Rebel Without A Clue

by Carolyn Scott

  "Stop talking and move." He pressed the gun against my forehead.

  With an instinctive reaction, I pushed it away.

  He reached out and grabbed my throat. His thumb and forefinger dug into my skin, squeezing my neck like he wanted to pop my head off. Fiery pain radiated up to my skull and down to my shoulders, knifing through nerve endings and cutting off circulation. My face felt like it would explode and my throat burned with the effort to breathe. The pressure became unbearable and I thought I'd pass out from lack of oxygen or pain or just plain fear.

  I tried screaming but it came out as a strangled gargle. I clawed at his hand, ripped his skin and kicked his shins but it was no use. He kept squeezing and I thought I'd die.

  Then he stopped.

  I spluttered and nearly vomited up my breakfast. Gingerly I touched my throat and tested it for holes where his thumb and finger had been. Still intact but only just.

  Then I looked at him. Forget talking my way out of it, I wasn't dealing with the Carl Fortune I knew. The man in front of me was a sadistic, heartless murderer who'd managed to hide his true self from his friends and manipulate everyone for years. A man like that shouldn't be treated flippantly.

  "Bastard," I managed to gasp.

  His smile said it all. Killer.

  I got into the driver's seat of the sedan while he sat in the passenger side, gun still pointed at me. I didn't dare open my mouth to ask him where to drive to in case he shot my head off.

  "Take the interstate," he said.

  We drove for about an hour until the city became a distant haze. I didn't dare speak. Some people would find that amazing. After an hour, we drove through the woods and turned left onto a smaller road then kept turning onto even smaller tracks. My head was turned so much I couldn't work out if we were back-tracking or going forward. Carl told me to take the next left turn and I nearly missed it. It was hardly even a road, more like a path through the thick underbrush. I had no idea how long we'd been driving and it was too dark in the woods to tell the time of day. I switched on the lights and bent over the steering wheel to see ahead.

  I stopped when a cabin appeared out of nowhere.

  "Get out," Carl said.

  I headed for the cabin, his gun sticking into my spine, prodding me forward. Best I could see, the cabin was a rundown place with the wilderness swallowing up its doorstep. The front porch sagged and holes punctured the rotting planks. Some of the windows were smashed or missing altogether, and pieces of the guttering hung loose like half-severed limbs.

  Inside, the air smelled damp and sour. Shattered glass lay near the broken windows and the rug in the middle of the floor was so threadbare it looked like it would crumble if moved. The layer of dust covering everything would give any proud housewife a coronary.

  Fortunately I wasn't too fussy. Especially when my last few minutes could be spent there.

  The cabin consisted of a single big room with a rusty oven against the far wall, a sink next to that and a few cupboards. A small, round wooden table and two chairs, one with a broken back, made up the only furniture in the room. Apart from the front door there was one other door which I hoped led to a bathroom. I hoped even harder that Carl would let me use it before the day was over.

  He walked toward the oven and beckoned me to follow. "Kneel down." He indicated a spot in front of him.

  Oh God, he wanted me to perform oral sex on him! If he forced me, I'd bite it off.

  "This isn't sexual, Cat," he said on a chuckle. "If I liked you I would have done something about it ages ago."

  "And I would have turned you down. I don't go for liars and losers."

  He brought the handle of the gun down hard on the side of my head and I stumbled to the floor. Fuck, that hurt. Blood trickled down my cheek and I swiped it away with the back of my hand, fighting hard to keep my tears in check but not succeeding.

  "Any more crap from you and you'll find out what it's like to be fucked by a real man."

  "Yeah? Got a friend with you, have you?"

  I was ready for the hit and braced myself. Still, it didn't hurt any less. Pain ripped like fire through my head. But there were no tears the second time. Not even close. It felt like a victory.

  Carl reached into his back pocket and produced a set of handcuffs. While I was still dazed, he snapped them on my left wrist. He looped the other end through the bar that doubled as the oven door handle and towel rack, and closed it around my right wrist.

