MORGAN HEADED BACK toward the mall, but a cordon of local police were controlling the entrance, guarding the first responders who were getting the wounded out. She fell back, using the anonymity of the crowd, pausing only to lift a cell phone from one of the unsuspecting gawkers.
She dialed Micah. He answered just as Jenna arrived, favoring Morgan with a death glare.
“Micah, ask Gibson if there are any more bombs,” she said, putting the phone on speaker and holding it so Jenna could hear above the sound of the crowd and the fire trucks.
“He says no.”
“What about at the arena?” Jenna put in.
There was another pause. “He says those are a diversion. Says the plan was for him and Clint to leave together, Clint was going to have Gibson wear the suicide vest in case anyone tried to stop them.”
A glimmer of hope crossed Jenna’s face. “So the vest was a fake?”
A longer pause. “No. He says it was real. Just in case Clint had to take someone inside the store hostage.”
“Right out of the Kroft brothers’ playbook,” Jenna muttered. “So he and Clint were going to escape in the SUV?”
“No.” This time it was Gibson’s voice. He sounded eager to help—made her wonder how Micah had accomplished that. But not too surprised. Micah was a good listener. “The SUV is rigged to blow. Clint’s plan was to kill one of the brothers in the explosion, the cops would think it was him, give us time to run.”
Morgan met Jenna’s gaze. “There’s another car.”
“There’s another car,” Jenna repeated the words as a prayer. She turned to the phone. “Gibson. What car did Clint take? Where would he go?”
“Silver Toyota. I don’t know where he’s headed.” Gibson’s tone turned spiteful. “But do me a favor, and when you find him, put a bullet through his head.”
Jenna clenched her jaw. “Micah, stay put. There’s going to be a lot of people who want to talk to you and Gibson. Just tell them what you told us.”
“Where are you and Morgan going?” Micah asked.
“Not sure yet, but we’ll let you know once we figure it out.” Jenna hung up before Morgan could say anything. “So. Where are we going?”
“You weren’t invited.” Last thing Morgan needed was Jenna slowing her down—or worse, rushing in and forcing Clint’s hand.
“Hell I wasn’t.”
Morgan didn’t have time for Jenna’s theatrics. “I can’t save Andre if I’m watching out for you as well.”
“Like I’d trust you to watch my back. Besides, this isn’t about you or me coming back alive. It’s about Andre. Period.”
“So if it comes down to a choice…” Morgan already knew who she’d choose, and she already knew who Jenna would choose. The hard one to convince would be Andre. His stubborn heroics were what had gotten them into this to start with. No matter that he’d been saving Morgan’s life at the time…in fact, that only made things worse. He was a good man, deserved so much better than what life had thrown at him—and yet, he’d been willing to sacrifice it all for her.
She couldn’t rest, not with that burden weighing her down. From the haunted look in Jenna’s eyes, Jenna felt the same.
“If it comes down to it, we knock him out, do what needs to be done, and drag him out of there. You good with that?” Jenna asked.
“Absolutely. Where’s your car?”
Jenna led her through the parking lot, skirting the crowd and the first responders. Straggling lines of cars converged at the main exits, people fleeing the scene and caught in a massive traffic jam. “Damn, this will take all night.”
“Follow me.” Morgan led the way on foot past the snarled traffic.
They crossed a strip of trees that separated the mall from one of the smaller shopping areas ringing it and then sprinted to the far side of the shopping center where there was a popular all night bowling pub. A few people stood outside, gawking at the lights and smoke, but no one was paying any attention to the cars.
Since she had none of her usual tools—including her phone with its universal electronic vehicle access program—their selection was limited. As Morgan decided on an older but well-maintained minivan, Jenna’s phone rang.
“It’s Andre,” she said eagerly. As if she thought Andre had overpowered Clint and escaped his custody. Morgan started to caution her, but too late, Jenna answered it. “Andre?”
“No, Jenna. I’m afraid Mr. Stone is a bit indisposed at the moment.”
“If you hurt him—” It was an empty threat and they all knew it.
Clint chuckled. “You have something I want, I have something you want. Let’s make a deal.” He said the last in the overblown tones of a game show host. “I’ll give you your precious Mr. Stone in exchange for a hundred thousand dollars and my daughter.”
“Done,” Jenna said before Morgan could protest. “When and where?”
“Midnight. Site of Morgan’s first kill. She’ll tell you how to get there.”