by Sarah Grimm
“Good. Now move away from the desk.” He gestured with the Beretta. “Have a seat. On the couch.”
There had to be some mistake, she kept telling herself as her legs moved mechanically. This couldn’t be Rick standing before her, holding a gun on her. Rick, the man she’d once planned to marry. The man she believed had loved her.
He couldn’t be alive.
Yet even as part of her denied the plausibility of it, another part of her recognized it as truth.
He’d changed dramatically over the past three years, more than could be explained by the passing of time. Obviously, he’d undergone reconstructive or cosmetic surgery to alter his features. His cheeks were sharper than they’d once been, his chin broader.
But his eyes, they were the same.
Paige blinked, struggling with the harsh reality of it all. “Why?”
“We’ll get to that.” Piercing blue eyes tracked her progress across the room until she stopped alongside the couch. “Sit down.”
She obeyed, settling onto the very front of the cushion, prepared to spring to her feet and run for the door should the chance for escape arise. It stood open a good three inches, its latch damaged when he’d kicked the door in.
Seconds ticked by, turned to minutes. Paige stared at him. He stared at her.
“Now what?” she asked when she couldn’t take it any longer.
“Now we wait.”
“What are we waiting for?”
He moved closer, the automatic centered on her chest. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“No, I—”
“You want to have a nice little chit-chat for old time’s sake, is that it? We can do that. We’re waiting for your cop lover to arrive.”
Icy fear twisted around her heart. “Who says we’re lovers?”
“Don’t insult me. I know what the two of you have been up to.”
“Justin won’t come here.”
Rick smiled.
“He won’t, he’s—”
The ringing of the telephone cut short Paige’s denial. Her pulse jumped. Her fingers curled around the edge of the couch cushions. She watched Rick, waiting to see what he would do.
On the third ring, the answering machine clicked on.
Justin’s voice sounded from the machine.
“Paige, honey, pick up the phone.”
“Let me, Rick. Let me tell him I’m fine. He won’t come then.”
“I want him here.”
“Paige?”
The sharp edge of fear tinged his voice. It tore into her, cut her insides like glass. Her fingernails punctured the fabric of the couch as she gripped the cushion harder.
“Listen to me. Get out of there. He knows where you are.”
The machine clicked off.
“Excellent! Let the game begin.”
“Game? This isn’t a game, Rick.”
“Yes, my dear P.C., it is.”
She shook her head. But as she stared into his eyes, the only part of his face that resembled the man she once knew, she saw the truth. Rick Preston might not have died that night outside the restaurant, but whatever humanity he’d ever possessed did.
A new kind of fear froze her blood in her veins. “Why, Rick?” She still didn’t understand. If she was going to die, she needed to understand. “Why are you doing this?”
The cold fury in his face made her stomach roll. “Leroy just couldn’t let it go. As far as everyone was concerned, I was dead. I died that night outside of the restaurant. He should have let it go.”
“You killed him.”
“He knew I was alive. I had to stop him before you found out, too.” He moved another step closer to her. “You should have run away, P.C.”
There was something in his voice, a change. He no longer sounded cold and disconnected, but... “You almost sound as if you care.”
“All you had to do was run—away from San Diego, away from Harrison.”
“Which bothers you more, Rick, the fact that you have to kill me? Or that I’m involved with Justin?”
His eyes darkened. His hand tightened around the grip of the Beretta until his knuckles went white. “You should have stayed away from him.”
“He’s a better cop than you. A better man.”
In the blink of an eye he had her by the throat, jerked her to her feet. Paige choked and gagged. She staggered, her shins making painful contact with the coffee table before he pulled her away from the couch and against the front of his body.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, his face so close to hers his breath brushed across her lips. His fingers tightened. Her vision blurred. “But you won’t push me into ending this before he gets here.”
Desperate for air, she tugged on his arm, raked her fingernails across the back of his hand. As abruptly as he’d taken her by the throat, he released her. She gasped, then began to greedily suck oxygen into her lungs.
