The masked man sighs, puffing out the face of his mask a little.
“My dear, I am not so amateurish as to move against you unless he has already been found. I have been watching him since he arrived. Did he tell you why he is hunted?”
“Yes.”
The masked man nods slowly and rubs the fingers of his upraised hands together.
“You sound less disturbed than I had expected. A rare woman you must be. Did he tell them?”
I give Karen a nervous glance.
“I thought not. Always a sentimental one, my Quentin. I should have dealt with his weakness with greater strength, but alas I myself am human, despite all the rumors to the contrary. I had a soft spot for Quentin once.”
Karen squeezes my hand.
I can’t think of a way out of this. If I even move too fast, an unseen gunman will put a bullet in my chest and this creature will be free to do whatever he wants to my girls.
As if he isn’t already, Rose.
Where are you, Quentin?
“He will come for you,” the masked man says. “Gripped by some delusion, he will come and, thinking himself the hero, try to ‘save’ you. He was also so concerned with ‘innocent’ life. I tried to teach him the truth: no one is innocent. Evidently he didn’t listen.”
“He doesn’t care about us.” I squeeze Karen’s hand harder. “Or me. He had his fun and dumped me. He won’t come back.”
“That is unfortunate for you, since I have already sent him an ultimatum in a place he is sure to find. I made a promise, and Santiago de la Rosa is a man of his word.”
He lifts his hand and peels back his coat sleeve to check his watch.
“Time is at hand. Now, we are leaving. I will give you simple instructions. You will walk outside and get in the vehicle. If you make any attempt to run, raise the alarm, or draw attention to yourself, you will be shot in the head. Is this clear to you?”
I nod.
“Good. Front door, to the car in the driveway. Go.”
I stand up, holding the girls’ hands. I have to drag Karen to her feet before she starts moving, practically clinging to me. I slowly walk to the front door, turn the knob, and step out. The sunlight stings my eyes.
The street is utterly deserted. There’s barely any sound other than the soft rumble of the big SUV sitting in my driveway. A tall, thin man in sunglasses is holding the back door open. Deep breath, and I gently push the girls in first then climb in after them and sit in the middle of the bench seat between them.
The door closes, and the other side opens. The man in the mask steps inside and sits in the seat in front of us, facing us, like a limo. He reaches into his coat, draws out a pistol with a long, fat tube on the barrel and rests it on his leg then reaches back and raps on the glass partition with his knuckles. I can’t see the driver.
Think, Rose. There’s a way out of this, an angle you’re not seeing.
“Where are we going?”
The masked man looks up, or at least his head lifts.
“Yes, I should have known you’d ask questions. It doesn’t matter. I’m taking you to a place of certain importance to recent events. Did Quentin tell you why he was forced to come here?”
“Yes.”
I glance at the girls and tighten my grip on their hands. They don’t need to hear that story.
“I would take you to the target’s house, but our dear Quentin burned it down. I will instead take you to one of his working facilities. That will, I think, be more appropriate.”
“Working facilities?”
“Patience, my sweet, thorny Rose. You shall see. In fact you shall become quite acquainted with it.”
Oh God.
I pull my girls close and stare at the floor, trying not to draw his attention. He holds the gun in a loose grip, his finger resting near the trigger. It’s pointed at the door now but he could have it pointed at me, or worse, one of my daughters, with a flick of his wrist.
I could try getting it away from him. I’m not tied down.
“I know what you are thinking,” he says in a bored voice. “It is a terrible idea. There are three of you. I can lose one before we reach the grand finale.”
I settle back into the seat.
“How do you know he’ll get your message?”
“I know where he’ll go when he’s put to flight. I know his ground. The rabbit will run into my snare, and he will put his head in the noose of his own volition. It was valiant to try and lie to me on his behalf but I have known Quentin Mulqueen since he was twelve years old. You cannot think you know his heart better than I. He loses his head for women. You are not the first.”
I feel a little sting there. Then I remind myself he wasn’t my first either. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that we get out of this and get away from this lunatic.