Survive the Hunt

by Diana Duncan

  “Word. Master.”

  The coast was clear, so she shinnied down the rope.

  As Zoe disappeared from Aidan’s sight, he sank to the floor. Gritting his teeth against the fire blazing in his shoulder, he slammed his good fist on the wooden boards. Infuriating woman! What were the odds she’d listen to him this time? He grimaced. About the same as him donning a sparkly tiara and becoming the tooth fairy.

  He strained to hear shouts or sounds of pursuit. Nothing. Five minutes ticked by while he scavenged supplies and started building a vicious booby trap. He needed to neutralize anyone who came for him in order to gain enough time to escape.

  When no alarm sounded, he slumped in relief. She’d made it!

  At ten minutes and counting, he cautiously began to believe Zoe had obeyed him for once and saved herself.

  After fifteen minutes, he accepted it.

  Stop thinking about her. Focus on evade and escape. He bent his concentration to one-handedly finishing the booby trap made out of broken pallets, nails pulled from the pallet boards, and barbed fishing lures.

  As he fastened the trap to the wall beside the door by lightly nailing in rubber hoses from the equipment counter, his thoughts drifted to the night before, and his body tightened. Hell, he had to live through this. He wanted the chance to really make love to Zoe ... all night long. A challenge he was definitely up for. He grinned. He’d show her a whole new meaning for the term Master.

  “Psst! SWAT!” Zoe’s whisper floated down to him.

  Real, or conjured from his fantasies?

  He looked up to see her straddling the windowsill. His heart leapt at the sight of her determined face. At the same time, his stomach clenched in fear. Balls on a hat rack! His contrary, stubborn, courageous gypsy would be the death of him. “I told you not to come back,” he growled.

  “Leave you to face the enemy one-armed and empty-handed? Yeah, that’ll happen.” She dangled the rope he’d given her down the wall. “One for all, and all that jazz. Grab hold.”

  God damn it. Argument was futile, but he tried anyway. “Go, before you get caught. You’re not strong enough to pull me up.”

  “I have the other end tied to a pickup. I’ll tow you up. And before you ask, I did a story about teenagers and the dangers of joyriding. One of the little angels taught me to hot-wire vehicles.” Her impish smile gleamed. “Your Swiss Army knife came in mighty handy for that by the way. Nobody around here locks their vehicles ... trusting bunch of crooks, aren’t they?”

  Jesus. She’d stolen a truck from underneath the noses of a gang of drug runners! Zoe Zagretti was gonna scare half a century off his life before she was through.

  His mouth slanted in a reluctant grin of admiration. Being with her was a lifetime pass to an amusement park—up, down, and plenty of screaming. Hair-raising, heart-thundering exhilaration. But, hot damn, if he survived, the thrill ride would be worth it. “You’ve got more guts than sense, sweetheart.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her smile widened. “See you on the outside.” She again disappeared from sight.

  A bold idea hit. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He quickly unbound his injured arm, stuffed the sling in his pocket, then wrapped the rope multiple times around his wrist, knotted it, and held on tight. As the rope grew taut, instead of bracing his feet on the wall and climbing, he let his arm take all his weight. Groaning and retching, sweat running out of every pore, he fought not to black out as he was winched up.

  Fuck, fuck, holy mother of fucks!

  But by the time he reached the window, his shoulder joint had completely popped back into place.

  Just as he swung a wobbly leg over the sill, the door burst open and Dave rushed inside. “What the—”

  Dave’s body crossing the threshold triggered the tripwire on Aidan’s booby trap. As the jagged wood and metal weapon swung from the wall and nailed his face, the man screamed. The shotgun flew out of his hands.

  Aidan didn’t stick around to admire his handiwork. Panting and sweaty, with black spots dancing in front of his eyes from the agony reverberating through his shoulder, he rappelled left-handed to the ground.

  He staggered, but Zoe caught him. She planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Somebody here call Uber?”

  He laughed. He would never change her. Never control her. Never own her.

  Nor did he want to.

  Her unquenchable spirit made Zoe her own, unequaled woman. The woman he loved.

