Prisoner of Love

by Cathy Skendrovich

  Jake shook his head, blood splattering everywhere from his face wound. This was it. If he didn’t start tap dancing, the punishment would either be a slow and demoralizing death while he watched them do who-knew-what to Lucy, or a quick double tap to the backs of both their heads. Neither was an outcome he’d choose.

  Farelli negligently tossed the used handkerchief at Jake’s feet. Jake willed himself to look innocent. He was innocent, at least of these accusations. Their gazes held. Moments ticked by. At last Farelli turned away.

  Only then did Jake exhale. The pain in his cheek had reduced to a dull throb, though blood still leaked from the wound. But, all in all, he felt fortunate still to be inhaling and exhaling through normal entries and exits. Now he had to convince Farelli he wasn’t guilty of skimming the profits.

  “I didn’t steal from you, boss.” As defenses went, it wasn’t the best plan. Better to expound a bit. “Tommy acted all on his own. So did Delano. You gotta believe me, Mr. Farelli. You paid me great. I’m not into biting the hand that feeds me—”

  “Shut up.” Farelli’s voice cut across Jake’s, and Jake realized that the drug lord had been toying with him this whole time. He was livid.

  “Bring the girl here.” He snapped his fingers and one of the clowns—Cervantes, Jake recalled from when he worked with them—grabbed Lucy’s elbow and dragged her in front of Farelli. A serrated blade of fear cut through Jake, but anger was a close second when he saw the buffoon’s gaze drop down to Lucy’s breasts. The perv even pulled her closer to his side just to cop a free feel. Jake clenched his fists. He could see Lucy was shaking from head to toe.

  Ah, screw this. He couldn’t watch them torture Lucy. Not the woman he loved. Anything but that. He swallowed down the hopelessness as it curdled in his stomach. And still wouldn’t meet her seeking, trusting gaze.

  “I’m done with this shit, Nicky. Tell me where you’ve hidden the money, or she’ll get a cut on her face to match yours. On a man a scar adds mystery. On a woman? It’s a disfigurement. Don’t take too long to decide. One of you will tell me the truth. I’m giving you the chance to be the gentleman.”

  Farelli began turning that killer bling on his finger. It was hypnotizing in its evilness. Lucy’s head was bowed. Jake looked at that long ponytail, those legs she had wrapped around him in ecstasy. Those arms that drew him into her body, her heart. And he caved without contest.

  “I’ll tell you where it is, boss. Just leave her alone. She doesn’t know anything. I only keep her around for my down time.” He saw Lucy’s back stiffen. Ah, sweetheart, please don’t shoot off your mouth. I promise, if we get out of this alive, I’ll make it up to you. I mean it.

  Farelli looked from Lucy to Jake with shrewd eyes. Glanced down at his ring. Careful here. The guy could smell a lie. Farelli licked his lips.

  “I’m still listening.”

  Jake waited a beat. “It’s not here. It’s in Berdoo. In a safe deposit box. I don’t have the key. It blew up with J—Tommy. But I can take you there.” He hoped his slight stumble over his friend’s name went unnoticed. Damn, Jerry, what a mess you’ve left me to clean up.

  Farelli raised one brow. “I knew with the right leverage you’d tell me what I needed to know. But, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to keep little Miss Down Time company back at the house, just in case you forget why you’re on your way to Berdoo. You can take Marco and Civvy here with you on the private jet.”

  Shit, shit, shit. Lucy staying with Farelli? Not good. This was not good. She knew he was blowing smoke up Farelli’s ass. That he had no idea where Tommy had stashed his take. Unless the Porsche was the sum of all his ill-gotten gains.

  And then Lucy turned. Or rather, Farelli gave her a push, and she stumbled back between the two beef heads who’d been holding her earlier. She looked at Jake and simply blinked through those sexy glasses. She would be quiet. She knew the score. And she was counting on him to bring them home.

  The two guards around Lucy stood at attention, waiting for their walking orders. With a nod, Farelli released everyone from their positions while he took hold of Lucy’s arm. Then he paused to speak over his shoulder.

