The figure in the passenger seat turned and flipped on the overhead courtesy light.
"Finally awake, I see." His expression wasn't exactly welcoming. "I'm not in the mood for you now."
"Sorry."
Something about his face… changed, and yet the same… more than the start of a mustache… somehow he looked younger… softer… sexier.
Sexier? Mr. Osala? Sexy was so not the word she'd ever have associated with him, but looking at him now caused a stir within.
"Do you see now why I wanted you to stay off the streets and out of sight?"
She nodded meekly. "Yes."
"I'm sure you thought I was being overprotective and exaggerating the risk. But I've been proven right, haven't I? Consider what has happened to you since you escaped Henry. You have been living a nightmare, am I correct?"
Dawn bowed her head. Had she ever.
"Totally."
"Home, Georges," he said.
That reminded her. She looked up. "Where… where's Henry?"
"Henry has been… sacked. Discharged for dereliction of duty."
"But it was totally my fault. I—"
"No"—his voice turned to ice, taking on a tone that pressed her back into her seat—"it was not. He made choices. Bad ones. You will never see him again." His tone softened, just barely. "You almost had the baby aborted, didn't you."
The car glided uptown.
He wasn't asking a question. Obviously he knew the answer, so she simply nodded.
"Do you realize that you might very well be dead now if you'd succeeded? You'd have been no further use to Bethlehem and he would have killed you."
"I never saw him."
"Then he would have ordered you killed. And his equally vicious and deranged brother would have done it."
Speaking of deranged…
"Who were those monks and why did they kidnap me? I totally thought you'd sent them to rescue me."
A cold smile flickered. "Me? Send them? I hardly think so."
"But how did you get me out?"
"Bethlehem's people came to steal you back, and while they were all otherwise engaged, I simply carried you to my car and we drove away. Isn't that right, Georges."
"Correct, Master."
Master, she thought. Here we go again.
"Was Jerry there?"
Mr. Osala shook his head. "Unfortunately not. A fair number of his brother's followers were killed, but he was not among them. You can read the details in the paper tomorrow."
"But what were you doing on the roof of the car?"
He reached up and turned out the courtesy light. "Be still now. I wish to be alone with my thoughts."
He turned and stared out the windshield as the car moved uptown.
Dawn hugged her arms around her. Back to Mr. Osala's penthouse. Another sort of prison, but at least it was safe.
And safety had a lot going for it right now.
Still.
Jack lifted his head and looked around. The wind had died and the night was brighter. Stars shone and the cloud was gone as if it had never been.
His left fingers felt wet. He looked and saw that a pool of blood from the dead shoten's throat had spread to his hand. He struggled to his knees and waited until the roof steadied and the stars stopped spinning. Then he wiped his fingers on the dead man's pants leg, and did the same with the sword.
He forced himself to his feet and sheathed the blade. As he staggered toward the roof exit he picked up his Glock and Kel-Tec.
Had to get downstairs and find Dawn, then get the hell out of this building.
He made it to the first floor, almost falling a couple of times along the way. The first sign of life he saw was the two pseudoguards in the front foyer. They looked dead at first, then he saw their chests move. Alive, but barely.
Why was he up and about? Less exposure?
Whatever. They'd stashed Dawn in the basement before, so that was probably where they had her now. Trouble was, how was he going to get her out? If she was in any shape similar to those two in the foyer, he was going to have to carry her, and he could barely stand.
As he approached the basement door it opened. He stopped, pulled his Glock, and waited.
For a few heartbeats, nothing happened. And then a shaggy, bandaged head appeared near the bottom of the opening, gradually followed by the rest of a Kicker crawling out on his hands and knees.
Jack put a foot on his back and pushed him down.
"Hey!" His voice was barely audible.
"Where's the girl?"
"Gotta get help for Hank." His face was against the floor. "He's in a bad way."
Jack pressed harder. "The girl—she in there?"