A Perilous Pursuit

by Diane Gilmore

  Instinctively, Craig pulled Taylor protectively to him. A barrage of rifle barrels that surrounded them clacked back in unison.

  “I believe you are an uninvited guest here, mon ami,” Pierre said to Craig. “Now you will come with me. Robert will undoubtedly be pleased to have both of you in one place at the same time.”

  Craig and Taylor were forced back to the house, accompanied by their armed entourage. Cabrera awaited them in the library where Taylor had left him, leaning casually against the desk, as if he knew all along that she would only be gone for a few minutes.

  Two of the guards remained in the library. The rest disappeared down the hall.

  There was no mercy in his gaze as Cabrera surveyed his captives. “You shouldn’t have run away like that, Taylor,” he said. His voice was like a parent, as if the child had ruined everything with her one fatal blunder. “I thought were a smart young woman.”

  He looked at Craig and his voice hardened. “Where have you been, Phillips? You were stupid to come back here. You make my job too easy.”

  “So how’s the big man?” Craig replied with a cocky drawl, undaunted by his capture. He no longer held any fear or regard for Robert Cabrera. “Been slumming after my girl while I was gone, were you?”

  Cabrera’s cold, black eyes flashed angrily at Craig’s disrespect. “I should have cut you out a long time ago. But don’t worry, I’ll get Fairchild without you. With you and his daughter dead, he’ll come down here soon enough. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Is that why you were so generous to offer me a place to stay all this time?” Taylor asked bitterly. “To use me in your plan to destroy my father?”

  “You’re very perceptive,” Cabrera said. “That’s the one thing I found so fascinating about you. Yes, you were a part of my overall plan. Unfortunately, I became attracted to you. If you had only reciprocated my affections, things would have gone perfectly, and you would have had everything. Instead, you had to go and muddle it all up by holding a torch for Phillips. Now I must dump him, and you as well.”

  Revulsion gripped Taylor at the very thought. Age-old revenge, plain and simple, dominated his mind, his very being. He was alive with it.

  Cabrera turned to Pierre. “Take Phillips into the hills where he’ll never be found.” He looked at Taylor. “I’ll take care of the girl myself.”

  Montagne pulled Taylor roughly out of Craig’s arms. “Let’s go, Phillips,” he said, pushing him toward the door with the others. “I’ve been waiting to dust you off since our last deal in London.”

  The men gathered around him. Three of them held tight as they dragged Craig to the door.

  “Craig!” Taylor cried and lunged toward him, but Cabrera grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to him. She tried to swing at him with her free hand but there was no force behind the blow.

  Craig strained against their hold on him. “Kill me, Cabrera, but let Taylor go,” he said. “She doesn’t deserve this!”

  “Robert, please don’t do this. Please,” Taylor said, struggling in his grasp.

  “Shut up, you sniveling bitch,” he snarled, snapping her arm up behind her back and making her wince in pain. He looked at Craig. “You are both getting what you deserve and more.”

  “You worthless weasel!” Craig cried as he was dragged out the door. There was pure wrath in his eyes instead of fear. “You’ll burn in hell for this, Cabrera!”

  Cabrera laughed wickedly as the door closed behind them. He pushed Taylor away. Then he went to the door and locked it. The sound of the bolt lock as he cranked it seemed to echo off the walls. It was perfectly quiet now. She was locked in with him. She was now his prisoner, and he was going to kill her.

  “You did a very foolish thing, Taylor,” he said, slowly walking toward her. His voice carried a hard, menacing tone. His affection for her was gone. “You betrayed me, and now you must die.”

  Though panic swelled in her throat, she fought to remain calm and stall for time. The situation seemed utterly hopeless, but she refused to concede defeat, or at least give up without a fight. She had to keep him calm, keep him talking, while she tried to come up with a plan to get out of this room. If only she could reach the door.

