Vince was behind this? All of this? The theft, the attack, the attempt on his life? But why?
"I could say the same about you," Simon said coolly. Could he reach the panic button on the intercom? But what good would that do? Quinn was shopping. And if the alarm rang at E.C.I.P, they would want to speak to their guard—the broad faced young man holding the gun.
The snub, black gun. The gun pointing at Simon. Simon looked from its muzzle into the eyes of the guard and felt the slippery knot in his stomach get tighter. Well, hell.
"Open the safe," Vince said.
Simon raised his eyebrows. "Once wasn't enough?"
"You don't think I'll actually answer that."
"I'm surprised, that's all. I thought you didn't like my cultured rubies."
"Fakes," Vince sneered.
"Then why take them?"
Vince pulled in his chin like a politician faced with scandal. "Because valueless as they are, they have the potential to drive down the value of the entire market."
Simon remembered what Dylan had said about the impact of the low-cost, perfect stones on the ruby market.
"So you're invested in gemstones, too?"
"I'm not discussing my portfolio with you, Simon. Open the safe."
"There are no stones in there."
"I don't want your stones," Vince said impatiently. His hard gaze flicked to the guard.
So Vince hadn't taken the rubies. But maybe his accomplice had. A slow rage rose in Simon's blood. He recognized the security guard now. This was the bastard who had put his hands on Laura. And murdered her father?
"Then what are you going to do with them?"
"They'll be disposed of. Slowly. I have to protect my investments. All my investments."
"Is that why Cooper here didn't kill me the first time?"
"You're worth much more to me alive," Vince said. "I thought it would be enough to take a few notebooks. Perhaps divert suspicion to your brother."
But he'd recreated his notes, Simon thought. And when he'd supported Dylan and his plans to market the rubies at the party, that must have been the last straw. "Your mistake," he said.
"My mistake was in not cutting my losses and moving on. I don't intend to repeat it." Vince nodded to Cooper.
Cooper grinned. A report echoed against the lab's ceiling.
Simon felt a slap on his arm. He stared down in disbelief at the ragged edges of his sleeve, the raw furrow through his flesh. He'd been shot. The son of a bitch had actually shot him, he thought with the part of his brain that hadn't closed down in shock. Blood welled, staining the shirt, dripping on the pristine floor. Pain followed. Simon hissed through his teeth.
"Open the safe," Vince repeated.
"Or what?" Simon said. His arm burned. "You'll shoot me?"
Cooper turned his head toward the tall windows overlooking the lake, his gun never wavering from Simon. "Somebody's coming."
Thank God.
"It's the girl."
Simon's relief evaporated. His heart hammered against his ribs. Laura? Not Laura.
"Maybe she'll go away," Vince said.
Not if it was Laura. She was too dogged to quit. Her determination was one of the things he loved about her. But now he wished she would turn tail and run.
"She's seen our boat," Cooper said. "She's coming up."
The knots in Simon's stomach assumed Gordian proportions.
Vince pursed his lips. "All right."
"You don't want to hurt a cop," Simon said. Kill a cop. Kill Laura. Sweat trickled down his back.
Cooper smirked. "I don't mind."
Son of a bitch.
Simon kept his gaze on Vince, his voice cool and persuasive. "Other cops get upset when it's one of their own. So do juries, if it comes to that."
"Not if there aren't any witnesses," Cooper said. "I'll take the door."
Terror stopped Simon's breath and almost froze his brain. The guard was going to shoot Laura from cover as she approached the house. She wouldn't have a chance.
"I could send her away," he said desperately. "Let me talk to her."
"You must think I'm stupid," Vince said. "Why would I let you do that?"
Simon's arm burned and throbbed, making it difficult to think. "Let me send her away, and I'll open the safe."
"What about…" Vince gestured to the bloody graze in Simon's arm.
"I'll wrap it. Or you can wrap it. Just let me send her away."
"I'm not coming near you," Vince said. "But if you can cover that up before she reaches the house, I'll let you talk to her."
