Or she might only have ten minutes if he notified Houston PD to get a move on ahead of him. Or he might not get the message for hours.

She only needed five minutes. If Frank followed through.

38

The small warehouse sat fifty feet off the nearest dock. The narrow Houston Ship channel divided here, one branch cutting under Brady Island and the other heading north and west toward the heart of Houston. Shauna pulled the Jeep in at the back and grabbed her bottles of water before getting out. A mild onshore breeze ruffled the collar of Shauna’s blouse and gave her a chill.

Walking around the building, she passed an exterior metal staircase that ran up the east-facing side to what she presumed were offices. Beneath the steps, she found an open door. A light over the top spilled out into the unpaved alley between this warehouse and the next.

She set the water down against the steel siding before stepping in. The door closed behind her and created an echo that bounced off oil barrels and shipping containers. The air smelled burnt and dusty.

“Back here, babe.” Wayne’s voice bounced around too, but even if she had known where it came from, she wouldn’t have followed it. She needed him to step outside with her.

“I’ve come as far as I’ll go,” she said. “Where’s Miguel?”

“I don’t know. Come back here and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“You’ll never tell me.”

“Getting smarter, are we?” She heard another door shut, and the sound of his hard-soled shoes on concrete. She pressed her back against the crash bar, not sure from where he would appear. “You know why I won’t tell you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Because I really don’t have the information.” He emerged from the right, popping out of shadows at the end of a row of containers. He wore dress shoes and a lightweight jacket.

“I don’t believe you. You’ve never spoken a word of truth to me. Maybe not to anyone.”

He nodded, shrugged. “I guess that would make the truth all the more confusing when it’s finally spoken.”

She didn’t believe him. The whole point of this maneuver was to manipulate her—he knew exactly where Miguel was. Wayne took a step toward Shauna, and she shoved the door open with her backside. She spun and ran toward the Jeep.

She had taken six long strides down the alley toward the rear of the building when Wayne took her down from behind, tackling her at the shoulders and driving her into the gravel. The grit grated her chest. The wind left her, and her vision clouded at the edges.

Her spirit sagged. This was not what she had intended. She meant to get closer to the Jeep.

Wayne flipped her onto her back, then straddled her waist on the ground, trapping her hands with his knees. She felt her throat gape, willing to take air in but drawing nothing. The muscles in her own chest would suffocate her if they didn’t relax.

She finally took in a gasp. Wayne patted her cheek.

“That’s it, Shauna. You stay calm now.” She gulped air, and he withdrew an object from his jacket pocket. Two objects. A roll of tape, and a paper packet that fluttered to the ground. He tore off a long piece of the tape, then used his knees and his free hand to set her on her side. She fought him, but he out-muscled her easily.

“You could make this so much easier if you’d let me take care of you,” he muttered.

Wayne bound her wrists, then turned her back over so that her hands were like a rock under her spine.

His hands found the paper packet. It was a sterile packet of some kind, like the kind that held gauze. Only she feared this one held something less benign.

He peeled the wrapper away and withdrew a patch that looked like an extra-large bandage. Then he opened the top two buttons of her blouse and slapped the patch right over her heart. He shoved the wrapper back in his pocket. Shauna’s breath quickened. Where was Frank?

“That won’t take long,” he said. “Not as fast-acting as a needle to the bloodstream, but safer for me with all the thrashing you do.”

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you back to the beginning.”

The skin under the patch burned.

“I need you to tell me where Miguel is.”

“Like I said, I don’t know. I think I’ve figured out how this little mind trick you’ve developed works, and the sad thing is, I don’t think it’s very effective against your enemies. Which puts me at a nice advantage in a case like this. The problem, of course, is that it doesn’t make the drug very appealing on the foreign markets. So we need to work out that little kink. You and Miguel can help us with that.”

“Don’t you have enough of a foreign industry going to keep you busy?” If Frank had ditched her . . .

Wayne seemed surprised at that. “You found out about our little operation? Well, we’ll have to take care of that particular memory. Maybe there’s a way to target specific—”

“Human rights violations? Trafficking in children? There are thousands of ways to break the law, Wayne. Why would you pick that one?”

“Nice paycheck. Cushy lifestyle.” He leaned over and exhaled directly over her mouth and nose. “Pretty women.” Wayne hovered for a threatening second. “And the loyalty of the most powerful man in the world.” He shifted as if to stand.