  “Listen to me, Robert,” she said as calmly as she could, keeping her breathing steady. “Let’s talk about this. My father knows who you are, and I know who you are. He’s probably looking for me right now. Craig has become very successful in the States. His disappearance will start a massive search by the authorities as well, if they haven’t started already. Let us go, and we can walk away like we never knew you. You made a mistake in trying to keep him here and now killing him. Don’t make another one by killing me, too.”

  Cabrera scoffed at Taylor’s reasoning. “Mistake? I don’t make mistakes. You forget that I’m a lawyer as well as a businessman. I can handle anything the feds or your old man throws my way. Besides, it’s a little late for you to bargain with me, don’t you think?”

  They were only feet apart now. He was getting closer and closer. Acting fast, Taylor quickly grabbed the small chair next to her and flung it at her attacker with all her strength. It tumbled low, striking him at the knees. He winced and kicked it out of his way and kept coming, angrier than ever. His long strides made him appear to move slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.

  She turned to run from him but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her, wheeled her around, and pushed her back down on the desk behind her. He bent her over it as he gripped her shoulders tightly. “What did I possibly see in you? A whore would have been more loyal,” he hissed, his rage emerging again.

  She screamed as her hands flailed, knocking things from the desk to the floor. Papers, the desk lamp, pens flew in all directions. He shoved her farther down, banging her head against the hard, oak top.

  He clutched her throat and pressed his thumbs on her windpipe. “Let go. It’s over.”

  She kept fighting, coughing and gagging for air, trying to pull his hands away. Suddenly her hand felt something across the desk. The brass letter opener. She grasped it tightly. The metal handle flashed in the light as she brought it down with all her strength into his upper arm.

  He cried out and staggered back. Seizing the momentary victory, she slid past him and ran for the door. Clutching the letter opener, he easily wrenched the blade from his arm as blood began to seep onto his sleeve. Then he went after her.

  Taylor dove at the door and fumbled with the lock. The tumbler clicked, and she yanked the door open, but he quickly caught up with her. Strong hands grabbed her arms. He kicked the door shut and then forced her back up against it. They both gasped for air, winded from the exchange. Then she met his eyes. They were alive with rage.

  “Now that was a stupid thing to do,” he growled. “Why don’t I just use this on your face instead?” She cried out in pain as he swiped the blade against her cheek, leaving a bright line of fresh blood before tossing it against a far wall.

  She lashed out with a sidekick to his shin, but it had no effect on him. With her free hand, she reached up and slashed at his face. Her fingernails raked across his cheek, drawing beads of blood.

  Furious, he raised his arm and struck her hard across the temple. Her head jerked to the side, and she fell sideways, knocking over a nearby table and scattering some figurines. Her head rang from the blow, but before she could gather her wits, he reached down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back to her feet. He dragged her away from the door and forced her backward across the room. He pushed her down on the floor and straddled her, making any attempts at kicking him futile. She continued to scream and struggle wildly, blood trickling from the side of her head. She fought him every inch of the way, but she was no match for his large, muscular frame while lying flat on her back.

  He leaned over her now, pushing his forearm against her throat,
choking off her air supply. “Had enough yet, chiquita?” he said, breathing heavily as she began to choke. “I wouldn’t even want you now, American puta. Suffocating is a most unpleasant way to die. I’ll never understand why you chose it over me.”

  “No!” Taylor gasped. Her fingers clawed at his arm, gasping for air, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Relax, darling,” her killer leaned down to softly whisper into her ear. “There’s nothing you can do now. It won’t take long, trust me.”

  She tried to scream again, but her voice was cut off by his weight on her throat. He then gripped her neck with both hands and began to strangle her. She grabbed at his hands, tugging at the fingers that were closing tighter and tighter around her throat, but it was useless. Fighting became difficult. Time seemed to stretch out and slow down. The sounds in the room started to become more hollow and remote. Her eyes were losing focus. She was losing consciousness. She was dying.

