by J. P. James
“Yes, you definitely have my full attention now.”
“Good.” His voice goes serious again. Now, he just sounds unbalanced, and I don’t want a crazy dude to be in charge of what happens to Milo next. “Don Hunt kidnapped Milo Barnett from your penthouse, but I’m sure you already know that by now.”
That thug Don Hunt kidnapped Milo? Why, when he’s got no quarrel with me? Anger rushes through me in a scalding wave that thaws my fear.
I’ll kill Don Hunt with my fucking bare hands!
Ignorant of my anger, Lancaster keeps talking. “He has your sweet little toy boy in chains, and if you don’t do what I say, you’ll never see him again.”
Fucker. I’m going to kill him, right after I kill Don Hunt. My jaw flexes with each piece of filth he pitches at my family. “Tell me what you want. I’m listening.”
“Yes, listen very carefully,” Lancaster smirks into the phone. “Eight hundred million dollars.” He says each word carefully before repeating himself and then adding, “Cash.”
“Lancaster—” Rage chokes off my voice.
I don’t want to give in to this mad dog because this is Blackmail 101. Hell, a child would be more complex with his demands. Yet, if you give blackmailers what they want, they’ll never stop thinking of you as prey. As weak. As vulnerable. They won’t stop eating at you and demanding more and more until you’ve got nothing left for them to devour.
I don’t want to give Victor exactly what he wants – it would be stupid to do that – but money isn’t important right now. What’s important is saving the man of my dreams.
“Fuck it, you waited too long to give me the answer I’m after.” The laughing idiot is back in Victor’s voice. “Let’s make that a billion even. You and I both know that you’re good for it without breaking a sweat. I should make it a cool trillion, but I’m feeling generous today. Especially since, for a billion bucks, you might not get your dear songbird back. Or at least he won’t be able to sing anymore.”
Fear makes my heart drop like a stone. Oh shit, what are they going to do to Milo? The man’s laughter chills my spine, and my jaw clenches so hard I feel my teeth shift. If he, or any of his idiots, touches a single hair on my fiancé’s head, I’ll burn his world to the ground, along with everything and everyone in it.
But I don’t tell him that. He has to know that I’ll never stop hunting him down if he hurts my lover. And if he doesn’t know, he’s even dumber than I thought. My heart is rabbiting in my chest, but I fight hard for calm. Milo’s life is at stake. My life is at stake, too, because if he dies, I’m nothing.
I unclench my jaw. “Don’t hurt him, Lancaster. He doesn’t mean anything to you. He’s innocent.” My voice sounds like I’ve been chewing glass. “I’ll get you the money. I’ll just need some time.”
But patience isn’t Victor’s strong suit.
“I want that money today!” he shouts. “Don’t give me that bullshit about time. You can get a couple of billion dollars dropped off at your office by courier right now if you fucking want.” He draws in a noisy breath and keeps going. “If you want your toy boy back, you’ll have that cash to me in a couple of hours. Big bills. Unmarked. No funny business.”
“Okay, you’ll have the cash today.” It’s a lot of money to get on such short notice. Hell, it’s a lot of money to get a hold of in cash, period, but then again, it’s just money. Milo means more to me than all of the reserves I have in the bank. He mean more than anything I own or could ever dream of owning.
I swallow the thick ball of fear in my throat. “Where do you want to meet to make the exchange?”
Lancaster comes back with an answer immediately, like he was certain about how our conversation would go. “Let’s meet at that shithole place where your little bitch used to work. Playing Desires. I’m sure you remember it?”
Since the on-site shooting and the death of Milton Harmsworth’s son, the venue has been deserted. The caution tape is long gone, but business dried up in that neighborhood, and everyone left. Call it getting spooked. The area is a wasteland now, empty and dangerous. Not a single investor has had the balls to make an offer for any of the properties. Even homeless vagrants avoid that block like the plague. Yep, Playing Desires is as deserted as you can get in Manhattan.