  He’d let her into his heart, and would never be alone again. She helped him stumble to the truck. Shoved him inside. Since he still couldn’t quite see straight, he slid over so she could drive. “Don’t expect a tip, lady. I’m a little short.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.” She grinned. “But I accept barters.” As shouting men tore around the corner, she scrambled into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. “Gotta give my fan club points for persistence.”

  The truck bumped across uneven ground toward the one road leading out of the settlement. The posse chased them on foot.

  “They’re rabid all right.” He flexed his fingers and shook his stinging right arm as blood rushed back into circulation.

  She glanced over at him. “Hey! How’d you fix your arm?”

  “DIY orthopedics. Wound the rope around it and when you towed me up, my weight pulled it back in.”

  She cringed. “Ouch.”

  “Better than the alternative.” His shoulder ached like a bitch and a half, but his arm was quickly regaining mobility. If he had to fight, at least he now had two working hands. He tore apart the glove compartment, then groped under the seat. “Weapons?”

  “Didn’t find any. But here’s your knife back.”

  He’d just tucked it into his pocket when—

  BOOM, BOOM! Gunshots roared behind them at the same time a tall, skinny man jumped into the road ahead and stood directly in their path.

  “Ahhh!” Zoe shrieked and let up on the gas.

  “Keep your head down!” He shoved her down and grabbed the wheel. “Don’t stop!”

  “I can’t run him over!”

  “I can.” He grimly stomped his foot on top of hers, forcing the gas pedal to the floor.

  “Holy shit!” She screamed again and closed her eyes as the truck hurtled toward the man.

  At the very last second, the guy wisely leapt out of the way.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The wheel jerked and the truck swerved wildly. Fuck! One of their pursuers had shot out a tire!

  He fought the bucking wheel, but couldn’t control the speeding pickup. It skidded sideways and slammed into a tree. A hailstorm of safety glass scattered over them. Jarred by the abrupt stop, Aidan ricocheted to the floorboards. Zoe tumbled on top of him.

  Aidan untangled himself from her slender limbs. If she was hurt, he’d rip out the shooter’s intestines—and hang him with ’em. Sheltering her in a crouch, his hands quickly skimmed her body. “You okay?”

  She nodded shakily. “Yeah. You?”

  The passenger door was flung open. “Out,” a graveled baritone barked from behind the door. “Keep your hands in sight.”

  “No matter what happens, stay behind me,” he whispered in her ear. “If they take me out, run like hell.”

  Blocking Zoe with his body, hands up, he climbed out of the pickup.

  A stocky, tough-looking guy stepped into view and pointed a Beretta M-9 at his face. “Now you’ve gone and seriously pissed me off, O’Rourke.”

  Icy shock tore through his gut as he stared at the man holding them at gunpoint. The man who was supposed to be incapacitated in Mercy Hospital’s rehab facility. The man who’d hunted and tortured his brother and sister-in-law.

  The man who’d murdered his father.

  Tony DiMarco.

  Chapter 15

  7:00 a.m.

  Blockaded behind Aidan, Zoe couldn’t see anything except her cop’s broad, knotted bare back. Malignant malice thickened the air, her every instinct frozen with dread. S
he’d been scared during the past ten hours, but now she was cold to the marrow.

  The Boss had arrived.

  “Move,” the man snarled.

  Aidan scooped Zoe in front of him, and the Boss herded them through town with a gun at Aidan’s back. Trembling all over, she reached behind her and clung to Aidan’s warm, steady hand. Everyone had said the Boss wanted to talk to her ... and hurt him.

  When they reached the center totem pole, their captor barked, “Secure O’Rourke.”

  Two men lunged forward. One yanked Aidan’s hands behind his back. The sharp wrench had to hurt his sore shoulder, but her cop’s face remained stoic. A second man reached into a nearby trailered boat and grabbed a rope. They bound Aidan’s hands to a metal ring embedded in the totem pole behind him.

  Zoe pivoted to face their captor. Terror exploded into stunned horror. “Tony DiMarco!”

  The scarred, burly man dressed in camouflage fatigues and combat boots holstered his gun at his thigh and inclined his head. “In the flesh.”

  “You’re supposed to be ... how did you get here?”

