Black Tie

by Lynn Raye Harris

  He didn’t take off the tape or the handcuffs as he sat across from her and smiled. It wasn’t a friendly smile. In fact, it chilled her to the bone—as if his words hadn’t done that job already. He seemed to be studying her eyes.

  “I want to see how these eyes look when they are in pain. And I want to see them dilate with pleasure, too. We will experiment with it all by the time we’re done. We might have already had our fun if not for your interfering boyfriend. He isn’t what he pretended to be that night, is he?”

  Tallie’s gut twisted. What if he’d sent someone to hurt Brett too?

  Robert ran his fingers down her cheek. She shrank from him because she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Such strange eyes. Rare eyes. I’m going to enjoy studying them and all the emotions they reflect.” He lifted his chin as he looked down at her. “Right now, they reflect fear. I wonder how many ways they can do that? How many variations there are to the fear response.”

  Tallie glared at him—and then she closed her eyes because she didn’t want him to look into them for a single moment more. She thought he might get angry with her, but he only laughed. She heard him stand, the leather creaking and squeaking as his weight left it. Then he walked away. She felt it more than heard it, but she still didn’t open her eyes to look.

  Tears pressed hard against the backs of her eyelids. She let them fall because holding them in wasn’t going to work. It took her a second to realize that she could peel the tape off if she wanted—but her hands arrested in the act of trying to find the corner.

  What if removing the tape angered him? Did she really want to bring his attention to her any more than necessary?

  Tallie dropped her hands to her lap and leaned back in the seat. She was sick at heart, and angry and scared. She was a prisoner, but she wasn’t going to be helpless. She would look for an opportunity—to escape, to inflict damage to Robert, whatever it took.

  Despair filled her at the slim possibility she’d get to do either of those things.

  She prayed that Brett was alive and well—and that he was already looking for her. She had to hold onto his image in her head, tight, and she had to believe that Brett would find her.

  Because if he didn’t, she’d probably never see him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Brett paced the floor of the ops center, ready to tear his fucking hair out by the roots. Tallie had been gone for six hours. And they still had no idea where she was. Where Robert had taken her.

  Brett had returned to HQ by helicopter two hours ago, but they still had nothing to go on. Nowhere to go.

  The man had given Sharon a fake name, of course, because there was no Robert Cortes who owned a medical research company and lived in New York City. Sharon, bless her, was physically okay even if she was feeling mentally knocked for a loop. She’d gotten checked out at the hospital and sent home to rest. Brett had promised to keep in touch with updates. And she’d promised not to tell anyone about what had happened at the house. Not until they had Tallie back safely.

  Ian had sent someone to fix the glass Brett broke, and everything would be put back to the way it’d been. No one would ever know anything had happened there.

  Right now, Brett’s body felt like it was encased in ice. Pure, hard, cold ice. He’d shut down his emotions hours ago. He was operating on instinct and training right now. It was all he could do.

  But beneath the ice, the scared kid who’d sat vigil beside his dead mother’s body was crying out in fear. Crying that he couldn’t go through it again.

  Ian was on the phone, pacing back and forth. He’d been working the phones since Brett had phoned to tell him Tallie was missing. Ian had a hand on his head and the other held the phone to his ear when he suddenly swore explosively.

  Brett’s senses went on high alert as Ian finished the call and dropped the phone to his side.

  “His name is Roberto Cortes Broussard,” Ian said. “He holds dual Spanish and French citizenship, and he is a doctor. A plastic surgeon of some renown who has a very exclusive practice in Barcelona and Geneva. He is also, unfortunately, a collector of curiosities. Like Von Kassel—except his curiosities seem to be exclusively human.”

  “How did he learn her identity when Von Kassel didn’t seem to know it? Only the Syndicate knew.”

