Bulletproof Billionaire

by Mallory Kane

  With his left hand Arsenault jerked the transmitter out of Seth's ear and threw it down on the floor.

  Seth didn't move a muscle, but he breathed an internal sigh of relief. He wasn't in immediate danger of dying. Arsenault wanted to talk to him, maybe even take him to Senegal.

  He concentrated on keeping his heart from racing. In a minute, or an hour, Arsenault would make a mistake, and then Seth could make his move.

  He kept his head up, using his peripheral vision to gauge Arsenault's movements, swallowing against the cold column of steel pressing into his throat.

  Arsenault looked down and shifted his weight to one leg. He lifted his left foot to stomp on the transmitter. For that instant, he was off balance.

  Seth brought his right hand up in a lightning-fast backwards chop, thumb stiff against his palm. At the same time he whirled, putting his entire weight behind the blow.

  Arsenault overbalanced. The gun went off.

  Seth's brain registered two things that he didn't have time to examine. A hot streak plowed across his skull, and something snapped in his hand.

  Seth kneed Arsenault and went down on top of him. His primary concern was getting the gun and pinning Arsenault.

  "Mon Dieu!" Arsenault screamed. "Remy!"

  Seth jammed his knee onto the Cajun hit man's right forearm and punched him in the face with his right fist, sending excruciating pain through his thumb and wrist and up his shoulder. He grunted, and punched Arsenault again.

  Blood gushed from Arsenault's nose. The blood was worth the pain in his hand.

  He wrested the gun out of Arsenault's left hand, and braced against the heavier man's bucking efforts to free himself.

  Seth blinked as a red haze clouded his vision.

  As he pointed the gun at the man who had hurt Adri-enne, he heard the doors crash, and sunlight poured into the house, shadowed by the silhouettes of men with guns.

  "Lewis!"

  It was Jones. He gestured to a man Seth had seen around the Crescent City Transports building. "Martinez, take this man into custody. His name is Antoine Arsenault. Read him his rights."

  Martinez hauled Arsenault up by his collar.

  Jones put a hand on Seth's shoulder. "It's okay, Lewis. Martinez has him. You can get up."

  Seth tried to blink away the redness that clouded his vision, but he couldn't. He lifted his right hand, then decided that hurt too much, so he swiped his left hand across his eyes. It came away bloody.

  "Cripes, Lewis. You're covered with blood. What happened to your head?"

  "I think he shot me." Seth stood, his pulse pounding full throttle.

  More men poured in the door, and Seth heard yelling and chairs scraping as Confidential agents took control of the drug lab.

  "Tell 'em to wear masks. You don't want to be breathing that dust," Seth said as metallic drops of blood trickled down his face and into his mouth.

  Jones gripped Seth's.arm. "Come on, Lewis. They know what they're doing. I need to get you to the hospital."

  "I'm fine." Seth pushed Jones away and turned toward the front door. "Where's Arsenault? I want to personally take him into custody."

  "I think you made your point with Arsenault."

  "Not enough." Seth blinked. The haze over his vision was turning darker. "Not enough for what he did to her."

  Then to his utter and complete chagrin, Seth blacked out.

  Adrienne sat in the steaming hot police transport bus, her hands and feet shackled, trying to steady herself against the seat as the ancient vehicle bounced over the road. There were two other women on the bus, sitting on the opposite side. They apparently knew each other, or were kindred spirits, because they started talking as soon as they were brought on and they hadn't stopped. Adrienne felt sick, not only physically but emotionally. Seth had promised he'd come to see her, but the long hours had passed, and he hadn't shown up. She'd asked for telephone privileges, but she was refused. Now they were taking her to St. Gabriel's Women's Prison. She'd heard awful stories of overcrowded conditions, mistreatment, prison gangs.

  How was she going to stand prison? How would she protect her baby? Despite Seth's reassurances and Guil-ford's calm, rational explanations, Adrienne was terrified. She put her hands on her stomach, thinking about the tiny, helpless life that grew there.

  She and Seth had only known each other for a short time. Most of the time they'd been together they'd used condoms, but once or twice, like that night in the shower, they'd been careless.

