Mercy

by Jean Brashear

  Tansy. She would check on what happened today. After punching numbers into the phone, she listened to the ring.

  “Duncan.”

  “This is Mona Gerard. I’d like a status report.”

  “All quiet.”

  “Did she go to the park?”

  “Not long after you left, but Walker wasn’t there. She spent some time with an old bag lady, but she didn’t stay long.”

  “And no sign of him since?”

  “Not a one.”

  “So what happens tonight?”

  “You’ve said she never leaves at night, but we’ll have a man keeping tabs on the lobby, just in case. He’ll patrol outside as well.”

  “Tomorrow there will be two again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has Mr. Sanford returned?”

  “No. She’s had no visitors. Ms. Hart returned with your father and is still there, but no one else.”

  She didn’t enjoy knowing that the blond bimbo was there with her father so often, but she had no right to restrict his social life. “You’ll call me if anything at all happens?”

  The man’s voice conveyed forced patience. “We’ll do our job, Ms. Gerard. We take our work seriously.”

  “Of course you do,” she conceded. “I’ll talk to you in the morning, then.”

  “Fine.” He disconnected.

  Mona pondered the work on her desk and wished she could sweep it all into the trash and walk away. But she was nothing if not disciplined, so she picked up the top piece of paper, the final designs from the florist for her father’s celebration.

  It was better than thinking about the rest of her life.

  Lucas hovered in the shadows across the street from the delivery entrance, constantly scanning both the side and front of the building. He’d been observing for an hour, searching for any sign of the man he’d mentally dubbed Crewcut or his buddy. He hadn’t seen either outside, but once when he’d moved locations to check the building entrance, he thought he’d spotted Crewcut strolling through the lobby. Other than that, the night belonged to him and one old bum sacked out on a bench.

  Be careful, Tansy, he thought. The girl he’d once known could have made it down the stairs and into the basement without stirring the air, but there was so much he didn’t understand about her now.

  Once again he wondered just how insane he was to be doing this at all. Any of it. If the sense of foreboding would go away, he’d leave her be—but it hadn’t. It was stronger than ever. As fierce as that night so long ago, when he’d convinced Paris to turn around and go back to Sanford’s apartment on a hunch. The dread he’d felt had overpowered the lure of their schoolboy plans to sneak into a peepshow down by Times Square instead of going to the movies as Paris had gained permission to do.

  Lucas still wasn’t sure why foreboding had pressed in so hard on him that night. For whatever reason, he’d been as connected to her then as he seemed to be now, and the itch between his shoulder blades that had kept him alive in prison was eating at him again. He was afraid for Tansy, but he was sure no one would listen. He couldn’t figure out what else to do but spirit her away. Her father trusted Sanford now as he had then, from what Tansy had said this afternoon. Lucas had tried to tell Paris back then that there was something wrong in the way Sanford looked at Tansy when he believed no one was paying attention. Paris had laughed it off. Would Tansy’s sisters do the same?

  He had more in his file now, prepared from the research he’d been doing. He had a hunch, based on prison stories and a pattern of Sanford’s investments, that some of Sanford’s businesses might be fronts for money laundering. If so, Sanford had more dangerous friends than he’d guessed. But no one would listen to an ex-con over a man rumored to be up for an ambassadorship; Lucas needed aid from someone with better sources and more credibility.

  He had a candidate, a man he’d never met but whose work he’d been studying in the newspaper archives. James Fitzgerald, husband of Tansy’s sister Mona. The man had done some impressive investigations and didn’t seem to mind taking a shot at sacred cows. This sacred cow was one of the city’s premier philanthropists and Fitzgerald’s father-in-law’s closest ally, so talking to him was a risk. Lucas had held off, searching for evidence that would convince Fitzgerald beyond a doubt that Sanford wasn’t what he seemed.

  But he couldn’t wait any longer. The threat to move Tansy to Sanford’s place had blown his careful plans to hell. Once Tansy was secured, Lucas would have to seek Fitzgerald’s assistance and hope that the man felt protective of Tansy, too.