  Ian was frowning. “I’m afraid that’s the answer. He could have paid someone to get the information, but I think it’s more likely he’s a member. He has a fortune of his own and skills that are desired by the Syndicate. I’ve been told he’s made notorious criminals disappear entirely by giving them new faces and new identities. It’s rumored he experiments on patients at a hidden location—but I don’t know where.”

  Brett’s blood ran cold.

  “Where the fuck is he then?” Colt asked. He and Ty and Jace were all there. Waiting for a destination so they could break Tallie free.

  Ian’s jaw worked. “He has a practice in Geneva and a house there, as well as a home near Chamonix and a house in Barcelona, where he has another office.”

  “Do we have addresses?” Jace growled.

  “We do.”

  “Then we need to go,” Brett said. “He has a fucking six hour head start on us.”

  “I know that,” Ian bit out. “But which location? That’s what I don’t know yet.”

  Brett exploded. “We can’t just sit here, Ian! We’ve got to find her. Before he does something—”

  His voice choked off, the bile swiftly rising in his throat. He thought of that night when he was eight, when the trailer was fucking freezing and his mother brought home a john so they could eat and maybe have some heat again.

  He hadn’t done anything to stop it and she’d died. While he lay mere feet away, under his blankets, his mother’s life was snuffed out and his life had changed irrevocably. He wasn’t going to sit by and let it happen again.

  Because his life would change. He knew it would. Without Tallie in it, without her sweet smile and her gentle touch, he’d lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  He slumped heavily against a table and forced himself to breathe in and out.

  She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could roll it around in his head forever, second guessing himself, but somehow he knew that the answer wasn’t going to change no matter how long he thought about it. Tallie Grant was the one.

  She just was, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to bring her back again.

  Ian’s hand clamped his shoulder. “We’re going, kid. He’s at one of those locations. I don’t know which one yet, but we’ll figure out which one before we get there. The plane is ready to go, so grab your gear and let’s move.”

  “We, boss?” Jace asked as they started for the armory located deep inside the bowels of the building.

  “That’s right,” Ian said. “I’m going with you.”

  They went into the armory, loaded up on weapons, ammunition, and assault gear, and then drove to the private airport where one of Ian’s planes waited for them. As soon as they were onboard, the plane started to move. They fell into their seats and buckled in mere moments before the pilot opened the throttle and began his takeoff roll.

  Once they were airborne and had climbed past the ten-thousand feet threshold, they unbuckled and headed for the ops center where technicians were working on satellite-connected computers.

  Ian picked up a phone—a red one, naturally—and barked into it, “Do you have a location for me yet?” He paused. “Keep working. Send it as soon as you have anything.”

  Ground ops and airborne ops would work together to locate Broussard’s destination. Until then, there was nothing they could do except wait.

  Brett returned to the main cabin, threw himself into a seat, and buckled in. It was going to be a long flight. Worse than that, it was going to be a torturous one.

  Ian appeared at his side, glass in hand. “Here.”

  “What is it?”

  Ian didn’t say anything, just
held the glass out. Jace, Colt, and Ty appeared with glasses as well. Brett took it and sniffed.

  “Vodka.” He set the glass on the table between the rows of seats. “I need to keep a clear head.”

  Ian sat down across from him with his own glass. “We’ve got six hours in the air at least. I think a couple of drinks aren’t going to hurt anybody. And you need to take the edge off.”

  Jace said something in Russian. Ian replied and laughed. Ty grinned, which meant he’d understood it too. Colt shrugged. Apparently, they were the only two who didn’t speak Russian.

  “Drink up, kid. At least have one,” Ian said.

  Brett slid the glass toward the edge of the table. Then he picked it up and drained it. The vodka burned going down.

  But not enough to numb the pain in his heart.

  The drinking had subsided and they were each sitting around with their thoughts when the ops center door opened and one of the technicians peered out.

  “Sir, it’s HQ calling. They’ve got something you should hear.”

  Ian got up. Brett went with him. The others stayed, because they knew they’d hear it soon enough, but Brett wasn’t waiting.

