Grace lifted the first rock. “I’ll aim for the door on the far end,” she said. “It’ll take him longer to check it out and come back that way.”
Jack looked at the door, then looked at her. “You’ll never reach that far.”
She lifted both brows and tipped her head to one side, then chucked her first stone. Jack’s head moved to follow its flight path, and when the stone clattered against the far side of the farthest door, he muttered, “I’ll be damned.”
“Go.” She gave him a shove, and even as he took off, she pegged the second rock. It hit louder than the first, and she reached for the third.
But before she could throw it, Jack was shouldering the little door open, vanishing inside. Swallowing hard, Grace pulled back to throw the third stone…but froze in place when a gunshot ripped through the gathering gray dawn and the sound of her sister’s voice screaming her husband’s name made Gracie’s blood gel in her veins.
“That’s real clever, isn’t it now?” a voice said from just behind her, close to her ear. “You got a nice arm on you, you know that?”
Instinct told her to spin, knee his groin, twist his arm and floor him. She bit the instinct back. She needed to get inside, find out what had happened to Jack, and to Hope. Maybe it was best to play the helpless victim for just a little while. At least she wouldn’t get shot the second she walked through the door…
The way Jack just did….
No! She wouldn’t let the thought linger. Stiffening her spine, she put up her hands. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” she said. She tried to make her voice unsteady and tainted with fear.
“Walk.” The gun barrel dug into her spine.
Gracie walked.
The rain had eased to a light but steady drizzle, and the clouds hung so low the air seemed to have turned gray, holding off the dawn. As she was prodded farther, Grace’s gaze fixed on the white door looming ever larger before her like some Pandora’s box waiting to be opened. She was scared to death of what was waiting on the other side. What she would see.
The man behind her shoved her nose almost into the wood, and barked out, “It’s Benny. Lemme in.”
Grace half expected the maniac on the other side to blow a hole through the door and her belly. But he didn’t. Instead the door opened, and Grace’s worst nightmare revealed itself in an ever-widening arc as the door swung slowly back.
Jack was on the cement floor, back braced against the far wall, arm crossed over his middle…but not quite hiding the blood staining his shirt.
She slid her gaze higher, meeting his eyes. They looked back at her, sharp and clear. Not dulled with pain or delirium…not until the shooter glanced his way, and then he seemed to deliberately lose focus, his eyes going droopy and dull.
Grace’s brows knit as she watched him. But she was distracted by her sister’s voice. “Oh, God, Gracie, they got you, too?”
Sliding her gaze sideways, Gracie saw Hope sitting much the same way Jack was. She looked as if her arm was broken, and there was a huge lump forming on the front of her head. She was pale and sweating despite the chill in the air.
“My sister needs a doctor,” Grace said slowly, turning her gaze back to the leader of the group. He was sitting in a dusty old swivel chair that had been forest-green once but was now faded. A desk stood to one side, big and wooden and peeling. Across his lap, he held a shotgun, and he faced the door.
“Tough,” was all he said.
“Letting her die isn’t going to do you any good,” Grace said, fighting to keep her voice calm.
“Neither is lettin’ her live.”
Grace tilted her head to one side. “A live hostage is a hundred times more valuable than a dead one, Mr. Darius.”
He shrugged. “Lucky for me, I got a live one. Thanks for coming, by the way.”
She blinked. “My goodness. You’re dumber than I thought.”
The guy behind her jerked her arm, twisting it behind her and sending a bolt of pain into her shoulder. “Watch your mouth, sweetie.”
She ignored him, talking only to the leader—Paulo Darius. “You don’t even know who we are, do you?” she asked.
“I don’t really give a damn who you are, lady.”
“Oh, you should. Because we are the daughters of the richest man in the state.”
His eyebrows rose, twin arches of pale brown, just like his hair. He looked like a prep school grad, not a drug lord. “Right.”
