by Lexi Blake
“Logan, wake up!” she yelled as she pounded on the door. Logan was not known for being the most dedicated deputy. He could often be found napping or reading comic books with his earbuds in. “Logan!”
“Stop that,” Rachel said, frowning. Beside her, Q sat down and stared up at the women. “You’re going to wake the poor boy up. I know where Callie hid a key. Nate throws Max in jail often enough that she let me in on the secret hiding place.”
Rachel reached under the sign that proudly proclaimed this place to be the Bliss County Sheriff’s Office and pulled out a small magnetic box.
“Only in Bliss would someone hide the key to the Sheriff’s Office,” she said, shaking her head.
Rachel slipped the key into the lock and turned it. She started to open the heavy outer door that led to the swinging doors inside. She stopped suddenly. “Why was the door locked? Didn’t Stella say she sent Holly with breakfast? Logan wouldn’t lock the door after Holly.”
Jen paused as she stepped inside, Rachel behind her. “I don’t know. Do you think something’s wrong?”
As she got the words out of her mouth, the answer became apparent.
“You must to come in now, Miss Jennifer.” Alexei stood in the doorway, his bulky body blocking the entrance, a gun fisted at his side.
Jen watched in horror as he leveled the gun, aiming it straight for her head. Yep, something was very, very wrong.
Chapter Eighteen
Jen couldn’t quite catch her breath.
“It’s a woman.” Alexei’s dark voice was tossed over his shoulder, but his eyes never left her. They were hard as steel. “What should I do with her?”
Utter confusion made her head spin. Alexei was out of his cage, and he had a gun in his hand. She could hear a conversation going on in the office, but she couldn’t see past Alexei. Someone was speaking, his voice rough, almost guttural. It was a language she didn’t understand. It had to be Russian. Oh, god, Alexei’s mob friends were here. He’d tricked everyone into believing he was on their side, and now he’d taken over the station house.
“It’s just one woman, Oleg. I think I can handle her.”
Rachel took a quick step back.
He was letting Rachel go. He had to know she would go for help.
He looked past Jen at Rachel, and he gave her a barely perceptible nod before reaching out and grabbing Jen’s arm. She turned her head as fast as she could and saw Rachel disappear as the outer door closed.
“You are not Jennifer,” Alexei quietly whispered in her ear as he pulled her into the room.
“Jen?” Holly’s voice trembled.
She heard Alexei curse under his breath, but it looked like whatever game he was playing, this piece was blown. Her heart pounded as she tried to assess the room. She saw Holly standing by Logan’s desk, her face white as a sheet, but she appeared unharmed.
The shortest of the men stepped forward. He was dressed in a suit and tie, his graying hair slicked back. He was older, but by no means soft. He said something in Russian as he looked her over. Alexei replied, his manner slightly deferential, as though he was speaking to his boss. He finished and nodded slightly.
“Hello,” the boss said. “My name is Dimitri Pushkin. You are Jennifer? Renard’s Jennifer?”
Jen was somewhat startled at the sound of Renard’s name. She knew she shouldn’t have been, chided herself for it. He was the asshole who had gotten her into this situation in the first place. “I worked for him.”
Alexei moved to Holly’s side. His arm slid around her shoulder, hauling her close. All the while, he held the weapon casually at his side, yet his eyes never left the other two men in the room. It was like Alexei was watching two snakes, waiting to see which would strike first.
Had this man and his goons shown up, leaving Alexei with another decision to make? He’d let Rachel go so it felt like he was still on their side.
“Yes, and it seems you worked against him, too.” Pushkin walked up to her, his finger lifting to her chin. She forced herself to stay still under his scrutiny. The Sheriff’s Office wasn’t exactly the biggest building in town. She found herself against the reception desk with no real place to run now that the doors were locked again. Her only hope was that Rachel still had the key. She glanced at the clock. 10:23 a.m. The streets were deserted, but Zane was still at Stella’s. All Rachel had to do was get back there and get Zane. Zane would bring everyone else. She had to hold on. Her people wouldn’t let her down. She had a whole family and they would come for her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister.” Ignorance might buy her a few minutes.
