A Penny's Worth (The Cephas Bourdon Series) (21 page)

I got to the other side of the road. Ivy nearly covered a sign labeling the neighborhood: Vista Heights. I noted the name and kept running, passing house after house. I must have been getting close to a major road, though, because I heard speeding cars in the distance.

“Emma! Emma!” a voice shouted from behind me. I turned and looked
—
Cephas. I stopped and he caught up to me in a matter of seconds. He pulled me into the next alleyway, and I indignantly shoved his hands off of my shoulders. Breath forced itself out my lungs as we walked briskly down the narrow path.

"That was quite good acting back there," he began, quickening our pace. "I could have sworn I actually felt your elbow as it thrust into my abdomen." Sarcasm? Really? I shook my head in disgust.

"You're such a jerk," I mumbled. I would have shouted at him, but I had neither breath nor energy. Cephas let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah, well, get used to it," he muttered in response.

"I don't have to get used to anything!" I rebutted, angry at his complete lack of sensitivity.

"Look, can we not do this right now?" he asked, looking over at me. I scowled and dropped the conversation, but only because I ran out of breath. I needed full lungs to tell Cephas Bourdon just what I thought of him. We continued on in silence, listening to the cars zoom along the highway on the other side of the massive cement wall that separated the road from the ally.

“I wasn't sure you'd come,” I finally said, adjusting the backpack straps on my shoulders.

“Yeah, we're going to have to work on that,” he muttered under his strained breathing. We came to a chain
-
link fence.

“Can you climb it?” he asked, chucking his bag over the top.

“Yeah,” I muttered, pulling myself up the barrier. We climbed over the fence and I jumped off the other side. Cephas jumped after me and we ran down the pathway. High wooden fences lined the backyards, leaving a narrow asphalt path for us to run on. A dog barked as we ran past his yard and I jumped in surprise. I stopped running and rested my hands on my waist, heaving the carbon dioxide out of my chest.

“Why didn't you bring your car?” I asked, nearly out of breath.

“It has a tracking device on it,” he replied, stopping and removing my backpack. “Now, don't take me for some idiot: I do have a plan, but this has thrown a glitch in my plan. They weren't supposed to kidnap you for another day.”

“You knew they were going to kidnap me!” I yelled, instant rage taking over.

“Well, yes, but I had a plan. Everything was going to be just fine.”

“And now? Does this seem fine to you!” I asked, trying to look him in the eyes
. H
e was intent on adjusting the backpack straps. He raised one eyebrow and made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Now we're wingin' it,” he said. “Come on
—
we don't have that much further to go.”

“Well, I'm glad you have some semblance of a plan,” I said sarcastically. He smirked and we ran a little further. I could see the end of the alleyway up ahead. Cars. Finally, I was going to be around people. I considered screaming for help, but knew it wouldn't do any good. Cephas was too smart. We came to a large parking lot behind an even larger warehouse.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“You sure do ask a lot of questions,” he commented, walking briskly in between the vehicles.

“I think I'm entitled to ask a lot of questions,” I shot back, infuriated at his snide remark.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “It's just
—
I'm used to handling these situations by myself. I've never had someone else to worry about.” The words stung, but if he noticed, he didn't care. I kept moving, adrenaline maneuvering my legs quickly through the parking lot. We stopped at a motorcycle and Cephas threw his bag on the ground
. H
e began fiddling with some wires.

“Are we stealing this bike?” I asked, disgusted at his lack of ethics.

“Kind of.”

“Kind of? What does that mean!”

“Look,” he said, his voice demanding. “You need to calm down, stop asking questions, and just go with it. I know this might not seem ethical to you, but my object
ive
is far greater than somebody's bike getting stolen.”

“Care to enlighten me?” I said, my mother's stubbornness coming out in my voice. He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, here's the deal. You roll with my plan for the next two hours until we get somewhere safe. Then I'll explain everything.” He raised his eyebrows, asking for my cooperation.

“Do you promise not to kill anyone?” I asked, folding my arms. I hadn't seen him kill anyone yet, but his reputation preceded him. He looked into my eyes, his face expressionless.

“Get on the bike,” he ordered, swinging his leg over the seat. I picked up my backpack that he had been carrying and slung it over my back. I sat behind him and held onto the seat.

“You might want to hold onto my waist, sweetheart. You're in for a wild ride.” I placed my hands tentatively around his waist, unwilling to allow myself any pleasure in it. I held my head away from his as he sparked some wires and gassed the engine. We lurched forward and the back tire squealed. The bike roared to life, speeding across the parking lot. I grasped his waist tighter and we pulled out onto the road.

“Where are we going?” I shouted.

“Don't worry about it,” he replied. “Just hang on!” He pushed the throttle and we moved even faster. We flew past cars at a rapid pace with the wind blowing in my face.

“Aren't we supposed to be wearing helmets on this thing?” I shouted over the noise of the motor.

“I didn't think you'd want me to steal those too. My mistake,” he shouted back. I could picture the left corner of his mouth twitching upward. Something whizzed by my head, and the motorcycle swerved to the right. I clutched tighter to
Cephas’
waist, feeling the individual muscles in his abdomen flex as he leaned forward, pushing the throttle harder. Somebody was shooting at us! The bike jumped onto the sidewalk, veering in between a few people. This was ridiculous!

The motor drowned out all of the noise of the busy street we turned onto. We returned to the road, weaving in and out of traffic until we turned sharply into another parking lot. The bike slowed and we pulled behind a building. We got off of the bike and Cephas beckoned for me to follow. I stood from the bike and paused a moment, trying to regain my balance from all of the weaving through traffic. I took a deep breath and assessed my surrounding. A sign stated 'Grassy City Library' near the entrance. A nearly empty parking lot surrounded a one story building. Small glass windows lined the entrance to the small library. Cephas grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me into the back entrance. The silence in the library was shocking just now, and I dared not whisper. We walked hurriedly down the dark hall; floor to ceiling shelves lined the walls, packed with books. I cast my eyes up and down the aisles; I had never seen so many books in such a small space. I heard a click and turned toward Cephas. He pushed open a door and shoved me through.

