Page 59 of Shadowed Agenda
She’d have to settle for bawling her eyes out in the bathtub before the first event on the book tour.
“You need to talk to him,” Finlay said.
“What I need is tub time so I can pull myself together,” Regan said as she rose. She plucked the bag of pastries off the coffee table and narrowed her eyes at Finlay. “I’m taking these. Don’t try to stop me.”
“They’re all yours,” Finlay laughed as an incoming text message dinged. She glanced at her cell phone. “Must be your cell phone.”
Regan picked up her cell phone. Her fingers trembled as she glanced at the home screen. Tapping the screen, she read the message. She stared at the attached photograph. It was a picture of Emmeline sitting on a man’s knee. He’s dressed in black, his face covered by a black balaclava. Emmeline was crying.
Finlay stood and read the text message as Regan stared at her screen.
Proof of life. Be at the LinkNYC kiosk in 15 minutes. Come alone.
An address five blocks away followed. It would be tight, and she wouldn’t make it if the reporters hanging around the hotel stopped her.
A sentence she’d read a couple of years ago while researching a book echoed through her head. The brain’s response to a terrifying situation is unpredictable. It is impossible to know if the survival instinct will choose fight or flight.
She was a mother, and her child was in danger. It wasn’t a choice. There was only one option. Fight.
Regan ran into her bedroom, kicked off her high heels, and exchanged her skirt for jeans. She didn’t bother to tuck in her silk blouse. There’d be reporters camped outside. The old sun hat she wore when running and the sun was bright, and her sunglasses were the best she could do as a disguise.
“Pavlo needs to go with you,” Finlay said as Regan stuck her bare feet into her running shoes.
“You read the message.” She didn’t have time to argue with Finlay. “They said to come alone.”
“These men are dangerous,” Finlay said.
That was why Regan needed to make it to the LinkNYC kiosk in time. There was no predicting what they’d do to Emmeline if she didn’t arrive on time.
Regan hesitated and looked at her old cell phone on the night table. Pavlo had returned it last night. They’d removed the app that had allowed the person responsible for this nightmare to invade her privacy.
She grabbed the cell and put it in her pocket. The battery was fully charged when she’d turned it on last night. She’d set her favorite photo of Emmeline as the screensaver. It was as close as she could be to her daughter right now.
“At least let me go with you,” Finlay said, following her into the living area.
“You already pointed out that these men are dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Regan scooped up her handbag from the floor beside the coffee table and slipped it across her shoulders.
Finlay had given up arguing with her and was already opening the portable door locks. Hands full, she stepped aside so Regan could leave.
“Thanks,” Regan said, slipping on her sunglasses.
“Be safe,” Finlay said as Regan undid the deadbolt.
“Isla!” Regan exclaimed. Her publicist stood in the hallway, hand raised to knock on the door. “What are you doing here?”
“You can’t speak at the book convention looking like that,” Isla said, ignoring her question.
Regan pushed past her and raced down the hallway. She threw open the stairwell door and ran down the stairs. Going out the back door into the alley was the only way to leave the building without being spotted by reporters. She hoped. If anyone saw her, she wouldn’t make it in time.
When she reached the lobby door, Regan took a deep breath so she didn’t look flustered and left the stairwell. The hotel would insist all reporters remain outside the hotel, but that didn’t mean one of them wouldn’t try to sneak in. She walked calmly to the end of the lobby and turned to avoid attracting attention.
It was difficult not to run down the empty hallway markedEmployees Only, but Regan couldn’t take the chance a reporter had snuck in that way.
Regan kept her head down as she pushed open the exit door. Thank goodness it was used frequently by the hotel employees and not alarmed.
Three men stood a few feet away from the door, smoking. Their white uniforms identified them as kitchen staff. They looked at her but didn’t comment. It was a big hotel. They assumed she was staff. Who else would use the exit to the alley?
The kidnappers had selected a LinkNYC kiosk on the street in front of the hotel. All Regan needed to do was head down the sidewalk until she reached the kiosk.