“I am talking about the painting I purchased. I would like it back.”
“I don’t know where the Picasso is.” It was the truth. She had no idea, and it was apparent that Alexei didn’t want Holly to talk. The minute Pushkin had started toward Jen, his hand had tightened on Holly’s shoulders, as though in warning.
Pushkin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t give a shit about the Picasso, and you know it. I want the painting I purchased from Renard. Your painting.”
Now she wasn’t feigning ignorance. She was truly confused. “My painting? But my painting is the one that Renard hid the Picasso behind.”
Pushkin stared at her with cold, dead eyes. “Silly girl. That’s what I told my employees. Trust me, what is hidden behind your work is much more valuable than any painting to me. Now, you can tell me where it is, or you can join the deputy.”
That was when she heard it, a low moan coming from Nate’s office. It sounded like an animal in pain. She tried to dismiss the notion that the person who made that low, utterly hopeless sound could possibly be happy-go-lucky Logan.
There was a humorless chuckle from Pushkin. “Americans. I see you are shocked. This is because you are the world’s children, every one of you. You believe that life is innately fair when the rest of the world knows that it is not. You tell yourself that pain and horror, these are things that happen to other people. Certainly not to someone as privileged as yourself.” He leaned in. She could feel the heat of his breath snaking over her skin, smell the stink of cigars on him. “But I am your teacher. The world is not fair, little girl. It is not some amusement park.”
There was the sound of something thudding and then that long, low moan that ate at Jen’s soul. She felt her jaw clench and angry tears prick at her eyes. “You’re a monster.”
The door to Nate’s office opened, and a man stepped out. He looked something like the man backing up Pushkin. He had taken off his coat and jacket at some point in time, laying it over a chair. He was stripped down to a white T-shirt that was now splattered with blood. She didn’t want to grasp the implications of that bright red blood. He said something in Russian and shook his head.
Pushkin grunted his reply before slipping back into English. His lips curled up in a satisfied smile. “You call me a monster? I am. Do you know anything about history, little girl? I find so few Americans do. Back in Rome when the gladiators would fight, the patron of the games would stand at the end of the fight, and he would decide the fate of the loser. If he gave a thumbs-up, the man would live. But that did not happen often. He would more likely give the thumbs-down, and the loser would fall. So much life lost on the simple placement of a thumb. But the Romans understood. There are only a few people in the world who truly matter. The powerful people of this world are the important ones. The rest are all slaves who have forgotten their places. Your deputy is learning this lesson right now. He learns that his control was an illusion. His life is not his own, and it never was. He was merely waiting for someone important to show him his place.”
Impotent rage choked her. “You let him go.”
“Now, why would I do that?” Pushkin asked. “He has offended me. He arrested my man, kept him from doing a very important job for me. More importantly, I don’t care. He is nothing, a bug that I squash beneath my feet.”
Logan, sweet, funny Logan, was at this man’s mercy, and
he had none. She couldn’t help it. Her hand came out, and she slapped him for all she was worth. Flesh met flesh in a satisfying smack. The man who had been standing by the door was suddenly at her side, his thick, meaty hand tight around the arm she’d hit Pushkin with.
“Don’t break the girl.” Pushkin barked the order. He gave no indication that he was at all affected by her small act of violence. “Yet. This one has claws. I believe you will discover mine are longer and sharper than yours. You will tell me where the painting is, and I will give you a quick death.”
All the more reason to be happy she had no idea where the damn thing was. Pain might be in her future, but Rachel would be back. Rachel would bring Zane and Nate and, god, she wanted Stef. She wanted to see him and hold him and have him tell her she was going to be okay. The thought of never seeing Stef again, never holding him, was too much to bear. She had to endure whatever this man handed out because she had to be alive when Stef came for her.
