by Dana Marton
In hindsight… There had been other signs she’d ignored. Her breasts had been achy. They did that sometimes when she drank too much coffee, so she’d put the discomfort down to that, except, she hadn’t really been drinking more coffee than usual. And she tired more easily, which she put down to depression over her troubles with Murph.
“I can’t have a baby. I’m too stupid to live. I was pregnant for the past three months, and I didn’t even know it.” She stared, blinked, whispered, “I’m going to have a baby.”
Emma’s grin widened. “In about six months.”
“Okay. Now we seriously need to get out of here.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Her sister rolled her eyes. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
“God, you’re snarky.”
“Better than sitting here scared and crying in fear. Or worrying about that shit.” Emma nodded toward the workbench under the neon lights that Kate had been doing her best to ignore.
“Why would he hurt us?” Kate tore her gaze away and looked at her own sneakers instead. “It’s not like we have information he needs to torture out of us. Fine, we’ve seen his face. But to end that threat, all he needs is us dead.”
“A cheerful thought. He’s a psycho. Maybe, as a bonus, he’s also a sadist?”
“It’s not in his FBI profile.” Kate grabbed on to that thought with all her might.
Emma didn’t seem impressed or comforted. “Have the FBI caught him? No. They don’t know everything about him. Anyway, that bench is not even the one I’m most worried about.” She gestured with her head toward another one, in the dark shadows of the far corner, this one covered with a sheet of stainless steel.
The light above was turned off, so Kate had missed the setup until then. Five separate devices sat on the bench, some kind of electronics with wires, each about the shape and size of a brick. Her breath whooshed out of her. “Are those…”
“I think so.” Emma’s swallow was audible.
“For what?” Kate squinted, leaning as far forward as she was able, wanting to see better. “He’s planning on blowing the building?”
“He asked me how many people I thought might attend the Mushroom Festival.” Emma paled.
“Thousands.” Kate felt the blood drain out of her head too.
“Thank God you canceled Mom and Dad.”
“They are coming.” Kate’s chest was so tight, she could barely get out the words. “Because you went missing… They wanted to be here.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Murph
Instinct pushed Murph to last known location, the starting point for any missing persons investigation. He was halfway across town, heading to Hershey, where Emma’s car was found, to see if he could spot something Cirelli might have missed, by the time he changed his mind. Instincts were good, and the first instinct often proved to be right, but not always. He was so sleep-deprived, his decision-making was impacted. He hadn’t been thinking straight.
The drive up to Hershey would take an hour and a half, an hour of looking around and talking with Cirelli, then another hour and a half back. Which translated to a lot of hours away from Kate.
She was the main target. Emma had likely only been taken to torture Kate, to put her on notice. And Cirelli wasn’t an idiot; she was a damn fine agent. If there was something to see in that parking lot, in or around Emma’s car, she’d see it.
Murph turned around. Best to stay where he was and watch Broslin.
Kate didn’t want him. He’d accepted her wishes. But that didn’t mean he was going to stand by while an assassin was coming for her, while Emma was missing.
He hunted for rental cars and out-of-state license plates, faces he didn’t recognize. He discounted families, pairs of girlfriends, anyone obviously too young. Asael was a master of disguise, but it’d still be difficult for a forty-something man to look like a teenage girl.
Nobody set off Murph’s alarm. He gave up after an hour, figured he’d be better off circling Kate’s block. If everything looked all right, maybe he could catch some shut-eye there, in his pickup. At some point, Asael would make contact. Murph wanted to be in top shape when that happened.
He was driving past Kate’s house, nodding at Harper in his cruiser, when Hunter burst through the front door, talking rapidly into his phone.
His face said everything Murph most feared.
He pulled up to the curb and jumped from his truck. “What is it?” He met Hunter halfway, Harper on his heels. “What happened?”
“Can’t find Kate.”
Murph ran past him, heart pounding like a war drum. How the hell? He shouldn’t have left. “Kate!”
No sign of struggle in the bedroom, window locked. He ran to the back door. Locked. He pushed through the half-closed door of the guest bedroom.
Nothing disturbed. Checked the closed window. Unlocked.
He backed out without touching anything and ran out of the house through the laundry room, then checked the narrow space through which Kate’s home had been invaded.
Asael had come through the window, two steps to cross the hallway while Hunter had been in the kitchen, looking outside. Kate would have gone with the hitman if he threatened Emma’s life. Back out the window. Then gone.
“Fuck!”
Was Hunter freaking deaf?
Except, Murph couldn’t fully blame Hunter. Because where had he been? Driving around like an idiot.
The house on the other side of the gap stood empty. Tony Mauro was still in the hospital. Murph checked the front and back doors. Locked.
He crossed the back lawn and knocked on the sliding glass door of the back neighbor. Nobody responded. Nobody home.
The woman in the next house over waved at him through the kitchen window. She opened it with effort then stuck her head out. “Looking for the Millers?”
“Hey, Maggie. Actually, looking for Kate.” He pointed at her house. “Wonder if you might have seen her out back? Or anyone else out here?”