  Then from somewhere in the house, Taylor distantly heard loud staccato voices. Gunfire. Doors slamming. Things breaking. A woman screaming. Feet pounding.

  The library door burst open, and people filled the room. Cabrera released his hold on her throat while she coughed and gagged, reaching for deep, precious breaths of air. He pulled her limp form to her feet and locked his forearm up under her chin, using her as a human shield. In one swift motion, Cabrera drew his .45 from his waist and pressed it to her head, just above her ear. His index finger gripped the trigger, riding it to the breaking point to fire. In her fright and confusion, she saw men in uniforms. Police.

  “Stay where you are,” she heard an American voice. It had an official ring to it. “Drop that gun, Cabrera!”

  As she strained to breathe, Taylor saw faces she recognized. Craig. And her father.

  “Dad!” she gasped out to them in a raw voice, her throat still throbbing. “Run! He’ll kill you!”

  “I wouldn’t try anything stupid, gentlemen,” Cabrera said calmly, holding her tight. The gun felt cold and hard against her skull. A swarm of police in his house didn’t seem to intimidate him in the least. Perhaps he believed his army of staff would come to his rescue.

  “You fucking sewer rat,” Craig spat at Cabrera, observing Taylor’s facial wounds. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to her!”

  Cabrera ignored him. “Make one move toward me, and she gets splattered all over the law books,” he warned the others.

  Bruce stepped forward, and he and Cabrera stared at each other for a long, tense moment. The past and its long-buried events sprang to life between them in the silence as if it were yesterday.

  “Perez,” Bruce said finally.

  “Fairchild. It’s been a long time.”

  Bruce nodded toward Taylor. “Let her go, Roberto,” he demanded. “This is between you and me.”

  Cabrera, clearly lacking the same sense of honor, gave a low, menacing laugh. “Not a chance,” he sneered.

  “I got involved when I learned Craig’s El Padre was you,” Bruce said icily. “I should have known you’d lower yourself to something like this. I guess your activities in New York were small time compared to what you’ve nestled yourself into now.”

  Cabrera’s hatred boiled up. “You fucked me once, Fairchild, but it’s my turn now,” he spat contemptuously. “I’ve been waiting for years to repay you for the shit you gave me, you fucking snitch!”

  Taylor struggled in Cabrera’s grip. “Shoot him!” she called out to others. “Shoot through me and kill him!”

  Bruce ignored Taylor and kept his focus on Cabrera. “You ruined our law practice,” he fired back, “and even worse, you almost dragged me down with you. You lost it all then, and you have only yourself to blame for it.”

  “No, Fairchild, I didn’t lose. Look what I have gained over the years on my own. I don’t intend to lose it now. I’m a survivor. Besides, I have something that’s even more valuable than anything you’ll ever have.”

  A painful sob slashed through Taylor as he tightened his hold around her neck. “I have your kid.”

  Taylor’s fingers repeatedly clawed at the at the arm around her throat.

  “Basta!” Cabrera hissed into her ear. “Enough!” She felt the butt of the gun jab harder against her head.

  Cabrera turned his gaze back to Bruce, and they continued to stare each other down. The need to finish an age-old vendetta was the only thing that existed right now for either of them.

  “Your big mouth sent me to prison, Fairchild,” Cabrera spat, “and I have no intention of going back there. I’m blowing this scene, and I’m taking your kid along with me. Try anything stupid, and your precious little daughter will get her fucking brains blown out.”

  What Bruce said next made Taylor’s heart stop. He didn’t bat an eye from his intense stare at his adversary.

  “Not my daughter, Roberto. Yours.”

  His announcement, completely unexpected, fell upon the room like a nuclear bomb blast. A shocked silence rendered everyone, including her, motionless for several long, agonizing moments. She ceased struggling as she felt a chill so icy it flew straight through to her bones. Surely she didn’t hear him correctly.

  “What?” Taylor choked, finally finding her voice. She stared at her father blankly.

