The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets)

by James, Harper

  He picked himself up and touched a wet patch on the seat of his pants. What on earth was he doing here? Keeping Diane happy, that’s what. He had no idea what he was going to do but at least he’d be able to tell her he’d been doing something. He reached the parking lot without further incident and looked all around. He’d have expected to see some police hidden out back watching the door, but the place was deserted. Maybe they didn’t know there was a back door. Hadn’t they checked?

  He crept along the line of dumpsters exactly as he had before, careful not to kick anything this time, and stopped in the same patch of deeper shadow. Memories of what happened last time he was here flooded his mind, almost made him turn and run, the fat maniac’s words still fresh in his mind: In case you forget how lucky you’ve been today. He knew he’d been lucky, knew he wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

  There was no one was having a cigarette break or taking a pee by the back door this time, just a van parked by the fire escape. The whole place was deserted. Perhaps Forrest had got the day wrong? He’d give it an hour and if nothing happened by then he’d call it a day. Even Diane couldn’t expect him to sit around waiting all night.

  Chapter 51

  GINA FROZE AT THE sound of a key being inserted into the lock. Behind her the door opened and somebody stepped into the room, switched on the light. An adrenal spike of fear went through her as whoever it was relocked the door. He wasn’t doing it because he planned on untying her, that was for sure. He had something in mind and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  ‘Tony said to come and check on you, make sure you got everything you need.’

  She swallowed hard as she recognized the mocking voice. It was the guy she’d kicked in the balls when they abducted her. He crossed the room and stood behind her. A warm cloud of testosterone and inadequate personal hygiene enveloped her.

  ‘Lucky he sent me.’ The guy sniggered obscenely. ‘Because I know exactly what you need.’

  Gina closed her eyes, tried to shut out what she knew was coming. She flinched as he pushed himself against her back, couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder that rippled through her as he slipped his hand inside her still wet blouse, ran it down over her collar bone and inside her bra, cupped her breast. His hand was like thirty-six grit sandpaper against her skin.

  She swallowed again. ‘Go ahead, pretend it’s your momma.’

  That only made him squeeze her breast even more roughly. ‘Sticks and stones. Besides, you’re gonna have to get some new lines. You used that one already. And it wasn’t funny the first time.’

  He pushed himself tighter into her and she tried not to think about the hardness in the front of his jeans. Then he pulled his hand out of her bra and came around to stand in front of her.

  ‘Let’s get those wet clothes off you. Don’t want you to catch a chill.’

  He undid the buttons on her blouse one by one and pulled it back over her shoulders, exposing her breasts through the sheer fabric of her bra. He hunkered down in front of her and pushed his face into hers, the same smell of stale cigarettes on his breath as before, making her want to retch.

  But it was too good an opportunity to miss. She spat full in his stupid, leering face. He jerked away from her as if she’d stuck a cattle prod in his eye. He straightened up and backhanded her across the face, sending her and the chair flying across the room.

  The back of her head smacked into the hard, concrete floor and her eyes went out of focus. By the time her vision cleared, he was standing over her, something cruel and predatory in his face.

  She’d never felt so vulnerable, lying with her legs taped to the chair legs, exposed to his leering gaze through the empty hole in the seat. He put the tip of his boot between her legs and pushed it into her. She couldn’t stop the sudden intake of breath and hated herself for being so weak. It was exactly what he was hoping for. He stepped back and began to unbuckle his belt, but then his eyes flicked away from hers to something lying on the floor.

  His hands froze on the buckle. The sick grin on his lips grew wider and she knew what he’d seen. She didn’t need to look, every nerve ending in her body screamed it at her. He bent and took hold of the chair back, heaved her and the chair upright and set them straight on the floor.

  ‘We’ll see how smart that mouth of yours is,’ he spat and bent to pick up the blowtorch D’Amato had dropped earlier.