  “Oh, and Nicky?”

  Jake raised his brows and winced from the sting of his open cheek.

  “You have three and a half hours to fly there, get my money, and fly back. Otherwise I may just start a feminine finger collection. For every minute you’re late.” He winked at Jake and then he and Lucy disappeared through the plastic curtain, his entourage trailing behind.

  Left alone with Marco and Cervantes—“Civvy,” of all nicknames—while the service elevator lumbered upwards, Jake smiled crookedly and said, “Road trip.” He then turned toward the elevator to push the return button, and his companions moved to either side of him.

  He needed to get away from these two and fast. He’d said San Bernardino to buy himself some time, to get far enough away from the compound that he could take out these two schmucks. And then he would come back and rescue Lucy.

  The captain had always said he was ballsy. It was time to live up to the reputation.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucy waited for Jake in Anton Farelli’s sitting room, a prisoner in a gilded cell. The walls were covered in some swirly, golden wallpaper, and the sofa and chairs were covered in a crushed, gilt velvet. She had to admit she wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. The couch she perched on was soft. Farelli had water and sandwiches delivered to her by the guard who now sat across the room in a straight-back, French-Provincial-style chair by the only door.

  However, before he left, the creepy drug lord had taken one of her hands in his well-manicured ones and studied her fingers. And she knew right away what he was doing even before he gave her a grin with unbelievably white teeth. The intimidation had worked.

  Now she was sitting. Sitting and waiting. Waiting for Jake Dalton to come roaring over the horizon with a SWAT team and tanks and helicopters. Even though he had left with an escort, she had no doubt he would return for her. Hadn’t he told her with just one look that he would?

  But as time wound by, misgivings crowded her mind. Yes, he’d told her he loved her. After they’d both been through a traumatic event. Had they simply been words spoken in the heat of the moment?

  Her gut told her Jake had meant what he said. The way he’d said it, the way he’d looked at her, and the way he’d made love to her the other night, as if each time was their first time, served as proof. But she had learned over the years not to trust her gut. Too many Jobless Bobs had crumbled her self-confidence.

  So she continued to doubt.

  Whenever she looked up, she found the guard ogling her. It gave her the willies, the way his gaze would drift over her, pausing at her breasts and at her crotch. Every time their looks collided, he’d lick his lips, and she’d cover her mouth in the hopes of not throwing up. Would he go against his boss’s wishes and attack her? She didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. Please hurry, Jake.

  Besides his behavior, the guard carried a wicked-looking gun straight out of a James Bond movie. But he didn’t resemble any 007 she’d ever watched on the big screen. Stocky and stuffed into a suit that looked two sizes too small, the man was more like a heavy-weight boxer. His facial features appeared smashed together, as though someone had stepped on his face with a size thirteen. She shivered and found herself wishing for an interruption, even from the evil Mr. Farelli, anything to keep the sleazebag across the room from approaching her.

  But no one came, and her worst imaginings materialized. About an hour into her wait-time, she saw the guard rise from his chair. She tried not to watch him, kept track of him from the corner of her eye. With his gun in his right hand, he adjusted himself, and then swaggered toward her. Lucy jumped up and ran around behind the sofa she’d been sitting on, attempting to keep furniture between them.

  “M…Mr. F…Farelli might come back here any minute,” she warned, looking around for an escape route. Any way out. But the guy ke
pt advancing.

  “Nah. Women ain’t his thing. Money is. He don’t care about you. Besides, do you really think Mr. F’s gonna let you and Costas free when Nicky comes back with the dough? If he even comes back. You’re kiddin’ yourself if you do, sweet cheeks.”

  Her knees wobbled at his approach. She backed up until her butt hit a table, rattling the objects on top of it. Was that what was going to happen? They would kill Jake as soon as he gave them the location of the box? The box that he’d made up in the first place? She would be naïve if she didn’t consider it. The guard sauntered right up until their chests touched. Lucy grabbed the edge of the table behind her and swallowed the whimper before it escaped her throat.