“Come to the bar, and come alone if you value your little toy boy,” Lancaster wheezes with excitement. “I’ll have to convince Hunt to hand him over, but there’s no guarantee that animal will do what I say. After all, you know how Don is. He likes a pretty boy just as much as anyone else.”
Oh shit. Every word is like a hammer to my heart and a splash of gasoline to my slowly building fear. I forgot that Don Hunt is gay, with a predilection for handsome young men. My phone creaks in my tightening fist.
“Anyway, enough small talk,” Lancaster says airily. “See you at the drop off spot in four hours. Don’t be late. Come alone, and bring all of the money.”
The other end of the line goes dead. My entire body trembling from rage, I sit down numbly, dropping into the nearest chair. Very carefully, I darken the screen of my phone and put it in my pants pocket.
“What can I do to help, sir?” Shelly asks immediately. Horror is written all over her face, but she scrubs it clean and stands up behind her desk. “I’m at your disposal.”
Not for the first time, I’m grateful for the good people I have on my payroll.
“Get a meeting arranged with every single accountant in the building,” I tell her, trying to keep the fury inside me from spilling out. “I want them in my conference room five minutes ago.” Slowly, I take a deep breath that trembles despite my best intentions. “Please, Shelly. And thank you.”
I’m more than grateful that my voice doesn’t shake, but I’m sure it’s obvious that I’m terrified of something.
I take another deep breath, trying to channel my fear. Yes, I’m so scared that I’m vibrating right now. But god help Don Hunt and Victor Lancaster if they’ve so much as harmed a hair on Milo’s handsome head. If he dies, I’m willing to die too, and I’ll take as many of his kidnappers with me as possible.
That’s a promise.
27
Neil
Playing Desires is completely deserted. The front parking lot with its network of white dividing lines looks like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie. The tall lamps that once loomed above cars, making people feel safe, have all been broken. Shattered glass lies scattered and glittering underneath them in the still, dusky twilight.
Pieces of yellow caution tape attached one of the lamps flap in the breeze, and the door of the former piano bar place is firmly closed. A dark, wet stain that looks like dried blood spreads out from under the closed entrance and down the short cement steps.
The place is an abandoned ghost.
It’s hard to believe it’s the same place I used to come when I needed perspective about the choices I’d made. Now, it’s the place I’ve come to do the most important deal of my life.
I drive my car past the front of the dead piano bar and around to the private parking spaces out back. Unlike the front, it’s not empty here. Three massive SUVs wait, dark and still, behind the building. The trucks’ windows are too dark for me to see anyone inside, but I know they’re all occupied by at least two people each. And one of them has to be a very scared Milo.
At the thought of my man, terrified and confused, I clench my fist.
Okay. Time to get this fucked-up show on the road.
The engine of my Mercedes turns off with the touch of a button. As the silence grows, I reach over and grab my now dark phone from the passenger seat. I don’t want silence now. Silence is my chance to think. I’ve already done all of that at the office, and my choices have already been made. The information I need is stored in my head at this point.
Besides, there’s no time to step back from the brink - I’ve already committed to a course of action. With the phone in my pants pocket and my suit jacket off, I climb from the car and shut the door
. Before I can go to the back seat and collect the money, half-a-dozen goons swarm out of the SUVs and rush me with their guns out.
“Is this any way to treat the guy who’s bringing you a billion dollars?” I hold my hands up to show them I’m not armed.
None of the men answer me, not that I thought they would. They’re focused, on-task, and deadly. Kidnapping is serious business.
“Do anything stupid, and I’ll blow your brains out.” I hear a voice behind me at the same moment I feel the press of a gun at my back. The cold metal hurts like a hard rod against my kidney.
“Easy now.” I make my voice low and neutral. Unthreatening. “I’m getting the money out of the back seat, that’s all.”
One of the big bruisers in suits comes forward and thoroughly frisks me, handling my balls like they’re his own. I clench my jaw and take it. This is for Milo. This shit will all be over soon, and then I can take my man home and go invest in a better security and alarm system.
“Okay,” the unfamiliar voice says after his friend is done searching me up and down. “Nice and easy or the pretty boy is dead and you get to watch.”
