AN: Again, I do apologize for another short chapter and the lengthy delay to post it. I've been unwell with a viral infection and an allergic reaction to medication so I have been doing plenty of sleeping and catching up on reading instead. I hope to update more regularly once my energy returns and I am able to concentrate...fingers crossed sooner rather than later ;-)
Thank you so much to all those who continue to follow this story. I am also very grateful for the feedback I've received.
Tanith
Chapter 61
Steve sat fidgeting with the lock of the glove compartment that had come loose. The radio suddenly crackled and he snatched up the receiver so fast he almost dropped it. Juggling the receiver in his hand, he acknowledged the dispatcher.
"We've got a match on a vehicle registered to Whitney J Holden, parked at San Francisco International Airport. Over."
Airport? What?! Steve silently prayed they weren't too late. He requested for back-up units then replaced the receiver and scooted over to the driver's seat, ignoring the pain erupting in his body as best he could. Turning the keys in the ignition, he started up the LTD and snapped on his seat belt. He knew Mike was going to be ticked off but right now that was the least of his worries.
Whitney's heart started to hammer loudly in his chest as he felt Jeannie's steps growing even more sluggish. They had made it out to the runway without encountering any obstacles but now two airport security personnel were headed straight towards them and a third was speaking animatedly with the pilot of their plane.
"Mr. Holden?" One of the two guards called out.
Whitney swallowed down the bile that had risen uninvitingly up his esophagus. He continued to approach the men, keeping a firm hold around Jeannie's shoulders. Damn it, Jackson! Cursing his inside-man for not giving them enough time to make their get-away, Whitney felt inevitably cornered. They were so close! If only, he could just get past the guards. Relax. Just breathe. Act normal. Maybe they don't know anything.
When the guards were a few feet away, Whitney hollered over the noise of planes taking off from nearby runways, "I'm booked to fly out with my fiancé. Is there a problem?"
"Afraid that plane will not be leaving this airport, Sir," guard number two shouted.
Shit. Whitney's heart sank and the panic working its way through his system, escalated but he managed to ask, "What? Why? I don't understand."
"Let's go to my office and we can have a talk," guard number two continued.
They were less than three feet away. Whitney broke out in a cold sweat. If he was going to act, he would have to do it now before the cops arrived. Stopping in his tracks, he started to back away, dragging Jeannie with him.
"Whitney?" Jeannie called out weakly. She felt him tense and move backwards. What was happening?
"It's alright, Sweetheart. I need you to trust me, okay?" Whitney practically pleaded. He planted a hurried kiss on Jeannie's forehead then plunged his free hand into the inside pocket of his jacket.
The two guards stopped advancing when they noticed the sudden change in the young man's behaviour. The warning bells sounded but it was too late to react when Holden whipped out a handgun from his pocket and held it out in front of him.
"Whoah! Take it easy, son," guard number two said, holding up his hands, palms facing outward. His partner tried to flank the gunman but stopped when the weapon was pointed in his direction.
"We need to get on that plane. Please….just….let us through," Whitney reqauested. His hand shook as he held the gun out in front of him. "My fiancé is gravely ill!" Using Jeannie's current state of health as a reason to excuse his actions might just be the only thing to keep him out of jail and so began another infamous Holden fabrication.
"Mr. Holden, let us help you and the young lady there but we need your cooperation," guard number one negotiated, drawing Holden's attention back to him.
A hole started to form through the foggy haze that had clouded Jeannie's consciousness. She planted her feet firmly on the tarmac, her blue eyes travelled from the two security guards to the gun that extended from Whitney's outstretched arm. "Whitney? What are you doing?" She croaked, horrified and confused. She craned her neck and looked up, searching Whitney's face for answers.
Whitney's hand quivered and the gun felt slippery against his sweaty palm. He readjusted his grip and saw the guard to his left make a move for his revolver. Pulling Jeannie tighter against him, he turned to his left and directed his gun at the guard. "You! Your gun…put it on the ground. Slowly." Then shifting his gaze to the second guard, Whitney ordered, "And you too!"
The two security guards looked at each other for confirmation before slowly complying with Holden Junior's demands.
Jeannie shook her head to clear the cobwebs then tried to extricate herself from Whitney's grip but he held on fast with bruising force. "Whitney, you're hurting me!" She whimpered. This had to be a nightmare, Jeannie kept telling herself. She was ill and must've fallen asleep somewhere. Wake up, please, wake up! This can't be happening.
Mike watched as George Holden was cuffed and placed in the back of a patrol car then he started to make his way over to where he thought he parked the LTD. An officer that Mike knew raced up to the Lieutenant and breathlessly reported, "Mike, it's Steve. He took off."
Mike's face blanched. "What? Where?"
