Luis experienced a moment of sheer satisfaction as he let himself out the front door. The woman was his whenever he wanted her. That was a fact.
He walked around to the back of the house and climbed into his battered truck, then he drove toward the entrance gates of the Bonar mansion.
As he drew his truck up to the wrought-iron gates, one of the guards stepped forward and waved him to stop.
Cursing under his breath, Luis recognized Cesar, the guard, the sometime boyfriend of his slutty sister, Lucia. Luis disliked Cesar intensely.
“Hello, Luis,” the man said in Spanish. “What’s goin’ on?”
Luis shrugged and told him that nothing much was going on.
“You’re working late today,” Cesar said, consulting his watch. “It’s past five.”
“I had things to do,” Luis said.
“What things?” Cesar asked.
“Things in the house for Señora Bonar,” Luis said evasively.
“You seem to be spending a lot of time in the house,” Cesar said.
“When Señora Bonar wants something, it is my job to take care of it.”
“I’m sure,” Cesar sneered.
Luis held his temper in check. Was Cesar insinuating something?
“How’s your lovely wife?” Cesar asked.
“Very well,” Luis replied.
“Give her my regards. Tell her I drop by for supper one night, your sister asks me all the time.”
“You’d be very welcome,” Luis lied, experiencing a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he was taking too many risks spending so much time in the house with Señora Bonar. But then again, why shouldn’t he? There was nobody around to stop him.
“Can you open the gate?” he said.
“You know who’s on their way home?” Cesar said, in no hurry to do anything.
“Who?” Luis asked, impatient to get out.
“Señor Bonar.”
“Sí?”
“Ah,” Cesar said, stroking his small black mustache, “here comes his car now.”
A sleek silver Mercedes drove into view.
“Pull over, allow him to pass,” Cesar ordered Luis in his most officious security guard voice.
Luis did so, staring out of his window at the approaching car. He’d never seen Señor Bonar; all the months he’d worked at the house the master had never appeared.
As the heavy gates opened, Anthony rolled down the back window of his Mercedes, glanced over at Luis, still behind the wheel of his truck, and signaled the guard.
“Who’s that?” he snapped, forever suspicious.
“One of the gardeners, Señor Bonar,” Cesar replied, standing at attention. “He’s leaving now.”
“Any problems here?” Anthony inquired.
“No problems, señor.”
“Keep it that way.”
Anthony took another look at Luis. Their eyes met for a fleeting second.
Luis experienced a full-body shiver of sheer dread. Anthony Bonar had the coldest eyes he’d ever seen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Things were not progressing the way Henry had planned. He’d wanted the girl, not the girl plus one. And the plus one could present problems he’d never even considered.
After locking Maria—or Max, as she was known—into the secure room, he’d had to decide what to do about her so-called cousin. He’d felt a strong urge to shoot him and bury him out in the woods. But that would be wrong, wouldn’t it? And Henry had no intention of ending up in jail punished for a crime he’d never meant to commit. So he’d left him in the trunk of Max’s car for a while, then later he’d driven to the outhouse in the back of the cabin, and once there he’d opened the trunk. He had not expected the cousin to hurl himself at him screaming expletives, almost knocking him to the ground.
Not quite. Henry recovered quickly, held on to his gun, and waved it in the boy’s face. That shut him up.
Henry had never realized before how powerful the threat of shooting someone could be. The gun came from his father’s collection. It was not too small, not too big, perfect for threatening purposes. He was quite familiar with guns, for when he was twelve his father had taken him on a hunting trip with several of his rich cronies. They’d flown to Canada on a private plane, then gone on an all-out killing expedition in the wilderness where his father had forced him to shoot wild boar and any other animal that moved. Henry had hated the experience, he’d hated firing the gun, then dealing with the blood and guts of the dead and wounded animals, but at least he’d learned how to handle a gun.
Once he had her cousin securely locked in the windowless outhouse with the solid oak door, he had not felt like starting his relationship with Maria. Yes, Maria—he did not care for the name Max, it was a most unsuitable name for a pretty young girl to adopt as her own. And she was pretty. Oh yes, she was very pretty indeed. Prettier than her mother, who had more of an exotic look about her. Maria’s face was softer, her lips fuller, and she had the most exquisite emerald green eyes he’d ever seen.
Henry had expected none of this—he’d anticipated that the girl would be a bitch like her mother. The surprise was that this girl could never be a bitch, he’d immediately sensed that she was very special indeed.
He knew he should go to her, assure her that everything would be all right, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Best to let things lie until the morning. Best not to rush her.
Besides, now that he had her in his power, he was strangely nervous. He wanted her to like him, and he realized that locking her up was not a good start.
He had to think of ways to change the circumstances of their first meeting. Ways to make her like him.
* * *
Saturday morning Henry heard her yelling. He was the only one to hear her, for when his father had built the out-of-the-way log cabin, he’d bought up all the surrounding land, guaranteeing complete privacy for miles around.