  I sat on the floor without protest. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of fighting the bonds. I figured he knew the metal bar was screwed on tight enough that I couldn't remove it.

  He smiled down at me and nodded. "I've been wanting to do that for months." He fetched a chair and placed it in front of me just out of kicking range. He sat down and folded his arms, still holding the gun. "Now, where's the key?"

  "Key?"

  "Don't even think about lying through this, Cat. I followed you to Scarletti's mother's place and I saw you leave with the box. I know you have the key and the number. So where are they?"

  "The box?" I frowned. I'd never told him what the box contained. As far as he knew for sure, it only held jewelry. "Oh, you mean the one Roberta employed me to find." I shook my head. "There was some jewelry inside, just like she said."

  He sucked in his lips, making a smacking sound. "Cat, my patience is running out. I don't want to hurt you but I will if you don't give me straight answers."

  I didn't doubt that part. The good guy skin he'd worn for so long looked thinner by the minute and the bad guy bones had begun to protrude.

  "I know Roberta really wanted you to find Lou's key and half of the account number and I know you found it but haven't given it to her. Good move, by the way. It would have been harder for me to get the key off her and Grimes."

  He meant I was the easy option. Well, fuck you.

  "Okay, I do have them but not on me. And I can't remember the number anyway. I think there was a four. And maybe a one."

  "You're lying."

  I stared straight into his eyes. "Search me."

  He did! I couldn't believe it when he got up and checked my pockets. Then he felt under my top, inside my bra, down my panties…everywhere. I wriggled and hissed and swore at him but that didn't deter him. He squeezed and pinched and poked and generally took longer than was necessary

  "Something else I've been wanting to do for months," he said as he squeezed my butt cheeks.

  When he got to my shoes, I held my breath. I'd done a good job of hiding the key and paper and there was no visible evidence that the shoe had been torn apart.

  After a few agonizing moments, he slid them back on my feet.

  "So where are they?"

  "Will has them."

  He hesitated. "No. I know you. You wouldn't give them up to anyone else."

  "It's true," I insisted.

  He stood over me and pointed the gun at my left foot. "Lie to me again and those fancy shoes you love to buy will be half the price."

  Oh boy. I swallowed the ball in my throat and nodded. "In my apartment. I left them there after the fire because I thought they'd be safe. No one would bother checking a burnt out shell."

  He stared me down and I stared right back. Sweat beaded along my hairline and I wanted to wipe it away before it formed rivulets but I didn't want to appear guilty. Everything relied on him believing me.

  "You're lying," he growled, baring his teeth.

  Christ. I blinked up at him, doing my best Audrey Hepburn impression. "I'm not! I swear, Carl."

  "You are. You always lie at least twice before you tell the truth."

  "I do?" Huh. I suppose he was right. "Only once this time. Seriously, I love my feet. I want to keep them both. I am not lying to you."

  He still studied me skeptically.

  "I swear on my father's grave. I'm not lying."

  Finally, he gave a small nod then stood. He crossed the floor to the front door, opened it and left. I heard the car star
t then roar away from the cabin.

  Sorry, Dad. You understand.

  As soon as I was sure Carl wasn't coming back, I worked on the cuffs but they were too strong. The bar wouldn't budge either. After what seemed like hours of trying and crying in pain as the metal gouged into my skin leaving bloody marks, I slumped on the floor and screamed in frustration.

  Then I screamed some more. Louder. Maybe someone would pass by and hear. But no one did. My efforts achieved a hoarse throat and a killer thirst but that was all. It was hopeless. Carl would be back soon and wanting revenge for my lie. I looked longingly at my foot and burst into racking sobs.

  Maybe if I'd just told the truth…

  My parents had always despaired at my dishonesty. Dad had told me I'd get into trouble for lying one day. Although I'd never actually seen it as lying, more like an inherent talent for acting.

  I guess my predicament could be blamed on karma.

  Please God, don't let me die. I'm too young. Get me out of here and I promise I'll be nicer, even to Tanya, and I'll give some of my shoes to charity.