  “Jesus—” Craig gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  Bruce ignored Taylor and continued his penetrating gaze on Cabrera. “Taylor is your daughter, Roberto.”

  Cabrera’s eyes flashed with astonishment for a second, then clouded over once again.

  “Don’t try to bluff me, Fairchild!” he challenged. His tone was as cold and calloused as always, but the look in his eyes told Taylor differently. She looked over to see his eyes shifting back and forth between his captive and the enemy facing him.

  “He’s my—?” Taylor cried. “No! Dad, that’s not true!”

  “I’m sorry you had to find out now, like this,” Bruce said flatly.

  Slow horror crept into her face. Her father was telling the truth. “But—how?” she asked tearfully.

  “Your mother was married to Roberto Perez. She divorced him while he was in prison, before you were born.”

  She was speechless, trying to assimilate all she had learned in the last few moments. Her mother was the ex-wife of powerful drug mogul Robert Cabrera, or Roberto Perez, for that matter.

  Bruce turned his attention back to Cabrera.

  “You were too busy making friends with every two-bit gangster in Otisville to know about Donna being pregnant,” Bruce said coldly. “I married her after she divorced you to give her child a name and a father I knew she’d never have. Too bad she isn’t around now to see you go down the toilet.”

  He boldly pointed to Taylor. “Look at your daughter, Roberto. Do you think she looks like me? Her dark hair, her complexion, are all yours. Go on, take a good look. Are you going to kill your own flesh and blood?”

  “You are a liar, Fairchild!” Cabrera shouted in anger, but his eyes darted down to scrutinize Taylor carefully, as if he were seeing her for the first time. His brow creased with remembering. He was losing control.

  “Give it up, Perez,” Bruce said boldly. “Even if you could kill us all and escape, where would you go? The feds are crawling all over this place like vultures on a rotting corpse. Everybody on the property is either arrested or dead.”

  Cabrera laughed “You mean surrender to your ‘authorities’? I don’t think so. Being a hero won’t come that easily to you. I buy gringo judges wholesale, remember?” He glanced at Taylor. “If I go down, she goes with me.”

  “You’re not going to worm your way out this time,” Bruce warned. “I’ll personally see that you pay for what you’ve done to Craig and, more importantly, to Taylor. She’s the real victim here.”

  “I’ll kill you first, Fairchi
ld!” Cabrera cried.

  He loosened his grip on Taylor and then, with an almost trance-like slowness, she saw him take his gun from her head and point it unwaveringly at Bruce.

  In that instant, Taylor knew she had to act. Her mind registered that the others in the room would probably not be able to stop Cabrera in time, and that his momentary loosening of her was her only chance to act.

  It happened fast. With a sob in her throat, Taylor shoved her body back against Cabrera and elbowed him with all her strength. Startled and caught momentarily off balance, he released her and stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the desk to keep from falling. She grabbed the gun from his hand, her fingers closing tight over the cold metal. She raised the pistol with both hands and leveled it at Cabrera. Then she fired.

  A few bright yellow sparks flew out of the barrel, and then the room exploded with the sound. Cabrera staggered back, looking at her with complete surprise, as if he could hardly believe what his newly discovered daughter had just done. The barrel whipped upward with the recoil and a shower of blood sprayed back on her in a fine mist, but she steadied her grip, with choking sobs, fired again. And again. She kept it up, pulling the trigger over and over, until only the harmless repetitive click, click, click of an empty barrel remained.

  Cabrera struggled to keep his sapping strength as the bullets slammed into him. He went down slowly with an odd sound, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He had an expression of disbelief, refusing to accept that he had lost the final battle and that he no longer had the power to refuse death.

  He lay on his back at her feet now. He looked up at Taylor, trying to speak to her, but he could not draw a single breath. His chest was frozen, unable to bring air into his lungs. He reached up to touch a trickle of blood that had begun to course down his temple from where one bullet had found its target. Then his gaze turned glassy and his body stiffened. He was dead.