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“Let me tell you about Shae. She is the toughest girl I know. I know you think she grew up the niece of billionaire, but she grew up with a drug-addicted mom who lived with so many different men it’s a miracle Shae wasn’t abused. When she was ten, she escaped with her mom after a guy beat her mom up. She stole the man’s car and drove her and her mom out of Houston to somewhere in Dallas, where they ran out of gas. She lived in that car for a month, stealing and digging out of dumpsters to keep them alive. Her mom eventually got so sick, Shae—whose name was Esme at the time—had to choose between taking her mom into the hospital and being taken away by CPS, or letting her mother die—so no choice there, but she knew she’d lose the only family she had. The terrible thing was that CPS didn’t step in, didn’t find her, and a few weeks later, when her mother got out of the hospital, she found Shae and went right back to their crazy life. It wasn’t until after that, when her mom got arrested, that her uncle Ian stepped in and took her home and suddenly her whole life changed. Except it didn’t, not in her head, and she fell for a guy named Dante—good guy, but they were teenagers, and despite the world Uncle Ian gave her, she didn’t believe in a future that was any different than her mother’s. And maybe Dante would have been different, because they were out hiking, and she saw a man kill his girlfriend and then come after them, and Dante died trying to protect her.”
Roy was holding his drink, just staring at him. Fraser wore a frown.
And it could be that he was a little more earnest than he needed to be, but maybe he was trying to convince himself too, just a little, that yes, Shae was tough.
“So she ran and hid, and yeah, she was scared, because this guy who murdered her boyfriend was known in town and had power, so she hopped on a bus and traveled two states away and reinvented herself and started a new life as Shae Johnson. Went to college, got a degree in design, and then, because she’s also the bravest person I know, she returned home, and when the murderer tracked her down and tried to kill her—again—this time she fought him and won and—”
His voice broke a little, so much hope and maybe a little fear in it. “—and for the past four years she’s been patiently waiting for me to propose, building her career, traveling. She’s independent and smart, and I don’t know how she got into this mess or ended up in Russia, but yeah, if anyone has the courage and willpower and even brains to survive this, it’s Shae.”
Roy took a breath. Nodded. Finished his drink.
Fraser leaned back, his arms laced behind his head. “Feel better?”
Ned took a breath. “Maybe a little.” But actually, no. “Hearing myself talk, I’m starting to wonder if…” He ran a hand behind his neck. “It’s never bothered me that she was so willing to wait for me to propose until now. As if…maybe she didn’t actually need me. Or didn’t want to.”
“Well, she needs you now, Ned.” This from Roy, who was crushing his can. “She called you.”
“Of course she needs me now, but…aw, it doesn’t matter. We’ll find her, and we’ll get married, and maybe then I’ll stop worrying about her so much.”
Silence to his words, and Fraser raised an eyebrow.
But that was the answer, right? Marry her. Keep her safe. “I just would like to deploy knowing that she’s not going to find herself running from a murderer, or kidnapped, or even in some car accident and hiking through the wilderness on her own.”
Roy had picked up his phone as a text came in. “From Logan. The Finnish police picked up your photos from passport control, and there’s a BOLO out for Bruce and Vinnie Danielson.” He pocketed it. “We need to get you guys out of Finland and hook you up with new identities. Pronto, before you land in Interpol.”
“And then what?” Fraser said, getting up.
Roy grabbed his jacket. “I think the answer is obvious.” He pulled on the jacket as Ned grabbed his backpack. “How’s your Russian?”
* * *
Shae just hadto keep her wits about her. Stay alert. Find landmarks.
Listen for clues.
Anything to help Ned find her. Because hewouldfind her. He was smart. And no one stood in Ned’s way when he wanted something. He was the most tenacious person she’d ever met.
He’d have to be if he hoped to track Shae across Russia to whatever gulag they’d decided to take her to.
At least she traveled in style. Probably, no prisoner had ever been transferred to Siberia in a private Gulfstream jet with leather seats, long sofa and entertainment area, bar, and most of all, a back bedroom where she’d been shoved to endure the long trip.
They hadn’t even bothered to hood her when they drove her to a nearby airstrip shortly after her call and what seemed like hours ago. And they hadn’t tied her up either. But it wasn’t like she was going anywhere, right? The flight attendant, a pretty woman who acted oblivious to the fact that Shae was confined to the room, had brought her some potato and beet soup and bread, and this morning, as they’d crossed over the Urals and jetted toward the wasteland of Siberia, had offered her cold noodles and tea.
Could be worse. Could be moldy bread and rank water.
No, could bea lotworse. She could be raped or beaten or sold into slavery.
Although, Lukka’s behavior—the sense that he didn’t want her hurt, just confined—didn’t bode well for her future.
Untouched goods. Nice. She didn’t want to let on thatvirginwas also among her list of qualities. Yikes. So yeah, maybe give her gulag. She was from Montana…well, part of her was from Montana, at least. She knew how to survive cold.
And the rest of her just knew how to survive.
Please, Ned, find me.
They’d stopped twice for fuel, and she’d looked out the window both times to see trucks or buildings at the airfield with names on them written in Russian.
So, not a big help, since she couldn’t read Cyrillic. But they were headed east—way, way east, given the setting of the sun and then the chasing of the dawn. She’d gotten some sleep—well, not exactly sleep, but she’d closed her eyes and tried to listen to the conversation outside the door.