He produced a long, thin strip of plastic from his back pocket. If the item had a name, she didn’t know it, but she knew what it was used for. Securing a suspect’s hands in place of handcuffs.
“Turn around.”
In order to free up both of his hands, he tucked the automatic into his waistband at the small of his back. When she didn’t immediately do as he’d ordered, he clamped onto her wrist and twisted her arm until she had no choice but to offer him her back. Forcing both arms behind her, he tightened the plastic strip and bound her hands together.
Immediately, she began to struggle against the restraint. It tightened around her wrists, biting painfully into her skin. “This is suicide, Rick.”
“I survived a shot to the head, remember? No one can take me down.”
She faced him, noted the Beretta once again aimed at her chest. “You got lucky. You’re not really Superman, you know.”
“Damn but you’ve changed, P.C. Where’s that malleable young thing that used to believe everything I told her?”
Gone. She was no longer that woman. Hardly recognized herself in the person he continued to describe.
“I liked that girl so much. I liked coming home to her knowing she had no idea the things I did, the man I really was.”
“You mean that you’re a liar and a manipulator? I figured it out.”
“Not soon enough though, right?”
Fire burned through her wrists as she continued to twist and tug in an effort to pull her hands free.
“You might as well give up. You can’t break free. Your efforts will result in nothing but further pain.”
Paige clenched her jaw and ignored him. She feared he was right, her struggles would get her nowhere, but she couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t give up.
“You do know that’s what attracted me to you in the first place, don’t you? Your innocence? Well, that and your mouth. Baby, you’ve got a mouth on you just made for wrapping around a man’s co—”
“I get the point.”
Rick laughed. “I forgot how much of a prude you are. Is it any wonder I had to go elsewhere for fun?”
“If you found me so disappointing, why did you stay? Why the act the night you were shot?”
“I told you, I got off on the fact that you were so clueless.”
“I didn’t remain clueless for long.”
“Long enough for me to get what I wanted.”
“What did you want?”
“I got tired of busting my ass on a case just to watch it fall apart. Tired of witnessing just how much money could buy. It taught me money is power. I wanted some of the power so I approached Alex Trubane with a deal. The entire time I was with you, I worked for Trubane. Did you know that, P.C.? Was that one of the things you figured out about me?”
“Who?”
“Ah, there’s a glimpse of that naïve young girl I know and love,” he said with derision. “Alex Trubane, the largest drug trafficker in Boston. He runs a very profitable operation under cover of his three nightclubs.”
The pain in her wrists increa
sed. A warm trickle of blood ran down her hand. “Why would he even consider letting you in? What did you have that he wanted?”
“I’m Superman,” he stated baldly, his mouth curved into an arrogant smile. “I held the highest closure rate in the department. They needed me either out of the picture, or on their side. It’s cheaper to buy a cop than it is to kill one.”
“So you switched sides and then what happened? Trubane turned against you?”
“I worked both sides, until Internal Affairs began looking at me. Hard. Seems they got a tip about me.”
“From Leroy,” Paige guessed.
“My very own partner tipped them off. Can you believe that?”
A measure of satisfaction crept through her fear. Leroy St. John was everything Rick wasn’t. He was honest and loyal. He never would have stood idly by while Rick abused the system Lee believed in.
“I had to disappear. I decided the best way for that to happen was for me to die. I had it all arranged, the hospital switch, my new identity, everything down to the last detail. I’d even paid off the coroner to falsify records identifying the body delivered to them as mine. It wasn’t very difficult. The man had a nasty drug habit.”
“You took a bullet to the head just to get out of facing an indictment?”
He rubbed his temple. The move brought to her attention a thin, pale scar at his hairline. “The bastard wasn’t supposed to go for my face.”
“You went through the trouble of faking your own death. You took a bullet in order to keep it real, and for what? Just to die today?”
“It’s not me who’s going to die today.”
“If you’re going to kill me, do it. What are you waiting for? Do it, Rick!”
“I told you,” he said, his tone as flat as his eyes. “We’re waiting for your cop lover. He won’t let this go. He’ll keep digging and I can’t let that happen.”