  Inside airborne ops, the IT crew worked to keep communications smooth and information flowing. There were three techs, two of whom were women. Brett knew one of them. Mandy Parker was former Air Force and had flown with the president on Air Force One.

  He hadn’t paid any attention when he’d been in here earlier, because he’d been keyed up, but now he gave her a nod. “Mandy.”

  She nodded back. “Brett.” Then she turned to Ian and handed him the phone.

  “This is Black.” His expression tightened for a second. Then his eyebrows went up. “You sure about that? Okay, yeah, thanks. Good work. Keep coordinating with Mandy. Anything else you find out, let us know.”

  “What is it?” Brett asked when Ian put the phone down.

  Ian’s dark eyes—they’d been blue earlier today—sparked with anger and determination. “Broussard has a house in Barcelona. But he also has a mountain home nearby. And not just any home, but a former monastery—one of those carved out of solid rock jobbies at the pinnacle of what appears to be an inaccessible mountaintop. It isn’t listed under his name, but that of a shell company. It’s where he keeps his acquisitions.”

  “And performs his experiments?” Brett’s stomach churned.

  Ian’s expression filled with rage. “It would seem so.”

  “And he’s taking Tallie there.”

  “It’s the most likely destination. It’s impenetrable for the most part. The kind of place you go when you don’t want anyone sneaking up on you. HQ tracked down the flight information. He had a private jet waiting in Richmond. They filed a flight plan for Barcelona. He could take her to his home there, but the monastery seems more likely.”

  “We need to plan a mountain assault.”

  “Indeed.” Ian rubbed his hands together and headed for the conference room at the other end of the plane. “Go get the girls from their little tea party in the main cabin and let’s plan how we’re getting Tallie back.”

  Tallie’s emotions had run the gamut over the past few hours. They’d ranged from abject fear to utmost terror to white-hot anger. She’d experienced exhaustion and hunger and nausea and she’d cried copious tears. But now?

  Now she was fighting resignation to her fate. She kept telling herself that Brett would come for her. But as the hours ticked by and he didn’t arrive, hope started to fade. How would he know where to find her?

  They’d arrived at this place by helicopter shortly after dawn. What she’d seen of their surroundings hadn’t given her much hope. It was all sheer mountain—and no other dwellings besides a fortress that looked like it was fairly old. Medieval, maybe.

  The helicopter had dropped down into a central courtyard where a man waited for them. Robert had climbed out of the helicopter and dragged her with him, uncaring that she stumbled and fell on the cobblestones because she couldn’t get her footing. She’d ripped her leggings wide open at the knee, scraping her skin until it bled.

  “Get up,” he’d ordered, clasping her arm hard. He squeezed until she gasped but she managed to get up and trot along beside him. They passed inside and she had an impression of medieval stone and dark timbers as he hustled her through the corridors and up a set of curving stairs. They passed people on the way, but none of them seemed surprised by the way he treated her.

  None of them would help her. She knew that now.

  Robert opened a door and shoved her inside, closing it behind them. He took out a key and unlocked the handcuffs and she’d thrown herself backward, away from him, to press her body to the wall as she rubbed the feeling back into her sore wrists.

  “Enjoy your day, Miss Grant. I’ll be back tonight, and we will begin our experiments. I suggest you rest for what is to come.”

  Tallie watched him go, listened to the lock twisting behind him, and nearly fainted with relief. She didn’t want to dwell on what he’d said, but she knew he said it to provoke terror.

  He was the kind of person who enjoyed causing pain. She’d watched him on the plane, watched as he twisted his fingers into the flesh of the flight attendant and the expression of agony on the woman’s face. She hadn’t said anything to him because he was her boss, but Tallie had seen the fear in the woman’s eyes.

  Now that Robert was gone, Tallie peeled off the tape, cursing softly whenever it pulled her skin too hard. She wondered that he hadn’t yanked it off himself so he could enjoy her pain, but he was probably anticipating the things he would do later.