“If you think he’ll stay loyal when he finds out—”

Wayne laughed. “You always were naive, Shauna. That’s what I like about—”

A cannon that was Frank shot Wayne off of Shauna’s body and hurtled him sideways. The men wrestled and she heard Wayne shout. Shauna rolled to her knees and eventually found her feet. Frank, who was probably thirty pounds heavier than Wayne, found the top of the pile and lifted a fist.

“Don’t knock him out!” she yelled. She rushed over.

Frank swore and cuffed Wayne in the shoulder instead of the face.

“My hands, my hands. Frank, help me get loose!” She needed to peel this thing off her chest. She needed to stay alert. Her blood was zooming through her veins now, carrying Wayne’s drugs to her brain.

“Kinda busy here,” Frank grunted. He’d pinned Wayne beneath him but had yet to secure the man’s thrashing arms and legs.

“Tape in his pocket,” she said, rushing to the stairwell. She checked the metal railing. It was so hard to see! She leaned her shoulder into the rail and dragged it over the surface, found an edge sharp enough to snag her shirt. She lifted her wrists to it and began to saw. She hoped she still had enough time.

Shauna’s vision tunneled for a second, then cleared. She had to hurry before the full dose of whatever sedative was in that patch reached her head.

She felt the tape giving way by the time Frank hauled Wayne to the stairs with wrists, knees, and ankles bound. She rushed Frank.

“Help me!”

He had her wrists undone in seconds, and she clawed at the patch, peeling it away and tossing it into the gravel. She raced for the water bottles, stumbled halfway there, then kept going. She could not mess this up.

By the time she returned, Frank had Wayne inclined on the stairway, head on the bottom step, feet pointing toward the top. Frank held him by the ankles. Wayne’s shirt was bloody, and from the awkward position of his body, Shauna thought one of his legs might have been broken.

“Was that really necessary?” She knelt on the ground at Wayne’s head, felt her equilibrium tilt, then level out.

“You said I could do what I want.”

“When I’m done.” Shauna unscrewed a bottle. Between the two, she had about a liter.

Frank held his watch up to the faint moonlight.

“I give you three more minutes.”

“Let me have your shirt.”

“What?”

“Take off your shirt.”

He peeled it off and tossed it to her. She wrapped it over Wayne’s face. He rolled his head around, but she secured the cloth by tying the arms behind his head.

Wayne was groaning, from pain, she thought. She tipped the bottle so that water ran into his nose through the cloth. He choked and sputtered.

“Remember when you tried to drown me, Wayne?” He thrashed as she let another dump rush into his mouth. She gripped the hair at the back of his head to keep it steady. “Maybe you don’t, because your memory of that moment is mostly mine now. Your memory of stabbing me in the ribs. So I thought I’d re-create the moment for you.”

She held the bottle up so that the water came out in a steady stream. She’d get a few seconds’ worth out of this, and that might be enough.

Wayne thrashed violently, but she held on. “I need you to tell me where Miguel is, Wayne.”

“Dunno,” he managed.

“You do, and I need you to tell me now, because the whole world is about to descend on this place and haul your sorry self out of here.”

The water continued to flow, and Wayne’s back went rigid.

“He’s not gonna say a thing,” Frank said.

Shauna lifted the bottle and stopped the flow.

“Where?” she said.

“Wilde,” Wayne said. “With Wilde.”

She emptied the bottle on his face.

“Not true,” Frank said. “Don’t believe it.”

Shauna leaned in to Wayne’s ear as her first bottle ran out. She reached for the second bottle.

Wayne gulped air.

“I only need one word, Wayne
.
You know what that is?” She unscrewed the cap. “It’s
please.
You say please. You tell me you don’t want to drown. You beg me to save your life. Because otherwise, I will keep you under.”

Wayne cried out. She tipped the next bottle over his face. “Just say please,
babe.
”

This time, Shauna let the water flow, slow and even, enough to keep the sensation strong. Honestly, she didn’t care if he said please. She really didn’t need him to say anything. She only needed him to need her. When he acknowledged that she had the power to keep him alive, he would need her more than ever.

He started convulsing.

This would take all of a few seconds. She could find Miguel hiding out in Wayne’s mind in maybe ten more. Surely a trained marine could hold his breath for thirty seconds.

Of course, from Wayne’s point of view, that wasn’t how this particular form of suffering worked.

He was hysterical now, choking on his own need to stay alive.

She was almost out of water.