Suckered

by Gina LaManna

  Anthony hooked his arm through mine. “If you’re a pumpkin, I’m a pumpkin.”

  “Did you just quote The Notebook?” I looked up, a smile flickering across my lips.

  He looked mortified. “No.”

  I laughed, resting my head on his shoulder as I let him pull me into the crowd.

  “Oh, that’s perfect,” Lizabeth said from behind me. “That is just off the charts adorable.”

  “So, fill me in,” Anthony said as we got some space between us and Lizabeth. “What were you so concerned about that you decided to crowd surf at the fashion show?”

  I scanned the room, but so far, there were no signs of either Beckett or Alessandra. I waved at Lucas, the helpful policeman, and then I waved at The Chad. I also waved at the designer Leslie, though we’d never met in person. I recognized her photo, and she probably recognized me from the stage.

  “There were two people heading toward you,” I said. “A man and a woman. I can’t figure out what they are up to, but it’s something. I’m stumped.”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  I hesitated. “You’re not gonna like this.”

  Anthony paused, his back stiff. “What won’t I like?”

  I shrugged. “Most of it.”

  He sighed. “I don’t like anything to do with your work. Are you sure you have no interest in teaching school or…learning how to do accounting?”

  My stare silenced him. “There’s this guy, Beckett,” I said. “He does magic.”

  “What sort of magic?” Anthony’s jealousy was a little bit cute. He pretended to stare ahead, but his back tensed and his words were stilted.

  “The card trick kind,” I said. “He was doing a show out front in the piazza and Meg wanted to watch. He knew our names. He knew about you, he knew…”

  “He’s a hack?”

  “No, that’s the thing. His magic was really impressive. Then he kept turning up everywhere. Doing magic, leaving notes, stopping muggers in back alleys.”

  “Tell me they weren’t love notes.”

  I looked at him. “I tell you I got mugged, and you’re worried about love notes?”

  “You got away, right?” Anthony said. “If I had a heart attack every time someone threatened you, I’d have been dead years ago.”

  “The notes were…warnings. It seemed as though they were meant to help us, but I don’t know why. He says we have to work together.”

  “I don’t like it. I don’t believe in magic.”

  “Well, maybe he’s gone. He’s not here now,” I said. “He was one of the people running at you during the fashion show.”

  “And the other? The girl?”

  “She has shown up at every crime scene this week, saying she’s looking for someone. But she won’t explain more than that. I don’t think she’s behind the thefts, but she’s linked to everything somehow.”

  “You attract strange people.”

  “As long as I attract you,” I said.

  Anthony pulled me tighter, whispered against my hair. “You still have doubts?”

  His closeness, his warmth, the firmness of his chest against my back, had me blushing. Before I could respond, however, a flood of reporters spotted us and flocked toward us, hurling questions like snowballs.

  “How does it feel to be the Face of Average?”

  “You’re Average, he’s Anthony. He’s a god, so how does it feel to be the ‘normal’ one in the relationship, Lacey?”

  “Was everything a stunt?”

  “Let me get a picture of your ring.”

  “Kiss!”

  “Move over here, better lighting for the necklace.”

  “Did you change your outfit? That looks like a nighty. Can you explain?”

  I responded with a flurry of no comments, but nobody seemed to care. Thankfully, Lizabeth appeared at my side then and some of the attention deflected to her.

  My relief was short-lived.

  “There he is,” I whispered to Anthony. “The magician.”

  Beckett, dressed in his fashionable suit and tie, lingered around the appetizer table.

  “Stay next to Lizabeth,” Anthony said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I tried to stop him, but he was beyond stopping. Anthony weaved his way through the crowd, storming closer and closer to Beckett as I edged toward Lizabeth’s shoulder and nodded along with her clipped, elegant speech.

  “Lacey, how do you feel in the necklace?”

  “Great!” I said, forgetting all about my no comment pledge. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Anthony approached Beckett from the side. Nonchalant, as if looking for a drink.