“I don’t know.” The world was fuzzy through her tears.
Pushkin frowned and turned to the man in the bloodstained T-shirt. “Luka, go and finish off the deputy. We need the space for another interrogation. This one will be more fun for you, no?”
Alexei whispered something to Holly, who turned her mouth up to his and let him kiss her, their mouths pressing together in a way that seemed staged to Jen. He stopped Luka with a hand to the other man’s shoulder. “I would do this myself. I am the one he stuck in a fucking cage like dog.”
Luka looked to Pushkin, who nodded his assent. “Let Alexei have his blood. You will have the girl’s soon enough since her tongue seems unwilling.”
Luka smiled at her, a dark, wicked thing. “I think I will use different strategy with such a pretty girl. We’ll see if I can fuck the information out of her.”
Pushkin laughed as the men disappeared behind the door.
It was only a moment before she heard the shot that ended Logan’s suffering.
She heard Holly gasp and placed a fist in her own mouth to stop the wail that threatened.
She looked at the clock. Ten thirty.
Stef would be here. Stef would come for her. It was a mantra in her head. She closed her eyes and prayed.
* * * *
Stef slammed into the back of the café at exactly 10:25. He pushed through the doors from the alley and into the kitchen as Zane was carrying a distinctly green Callie out toward the parking lot and his truck.
“Hey, you okay, Cal?” Stef stepped around Hal, who was busy making sandwiches.
She smiled wanly from her big brute’s arms. “I’m fine, Stef. Just a little pregnant.”
“I’m going to take her home now that the morning’s fun seems to be over,” Zane said, looking a little green himself. “Tell Nate where we are if you see him.”
“Sure thing. Where’s Jennifer? Max said she was with Callie and Rachel.” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice.
Zane shrugged. “Don’t know. I left her with Rach. They must have left while Callie was heaving half her body weight in the bathroom.”
“Gross.” She smacked Zane in the chest, but Stef didn’t miss the way she cuddled against him as though she could draw his strength into her body.
Zane kissed the top of her head before turning his attention back to Stef. “If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her. You try her cell?”
“She’s not answering.” He turned and saw Stella at the counter. She was talking to his father.
Zane and Callie continued out toward the parking lot. Stef stalked to the counter, pushing through the swinging doors, a restless feeling in his gut.
He didn’t fail to notice that Stella’s hand was in his father’s, their fingers entwined. He was happy for them, but he couldn’t let that take precedence over his need to find Jennifer and that painting.
“Stella, where did Jennifer go?” Stef asked, well aware that his voice was gruff.
Stella’s face looked years younger as she turned to him. Her hand never left Sebastian’s. “She was here a couple of minutes ago. She and Rachel went to find Holly.”
A deep voice spoke up from Stef’s left. “Holly came back?”
He glanced at the doctor, who was sitting at the end of the counter, sipping a mug of coffee, and it hit him. Who the hell else in this town would let Holly talk him into buying a painting for far, far more than it was worth right now? One day Jennifer’s paintings would be worth more, but for now, they were only of interest to investment collectors. Holly couldn’t know that it was worth anything. Who would she sell it to? Who else but the man who had walked into town and promptly fallen in love with her? Oh, Caleb hadn’t made a single move on her yet, but the man brooded enough to let the world know he was crazy about her. As a man who had spent an enormous amount of time brooding over a female, he knew the signs and could diagnose the good doc’s disease.
“Where did you stash the painting?” Stef asked, unwilling to waste a ton of time.
Caleb sat up straight. “The painting? I don’t paint.”
Stef bit back a moan of frustration. He’d already forgotten? “The one you bought from Holly?”
Caleb’s eyes suddenly found his coffee mug as though he was seeking something there. “Oh, that. Yeah, I loved that painting. So beautiful.”
“Cut the crap. Everyone knows you have a thing for Holly.”