  Once again Lucas’s jaw hardened at the idea that all of them had let her come to this, had allowed her to drift into madness. He’d been a fool to buy Sanford’s assurance that Tansy would get help, but what of the rest of them? Why had they let her go so easily?

  Lucas squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, overcome, once again, by a sense of his impotence to be all that Tansy deserved. A scared seventeen-year-old had believed he’d managed to protect her before. Had accepted a stiff price to keep Tansy safe—then been betrayed. What he’d returned to find had shown him just what a fool he’d been. Why should he think he could manage any better now when he had so many strikes against him?

  For a moment Lucas wavered, ready to walk away, to hold off on this half-baked plan and determine if he was only paranoid about Sanford.

  But then an image rose, one burned into his brain for all time. Tansy, struggling on the floor of Sanford’s library, blood smeared on her pale thighs, her eyes full of horror and pleading.

  Now, just as then, he was powerless before his love for her, unable to turn away when she needed him. Then he’d been drugged and half out of his mind; now he was crippled in a different way.

  But it couldn’t matter. He’d paid a high price for failing before, but the price extracted from Tansy far overshadowed his. This time, no matter the cost, he had to make sure he didn’t fail again. He had to find a way to checkmate Sanford—

  Across the street, the delivery door opened. A slender form eased through, bright hair covered with another of the old lady scarves. She stood out on the street, waiting for him, her expression lost and scared. He could see her knuckles tight on the bundle slung over her shoulder.

  Lucas put aside his doubts, buried his fears. It was the moment to act. He emerged from the shadows. “Tansy.”

  She spun to face him, joy and relief on her face.

  He crossed the street with long, eager strides. Somehow he would make this work. He would hurdle all the obstacles in their path. He would save her, as Juliette had asked him so long ago.

  When he neared, she threw her arms around him and laughed, her smile transforming night into day. He pulled her close and swung her in a circle. In that instant, his heart was as light as the moon-shot silver of her hair. He met her gaze, his heart filling with dreams he had no right to want. When her lashes swept down, he pressed a kiss to each lid, wanting his touch to tell her words he didn’t dare say. I love you, Tansy. You are my heart.

  “Walker—” shouted a harsh voice. “Let her go. Step away. Now.”

  Lucas whirled, automatically putting her behind him.

  “Michael?” Tansy gasped. “What—”

  The old bum from the park bench was armed, and he moved too fast for an old man. Lucas had only seconds to decide.

  He shoved Tansy in front of him, searching for something to use. “Run, Tansy,” he yelled. He seized upon a nearby trash can and heaved it at the man’s head. The weapon fired. Lucas heard the bullet slam into the building just to his right. He picked up another trashcan and threw it, too, nodding in satisfaction as garbage flew high and wide and the man went down, spouting curses.

  He wheeled and ran after Tansy. He took the bundle off her shoulder, grabbed her hand and held on tight, towing her with him as he raced around the corner and into the safety of the night.

  The phone shrilled, and Mona grappled for the light. Three a.m. Good news didn’t come at three a.m.

&n
bsp; Oh, God. Not Fitz. Please, not Fitz. “Hello?”

  “Desdemona.” Her father’s voice, sounding a thousand years old.

  “What is it, Daddy? What’s wrong?”

  “It—” His voice broke. “It’s Titania. She’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Mona sat up so quickly, her head spun and her stomach rebelled. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Walker. He has her. He stole her away, my poor sweet angel. That murderer, he—” The air was filled with harsh, broken sobs.

  “Daddy, tell me what happened—” She heard voices, winced as the phone crashed on the other end.

  “Mona, this is Carlton.”

  “What are you doing there? Have you summoned the police? What the devil’s going on?”

  “Calm down. You don’t help your father this way.”

  He was right. She had to—she couldn’t—“What happened? When?”

  “About an hour ago. Walker kidnapped her.”

  “How did he get in? The guard—”

  “She left through the delivery entrance. He was waiting outside. I had a man stationed nearby, but he couldn’t get to her in time.”