  Just as Anthony’s hand grasped a glass of champagne, Beckett looked up, his gaze landing on Anthony. He didn’t look surprised. Instead, Beckett swiveled his gaze to meet mine, making long, firm eye contact over Anthony’s shoulder.

  The stare sent a chill down my spine.

  I locked eyes with him—and then the room went dark.

  Chapter 38

  Bodies jumbled next to me, elbows knocked my ribs, feet stepped on my toes. Unfamiliar cologne wafted through the air. A stranger asked if I was okay.

  Somewhere along the way, Lizabeth ripped her arm away from me. I fought to hold on, but I was shoved in the other direction. I called her name, but other voices drowned me out.

  Anthony couldn’t be more than a few feet away, but I couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. Surely he would’ve found me though, unless…my blood ran cold, remembering the look on Beckett’s face. What had he done?

  Beckett was a planner. He hadn’t arrived seconds before the lights went out on accident. Goosebumps prickled my skin, and I crossed my fingers in hopes this whole thing hadn’t been an extravagant, twisted trap.

  “Lizabeth,” I said, my hand unconsciously coming up to my neck, pressing the diamonds tight against my skin. “Lizabeth! Anthony!”

  Neither of them answered. I clutched The Miranda closer, shrinking back from the crowd.

  One or two cell phones flickered on, lighting the room in a dull glow. I strained to find Anthony, searching for a mop of black hair in a black room. It was impossible. Every male model with a champagne tray had black hair, I realized. Yet my male model with black hair was nowhere in sight.

  Thankfully, I spotted Lizabeth a few feet away from me, her eyes wide with fear. Our gazes connected, relief flooding her eyes as I launched myself through the crowd, reaching for her.

  All of a sudden, music roared to life. It swallowed the sounds of the crowd, pulsing through the dark room. The beat was loud, furious, painful to my ears. Whether this was planned or not, it made finding Lizabeth difficult. My cries hardly made it past my lips before disappearing into a loud abyss.

  I grasped at Lizabeth’s arm and missed as a large figure crossed between us, bumping me out of the way. By the time I regained my footing, the darkness had dissipated, replaced by the blinding flash of a strobe light.

  “Lacey! This wasn’t planned!” Lizabeth shouted, as I tried to read her lips. “This is not sup—” Just then, two strong hands clasped my hands behind my back. I yelled for Lizabeth, but she didn’t hear me. A shot of relief filtered through my veins as I saw Clay take one of Lizabeth’s arms, while Meg and Arnold latched onto the other.

  “Let me go!” I snarled to the dark, shadowy figure behind me. Then I shouted for help as loud as my lungs would allow.

  “Quiet!” A voice hissed in my ear, unrecognizable because of the booming beat. “Sweet dreams, Cinderella.”

  A pin pricked my arm, and the steady beat of the music turned suddenly garbled, as if I were listening underwater. The lights blurred into a slur of colors, stars bursting as my knees gave way. I collapsed to the ground, my mind still conscious, but my body not following orders.

  My assailant scooped me up, carried me outside. A cool breeze hit my face, launching me into a state of semi-consciousness. However, as my attacker murmured to the doorman something about his girlfriend overindulging in th
e champagne, I opened my mouth to argue, and found it didn’t work. I couldn’t speak, even as the guard shook his head with disgust.

  “Always one of ’em,” the guard grunted. “You’d think they’d know their limits. Need a cab?”

  “Nah, my car’s around the corner.”

  I tried to shout but my tongue was a pile of cotton, my lips frozen. The only sound was a muffled gurgle.

  “Shh, babe,” he said. “We’ll get you home in no time.”

  Struggling to raise a hand, to alert the doorman that all was not well, I used my last ounce of strength to shout for help. It still didn’t work.

  When he turned the corner, leading us into a back alley, there was nothing except darkness. Realization hit hard. Nobody was coming to save me this time.

  As the dark of the alley grew still blacker, my mind joined in, leaving all semblance of consciousness behind as I sank into a drugged sleep.