Laura lifted her head. Gunshot. Up at the house. The sound smacked her hearing and rattled around inside her chest like a lead slug. Simon. Her heart died.
She launched herself at the path that led to the house, radioing for help as she ran under the cover of trees. Too late, too late, too late…
"Request backup on a shooting in progress on Angel Island, shooting in progress, Angel Island."
"Assistance en route," the dispatcher said breathlessly. "Stand by. Do you copy?"
No way in hell was she standing by. "Negative. I'm going in."
The radio sputtered. She flipped it off, concentrating on her approach.
She didn't have a passcard, damn it. Being Simon's girlfriend, even his pretend girlfriend, ought to include having a key.
Sliding her gun from its holster, she surveyed the windows and doors. There was a chance no one was monitoring the security system inside. Anyway, marching to the front door after hearing a gunshot was a sure invitation to getting her head blown off.
The balcony was her best bet, she decided. But before she could slip into the shrubbery along the side, she caught a shadow wavering in the glass by the front door.
She tensed. The door opened.
Simon.
Her heart gave a great leap and lodged in her throat.
He looked pale. Preoccupied. Annoyed. "Laura? What are you doing here?"
"That's a hell of a welcome," she said, lowering her weapon. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
He frowned. "I'm working."
Working? Outrage momentarily robbed her of breath. Well, he was wearing a lab coat. She'd never seen him in one before.
"I'll wait," she said.
He drew a sharp breath. He looked like hell.
Her cell phone bleeped. She ignored it. "Are you all right?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Something was wrong. She felt it like a spider on the back of her neck. She tightened her grip on her gun. "Where's the guard? Cooper?"
Simon raised one shoulder slightly, shrugging off her concern. "He went into town. With Quinn."
"You sent him away?" Hope and disbelief cracked her voice.
"I'm working," Simon said again, impatiently, like an advanced math teacher forced to explain a simple concept for the umpteenth time to a remedial student. He met her eyes. His were cold. "I don't like having people around me while I work."
Well. Laura fought the burning in her throat, the sudden chill in her bones. That was certainly clear.
If she had any pride, if she had any sense, she'd radio to cancel backup and then crawl away into a hole to contemplate her broken heart and the wreckage of her career.
She stuck out her chin. "What about me?"
"You said it yourself this morning," Simon said evenly. "You have your priorities. I have mine."
"You pompous ass," Laura said.
He winced. Recovered. He really did look bad. Ill, almost.
Laura scowled. She was here because she loved him, the clueless jerk. And she wasn't letting him send her away until she was sure he was safe.
"Let me in," she ordered. "I'm staying until Quinn gets back."
Simon blocked the door with his body. Sweat beaded his face. "Laura, no. I don't want—"
"Drop it," a new voice ordered from behind the door. "Or I'll kill you."
Laura's hand tightened on her gun. Too late. Vince Macon stepped in behind Simon,
his own body protected by the open door, the .22 in his hand pressed to the back of Simon's skull. No way could she level her weapon in time.
Her cell phone shrilled again. Denko, calling to demand an assessment of the situation.
Vince jerked visibly. "What the hell is that?"
"My backup," she said boldly. "They're on the way."
She hoped.
"Really? My backup is behind this door waiting to blow a hole in you and your boyfriend," Vince said. "So put down your damn gun."
Crap. Okay. As long as she was alive, she had a chance. As long as Simon was alive, she had hope.
"Don't do it," Simon said.
Ignoring him, she lowered the Glock and laid it on the steps at her feet. She couldn't risk another mistake. She couldn't risk him.
As she straightened, the door yanked open. A big guard in the black E.C.I.R uniform—Tweedledum. Cooper?—hustled out and scooped up her gun, sticking it in his belt. Vince kept his gun pressed to Simon's head.
The guard stripped the cuffs from Laura's waist and secured her arms behind her, jerking up once on her bound wrists. Pain knifed through her shoulder blades. She bit back a cry.
"All right," Vince said. "Downstairs."
"What do you want?" she asked as they were herded below.
"My notes," Simon said tersely. "My research."
