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17
Gage tried to duck out twice: once when he’d excused himself to the bedroom to get some clothes on—he was thinking of trying the balcony for an exit, but Anna came in and rushed him back out to deal with her mother while she dressed—and once when room service arrived. Eloise ruined that plan by dismissing the server and telling him to bring up a decent meal, whatever the hell that meant.
The SEALs should have Eloise on their side. There would never be another failed mission with her at the helm. She had the look of a woman somewhere between fifty and sixty, though her careful makeup hinted that she was on the higher end of that curve. And she was a force to be reckoned with. She pushed Anna into changing her story. “The idea that a Middleton would be shocked into running because of a mere robbery is absurd! We’ll go with a kidnapping. You escaped, assisted by Mr.…” She turned to Gage.
“I’d like my name left out of it.”
Eloise’s eyes narrowed. She glanced from Gage to Anna, but she nodded. “Even better. Anna, you escaped on your own.”
“Mother…Eloise, there was a fire at the house where I was held. I don’t think you want people potentially speculating that I was responsible. Just…let’s stick with the break-in angle. I simply went to stay with friends—a wise move for anyone who has had their home violated.”
Eloise’s mouth tightened, but she merely lifted one shoulder. “Very well. You always were a difficult child. So the story is that you went to stay with friends. And now you are moving. Today, in fact.”
Anna opened her mouth—but then Gage watched her shut it. Smart move. He wouldn’t have wanted to go up against Eloise.
Breakfast arrived, and Eloise downed bacon, eggs, and toast, urging Anna to do the same. “Eat early, not late. You know that rule, Anna.” She smiled at Gage—the flirtatious smile of a woman half her age—and smoothed a hand down a slim hip. “A woman needs a little extra something as she gets older. Now, Mr.…?”
“Leave my name out of it,” Gage said again.
“You’re invited to dinner. Saturday. Six sharp for cocktails.” Eloise turned to Anna. “Eat light that day. I’ll have Vincent cook your favorite—fried chicken.”
Anna rose. She’d put on jeans and a loose top in a bright color, but Gage could see the shadows under her eyes—olive smudges that makeup wouldn’t cover—and how she’d sat with her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She stood and went to the door. “Thank you, Eloise, for handling this.”
Eloise stood as well, smoothed her skirt, and walked to the door, where she paused, her back straight and her eyes narrowed. “You do know the authorities will want to speak to you. I’ll hold the press conference later today to give you a little time. My dear, do find some makeup before then. You look terrible.” She swept out.
Anna closed the door behind her and leaned on it. “I am so sorry.”
Gage pushed off the wall and smiled. “For what? She’s going to cover your ass, and mine if we need it. But I think we’d better head off the authorities before that press conference.”
He grabbed her and his phone, and they went downstairs. He hailed a cab at random, got Anna inside, and asked for the nearest police station. On the way, he went over what Anna should tell them: She went to her apartment yesterday. She found men there. “Stick to what is true—and what they need to know,” he told her. “The men came after you. You ran and hid with a friend.”
“And the rest?” Anna asked.
“What rest? That’s it. When you’re done, head east and meet me two blocks down the street.”
At the station, he let her go inside and then waited at a nearby hot dog stand. An hour later, Anna emerged, looking weary. She headed east as he’d told her. He looked to see whether anyone followed her. No one did. He stayed behind her, watching as she reached the corner where he’d asked her to meet him. Still no one following—no cars hanging around, no shadows.
When he was as satisfied as he could be that they weren’t being surveilled, Gage took her arm and they started walking.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice breathless from the fast pace he set.
He shook his head. He took a random path. Metro for part of it, taxi for another, walking for some. After they’d gone in circles a while, he gave Kyle a call.
Kyle answered on the first ring. “Come on over to Scotty’s spare.”
“I’ve got Anna with me.”
“That’s fine. We’ve got lunch.”
Scotty’s spare was a condo he kept in a secure building. It wasn’t under his name, so it would be difficult for anyone to trace. Gage took another two cabs and a detour through the Metro to get there.
“Why are we going in circles?” Anna asked.
“Better safe than sorry,” Gage said. He buzzed the condo from outside, got admitted to the building, and got the once-over from the doorman, who looked more like an MMA fighter.
They took the elevator up, and he noticed the cameras in the lobby, elevator car, and hallway. He hoped the feed wasn’t hooked to any sort of network. Security could work both ways—it could keep you safe, but it could also let others know where you were.
He stopped at Scotty’s door, which opened before he could knock. The smell of burgers and stale coffee hit him at once. The TV was on to a football game, the volume turned low.