  Chapter 39

  I woke in a feverish panic, my blood still thick with whatever substance had knocked me out.

  I opened my eyes, but I found nothing.

  Music pulsed from a distance, the floor trembling slightly from the booms of the bass.

  My head pounded, swam with confusion.

  I cried out for help, but my voice didn’t emerge.

  When I rolled over, nausea came in waves.

  I didn’t last more than a minute before the blackness returned.

  Chapter 40

  “Wake up, wake up, Lacey,” someone whispered in my ear, patting my shoulder. “Please, wake up.”

  My eyes fluttered open, the feeling of nausea somewhat eased. My brain hovered on the precipice of a black, stormy ocean. This time when I spoke, I managed a croak. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

  I forced one eyelid up, peering at the face before me. The motion made me sick to my stomach. “Help…”

  “I’m here to help. I need you to stay with me.” The woman’s fingers lightly patted my cheek, the slap of skin on skin drawing me awake. “Lacey, focus. Did you see who grabbed you?”

  I moved my head to the left. Alessandra’s face grew clearer. “Why are you here?”

  “I can’t carry you, I’m sorry, I need you to walk,” she said. “Can you stand?”

  Confusion took over. What did she want from me, if not the necklace? I’d had enough with games. “Get away, just leave me alone.”

  “I’m here to help you!” Alessandra’s eyes fought frustration and tried for patience. “We don’t have time. Someone’s downstairs, and I’m assuming it’s him.”

  “Who is him?” I breathed shallow, searching gulps for oxygen. “Your partner? Beckett?”

  “Beckett? Who is Beckett?”

  “You tell me,” I said. “He was at the fashion show tonight with you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we need to leave now.”

  The confusion in her eyes looked real, but that didn’t make any sense. I cowered away from her. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “You can come with me, or you can stay here.” Alessandra stood up, hands on her hips. Sympathy gleamed in her eyes. “I’m leaving now. It’s your choice.”

  Footsteps sounded down below. Getting closer. Someone was listening.

  I swallowed, the memories of the strobe lights sending a jolt of pain through my head. The spins took over, and I closed my eyes, swirling, whirling, pulsing out of control…the prick of a needle. The beat of the music. Unfamiliar arms reaching out…

  My throat closed up, a gasp torn from my lips as I lost focus.

  “Lacey, stay with me.” Though it was Alessandra’s voice crashing me back to earth, it was her hand squeezing mine that kept me grounded. “Please cooperate. I want to help you. I’ll explain later. Everything, I promise.”

  I looked into her eyes, something about the chocolatey brown reminiscent of Anthony. The sensation of missing my fiancé was powerful. So powerful it gave me a will to fight. I clasped her hand in return.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, staggering to my feet. I used her for support. “How are we supposed to get out of here?”

  She grinned. “The same way I got in.”

  I followed her line of sight to the open window. Sounds coasted into the room on the night breeze. “I have no strength to climb down the side of a building.”

  She showed me a rope tied around her waist, a carabiner attached. “Then it’s a good thing we’re going up. I’ll attach you to me, come on.”

  A creak in the hallway sounded, freezing both of us in our places.

  Someone—the someone who’d taken me, most likely—stood outside the door.

  “Go,” I breathed to Alessandra, pointing to the window. “Leave me here.”

  “Lay down,” she instructed. “Just how you were. I have an idea.”

  I did as she told me, sprawling on the floor. Meanwhile, she moved like a cat across the room. She slid behind the door, ducking out of sight a second before the knob turned.

  The man entered the room, his face free of any mask, any hat, any disguise.

  This time, I recognized him.

  Which wasn’t a good sign, not good at all. Most criminals avoided face to face contact. Unless, of course, they intended to dispose of their witnesses.

  The Chad surveyed the room. “Who are you talking to?” he demanded, his eyes landing on me. “You’re awake, I heard you mumbling.”

  I moaned in response. I thought it was a good moan, but maybe I needed to practice because it didn’t seem to convince him.

