Not Her Hero, page 8
Marc winced at the pride in Ray’s voice. Damn it, he should never have enlisted. If he hadn’t, he could have been there to steer Ray in the right direction. Never mind that he had no clue what he would have done with his own life; at least Ray would have stood a chance.
At least they wouldn’t be in their current predicament.
“All right, how do I get there from here?”
Whitney was the one who gave him directions, while Ray wanted to know why he was asking.
“Just covering all the bases. And…” He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. “Once your replacement sees you wrapping up your shift … I’m considering letting her go.”
He heard Whitney’s sharp intake of breath.
“What about us?” Ray asked.
He closed his eyes briefly. “We’re going on the run.” No idea where they’d go or even how they’d get there, but he’d figure it out. They’d get out of Michigan, get away from the Anarchy Boys, from their shitty lives, from the reminders of how fucked up their childhoods had been.
Putting all of that in the rearview mirror was the first—and most important—step.
“Right here,” Whitney said, and he pulled to the curb in front of an alley that was completely devoid of anything at all except shadows cast by streetlamps barely penetrating the darkness.
“Stay in the car,” Marc said, and he hopped out and slipped into the alley, listening intently for any indication that someone else might be out here with them. All he heard was the scurry of feet far too small to be human.
All he saw was nothing at all. Not a vehicle, not a purse nor a phone, not even the top of a lipstick case that might have rolled out of her bag in whatever scuffle probably occurred when Ray was trying to secure her wrists.
If he had a black light, he would bet it would show nothing at all. The place had been wiped clean. This wasn’t the act of a vagrant who happened to have gotten lucky by stumbling across a wallet with cash in it.
Somebody else knew the governor was missing.
Were the Anarchy Boys truly this organized? They’d never given any indication they could pull off something like this; then again, pretending otherwise would only play in their favor. And they had managed to get Ray into the Michigan State Police Academy, had ensured he’d graduated—all without Marc being aware, by the way—and with high enough honors to gain a spot on the team responsible for protecting the governor.
“Shit,” he said after he slid back into the driver’s seat.
“What?” Whitney asked.
“The Anarchy Boys are more dangerous than I thought.” He waved at the pristine alley. “They cleaned up after Ray.”
“Are you sure it’s them? I find it hard to believe they could have gotten away with that without someone noticing, no matter what time of day or night.”
“Who else would have done this cleanup?”
“My head of security,” she said immediately. “Brent is brilliant. And his skills are terribly underutilized, since nothing like this has ever happened to me before. But knowing him, he’d want to keep this under wraps as long as possible if only because he’s probably embarrassed that it happened on his watch.”
Marc let his head fall against the headrest. “This means we can’t let Ray pretend to be finishing up his shift at eight. They’ll arrest him on the spot.”
A flash of a light in the side mirror drew his attention. A moment later, the light disappeared. It was the middle of the night in the business district of the capital, well after bar hours and before the average person would even think about rolling out of bed.
And then the hulking, dark shadow of an SUV with all the lights off came into view at the intersection directly behind them.
“We have company,” he said, still watching the mirror. The vehicle looked like every government-issue SUV out there, which meant it was probably her head of security. The governor was about to be rescued.
Marc and Ray were well and truly fucked.
Unless they took off and left her alone in the Land Rover. There wasn’t time to wipe their prints, so even if she did not implicate them, their identities would be known as quickly as a forensics team could get down here.
Probably made more sense to leave her standing on the sidewalk and they take off in the stolen vehicle. That would at least buy them some time. Even then, their chances of getting out of town without getting caught were next to nil.
But they weren’t zero.
Staying here and waiting for that SUV to inch closer spelled definite jail time for both him and Ray.
He hated to leave Whitney alone, but protecting his brother took precedence. Besides, she’d be fine. She’d be alone for less than a minute, until her security team got to her and tucked her under their protective wing. The poor woman would be lucky to get to go to the bathroom alone after this incident.
But at least she’d be safe.
He reached for the ignition, his eyes still on the side mirror. “Does that look like your head of security?”
She twisted, watching over her shoulder. “I can’t see the driver because the windows are blacked out, but that looks exactly like every SUV I’ve ever been in since I became governor.”
“Good.” And bad. “Whitney, you’re about to get out of the car, and then we’re going to bolt.”
He glanced over, caught her eye. After the briefest pause, she reached out, touched his shirtsleeve. After another hesitation, she pulled her hand away and curled it against her chest, nodding.
The passenger side door of that other SUV opened. Marc’s muscles tensed. Every instinct was screaming at him not to leave her here. Probably his crush talking. Yeah, that had to be it. He was falling for the governor, and that’s why he didn’t want to let her go.
Stupid of him to fall, but it also explained why he was feeling this way.
Because there was no way anyone but her security team would have pulled up to this particular location in town at three in the morning with no lights on.
The Anarchy Boys believed Marc and Ray and the governor were on foot; it was too much of a stretch for them to have already figured out that the governor was back in the capital.
