While Ramsey and the others discuss the ransom and possible plans of action, Lynell takes Daniel to the second-floor office, where they won’t be overheard. She locks the door and turns on some music to mask their voices.
“You know what else the kidnapper told us with that message?” she asks.
“That he’s a psychopath?” Daniel mutters.
Lynell rubs her hand down his arm, gripping his wrist. “That they’re not rebels.” She sees the moment it clicks in Daniel, as the clouds of confusion pass from his eyes.
“They’re committee members.”
“Or oligarchs or both,” Lynell says. “Thomas Johnson is probably working with them.”
“You want to meet D’Angelo.”
“Yes, but I don’t think we should tell her about Anna.”
“Why?”
“The kidnappers might not be rebels, but we shouldn’t take any chances. The less people who know about Anna, the better, don’t you think? We don’t want them feeling threatened. Also, I doubt it’d be good if they found out we met with the leader of the Resurrection.”
“Good point,” Daniel says.
Lynell smiles. He reaches out, tugs her closer, and tips her chin up. “I love you.”
She stands on her toes to capture his lips in a kiss, pressing her palm to his chest to feel the moment his racing heart begins to slow.
“Now, we have to call her and convince her to meet us somewhere secret. Shouldn’t be hard,” she says, sarcastically.
“Actually, I think I have an idea.”
* * *
They put the call on speakerphone and lean side by side against the desk.
“Hello?”
“Sawyer D’Angelo?” Lynell says.
“Yes?” D’Angelo answers, the word going up at the end like a question.
“It’s Lynell Carter. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
“No,” the other woman clears her throat. “No, this is a great time. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you.”
“Yeah, well,” Lynell says, then looks back to Daniel. He silently mouths ‘death threats’ and sees her attention slide back in place. “My associate told me about the death threats, and I think you’re right. I may be able to help.”
“Really? What makes you say that?” A door closes on the other end and a slight echo accompanies D’Angelo’s voice, suggesting she’s in a hallway.
“I’d rather explain in person,” Lynell says. “Why did you call me in the first place?”
“It’s complicated. But the threats tie us together. Each message was accompanied by news articles about you and the phrase ‘When weeds thrive, flowers die.’”
“I’m a weed?” Lynell asks. Daniel’s eyebrows raise.
“I can explain further if we meet.” Another sound of a door shutting and a whoosh of wind mingles with D’Angelo's voice.
“Meeting probably wouldn’t be smart,” she says. “Neither one of us can trust the other.” She ignores Daniel as he drops his forehead into his hand.
“We wouldn’t be very smart if we trusted each other. And you don’t strike me as a stupid person.”
“Thanks?” Lynell gives Daniel a silent confused look.
“But we could be useful to one another,” Sawyer says.
“Meaning?”
“You’re a wild card. You could be sympathetic to our cause. Or at least willing to discuss peacefully, unlike your predecessor. If you were gone, there’s no guarantee the next leader wouldn’t be Eric 2.0. You know what they say, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”
Lynell almost smirks at D’Angelo practically calling her the ‘devil.’ The boldness of such an offhand statement makes her relax a fraction. “You think manipulating me will be easier.”
Daniel looks her way and she simply shrugs. If she was in D’Angelo’s position, that would be her thought. Lynell is a twenty-four-year-old girl who has been publicly hurt by the Elysians and was recently thrown into this position. She’s pretty much a dream for anyone wanting to manipulate her from behind the curtains.
“Maybe,” D’Angelo says. “But I’m not in the business of underestimating people. Especially people who could either be my best friend or my worst enemy.”
“Well, we are enemies by trade.”
“No, our trades are enemies. You and I are strangers who have been all but forced into roles by family and circumstances outside of our control.”
“This is all very dramatic,” Lynell says.
Daniel gently shoves her in admonishment. He’s probably wishing she’d take the situation more seriously. But she learned long ago that humor is one of the only things that keeps her sane when she’s surrounded by misery.
“Our lives are built around the business of life or death—it’s dramatic by nature,” D’Angelo says.
“So, we agree that we don’t trust each other but we should meet anyway?” Lynell says.
“Yes.”
“Great. When’s good for you?” Lynell asks.
“As soon as possible.”
“How about in half an hour?”
“Where?” D’Angelo asks.
“I figured you wouldn’t want me to choose, and I sure as hell don’t want you to choose,” Lynell says. “So, I propose a solution: neither of us pick where we meet.”
D’Angelo pauses and says, “I trust your people even less than you.”
That’s Daniel’s cue. He leans closer to the phone and says, “Ms. D’Angelo, this is Daniel Carter, Lynell’s husband.”
Silence. Followed by a car horn. Then, “I wasn’t aware of your presence, Mr. Carter.”
“Call me Daniel.”
“Daniel, is there anyone else?”
“No. You might not know me, but I fought with the rebels eight years ago.”
“I know,” D’Angelo says.
“Lynell’s new position doesn’t change my beliefs,” Daniel says. “I knew of you and your wife. We believed in you. So, maybe you can’t trust my wife, but I hope you can trust that I support your cause. Yes, I’ll always put Lynell’s happiness and safety above anything else, but I believe she’d be the happiest and safest in a world without the Registration. I’m her husband, but before that, I was a rebel, and I still have rebel friends. Perhaps I can be the middleman here. I have a secure place where we can meet. That way, neither one of you have the upper hand of choosing the location.”
“This will still be a bigger risk for me,” D’Angelo says.
“A buddy of mine has been a loyal member of the Resurrection since you began. I went through him to find a meeting place. Does that help?”
“Who is he? Is he also aware of this meeting?”
“No, he’s—”
“Do you want to meet or not?” Lynell interrupts, an impatient bite to her voice. Daniel lays a hand on her forearm.
“Very well,” D’Angelo says. “Just the two of you, correct?”
“Yes,” Daniel says. Lynell pushes off the desk and starts pacing the office, leaving him to finish the call.
“I’ll be bringing my bodyguard. For security.”
“We understand.”
“Download MessengerGuard to send me the address. It’ll encrypt our messages. I’ll be there soon.”
A click signals the end of the call, and Daniel stands, blocking Lynell’s path. “Ready to meet your archnemesis?”
“So dramatic,” she says with a groan. Daniel chuckles. “Where are we going? Who’s this rebel friend of yours?”
“Tell you later. Now, let’s go. I’m driving.”