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She was going to live. She was going to grow old and fat and have children and live happily ever after, whether she liked it or not, as far away from him as possible. He had every intention of seeing to it.
Once he got her safely stowed he could concentrate on his mission: stopping the deadly doomsday cult before they could put their plans into action. Madame Lambert might give him shit, but in the end she’d trust his judgment. He just had to make certain the Shirosama was stopped, sooner rather than later. That was the only way Summer would be safe.
She wasn’t speaking to him now, but staring stone-faced out the window as he drove through the night. Anything was better than her laughter, the eerie sound of her losing control. He’d wanted to stop the car, pull her into his arms and hold her tightly until the hysteria stopped. Crazy notion, when they had to get the hell out of there as fast as they could.
The one good thing in all this was that she hated him with a fiery passion. He’d shamed her, rejected her, destroyed her family home. She even knew he’d planned to kill her. Any tender feelings she might have for him would be burned to a cinder of hatred.
And since, time after time, his crazy instincts had made him save her, he’d save her one more time. He’d save her from him. Then, if there was any mercy in this world, he’d be able to forget about her.
17
Jilly woke slowly, drifting into wakefulness in the inky darkness. She could see nothing at all, not even the shape of the woman who was either her guard, her brainwasher or her rescuer, but she knew she wasn’t alone. The drugs were wearing off quickly now. She could feel life flowing back into her body, and she tested her muscles, flexing them enough to know they worked, without letting the woman realize a thing. Even her fingers were responding—they were close beside her body, but she could make them move. Now she simply had to decide what to do next. The woman who had drugged her was smaller than she was, but incredibly strong, and if Jilly tried to overpower her she’d probably end up with another syringeful of drugs. The woman hadn’t precisely said she was going to help, but anyone who lied to the slimy Shirosama had to be more friend than enemy.
Jilly’s body jerked in surprise when she felt the woman whisper in her ear. “You’re ready,” she said, and Jilly wondered how she knew. “Do exactly what I tell you and stay calm, no matter what happens.”
Not the most reassuring warning, but Jilly sat up anyway, relieved that her head seemed entirely clear. The woman took her hand in the darkness, leading her from the bed. Jilly had a sudden wash of intense paranoia, that this was all part of the plan to brainwash her, to trick her into giving up whatever they thought she had. She had no idea where her sister was right now, and even if she did she wasn’t about to tell them. Lianne she would have given up in a heartbeat, much as she loved her feckless mother. Summer was a different matter entirely.
Jilly had no shoes, only the loose white pajamas they’d dressed her in—not good for skulking in the dark. She couldn’t see anything, hear anything, but the sudden influx of cool air told her that the woman had managed to open the door to her cell. A moment later they were out, walking silently in the thick darkness, Jilly’s hand in the stranger’s as she led the way.
It was marginally brighter outside—light pollution from the nearby city—and Jilly got a good look at the woman with her as they stopped in the shadow of the building. She’d lost the glasses she’d worn earlier, but her dark hair was still neatly tucked in a bun at the back of her head. She was wearing heels and somehow managing to be silent in them.
“We’re going to have to run for it,” she whispered in Jilly’s ear. “They won’t be expecting anything, but we’ll still only have about twenty seconds before they’re onto us. Do you see the yellow SUV parked under the tree?”
“Isn’t that a little—” The woman slapped a hand over her mouth to silence her. When she removed it, Jilly whispered “—obvious?”
“Trust me. I’m a professional,” the woman said, and Jilly wondered how she could sound wry when she barely made any noise. “It’s got a remote starter, but the moment I trigger it they’ll see us. Wait for my signal and then run for it.”
And get a bullet between the shoulder blades, Jilly thought dismally. Not that the Shirosama’s goons carried guns. They probably just bored people to death. Still, she didn’t have much choice but to obey. She nodded.
The woman beside her was pointing her cell phone at the SUV, and damn if the thing didn’t start. “Run!”
Jilly took off, sprinting across the field in her bare feet, feeling like a target. She could hear shouts in the distance, feel the woman close behind her. She was almost at the car when the woman behind her went down.
Jilly looked back. “Keep going!” the woman called out. “Get out of here!”
The SUV was within reach, already running, but Jilly didn’t hesitate. She could see the white-robed brethren converging at the edge of the field, she sprinted back, grabbing the woman who lay sprawled in the grass, and hoisting her up.
“Let go of me. Run!” the woman shouted.
Jilly ignored her. She put her arm around the woman’s small waist and half dragged her to the SUV, dumping her inside before she jumped into the driver’s seat. A moment later she tore out of the parking lot, heading straight for the bright lights of Los Angeles.
She heard a popping sound and the crinkle of breaking glass. So the holy ones had guns, after all…She
glanced at the woman beside her. She was pale, and the dark hair was a wig—it had fallen in her lap, exposing silver-blond hair. There was no sign of blood on her white suit, just mud and grass stains, and she was missing one high-heeled shoe.
The woman was swearing under her breath, some really impressive cursing that Jilly hoped she’d remember in the future. Astonishing that such an elegant creature could use words that would make a rapper blush.
“Are you okay?” Jilly asked.
“I think I broke my ankle,” the woman muttered, letting out another stream of invective. “Head for the freeway south and drive as fast as you can. If we get picked up for speeding it’ll keep the Shirosama’s zombies from getting to us.”
“Among other things,” Jilly said. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
The woman leaned her head back against the seat and moaned. “I thought everyone in California could drive,” she said. The accent was definitely British, and she was younger than Jilly had first thought.
“I can drive very well,” she assured her. “I got my license last year. Unfortunately, I didn’t keep it for too long. I like to speed.”
“Well, in this case it’s a good thing,” the woman said. “Do you know how to find LAX from here?”