The woman shook her head. “Is she okay? Gabi told me what happened. Did the police find her sister?”
“Not yet. Any unfamiliar cars on your street this morning?”
“No. But I was doing laundry in the basement most of the day so far. Just came up to start making lunch.”
Murph thanked her, then ran up her driveway to the cruiser where Gabi sat behind the wheel.
She was jumping out of the car to meet him, rushing forward, oh hell dammit all over her face. “Harper just said Kate’s gone.”
“Have you seen anything? Have you been here the whole time?”
“Except for the five minutes I was in the bathroom. Maggie let me in, so I didn’t have to go far. I can’t pee in a cup.” Her voice thickened with apology and self-recrimination, with a good dose of frustration.
“Not your fault. Hunter was in the house with her. I was circling the freaking block.” Murph was so mad at himself, he was ready to blow, so he left Gabi and ran through the backyards again, back to his pickup.
He’d underestimated Asael. They all had. They’d thought, sure, the bastard always got his target, but his targets were unsuspecting civilians who weren’t expecting him and didn’t have an entire police team for protection.
If it were physically possible, Murph would have kicked his own ass. The second he knew Asael was in the US, he should have taken Kate and they should have disappeared again.
Hunter and Harper were still outside, up front, Hunter on his cell phone.
“Captain is checking traffic cam footage,” Harper told Murph.
Yes, yes, yes.
The intersection two blocks down had a camera. If they could identify Asael’s vehicle, they might be able to get a license plate reading, then put an APB out, have State Police, and everyone else, looking.
Murph jumped into his truck, yelling to Harper before he closed the door. “Tell the captain I’ll be there in ten!”
* * *
Kate
“I tho
ught I was so freaking smart.” Kate teetered on the ragged edge of despair, keeping a tight rein on her emotions to prevent tumbling over. “Have you checked for cameras in here?”
Emma didn’t respond.
Kate glanced at her, found her eyes closed, body slack against the wall, dozing. Probably hadn’t gotten any sleep since she’d been abducted.
Kate yanked at the plastic tie that held her to the pipe behind her. It held her just as securely as it had before.
Murph would know what to do.
Murph could have taken Asael out in Mr. Mauro’s laundry room. The second the hitman had been within reach.
The sad truth was, while Murph had trained Kate, she was definitely no Murph.
Had his overprotective behavior annoyed her in the past? Yes. But right then, she would have given anything to have him pop up on the staircase.
He was looking for them. When he found out where they were, he would come for them.
Murph came through. Always. That was what he did.
He’d even gone to witness protection with her.
They had made love for the first time ever that day. In his bathroom. While FBI agents were waiting in his kitchen to whisk them away.
He’d lifted her up and onto him, her back against the door. She’d reminded him of the agents.
I’ve been deployed for the past eight months, then titillated by you days on end, he’d said. It’ll only take two seconds.
Words every woman wants to hear. She’d laughed.
He was inside her so deep they weren’t separate entities anymore. They were welded together.
And they stayed together. Until her attachment issues and pregnancy hormones messed with her head and she pushed him away.
Once Kate got herself and her sister out of this damn basement, she and Murph were going to sit down for a long talk.
She nudged Emma. “Do you know if Asael has any cameras set up down here? I can’t see any. Is he watching us?”
“What?” Emma blinked with sleep-heavy eyes.
“Never mind.” Kate checked again, but didn’t see anything suspicious, so she kicked off her sneakers.
“What are you doing?”
She used her toes to roll off her socks, the maneuver sending half a dozen tiny tools scattering to the cement floor.
Emma leaned toward them. “Is that my manicure set?”
“You left it on your nightstand. I didn’t have time to grab anything else.” Kate eyed the nail file, nail clipper, the cuticle trimmer, and another few pointy metal pieces she had no name for. “I wanted to bring my gun, but I figured he’d find that on me in a second. This was as close as I could get to having a concealed weapon on me.”
She had the small items flat against the side of her feet under her socks, and the bulkier clipper under the arch of her foot. It had made her limp, but only a little.
“Wouldn’t have occurred to me in a million years.” Emma yawned. “What time do you think it is?”
“Noonish?” Kate’s stomach was growling for her missed breakfast and lunch. She’d wasted hours not daring to reveal her little tool set, for fear that Asael would come back. But he had stayed away. Maybe he would stay away a little longer. “Listen. Do you hear any noise from upstairs?”
They both fell silent.
Nothing.
“He could have gone out to eat,” Emma said.
“This could be our chance. See if you could kick some of these tools up to my hand.”
Emma kicked off her shoes and socks, stretched, then swiped at the cuticle cutter with her bare toes and grabbed up the round plastic handle. Then she lay on her back and pulled her feet up and over her head, tilted to the side, and dropped the precious tool behind Kate’s back.
Kate searched the ground blindly until her fingers brushed over the metal. “Got it.”
“You can call me Yoga Queen.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Kate tried to saw at the plastic tie that held her to the water pipe without stabbing herself bloody.
