Bound To Protect (Crescent City Kings)

by Anya Summers

  She gulped air into her lungs when she spied a doorway and found it unlocked.

  Oh, thank god!

  Bracing herself, she raced inside, whipping her head around, trying to locate her brother. All she spied were rotted piles of wood and some steel bars in a pile as she glanced around.

  “Alex!” she shouted. “Please. I’m here. Don’t kill him.”

  “Toss the bag down and put your hands on your head,” a woman’s voice said from behind her.

  Sabrina did it on command. “Where’s Alex? Please, you don’t understand, he’s ill, he’s—”

  “A complete fucking retard. Yeah, I got the memo. But lucky for me, money greases a lot of wheels. Get her,” she ordered.

  Large male hands grabbed her. Sabrina struggled then, seeing her life, short as it had been, flash before her eyes. And it was the last part of it, the weeks with her loves, that had been the shortest, but the memory of those still made her sob that they’d not had enough time.

  The man holding her was stronger, and had her hands bound behind her back before she could break away.

  “Please, just tell me where Alex is. Why are you doing this?” she screamed as the man dragged her over to a metal chair and tied her to it.

  When the guy moved around to her field of vision, something clicked in her brain. “Hey, I know you. You’re the guy from the club. You’re Brett.”

  A woman dressed in a slim bright blue skirt, ivory blouse, and killer heels, moved into Sabrina’s line of sight. “It’s amazing what money can do for you. Brett loves me, don’t you, baby?”

  “I do love Carla. She rescued me, and I’m loyal. And I didn’t tell that son of a bitch Fitzgerald everything,” Brett said, moving over to the woman’s side.

  Carla laughed, and gave Brett a smacking wet kiss that made Sabrina want to vomit. She scanned the warehouse, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess and see where they had stashed Alex.

  “Can you finish your makeout session another time and tell me where the fuck my brother is? I did what you wanted. Now, where is he?” Sabrina yelled.

  Carla ended the kiss and turned cold eyes on her. In her hand was a gun. “I knew you were poor, but we could add dumb on top of that. Pity. We all can’t be intelligent, dearie. I’m sorry, but your brother isn’t here.”

  Fear struck Sabrina’s chest. Grief clawed up her throat. “What did you do with him?”

  “Nothing. We just paid one of the aides to record his voice. And once we got what we needed from Timothy, we tied up that loose end,” Carla said with an unconcerned shrug, just as another man joined them.

  “I see she made it,” the unknown man said. Sabrina thought it odd that he was in a suit. They were in an abandoned warehouse, not at a garden party.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” Brett said accusingly.

  “Tying up loose ends,” Carla said, and turned the gun on the newest arrival. She extended her arm and fired without batting an eye.

  Sabrina screamed. The bullet caught the man dead in the center of his forehead. He pitched back. Carla had killed him.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Brett smacked her across the face. Stars and pain exploded across her cheek. It throbbed in agony. She had never been struck on the face before.

  “So Alex is not here? Why the hell do you need me?” Sabrina spat, and tasted blood.

  “Because I have it on good authority from Brett that Michael’s in love with you,” Carla said. “And what better way to get the money he owes me for having me arrested than to use you as a bargaining chip?”

  Dread settled in the pit of Sabrina’s stomach. Carla had thought of everything but one detail. Sabrina denied it. “Michael doesn’t love me.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Carla waved with gun in her direction.

  “Maybe you’re not, but your informant is. Our engagement is fake. We have a contract and a non-disclosure agreement. With the stuff going on at the board, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  Carla tilted her head. “And what, pray tell, was the agreed upon offer?”

  “Thirty days to act like his fiancée and at the end, I make ten million. Not a bad offer, or at least, I thought it was a good one, but you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think Michael loves me.”

  Carla tossed her blonde head back, and let loose with a booming laugh. “I knew it. That son of a bitch. If I didn’t need to use you, sweetie, I might actually like you. You’re a woman after my own heart.”