“My wallet’s in my pocket,” Grace said, hands at her sides again, Benny holding on to one wrist in case he felt like hurting her. “Take a look at the name on my driver’s license. Hell, if you look, I think there’s a photo of my father in there, as well. Harrison Phelps?”
“Bull.”
She shrugged. But Paulo nodded to Benny, and Benny let go of her wrist, reached around her, slid his hand into the pocket of her warm-up jacket. She could have broken his arm, slammed him to the floor and had his gun. But maybe not fast enough to avoid the one in Paulo’s lap. She glanced at Jack. He shook his head side to side so slightly it was barely a movement at all. But she got the message anyway. Not yet.
Benny had the wallet by then and, stepping back, he flipped it open. “Grace Phelps McCain.” Then he flipped through the photos. “Shoot, she wasn’t kidding. Harrison Phelps’s picture is in here.”
“Lemme see that,” Paulo snapped, coming to his feet and snatching the wallet away. He stared at the photo, the one Grace knew was of her and her father arm in arm, on her wedding day.
“So who’d you marry?” Paulo asked, leering at her. “Donald Trump?”
“No. I married a cop.” Both men swore, but Gracie rushed on. “So you can see you got yourself a solid-gold hostage in me. It wouldn’t hurt you a bit to let these other two go.”
He shook his head slowly. “Your father would pay more to get both of you back alive than he would for just one.”
“My father would give every nickel he ever earned for either one of us,” Grace said. “He’d also spend it all trying to hunt you down if you harmed either one of us…and make no mistake, Mr. Darius, if my sister doesn’t make it, he’ll blame you. He’ll never give you a dime, and he’ll die trying to make you pay.”
The man flinched. It was subtle, but she saw it.
“On the other hand, if you let her go, she can tell our father that I’m alive and unharmed, and that I’ll be returned safely just as soon as your demands are met. Hell, he won’t even tell the police he’s been contacted if Hope tells him not to. Will he, Hope?”
Hope lifted her chin just a little, and seemed to try to focus. “Daddy…would do whatever he had to, to keep us safe.”
Grace nodded hard. “Including seeing to it you had money, a safe ride out of here and a private jet to take you to wherever the hell you want to go, and anything else you might ask for.”
Benny said, “Paulo, maybe it’s not a bad idea—”
“Shut up.” Paulo paced, shotgun clasped in his hands. “How the hell would I even contact him?” He yanked his cell phone from the inside pocket of his battered suit. “You think I’m an idiot? You think I don’t know the cops have already tapped his phones?”
“Just write him a note, Einstein. Give it to my sister, and let her go. I’m telling you, my father has the clout and the money to get you out of this mess. He might be the only person who can.”
Paulo scowled. “If I let her go, how do I know she won’t just tell the cops right where we are?”
“I don’t know where we are,” Hope muttered.
“Listen, blindfold her, have Godzilla over here drive her around for a while, and drop her off at the nearest hospital. Just to be sure she lives long enough to deliver the message.”
His eyes narrowed on Grace in suspicion.
“What the hell have you got to lose?” she demanded.
Licking his lips, he seemed to give the matter a lot of thought. Then, finally, he nodded at Benny. “There’s a parts room in back. Put these two in there
, and lock it.”
“And what about Hope?” Grace demanded.
Paulo looked at Grace for a long moment, and she stared back at him. Then finally he went to Hope and crouched in front of her. “If you don’t do this exactly the way your sister said, I’m gonna kill her. You understand me? The first sign I get that you screwed me over, she dies. And I’ll hurt her, lady. And I’ll like it.”
Hope was sobbing softly. “I d-don’t want to leave you, Grace…”
But Grace was already being nudged along again by that damned gun barrel. “You’ll be okay,” she told her sister. “Just do exactly what they tell you, and you’ll be fine. I promise you that, Hope.”
“But…but…”
“I can take care of myself. You know that.”
Benny paused only long enough to kick Jack in the ribs and growl at him to get up. Jack did, doubled over and clutched his arm to his blood-soaked shirt. He walked slowly, grunting in pain with every step he took. Grace moved up beside him, and pulled his free arm around her shoulders. “Lean on me,” she told him.