After his father’s unfortunate death, nobody had visited the cabin except him. Henry had a feeling that somehow or other everyone had forgotten it existed, which was fine with him because when his mother passed on it would be his anyway, and he’d been thinking that maybe he’d sell the Pasadena mansion and move to the cabin where nobody could bother him.
It occurred to him that if he was able to gain Maria’s trust and convince her what a witch Lucky Santangelo was, perhaps she would come with him—willingly the next time.
Things could have been so different if she hadn’t brought her cousin with her. Damn him! This was an inconvenience he hadn’t expected. If the cousin hadn’t been present she would have come with him quietly, exactly as they’d planned. Hadn’t they corresponded nicely on the Internet? Didn’t she know plenty about him? The fact that he didn’t look like the photo he’d posted meant nothing—she would have soon gotten used to him. He’d posted a photo of an obscure model, knowing if he’d put up a photo of himself she probably wouldn’t have come.
Henry was aware that he was not the best-looking man in the world. However, that did not mean he wasn’t a talented and accomplished actor, unlike Billy Melina, who was nothing but a pretty boy with no substance.
Henry hated Billy Melina, just as he hated Lucky Santangelo. But he didn’t hate Maria. Oh no, one look into those hypnotizing emerald green eyes and he didn’t hate Maria. Quite the reverse in fact.
During the night he’d taken Maria’s car and driven back to Big Bear, where he’d left it in the Kmart parking lot. Before doing so he’d wiped it clean of prints, feeling like a criminal, which was stupid since he was certainly no criminal. He’d also taken her laptop, which he’d discovered under the passenger seat. After that he’d driven his Volvo back to the cabin and unloaded the supplies he’d stocked up with on his way to Big Bear before the car had run out of gas.
He’d filled the fridge with food, lit a fire, and made the place as comfortable as possible. Then he’d gone to sleep on the foldaway bed in the main room. Now it was morning and h
e could hear Maria yelling to be let out.
The anticipation of seeing her again filled him with excitement. What would she say to him this morning? How would she feel? She was probably hungry and thirsty, so before unlocking the bedroom door where she was held captive, he prepared a tray with something for her to eat. A dish of cut-up fruit, a glass of orange juice, and two pieces of wheat toast. He wished he’d thought of bringing flowers, even a single rose would’ve been a nice touch.
When he opened the door he found her sitting on the floor, her ankle still manacled to the leg of the sturdy bed. He immediately noticed her ankle was red and swollen and he felt bad.
“Who are you?” she shouted, glaring at him, her expression wild and furious. “What the hell do you want with me? I hate you, you freak! Let me out of here!”
He was shocked. He hadn’t expected her to hate him. His feelings were hurt.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, carefully placing the tray on the end of the bed, determined to stay polite in spite of her nasty attitude. “Do you like fruit?”
“What am I supposed to do, grovel and thank you?” she yelled, shooting him another furious look. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“I can’t let you do that unless you promise to behave,” he said, wishing she would stop shouting.
“If you don’t let me go to the bathroom,” she threatened, “I’ll pee all over the floor.”
He didn’t appreciate vulgarity, it wasn’t right. But he had to remember that she’d been raised by Lucky Santangelo, so she obviously didn’t know any better.
“I’m trusting you,” he said, reaching in his pocket for the key to the shackle on her ankle.
“Trusting me?” she shouted. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Now she was using foul language, another habit she’d probably picked up from her mother.
He bent down and unlocked the shackle.
She stood up, quite unsteady. He took her arm and led her to the small bathroom his father had added on when he’d found the outhouse was not to his liking.
“Well,” she demanded when they reached the bathroom, “are you going to stand there watching me? Is that how you get your sick kicks?”
“I’ll wait outside,” he said stiffly.
She slammed the door in his face and he heard running water.
This was not the way he had planned things at all. His original plan was very clear. They would come to the cabin together, spend a pleasant time talking about all the things they’d e-mailed to each other, and he would have found out plenty about her mother. Only then would he have decided what his next move would be. The way things were turning out was a completely different scenario.
He wasn’t happy, and yet he wasn’t exactly sad. The girl was his. They were alone together. She was in his power, and Henry had never had anyone in his power before. It felt quite invigorating.
Then he remembered her cousin locked in the outhouse. What was he supposed to do about him? He couldn’t let him starve to death.
Perhaps he should drug him, but he hadn’t brought any drugs. Who’d have thought it would come to this?
Kill him, a little voice whispered in his head. It’s the only way.
* * *
Desperately trying not to panic, Max checked out the bathroom. There was a rusty old tub, a shallow sink, and a wooden toilet. That was it. High up was one tiny window, too small to wriggle through.
This was a crazy situation, completely insane. She’d actually been abducted! Was she dreaming? Was this some kind of out-of-control nightmare? If it was, she hoped she’d wake up soon.
Once again she wondered if Cookie and Harry had anything to do with this. Then she thought no, it was impossible.
Gingerly she climbed on top of the wooden toilet making a vain attempt to pry open the tiny window.
It wouldn’t shift, the window was totally jammed.
“Crap,” she muttered, jumping down, running the tap, and quickly peeing.
