“Thank you.”
“One question, Stevie . . .” She’d hated to bring this possibility up. “Even if you find Archie, what if you can’t control him? What then? We can’t stand by and let him hurt you.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Meaning what?”
“What I said.”
She couldn’t let her escape answering that question. “It will be difficult, but if there are no other options, are you prepared to help . . . destroy Archie?”
Stevie turned and looked outside the helicopter window for a long moment. “If it comes to that, I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him. I promise.”
CHAPTER
18
8:15A.M.
WEMBLEY STADIUM
LONDON
Kendra, Stevie, Lynch, and Jessie ran across Wembley Stadium’s main plaza, which was already flooded with attendees for the daylong festival.
Their helicopter had landed at London Heliport, and a waiting limo had successfully negotiated the heavy traffic building around the stadium.
Lynch punched a number and raised his phone to his ear. He muttered a curse and cut the connection. “Voicemail. My contact at MI5 isn’t answering his phone. He’s probably here somewhere. As soon as I can get in touch, I’m sure he can get us inside. I’ll send him another text.”
Jessie looked at her phone and smiled broadly. “No need. It so happens I have a contact here.”
“Really?” Kendra said. “Who?”
“You’re about to see. Gate L. Just around to the left.” Jessie was walking quickly, her pace increasing with every stride.
Kendra, Lynch, and Stevie were giving one another mystified looks as they followed her around the massive arena. In less than five minutes, they approached Gate L, where a young man with an iPad was checking in guests and rally participants.
“Name?” he said.
“Jessie Mercado, plus three.”
He checked his iPad. “Sorry, I don’t have you here.”
“There must be some mistake, I was just told—”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, if you’ll just step aside . . .”
“Hey, is that any way to treat my guests!”
Everyone in the immediate vicinity turned and then did a double take as they were confronted by one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. Jake Brice walked up wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and his twenty-million-dollar smile. He kissed Jessie and fist-bumped the shocked attendant. “Just joking, you’re doing a great job.”
The attendant scrolled through the names on his iPad. “Mr. Brice, I don’t see your name here . . .”
“No, it wouldn’t be there. I was invited to appear, but I had to decline because of my shooting schedule. As luck would have it, I have a day off today. Talk to your producer.”
A young woman walked up from behind the attendant. “That would be me. I’m so glad you can join us, Mr. Brice. I’m Katrina Pace.”
“Yes! We met at the Golden Globes a few years ago.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.
