Striking Distance

by Debra Webb

  Was everything determined to turn out badly tonight?

  The SUV rolled slowly forward.

  She sensed the movement more than heard it.

  Just before she reached the plot of sidewalk where the two winos waited, the SUV stopped next to her, and the passenger-side window powered down.

  “Get in.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and turned a belligerent glare in his direction. “Are you sure? You know they have medication now for bipolar disorders.”

  “Get in.”

  Those cold eyes cut through the darkness with a warning. He wouldn’t be pushed any further.

  “All right.” She opened the door and climbed back into the luxurious leather seat. “So,” she ventured when he’d eased into forward motion once more. “You’ll put me up tonight?” She resisted the urge to smile in victory. Why had she ever doubted herself?

  He braked for a traffic light and swung that piercing gaze toward her. “If you’re certain that’s what you want.”

  She blinked…knew a foolish moment of panic. “Of course I’m sure. Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”

  That relentless stare bored into her for several seconds more. “That depends.”

  The light changed and he shifted his attention to the task of driving.

  She swallowed, wet her lips and considered whether or not she had made a serious mistake. “Depends on what?” she inquired nonchalantly, uncertain as to whether he would even bother to answer.

  He didn’t look at her…just kept driving. But his voice when he spoke was every bit as icy as she knew his eyes would be. “On why you picked me out in that club tonight.” He relaxed into his seat, still not so much as glancing her way. “You see, I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. And—” he did look at her then…the fleeting stare chilled her to the bone “—I will know your reason.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “We lost her.”

  Maverick stared at the handheld monitor, hoping like hell he’d pick up her signal again.

  Nothing.

  “Dammit.”

  “He could have a jamming device in his vehicle,” Ramon offered from behind the wheel.

  “Just keep driving,” Maverick barked. Ramon had been in this business almost as long as he had, but that didn’t give either one of them an edge at a time like this. If they couldn’t pick up a signal on the tracking device or the cell, the bastard had to have a jammer on board. It was that simple. “We gotta find that son of a bitch.”

  He studied the electronic map of the vicinity where they’d last picked up the signal…where they’d last known Tasha North to be. She’d climbed into the SUV with the guy, and they’d lost her signal but had visual contact, so Maverick hadn’t worried. Then, when she’d gotten out a couple minutes later, the signal had come through loud and clear once more. He shook his head and hissed another curse from between gritted teeth. The bastard had a jammer in his vehicle, all right. He knew all the ropes and wasn’t taking any chances.

  Able to maintain visual contact for a while, they’d followed him for several blocks. But, erring on the side of caution, they’d had to lag too far behind to keep up. He’d moved out of visual range…the signal hadn’t returned.

  Now she was gone.

  Maverick called up on the screen a ten-mile radius relative to the last visual sighting. “We’ll take this area one block at a time and hope we spot his SUV.”

  “And if we don’t?” Ramon asked, his expression as disgusted and worried as Maverick’s surely was.

  “Then we report in.”

  He didn’t have to say the rest. If they couldn’t find her soon they’d have to let Lucas know…and start looking for her body.

  CHAPTER 10

  “What did you learn?”

  Lucas settled on Victoria’s sofa in the very den where approximately twenty-four hours earlier the assassin had been setting his little booby trap. He leveled his attention on the woman waiting expectantly for his response. She looked as regal as ever; the coat dress, the color of ripe peaches, flattering to both her complexion and her figure. One would never know that she’d been through pure hell. She sat in the elegantly brocaded chair directly across from him as if a briefing related to her home’s intrusion were an everyday affair.

  “How are you holding up, Victoria?”

  Though she looked prepared for anything, her shoulders square, her chin lifted high. He knew better. This couldn’t be easy.

  “Lucas, I need to know what you’ve learned. Please don’t attempt to spare my feelings. It’s far too late for that.”

  He set his cane aside and looked her straight in the eye. “He’s been in your home, as you know. Planting the device that opened your window would have been impossible by any other means. He left no prints that we can find. Nor did he leave any other surprises.”

  She shifted slightly then. He resisted the urge to shake his head. No matter what she said she wasn’t as ready for this as she wanted him to believe.

  “So you’ll keep my home under twenty-four-hour surveillance now.”

  It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer. Lucas had hoped to conceal the depth of his awareness regarding the assassin’s movements, but that was impossible now. He would note the increased surveillance on the home. That couldn’t be helped. But keeping his suspicions from the assassin that Leberman was behind this was imperative.

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll realize that we know, then,” Victoria noted, reading Lucas’s mind.

  He nodded. He tried without success to keep the other worry from interfering with his concentration. They’d lost contact with Tasha at one this morning. If the bastard had killed her…

  Lucas forced the idea away. Tasha was too good to go down this easy. He refused to believe she was dead…just yet.

  Something changed in Victoria’s eyes. Her expression went from firm and solemn to fragile and frightened. “What about the ice cream.”

