Web of Lies

by Elizabeth Knox

  I stare at her, then I curse and lower the gun.

  Chapter Four

  Dante

  I pull the gun from her head, but I don’t unseat myself from where I’m straddling her hips. No way in hell am I giving her the chance to move and do something stupid. Instead, I tuck my gun into the back of my jeans and reach into my jacket pocket.

  As soon as she sees the glint of metal, she freaks out, thrashing beneath me. It doesn’t help her. I’m stronger, and I’m also fueled by anger. I snag one of her wrists easily and snap the handcuff around it. With minimal effort, I manage to slip the chain around one of the metal spindles on the headboard and get her other wrist cuffed. Now she’s attached to the bed, I climb off her and move over to the window. She’s making a racket, but when I pull the netted curtain aside, outside looks dead.

  She thrashes against the cuffs, but as cheap and nasty as this little motel is, it’s well built. It doesn’t move. For the first time since I met her, I see vulnerability in her.

  “Uncuff me,” she demands.

  I shake my head. “Not happening. Not until I get answers from you.”

  “Dante!”

  “Quiet, little bird, or I’ll have to gag you.”

  She glares at me, challenging me, but I will do it, and she seems to know this because she backs down.

  “How do you expect to get answers if I’m gagged?”

  “I’ll get them. I’m rather inventive when I need to be. And I have an incentive— half a million pounds worth of incentive.”

  Her throat works at this. “I can’t help you with that.”

  I thought she might say this, so I shrug. “My father’s men are coming here in the next half an hour. When I told him what had happened, he was more than happy to lend me his chief torturer and his side-kick. Their methods will be a lot less kind than mine, I assure you. It’s in your interest, Cara, to tell me what I need to know before they get here. Things will end better for you.”

  “End implies I don’t survive this, so what incentive is there to tell you anything?”

  “The quicker you tell me what I need to know, the less painful your death will be. If you make my evening unpleasant, little bird, I will make your end twice as bad.”

  The fear in her eyes should give me pleasure— after all the bitch played me like a harp before she cleaned me out— but it doesn’t. I don’t want to be the one that causes her to be afraid, but she also stole from me. That can’t be allowed to stand.

  I move the chair in the corner and sink onto it, the gun resting on my thigh, but pointing in her direction.

  “Who are you really?”

  When she doesn’t answer, I put a bullet in the bed, inches from her bare feet. The rush of air from the suppressor is the only sound the weapon makes, but she squeals.

  “Are you crazy?”

  I ignore her, and say, “The next shot won’t miss.”

  Truthfully, I hadn’t intended to miss that time either, but something pulled my aim at the last moment. I don’t want to think about why.

  Mercy is for the weak . . .

  It’s a lesson my father has instilled in me since birth and it’s one I’ve followed to the letter my entire life. I’m ruthless with my enemies, and I’m cut-throat in business. There’s a reason my father put me in control of the family’s legitimate business dealings. I have the skills and the patience to negotiate with moronic CEOs and corporations. My two brothers do not possess this talent, but they have expertise in other areas— none of which are particularly legal or savoury.

  I’ve made nearly as much money for the family through our legal channels as we do through our less than legal routes, and they provide a way for us to launder the money we make through our criminal activities. I’m good at what I do, but I’m good for a reason— I take no prisoners and I keep my wits.

  Cara humiliated me by taking from me. I may have suspected she was up to something, but I didn’t realise what she was planning until my accounts were empty and she was gone. I still have no idea how she did it, but that’s irrelevant. What matters now is figuring out where she sent the money she stole and how to get it back.

  “Let’s try this again then, shall we?” I say, my voice level and calm. “Who are you?”

  “Why don’t you just kill me already?” she says. “We both know I’m not saying a word.”

  She’s wrong. I will get her to spill her secrets before we’re done here. “You said we’re being played. Explain.”

  “You were holding a gun to my head. I would have said anything.”

  “So, we’re not being played?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “This game doesn’t work for me, little bird. I need you to start chirping.”

  I watch her head tip to the side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she does. I loved the blonde, but this brunette look she’s wearing suits her better. I wonder if it’s her natural colour.

  “If I talk, what’s in it for me?”

  “You get to keep breathing for a little longer.”

  The roll of her eyes tells me precisely what she thinks of this. “Well, what an incentive. Sign me up. I think I’ll keep my silence, thank you. Aren’t you supposed to be some big shot negotiator? I’m surprised you do so well in business if this is your approach.”

  Her words have my teeth gritting. I should just shoot her now and be done with it.

  But then the money disappears, and your father kills you instead.

  And dear old dad will put a bullet in me a lot faster than I will in Cara. The money she stole wasn’t mine, but his, and Niko Escarlo is less forgiving than I am.

  But I’m almost as good a liar as she is. My father’s chief torturer is not coming here. I haven’t even told my father the money is gone. I’m not suicidal. I plan to recover it before he finds out, which means I need her talking. I hoped the threat of my family would light a fire under her arse, but it doesn’t seem to have.

  She’s not going to talk.