Everyone else in the state, if they were even thinking about her at all, was assuming she was tucked into bed, soundly sleeping.
“You’re right,” Ray suddenly blurted.
Marc jerked his head around, furrowing his brow.
Ray shook his head. “There’s no way I could have gotten through the MSP academy. And I sure as hell couldn’t have gotten myself assigned to protect the governor.”
“Son of a—”
Whitney snatched her fingers away from the door handle.
“He had help from the inside,” Marc practically growled, mashing the button to start the engine. Grabbing the shifter, he jerked it into drive and pressed the gas.
And slammed into another vehicle.
His seat belt kept him from flying forward to meet the dash, but Whitney was in the process of buckling hers. She lurched forward, crying out as her shoulder forcibly met the dash. Looked like they now had matching injuries.
“Are you okay?” he demanded, pushing her back against the seat so he could scan her person, make sure she wasn’t bleeding.
When Whitney nodded, he bit out, “What the actual fuck?” as he whipped his head around to glare out the windshield at a big black SUV with its front end kissing the Land Rover. Where the hell had that vehicle come from?
A quick glance in the side mirror revealed the other SUV, still parked at the corner behind them.
Shit. “Go. Into the alley,” he yelled at Ray and Whitney. “Now, now, now, now!”
Whitney dove out of the vehicle, and he crawled out of her door after her instead of wasting precious seconds hurrying around from the driver’s side. Ray, he noted, had followed directions, too, and was running with Whitney into the mouth of the alley.
“Keep going,” he shouted as he chased after them. “Hang a left at the end.” That should dump them out onto the road that ran along the front of the capitol building.
He heard the pounding of footfalls and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Two men, in black from head to toe, were bearing down on him.
He slowed his pace marginally to let them believe they were catching up to him of their own accord, and then, at the last possible second, he abruptly stopped and jabbed his elbow backward, catching one of them in the gut. Twisting to the left, he reached out, fisted the other guy’s shirt, and slammed his head against the brick wall. When the first guy rolled onto his knees, Marc delivered a kick to his midsection that sent him crashing to the ground again.
Rolling his bruised shoulder, Marc took a quick scan of his surroundings and noted the absence of the sound of boots hitting the pavement. No one else was following them on foot, so he bolted, hurrying to catch up to Ray and Whitney.
But when he got to the turn at the end of the alley, they were nowhere to be found, and he didn’t hear any sounds to indicate they were still running nearby.
Oh fuck, no, no, no! He rushed to the end of the alley and, keeping to the shadows, peeked out. The undamaged SUV was inching down the street, still with the lights out. Marc jerked his head back and pressed against the damp, cool bricks, holding his breath until the vehicle rolled past.
And then he waited another few moments, listening intently, until the sound of crunching rocks and tires slowly rolling along cement faded.
Hooking a right, he hurried down the sidewalk, keeping close to the pillars jutting out from the building next to him, trying to get back to the Land Rover. Hopefully, it was still drivable, and hopefully, he could catch up to that SUV that had just left. Ray and Whitney had to be in it. They must have been nabbed before Marc could get to the end of the alley.
“Marc!”
He whipped his head to the side. Whitney waved at him from behind one of those thick, white pillars.
His heart damn near dove into his throat as he strode toward her. Yeah, she was the governor, not his friend—or anything more—but fuck it, he was too freaking relieved not to pull her into a hug, wrap his arms around her body, and bury his face in her apple- and cinnamon-scented hair.
Her arms slowly slid around his waist, and his heart kicked up a notch again. Christ, how much excitement could that organ take before it gave out on him?
Clearing her throat, Whitney stepped backward, seeming reluctant, and he even more reluctantly let her go.
The reality of the situation returned with a rush. He noted that Ray was standing behind that pillar, too, his wide, glazed eyes giving away his fear. Marc dropped a hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. Maybe the kid was finally figuring out that joining forces with a bunch of clearly dangerous thugs was not the way to make up for his shitty upbringing.
“We need to find somewhere to hide. Is there a residential area nearby?” It was risky, with all the motion sensor lights and doorbell cams nowadays, but trying to find an unlocked garage or shed to hide in seemed far less dangerous right now than wandering the streets. They needed a minute to regroup, to figure out what the hell to do next.
“Yes. North of the capitol.” Whitney pointed to the right. “Only a couple of blocks. Come on.”
She started to walk that way, and he snagged her arm and pulled her to his side. They reached the intersection with the street where they’d left their vehicle, and Marc motioned for Whitney and Ray to get behind him while he inched closer and slowly leaned toward to the corner until he could see around it.
The street was empty. No accident, no guys dressed in all black snooping around looking for them. Not a fucking piece of plastic from the busted headlights lying on the pavement.
He’d bet if he ran back to the alley, it would be empty too.
He caught the flash of brake lights and glanced up the street in time to see a tow truck turn the corner, several blocks down.
The Land Rover was hooked to the back.
