The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland Book 2) Page 2

  Surprised? Yes. Happy? He should be.

  Her chuckle was flat and vanished in the scream of a child a few tables over. “You still know the right things to say to a girl.”

  “I thought I’d save the alpha-aggressive pickup line a little longer this time.” He settled his palm on the table, cringed at the faint tacky sensation, and pulled his hand away again. The place was as charming as ever.

  Though the scents of grease and burgers did make his stomach growl, and reminded him breakfast was a pack of mini-donuts from a gas station two-hundred miles south of here.

  She took a long swallow of coffee. “You’re not supposed to find me yet.”

  “Do you want me to go out and come back in? Give you fifteen minutes?” Despite the tension running through the conversation, he didn’t want to leave. The challenge was as intriguing as the question he wanted her to answer.

  “That’d be great...” Her gaze shot toward the entrance, and her back went ramrod straight.

  He followed her line of sight. “You need to learn to hide your tension better.” His gut soured when he saw what she had, but he kept it from his face. Dormouse. And someone he didn’t recognize. A guy in his early twenties, who wore a tailored suit, shoes polished to the point they reflected his pinstripes, and a nose piercing.

  “I’m not taking advice from you on blending in.” Alice slid her fork under the table.

  The new arrivals stood near the entrance, staring back, faces hard.

  Blake hovered his hand near the holster on his right hip. He didn’t want to open fire in here. “I’m guessing you didn’t invite Dormouse.”

  “She’s Queen of Hearts, now,” Alice said.

  He raised his brows, attention never leaving Jabberwock’s people. “Alice. Jabberwock. Queen. Everyone has new names now. How clever.”

  “That’s what I said. Does this mean you’re going back to being Hatter?” Alice’s laugh was more genuine this time. Disconcerting, given the circumstances.

  The hostess showed Dor—Queen and her companion to a booth. Queen’s stare never wavered.

  “We need to get out.” Blake was familiar with the layout of the place, and he’d made Alice memorize it last time they were here. The back hallway led toward the restrooms, then cut through the back corner of the kitchen.

  Alice’s leg tensed against his. “My car is by the rear exit.” What was she up to?

  “She won’t open fire. Not in here.” Never draw unwanted attention. That was one of the key things drilled into Blake’s head while he worked for Jabberwock.

  “Things have changed,” Alice said.

  “Not this.”

  Queen’s companion drew a pistol, as if taunting Blake. Blake grabbed Alice’s arm and yanked her down a second before a gunshot ricocheted through the diner and plaster exploded over their heads.

  He shoved her toward the exit. “Go. Right behind you.”

  Screams overlapped his words. The chaotic mix of people running, ducking, and staring provided the mess Blake and Alice needed, to duck outside.

  It was a quick sprint to the exit, but Alice pulled up short the moment she burst through the back door, and Blake had to stumble or risk colliding with her.

  Queen was waiting.

  “See?” Alice asked. “Gunfire.”

  This hardly seemed like the time. “I stand corrected.”

  Queen rolled her eyes, making him think she felt the same. She looked at Blake. “Sorry about Knave. He’s got an itchy finger.”

  Great. Now they were being polite.

  Alice launched herself into a spinning kick and landed more than a foot from the other woman.

  “What the fuck was that?” Queen asked.

  Blake tensed, looking for the perfect opening. That flash of distraction. If it appeared, it wouldn’t be for long.

  Alice shrugged. “That was disappointing. I’m demanding my money back—”

  Blake sidestepped the Queen and landed his elbow in her windpipe.

  “—for those Kung Fu lessons.” Alice sprinted away from the gasping woman and toward a Ford Taurus.

  She had the engine running and car in gear when Blake slid into the passenger seat.

  He risked another look at her, surrealness mingling with the adrenaline rushing through him. She’d changed so much, but she was still Alice. It was stunning and terrifying.

