Jonas Saul - The Hostage

They’d made it. Her heart beat in anticipation of what her life was about to become. They’d made it. They were out. But now she seemed even more afraid because of the man in the seat beside her. He could hurt her more than the bullets, bruises and fights she’d endured over the last five years.

Drake had a weapon that cut her on the inside.

If they began a relationship, she’d voluntarily walk into it and willingly make herself a target. That was something altogether foreign for her. She had no idea what to do.

Her hands shook on the wheel of Ferenci’s car. She wondered if Drake would notice. Her face felt flush.

What the hell is wrong with me? Do I or don’t I? Would I or won’t I?

But she had no choice now.

“That was close,” Drake said.

“Very,” Sarah said.

She focused on her driving as the afternoon sun beat down on the windshield.

One Month Later…

The waiter directed them to a quiet table by an old train car near the center of the restaurant. Sarah gawked at the sight of the train car, having come to love the uniqueness of Toronto.

Sarah pulled out her own chair and sat. It had been a month since Ferenci had tried to kill Drake at the baseball game. In that time she had set a few rules down for the romantic Drake. One of those had been that she would pull out all her own chairs. Wooing was nice, even pleasant at times, but she needed to go slow as a relationship violated her independence to the core. She told him she was willing to try, but it had to be friends first — spend time together — get to know one another. Then work from there.

Every event wasn’t a date and every date wasn’t an invitation or an expectation.

Drake had agreed without pause.

He sat across from her and smiled. “I just can’t believe it,” he said. “It’s finally over. Ferenci is dead. His hired muscle is in jail and Elmore is dead. I don’t know how we did it, but we’re the ones walking away.” He looked into her eyes. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe it. I never thought I would be happy that another human being was dead, but some people don’t deserve life.”

“They might want to think about banning police scanners too. I mean, Ferenci heard the call for all officers to respond to Elmore’s studio and beat the cops there by five full minutes. Because of that scanner, you could have been killed before anyone got there.”

Drake picked up the menu. “I know. I shudder when I think about it. When Ferenci opened Elmore’s trunk, I thought he’d shoot me on the spot. Using those fake cops to get to you almost worked.”

Sarah looked at the name on the menu. “The Old Spaghetti Factory. What made you pick this place for dinner? Is it good?”

“Sure. It’s one of the best in Toronto. Anyone who has been in this city for more than a decade has come here at least once.” Drake dropped his menu back to the table. “Sarah, what do you think of Toronto so far?”

Sarah smiled and set her menu down too. “It’s been amazing. I’ve never been this free. I’m finally, completely free. No one is stalking me or hunting me down. After what Rod did for me, I’m eternally grateful.”

She picked her menu up again and browsed the wine list while she thought about Rod. He’d gotten out of the hospital two weeks ago and headed back to the states alone, ready to retire from the Sophia Project. Sarah could have run from Elmore’s basement and left him to die. Instead, she had brought help in time to save his life. For that he’d told her that he would take her file and report it as unfounded. Sarah Roberts had no special abilities, he would say. As far as he was concerned, his agency would have no further interest in her. She could be free to do whatever she wanted without worry of their group anymore. Although she remembered his one caution: keep under the radar.

The waiter set fresh bread on their table. Sarah breathed in deeply as the smell wafted up. She ordered an Australian red and Drake chose a domestic beer.

She admired his ability to ignore his wounds. He’d healed quickly with an attitude that any physiologist would love. He repeatedly said his muscles would learn. Even though they ached and he limped, he refused to use a crutch of any kind. He’d walk on the bad leg until it learned to right itself. Sounded a little foolish to her at first, but he was coming along great, barely limping at all.

Parkman had flown back to his job as his leave of absence had ended. She missed him, but knew they’d see each other again soon. She wanted to take Drake to the states to meet Esmerelda and her daughter, Denise. She couldn’t take Drake all that way and not meet Dolan too. Whether she let Drake meet her parents or not was something she’d have to consider. How serious were they or how serious were they going to be?

“Tell me more about Vivian. When was the last time she got in touch?”

Sarah adjusted in her chair. “I miss hearing from her. She sent me a message a week ago apologizing for not helping more with Elmore. She had decided to stop with the messages as Armond had been dealt with and so had Ferenci. She felt she had put me in harm’s way too often. It’s all over, she claimed. I have tried to talk to her numerous times, but I still haven’t gotten a reply.”

“Tell me about Esmerelda and Dolan,” Drake said.

The waiter showed up with their drinks. Sarah sniffed her wine, spun it in the glass and then sipped. After another sip, she set it down.

“She’s a lovely woman. She lives with her daughter now. You’ll meet them one day.”

“How do you know her and Dolan?”

“Long story. Order me another glass of wine and I’ll tell you all about it. Our trip to the states will be great.” She took another sip. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this free.”

Sarah leaned to look past Drake toward a commotion at the front of the restaurant. He turned in his chair.

A group of men in business suits argued with their waiter. Sarah watched as one of the men pushed the waiter aside and stepped farther into the restaurant.

Her stomach lurched. She hadn’t been without trouble for this long and wondered for weeks if trouble would find her again. The man looked ex-military with his buzz cut hair and his hard, chiseled features. The men behind him watched his every move and waited for an order.

She picked up her wine glass and sipped from it.

“That’s fuckin’ rude,” Drake said as he turned back in his seat.

Drake grabbed the bread and broke a piece off.

The men spread into the restaurant in a search-grid formation. It was evident to Sarah that they were looking for someone.

As the leader looked at the face of a girl six tables over, Sarah detected the butt of a weapon protruding through the fabric of the man’s jacket.

“Drake, they’re packing. This may not be cool. Be ready.”

He stopped buttering his bread and stared at her. “You’re kidding, right? Who could it be? We were cleared on everything. Spencer backed us up along with Rod on the entire story. We were the victims-”

“Shhh, they’re coming our way.”

The leader stepped behind Drake and stared at Sarah. Then he whistled with his fingers like he was playing Frisbee in a park with no regard for the fact that he was in a classy restaurant. All of his men turned and started toward them.

“Sarah Roberts?”

She took another sip of her wine and set the glass down, her stomach in knots.

What now?

“That depends,” she said.

The man raised his eyebrows. “On what?” he asked.

“Who you are.” She wrapped her hand around the butter knife on her side of the table. “I can be Sarah Roberts for the right price, but I can also be Maggie May. Does that sound right, Mr. Stewart?”