“No, I don’t. I’m married.” Caleb shook his head, running his hand across his face. “I mean, I was married. I…it’s too soon to think about anyone else. Holly is just a nice girl.”
Caleb’s wife had been dead for five years, but Stef wasn’t about to argue with him. “Where is it?”
He shrugged, as though content to put the other line of conversation behind him. “I put it in my office. It’s in a closet. I haven’t had time to hang it up.”
It would have to do for now. “Good. Keep it there. Don’t let anyone into your office until I get Nate off the mountain. Stella, try calling him. If that doesn’t work, someone go down and wake Logan up. I have to find Jennifer and get her somewhere safe.”
“Didn’t Jennifer go down to the Sheriff’s Office?” His father had already pulled out his cell and passed it to Stella.
The door to the diner slammed open and a dog barked, a deep and protective sound. He looked up as Rachel stumbled in, her hand on her belly. The minute he saw her, his gut clenched because she was in trouble. Rachel’s face was red and Quigley danced around her, the big mutt’s distress obvious. Everyone left in the diner was on their feet in a heartbeat. He managed to get to Rachel before she fell over.
“Oh, god, not again.” She moaned as her whole body seized and pain contorted her face into a grimacing mask.
Stef held her up, feeling the way her whole body went tight.
“Rachel, how far apart are the contractions?” Caleb knelt beside her, his hand finding her wrist. For all his tics and odd mannerisms, the minute he needed to, he became a cool, calm professional.
She shook her head. “No contractions. It’s just a little pain.”
Stubborn. It described Rachel to a T. Stef tried to settle her down. “Rachel, I see your stomach seizing. You’re in labor. I can tell, and I don’t have a medical degree.”
“I can’t have the baby now,” she said, her voice hitching with every breath.
“I don’t think he’s going to wait.” Caleb put a hand on her belly. “I need to get you back to the clinic. I don’t know that we have time for a hospital. Besides, you have to have the baby. Your jeans are soaked. I have to think your water broke. No turning back now. I believe I explained to Max that it wasn’t like someone dumping a glass of water on the floor. He didn’t listen to me, hence the dog is still here. Come on. Let’s get you to the clinic.”
“No!” Rachel forced herself to sit up. She held on to Stef. “I have to get back to Jen.”
The air around him seemed to go cold. “What’s wrong with Jennifer?”
Rachel opened her
mouth to speak, but her body wasn’t her own again. A low wail came out. “Fuck. I hate this. I hate this. Please, I want my husbands. Please.”
“Damn it.” Caleb cursed for a few seconds and got to his feet. “Stella, we’re having this baby here and now. She’s probably been in labor all day and was too stubborn to admit it.”
“It’s too early. It’s too early,” Rachel said through her tears. “Please, Stef. They have her.”
“Who?” He was trying to be patient. “Rachel, you have to tell me where Jennifer is and who has her.”
She gritted her teeth as she tried to get up. “Sheriff’s Office. We went to look for Holly, but the place was locked. I knew where the key was, and Alexei took Jen. He pulled her inside, but he let me go. He was talking to someone. I don’t know how many are inside, but they have the building under their control.”
He cursed inwardly. If only he’d walked around the front of the building, he might have seen Rachel and gotten to Jen sooner. Habit had brought him to the kitchen entrance. He’d come to Stella’s this way since he’d been a child.
He had known he should have killed that son of a bitch. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He would kill the Russian as soon as he could, and if he could make it painful, it would be for the better.
Rachel doubled over and screamed in pain. Quigley whined and tried to lick her face, offering the only comfort he could. Stef reached over to a table that appeared to have been recently vacated, picked up the half-full glass of coke, and dumped it on the floor beside the dog. Quigley immediately took off, his huge body easily pushing through the swinging doors.
“There, Rach,” Stef said. “Q will go get Max if we can’t get him on the phone.” He turned to the doctor, who was running antibacterial gel all over his hands and forearms. “I have to go.”