"Aren't your ideas, like, patented? Protected?"
"He doesn't want to use my ideas. He wants to destroy them."
"Shut up," Cooper said.
And that's when Laura got it. If Macon really wanted to keep Simon's technology off the market, he needed to do more than destroy Simon's notes. Simon had already proved he could recreate his research. Macon needed to destroy him.
Terror clogged her throat. She glanced over her shoulder at Simon to see if the same thought had occurred to him. His face was grim. Pale. Collected.
Her mind raced. The only way Simon could stay alive was if he didn't open the safe. As long as his research survived in note form, Macon couldn't kill him.
"Stop staring," Cooper said, and shoved her down the last three steps. With her arms bound, she couldn't catch herself. He laughed as she stumbled.
The phone trilled again.
"Can't you turn that damn thing off?" the guard snarled.
"Go ahead," Laura said.
That would get Denko here in a hurry. Though after her radio call, she hoped—prayed—the chief was already on his way.
Vince shot them an annoyed glance. "Leave it. Open the safe," he ordered Simon.
With horror, Laura registered red seeping on the arm of Simon's lab coat. He'd been shot. These rat bastards had shot him. She wanted them dead.
Simon tilted back his head and looked down his nose. "Sorry. You lost your chance when you didn't let Laura go."
"I took a chance," he corrected. "And now I'm going to take everything." He nodded to the guard, who turned his gun on Laura.
"Open the safe," Vince said. "Or Cooper, here, will shoot your girlfriend."
Simon stiffened.
"That would be a really bad idea," Laura said. "You're going to piss off a bunch of cops if you do."
"Why, when I tell them how devastated I was to witness your tragic fight with your boyfriend? Poor Ford. He was so overcome with remorse he turned his gun on himself."
"You've been watching too much TV," Laura said. "My boss will never buy that."
"You won't be around to know. Unless…" Vince looked meaningfully at Simon.
"Don't do it," Laura begged Simon. "He'll shoot me anyway."
Vince showed his teeth in a smile. "Yes, but where? And how often? Do you really want to hear her scream as Cooper shatters one kneecap after another? Or empties his gun into her gut? I've heard that's a very prolonged and painful way to die."
"Screw you," said Laura.
"That is, of course, another alternative, but I don't think we have time. Too bad."
Simon took a step forward.
Vince leveled his gun. "The safe."
"Don't do it," Laura said. "Don't give them what they want."
"I warned you I can be very clear in my instructions," Vince reminded him. "Do you want to hear me tell Cooper exactly what I want him to do?"
"You don't need to," Simon said, his voice harsh. "I'll open it."
"No," Laura cried.
Cooper hit her. She didn't see it coming, couldn't have prevented it anyway with her hands locked behind her. Just… Pow. Stars, pain, exploding in her jaw and neck as she flew several feet and crashed into a lab table. And then pain in her side and blood in her mouth.
She spat it at him.
He raised his arm again.
"Enough," Simon shouted. "I said I'd open the damn safe. Don't touch her."
"We've made our point, I think," Vince said.
Cooper wavered on the edge of violence. He wanted to hit her again, Laura realized. He enjoyed hitting her.
She wondered if she could taunt him into hitting her long enough to buy them more time. Time for Denko to come to their rescue. Time to save Simon's life.
But Simon had already crossed to the wall safe.
"Open it and back away," Vince said.
"There's an inner safe," Simon said, as he entered numbers on the keypad. "A kind of box. I have to take it out to open it."
"You didn't have anything like that before," Cooper said.
Simon spared a glance over his shoulder. "Precisely."
"All right," Vince said. "But slowly. I want to see your hands."
Laura straightened painfully. They all watched as Simon turned from the safe with a metal shoebox-looking thing in his hands. His sleeve was red. His face was white. Lines of strain bracketed his mouth. How much blood had he lost?
"Looks heavy," Cooper said. "What've you got in there?"
"Notebooks, mostly." Simon set it carefully on a table.