Icy fear grips my guts. Slowly, I open the back door of the Mercedes and pull out the carry-on size, rolling suitcase filled to the brim with a billion dollars of my cash. Crisp hundred dollar bills, all retrieved from various banks across the city. With a thump, the case drops to the ground at my feet. The wheels roll back and forth on the pock-marked pavement before settling to a stand-still.
“It’s all there,” I say evenly. “You want to count it? It’ll take a while, but be my guest.”
One of the goons comes forward and after tucking his gun into his waistband, grabs the case and drops it down on the back of my car. I wince, thinking about the damage to the paint job. As if he’s reading my mind, he looks up at me with a smirk and jerks the case once more on top of the car’s trunk unnecessarily with a screech.
“Quick fucking around and get on with it,” the one behind me barks.
Annoyed at having his fun interrupted, the first goon opens the case and yanks the top all the way back to show what’s inside. Yep. Dozens of bills, stacked and rubber-banded in neat piles. His eyes pop out, and a smile breaks out on his face. He even spins the bag toward the SUVs, where other people are obviously keeping a close eye on the proceedings. Then static in his ear crackles, and with a grunt, he grabs the case in his beefy arms and heads toward the back of one of the SUVs. A tailgate lifts with the near-silent hiss of hydraulics.
Moments later, a man climbs out of the back of the three-row SUV. He’s wearing a dark suit like all the others, but also has glasses which give him a somewhat professorial look. The beefy guy passes Glasses the suitcase full of money and steps back and out of the way, his part in this drama apparently done.
“Move!” The guy behind me digs the gun into my back and shoves me toward Glasses guy. At the back of the SUV, Glasses flips through the stack of cash with his fingers before running the bills through a cash-counting machine.
Beefy guy watches me the whole time, his finger resting easily on the trigger. The hissing sound of cash running through the machine fills the space. Everything else is tense silence. With my hands hanging loosely at my sides, I watch the guy counting the money. I desperately want to peer into the SUVs to make sure that Milo is there, but I can’t. Not now, so I stay still and calm.
This is the biggest gamble of my life, and I can’t mess it up.
“It’s all here,” the guy in the glasses finally announces. He gives a thumbs up, and a door to one of the vehicles opens. Another thug in a suit steps out, this time with a gun drawn and pointed toward the car. Then, Milo stumbles out, nearly falling. He’s wearing a wrinkly t-shirt and jeans, but otherwise looks okay. The sight of him makes my breath catch and I can’t look away. This man is mine, and they wanted to hurt him.
Milo stumbles again when one of the thugs pushes him forward. Oh shit, there are rags stuffed in his mouth, and he lets out a muffled cry.
I growl in anger, jerking toward him and ignoring the gun digging deep into my back through my thin dress shirt. But a hand reaches out from inside the truck and steadies Milo on his feet. This time, another guy climbs out of the truck. How many of these goons are there? He doesn’t have a gun, but then again, plenty of his buddies do. He doesn’t need to have a weapon to be a danger to me and mine.
Milo.
My stomach clenches at the sight of his pale, shocked face. The rags stuffed into his mouth appear to be making it hard to breathe, and someone’s zip-tied his hands behind his back. He looks confused and disoriented, but soon, his eyes find mine.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Songbird. Don’t worry. Don’t cry. I’ll have you home soon.” I will him to hear my words although he’s clearly dazed.
Then, Victor gets out of one of the SUVs. I’d recognize this bastard from a mile away because he’s so ugly. “You know, you shouldn’t lie to the ones you supposedly love,” he says in a sing-song tune.
Lancaster looks like he just came from a spa day or a week in the Bahamas. His skin is tanned and glowing, the deep blue suit on his slim body well-cut, if a little over the top with its bold red, blue, and white pinstripe. He smiles at me patronizingly. I focus on these details, desperate to stay calm so that I don’t do anything stupid.
“I’m reassuring my fiancé,” I tell him evenly. “I’m sure that’s something even you can understand.”
