“I’m just the collector,” he said. “I deliver you to your boss in LA and get paid. Blacksmith said in one piece if possible, but he wasn’t too picky. Guess he’s not so happy that half his crew got nabbed by the pigs a few days back.”
His phone rang then, and he nearly missed a curve answering it. “Wrench,” he said sharply.
It took Jenny a moment to realize he meant it as his name.
He glanced back at her, listening to the phone intensely. He swapped ears, navigating another corner and a series of epic potholes. “I know,” he said, clearly trying to keep his voice down. “I’m on a good job right now, I’ll have the money real soon.”
Jenny’s otter senses weren’t all gone; she could hear him without effort, even over the sounds of the van and the rising wind outside. The jungle was whipping alarmingly, and in the few places they drove through clear areas, she could see Wrench struggling to control the van against the wind.
“No, it’s a sure thing. You can sign her up for the class, I’ll make sure it gets paid.”
Jenny could almost hear the voice at the other end, but not quite.
“Yeah,” Wrench said ambiguously. It was night and day how different his voice was on this conversation compared to the last. “Can I talk to her?”
If his voice had been less gruff with this conversation, it was now an order of magnitude more gentle, and as quiet as Wrench could manage. “Hey, kitten!”
The chatter at the other end was even clearer, high-pitched and eager. Jenny could make out the words ballet, friends, music, and dancing. She watched Wrench in the mirror, re-evaluating him as he conversed with the girl at the other end of the phone. Even his face softened, and when he took off his sunglasses because the sky was growing dark, his eyes looked gentle.
Was this Stockholm syndrome? Jenny wondered. It wasn’t that she didn’t still want to kick the man in the knees, but it was hard to hate someone who would buy ballet lessons for a little girl. Even if it was with dirty kidnapping money.
“I gotta go, kitten,” Wrench said at last, as they broke out of the jungle at the end of a little private runway. Barely audible, he added, “Love you,” before hanging up and glaring suspiciously at Jenny in the mirror.
Jenny pretended that she hadn’t heard a word, and wondered if she’d imagined the gentleness.
Wrench parked the van at the end of the runway, and cursed when he opened his door and the wind blew it shut before he could get out.
Jenny considered struggling when Wrench came around the van to pull her out, but she knew at once that it would be futile and settled for stomping on his foot as he set her down. She tried again to shift to her otter shape, and the wave of dizziness that came with the effort made her almost fall over.
But she could tell that whatever it was she’d been given was weakening. Her otter was there again, growling and gnashing sharp teeth in frustration. Jenny played up her dizziness and slumped into Wrench.
Wrench cut the cords at her ankles, and hauled her to her feet. Jenny knew she had no chance of outrunning him in this form; she had enough trouble standing upright against the whipping wind.
Wrench’s phone rang and he answered it with a growl of his name, turning away from the wind and repeating it louder when it wasn’t heard the first time.
“He’s nuts to try it,” he shouted. “But we’re waiting.”
He hung up, and pulled Jenny into the dubious shelter behind the van.
Jenny looked at the way the trees were bending in the gusts. “You might want to make sure they know what to do with your money when you die in a fiery plane crash. Wouldn’t want your kitten to default on her ballet lessons.”
She was rewarded with Wrench’s ala
rmed, embarrassed look. “You’ve got better ears than I thought,” he snarled, not amused. “I’ll be glad to hand you off.”
The rumble of the approaching airplane was hard even for Jenny to hear over the wind, which was now roaring, crosswise to the runway. She pointed her bound hands in that direction. “Well, here it comes now.”
Wrench looked, and they both watched in horror as the little plane was caught in a gust, twisted sideways and over-corrected, spitting back out over the ocean to crash into the waves offshore.
Chapter 21
Travis skidded to a stop at the top of the resort.
The van was long gone, down the winding jungle road that led to the airport on the other side of the island.
He howled in rage, and Tex and Laura, panting, came up behind him.
“I thought that Costa Rica didn’t get hurricanes,” Tex said, staring at the sky and holding onto his hat. There were thick dark clouds gathering north of the island, and the wind was beginning to pick up with a vengeance.