In the silence, Laura's phone started ringing again. Vince jerked. Cooper swore. Both men were sweating. Time was running out for all of them.
Simon shifted the box slightly. His eyes narrowed in concentration. He made an adjustment. Entered a code. The box hummed.
Vince frowned. "What are you—"
Cooper grunted and froze like a statue.
Simon's quiet, lecturing voice came back to Laura. At the right frequency, the current stimulates the muscle fibers to a single sustained contraction. Tetanization. Temporary paralysis. Phasers on stun.
Oh, my God.
Cooper was paralyzed. Really paralyzed.
Vince was not. And Vince still had his gun aimed at Simon.
"Cooper," Vince snapped without looking at his henchman. Cooper didn't respond. Couldn't respond. His face was faintly pink.
"Cooper!" Vince turned his head. The gun wavered.
And Laura, seeing her chance, went in fast and hard.
Vince gaped, bringing the gun around as she sprang. Her boot slammed his crotch. The gun discharged by her ear—flash! bang!—close enough to feel the heat. Off balance, blinded, she fell, and heard a window shatter.
"Laura!" Simon yelled.
She scrambled, writhing on her side, desperate to throw herself onto the gun before Vince recovered and grabbed it. Moaning, he uncurled, stretching out his arm.
Simon stumbled over the other man's legs and stooped for the gun.
"Police!"
Laura registered the shouts, the thud of running feet. They came through the window and down the stairs. Suddenly the room was full of uniforms.
And every one of them had his weapon trained on Simon, holding the gun. He froze.
Laura screamed. "No!"
"Hold fire," Jarek Denko ordered, glass crunching beneath his feet. "Baker, are you all right?"
She struggled to sit. Her head and jaw throbbed. She could taste blood. "Yes, sir."
"He hit her," Simon said. "Jaw and side of the head. She fell into a table."
"They shot him," Laura said. "He needs transport to the hospital."
"Already on the way," Denko assured her. "You want me to take a look?" he asked Simon.
"I'm fine."
He wasn't fine, Laura thought worriedly. His sleeve was soaked with blood, his arm at an awkward angle.
Crouching, Simon looked around warily at the uniforms, all aiming at him. "Or I will be once someone takes this damn gun."
"Larsen," Denko said.
The officer lowered his shotgun and stepped up to relieve Simon of his weapon. The tension in the room eased.
Denko looked down at Vince Macon on the floor and then over at Dwayne Cooper. The guard still hadn't moved a muscle. His face was an alarming red.
"What the hell happened to him?" the chief asked.
Simon shuffled to the table, his back stiff, his steps dragging. "This is a prototype of a muscular tetanization device. I need to…" He adjusted the controls.
"A what?" Denko asked.
"Phasers on stun," Laura said absently. She was watching Simon. Compared to Cooper, who now glowed, the inventor's face was pasty white. She felt a thrill of anxiety. "You know, like Star Trek? Can somebody get these cuffs off?"
"Sure."
At Denko's nod, Rick Whelan came over and squatted by Laura. "Where are the keys?"
"On the boat. Damn it." Cooper groaned and started to tremble. So did Simon. "Simon?"
Laura pushed herself to her feet. With her arms secured behind her, she could only watch helplessly as he slid to the floor.
Too late, too late, too late…
Simon floated, tethered to the outside world by the hard, flat mattress under his back and the tube running into his arm. Alone in his mind with the pain.
His brain was foggy. His mouth was dry. His arm hurt like hell. The air was sterile. Alien. Phones rang. Lights buzzed. By his head, a monitor blipped and hummed.
He'd always had a thing for machines. That didn't mean he wanted to wake up hooked up to one.
He shifted to get away from it, and his hand brushed something soft. Warm. Alive.
He opened his eyes. Laura.
She hunched in a chair by his bedside, her folded arms resting on his mattress, her bowed head resting on her arms, asleep. A great wave of love and gratitude took him by the throat. Her face turned toward him. Her lip was swollen and bleeding. Her jaw, what he could see between her arm and her hair, was puffy and discolored. He'd never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.
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