  Gina stared in horror as he turned on the gas and ignited it, the evil blue flame jumping to life. This guy was different, she knew that somehow, knew it on some deeper, primeval level. Something was broken inside of him. She forced herself to hold his malevolent stare. She wouldn’t go to pieces this time, whatever happened.

  They stared at each other as the flame hissed and spat in his hand. From the corner of her eye she saw the nozzle glowing, the orange color intensifying as it grew hotter. He broke eye contact and looked at it. Satisfied, he turned off the gas. The flame died, the hissing abruptly cut off, an eerie silence filling the room.

  ‘A nice little red ring,’ the guy said, sniggering. ‘Just like Tony said. But we don’t want to spoil that pretty face, do we? I wonder what might fit in the end of this nozzle?’

  He slipped his other hand inside her bra and ripped it away.

  Chapter 52

  DESTINY PARKED HALF A block down from the club and then linked her arm through Evan’s as they walked up to the front door. He smiled to himself and put a bit more bounce into his stride—he felt like a pimp taking an evening stroll with one of his girls so he might as well look like one. Not that Destiny looked like a hooker, of course. Not exactly dressed for church followed by Sunday lunch with his mother, but not a hooker. The bouncer smiled at Destiny and ignored Evan as he held the door open for them. Evan flicked him a quarter just to piss him off.

  Inside, everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time he was here. Destiny trembled slightly as she clung to his arm, some of her confidence in the bar slipping away. They made their way slowly across the room, not to the bar, but to a table by the main stage. It was as if every pair of eyes in the room was on them.

  They sat down at the table. Somebody had already placed an open bottle of champagne and two glasses on it. Above them on the stage one of the girls was going through her routine. Ordinarily, he would have enjoyed the prime, worm’s eye view that he was getting, but he had too much going on in his mind tonight.

  Destiny squeezed his arm and whispered in his ear, ‘I’m going to go and find Samantha. She’ll give me the drugs.’

  He nodded. ‘You’ve got the other stuff, haven’t you?’

  She leaned away from him, a look of horror spreading across her face. Her mouth hung open and she covered it with her hand.

  ‘I thought you had it,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She held his gaze for a split second, her eyes wide and staring. His heart jumped and then she cracked up.

  ‘You should see your face.’

  ‘It’s not funny, Destiny,’ he said primly, but he was smiling anyway.

  It was a stupid thing to ask. She wouldn’t have forgotten. She squeezed and shook his arm again, her smile even wider.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s in my handbag.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you want to check?’

  ‘Off you go to see Samantha.’

  He picked up the champagne and poured two glasses. ‘Chop chop. Before this warms up.’

  ***

  DESTINY FOUND SAMANTHA IN her usual spot near the rear exit.

  ‘Who is he?’ Samantha asked.

  ‘His name’s ...’

  She froze, her mouth hanging open. She suddenly realized she didn’t know what name Evan was supposed to be using. Forrest had said it was a corporate card, but corporate cards had the person’s name on them as well, didn’t they? Samantha was watching her with a hint of a smile on her thin lips. She’d hesitated too long now—she’d have to make a joke of it.

  ‘I can’t remember.’ She looked down she
epishly.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Samantha said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘He’s so good looking your mind went blank.’ She tapped her head with her finger. ‘Guys don’t expect strippers to have much up here anyway.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  Samantha was more right than she knew—her mind had gone blank, but right now, not back then. The stupid mistake had thrown her and now she couldn’t remember anything they’d planned. She’d have to make it up as she went along.

  ‘I know he’s a banker.’

  Samantha nodded and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially, rubbed her fingers together. ‘That’s the important bit.’ She frowned as something crossed her mind. ‘He’s not just a teller, is he?’

  Destiny’s jaw dropped a fraction. She hadn’t expected anyone to ask any questions.

  ‘I’m only joking. It’s a long time since you did this. You’re just a bit rusty.’

  ‘I’m so nervous too.’

  Samantha wouldn’t have any trouble believing it. She held her hand out palm downwards. They both saw it trembling.

