Tara

CHAPTER NINE

  Son of a bitch.

  They had taken Tara to the guard station on the 102nd Street gate. It was a large tent, made warm by the electric heaters plugged into a generator and the cup of piping hot coffee produced from a large dispenser she was fairly certain no one had cleaned since its inception. But the park was known for its truly awful coffee, as grounds were used over and over again until there was nothing left but acidic bitterness. What the guards drank was definitely an improvement, if nothing else.

  One thing she noticed straight away is that everyone seemed more curious about her than angry. The gate guards had seen part of her grand escape, of course, but the Dante private security detail who’d pursued her also gave her a wide berth, and she didn’t know why. She also didn’t know where her backpack of contraband had gone, and she was more worried than ever about Stephen. Had Nick heard of her failure? If so, how would he retaliate?

  Perhaps he never intended her to succeed after all.

  The tent flap rustled, and the Dante security guards entered. Now, instead of curious, they were solemn, and Tara felt her anxiety increase. They looked straight ahead, and took up positions in all four corners of the tent. More shadows appeared on the perimeter outside, and she knew. Whoever had been summoned to deal with her had arrived. By the looks of things, ‘whoever’ equaled ‘important’.

  She was not expecting the beautiful, elegant woman who ducked into the tent and offered her a friendly, Mona Lisa smile. “Hello,” she said, moving to the coffee maker as though this were nothing more than a simple meeting. “I’m Gwen. What’s your name?”

  “Tara,” Tara allowed, her tone wary. “Listen, I can explain—”

  “I know.” The woman waited while one of the guards brought a folding chair over for her to sit in, for which she thanked him as graciously as any queen. She settled herself, wrapping her gloved hands around the paper cup, and looked Tara over. “You’re looking well enough, despite your ordeal. I take it you don’t sleep a lot? Do you dream?”

  Tara stilled. How had she known? “A few hours a night. My dreams are usually about the day my mother died.” And the strange woman who had been there, and disappeared, until Tara had begun to think she’d imagined the entire scenario.

  Gwen nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “I would hazard a guess you’re too restless to sleep much. That’s how it was with me.”

  “How it—” Now Tara was well and truly baffled. “What are you talking about?”

  Gwen glanced around at her guards. “Now is not the time, I think. But don’t worry, I’ll fill you in when the time is right. I merely meant that you are a most extraordinary young lady. And my employer is interested in the extraordinary. But first, I suppose you’d better tell me why you did it.”

  It felt good to tell someone. Gwen sat back with her awful, bitter coffee as though the cup were finest china and listened as Tara told her everything. By the end, she was growing desperate to explain, painful to articulate just how ill Stephen was, at which point Gwen held up one hand to stop her.

  “Captain? A moment, please.”

  One of the guards stepped forward. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Gwen’s demeanor had gone from soft and kind to hard and fierce in the space of a moment. A queen, indeed. “Find this Nick Santos. Find out everything about him. And then put him out of business. But first—Tara, where is Stephen now?”

  Tara clammed up. “What are you going to do to him?”

  Gwen’s expression softened. “Just how many children are there, like you? Fending for yourself, I mean?”

  “Too many,” Tara answered. “And not always by choice, but it’s better than the alternative.”

  “That’s because you haven’t seen my alternative,” she said firmly. “Captain, will you please request the presence of Doctor Hillsborough at Mt. Sinai? Let him know we’ve recovered the stolen goods but that he is needed in regards to another matter. Dismissed.”

  The man saluted smartly and marched out.

  Gwen leaned forward. “Tara, you are resourceful, intelligent, and from what I hear, something of a fighter.” She grinned. “So am I, as it happens. Moreover, you fight for others rather than yourself. These are qualities that interest me immensely. In fact, I think you might make an excellent addition to our team.”

  “Team?” Tara looked around at the guards. “You mean, your security force?”

  “Eventually, if that’s what you want. But first, you need training and education.”

  Tara shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I won’t leave Stephen. And what would happen to the others if I’m not there to look after them? Nick’s not the only parasite in the park.”

  Gwen pressed her lips together. “Tara, a doctor is on his way now to take a preliminary look at Stephen. Then, we’re taking him straight to the hospital. Naturally, you’ll come with us to assure yourself everything is on the up and up. We can talk about appropriate arrangements for the others, but I’d like you to think seriously about our offer.”

  “‘Our’?” Tara repeated.

  “Mine and Vincent Dante’s.” Gwen put her coffee aside without drinking it, though she gave no sign it wasn’t to her liking. “You’re at a crossroads now, my dear. As you get older, the restlessness and dreams will only get worse without the right training. I can provide that. Things are happening now, and are on the verge of happening, that will plunge this city into some very dark times indeed. You could make a real difference, Tara. Think about that, before you make a final decision.”

  “I will,” Tara said slowly. Could this really be the end of the park, and the shanties? Of scrounging up a fringe existence while waiting for better days that might never come?

  “Don’t answer now,” Gwen said, standing. “First, come and see what we can do for Stephen. Watch him get better. Rest, and be well yourself for the first time in what I suspect to be a very long time.” Gwen held out her hand in invitation. “Watch all you have sacrificed do the good it was meant to do.”

  Tara thought about it. Then she took Gwen’s hand, and accepted her help.

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