  Tallie had all day, when she wasn’t sleeping off her jet lag, to stare at the barren rock and worry about Robert’s return. She’d heard the helicopter leaving earlier, so she knew he’d left the fortress entirely. The view made it clear they were very high up on the side of a mountain. It was the most savagely beautiful landscape she’d ever seen.

  Tallie thought about breaking a window and climbing out. But then she pressed her cheek to the glass in an attempt to see what was down there—and encountered nothing but a sheer drop into blackness even before the sun disappeared over the horizon at the end of the day.

  Eventually, a small woman arrived with food while another stood in the door and watched. Tallie glared defiantly and peppered them with questions. They didn’t respond.

  Tallie was starved, but she didn’t eat the soup in case it was drugged. She ate the bread, however, after sniffing it for anything that seemed off. Unless they’d baked drugs into the bread, it was a lot harder to tamper with it. Or so she hoped.

  She dozed in stretches, but then she jerked awake from time to time and looked around fearfully. Now, she pushed herself up and made another circuit of the room and the bathroom, just in case she’d missed anything she could use to break free—or fight off Robert when he returned.

  There were small bottles of toiletries in the bath. A toothbrush and comb. She looked for a hair dryer. The cord could be wrapped around someone’s neck and tugged tight.

  But there wasn’t a hair dryer, just like there hadn’t been the several times before that she’d looked.

  The toiletry bottles were small and plastic. Not heavy enough to do any damage. The toothbrush was blunt. The toilet paper wouldn’t harm anyone.

  Tallie exited the bath and cast around the room again. There was a bed, a chair—plastic, nothing that would do any damage—and a table that had been bolted to the floor. The bed was a four-poster, with draperies on three sides and a heavy-looking canopy. But she couldn’t figure out how to get up there and hide long enough to push it down on someone. Someone who just so happened to climb onto the bed to look for her.

  Tallie frowned and pushed her hands through her hair. She was tired, frustrated, scared, still hungry—and losing hope. It was after dark now, and he could return at any minute. What would she do when he inflicted more pain on her?

  She climbed onto the bed and pressed herself against the he
adboard, trying to make herself invisible. Then she stared at the windows and their reflection of the room, and she prayed for rescue.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tallie awoke with a start. Panic flooded her as she tried to hear again the sound that had jolted her. Was it a helicopter? Had Robert returned?

  Or maybe it was just her dreams that startled her awake. She’d been running from a giant monster with dripping red fangs. Every time she thought she was free, she’d round a corner and the monster would be before her. So she’d turn and run the other way.

  She’d round a corner and, again, there he was. A tall, hairy, slavering beast with those dripping fangs and yellow eyes. He shuffled toward her, never running, but always he looked like he was about to pounce.

  Like Robert had looked when he’d left her here earlier.

  A key rattled in the lock on her door and Tallie’s blood ran cold. She jumped off the bed and dropped beside it, willing herself to stay calm and wait for an opportunity. If she was lucky, maybe she could disable whoever it was and dart out the door.

  She could run through this dank, dark place and outside—where she would do what?

  Stop. Don’t overthink it.

  The door glided open. Tallie’s muscles coiled. She prayed it wasn’t Robert…

  It was a woman.

  Relief flooded Tallie, making her knees shake. Not that the woman was a friend, but at least it wasn’t Robert and his experiments.

  The woman appeared to be average height, slim build, with dark hair coiled on her head in a sleek bun, and a seeking gaze. She was wearing black. A black jumpsuit maybe.

  “Hello, Tallie Grant,” she said as she strolled into the room.

  Tallie continued to crouch on the other side of the bed.

  “I know you are here. It’s no use hiding.”

  Tallie didn’t move or speak, but the woman came around the end of the bed and frowned. She was wearing a holster around her slender hips with guns on either side. Unlike a cowboy holster, this one was also tied around her thighs.