  “Even if Mr. Farelli doesn’t care what you do, J—Nicky will kill you if you touch me.” At the last minute she remembered only she knew Jake’s real name. Oh, God, what was she going to do if this guy didn’t stop? She wasn’t about to get raped, not after everything else that had happened to her. She’d managed to keep safe all these years by herself. There was no way she was going to let herself down now. Since Jake wasn’t here, she’d have to think of something, and fast, because the creep’s expression told her he didn’t care one bit what Jake would or would not do.

  “I’m shakin’.” He laughed, reaching up to run his hand over the sweatshirt covering her breasts. She batted his hands away. Quick as a wink, the guard snatched her hair and yanked, hard.

  “Ow,” Lucy cried, but bit her lip when he shoved his scowling face close and used his other hand to grope her. His skin shone with perspiration, and his breath smelled like garlic. Her stomach rolled from the odor and the realization that he was going to attack her if she didn’t do something. Now.

  “No bitch lifts a hand to me. Now, show me whatcha got under all those clothes.” His rough hand fumbled at the bottom of her sweatshirt, and she stifled a scream. Who would come help the prisoner they were going to kill anyway? Nobody.

  The jerk crowded her now, arching her backward over the table, and Lucy scrabbled for something, anything on that table behind her that she could use as a weapon. Her fingers brushed against something solid. She seized it.

  He was snaking his hands under the sweatshirt, grabbing at her breasts, when Lucy took the object and swung it into his head. Hard. He toppled like an elephant. In reaction, great hiccupping sobs shook her whole body while she lifted her trembling arm to see what she’d used to club the would-be rapist. It was a brass statue of Hercules. How fitting. Dropping it beside the behemoth, she closed her eyes.

  Within seconds, Lucy gained some self-control and swiped the tears from her face. Looking down at the big slob, she wondered if he was dead. If you struck someone right above the ear could you kill that person? Could she live with herself if she had?

  No. She wouldn’t worry about that now. She needed to think. To escape.

  Now that the immediate danger had passed, the wheels in her brain began spinning again. This guy wouldn’t have been locked in here with her. He would have had a key to the door. And a phone. She could free herself, maybe call 911, and then make it all the way out to a car. Not probable, but she had to try. What if they drove Jake out to the desert and shot him as soon as they found out he’d lied about the safe deposit box? That would be the horrible but logical next step, after all.

  No, she had to assume she was on her own. If by some miracle they brought him back and she was gone, she could have the cops already on the way. But she had to search the disgusting guard for keys and a phone.

  Ewww. The idea of touching him sickened her, but she forced herself to search him. His chest rose and fell—so he wasn’t dead, more’s the pity. But the lump on the side of his head guaranteed her a chance to escape the Farelli home. If she hurried.

  She gagged as she felt along his chest and whimpered when she realized she had to go fishing in his pants’ pockets. Just as she reached for his front pockets she heard a sound at the window and she spun around.

  Crash!

  She squealed, leaping to her feet as a figure broke through the window and began pushing all the golden curtains aside. Not again, she thought with rising hysteria. But then her eyes focused and she realized that the person tangled in all that fabric was none other than Jake. With ripped jeans and hair stiff with sand, he’d never looked dearer to her than at that moment. Without any hesitation, and unmindful of all the weaponry he had strapped on, she ran to him, giving him scant seconds to open his arms and catch her when she launched herself at him.

  “You came for me, you came for me,” she babbled, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing his hips with her legs. She kissed his face all over, couldn’t hear what he was trying to say over her frantic welcome. And then their lips met, and all speech was suspended.

  Oh, God, he tasted like wind, and heat, and, yes, sand. Sand and safety. Security. She could have cried all over again, but she was done crying. And besides, he was returning her kisses, feeding on her lips like a hungry man, holding her head with one steady hand while she clung to his body like a second skin.

  He drew back enough to look into her eyes. “Are you all right? I was so worried about you. I didn’t know what they might do to you, how they would treat you—what happened to him?”

  He was staring at the walrus on the floor, her almost-rapist. She swallowed. He would murder the man if she told him the truth, and she couldn’t lose Jake to prison for that. She loved him too much.

