The Drafter

Seeing them, she excused herself from her guests, the group clearly from LA with their cool fa?ades. “Taf, a word,” she said in greeting, then turned to Peri. “You can sit if you want.”

 

 

“Why, thank you very much,” Peri said sarcastically, and Fran gave her a double glance, her expression inscrutable. Feeling as if she belonged, Peri eased down into the plush cushions of a chair with its back to the wall, where she could see everything. It was the nicest thing she’d sat in for three days, and she stretched her arms out along the back of it to make the space hers. From across the room, a man smiled and started over, but he jerked to a red-eared halt when the security men who had accompanied them in took up positions to either side of her.

 

“No sense of adventure,” she said around a sigh, then beamed at the servers offering her hors d’oeuvres. Happy, she heaped a little plate high. Mouth full of foie gras, she beckoned over the man with the champagne. “Thank you very, very much,” she said as she took a glass, and he inclined his head, eyes bright.

 

“Howard!” she called, seeing him at a window, looking like an awkward wallflower in his new suit and tie. His dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail, showing off the elegance of his face but still looking exotic. His face was damp from a quick shave. “You wash up good,” she said as he came over, giving her security a glance before gingerly sitting down in the chair beside her.

 

“I could say the same for you,” he answered, but his brow was pinched.

 

“What did you tell her?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

 

“Nothing you wouldn’t want me to.” His eyes were on Taf arguing with her mother. “I don’t know, Peri. Something doesn’t feel right. There’s too much talk going on.”

 

“Yeah. I’m smelling what we’re stepping in, too.” Peri settled back to wait, the rich food not sitting well. Everything was achingly, wonderfully familiar, but her intuition was telling her to leave. It was only her need for their help in freeing Silas that kept her unmoving. That, and Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber beside her.

 

“Taf, enough!” Fran said loudly, then forcibly eased her features into a pleasant expression. Taf, beside her, was pissed.

 

“They’re posting!” Fran called cheerfully. “Everyone to the windows!”

 

The excitement rose. Drinks were set down, and the little clusters of chatting people turned into a mob at the windows as personal space vanished in the thrill of the race.

 

Peri set her drink down, standing up as Fran strode to her. “I’ve got a moment. You, come with me,” Fran said brusquely. “Taf, you and Howard can watch the race.”

 

“I don’t want to watch the race,” Taf said, arms crossed over her middle.

 

Howard looked between the two women in unease. “Ah, if it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’d like to stay with Peri.”

 

Fran glanced at her security. Peri stiffened as adrenaline poured through the cracks of her conviction. “Watch the race,” Fran said tightly. “We’re just going into the kitchen.”

 

Peri eyed the swinging door the servers had been going in and out. Something has changed. “Go ahead, Howard. I’ll be okay,” she said, not liking the determined slant to his lips.

 

“There. See?” Fran said brightly, actually taking Peri’s elbow and turning her away. “Everything is fine.”

 

But it wasn’t fine, and the only reason Peri had agreed to leave the room was so that Howard and Taf would be out of the line of fire. “What do you have for me?” she asked as she followed Fran into the kitchen.

 

It was full of men with weapons.

 

Someone touched her, going down when Peri swiftly broke his wrist. Head swiveling, she fell into a ready stance, but it was too late as safeties clicked off. She could draft, but she might lose the last half hour—forever.

 

“Mother!” Taf exclaimed as she burst in behind them, and in that instant, Peri was wrestled to the ground, her air huffing out as her hands were painfully yanked behind her and secured with the smooth feel of plastic. Damn it all to hell.

 

“Where’s the audio binder?” Fran said tersely. “Well, get it on her. And the blindfold.”

 

Peri struggled as someone’s knee went to the small of her back. “I’m trying to help you!” she shouted, closing her eyes to block the grayish-purple color of the bag imprinting on her mind. But she gave up when a heavy hand pinned her face to the floor and a soft foam insert was jammed inexpertly into her ear. Her pulse hammered as an irritating whine filled half her hearing. It was over. She could close her eyes to block the color, but the precise hum of 741 MHz of sound could not be surmounted—and it worked instantaneously.

 

“Mom! What are you doing?” Taf said loudly.