by Lara Lacombe
He guided her toward a plain-looking building, and she let her head loll back so she could glance around without Joey noticing. There weren’t any identifying landmarks, and she couldn’t see a street sign. But there was a gas station on the corner, and a strip shopping mall across the street. She’d have places to go when she starting running...
Joey tugged her inside, shoving her past a desk. The receptionist let out an astonished squeak, pushing to her feet and lifting an arm to try to stop them.
“Sir, you can’t—”
“Shut up,” he snapped. “I’m here to see my uncle.”
The woman held her ground, blocking the door to an inner office. She glanced between them, her eyes growing wide as she looked at Fiona.
“Please help me,” Fiona said softly.
“Quiet.” Joey shook her hard enough to make her teeth clack together. Then he turned and fixed a glare on the receptionist. “Move. Now.”
“I don’t think—” she began. Joey stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wicked-looking switchblade that he opened with a smooth flick of his wrist. Her mouth snapped shut, and the woman slid out of the way, her face now an unhealthy shade of green.
Fiona’s heart rate spiked at the sight of the blade. It wasn’t the first time Joey had threatened her with a weapon, but the knife seemed so much more dangerous than the gun. One careless gesture, one accidental touch, and he could kill her quicker than she thought. She breathed hard, trying to control her shaking. She didn’t want to get herself stabbed by accidentally bumping into his knife.
“Don’t even think about calling the cops,” he warned the receptionist. He turned back to the desk and sliced through the phone cord, then yanked open the desk drawers until he found the woman’s purse. “If you’re not here when I come out,” he said, his tone deadly serious, “I’m coming after you next.”
The receptionist dropped into her chair like a sinking stone, and Fiona felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. Then Joey jammed the point of the knife under her chin, and self-preservation kicked in.
“Let’s go,” he muttered, his breath hot in her ear.
He pushed her toward the door, forcing her to open it so they could enter. The inner office was spacious, with a long bank of tinted windows behind a dark wood desk. A large man stood behind the desk, frowning at the door. Fiona felt a shock of recognition when he met her eyes—this was the man from the pictures!
“What the hell have you done?” His voice was thunderous, and behind her, Joey jerked. The tip of the knife dug into her neck, a painful stab that made her cry out in protest. Joey immediately relaxed his hold, and she felt a drop of wetness slide down her skin.
Please don’t be a deep cut, she prayed.
“Uncle Sal,” Joey started, but the other man cut him off.
“You’ve really done it this time, Joey.” He stepped around the desk and stalked toward them. Joey walked back, dragging her with him, until they hit the wall. The large man kept advancing until he was standing inches away, apparently immune to the threat of Joey’s knife. Shooting a contemptuous glance at the man behind her, he took Fiona’s hand in a surprisingly gentle grip and pulled her away from Joey.
For his part, Joey didn’t try to hold her in place. He let her go, and she was happy to move away from him. Whoever he was, Uncle Sal seemed much more reasonable than his nephew.
Uncle Sal led her to one of the chairs in front of his desk and gestured for her to sit. Fiona sank into the plush leather cushions, breathing a sigh of relief. She cast a surreptitious glance at the desk, pleased to see a phone within arm’s reach. Uncle Sal looked like he had a lot to say to his nephew, and if both men were distracted, maybe she could call the police.
True to her suspicions, Sal turned back to Joey and advanced on the younger man again. “I knew I couldn’t trust you with this job,” he seethed. “You’re nothing but a screwup. Always have been. Always will be. I tried to give you one last chance to prove yourself, but you can’t even handle that!”
Fiona leaned forward, positioning herself within touching distance of the phone. Uncle Sal had his back to her, but Joey was still facing her...
Joey’s features twisted with rage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, old man! I did everything right! Maybe I don’t have the pictures, but I have the next best thing.” He pointed at her with the knife, and Fiona froze, hoping the older man wouldn’t turn to look at her.
“How does kidnapping a woman help me, exactly?” Sarcasm dripped from Uncle Sal’s voice.
Joey opened his mouth to respond, but the other man interrupted him. “Let me explain it to you—it doesn’t. Your actions have brought unwanted police attention to my operation. As I told you earlier, I had a detective in my office not even an hour ago, demanding to know where this woman is and why I had her taken. This is the kind of mistake we can’t afford. And if you had half a brain, you’d know that already!”
“But she’s the key,” Joey protested. “She can get us the photos!”
Fiona’s hand inched closer to the phone. Just a little closer... Her fingers brushed the receiver, and she nearly cried out with relief.
“No, she can’t,” Uncle Sal said. “Do you remember nothing? The police have the photos. She has no access to them.”
Quietly, carefully, she lifted the receiver, holding her breath in hope that they wouldn’t hear the quiet drone of the dial tone over the sound of their argument.
“Then we use her to get the pictures,” Joey said. “Don’t you see? They’ll trade the pictures for her.”
The older man shook his head. “Just when I think you can’t get any dumber,” he muttered. “You can’t blackmail the police like that. The officer who came to see me is not one who works for me. He will not take kindly to such an exchange.”
