Page 113 of Breaking the Rules
Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was him.
“Hello?” Waverly answered.
“Good morning again, sunshine,” Brad’s voice rang out with the cheerfulness of a man who was about to get everything he wanted. “Follow my instructions, and you’ll see your mother alive again. Fuck with me, and you won’t.”
“I’m not fucking with you. I brought Petra,” she said, tightening her grip on the girl’s arm.
“Take your radio out of your ear and get rid of the mic.”
Waverly hesitated and glanced around her. She felt the gazes of a dozen people weighing on her. She tapped her foot nervously under the table. One long tap followed by two short ones.
“Don’t sit there waiting to be rescued. Do it now!” he shouted through the phone.Shit. He definitely had a visual on her.It could be anyone with a cell phone out or a well-placed hidden camera.
She plucked the radio out of her ear and whispered a hasty “I love you” into her shoulder mic as she removed it, too.
“Radio’s out,” she confirmed quietly into the phone.
“On the count of ten, I want you to walk your friend out that exit behind the butcher. Throw your radio in the trashcan on your way out,” Brad told her. Waverly gauged the distance from their table to the side door. It was about thirty feet, and a lot could happen in thirty feet.
The federal agents were reacting to her change in behavior, not even bothering to avoid eye contact. She could tell that everyone felt the change in the air.
“Go. Walk out the fucking door now,” Brad ordered.
Waverly grabbed the edge of Petra’s poncho and started hauling ass toward the cooler case of meat. She dumped the radio in the trashcan and felt like she had just stepped out of a plane without a parachute. A huge group of Japanese tourists chose that moment to wander down the aisle, creating mayhem everywhere.
Waverly shoved the exterior door open and kept a strong grip on the poncho.
“We’re out,” she told him. The sidewalk was crowded with people watching a street performer act like a statue.
“Good. Now get on the bus.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” A fire engine red double decker Hollywood tour bus waited at the curb.
“Do I sound like I’m kidding?” Brad yelled into the phone. Waverly heard a crash and then a scream. Her mother’s scream.
“Jesus! Don’t you fucking hurt her. We’re getting on the bus.”
She pushed the woman on ahead of her and paid in cash for the tickets. The doors closed after her, and the bus pulled away from the curb. Away from Xavier. Away from help.
“Go up onto the second level and sit in the two front seats,” Brad ordered through the phone.
Waverly gestured up and followed Petra’s holey jeans up the skinny staircase.
“We’re up,” she said. There were a dozen people on the second level, but the two front seats were open. Her phone signaled another incoming call, but she ignored it. “Where are we going?”
The tour guide’s voice droned over the loudspeaker directing guests to look right and left at the highlights of downtown.
“You don’t get to ask the questions. Now sit down and don’t move your phone away from your ear. You’re not alone up there, and if I see you trying to signal anyone or get help, Mommy’s getting a bullet in her head.” She heard the ominous sound of a gun slide racking.
Waverly wet her lips. “I won’t try to signal anyone. Can I talk to her?”
“When you get here and hand over the girl, you’ll have all the time in the world to talk.”
“What are you going to do to us?” Waverly asked. She didn’t have to force the tremor in her voice.
“Well, Waverly, since you’ve been such a headache to me, I’m going to kill you. But if you hold up your end of the bargain and bring me Petra. Then I’ll let your mother go free.”
There was an ice cube’s chance in a hell-hosted barbecue that he’d let anyone walk away. But right now, Waverly was her mother’s only chance.