  “Curiosity and the cat.” An odd gleam burned in his obsidian eyes. “You want the satisfaction of knowing, don’t ya?” He gave her the sharp, lethal smile of a predator. “Lesson one, little girl. Money is power. I can buy any fuckin’ thing I want. I’ve had inside men working at Mercy Hospital since shortly after I was admitted, including one as my physical therapist.” He tapped a large, firm bicep. “Been exercising on the sly, while taking muscle relaxants before exams so I look soft and flabby. Another of my men smuggled me out in a linen cart so you and I could keep our appointment. They’ll ensure nobody misses me for hours. Nobody knows where I am. Or where you are.”

  She dragged in a shuddering breath. Keep a clear head.

  Words were her greatest weapon. The more DiMarco boasted, the more time she bought. When DiMarco held Con and Bailey hostage, they’d discovered DiMarco’s ego overran his mouth. They’d kept him talking long enough to save their lives.

  And she’d watched Aidan talk Joe down at the hostage site. Maybe she could use some of his negotiating tactics. She wasn’t about to let Aidan die. “You seem eager to speak to me, Mr. DiMarco.”

  “Yeah, especially after I overheard your conversation outside my hospital room yesterday. You need to hear my side of the story, untainted by a fuckin’ O’Rourke.”

  Had she said anything to set him on the warpath? She struggled to remember as she assessed the man she’d researched and tailed for six months. Evil emanated from him, prickling her scalp. He was shorter than Aidan, but bulkier. Twenty or so years older, but strong and fit, all solid muscle. Plus, he was a former Black Ops assassin. DiMarco and his gang were also armed to the teeth.

  In comparison, Aidan had been on the run all night, beaten up, thrown over a cliff, and painfully injured. He’d be at a severe disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat, not to mention vastly outnumbered—and outgunned.

  She glanced at her cop tied helplessly to the totem pole. If he even got the chance to fight.

  Fear threatened to swamp her again, but she squelched it. “So, let’s talk. But be warned. You won’t get one single thing from me if you harm Aidan.”

  “Let me show you lesson number two, little girl. I saved it especially for you.” The skinny dude who’d jumped into the road sidled behind Zoe. As he forcefully grasped her upper arms, she flinched.

  Aidan growled. “Hurt her, DiMarco, and you’re gonna wish my brother had killed you quick and clean.”

  “Just a precaution. Our feisty reporter is soft-hearted and impulsive. Flaws she’ll outgrow after the right lessons.”

  Two men emerged from a nearby house holding G-Rat between them. She was relieved to see he’d outrun the bear and avoided a—so to speak—grisly death.

  G-Rat wailed, “I didn’t do nothing, Boss, I swear.” He struggled wildly as the men dragged him over to the totem poles.

  She tensed. Her relief might’ve been premature.

  When G-Rat was bound to the pole on Aidan’s left, DiMarco swaggered up to him. DiMarco’s smile sent a quiver through Zoe’s limbs. “Don’t make it worse by lying, Kent. You know how much I fuckin’ hate liars.”

  Kent gulped. “Okay, okay, I borrowed some cash after the last delivery.” He gulped again. “I ran a little short, but was gonna pay it back. I wouldn’t steal from you, Boss.”

  “No, Kent.” DiMarco patted the man’s cheek. “You won’t.”

  Kent’s face blanched. “No! No!” His terror was a living, breathing entity as he screamed and lunged, desperate to escape. “Please, Boss!”

  Nausea churned inside Zoe and sweat trickled down her spine. She glanced at Aidan for reassurance. His granite features revealed nothing, but the futile rage smoldering in his eyes made her queasy stomach cramp.

  Ignoring Kent’s sobbing pleas, DiMarco withdrew a capped syringe from his shirt pocket.

  Zoe flushed hot then cold. Goosebumps erupted on her sweaty skin. “What is that?” She fought to break free, but the man’s grip on her arms tightened. “Don’t hurt him!”

  “This is my town, little girl. My laws. A leader commands respect. Watch, and learn.”

  Oh, no! The narcissistic sociopath had brought her here to put on a “show” for the press? Did he think to win her respect with his sick power trip? “DiMarco, that’s enough! I believe you’re a powerful man. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  “It’s important for you to see this. So you’ll really understand what respect is all about.”

  “I understand! I do! Don’t hurt him on my behalf, please.” Her panicked gaze again flew to Aidan. His jaw was so tightly clenched, a muscle ticked in his cheek and the cords in his neck stood out.