  She must have gotten pregnant the night of Senegal's daughter's engagement party. Seth had discovered the bruises on her arms. He'd been so tender, and yet so insatiable. They'd made love again and again through the night. She did the math. Her baby would be born in April. She looked down at her sore, shackled wrists.

  Where would she be when her baby was born? Far away from New Orleans, caring for her mother? Some magical place where Seth loved her and wanted them to be a family? Or had his tenderness and caring all been an act? Would she be in prison?

  She knew one place she would not be. No matter what happened, she would never go back to where she'd been, under the control of Jerome Senegal and his sadistic goons. She'd rather be in a real prison, locked up for her unwitting part in Senegal's illegal dealings, than shackled by the invisible bonds of fear and cowardice. She'd let others control her life for too long.

  The bus bounced over a rough spot of road, and Adrienne felt the acrid bite of nausea in the back of her throat.

  One of the women laughed loudly and spewed out a string of filthy words, apparently describing her ex-boyfriend. Adrienne cringed.

  "Hey, check out the socialite. My language bother you, Miss Priss?"

  Adrienne sent an apprehensive glance toward the woman. "I apologize. I'm not feeling well."

  "Well, then, we'll try to be discreet over here, honey. You stay over on that side of the bus, in the first-class section."

  The second woman guffawed, then erupted into a fit of coughing.

  Ignoring the women, and swallowing against the nausea, Adrienne cradled her flat belly and her mouth curved into a soft smile. She felt an enveloping warmth she'd never felt before. It took her a moment to realize what the feeling was.

  It was love. She loved this baby that she and Seth had made. Seth. Strong, gentle, funny Seth. It wasn't just the baby her love encompassed. It was also the baby's father.

  Her heart fluttered in her breast. She loved Seth. She was in love with Seth. He was the father of her child, and she wanted him to love their baby as much as she did.

  A twinge of apprehension slipped like a splinter under her glow of happiness. Even though Seth had taken her mother to safety, even though he was working under the umbrella of the chief of police, he'd still used her.

  He'd admitted it. But he'd sworn to her that he hated the deception, and everything he'd done had told her she was more to him than just an assignment.

  But now the stakes were even higher for her. Their lovemaking had created a life. And Adrienne was determined to protect that life with her own if necessary.

  But how would Seth react?

  Adrienne awoke with a start as the bus jerked and swerved, throwing her against the window. She must have drifted off into an uneasy doze. She scrambled for a handhold, wrenching her wrists as the chains reached their limits.

  The bus rolled to a stop, and the two women shouted. The guard yelled at them to shut up, and the driver cursed the car that had run them off the road.

  "Everything's fine," the burly guard with thinning hair yelled, drawing his gun. "Now shut up and sit down!"

  Something popped, glass shattered, and the guard tumbled forward as a pink spray spattered the seats in front of Adrienne. It took her a few seconds to realize the pop was a gunshot and the spatter was blood.

  There were more pops. The windshield cracked, and the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Two men with white handkerchiefs over their noses and mouths boarded the bus. They look like western outl
aws, Adrienne thought inanely.

  The two women screamed as the larger man pointed a rifle at them and fired, the bullets jerking their bodies around like out-of-control marionettes until they crumpled.

  Adrienne dove down behind the seat in front of her, crouching protectively over her belly. The sharp odor of blood and fear filled the air. She heard heavy footsteps walking toward her.

  She tugged at the seat cushion, hoping she could use it as a shield, or a weapon, but it was fastened down. There was no escape.

  She held the chain that shackled her wrists and ankles, wondering if she could swing it at their gun barrels.

  A masked man stopped in front of her, his gun aimed at her head.

  No! She didn't want to die. She wanted to live, to have her baby. She clanged her wrist shackles together, shielding her head.

  Seth, I love you, she cried silently. I always will.

  Lily Harrison was in hell. When she'd run into the huge dark-faced man with the evil grin, she'd been sure her life was over. But instead of killing her, the dark man had clamped a beefy hand over her mouth and stuffed her into the back seat of a car. The other man had climbed in beside her and stuck a gun in her ribs.