  ‘It’s okay. A couple of drinks will calm you down.’

  Destiny couldn’t believe how nice Samantha was being. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well. The solicitous concern was unnerving.

  ‘Or do you want me to ask one of the other girls to slip the drugs into his drink for you?’

  Destiny froze. Oh God, I’ve overdone it.

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She tried to make it sound like it was a close call, but, hey, no big deal, I’ll do it myself.

  ‘You sure? You look a bit pale.’ Samantha put a friendly hand on her shoulder. It felt to Destiny as if the Grim Reaper had come for her. ‘No one’s going to mind if you can’t do it.’

  Destiny shook her head. All she wanted to do now was get away from Samantha as fast as possible before she ruined everything. ‘No. Really. ‘I’ll be fine. Really.’

  Her voice sounded desperate in her own head. Just give me the drugs.

  ‘Good girl.’ Samantha patted her arm and smiled. Smiled properly like she meant it. ‘Here, put this in your bag,’ she said and handed her a small brown envelope.

  ***

  EVAN TOOK A SMALL sip of champagne, felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, a spasm of anger rippling through him. The very last thing he needed was another threatening text from his brother-in-law. He could feel the moment fast approaching when he’d tell him to his face that he should’ve kept it in his pants. He pulled the phone out, stared at the screen uncomprehendingly for a second, his anger dropping away as fast as it had come. It wasn’t from Mitch, it was from a number he didn’t recognize, and he felt his insides turn to ice water.

  Without opening it he knew it was from Hendricks—or Hendricks’ associate. The timing couldn’t be worse. He couldn’t have these crazy thoughts going through his mind while he played his part, pretended to be drugged. But he knew he would have to open it anyway. Not opening it would be worse. The not knowing would torment him, destroy any chance of him concentrating.

  A shiver ran down his neck, a strange premonition, a feeling that he was being watched—almost as if the person who sent the text was sitting behind him, had chosen this exact moment to send it. How else had they known when to stop emailing, start texting?

  He resisted the urge to look round and opened the text.

  You were so close.

  He bit down on his tongue, closed his eyes. It took every ounce of self-control to keep his fingers still, stop himself from shooting off a knee-jerk reply.

  Fuck off, Hendricks, you sick bastard.

  In his mind’s eye he saw all the messages as if they were laid out before him, the complete sequence of Hendricks’ carefully crafted psychological assault.

  I know where she is.

  Nobody found the second level.

  Shame Faulkner burned down the barns. Now you’ll never know.

  You were so close.

  He wished now he hadn’t held anything back from Guillory, had told her about Hendricks’ insinuations about a deeper basement level. What the hell had he been thinking? He couldn’t wait to get this over with now, before the not knowing drove him crazy.

  Worse than that, it made him question why he was so desperate to know the truth. Was it because he still wanted Sarah back, even after all these years? Or was it because he needed to move on—needed to be set free from his self-imposed exile from the rest of the human race?

  Hendricks would never know the ally he had in Evan himself in his quest for revenge.

  A burst of sudden laughter from the table next to him made him flinch, snapped him out of it, the words fading to blackness. He opened his eyes, took a few deep breaths through his nose, drew the oxygen deep into his lungs. Destiny was on her way back to the table. He forced the grimace off his face, willed it into some semblance of normalcy, tried to flush his mind clear and empty while he waited for her to join him.

  ***

  HER FACE WAS ASHEN when she got back to the table. Her bottom lip trembled and her normally confident gait on her high heels was shaky. What the hell happened to the Destiny he sat next to in the bar, flirting with him and radiating the confidence to take on the world? There was no trace of her now.

  Evan watched her sit and hug herself tightly. It did great things for the display of her chest but wasn’t encouraging as far as the plan went. They didn’t need both of them going to pieces.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She picked up a glass and downed half of it in one mouthful. ‘Not really,’ she said and downed the rest. It hit her throat too fast and the bubbles went up the back of her nose, making her cough.