He did.
She was worried as hell about him. But, God, one thing at a time. At least Hope would be all right now. Please, please, let Hope be all right now.
At the back of the place, a smaller door stood open into a room that was pitch-black and tiny.
“In you go,” Benny said.
“You’re going to take her to a hospital, aren’t you, Benny?” Grace asked. “If she dies, she’ll never deliver your boss’s note. And she’s in bad shape, Benny, I can tell. I know her, and I can tell—”
“Yeah, yeah, enough already. I’ll drop her across the street from Memorial. Now get in there, already, will you?”
She turned, looked him in the eye. “You keep her safe, and I’ll repay you a hundred times over. That’s a promise.”
He held her eyes for a moment, and she thought maybe he believed her. “Sure you will,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll see to it she’s okay.” Then he gave her a shove and she stumbled through the doorway behind Jack, into the pitch blackness. The door banged shut, and she heard the padlock snapping.
“Jack?”
She reached out a hand, only to feel his chest, strong and solid. And then he pulled her close to him, pressing her face to his neck, weaving his fingers in and out of her hair. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “My God, you’re okay.”
“But you’re not.” She felt tears threatening, and battled them for all she was worth. “Jack, you’re wounded!”
“Not so you’d notice.” Tipping her face up, he kissed her mouth, then backed up slightly. She could only see the darker outline of him, and bits of shape and shadow. But she sensed him removing his shirt and whatever he wore underneath it. “Still got that flashlight?”
“Yeah.” She pulled it out of her pocket, flicked it on and set it on a nearby shelf, so that it spotlighted her and Jack. Her gaze skimmed his unclothed chest now, damp with the rain, but not bloody. And no wounds marred his tight belly or his hard abs. “But…I saw it!”
“You saw the same thing they did—which was what I wanted them to see.” He tipped his arm toward her, and she saw the nasty, bloody gash across the forearm. “Paulo’s a lousy shot. He grazed my arm. I automatically clutched it to me, and it bled like hell. When I went down, he thought I was gut shot. I thought it was best to let him keep right on thinking it.”
“Give me your shirt,” Grace said, and when he did, she located a sleeve, used her teeth to tear it off and then wrapped it around Jack’s wounded arm, pulling it tight enough to stop the bleeding, and tying it in a knot. She sighed, not happy with the job. “It’s going to have to do for now.”
“It’s nothing, Grace.”
Grace closed her eyes slowly, finally letting the relief warm her, ease her rigid spine. “My God, I thought I was going to lose you.” Then she curled into her husband’s arms, wrapped hers tight around him and held him close. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Yeah, well you scared the hell out of me, too. When that goon reached for your wallet, I thought for sure you were gonna try something.”
“I was,” she said. “I would have, if you and Hope hadn’t been in the line of fire.”
“Thank God you didn’t, Grace. Just because your self-defense moves worked on that one bastard, don’t go getting overconfident. You got lucky. Okay? I don’t want you getting yourself killed.”
She stared up at him for a full minute before the smile finally pulled her lips upward, and then she stroked his dark hair and shook her head slowly. “We’re…going to be honest with each other from now on…right?”
“Right. But that’s changing the subject.”
“Not really.” She licked her lips, turned herself away from him and, looking down, said, “Jack, I know you wanted a real…lady. Delicate and well-bred and classy. I—I basically tricked you into marrying me under false pretenses…but…the truth is…I’m none of those things.”
Catching her shoulder, he turned her slowly. “Grace…hon, you are all those things. And then some. Don’t you ever sell yourself short.”
She took a breath and blurted the truth. “I’m a black belt in karate, and the current State kickboxing champion.”
Jack stared at her for what seemed like a long, drawn-out moment. Then he smiled. Then he laughed. Very softly, not at her, maybe, but still, it was a laugh. As if he thought it the cutest thing in the universe that his sweet delicate wife would make such a claim.
