Deadfall by Anna Carey Read Free Book Online Page B

you . . . this is something different. Something bigger. Another man, this one younger, has stopped to talk to them. He takes out his phone, too. There are four of them now.
    You reach your hand into the pocket of your jeans, feeling the burner cell. If they know that Goss is in prison, they must know that you were the one who put him there. They might suspect you’ve tried to expose them. You think of theway Rafe ran right past the woman, how she saw him and kept going, choosing to close in on you. He would’ve been the easier target. She could’ve followed him into the park. She could’ve had the kill all to herself.
    You stare down at the group on the sidewalk as they disperse. They’re each scanning the crowd, watching the passing faces of strangers, checking the front windows of stores and restaurants. They haven’t stopped looking for you.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    BEN STARES OUT the window of the town car. He can’t see much from the 105, just the concrete Metrolink track above, and the other freeways in the distance, circling in on one another. The sun is blotted out by smog.
    “We’re going to the airport?” Ben asks. The driver is a gaunt middle-aged man. He doesn’t answer. He hasn’t said anything since they left the house.
    “It’s not like it’s that hard to figure out,” Ben says. “The 110 South, the 105 West. You’re taking me to LAX.”
    No response.
    He was told to pack a bag for three days. That was the only thing that made Ben feel better when the man showed up at seven this morning. They wouldn’t ask him to pack a bag if they were going to kill him.
    At least, he didn’t think so.
    He knew it was only going to be a matter of time before AAE showed up. As soon as Sunny left he was just waiting to see how they were going to deal with him. The contact at AAE had called him twice to ask where she was. Had he heard from her? Where was she when he last saw her? Ben had told them the truth, as much as he could tell—that she had come by his house. She’d seemed worried, preoccupied. He hadn’t heard from her since.
    The driver takes the Sepulveda exit. Ben almost comments on it, but decides not to. The only question now is where they’re flying him. For a brief second, he considers the possibility they’re bringing him somewhere for a hunt . . . that they might use him as another target. He wipes his palms on the front of his jeans. His hand is still sore from where Sunny slammed it in the door.
    The car makes a U-turn, passing the airport, and instead pulls into the In-N-Out. A teenager in a white hat and red apron takes orders from a line of cars snaking all the way to the street. The driver chooses a space at the end of the parking lot, next to a silver BMW. Ben checks for the license plate but there is none. Just a small black piece of paper that reads Glendale BMW .
    A man gets out of the Beamer and pulls open the back door, sliding in next to Ben on the leather seat. A blast of hot air comes in with him. It’s early October, but the day is scorching, almost one hundred and five degrees. When Ben looks at himthere’s a vague sense of recognition. The man is older now—thinning white hair and an extra ten pounds that can be seen in his face and neck, but Ben has met him before. He was a friend of Ben’s father.
    “Benjamin,” he says, “I haven’t seen you since you were ten. You were flying a remote-control helicopter in the backyard.”
    He puts his hand out for Ben to shake. “Isaac.”
    Ben remembers that helicopter. He can almost see Isaac sitting there with his parents in the kitchen that day. He reaches over and takes his hand, hating him already. What does he want? What will he have to do for them now?
    “That girl you were watching for AAE,” he says. “We’re concerned about her. She’s disappeared and I think they told you—she’s the niece of one of the executives.”
    Ben knows the story. It’s what they said when they first asked him to get to know her.