  Hardly. The woman had just gunned down a man in cold blood while her lover watched. “You might as well take the necklace and ring. He’s not going to pay for me,” Sabrina said.

  “Oh, I’m thinking he will, fake fiancée or not. I know the man well enough. It will stick in his craw that I got the better of him.” Carla rifled through Sabrina’s purse and took the two pieces of jewelry that meant something to Sabrina, because they had given her a sense of belonging with her men.

  “And what’s in it for you?” Sabrina asked.

  “A hundred million, transferred to an offshore bank account by midnight or, I’m sorry to say, you get to go take a little swim with the fishes,” Carla said with an evil grin. “Better get cozy. Brett, why don’t you gag her? And then you can fuck me. I hear you like watching.”

  Sabrina turned her head and tried to keep Brett from gagging her. But he knew all the right pressure points to induce the most amount of pain. Before she could protest or even scream, he shoved a ball gag into her mouth and muffled her ability to do more than moan and mumble.

  “And make sure she can see us,” Carla said. Her voice dripped sexuality.

  Sabrina sent up a little prayer that Brett and Carla banging wasn’t going to be the last thing she ever saw. Carla was right about one thing. She had walked right into this trap without a second thought.

  Chapter 23

  Dante strode inside the mansion perplexed, wondering where Sabrina’s car was at. She wouldn’t have gone out, would she?

  With the ring burning a hole in his pocket, he looked out back and spied the towel, the open book, and glass of tea. He touched the tea glass. It was warm. How long ago had she left this out here? It wasn’t like her to be careless with dishes, or leave things out.

  A niggle of worry took root inside his mind. Maybe she’d had to run out and see her brother. Dante called the living facility, and asked if Miss Thomas had been by to see Alex, and was told by reception that her brother had not received a visitor all week.

  Dante took the stairs up to the bedroom. Was Sabrina sick? He entered the room and looked for signs of her. It all looked normal. He entered the closet. What the hell?

  There were two packed bags. He unzipped first one, and then the other. They were jam packed with Sabrina’s clothing. Pressure built in his chest. She couldn’t be leaving them. Maybe she was just packing for them to move back to the penthouse. The woman was good at packing, at getting things together. They had talked about going back to the penthouse. But that wouldn’t be until next week sometime.

  Dante headed out of the closet and back down the stairs, calling Michael as he did so.

  Michael stepped into the foyer just as his phone started ringing. “What’s up?”

  “Sabrina’s gone. She has two bags packed in the closet.”

  “What? Are you sure? Have you looked everywhere?”

  “Yeah,” Dante said, striding into the kitchen. He needed a goddamn beer. How the fuck could she do this to them? Had she lied all along? Had she only pretended to love him?

  He opened the refrigerator door, grabbed a longneck bottle, and then shut it again. On the front of the fridge was a note in Sabrina’s handwriting. As Dante read, dread settled into the pit of his stomach. The beer slipped from his fingers and crashed to the tile floor, shattering.

  “Jesus. What the hell, man?” Michael snapped.

  Dante grabbed the note from the fridge and shoved it at Michael. “Look. She’s in trouble.”

  Michael read t
he note, and his face turned to stone. “Call Quinten. Now.”

  Dante was way ahead of him. Yanking his phone out, he was poised to call Quinten when Michael’s phone rang.

  Michael’s face darkened when he saw the number, and he put the call on speaker. “Carla. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  “Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t retaliate?” Her voice filled the kitchen.

  “I knew you were a criminal, but I didn’t think you would stoop to kidnapping. Where the fuck is she?” Michael snapped.

  “Oh, I have her here. She’s beautiful, this fake fiancée of yours. And yeah, she told me all about your little deal.”

  “What do you want?” Michael chewed out.

  “What do I want? A house in the Hamptons, a husband who didn’t cheat on me and then leave me with nothing, and a hundred million wired to a bank account that I just emailed you the details for. Have the funds transferred by midnight, or your little fake fiancée will swim with the fishes tonight.”