  “You had a man?”

  “Your guard sat in the lobby reading a magazine while Walker kidnapped your poor sister.”

  “Why didn’t you alert me that you’d gotten someone?”

  “My input wasn’t welcomed, as I recall.”

  His superior tone grated, but she couldn’t afford that now. “What do the police say?”

  “I didn’t phone them.”

  “What? Are you insane? There needs to be a manhunt. Every second that passes without pursuit, he can take her farther away.”

  “She left on her own. The police won’t consider it a kidnapping.”

  “Well, we have to do something. We can’t just—”

  “I never said there was no search. Leave it to me, Mona. I’ll get her back.”

  “Why should we leave it to you? This is a family matter. I want to speak to my father.”

  “Your father is in no shape to talk to you. Must I remind you that your father entrusted Tansy to me, that I’m to be the executor of his estate? He has asked me to handle this, and I will do so. I have resources you can’t imagine.”

  “You have no right to interfere.”

  “No right?” He sneered. “I have a score to settle with Walker that is just as old as yours. He invaded my house, murdered my best friend’s son before my eyes, destroyed the innocence of a girl who never harmed a soul and wounded me in the bargain. Don’t talk to me about rights—if not for me, Walker would have been released years ago. I have Tansy’s best interests at heart and the resources to protect her. If you had listened to me, none of this would have happened.”

  Guilt ran roughshod over fury. Tansy, oh, sweet, too-innocent Tansy. Where was she? What was he doing to her?

  He makes me feel safe. He’s my prince.

  Oh, God. She’d been wrong. She should have let Carlton move Tansy and keep her safe. That she didn’t like Carlton wasn’t the issue. Tansy’s safety was. She was fair game, easy prey for such a man as Lucas Walker. She had fallen for the fantasy Juliette had woven. Knights in shining armor don’t exist, Tansy. They can’t keep you safe.

  Then she remembered the fear in Tansy’s eyes. Please don’t let him take me away.

  Fury fought with fear. “I’m coming over there. Daddy will need me.”

  “Your father has taken a sedative. Julie is with him. He’s better off sleeping, Mona. Wait until morning.”

  “Wait until morning? Where will Tansy be then? He could transport her anywhere—oh, God, she must be so afraid—”

  He makes me feel safe.

  “What could he have told her that would make her leave?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said, tone clipped. “Mona, I have things to do.”

  “I still think we should go to the police.”

  “I’ll handle this,” he barked. “After how you’ve botched it, don’t interfere now.” His voice slid into condescension. “Get some rest. If you want to do something, call Kat and inform her. The two of you can see your father later. Right now, I have calls to make.”

  The click rang like a gunshot.

  That bastard. Like hell she would sit, hands folded, and wait.

  She needed allies. She didn’t have the resources to fight him by herself. Who did? Who would care?

  Fitz would, but she wasn’t sure she could ask.

  Kat, then. She would be crazed over this. She’d storm their father’s apartment and hang Carlton up by his thumbs.

  But Kat was only good for passion. They required more.

  Armand. He adored Tansy, and he was as rich and well connected as Carlton. She would call Kat and have her contact Armand. They would get together and make plans.

  Mona punched in Kat’s number, not surprised when her sister didn’t answer. On the fourth ring, though, she didn’t pick up. Six rings. Eight. Ten. Mona frowned. Disconnecting, she punched in the numbers again, just in case.

  Still voicemail. She tried a text. Kat would sooner give up sex than her social life, with which her phone tried valiantly to keep up.

  Kat’s sad. Suddenly, Mona remembered Tansy’s concern. Saw again the pain and sorrow in Kat’s eyes when she had asked her about Gamble. Remembered the drawings and Kat’s unusual buoyancy the past several days.

  She hadn’t been exuberant today. A lover’s quarrel? Maybe so. Perhaps Kat had gone to Gamble’s to patch things up, but if so, Mona had no idea how to find her. She looked online, but no Gamble Smith was listed.

  She couldn’t wait until she could find Kat to act.