  They'd driven west, out of the city, on twisting, turning roads.

  "You can't do this to me. My father will hunt you down like dogs."

  The fake cop laughed. "You gonna sic your Daddy on us, little girl?"

  "For your information, my father was with the CIA."

  "Hey, didja hear that? Her father's with the CIA."

  The dark man looked in the mirror. His evil eyes assessed her. "What's your daddy's name?" he asked her in heavily accented English.

  Lily lifted her head proudly. "Tanner Harrison."

  "Gag her and blindfold her."

  "No, don't—" The idea of being blindfolded and helpless around these two men whom she was sure worked for the killer she'd seen, scared Lily to death. She had no doubt they were taking her somewhere to kill her.

  The fake cop stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied a handkerchief around her eyes.

  Lily didn't remember much after that. She must have fainted or something. She'd woken up when the rain started. Soon after that, the car had swerved sharply and stopped.

  Now she was tied to a straight chair that sat in the middle of a nearly empty room. The gag and blindfold were gone.

  A dull ache in her belly reminded her that she hadn't eaten in a long time. Not only that, she needed to go to the bathroom, bad.

  "Hey!" She tried to yell, but her voice was nothing more than a croak. "Hey!" she tried again.

  A door opened, and Lily smelled something cooking. Something spicy.

  "What the hell?" The fake cop stuck his head into the room. His face split into a gap-toothed grin. Not a nice grin. "So, you finally woke up, little Miss CIA?"

  "You wait," she said. "My dad will find you."

  "That's what we're hoping for."

  Lily swallowed. "What do you mean?"

  "1 mean, when our boss found out your dad was CIA, he decided to keep you alive—for bait. I'll bet your dad would do just about anything to save his little girl."

  That shows what you know. Her stomach turned over, making her feel nauseated. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her dad would probably be too busy to save her.

  "My dad'll crush you," she said bravely.

  "What the hell are you doing?" It was the dark man.

  "Nothing." Fake Cop looked guilty.

  "Put the damn gag back on her."

  "No, wait." Lily licked her lips. "I think I'm going to throw up."

  Dark man glared at her. "Gag her."

  "No, please. I have to puke and my stomach is upset, too." She was serious. The idea of these two buggers hurting her dad increased the queasy feeling in her stomach. She belched, and hiccoughed.

  "Damn. Take her to the John, but don't let her out of your sight."

  Acrid saliva filled her mouth. "Hurry," she mumbled.

  "I'm going outside to make a phone call. Take care of her."

  She coughed and gagged as the dark man slammed out the door.

  "Okay, okay." The fake cop hurriedly untied her feet. "Go! Quick. There's the bathroom."

  Lily hurried into the bathroom, relieved that Fake Cop hadn't insisted on watching. After taking care of business, she splashed water on her face and looked in the mirror.

  Seeing her wide, scared eyes and her dirty face, she burst into tears. For a few seconds, all she could do was lean over the sink, sobbing as water ran on her wrists.

  Eventually, the nausea abated. The walls of the tiny room were thick wood, and a small window was directly above the toilet.

  Lily looked at the closed door, then back at the window. Wiping her cheeks, she put the lid down on the toilet and stood on it. It was dark and rainy outside. Not daring to hope for success, she flushed the toilet and quickly pushed at the window. It opened.

  "Hey in there." The fake cop's voice came through the closed door.

  Lily took a deep breath and belched. "Just—a minute." She groaned and made what she hoped were convincing retching sounds.

  "Okay, okay. Just hurry!"

  Lily grabbed the top of the window and swung her legs through the opening. Her heart crashed against her chest like drumsticks against cymbals as she wriggled through and let go.

  She hit the ground hard, burying all four inches of her stiletto heels into the soft wet dirt. As the rain soaked her, she fumbled with the buckles and stepped out of the sandals.

  Pushing wet hair out of her eyes, she peered around her. The downpour was steady, throwing a blanket of soft noise over everything and providing a curtain to shield her from view.