  “I know you’re awake,” he said. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Phone call,” I murmured, my heart racing. “The phone…”

  “You didn’t have a phone on you, I checked.” He paused, his eyes flashing toward the window. “That wasn’t open before. Someone’s outside, aren’t they?”

  As The Chad stormed across the room, he took special care to land one foot on my knee, the bone crunching under his boot. I yelped in pain. He didn’t stop walking.

  I made eye contact with Alessandra. She remained shielded by the door, muscles coiled, just waiting for her chance to spring. I detected the smallest amount of pity in her eyes, and that was my last straw.

  The pain, the pity, the sympathy—all of it sent me over the edge. Even The Chad’s frosted tips made me angry. I rose to my feet, sick of playing a victim. Especially when my captor had such horrible highlights. It was embarrassing. For both of us.

  My knee burned, ligaments and joints screaming as I pushed onto my hands, dragging my body behind me. The shooting pain helped shake the fog from my drugged haze, which was both a blessing and a curse. The pain hurt like a mother, but at least I was thinking clearly.

  The Chad didn’t hear me stand. He grasped the ledge of the window, his knuckles white as he peeked out. Raising a hand to shield his eye from the moonlight, he shook his head at the winking street lamps. Normally, they’d provide a romantic glow, a soft ambiance to round out the afterparty. Tonight, they seemed to bother him.

  The thumping music had disappeared from the clubs nearby. Save for a few drunken shouts from a much younger crowd, the night was silent. I crept forward, Alessandra’s eyes following me across the room.

  When I was within striking distance of The Chad, I sucked in a breath. Unfortunately, my knee chose that moment to buckle, and I bit back a cry of pain. The cry, however, got loose of its own accord as I launched myself at The Chad—scratching, clawing, fighting with every ounce of my being.

  My fists hit warm body, and he let out an oomph as they found his stomach. My eyes watered, my throat burned as he retaliated, throwing me to the ground, choking the life from me one squeeze at a time.

  I spluttered, coughed, and saw red as his hands closed around my throat.

  Kicking out, I hit nothing but air. Then the red turned to black.

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even gasp until…

  Finally, air. Fresh, beautiful air. I inhale
d a deep gulp of the stuff, looking up to find Alessandra curled around The Chad’s back.

  The Chad’s eyes bugged wide in surprise, his cry one of absolute fury.

  He threw himself backward, taking Alessandra with him. Her body acted as a pillow, absorbing the blow as the pair crashed to the floor. Her head hit the ground with a sickening thud that twisted my stomach.

  I pushed myself up, my voice a wisp of a cry, tortured by the ghosts of his fingers still around my neck. Somehow, the necklace remained fastened tight to my throat. Clay hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d reinforced the clasp on this thing.

  I lunged for The Chad, catching him off guard as I reached for his wrist. I caught a glimpse of the time—eleven forty-five.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I warned him, holding my hands in front of me.

  Alessandra lay motionless on the floor. The Chad hovered above her, blood dripping from his lip. He looked like an animal on the hunt.

  I waved a finger at him. “This necklace has a bomb attached, and I will use it.”

  “You’ll hurt yourself first.”

  I prayed there was a small delay on it. If I yanked the necklace off and threw it at him, maybe I could dodge out of the way before it detonated. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “You wouldn’t.” A slow smile crept over his face. “Wouldn’t ruin that pretty face you weaseled into the fashion show.”

  “I didn’t weasel anywhere! I was protecting this necklace from you.” As I spoke, I watched Alessandra closely, hoping for a sign of movement. Nothing yet, except the rise and fall of her chest. At least she was breathing. I stepped closer. “Why? Why all this trouble for a few diamonds?”

  “Two point five million in diamonds.”

  “Honestly, is the money worth it?” I edged closer. “Worth all of this?”

  His eye twitched in annoyance. “If you weren’t such an eel you wouldn’t have slipped by me so often. It’s those friends of yours. They’re distracting.”

  “Meg will take that as a compliment.”

  “She’s the worst of them all.” He smirked. “But that doesn’t help you now, does it? Where is she when you need her?”