  “How do I know she’s even still alive?” Michael snarled.

  And then Sabrina’s voice came through the receiver. “Michael, is that you? I’m so sorry I left, I—”

  “It’s okay, babe. I’ll—”

  “That’s enough talking for now. Gag her again, Brett,” Carla said.

  Dante hissed. That fucker. The moment he got his hands on Brett, he would strangle the motherfucker for ever laying a finger on what belonged to him.

  “That’s a lot of money, Carla. You’ve not left me much time—” Michael began.

  “Don’t give me any of your excuses. Because then I will get angry, and might decide this little chickie isn’t worth it. Do you know what happens to people I have no more use for?” Carla said.

  Seething, Michael replied, “No. What?”

  “Hey Brett,” Carla said. Then a loud explosion of gunfire erupted. Sabrina’s muffled scream filtered through the phone.

  “God damn you, you fucking bitch! You hurt a single hair on her head, and they will never find your fucking body. I’ll get the money,” Michael snarled.

  “Good. I thought you would see it my way. Hush up, Sabrina, the adults are talking. I’ll call you at eleven with the address. No cops or law enforcement. I catch even the faintest whiff of police, and your bimbo dies. Got it?”

  “Yes!” Michael barked.

  “Good. Ta-ta for now.” Carla ended the call.

  “Get Quinten here. Now,” Michael said.

  “Way ahead of you… Yeah, hey Quinten, we have a situation and you’re needed here on the double,” Dante said, walking to look out the window as he explained the situation. Fear curled in his belly. Christ, she had to be so scared. Carla had killed Brett as if it were nothing. What would she do to Sabrina when she was no longer useful?

  When Dante got off the phone, he said, “We’ve got work to do. Quinten will be here with a team, he said thirty minutes, give or take. And we need to discuss the fact that upstairs, Sabrina has bags packed.”

  Michael rounded on him. “Are you fucking kidding me? She was going to leave us?”

  “Looks that way. Now, what are we going to do about it?” Dante asked, because he was never going to let that happen. She was theirs.

  “You mean besides tan her fucking hide for thinking she could leave?” Michael raged.

  “After that, you need to tell her how you feel,” Dante said. He couldn’t ever remember seeing his best friend this angry.

  Michael went white and wiped a hand over his face. “Fuck. It’s all my goddamn fault. And it’s something I will fix the moment we get her back. I never told her, and if she…” He stopped, unable to finish that sentence.

  Dante understood the fear gripping Michael, because it was doing the exact same thing to him. They hadn’t waited this long to find Sabrina, only to have her ripped from them. He clasped Michael’s shoulder in support. “We’ll get her back. And then we’ll make sure she knows what she means to both of us, and never gets the idea to leave us ever again.”

  “I figure a half a dozen kids should do it, and keep her busy. With annual trips to Paris, Rome, Pleasure Island, whatever she wants,” Michael vowed.

  “Agreed,” Dante said, and heard the faint sound of sirens blazing down the drive. He turned to go welcome the cavalry, so they could make preparations to rescue their girl.

  Chapter 24

  “Let’s go over it once more,” Michael said, glancing at the time on his watch. He wanted no mistakes. Not with Sabrina’s life on the line.

  “From what my team was able to assess from a flyover and thermal imaging, the perp has Sabrina located here,” Quinten said, pointing at the schematics spread out over the dining room table.

  In the time since the initial phone call, they had moved their home base operations to the penthouse. That way, they would be close to the warehouse when the call arrived. They couldn’t screw this up. Michael had already made calls today—to his attorney, to make sure that Sabrina was included in his will, and to make sure that if something happened to him and he didn’t make it out of this matter alive, he had paid for the agreement in full, because she had more than held up her end of the bargain. He still had the account he had transferred the advance into, and he’d added a little extra because he was sorry that he had put her in this position in the first place.