  She navigated toward the neighborhood streets instead of the main roads, taking twists and turns without hesitation. She reached an intersection that indicated one direction was the interstate and the other led to a dead end.

  Blake’s stomach dropped into his shoes when she turned toward the No Outlet sign. “Alice?”

  She downshifted, keeping the car at a high RPM. “I’ve spent a lot of our time apart not being spotted. You’ve spent the same window flitting between here, Arizona, and Nashville, with occasional trips to Rome. I know my way out of this neighborhood.”

  He had no idea how his activities were related to her knowledge of the roads, but he bit his tongue about any more navigation choices.

  A moment later, she turned into a parking lot, hopped a low curb at the other side, and merged into traffic heading onto the freeway.

  “You weren’t supposed to find me yet.” She reached cruising speed in a matter of seconds and wove through traffic swiftly and smoothly.

  “So you mentioned.” They were going to have this conversation now? While there might or might not be someone pursing them? “You weren’t supposed to leave me.”

  “You spent two weeks lying to me.” She spoke through clenched teeth. Every few seconds, her gaze twisted to each mirror in turn before falling back on the road.

  “Because I didn’t have a chance to explain.” It sounded like a weak excuse now. He could have found time to say something. “You kept your secrets.”

  “To save my life. And it was a secret. Singular.”

  “Technically, the most important fucking thing you could have known.” He bit the inside of his cheek, to keep his anger from rising. He wasn’t mad at her; her reasons were solid. He was furious at himself, for missing so many truths back then.

  She cut across three lanes of traffic, amid the blare of horns, took the next exit, and pulled into a gas station. “I disagree. He was a threat regardless of his identity, and your knowing didn’t change your actions.” She shut off the engine and stepped from the car.

  He did the same, looking around to determine what next.

  “Catch.” She tossed him a set of car keys the moment he spun. “It’s the white Corolla. You drive.” She walked away from the Taurus, leaving the keys on the front seat.

  Any other day, under any other circumstances, he’d get her door. Right now, it seemed low priority. “You know I’m not some super-highly-trained car-chase expert, like in the movies.”

  “I figured. But you typically have good situational awareness, and I need to figure out where I’m going next, since my current plan is fucked up. And I need to send a text.”

  “To whom?”

  She looked at him over the roof of the car. “You and I don’t have the kind of relationship where I give you that information. How about this? It’s not someone who’s a threat to you.”

  That would have to do for now. How had she changed so much, in such a short amount of time? And was there enough of the free-spirited Reagan in her that she’d come out of this situation and still remember who she used to be?

  Chapter Four

  Police seek man for questioning in diner shoot-out.

  The headline scrolled across the bottom of the cable news-channel’s feed.

  The wheeled office chair Sawyer sat in creaked when he leaned back. Scrubbing his face, he exhaled nosily through his fingers. When he straightened again, the breaking news hadn’t changed. A variety of camera angles flashed on screen, each featuring the diner where Queen and Knave were supposed to find Alice.

  Several grainier shots of Knave mixed with the high-quality footage. Cell-phon
e videos of the man who opened fire in a crowded Salt Lake City restaurant.

  The scents of jet fuel and asphalt mingled with Sawyer’s growing fury. He needed to be back home, rather than at the windowed office of a private runway, so he could lock himself in the basement and go a few rounds with the seventy-five pound body bag.

  His phone buzzed. An encoded message from Queen.

  We’re here.

  Good. He stood, smoothed out his suit, and picked a ball of white fuzz from his jacket sleeve. When he was certain the ice on the surface hid the fire raging underneath, he stepped into the hanger.

  November air gusted through the vast space, but it didn’t cool him. A moment later, Queen and Knave walked through a door a few feet away.

  Queen—Lisa—held herself straight and tall, expression impassive. Exactly what Sawyer expected from his oldest friend. She might let the mask slip sometimes, in private, but she had the most impressive poker face he’d ever seen.