He knocked on the door. “Are you coming out?” he asked.
“I’m never coming out, you pervert,” she yelled back, pulling up her jeans.
“Then I shall have to come in,” he said, opening the door and walking in. “I should look at your ankle,” he said. “Is it sore?”
“You’re only going to manacle me again, so why bother?” she said, tossing back her long dark hair.
“Not if you make me a promise that you won’t go anywhere,” he replied, marveling at her beauty.
“You put a fucking leg iron on me,” she said accusingly. “How could you do that?”
“Kindly control your language, young lady,” he said, thinking how pleasant it would be if she would only stop swearing.
“I ain’t no lady, mister,” she answered, staring at him defiantly. “And you ain’t no gentleman.”
Taking her arm he led her back into the bedroom.
“Do you realize what you’re doing?” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve kidnapped me, forced me to come here with you at gunpoint. That’s a federal offense, mister, and when they catch you they’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”
“They’ll never catch me,” Henry said confidently, quite enjoying this exchange of words.
“Where’s Ace?” she demanded, changing tactics. “What have you done with my cousin?”
“He’s perfectly safe,” Henry said, once more shackling her ankle to the leg of the bed.
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m telling you.”
“Ha! Big deal. I bet my family is looking for me and him, so you’d better let us go, otherwise you’re gonna be in major fucking trouble.”
“You’re a very pretty girl with a very dirty mouth,” Henry remarked, pursing his thin lips. “Your mother should wash it out with soap.”
“What’re you, from another century?” she said scornfully.
He didn’t like the fact that she was so aggressively verbal. Surely she could sense that he wasn’t about to hurt her?
Surely she knew they were destined to be together?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
After an hour of sitting at the roulette table Brigette was up several thousand dollars. There was nothing like a winning streak to make a girl smile. Bobby kept running off to the crap table, then coming back to check on how she was doing.
“Roulette’s an idiot’s game—how come you’re winning?” he asked, hovering over her shoulder.
“I know,” she said, blue eyes gleaming. “I keep on putting a stack of chips on eleven, and can you believe it’s come up three times!”
“Way to go, Brig.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Didn’t realize you were such a gambler.”
“I’m not.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“Do you mind?” she said, placing more chips across the table. “You’re disturbing my concentration.”
“Don’t go losing it all.”
“No intention of doing that.”
“And don’t pick up any guys,” he added, observing that quite a few men lurking around the table had their eyes on her. It was a given. She was undeniably hot.
“Why not, Bobby?” she asked innocently, as if she were totally unaware of the kind of attention she was attracting.
“’Cause I’m the one who’s watching out for you today—after all, I am your big, bad uncle.”
“Surely you mean my little uncle,” she contradicted, grinning at him. “Let’s not forget you’re nine years younger than me, Bobby.”
“Okay, so I’m your little uncle who’s keeping a close eye on his smokin’ niece.”
“Shh … you’re messing with my luck,” she said, busily placing even more chips around the table.
The wheel started spinning. Once again her number came up. She let out a whoop of delight.
“Wow!” Bobby whispered in her ear. “A few thousand dollars certainly turns you on.”
“You’re righ
t,” she said, excitedly scooping in her winning stack of chips. “’Cause this is my money, Bobby. I didn’t inherit it from anybody. Made it all myself.”
“How about cashing in and we go get a drink?”
“I’d sooner have something to eat.”
“We can do that too,” he said. “Go on, Brig, make a move before you lose it all back.”
“If you insist,” she sighed, reluctantly pushing her stacks of chips back toward the croupier.
* * *
“I was thinking I could take you for a pizza at Spago,” Alex suggested, willing her to say yes, because how often did he get a chance to be alone with Lucky?
“Is that what you were thinking?” Lucky said, shuffling through a pile of change orders from various contractors.
“You’re finished signing, aren’t you?”
“I guess, but there’s other things I should go over,” she answered vaguely.
“Now?”
“Well…” she said, hesitating for a moment. “I suppose I could do everything on Monday when I come back.”
“Go eat,” Mooney encouraged, letting out a discreet burp. “Have fun while you’re here. Go toss a few coins in a slot machine.”
“Do I look like a slot machine kind of girl?” Lucky said dryly.
Mooney roared with laughter.
“Okay, Alex,” Lucky said. “I can always find time for a pizza.” She turned to Mooney. “Why don’t you take a break and come with us?”
“Gonna pass,” Mooney said. “Too much to do, but I’ll drive you over.”
Ten minutes later Mooney dropped them off at Caesars, where they made their way to the outside patio at Spago.
“This is a quite a coincidence,” Lucky said after they were seated. “Both of us in Vegas at the same time.” She took a long beat before adding, “You wouldn’t be stalking me, would you, Alex?”
“Sure,” he answered, quite amused. “I’m stalking you, Lucky. Got nothing better to do with my time.”
“Sending me notes too?”
“Notes?”
“‘Drop Dead Beautiful.’”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve been getting a series of notes delivered to my house. Could be an invitation to something, but Bobby thinks I should have someone look into it.”
Double Lucky Page 18