  She is right about one thing, though. My skills lie in negotiation and in making rich men at ease, so they’ll buy. My brothers joke that I can charm the birds out of the trees. They’re not wrong.

  “What made you decide to become a thief?” I ask her, trying for a different tact.

  “I’m not just a thief. I’m the best in the circuit.” Her lofty tone is annoying.

  “You know, I could use someone like you in my operations.”

  “I told you, I’m retired, and even if I wasn’t, I'm not for hire.”

  That is a pity, because I’m not lying. She would be a great asset. Okay, I was onto her from the start, but that’s only because I had inside information.

  “You have . . .” I glance down at my watch. “Twenty-five minutes or thereabout before my father’s men get here. If you want any chance of coming through this without intense pain, I suggest you start talking.”

  For both our sakes, I hope she does.

  Chapter Five

  Annabel

  His eyes bore into mine as if he’s trying to drag every thought out of my brain. I stare back, not sure what my next move should be. Really, I’d like to get the hell out of here. I’m putting a brave face on, but the thought of his father’s men coming here scares me half to death.

  Then again when he told me his real name, I nearly had a heart attack. Apparently, I’m not the only one keeping secrets.

  The Escarlos are notorious for being complete and utter psychopaths. The family runs a vast chunk of London and deals in drugs, gun-running, and several other nefarious things, if the rumours are to be believed. They’re to be avoided at all costs, mostly because they have ways of making people disappear. I’m pretty sure they have the police in their back pocket. I have no idea how it escaped Bastian’s research— if it did— that Dante is an Escarlo. Even so, I wonder if Dante is as ruthless as the rest of his family. If he were, I’d be dead already.

  Things are starting to feel more and more off about this whol
e job. Why haven’t I been able to reach Bastian? And how in the fuck did he screw this up so badly? This isn’t a small mistake, it’s one that puts us directly in the cross-hairs of the London mob.

  Dante doesn’t seem to care that we’re both being stitched up, though. His anger— and he is furious— is all directed at me, and why wouldn’t it be? I’m the only tangible link he has.

  If Bastian has screwed me over, then it’s in my interest to say what I need to in order to get out of this, but it could also be a trap to uncloak my boss.

  But he hasn’t called you . . .

  I push this down. I’ve known Bastian a long time. I can’t see him doing the dirty on me now.

  “How did you know?” I ask.

  “Know what?” he asks, moving to the window once again. He uses the tip of his finger to peel back the curtain a slither and peers outside. He seems on edge, which worries me.

  “That I was playing you. I’ve been doing this a long time and you’re the first man who has ever made me.”

  He lets the curtain drop and turns back to me. “I always assume the worst in people.”

  This statement makes me frown. “So, you just assumed I was going to steal from you?”

  Dante snorts. “I had no idea what you were planning, but I suspected you were full of shit. You were too eager, too ready with the right answers. You said everything you thought I wanted to hear, not what you really thought. I could hear the lies in your words.”

  Bugger. If I weren’t retired, I would be reconsidering my modus operandi right about now. How did he see through an act that plenty of others didn’t? I’m sharp and good at my job. It doesn’t make sense that he would ‘just know’. Then again, growing up an Escarlo, I imagine he had to keep his wits about him. A sheep in a pen of lions will get eaten if not vigilant.

  “I thought I was rather good at it.”

  “To the uninitiated, maybe, but I’m not some wet behind the ears buffoon. I will admit,” he says as he sinks back into the chair, “you did surprise me still. I have no idea how you stole that money from me, but I’m intrigued to know.”

  I’m sure he is. I’m not about to reveal anything, though. Mainly, because I have no idea myself. Bastian needs access to specific devices and details about the mark’s life, which I get once I’m close enough to the target, and he does the rest of the work. How, I have no clue. All I know is the money ends up in his accounts and he pays me a healthy stipend out of it. In truth, I could have lived a good life on the money I have in my own accounts, but I’m probably going to die because of my own stupid greed. I stayed to get the payout on this job because it’s huge money.

  “Would you give away your secrets?” I ask.

  He flies across the room and slams the gun back to my temple. “You seem to be under the illusion this is a game. Let me clue you in, sweetheart— it’s not. If I don’t get that money back you and I will have bigger fucking issues than you betraying me.”

  His words send a chill racing through my body. “What issues?”

  He glares at me a beat, his dark eyes eating me up. “Do you think my father will forgive and forget half a million pounds going missing?”

  I frown at him. “It’s your money I stole. Not his.”

  The headshake makes my heart skip a beat.

  “No, little bird. The money was his. You took from the business accounts, as well as mine. My earnings are not so impressive, despite the lifestyle I portray. The majority of the money belongs to the Escarlos, more specifically, Niko fucking Escarlo. If we don’t get that money back, we’re both dead.”

  Icy fingers claw around my stomach and heart.

  “So, you see my predicament, Cara?”

  I do, and I don’t like that I do. There’s more going on here than I know. Bastian is many things, but he’s not stupid. I don’t believe for a second he went into this blind, which means he set me up. The question is why.