  Knave wouldn’t look him in the eye. His hand kept twitching toward the inside of his jacket, which Sawyer noticed was lacking a holster or gun. Lisa had already disarmed him and—knowing her—disposed of the weapon.

  When they were a few feet away, Sawyer spoke. “You were there to do observation.” He kept his tone low and even, and his gaze on Knave. “Ob-ser-vay-shun. Do you need me to define that?”

  “No, sir.” Queen stood with her back ramrod straight, feet shoulder width apart, and hands clasped behind her, like a soldier at ease, waiting for her next command. The deference was for show; she always adopted it in public. Another reason he trusted her to keep his secrets.

  “Then why is Knave the hottest thing on cable news?” It was a rhetorical question. Knave was incapable of holding out when it was required. Why the fuck didn’t Sawyer send someone else to keep an eye on Alice? “She bolted. Didn’t she? Took one look at you and ran?”

  “Correct.” Queen bit off the word.

  The low burn inside Sawyer grew, the longer he thought about the monumental fuck-up of the situation. “We finally had her, and she fled.”

  Knave stepped toward him but stopped short when Sawyer raised his brows. “She wasn’t alone.” A thread of indignation ran through Knave’s retort. “I thought we’d kill two birds—”

  “You’re not supposed to kill any birds.” Sawyer’s voice echoed off the metal siding of the vast room. “Who was she with?”

  “That’s why I shot. She was with Hatter, and I know you want him out of the picture.”

  Sawyer let out a long hiss, counting to ten and forcing the calm through his veins. “I want him in the picture—as in shackled and standing about where you are.” His phone buzzed. “Excuse me.” He swiped Answer and turned away to speak into the phone. “Yes?” He wasn’t worried about having his back to the trigger-happy Knave. Not with Lisa behind him.

  “After today’s news, we’ve decided to go with another negotiator,” a voice, masked by a synthesizer, said.

  If the inferno inside grew any hotter, Sawyer was going to burst. “I understand. You do what you must. Cheshire Cat?”

  “Not that it matters, but yes. We won’t be in touch again.” The line went dead.

  “Fuuuuuck.” Sawyer flung his phone at the concrete, and it shattered at his feet and scattered in a dozen pieces. He’d been in the middle of a different conversation. He turned back to Knave. “The man’s name is Blake. You betray the post, I retire the fucking title. You, for instance.”

  Knave sneered. “I didn’t betray you; I’m not stupid.”

  Sawyer glanced at Queen, who gave a nod so slight, she might have been her shifting her weight. He turned away as the ear-splitting crack of a gunshot filled the air.

  And that was the real reason he called her Queen of Hearts now. The woman was an effective fucking executioner. “You coming?” he called as he strode toward the jet waiting on the runway.

  “Of course.” She fell into step next to him, phone in hand. She raised the device to her ear and spoke. “We need a clean-up crew. Standard hanger. Airport Two... That’s correct... Thank you.”

  Efficient all around.

  Without the walls to block the gusts of incoming storm, the cold bit through his jacket and slacks. He let the weather drag away the cloud of irrationality that threatened him, as he climbed the steps to the plane.

  The scent of sanitized-everything helped draw more of the flames from his mind. As he settled into his seat, soft leather molding to his body, he grasped calm and focused on it.

  Lisa took the spot across from him, and they prepared for takeoff. She didn’t say anything, and he was grateful for the silence as the plane taxied. He fell into the vibrations of wheels on the runway, then the drop of his stomach as they left the ground.

  He looked at her. “Do we have a bead on Alice again?”

  “No. The tracking signal is still coming from the diner.”

  “She wanted us to find her.” He spoke to himself as much as to Lisa.

  She scowled. “You don’t know that.”

  It made sense, though. “She didn’t discover the tracking device after the shooting started. Did she leave her purse behind?”

  “No.”

  “It wasn’t a coincidence she was in that place, with Blake. She knew she was being tracked before she arrived.”

