“Who’s Terri?” More uncertainty showed in Eliza’s expression.
“She works with me. You’ll like her.” Jack checked the time on Eliza’s nightstand. He had twenty more minutes. “Terri is kind and she’ll keep you all safe.”
“What do I do then, once we’re in the bus?” Venom flared in Eliza’s eyes. “How do I know you’re an under cover agent? You’re probably another evil ruler like my father, taking us to a new house. New customers. Instead of joining families, you’re taking all of us and making your own business.”
“No.” Only time would help Eliza understand. “I’m not like that. And I’m not making this up.”
Eliza closed her eyes for nearly a minute, as if she didn’t want Jack to see her afraid for even that long. When she opened them, the anger was still there. Same with her fear. But once again she’d made up her mind to help him. This time, no turning back. Jack could tell.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” She spit the words. “But I don’t trust you, Luke. I’ll only do it because I hate my father. And because if I don’t go along with his plans, he’ll kill me anyway.” She softened just a bit. “The way he killed Alexa.”
“Yes.” Jack ached for the girl. “You’re right.”
He had one more order of business. He explained that he wouldn’t be by tomorrow—Wednesday night. But he would arrange with her father to see her again on Thursday. The night of the raid. That way it wouldn’t surprise Anders’s men when Jack pulled up in his Porsche at seven forty-four.
“I have just one way to communicate with you.” Jack explained that he would be at the beach both Wednesday and Thursday around noon—the same time she would be there. “If I wear a navy swimsuit, the plan remains the same.” He took his time. This part was crucial. “If something changes, I’ll wear a yellow suit. I’ll ap proach you like yesterday afternoon and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“What about the guards? They’ll be watching.”
“We’re supposed to be getting married at the end of the week. They won’t suspect anything.”
“True. I get it.” She looked away. “Navy suit, the plan’s on. Yellow suit, something’s changed.”
“Exactly.” Relief flooded Jack’s veins. “Now tell me where the exits to this place are. Be specific. Which doors have guards, and how many guards. Everything you know.”
She did as he asked and when his time with her was almost over, he dressed, messed up the sheets and blankets and tossed two pillows on the floor. Then he made eye contact with her once more. “Thursday night. Girls in the boardroom at seven thirty. Door stopped, window open. I’ll see you minutes after that.”
Again she said nothing. But this time she nodded.
And that was all the assurance Jack needed.
* * *
A BREEZE OFF the Caribbean washed over Eliza as she set up her chair the next day. She was reading C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, trying to decide whether the children should run for their lives, or if Aslan, the lion, really was good.
The way she was trying to decide about Luke.
She was immersed in Aslan’s world, midway through Chapter Eight, when Luke strolled onto the beach. If he was a secret agent, then he must’ve studied the way rich boys strut the shoreline. But what if he really was just another Anders McMillan? With the girls he would take in tomorrow night’s raid, he could triple his business. Trafficking the Palace girls on some other beach.
If he was actually in the business and not an FBI agent.
Eliza refused to think about the possibility. She couldn’t fixate on her doubts. Luke was her only way out, whether she liked it or not. And since he hadn’t taken her knife, she would have that. She wouldn’t dream of running away from the Palace without some way to protect herself and the girls.
None of whom had any idea what was about to go down.
This morning at breakfast, Eliza had been tempted to pull Rosa aside and tell her everything. Rosa was fifteen, and she looked up to Eliza. Even though Eliza had helped the girl accept her place at the Palace.
A chill ran down her spine all the way to her legs. A chill the hot summer sunshine couldn’t touch. Because if not for tomorrow’s raid, in a few months two other girls would turn twenty. The younger girls would think the two were off to Europe. Or gone to find help for the girls still held captive.
Instead they would be dead like Alexa.