Fiona’s fingers trembled only a little as she pressed 911 on the keypad. She didn’t dare lift the receiver to her ear. Hopefully the dispatcher would hear the sound of raised voices and would send out a police car to investigate.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Please just let me go,” Fiona said, hopefully loud enough for the operator to hear. It was a risk, interrupting the men like that. Drawing their attention could backfire in a big way if they noticed the phone off the hook. But it was a chance she had to take.
“If you let me walk out of here, I’ll forget all about this. I won’t tell the police what you’ve done. We can all just forget about it.”
Both men looked at her with identical expressions of disbelief. Then Uncle Sal noticed the phone and his face changed, his expression growing hard. He rushed over to the desk and grabbed the receiver, slamming it down so hard the plastic cracked.
“What have you done?” he thundered, looming over her.
Fiona shrank back into the chair, fear rising in her chest. Joey frightened her because he seemed unstable and unpredictable. But his uncle was on another level entirely. This man was used to getting his way, and he knew how to make problems go away. And right now, he saw her as a problem.
“Please,” she whispered, uncertain what she was asking. Please don’t hurt me? Please let me go? Both, if she was being honest.
He drew back a hand and slapped her hard across the face. Bright spots danced before her eyes, and a metallic taste filled her mouth.
“What do we do now, Uncle Sal?” Joey sounded truly worried, like a child who had lost his way in the dark.
The older man shook his head. “We don’t do anything,” he said, turning to face his nephew. “I will take care of this.” Then he stuck his hand inside his jacket and withdrew a small black gun. Fiona watched in frozen horror as he pointed the gun at Joey. “I always knew you’d wind up dead,” he said. “You were just too stupid to make it. I had hoped someone else would take care of this long before now, but, oh well.” With a shrug, he pulled the trigger.
Joey jerked back as the bullet hit his chest, a small spray of red darkening the space in front
of him. His eyes widened in shock and pain, and the older man shot him again and again until Joey finally fell, limp and unresisting, to the ground.
Tears stung Fiona’s eyes. She hadn’t cared about Joey—far from it—but she hadn’t wished him dead. Uncle Sal turned back to her wearing a calm expression, as if he did this sort of thing all the time. He eyed her dispassionately, and Fiona’s stomach dropped as she realized she was in more danger now than she’d been before.
“Time to go,” he said, tugging her up.
“Are you going to shoot me, too?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I haven’t decided yet.”
* * *
Nate glared at Ben Carter, fighting the growing urge to punch the lying man in the face. A broken nose would certainly erase his smug, self-satisfied smile.
“Do you really think we’re that stupid? We have the pictures. We know what you’re trying to pull.”
Ben shook his head stubbornly. “You’ve got it all wrong, man. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“It never is,” Owen said drily. “Why not just admit that you’re in over your head? Let us help you.”
Ben’s shoulders slumped as he finally dropped the overconfident act. He leaned forward to rest his head on the table with a quiet thud. “You can’t,” he said, sounding miserable.
Nate’s patience snapped. “You know what? I don’t care. I’m not interested in helping you. I just want to get Fiona back.”
“I don’t know why you think I can help you with that,” Ben replied, sounding tired. “I certainly don’t have her.”
“Really? Because you have motive, means and opportunity,” Nate replied, ticking each factor off on his fingers. “Let’s review, shall we? You left the photos in Fiona’s possession, and now that she doesn’t have them, you want to punish her. That’s what we call motive. You have a car, the means of transporting her. And you didn’t work today, so you had plenty of opportunity to wait at her home and take her against her will.”
“Why would I do that?” He sounded genuinely puzzled, but Nate wasn’t buying it.
“Because now that the pictures are gone, you have no leverage over Big Sal. You’re scared, and you want to take it out on someone. Fiona’s the natural target. After all, she’s the one who lost the pictures, right? She’s the reason you’re back in this mess.”
Ben nodded, and a surge of satisfaction rose in Nate’s chest. He was getting closer—Ben was just about to break, he was sure of it.
“You needed to punish her,” Owen chimed in, his voice soft and soothing. “Who can blame you? She was just supposed to hold the pictures, not hand them over to us. How stupid can she be, right?”
“No kidding,” Ben agreed. “She had no business going through those papers.”
Nate bit his tongue, knowing any outburst from him would destroy the progress they’d made. He glanced at Owen, content to let his partner take the lead now. Owen was renowned in the department for his interrogation skills, and if anyone could get Ben to tell them where he’d stashed Fiona, it was him.
Nate slowly leaned back so Owen could establish himself as the center of Ben’s focus. He just hoped that Ben would break soon so they could get to Fiona.
He thought of her, cold and alone, scared out of her mind. She was a strong woman—she’d proved that time and again over the past few days—but everyone had their limit. She’d already been through so much. He hated the fact that he wasn’t there for her when she needed him most.
If she was even still alive. The dark thought made his stomach cramp, and he instantly denied it. She couldn’t be dead. He refused to even acknowledge the possibility. He had to believe she was still out there, still waiting for him. He couldn’t bear to think he’d let her down so spectacularly.
“She sounds pretty special,” his dad had said. “We can’t wait to meet her.”