What the hell? Who the fuck were they dealing with? Were the Anarchy Boys really that goddamned sophisticated?
They’d infiltrated the Michigan State Police ranks, so yeah, they clearly were. Those guys had done such a good job of convincing the world that they were a loosely organized group that even the fucking state police had let down their defenses.
“Come on,” he said. They needed to get the hell out of this area as quickly as possible.
The three of them jogged across the street and continued north, until they were walking along a block lined with nothing but churches.
“That way,” Whitney said, pointing.
“Change of plans.” He veered to the right, ran up the steps of the nearest building, and tugged at the door handle.
Locked.
He could feel Whitney and Ray’s eyes on him as he bounced from door to door, church to church, until finally, one of them unlatched.
He grinned and beckoned them inside. “Even in today’s day and age,” he said, “there are still some churches that believe in an open-door policy.”
“More likely, someone forgot to lock it before they left for the night,” Whitney said cheekily as she breezed past.
He chuckled, the sound echoing in the dark, cool space.
Ray wandered up to the altar. Whitney hovered near Marc’s six while he stood there, watching, until he was reasonably confident his brother wasn’t going anywhere.
Stepping out of the sanctuary, Marc walked the perimeter of the building, checking to see if anyone else was in here with them. Whitney trailed him, and they eventually ended up in a cozy room with couches and plush chairs, which he guessed was where the minister and altar helpers hung out before services. Snagging bottled water from the minifridge parked against the far wall, he passed one to Whitney before opening the other and draining it.
He considered backtracking to let Ray know where they were, but this place wasn’t that big. All Ray had to do was cut through that courtyard in the middle and he’d find them.
Whitney dropped onto a not-too-uncomfortable couch, and Marc sat next to her, close but not too close. He was still jazzed over that hug. Even under these fucked up circumstances, his brain wanted to know what it meant. Where they’d go from here—assuming they made it out alive.
It was crazy to even think like that. She was the goddamned governor, and he was, well, a nobody.
“What did you do when you were in the army?” Whitney asked, cutting through his ridiculous, self-inflicted mindfuck.
He rested his head against the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “Special Forces,” he finally admitted, glad for the distraction.
“I had a feeling. My dad was an instructor at Camp Grayling. Anytime he came across someone with your talent, he’d recommend them for Special Forces.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.
“What is our next move?” she asked after a few moments of silence.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Knowing your security team has been infiltrated by the Anarchy Boys is a game-changer.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“But”—he lifted his pointer finger—“it could also be our saving grace.”
“How so?”
Marc caught her eye and held it.
“Ray now has a bargaining chip that can hopefully keep him out of jail.”
10
“Do you like it?” Marc asked as they made their way back to the sanctuary to tell Ray the plan.
“What? Being in politics?” Whitney responded.
“Well, specifically being governor, but yeah, I guess politics in general.”
“The answer is complicated.”
He arched his brows.
She sighed. “I dove into politics with all the gusto I could gather and the rosiest-colored glasses I had.”
He laughed. Lord, she liked his laugh.
Would they ever talk again after this was all over? She supposed it was likely they’d see each other again; no doubt he would have to testify. She had every intention of doing whatever was necessary to ensure he was not implicated in any of this, even stealing that Land Rover, but eventually, all the dust would settle and she’d resume her duties and he’d go back to his life. Their worlds would likely never overlap again.
“And?” he said, reminding her that she hadn’t answered his question.
“And I thought I could change the world, or at least this mitten-shaped part of it. But the reality is, politicians aren’t the ones who can make the kind of changes I envisioned.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means, I’m considering not running for a second term. I’m thinking about finding a nonprofit organization I strongly believe in and convincing them to give me a job. And then hopefully, I will finally be able to make that difference I’ve spent the last two and a half years wishing I were making.”
He whistled. “I believe you will do it, too.”
She grinned. “Thanks. First, I have to figure out how to let down my supporters gently. It will not be easy to step down. But I’ll figure it out. What about you? I just realized I don’t even know what you do for a living.”
“My answer’s not complicated at all: nothing.”
“You don’t work?” Every person she’d ever known who left the military before true retirement age went to work in the private sector, generally out of necessity. Protecting one’s country was not the highest paying career in the world.
“I haven’t found a job,” he corrected.
“Oh. How long have you been out?”
“Since last October, so eight months. I’d probably have better luck if I moved down to Detroit or even Grand Rapids, where there are more jobs, but the reason I got out was to try to save Ray from…” He waved at the sanctuary doors.
“The Anarchy Boys,” Whitney whispered. The various bits and pieces she’d learned from the two of them were all coming together to form a rather depressing puzzle. “You feel like it’s your fault he ended up where he is.”
He lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “He has no one, and he isn’t a stubborn ass like I am. I kept pushing them away because I didn’t agree with all the shit they believe in, where Ray has been begging them to let him join their ranks just so he can feel like he belongs somewhere. Their cause isn’t even a factor in his mind.”