  But my pleas went unanswered. Carl walked in. He looked pissed. Normally he was the calm one. The one who preferred to hibernate in his office rather than contribute to an argument. Hulking in the doorway, he looked like a gunpowder barrel with a very short fuse next to an open fire.

  "You fucking bitch! You little liar! I'll kill you!"

  He crossed the room in three enormous strides and struck me across the cheek. My head snapped back and hit the oven door with a loud crack. Everything went black for a few seconds. When my vision returned, it brought stabbing pain. I felt like I'd just had a lobotomy. Blood pounded between my ears and my head screamed in agony.

  I curled into a ball and hugged the oven, hiding my face behind my arm. I didn't dare look in Carl's direction in case he took the opportunity to inflict more damage.

  But nothing happened and eventually curiosity got the better of my fear. I looked up at him.

  And he frowned back at me. Strange. He even looked a little remorseful. Jeez, I must have looked a mess.

  "Fuck it, Cat." He stood with hands on hips and shook his head. "Don't lie to me again, okay? I don't like damaging that pretty face of yours." He smelled like he'd been drinking.

  "Then don't." Ouch. Speaking hurt. My cheek burned like it was on fire.

  "Can't. That's how it works. You lie, you get hurt and maybe even die." He shrugged.

  I closed my eyes against a wave of nausea. "Kill me and you'll never find the key and number."

  "So maybe I'll go after your mother instead. Or Gina." He grinned. "Now that could be fun."

  He would do it too. I wanted to vomit.

  "Is that what you did to Daryl Miller?" Keep talking, Cat. Keep your mind off the pain and his mind off inflicting it. "Threaten his family so he'd steal Lou's computer?"

  He laughed. "Miller did it for the money. Greedy son of a bitch."

  So I was right. Miller had been the insider, not Stankovic. Carl had merely tied up a loose end by killing him. If I gave him the key and number, I'd be another loose end.

  "Waste of time though, wasn't it?" I asked. "The computer told you zip."

  "Oh, Cat." He punched his fist into his open palm. "You're asking for it right now. Lucky I'm such a nice guy or I'd be out that door on my way to Gina's right now."

  So why wasn't he?

  Maybe because he knew Will would have heard his phone message and found Gina's car at the prison. Hopefully, he'd contacted both Mom and Gina, or maybe all three of them were looking for me. No way would Carl get anywhere near them. He probably knew that. I was counting on it.

  But I couldn't risk it anyway. I needed to keep Carl with me until I could escape or be rescued. Which meant I had to be careful not to get him angrier. Tough ask for a girl with an attitude problem.

  "Okay. I'll show you where it is," I said.

  He snorted. "Don't bullshit me."

  "I'm not. I swear. Just leave Mom and Gina out of this."

  He cocked a brow then shook his head. "I know you. You're lying."

  "I'm not! I'm not the sort of person who sells out her mother and best friend for money. You know that."

  He shook his head but not before a long hesitation. "No deal." He sat in the chair and studied me.

  We descended into silence. I tried to make myself comfortable on the hard floor under his scrutiny. He couldn't take his eyes off me. I felt sick. Or maybe that was the pain.

  "It'll be priceless," he said finally with a toss of his blond, boyish head.

  "Huh?"

  "The look on Will's face when he sees you." He shifted in his seat. "He'll want to kill me."

  "I thought you and him were buddies," I said.

  "That won't account for much. He loves you and he's hot-headed. Yep, he'd definitely kill me if he had the opportunity."

  Loves? Will? Me? No way. "What do you mean, loves?"

  He rolled his eyes. "This isn't a fucking dating service. Yes, he loves you. He made it clear when you started that if I so much as winked at you, there'd be hell to pay."

  "Really." Ooh, my head might hurt and I was freaking out about my predicament but it still felt nice hearing it. Will threatened to fire someone over me!

  "You don't take those kind of threats lightly from Nutso Knight."

  "Nutso?"