  Lisa stood and took a few short steps to reach the mini fridge and bar, hidden behind wood paneling at the back of the passenger cabin. “Maybe. Drink?”

  She’d never made it a secret that she thought he gave Alice too much credit, but Alice had successfully hidden from Sawyer until she wanted to be seen. Maybe she wasn’t that clever, but he had to be cautious.

  “I’m good,” he said.

  Lisa dropped into her seat again, holding a glass with ice and what he assumed was Diet Dr. Pepper. The only time she dropped the ice-queen mask was when she and Sawyer were alone. Then again, he’d reached that same point. “What now?” she asked.

  “Business as usual, including continuing to look for Alice.”

  She raised her brows. “Because that’s worked so well for us so far.” Sarcasm sliced her words.

  Sawyer was unconcerned. “Five hundred bucks says she’ll seek me out again soon.”

  “I’m not taking that bet.”

  He smirked. “Because you know I’m right.”

  Chapter Five

  Alice fitted a key into a tarnished doorknob, wiggled it a few times, and turned. She pushed open the motel room door. “Welcome to my temporary home.”

  “Here?” Blake stepped inside, and she followed, locked, and latched up behind them. If he reached out from here, he’d touch the bed. A few steps past that, and he’d run into the far wall.

  She tossed her wristlet on the bed. “Don’t knock the accommodations. They take cash, and their guest registrations are paper, not digital.”

  “It’s not that. God knows I’m not picky. But I didn’t think you’d ever lock yourself in a cramped room again.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and the browns of the comforter crinkled around her, merging into a nauseating array of blandness. “The important part of that statement being yourself. I’m here because I chose to be; I hold the key. Besides...” She shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  The heat kicked on, blowing a gust of what smelled like burning dust through the room. He studied her as she examined her feet. “Alice.”

  “Please don’t.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. “Yes, it’s the name I give most people now, but I can’t. Not from you. I need— Call me Reagan, please.” Despite the firm tone, a tremor of hurt ran through her voice. Her expression slipped for a blink, the lines around her mouth softening, before her mask slid back into place.

  What did she mean, not from you? “All right. Reagan it is.” Was there a way to get rid of that ache, but still bring back the rest of the old her?

  She sighed. “I was going to say, as far as the room, the two-hun
dred dollars I took from you didn’t go far, and I’ve learned there are a lot worse places to sleep than a small motel suite or even an interrogation cell.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She summoned a smile bright enough, it almost chased away the tinge of gray that clung to everything in the room. “You tried to help me. You lied in the process, but you tried.” A shudder raked over her. “Anyway. It’s in the past. How did you know where I was going to be today?”

  He pulled out the chair next to the desk, spun it, and managed to maneuver it to where he could sit without brushing his knees against hers. “I’d like to say something clever about following the clues or Jabberwock’s people. Really, I got lucky. A friend picked up your image in Las Vegas, and I hoped you’d touch base at home if you came out of hiding. I was only at the diner because that’s the street I turned down when I got into town. I guess my subconscious wanted to go back to where we got to know each other.”

  “Except for that bit where you lied about who you were.”

  “And you know why I did that.” It was going to be a long time before he lived down the secrets he’d kept from her.

  “I do know why. Do you understand why I left like I did?”

  No. But he did know. He’d waited all this time to see her, telling himself the only reason was because he wanted to ask her why? But he had that answer already.

  After what she’d gone through—her professor’s death at the hands of the people he worked for, the lies that kept her tossed back and forth like a chess piece rather than a person, the various flavors of psychological torment she was subjected to... And he was associated with all of it. Worse—when he had a chance to come clean, he didn’t.

  “Yeah. I do understand. I missed you.” The second thought wasn’t related at all to the first, except that he’d never admitted either to himself before.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and her scowl melted into mischievousness. “You missed the sex.” She straddled his legs and draped her arms over his shoulders.

  “Reagan.” The rest of his protest blurred into the back of his mind when she shifted in his lap.