Grace rolled her eyes and turned in a slow circle, looking around the tiny room as his chuckles continued. The shelves were made of two-by-six frames, with plywood surfaces. She eyed one of the thick boards holding them up…then, with a sigh, she heeled off her running shoe, centered herself and kicked it. The board snapped neatly in two, and Jack’s laughter stopped.
She looked at him. He looked back at her, all traces of amusement gone from his face. Only astonishment stood there now.
“I’ll understand if…when this is over, if you decide you…well, you… I’m not gonna to hold you—”
“Gracie?”
“Hmm?”
He smiled slightly, came closer and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Can you do that thing you just did…to the door?”
“Of course I can. And I can do it to Paulo’s head, as well.” She turned, focused on the door, began to move, but Jack’s hands on her shoulders stopped her.
“Not just yet, hon. Let’s wait until we know Hope is safe.”
She nodded at him. “You’re right. And even when we hear Benny leave with her, she won’t be safe. Not really. Paulo could call Benny on that cell phone and order him to kill her the minute he suspects we’re up to anything.”
“Then we’ll just wait for Benny to get back. Then we’ll know Hope is out of range.” Jack put out a hand, and when she took it, he tugged her to the back of the small room, and down to the floor to sit beside him. “Might as well get comfortable, hon. It could be a while.”
CHAPTER 10
“Well, as long as we’re here…with nothing to do but wait,” Grace said softly, “maybe it’s time we talked about…our marriage.”
Jack didn’t want to talk to her about their marriage. Hell, he was scared to death to talk to her about their marriage, because he didn’t want to hear her tell him she was having second thoughts about continuing with it. But what choice did he have? Besides, maybe he didn’t actually need to be as worried as he had been. His wife obviously wasn’t the delicate flower Jack believed her to be.
“What about our marriage?” he managed to ask, sounding about as intelligent as day-old bread, he figured.
They had flicked off the flashlight to save the juice. And just a few moments ago they had heard Benny drive off with Hope. But they still had no idea when or if he’d be back. There was probably nothing to do but talk.
“I don’t know.” She sat beside Jack, her back against the wall, her shoulder pressed to his. “Tell me something, Jack, have yo
u been…happy with the way this whole thing has been going so far? I mean…happy with me?”
“Of course I’ve been happy!” He answered too fast, he knew he did. And he felt Grace shaking her head.
“No, you’re just giving me the automatic response, the answer you think I want to hear. But I don’t. I want the truth. I want you to think about it first. Have you been happy, keeping so many secrets? Thinking I was so shallow and so arrogant that I’d stop loving you if I knew you weren’t a rich prep-school grad with a six-figure income?”
He turned his head toward her. “I never thought that.”
“No?” She sounded so doubtful.
“No. Not…not exactly. It was more I thought you were too delicate to handle the truth. That it would disgust you to know the kind of violent world I lived in. The filth I wallowed in every day.”
Grace sighed deeply, reached forward to pick something up, and then placed it in his hand. A piece of the board she’d broken in two. Then she said, “Does this look delicate to you?”
“Depends,” Jack said. “How’s your foot?”
He could hear the slight smile in her voice when she replied, “Not even a twinge.” Then she took the piece of wood from him and tossed it. “I suppose it’s my fault you thought of me that way, though. At least partly.”
“Partly? More like one hundred and ten percent.”
“No way, Jack. I’m only half to blame for this mess. I may have been playing a role, but only because I thought that was the kind of woman you wanted. And I wasn’t playing…not really. I was trying to be that woman.”
Jack sighed softly. “And just how did you get the idea I wanted you to be anything but what you were? Hmm?”
She reached out to take his hand. “Mother made me dress the part, and act the part, and become the part the night of my party. She said no decent man would ever look at me twice in my jeans and T-shirts, my hair hanging loose and my face usually dirty.”
“But you didn’t believe her?” Jack said.
“Sure I did, I just didn’t care. I’d never been looked at twice by the kind of men my mother wanted for me. I liked it that way.”
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