  Carl stood and opened one of the high cupboards. It was empty. He opened another and another, talking as he worked his way along. "Back in his cop days, that's what we used to call him. He was a freak. Shoot first and ask questions later. He and Forde had a reputation for beating the crap out of suspects until they confessed. It got results, but not always the right ones."

  So he wasn't talking about Will firing him—he meant, gulp, hurting him.

  "Until the day Scarface got his scar," I added.

  He opened another cupboard and smiled. "Ah, there you are. Thought I'd run out of you, Darlin'." He pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, unscrewed the top and took a long swig. "Better." He returned to his seat and nursed the bottle like a lover.

  "I didn't know you drank."

  "There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

  "No shit."

  He chuckled. "I always liked you. If it weren't for Will…"

  Thank God for Will. "Can I have some of that? It'll help with the pain."

  He checked the level in the bottle. "Sure." He put it to my lips and some of it spilled down my chin. Actually, most of it did. I hate whiskey. I spluttered and he pulled the bottle away.

  "So you going to let me go?" I held up my cuffed hands. "These are killing me."

  "If you're a good girl and get nice and drunk, I might." Did he mean I'd be easier to manage if I were intoxicated?

  He leaned forward and gave me another drink. He didn't seem to notice when most of it dribbled out of my mouth.

  "So you knew Will when he was a cop? Is that why he gave you the job?"

  He barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I knew him. He put away my brother."

  My eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

  He nodded. "He was innocent. Of that crime."

  "Which crime?"

  "Assault. He was at a bar when a brawl broke out. Because he had a history and the cops knew him, he was arrested and found guilty." He sneered. "Knight beat the crap out of him first, of course."

  "What was his history?"

  "Drugs. He made a fortune." He sounded like he admired his brother, or envied him. "But when he went down, his family suffered. I had to take over the business, but…" He shrugged. "Drugs weren't my thing."

  "Armed robbery was?"

  "Look." He leaned forward and wagged a finger at me. "It's like this. The banks have loads of money. What I stole…well, the moms and dads don't suffer. It's not really their money anymore. No one's harmed in the end."

  A bit like insurance fraud.

  Sigh. Goodbye Manolos. If I lived, I'd return them and buy something more sensible, and more like what was
actually destroyed in the fire.

  "I could have been a good thief," Carl mused. "If only I hadn't chosen the wrong partner. Scarletti was too slow and too dumb. But I've got to hand it to him, he knew when to keep his mouth shut."

  I studied the man sitting opposite me. He still looked like the same old Carl, like the boy next door with his short blond hair, clean shaved face, crystal blue eyes, and athletic body. The sort of man mothers wanted their daughters to marry. He sounded educated. He looked dependable. But the façade slipped a little with every mouthful of Jack Daniels.

  "So why work for Will if you don't like him? I don't get it. Why not cut your losses and clear out of town?"

  "Cut my losses? No fucking way. We worked hard to get that money. And Lou got it into a safety deposit box with the whole of Renford looking for him."

  "And shortly after that, my dad arrested Lou," I said, catching on. "But Lou promised to retrieve the money once he got out. You had one key each and you wrote down the number and took half each. That way neither of you could take the money and run."

  He nodded. "But he wanted to wait a while once he got out. He told me it was because the cops would be watching and we had to lie low."

  "When you visited him in jail."

  "Yeah, but it had nothing to do with the cops. Turns out it was his wife he was trying to keep it from."

  "So what's Will's agency got to do with this? Why are you working there?"

  "Ah, it's beautiful, isn't it, the way things work out? I get a job working for the company started by the man who put away my partner, and I get to work for the man who put away my brother. Will had a job opening and I needed to do something to wait out Lou's sentence. Lucky for me he was too busy to check out my references properly. Although I faked them pretty good."

  I screwed up my nose but it hurt like mad. "So you did it out of spite."

  "Of course I did it out of spite." He laughed. "It appealed to my sense of humor to work for the right side of the law and for the guy who ruined me. Call it symmetry." He had another drink. "But I like it now. Will leaves me to work alone and I get to spy on people for a living. The money's not great but it's better than unemployment benefits."