  This was the part he’d dreaded the most. “Freda didn’t bring the ice cream.” He managed a smile. “She swears she’s still on a diet.”

  Victoria nodded stiffly. “I thought as much.”

  Lucas leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees. “Is there a possibility that you picked it up by accident. Didn’t notice that one of the flavors was chocolate.”

  The weariness that settled over her expression then tied his insides into knots. “You know, I’ve considered that possibility over and over.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m nearly certain I didn’t…but then I can’t be sure.” She looked at Lucas. “I’ve even wondered if I’m losing my mind entirely. Having memory lapses maybe.” She looked away and shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

  “Yours are the only prints we found on the carton.”

  Her gaze met his once more, and the anxiety there almost undid him completely.

  “But that doesn’t really mean anything,” he hastened to add. “Since he didn’t leave his prints anywhere else, either.”

  He didn’t want her to go through another moment of this. Couldn’t bear it. “Victoria, I think it’s time for us to make those plans. I’d like to get you away from the danger. I don’t like how close he’s gotten.”

  She appeared to consider his suggestion for a few moments, but before she could respond, Logan came to the door of the room. Lucas pushed to his feet and strode across the room to see what news Logan had brought. When he moved into the entry hall, farther away from Victoria, Lucas’s tension ratcheted up a notch.

  “I just received additional information on the brand of the ice cream.”

  His people were analyzing the chocolate ice cream from every standpoint, from taste to the manufacturer.

 
“I assume it’s a local manufacturer.”

  The look in Logan’s eyes set him even closer to the edge.

  “It used to be. But that brand hasn’t been manufactured at all for more than ten years.”

  Chocolate. Little Jimmy Colby’s favorite. Even the brand was the one Victoria remembered buying for her only child. But it had been off the market for ten years.

  “So he’s been keeping it all this time,” Lucas suggested.

  Logan nodded. “The age of the product would be consistent with that theory.”

  The memory of those hours on St. Gabriel Island when he’d been face-to-face with Leberman for the first time in nearly two decades came pouring into his mind. The bastard hadn’t said much…had apparently gotten his jollies from merely watching Lucas squirm when faced with the realization that Victoria was somewhere on that island and he couldn’t protect her. Lucas hadn’t cared if the bastard killed him but he couldn’t bear the idea of him hurting Victoria any more than he already had.

  Something had been different.

  For all those years Leberman had lain in wait. Then, out of the blue, he struck. He could have killed Lucas… possibly even Victoria. But he’d disappeared instead. He’d played them. Lured them into his trap, dangled the possibility of death, then disappeared, leaving someone else to finish the task. But that had been a ploy. Leberman had known the effort would fail. Everything that happened on that island had been a precursor. Some sort of test or preliminary tactic for the real thing. An appetizer to the main course, so to speak.

  He’d killed James Colby fifteen years ago. Lucas was certain of that. Though Leberman had not claimed responsibility he’d left his calling card. James had been tortured relentlessly then shot twice, once in the back of the head execution-style, then once in the heart. The first shot had killed him…the second hadn’t even been necessary. It had made a statement from the killer.

  From Leberman.

  Just as the ice cream did now.

  He was here.

  He’d devastated Victoria all those years ago. Could have devised a way to kill her a dozen times over since…he was far too cunning for anyone to believe otherwise. But he’d chosen not to strike. The little drama he’d set in motion on the island had been to prove something. Otherwise why would he have simply walked away, leaving both of them still alive? Lucas’s gaze narrowed as he thought about that. The answer was suddenly so simple.

  He’d played out that whole ridiculous scenario to make sure Victoria was ready for the next step. He’d waited all these years to make sure he could hurt her as deeply as he desired. She’d needed time to get over losing both her child and her husband…to finally get on with her life. He’d waited for her to fall in love again.

  With Lucas.

  It all made sense now.

  Killing her years ago when she’d already lost so much that she’d wished for death anyway would have lacked the zenith he yearned for…the fulfillment he needed.

  So he’d waited. Waited for her to feel again.

  Waited for the ultimate moment.

  When Lucas was prepared to make her his once and for all.

  The weight of the epiphany crushed down against him.

  The game this time would be for keeps. Lucas could feel it in every fiber of his being.

  If the bastard had his way, both Victoria and Lucas would die.

  Soon.

  But first he would play, draw out his pleasure.

  Lucas gritted his teeth against the fury that whipped through him…and that one obsession would be his doom.

  Lucas would see to it.

  Errol Leberman was dead already…he just didn’t know it yet.

  CHAPTER 11

  Tasha jerked awake.

  She sat up straight and took stock of her environment.

  The room was dark.

  She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed but she was certain it should be daylight by now.

  The perpetual darkness, along with the dank, musty smell confirmed her suspicions that she was in a cellar or basement. Someplace underground.

