Page 53 of Laura's Truth
“Fair point,” she allowed, tugging him away. “But let’s find our seats anyway.”
A happy usher led them to a private box with a perfect view of the stage. “Wow,” Laura breathed when they were alone. “Remind me to thank Allie and Ross.”
“No kidding.” They had the high ground at last. If he only had a rifle, Drew could pick off any member of the audience at any given time. He looked over his shoulder at the curtain draped across the entrance to their box.
“Can I trust you to stay put for five minutes?”
“Where would I go?” he asked innocently. That earned him her arch look, an expression he shouldn’t enjoy quite so much.
This was the plan and his pretend wife was armed, trained, and there were other experts close by keeping eyes on her. He had to trust them to carry this out the right way.
“If he so much as touches you, I’ll kill him.”
The words came out a little stronger than he’d intended. Her lovely hazel eyes went wide, then filled with amusement. She bent down, giving him a terrific view of her cleavage above the soft, pale green fabric before distracting him with a quick, hard kiss. “That might be the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me.”
Startled by that reply, he let her go without another word. The lingering floral scent of her perfume was his only company in the box while he waited. She had to get out there and be bait. If Hackett got impatient and made a move on her, there would be one more nail to pound into the legal coffin and keep him buried.
Sitting back, he perused the program, watched the seats below fill up, and waited impatiently for the signal that Ross had captured Hackett.
At the first high-pitched scream from the lobby, he jerked in his seat, along with everyone else. Adrenaline firing through him, he clutched his phone, imagining how it was playing out while he waited for the theater security team to announce the all clear. Instead, a fire alarm went off. A surge of worry, strong as an electric current and nearly as debilitating, flooded his system. The fire alarm hadn’t been part of the plan.
The fire doors dividing the lobby and theater slammed shut. No! Separating him from Laura was not the plan at all. Hackett had improvised—Drew felt it in his gut. He rushed out of the box, knocking over the usher making sure everyone evacuated.
Ignoring the shouts behind him, he searched for a way back to the lobby. Below him, the theater patrons obediently cooperated with the ushers, moving hastily toward the exits.
He would vacate the building only when he and Laura walked out of here together. He pounded down the wide steps and skidded to a stop at the nearest door. He yanked, swore, and rattled, but it wouldn’t give.
No windows meant he had no idea what kind of trouble she might be dealing with on the other side. Ushers hollered at him, running at him from either side.
Drew darted into the nearest row, racing toward the center aisle. There had to be another way back to the lobby. At the very least, an exit closer to the front of the theater. He slid, struggling for traction in the smooth-soled rental shoes.
He would not allow Laura to deal with Hackett alone. Teams and plans were all well and good, until someone screwed up. He charged up to the stage, remarkably empty, darting around set pieces as he aimed for the wings closest to the lobby. The red exit sign glowed like a beacon and he headed for it at full speed.
Each choice and detail about tonight’s plan flashed through his head. Every single option suddenly felt like a dreadful mistake. No earpieces meant he was severed from Laura, with no hope of an immediate update. The phone, which should’ve been enough, wasn’t. What had they been thinking to play this so casually?
He burst through the emergency exit and out into the thick humid air of the Charleston evening. Determined, he ran for the front of the building, dodging and weaving around confused patrons and costumed actors clogging his path.
She wasn’t here. He resisted the swell of panic as he scanned the groups being urged away from the building to make room for emergency personnel.
She wasn’t here.
It should have been a simple thing. The fake bullet in Aziz would appease Hackett and mark phase one of their plan complete. But getting a visual on Hackett amid the evacuating crowd proved impossible as most of the men looked the same in dark formalwear at night on the congested street.
Feeling choked, he tugged at his tie, let it hang loose as he unbuttoned his collar. Best he could tell, Laura and Aziz were still inside. It was the only answer. Blind to everything but his purpose, he started up the steps. A uniformed man tried to turn him away and Drew threw a fast, hard jab. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his bleeding nose as Drew marched on.
Through the glass door, he finally spotted Laura. On her knees, administering CPR to a man on the floor. Aziz. Relief that she was safe swamped him. He rushed to her side before anyone else could stop him. “What happened?”
She only shook her head, counting compressions. “Are the paramedics here?”
“Not yet.”
“He’s going to make it.” She breathed into Aziz’s mouth. “He is going to live, damn it.”
Slowly the rest of the scene registered in Drew’s mind. The pale green of her gown was stained with blood, probably Aziz’s. One man held pressure on a leg wound while two others stood guard along with the theater security staff. Another long minute passed before paramedics rushed in, relieving Laura of the medical responsibility.
He pulled her close, offering his handkerchief to wipe away the blood on her hands. “Hackett?” he whispered at her ear.
She nodded, her full lower lip caught in her teeth. “I pulled the fire alarm when… when he…”