  “I…I wanted the keys,” she hedged. “And…and his phone. I, uh, came onto him, and the rest was easy. I was just searching him when you jumped through the window.” She made herself look innocent in the face of his scrutiny.

  He looked down at the creep again and then back up at her, twice, before he finally said, “I don’t think so, my pretty little liar, but we don’t have time to argue. I didn’t come in very quietly, so we’ve got to get the hell out of here. Now.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. He’d accepted her story even if he really didn’t believe it and that was all that mattered.

  He motioned her to the window. While she started toward it, Lucy saw Jake draw back his foot and kick the guy in the head. She pretended not to notice.

  Jake looked out the window in both directions. Lucy stood as close as she could, trying to see around him and reveling in the warmth from his body, the safety he exuded just by being near her. God, she’d thought she’d never see him again.

  He drew his head in, saw how close she was, and stole a kiss. It was way too short. She wanted to melt against him like ice cream in the sun, but she understood that time was short. She pouted just the same.

  He grinned at her and said, “That’s a down payment for later. You’re all I thought about while I was gone, you know. Well, you and how to get these awesome guns from those douchebags. And now that I have them and you, well, I’m a happy man.” He kissed her again and started out the window, saying, “Do what I do. The car’s parked over that rise.”

  It wasn’t far to the ground from the window, and soon they were both crouching in the sand while Jake scanned the area one more time. At last he looked back at her with another of his lopsided grins. “Follow me.”

  They took off along the wall, hunched over beneath the other windows spaced along the exterior. Up ahead, before they could break for freedom, was what looked to be a portico flanked by potted palms, with two black Mercedes parked under it.

  Just as they came close, a door that she hadn’t noticed in the shade of the portico opened, emitting two black-suited linebacker types with bald heads and dark sunglasses. They talked rapidly, attention averted from this side of the driveway.

  Jake stilled, raised a finger. Scared as a rabbit, Lucy flattened herself against the wall alongside him. Their shoulders touched. She felt hot, cold, and faint all at once. They would be dead if they were seen. They would be dead if they were seen. THEY WOULD BE DEAD IF THEY WERE SEEN. As she struggled not to panic, Jake turned his head toward her. And winked
. She gaped at him, open-mouthed.

  The two men crossed in front of the cars and opened a door to another part of the rambling house. As it swung shut behind them, Jake said in the lightest of whispers, “Three, two, one…now.” He jumped up and they began their hunched run all over again. Lucy kept pace. It was all she could do, and it kept her from thinking of anything else. Like gunshots.

  They reached the end of the house in under a minute. There was barbed-wire fencing ranging the perimeter, and she imagined more guards or dogs. Or cameras. She started looking around and, sure enough, she saw a camera on the corner of the building, just slightly above and to the right of them. It couldn’t pick them up at this angle, but what about when they made a run for it? She turned to Jake, who was still crouched and also looking at the camera, studying it with narrowed eyes while it rotated.

  “How are we going to get around that?” she whispered. For all she knew, the camera could pick up sound, too.

  “Just like I did getting in. Carefully. I’m gonna go first, pull apart the fencing, and then you’re gonna move that sexy ass over to me and crawl through. Piece of cake.”

  She stared at him. Was he out of his mind? They couldn’t do all that in what? Thirty seconds?

  “How long do we have between rotations? Half a minute? That’s not enough time,” she huffed, feeling more hysteria rising up.

  Jake didn’t help any when he replied, “It’s plenty, sweetheart. I promise. Just do what I say. You trust me, don’t you?” He sobered. All traces of humor and excitement were gone. In their place was concern. Concern and…doubt? Before she could respond, he continued in a lower tone, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lucy. You have my word. You matter more than anything else to me. I’ll die keeping you safe.”

  She almost cried. Felt the welling of big, fat tears building behind her eyes. Gosh, she’d never been so watery in all her life. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, blubber about how much she loved him. Even opened her mouth to say it. But then he added, “So quit stalling and start running when I tell you to.” Before her mind completely wrapped around one more of his lightning-swift mood changes, he glanced up at the camera and then took off. Oh, she could kill him.