  ‘I thought you’re meant to be getting me drunk, not the other way around. What happened?’

  He sipped his own drink and watched the girl on stage while he waited for Destiny’s coughing fit to subside. His stomach rumbled and reminded him he hadn’t eaten. There wouldn’t be time for it now. He wondered if Destiny could ask Samantha to change the plan and spike a hotdog instead of his drink.

  ‘I forgot what your name’s meant to be. It was the first question she asked.’ Her eyes were moist. He didn’t know if it was the coughing fit or she was about to go to pieces. ‘It completely threw me.’

  He put his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. Plenty of people end up spending the whole night together and never find out each other’s names.’ He looked across the room to see if Samantha was watching them, but he couldn’t see her. ‘I don’t suppose anyone ever asks her hers.’

  Her shoulders relaxed a little and she managed a small smile. It made her look like a little girl—until you dropped your eyes.

  ‘So what is your name?’

  ‘Alan. I can’t remember the last name.’

  ‘Alan’s good enough. You look like an Alan.’ She gestured with her chin towards the champagne. ‘Pour me some more of that, will you?’

  He hesitated slightly.

  ‘It’s okay. They water it down anyway. That’s why it’s already open on the table.’

  He topped her glass up but didn’t have any more himself. She took another sip and put the glass down. Her bottom lip was still trembling. He leaned towards her and put his hand over hers on the table.

  ‘It’s not too late to call it all off. I can just get up and walk out. You can say I decided I didn’t like the look of you.’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. You know, Samantha just asked me the exact same thing about pulling out. I feel like I’m working for both sides here.’

  He froze.

  First Angel and now her. What were they trying to do to his nerves? Anybody else said it and he’d start to believe it. She saw the look in his eyes and put her other hand on top of his, adding to the pile in the middle of the table.

  ‘I’m not.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Honestly.’

  ‘I know.’ He didn’t know any such thing. The idea had tormen
ted him all day and it wasn’t about to dislodge itself now.

  She took a deep breath and pulled her hands away. ‘People will think we’re about to get engaged.’

  He looked around the room at his fellow patrons and said, ‘That happens a lot in here, does it?’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom. For real this time. I need to calm down and get rid of the real drugs. The way I’m acting at the moment I’d probably slip you the wrong one.’

  ‘Just make sure you flush the right one away.’

  He watched her make her way towards the back of the room. Lots of other guys did the same and a strange sense of pride filled him, but it didn’t help ease the worry eating away at him—he didn’t like the way she’d been thrown so easily. Why was she so nervous? And, however much he tried, he couldn’t get her words out of his head.

  I feel like I’m working for both sides here.

  Chapter 53

  THE GUY STEPPED IN close, the blowtorch mere inches from Gina’s exposed breast, his face a picture of twisted pleasure.

  ‘Where’s your smart mouth now? Got something to say about my momma? No, I didn’t—’

  Gina’s legs exploded into life as she thrust herself upwards as hard and fast as she could, taut muscles honed by endless nights of dancing responding like they’d waited her whole life for this moment, the cheap wooden chair strapped to her calves barely slowing her momentum. The top of her head smashed into the underside of his chin. His head snapped backwards as his jaws smacked into each other, the impact of his teeth reverberating through his whole head, his tongue half bitten through. He yowled, the sweetest noise Gina ever heard, and stumbled backwards, his arms thrown wide, dropping the blowtorch. He took a couple of unsteady steps backwards and lost his footing, the back of his head crashing into the corner of the desk behind him with a sickening, wet thud as he fell.

  She stood over him, hands tied behind her back, a chair with no seat hanging off her calves and her jeans and panties around one ankle, like some weird party game or Ivy League college hazing ritual, looking for signs of life. A trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he’d bitten his tongue, but there was nothing on the corner of the desk, no dark red blood seeping out from behind his head as it lay on the floor. He was unconscious, but he wasn’t about to die. And how long before he came around? Five minutes? An hour?