“But Neil dear, you’re just giving him false hope.” Victor cracks a laugh and walks over to where Glasses has counted the money. “It never does anybody any good.”
Tears run from Milo’s dark eyes, and he moves his mouth desperately around the gag like he’s trying to tell me something. His body twitches and jerks, trying to get away from the men holding him captive, looking seconds away from a panic attack.
“It’s okay, Milo,” I tell my lover again, trying to divert the oncoming meltdown. I don’t want him to be that vulnerable in front of Lancaster. “Be strong for me, baby. Everything will work out just fine.”
Milo’s eyes clear somewhat, and his chest begins to moves up and down in a slow and deep rhythm. Atta boy. Don’t let them win.
With a growl, Lancaster shoulders aside Glasses to fondle the handle of the suitcase carrying the cash. His eyes gleam with greed. “In spite of the way people in this town talk about you, you’re not a very smart guy, Mr. Woods.” He pulls the suitcase out of the back of the SUV and stands it up near his leg. He looks like he’s ready to go on another trip to a tropical island; he just seems so damn satisfied. “You were dumb for coming here alone,” Lancaster says with a smirk. “You were dumb for trusting that weak-ass security system to keep your family safe. And you were really stupid for messing with me.”
His hand on the handle of the case, he rolls it back and forth and smirks at me some more before looking around the parking lot at the guys in suits with their guns out. Then he looks back at Milo, and finally at me again.
“Yeah, you’re definitely not as smart as people in this town say. There’s nothing stopping me from taking the cash—” He gives the suitcase handle a fond squeeze. “—and your boyfriend.” Lancaster glances at Milo like he wants to give him a fond squeeze too, but he doesn’t want to step away from the cash. “In fact, I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
He spins to the men who have Milo between them.
“Kill Woods. He’s already given us the money, and we still have the boytoy. Woods is useless to us now.”
A wide smile splits his mouth; he looks like a grinning killer clown with his overdone tan. But instead of doing what he says, the men stand still. Only their heads move to look at one of the dark vehicles that has not once opened the whole time we’ve been behind the ruin of Playing Desires.
Finally, the back door of the SUV opens, and Don Hunt climbs out. He steps on the pavement in his ten-thousand-dollar shoes like the ground offends him. One hand negligently holds a gun. The wea
pon hangs down his side along his thigh, but he’s clearly ready to use it.
“Useless is a good word,” Hunt says. He lifts the gun and looks at it, like he’s surprised it’s in his hand. Then he strolls over to Lancaster, smooth as a panther prowling his own territory, until he’s within touching distance of Victor. He presses the business end dead center in the middle of the smaller man’s chest.
As if that’s a signal they’ve been waiting for, all of the goons in suits point their guns at Lancaster too. They’re further away, but he’s a short-range target.
Lancaster’s mouth drops open as his eyes go wide with fear. “What the hell, Don? I thought we had an arrangement!”
“That’s the question I should be asking you, isn’t it?” But before Lancaster can think too hard about that, Don Hunt whips the pistol back and cracks Lancaster across the skull with it.
The gun connects loudly with Victor’s bone like the sound of gunshot, and the man drops to the ground like dead weight, his eyes wide in shock. But he doesn’t pass out. Instead, he’s blinking on the floor, looking like a gasping fish.
“I hear you’ve been stealing from me, Victor,” Don Hunt comments almost casually with a sideways look at me. Then he grabs the handle of the suitcase with the cash and jerks his head at Glasses. The man comes over and takes the suitcase, loads it into the SUV, and stands on the passenger side of the vehicle, watching everything with an accountant’s assessing gaze.
“What? I didn’t—I didn’t—” Flat on his ass and bleeding from a large cut on his forehead, Lancaster is the one dazed and confused now.
I barely hide my growl of satisfaction. All too often, Lancaster acts like and thinks that he’s the smartest one in the building. Except that he’s not, not by a long shot. He’s been stealing from Don Hunt practically since day one. It didn’t take me long to find that out, and it took me just a few seconds to call up Don Hunt to let him know.