“Just stay in here until I come and get you,” he commanded.

“I don't appreciate your demanding attitude," I stated firmly.

“I just need to buy us some time,” he said, his eyes cold. “Stay here.” He pulled my chin up to force my eyes to meet his. “Please?” he whispered. I rolled my eyes and he spun on his heels, pulling the door shut. I looked around to figure out my location: a janitor's closet. Metal shelves lined the walls and protruded into the middle of the room. The room was dark, except for an ill
-
covered window at the back of the closet. I walked toward the creases of light it provided and looked up. It was near the ceiling. I looked around for a stool and found an old crate. It was just tall enough to peer through the high window.

The small square of glass was covered with an old, cracking piece of wood. The cracks were too small to see through, so I pulled at the board. The old nails were loose, but I couldn't quite pull the wood free. I yanked on it. Without warning, a piece of the wood broke loose and I flew backward. My feet flew above my head and I landed with a thud on a pile of old rags
—
that was convenient. I stood up and dusted off my pants, retaking my perch. I could see through the window now. The small parking lot hosted a few cars, though it was deserted as far as people were concerned, albeit one man. It was the English man from the art gallery
,
I was sure of it. His long sideburns gave him away. Turning the knob clockwise on the antique window, I reeled the window open, just a little. A rush of street noise filled the tiny closet. The man turned on his heels and then smiled.

“Oh, Cephas, it's you. You gave me quite a fright,” he said in a lowered voice. Cephas held out his hand. What was he doing? The man took it, shaking it in a friendly manner. “Where's the hostage?” he asked.

“I lost her, a ways back,” came
Cephas’
reply. The man eyed him suspiciously.

“Why didn't you call for help? That's protocol.”

“Yeah, well, this situation is a little different.”

“How's that?” he asked.

“We don't usually hold people hostage. We just kill them.”

“So what's the plan?” he asked, unwillingly allowing
Cephas’
excuse.

“You head back to the safe
house.
I'll meet you there once I've found her.”

“But Cephas, I've got a tracker with me. She's somewhere near here.” My breath caught involuntarily in my throat. The noise was small, but the man noticed. I covered my mouth to prevent my making another noise. The Englishman turned slowly toward the window and narrowed his eyes. He took a step toward the window, which came to about his waist. The room must be half way in the basement. I tried to swallow, but my fear kept anything from going down. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible. His eyes were nearly staring right at me, though he didn't see my face.

“Look, James,” I heard Cephas start. James tore his piercing eyes from the window for a moment to look at Cephas. “I'm going to need some assistance when I bring her back to the house. Go get everything
ready
. Just hurry over there and I'll be back soon.” Cephas turned away from James, who simultaneously pulled a gun from his side.

“Don't move, Cephas.” Cephas stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. His eyes were gray.

“What are you doing, James?” he asked, warning in his voice.

“I saw you with her
—
on the bike. I saw you. Whose side are you on?” he demanded, the gun ever pointed at
Cephas’
chest. His voice was nearly a whisper, though venom spewed from his mouth.

“James, go to the house. That's an order.” James took a step closer to Cephas.

“I have other orders: kill any and all traitors,” James responded, his voice cold like
Cephas’
. His finger pulled slightly on the gun's trigger and Cephas lunged forward. Grabbing James's right wrist, he punched him hard in the face. James reeled backward, his gun now in
Cephas’
hand. Cephas pulled the gun apart and dropped it on the ground.

“Enough, James,” he hissed.

“Not even close,” James retorted, flying at Cephas. He swung a fist into
Cephas’
face and plunged another into his stomach. Cephas leaned over and moaned in agony. James set his hands on
Cephas’
bent shoulders and slammed his knee into
Cephas’
face. Cephas flew backward and landed on the ground. James stalked toward him. I resisted the urge to scream.

“Idiot!” James shouted. “Choosing a stupid girl over Dominic. If I don't kill you, somebody else will. And all for a stupid girl
—
not even a woman!” His English accent made his comments all the more infuriating. I glared, though nobody could see my expression. Cephas stood from his crouched position on the asphalt. Determination crossed his face and he closed his mouth, gritting his teeth. Blood dripped from his left eye
. H
is tongue moved over his broken lip as he took a few steps toward James.

“How long have you known me, James?” Cephas asked, slowly stepping closer to him. James stopped walking.

“Long enough to know your youthful mind takes advantage of your better judgment, and you won't kill me.” A devilish smile crossed his pale white face.

“Why wouldn't I?” Cephas asked, taking another step forward.

“Because you're soft. If only Dominic knew how truly incapable you really are.”

Cephas ran at James and slammed his fist into his stomach, then let his other fist fly at his face with all the force he could summon. James fell over and Cephas grabbed him by the shirt. He beat his face over and over, blood spouting with each release of his fist. He pulled James to his feet and slammed him against the wall next to the window. I heard James’s head thud against the stucco
. H
e moaned in pain. Cephas whispered something in his ear, but I didn't hear what he said. I watched as he unpinned James from the wall and stood him on the sidewalk. He tottered from side to side, and Cephas steadied him. He let him go and reeled his arm back. James wobbled backward, his eyes rolling back in his head. He wobbled forward, and Cephas released his left arm, James's head turning violently to one side before he crumpled to the ground. The terrible sound of skull meeting cement reached my ears. Blood pooled around James's head.