  She lifted her right foot, crossed it over her knee, the metal on metal clanging a noisy reminder that she was shackled to the cot. Rubbing at her ankle where the metal chafed her skin, she stretched her neck first one way and then another. She had a hell of a crick in her neck and shoulder from sitting in such an awkward position while she dozed. Her side still hurt from the beating she’d taken during Martin’s little exercise. But she’d slept, anyway.

  She hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but exhaustion had finally claimed her after hours of trying to get loose. He’d taken her boots and her tiny purse, leaving her with nothing to pick the lock or attempt to pry it open.

  After feeling around on the cold concrete floor and stretching the chain as far as she could and finding nothing, she’d admitted defeat and plopped back down on the cot to wait. She’d decided to conserve her energy for kicking ass.

  She set her jaw firmly when she considered the heartless bastard who’d locked her down here. When he showed up again she intended to let him have it, shackled or not. To punctuate her heated thought she jerked on the confining chain with all her might.

  “Don’t waste your time.”

  The deep voice cut through the darkness like a knife, piercing her defenses. She gasped in spite of herself. Dammit. She hated even the implication of weakness. Hated even worse that he could rattle her so easily. How had he sneaked up on her like that? She’d always been a very light sleeper.

  Since Maverick hadn’t shown up, she could assume that being underground had silenced the tiny electronic pulse her tracking device emitted. He had taken her cell phone and likely turned it off.

  Just her luck he had a brain to go with the awesome bod.

  Renewed fury raged through her.

  She rocketed to her feet and moved as far in the direction the sound of his voice had come from as the chain would allow. “Why the hell are you keeping me here like this?”

  The silence thickened as she waited for an answer. Her heart banged painfully against her rib cage.

  “To watch you.”

  She laughed, a dry, totally pissed-off sound. “Yeah, right. You can’t even see me.”

  “Sure I can.”

  She drew back slightly. He was right in front of her. Her expression hardened with the anger sizzling inside her as she pushed all thought of playing it safe aside and leaned toward him. “Then read my lips.” She mouthed a detailed description of what she thought of him.

  He snagged her chin in one iron grasp. “So you don’t think I’m cute after all?”

  She stilled. He couldn’t see her…reading her lips was impossible. Her eyes narrowed. Unless he was wearing night vision goggles. She reached for his head. He manacled her wrists but not before she touched his face and found no goggles. The idea that he actually could see that well in the dark startled her all over again.

  “Why didn’t you leave when I told you to get lost?”

  She tried to analyze his tone but it proved impossible. He spoke firmly, harshly almost, but there was no underlying emotion. No anger…no concern…nothing.

  “Well, we both know it wasn’t because of your sparkling personality.”

  He jerked her closer still. So close that she could feel his breath on her face when he spoke once more. “What do you want?”

  Tasha took a moment to shut down her emotions. So far she’d been pretty much going with the flow, but things were different now. He was dead serious. She couldn’t screw up. Her reactions had to be calculated.

  She peered up at him, though she couldn’t see a damned thing in the dark, and relaxed in his hold. “I thought you were cute. I…I was attracted to you.” Then she lifted her chin and glared belligerently s
ince he, apparently, could see. “But that was before I found out what a jerk you are.” She tried to wrestle her arms free from his hold. “What are you? Some kind of serial killer or something?”

  “And what if I am?”

  She stilled, allowing him to think that the idea startled her. Well, it did, sort of, but not enough for the drama queen performance she was laying on at the moment. “You’re…you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

  He made a sound…a laugh, only too soft and with no humor whatsoever. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Time to pump up the theatrics. She tried to pull free again. “Let me go!”

  He released her, and she stumbled back a couple of steps. “Look, just let me go and I won’t say a word. I don’t even know your name.”

  “That’s what they all say,” he countered, his tone purposely sinister.

  He wanted her afraid…he didn’t like it that she wasn’t scared of him. Tasha pondered that assessment briefly. He wanted to be in complete control. Testing the waters of her theory, she summoned the proper emotion and pleaded, “I swear I won’t say anything!”

  Another of those soft, humorless laughs, scarcely more than a breath. “With that mouth do you really expect me to believe you can keep a secret?”

  She balled her fingers into fists and suppressed the urge to slug him. Jerk. “Just tell me what you want,” she urged, going for a placating tone and forcing her muscles to relax from their battle-ready stance. She had to remember he could see. “I’ll do anything you ask.”

  He moved closer…a step, maybe two, the movement soundless. But she didn’t have to hear him, she felt him, as if they were somehow connected on some weird level. “But, if I’m a serial killer as you suggested, anything you do won’t make a difference. You’ll die anyway.”

  He liked the power…wanted her helpless. She was sure of it. Reacting as he would expect to the encroaching sound of his voice, she backed away, the chain rattled as she bumped into the cot. “Just my luck to hit on a psycho,” she muttered, forcing a tremor into her voice. “But my luck has always sucked anyway.” She had a hunch. It was a long shot, but what the hell. “My own mother ran out on me as a kid, but I managed to get by.” She glared in his direction, lifting her chin with a hint of defiance. “Looks like fate had it in for me all along.”