His father’s words echoed in his head. Talking to his parents had been nothing like he’d expected—there had been no yelling, no recriminations. For the first time, his mother had seemed happy to hear from him. And Molly had been over the moon, her enthusiasm so contagious Nate had found himself smiling in spite of his worry for Fiona.
Talking to his family had made him realize Fiona had a point. He was a lucky man. And he wanted to share that with the woman he cared about. Once he found her, he was going to take her home to meet his family. His mother was going to love her, as was Molly. And he knew his father would approve. Hopefully, being around them would ease her loneliness.
If she even wants to be around you after this, he thought cynically.
After all, it was his fault she’d been abducted. He couldn’t really blame her if she walked away and pushed him out of her life. It was the least he deserved.
The buzz of his phone cut into his thoughts. Owen shot him a look, and Nate rose and left the room, careful to shut the door quietly behind him. He took a second to watch his partner through the glass, noting how quickly Owen was able to redirect Ben’s focus. Keep it up, partner.
“Gallagher,” he said automatically, his gaze on the room beyond. Ben leaned forward, his expression earnest as he spoke. He was clearly trying to convince Owen of something, and Owen nodded reassuringly, urging him on.
“Please help me.” The voice was barely more than a whisper, and Nate had to strain to hear.
“What? Can you speak up?”
“No, they’ll hear me. Please just come.”
“Who is this?” Goose bumps rose on his arms as he tried to place the voice. It was clearly a woman, but it didn’t sound like Fiona.
“The receptionist. From Mr. Salvatore’s office. You were here earlier.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This man came in, dragging a woman with him. He threatened me with a knife and cut the phone line. Now he’s in the office, and he and Mr. Salvatore are arguing.” A series of loud pops followed her words, and she let out a stifled shriek.
“Oh, God, was that a gun?” Her voice cracked with panic, and she sounded as though she was going to pass out.
“I’m on my way,” Nate said. “Get out of the building if you can. Otherwise, hide and don’t come out until the police arrive.”
“Please hurry,” she said, obviously crying.
“Get to a safe place,” he said, racing out the door. “Then hang up and call nine-one-one.”
“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. “I’ll do that now.”
Nate hung up and practically jumped into his car, tearing out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. The bitter stench of burned rubber filled his nose, and he kept one hand on the wheel while he dialed with the other.
It took Owen a moment to answer, but once he did Nate quickly filled him in on the details.
“I’ll meet you there,” Owen said. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“I can’t make any promises,” Nate replied. He normally wasn’t so reckless, but adrenaline pumped through his veins and made him a lot more willing to take chances. Especially if it meant getting Fiona back.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and returned his focus to the road.
“Hold on, baby,” he muttered. “Just hold on.”
Chapter 13
“Why won’t you just let me go?”
Sal pushed her out the door to the parking lot. Her feet sank into the gravel, making it hard to keep her balance, and she wobbled a bit, bumping into Sal’s chest.
“You’re my bargaining chip,” he muttered, steering her toward an expensive-looking black car.
The faint wail of a siren sounded. Sal tightened his grip on her arm and picked up the pace, clearly wanting to escape before the police arrived.
It’s now or never, Fiona thought. If she got into the car with Sal, she might never get out again. The man hadn’t hesitated to kill his own nephew. There was no way he’d think twice about hurting her. And she refused to die at the hands of a violent thug. Not without a fight, anyway.
&n
bsp; Fiona pretended to trip and threw herself to the ground. The gravel bit into the palms of her hands, but she ignored the pain. Sal bellowed with rage and kicked out, landing a solid blow to her ribs that knocked the breath from her lungs.
She curled into a ball to protect herself, gasping like a fish out of water. Sal towered over her, yelling and pulling at her, but the pain from his kick drowned out his words.
He pawed at her, trying to get a grip on her clothes so he could force her to stand. She writhed on the ground, avoiding his grasp, and watched his hands from behind narrowed eyelids. He couldn’t get ahold of her with only one hand, which meant he was going to have to put down his gun...
There! He slipped the gun into his jacket and reached for her. Fiona let him grab her and draw her up, careful to maneuver herself so that she faced him as he pulled her to her feet. She only had one chance at this, which meant she had to do it right. If she tried to grab his gun too soon, he’d anticipate her move and block her. If she waited too long, her chance would evaporate.
She held her breath, trying to appear harmless. Waves of pain radiated from her side, making it hard to breathe, but she gritted her teeth and pushed the feeling aside. She could worry about her ribs later.
Sal pulled her close, shoving his face into hers. “I’ve had just about enough of you,” he growled, giving her a shake that made her head snap back. “Don’t push me.”
Fiona shoved her hand into his jacket and groped wildly, her hand bumping up against something solid. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled, jerking the gun free of Sal’s side holster. She pressed the barrel to his chest and glared up at him. “Let. Me. Go.”
His eyes went comically wide, and his mouth dropped open in disbelief. His grip slackened, but his hands remained on her arms. Fiona took a step back, keeping the gun pointed at his chest. The thought of actually using it made her stomach cramp, but she had to put on a brave face so Sal wouldn’t know she was bluffing.