  Those brown eyes tender with compassion, he shook his head at her.

  Caught in a backlash of helpless fury, she sagged against the hands holding her captive. Aidan had tracked DiMarco for years. He’d read all the case files. Knew what the man was capable of. Knew begging was futile.

  He’d seen DiMarco’s ruthlessness written in his own father’s blood.

  “Make no mistake. I’m gonna hurt him on my behalf. On behalf of satisfaction.” DiMarco popped the cap, and Zoe’s mouth went dry. What kind of painful drug was he going to shoot into Kent?

  Kent sobbed hysterically. “Please, Mr. DiMarco, I’ll pay you back!”

  “You can either be a good example, Kent ...” DiMarco’s voice was splintered ice. “Or a bad fuckin’ warning.” His black eyes glittered. “Yeah, you’ll pay me back. With interest.”

  Zoe’s head spun and spots whirled in front of her eyes. DiMarco wasn’t going to torture Kent. He was going to kill him!

  Kent’s pathetic whimpers tore through her as several men forced him to hold his arm still. DiMarco stabbed the needle into his vein, pushed the plunger.

  At first nothing happened.

  Then Kent shrieked and writhed. He convulsed. Bloody foam bubbled from his lips. Blood streamed from his nose, his eyes, his ears as he gasped for breath.

  Zoe slammed her eyes shut. This can’t be happening. Please, this can’t be happening!

  Kent’s horrible gasping shrieks lasted years. Finally faded into weak gurgles.

  Smothering silence descended.

  Weak and trembling, Zoe opened her eyes. She saw what was left of Kent hanging from the pole and retched. “How could you?” she whispered to DiMarco. “You’re a monster!”

  “I’m a king. And nobody interferes with my empire. Not even the almighty fuckin’ O’Rourkes. Which brings us to lesson three.”

  Staring into Tony DiMarco’s black, soulless eyes, Zoe saw Aidan’s death. She staggered under the brutal blow, heart pounding in her throat until it choked her. He was going to kill Aidan. The same torturous way he had Kent.

  And she couldn’t stop him.

  No one could.

  She looked at Aidan, and saw the same realization etched on his stoic face.

  Oh, de
ar God!

  She stomped her captor’s instep with her spiked heel, and he howled and released her. Shaking uncontrollably, she backed away from DiMarco until her spine was pressed to Aidan’s warm, solid body. “I’ll give you anything. Do anything you want. Anything. Just don’t hurt him.”

  “Sweetheart, no!” Aidan hissed.

  “Would you?” DiMarco watched her with glittering eyes, a snake toying with a mouse he was about to devour. “No matter how painful? How degrading?”

  Every muscle in Aidan’s body went strained and taut. “He won’t let me go, Zoe. Don’t play his sick game.”

  “If you guarantee that he’ll live, yes.” She raised her chin. Aidan had a family who depended on him, cared for him. A family who would mourn him forever. She had no one. If she didn’t make it, Aidan would see that her mother’s needs were met. “I’m the one investigating you. Hurt me instead. Kill me instead. Please, just spare him.”

  “Stop!” Aidan shouted, wrenching against his bonds. “For Christ’s sake, Zoe, don’t!”

  DiMarco smiled his lethal predator’s smile. “Your loyalty is admirable. I wonder if you’ll feel the same about O’Rourke after we talk?”

  “You can talk until Armageddon. Nothing you say or do will ever change my mind about Aidan.”

  DiMarco’s blazing irises lasered her. “You don’t remember me at all then, Francesca?”

  Zoe blinked. “Wh-what? Why did you call me by my middle name?” She shook her head. “And we’ve never actually met. Why should I remem—”

  She stared into the black, bottomless pits of his eyes, and the world tilted.

  The memory assaulted her so vividly, she staggered.

  “Francie, get in the hall closet, under these coats.”

  “No, Mommy, I’m scared.”

  “You have to stay in here, baby girl, and don’t make a sound, you hear me? Not a sound, no matter what.”

  Doors slamming. Heavy, measured footsteps. “Where is she? Where’s my little princess?”

  “At the sitter’s. Thomas, I want to talk to you about something I found today.” Rustling noises. “Where did all this cash come from?”