  Mona sat on the bed, holding the portable like a lifeline, her free hand wrapped around her middle. Her gaze fell on the picture of Fitz that stood on her nightstand, and in that moment, she wanted nothing more than Fitz’s arms around her.

  Armand had connections, but so did Fitz. He was tight with NYPD, and he loved Tansy, too. What was wrong between them couldn’t matter. He would want to know. She started to call his cell.

  But then she thought of the small life flickering inside her and stopped before connecting. How could she ask Fitz for aid and lie to him while she did? Could she, who couldn’t keep a Christmas present secret, see Fitz and not tell him that his child slept inside her?

  Oh, God. She wasn’t sure what to do.

  Then she considered her sister in the hands of a killer and knew that she wouldn’t turn down any assistance she could muster.

  Armand first. He could be helping her locate Kat. He lived closer and could get over there faster than Mona.

  “Hello?”

  “Armand, I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s an emergency. Tansy’s been kidnapped by Lucas Walker, and I can’t contact Kat. I need your help.”

  His reply was all business. “I’ll bring her to you as soon as I can. What else do you need?”

  Just like that, no questions, no doubts. “Thank you, Armand.” Mona bit her lip as her eyes burned. “I—I think that’s all.”

  “Is Fitz there with you?”

  She swallowed hard and lied. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

  “Good. I’m sure you’re frightened, but we’ll get her back, don’t you worry. Anything I have is at your disposal.”

  “Thank you.” She hung up. Took a deep breath. Dialed the phone.

  “Fitzgerald.”

  “Fitz, Tansy’s been kidnapped.” Then she burst into tears.

  “Hang on, sweetheart,” said the voice she’d loved for years. “I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

  “Thank you,” she managed. And even after he disconnected, she held on to the phone, hearing in her head the sound of that voice, clasping his words to her heart like the last fire in a cold, dark world.

  Her free hand slid over her belly, and in that moment, the life inside her seemed real as it had not before. A baby. Fitz’s baby.

  Her baby.

  The pounding on Kat’s door awoke
her. She stirred from the sofa, trying to remember exactly how she’d gotten there. Her head ached with every blow, and there was a taste in her mouth of cigarettes and old shoes.

  “Kat? Katharina, open up.”

  Armand? She glanced at the clock on her VCR. Three forty-five? What the hell was this? “Go away,” she shouted.

  Just then, it opened. Kat stood there stupidly, blinking. “Where did you get a key?”

  “I own the building.”

  “You…what?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  His eyes flashed. “Forget that. What the hell are you doing?” He grabbed her by the arms. “Mona’s been calling. I’ve been calling. Why don’t you answer your phone?”

  “I didn’t want to talk to anyone.” The reasons crowded in, and tears threatened.

  She dodged, but she wasn’t quick enough. Armand grabbed her chin, turned her toward him, studying her with eyes that saw too much. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a voice unbearably gentle.

  She wouldn’t cry. She didn’t need pity. She was just—

  Tears fell, rolling down her cheeks, wetting the hand that cupped her chin.

  “Oh, Kat,” he said softly, pulling her into his arms. He was only a few inches taller, but his shoulders were broad and he felt so warm, so strong. So safe. “I’m sorry.”

  She couldn’t speak around the ache in her heart. She laid her head on his shoulder and let him embrace her. They lingered there, Armand rocking her slightly. Kat felt everything inside her crumble. “I’m such a fool,” she cried.

  “No, you’re not. You’re a beautiful, passionate woman who leads with her heart.”

  “I kidded myself that he loved me,” she hiccupped. “I thought I loved him.” The tears were a flood now; even her nose was running. “Oh, God, leave me alone. I’m so embarrassed.” She tried to turn away, but Armand wouldn’t let her.

  She should draw back, assert her independence, but the comfort he offered was seductive. She straightened and every thought in her head vanished as she spied the unguarded tenderness that blazed from his eyes. But something else lingered in shadows. “Katharina,” he said, his voice unutterably sad. “Something’s happened.”