  She heard a muffled shout, a door slamming, a crash.

  Fake Cop knew she'd escaped.

  Barefoot, cringing in terror, she ran into the darkness, tripping over roots, pushing at the vines and leaves that slapped at her face and arms.

  A louder shout pierced the blackness, and a torch snapped on.

  Desperate, Lily pushed through the underbrush that tangled around her feet like grasping fingers. The rain was fast turning the ground into sticky mud. Something moved near her and she heard a deep grunt. Alligators.

  Shivering, her limbs wobbly and weak with fear, she shielded her face with her arms as she stumbled on.

  Something jerked her backwards. She shrieked. Her heart stopped. She whipped around, kicking out instinctively, but it was just a branch. Her hair had caught on a branch.

  Sick with relief, gasping for breath in the wet air, Lily almost collapsed. Tears and rain dripped down her face.

  Two watery circles of light shone through the snarl of trees and vines, closer than she'd expected.

  Sobbing, she ripped her hair free of the branch and forced herself to push on. She didn't want to die.

  Conrad Burke did not want to face Seth. The kid had already been through enough for one day. As Burke strode into the emergency room, he tried to rehearse how he was going to tell him about Adrienne DeBlanc.

  The unscheduled raid on the drug lab had come off almost without a hitch. Jones had called in the readiness team as soon as he heard Lewis say Arsenault's name.

  The team was at the house within minutes, but minutes were too long when a cold-blooded killer held a gun to a Confidential agent's head.

  Once again, Lewis had proven himself to be the man for the job. He'd used his lightning-fast reflexes and his hand-to-hand combat training to disarm Arsenault and take him down.

  Burke took in the brightly lit emergency room with a glance. There were two private rooms guarded by uniformed police officers. In one was Lewis. The other held Arsenault.

  "Burke." Phillip Jones emerged from one of the rooms and motioned to him.

  "How's he doing?"

  "Good. He's got a broken hand and a graze above his right ear that's still bleeding like a stuck pig, but he looks better than Arsenault. He was—enthusiastic about disarming him. Arsenault's got a b
roken nose and a black eye. And I believe he lost three teeth." Jones chuckled.

  Burke nodded and went into the room.

  Seth was sitting on the side of the bed, frowning at the bandage on his hand. When he saw Burke, he stood up.

  "Sir, I'm sorry about this." He swayed.

  "You'd better sit down until you're a little more steady on your feet."

  "Yes, sir." Seth sat.

  Burke assessed his newest agent. Even though he was only a few years older than Seth, his feelings for him were decidedly fatherly. He supposed it had a lot to do with Seth's background, which in some ways was similar to his own. Plus, since he'd become a father himself, he'd noticed those instincts growing stronger with each passing day.

  "I hear you finally got your hands on Arsenault."

  Seth ducked his head for an instant, then straightened and looked Burke in the eye. "Yes, sir."

  "Good job."

  "He got the drop on me while I was investigating the lab." Seth shook his head. "I apologize, sir. I never should have let my guard down."

  Burke looked at the bandage above Seth's ear, which was stained with blood. "Looks to me like you handled the situation pretty well. Are they going to let you out of here tonight?"

  Seth nodded. "As soon as the surgeon looks at the second set of X rays, he'll decide if I need surgery on my thumb. I don't think I do."

  Burke took a deep breath and shifted to the balls of his feet. He hoped he could handle Lewis if he needed to, after he gave him the news about Adrienne.

  As if reading Burke's mind, Seth said, "I need to get out of here. Do you know if they've transferred Adrienne to St. Gabriel yet?"

  Burke nodded. "A bus left at four-thirty this afternoon." He put his hand on Seth's shoulder. "At 5:20 p.m. the bus was stopped."

  Seth jerked and Burke tightened his grip. Seth's muscles bunched beneath his hand. Shock and alarm darkened his eyes.

  "The guard and the driver were killed. One female prisoner was killed and one is in critical condition. Apparently, Adrienne DeBlanc was taken hostage."

  Seth's face drained of color. "Apparently? They don't know?"