The realization that Rick could in fact kill Justin came hard and fast. Rick had the upper hand. He had the leverage. He was armed with both a Beretta and a hostage. With her standing between them, Justin would hesitate to take a shot.
Rick wouldn’t.
A skitter of panic crept up her spine. Desperate, she began to beg. Not for her life, but for Justin’s. “Please, Rick, please don’t do this.”
His head came up. His blue eyes glinted as he smiled at her.
“Please, Rick, just shoot me now. You still have a chance to get away.”
“You’re in love with him. This will be even better than I planned.”
Frenzied, Paige lashed out at him. She brought her heel down atop his foot as she rammed her shoulder into him. The move pushed him back but failed to knock him off his feet.
His eyes darkened. “Bad move,” he growled just before the back of his hand smashed against her cheek.
Light splintered. Pain exploded in her head and she dropped to her knees. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away, forced her eyes to focus as his gun hand pulled back to swing at her again.
“Let her go,” a hushed voice demanded.
Paige’s gaze shifted toward the voice, locked on the man who’d entered the house unnoticed and now stood near the front door, his Glock aimed in both hands.
“Justin,” she whispered as her panic ratcheted up another notch. “No!”
Instantly, the man Justin now knew was Rick Preston grabbed Paige by her bound wrists and forcefully yanked her to her feet. Using her body as a shield, he pressed the muzzle of his automatic against her ribcage, just under her right arm. “We’ve been waiting for you, Sergeant Harrison.”
“Here I am,” Justin countered, doing his best to keep his expression carefully schooled as a mix of rage and fear tore through him. “Now let Paige go.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Drop the gun.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“I’ll kill her,” Preston said, his voice calm. Viciously calm.
Justin kept his finger firm on the trigger of his Glock. “The way I figure it, if you wanted her dead she would be by now.”
“Are you willing to risk her life on that?”
Justin’s throat tightened at the possibility that he was wrong. He pushed back the panic as best he could. He needed to believe Preston wouldn’t shoot her. He’d had too many chances before this if her death was all he wanted. Silently praying he was right, Justin held his ground. “You made a mistake. You should have left after you learned how much we knew. You never should have threatened Paige. Now it’s over.”
Preston pulled her closer to his body and pressed the Beretta more forcefully into her ribs. He made himself as small a target as possible. “Is it?”
No way could Justin take a shot with her body so effectively shielding his. “Let her go, Preston. It’s me you want.”
“Justin,” Paige cried softly.
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t risk it, couldn’t allow himself the distraction. One turn of his head and he just might lose it all. A split second of lost concentration and Preston just might follow through with his threat. He might kill Paige.
Justin couldn’t let that happen. Everything he never knew he needed was there, in the grip of a killer. Now that he’d found her, he couldn’t lose her. He kept his attention focused on Rick Preston.
“So, Harrison, you figured it out. I’ve got to give you credit on that one. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“What about your partner, did you think he had it in him? What made St. John go to IA about you? He catch you skimming from a bust?” His words were pure speculation but as Preston’s gaze narrowed, he knew he’d guessed correctly. “Money or dope? Man like you, it had to be the money.”
“Money is power.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Justin caught a glimpse of movement as the kitchen door shifted minutely. The action assured him Brennan had gained access to the house undetected and even now stood with the .38 aimed at Rick Preston’s back.
“I bet that stung,” he said, his tone full of forced calm. “Having your partner rat you out like that. Damn!” If he could just talk Preston into shifting that gun away from Paige, then maybe Brennan could move in. “But you got him back though, right? You paid him back with a bullet.”
For the space of a heartbeat Justin thought his taunting was going to have the desired affect on Preston. His grip on Paige loosened, the automatic he held pressed into her side shifted. Then, suddenly, he snaked his arm around her middle and pressed the hand with the Beretta into her stomach.
“Enough!” Preston leaned in and pressed his cheek against hers, cruelly yanking her head back and holding it in place with his free hand when she tried to move her face away from his. “Look at him, P.C.”
“Don’t do this, Rick. Please don’t do this.”