  But he wasn’t sorry that he loved her. Now that the penthouse was command central as they prepared for the call to come in, he and Dante had shut down both clubs for the night. And once they had Sabrina back, they would take her to the mansion for the next week.

  “She’s there, and you want me to enter here?” He stabbed a spot on the map.

  “Correct,” Quinten stated. He was already in full swat style gear.

  “I don’t like you going in alone, dude,” Dante said. “Carla’s going to try and kill you. Look at the way she offed Brett when we were on the phone.”

  “He’s not wrong. We’ll have a swat team on standby, with snipers set in position at these points: here, here, and here. That doesn’t mean she won’t get a shot off,” Quinten added.

  “Well, let’s hope she aims for the chest and the vest does the job,” Michael said, patting his chest, comforted slightly by the weight of it. If everything went south, he’d had a good run. His only regret was that he’d never told Sabrina that he loved her.

  “Call’s coming in,” one of the uniformed officers said.

  Michael glanced at his phone, at the number flashing on his screen. The room quieted as he got the signal to answer and put it on speaker. “Carla. Kill anyone else recently?”

  “Oh, you’re not upset over Brett, are you? I admit, he was a great lay, really gave it his all. But he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the socket. And in the end, he became a liability, just like Dan.”

  “You killed Dan too?” Michael asked, realizing that they were dealing with a sociopath.

  “Just tying up those loose ends. Now, about my money,” she stated.

  “I’ve left instructions with my estate manager to transfer the funds to that account at precisely midnight—upon proof of life. Mine and Sabrina’s. That’s the only way you are getting that money.”

  “Playing hardball. How’s this for a compromise? You transfer the money, and I will think about not killing your bimbo.”

  “No deal, Carla. You want the money, this is how it’s going to be.”

  Then another voice came through. “Don’t do it, Michael. It’s a trap. She’ll kill you no matter whether you pay her or not. She—”

  Sabrina’s scream blared through the speaker.

  Michael shouted, “Fine. The money will be transferred by midnight. You hurt her again, I will kill you. Do you hear me?”

  “I see we finally understand each other. Be at the address I just emailed you. Midnight. Don’t be late, or she dies.” Carla ended the call.

  Michael paced away, cursing. Dante swore and hung his head.

  “We need to move out if we’re going
to get into position in time,” Quinten said.

  “Go on down. Dante and I will be there in a minute,” Michael replied.

  Quinten glanced between them and then gave the signal to his officers. Michael waited for the officers to get on the elevator. It took two trips. But when it was finally just him and Dante, he said, “I paid Sabrina, already had the money transferred into her account. I also had my attorney update my will to include her. If something happens to me, promise me you’ll marry our girl and keep her safe.”

  Dante swore. “You’ll tell her that once we get her back. I won’t listen to your nonsense of not making it out.”

  “Dammit. I’m trying to do the right thing here. You and I know that there’s a chance I’m not walking away from this fight. And if I don’t, I need your word that you’ll take care of her. That you will help her pick up the pieces when I’m gone.”

  Dante stared, his gaze full of denial, and then he lowered his head and nodded. “I promise. We’ve had a good run. And you know I consider you my brother from another mother. Don’t die, it would wreck both of us.”

  “It’s done. The die is cast. And my only regret is that I never told her that I love her. On the bed is a note for Sabrina, should I not make it. Make sure she gets it.”

  Dante gripped his shoulder. “You’ll tell her yourself.”

  “Time’s up. Let’s go get our girl,” Michael said, and strode to the elevator. He didn’t glance around, or think how it might be the last time he ever set foot in the penthouse. His only thought was rescuing Sabrina.

  There was no room for doubt.

  Down in the garage, Quinten handed him a loaded handgun.

  “We’ll have eyes on you at all times. You’re wired up so we’ll catch everything that she says on record. My team is already getting into position. But the bulk of this rests on your shoulders. Go in, assess the situation. Use the gun if you have to—in self-defense—and stay alive. Swat will be on your heels, two minutes behind you.”