While she worked on that, and failed, Emma finagled over the nail clipper. “Try that.”
Kate did. Dropped the clipper, picked it up, dropped it again. “The plastic is too stiff. I can’t get the angle right.”
She kept fiddling with it anyway, until they heard the basement door open. Of course, he would come back right at this second. Maybe he did have a freaking camera hidden somewhere.
Kate shoved the nail trimmer into the back of her waistband, then grabbed the rest of the tools her sister had deposited behind her back in the meanwhile and did the same with them. Then she just sat there with Emma and tried to look innocent. They could do nothing about their socks and footwear.
Asael appeared at the bottom of the steps, a large messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He’d definitely had work done. Cirelli had been right. His nose was narrower. His hairline straighter at his forehead. Hair plugs?
He took in their shoes and socks, then shook his head. “I don’t have a foot fetish.” He laughed. “I’m not going to waste time on guessing what you were hoping to accomplish here.”
“Could we have some water?” Kate asked.
Emma spoke up at the same time. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Later,” Asael told them. “I have a schedule I mean to keep.”
He strode to the workbench in the dark corner and carefully placed his homemade devices into the messenger bag, one after the other.
Desperation choked Kate. “Are those for the festival?”
“Give the girl a cookie.”
“This town has done nothing to you. The people of Broslin had nothing to do with Mordocai’s death.”
The muscles in Asael’s face tightened at the name.
Okay, definitely don’t mention it again.
“Please let my sister go,” Kate begged, because the hitman might respond to that. He struck her like the type who enjoyed having power over others. “You have me to punish. You don’t need her anymore.”
“I’m not going to leave you with this creep,” Emma spoke up. And then, as Kate stared at her, she demanded of Asael, “What the hell is the operating table for?”
Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. And Kate really didn’t want to know the answer. But she had to hear it anyway.
“New side business. There are people who’d like to do what I do, but don’t possess the skill.”
Emma stared at him. “Aspiring assassins?”
“Not many have the balls for that. More like voyeurs. Taking a life can give a person a certain rush.” Asael’s thin lips formed an übercreepy smirk. “Have you never thought about it?”
“Cut me loose,” Kate said through gritted teeth. “I’m willing to give it a try.”
“Glad to see you found your spark. It’s always more entertaining when the prey fights back.” His smile grew colder as he glanced toward the workbench set up with a wide selection of tools.
“You’re not going to break us.”
“Not down here. But be assured, by the time I’m done with you and your sister, you will be in pieces.”
Kate held herself rigid, locking in the panic. She was not going to cry in front of him. She was not going to show fear. The bastard was not going to see her cower.
“This here…” He gestured at the setup. “Is for a more private, more protracted performance. A client who likes to watch. Believe it or not, in parts of the world, there are some sick perverts who’d pay a good amount to see just how much torture an American soldier can take.”
Whatever Kate had meant to say next got stuck in her throat. Because she knew exactly what soldier Asael was referring to with that sick smirk on his repulsive face.
Oh God.
Murph.
When facing a deadly predator, play dead, had been the advice Kate had received during a family camping trip to Yellowstone National Park when she’d been in high school.
Her father had meant grizzly bears, but few
predators were deadlier than the man Kate faced.
Do not challenge. Hold still. Keep your head down. No eye contact.
Couldn’t do it. Kate laughed into the bastard’s face instead.
“You’re seriously going to call Murph here?” She sneered.
She was done with the fear, the hiding, the running. Asael had killed her best friend, Marco, then taken years from her life. Kept her away from her sister, her parents. Messed up the best relationship she’d ever had with a man. If she and Murph hadn’t been forced to go into witness protection, if what was between them had been allowed to develop at a natural pace, under natural circumstances, she wouldn’t be having all these doubts. Asael had poisoned everything Kate held dear.
“I thought you were smart,” she taunted him. “Famous assassin. Never been caught. Always outwits everyone. But if you think you’re going to take Murph Dolan down…” She shook her head and flashed a pitying look. Come on. Get mad. Make a mistake. Step close enough so I can kick your balls behind your kidneys. “He’s so far out of your league.”
“I’ll see how tough he is when he’s strapped to the table.” Asael offered that sickening psycho smirk again. “You and your sister will be joining the parade. I predict you’ll be an explosive success.”
“Ooh.” Emma took a turn, catching on. “You’re so brave. Blowing up two tied-up women and a bunch of innocent people. What a big boy you are. So tough.”
That did the trick. Asael stepped back to the nearest workbench behind him and grabbed a pair of pliers, then stalked back to them, dark hate dripping from his eyes.
“Did you know that pulling out someone’s teeth will not make them shut up?” he asked. “Not even if you take every last one. If you really want someone to be quiet, you have to rip out their tongue.”
Kate pulled her knees up as if in a self-protective gesture, but really so the man could step even closer. She held his gaze and put every ounce of defiance into her next words. “Then fucking do it, you chickenshit!”
His smile grew sickeningly excited as he dropped to one knee next to her and grabbed her hair with his left hand, then yanked hard, tilting her head. “Open up.”