  “So, what do we do?”

  He opens his mouth, but before a word can be uttered, there’s a loud ‘crack’ and the window blows, raining glass on the carpet. For a moment, I have no idea what happened. Then, I hear the ‘thwap’ of something hitting the wall behind the window, and I realise belatedly it’s bullets.

  Bullets are hitting the wall.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Six

  Dante

  The shooting lasts for what feels like minutes, but can’t be more than thirty seconds. When it stops and silence fills the air again, my brain kicks into overdrive.

  Move. I need to move.

  I have no idea who is shooting at us, but I’m not hanging around to find out.

  “Dante . . . can’t breathe.”

  I glance down at the voice and realise I’m lying on top of Cara. I don’t even remember throwing myself on her, but my body is cradling hers, protecting her from the shower of bullets.

  Fuck.

  Scrambling off her, I watch as she draws air into her lungs, wondering if I should say something or do something, but she sits up a little, the handcuffs stopping her from moving too far. It was probably not the smartest idea to chain the only person who knows where the damn money is to a bed in a crappy motel.

  “We need to get out of here,” I mutter, reaching into my jeans for the handcuff key.

  “Do you think they’re coming back?” she asks, panting a little.

  “If they’re my father’s men, then without a doubt. I don’t know about your side of things, but I imagine they’re not likely to just assume we’re dead.”

  The fact she blanches tells me I’m right. Quickly, I unfasten the cuffs and free her from the bed. She rubs her wrists, as if they’re hurting, but given the short time she’s been bound, I highly doubt they’re sore.

  I barely give her discomfort a second thought, moving into the bathroom, and spot the window. Carefully, I push it open and peer through it. There’s nothing but scrubland behind the building, and the dark swallows nearly everything. It’s only the lights from the rooms along the row that provide any illumination.

  It’s a small window. She’ll fit, but it’s going to be a squeeze to get my broad shoulders through. The alternative is stay here and wait for the armed lunatics to come for us, so I’ll risk it.

  “You’re not seriously thinking of going through there, are you?” her voice demands from behind me.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you crazy?” she hisses and I feel my irritation mounting.

  “You can stay here and get shot, if you’d prefer.”

  “Of course I don’t want to get shot, but the window is tiny.”

  If I didn’t need her . . .

  “Well, the only other alternative is to walk out the front door.”

  As it is, I’m hoping there’s no one waiting for us around the back. I’d prefer not to die at the back of some shitty motel. Going out the front is certainly going to end badly, though.

  “Dante—”

  I grab her bicep and pull her towards me. “You know where that fucking money is, and you’re the only link I have to get it back. If we don’t, we’re both dead, so let’s try and work together, yeah?”

  Her jaw tightens, as if the idea is utterly abhorrent to her. I get it. I’m not thrilled about working with her either, but needs must.

  Another burst of gunfire has me grabbing her and pulling her toward the bathroom. She stops me with a snapped out “Wait!” and grabs a rucksack from under the bed.

  I quickly lock the door behind us as we step inside and it’s a little claustrophobic with me and her in the tiny space.

  When I glance at the window, I’m hit with a predicament. Usually, I would say ladies first, but I have no doubt my little bird will disappear while I’m fighting my way out of the bathroom, but leaving her here and going out first might backfire too. She might get caught or not follow me.

  Shit.

  Time isn’t something I have the luxury of, so I hoist her up onto the sill.

  “Out. And do it fast.” />
  She rolls her eyes at me, and tosses her bag through the window, then begins to shimmy out after it.

  I should have gone first. I’m confronted with her pert, tight arse as she tries to manoeuvre her way through the small slit in the window. And it is pert. And extremely tight. The jeans she’s wearing are practically painted on her legs.

  Fuck me.

  As angry as I am, I’m not immune to Cara— or whatever the fuck her name is. She’s gorgeous, and she doesn’t flaunt the fact. At least, the version of her that she portrayed to me didn’t. God knows what the real her is like.

  I push down that thought. I don’t need my anger in command right now. I need a clear head, so I can get us both out of this and in one piece.

  I watch as she disappears through the slit and I cross my fingers that she waits for me.

  Quickly, I secure my gun in the waistband of my jeans and hoist myself onto the window sill. The window is narrow, but I need to go out of it one way or another. I push my head through it and am greeted by the dark, nothing else. There’s no sign of Cara.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I should have known that backstabbing bitch would have deserted me the first chance she got.

  Well, you did handcuff her to the bed and put a gun to her fucking head . . . what did you expect?

  I silence the voice in my head and concentrate on getting my broad shoulders through a gap that is barely big enough. A banging behind me has my heart racing. It sounds like someone is trying to kick the door in.

  Shit.

  Time to go, and fast.

  I place my palms on the brickwork on the outside of the building, and use it to lever myself through the window. My hands come out to break my fall as I hurtle headfirst towards the asphalt. As I hit it, a ricochet of pain races up my arms and through my shoulders. I ignore it, quickly stumbling to my feet.

  I’m about to curse the air blue, when she steps out of the shadows.