WHERE TIGERS PROWL

by Karin Story

  Tom stared at him, managing to keep a tight grip on his emotions.

  "No," Trent continued, "I'm not ready to release her. She still has a role to play. And you, my boy, have a bit of penance to pay."

  "Penance?" The queasy feeling came alive in his stomach again.

  "Surely you don't expect me to forgive and forget?" He clapped his hands sharply, and a side door opened.

  A sedate Asian man paused on the threshold.

  Tom stared at him, and his knees nearly buckled. By some miracle source of hidden strength, he remained upright. The Asian gazed at Tom and nodded a greeting.

  Cold beads of perspiration dripped slowly down Tom's back, chilling and burning him at the same time. The slight, unassuming man gazing at him with emotionless eyes, had more impact on him than he'd imagined possible. He'd always known it would come to this. He'd just hoped he'd have more time before it happened. But luck was not on his side. If there was a God, he'd long since deserted him. And all he had left was his own strength of mind and spirit.

  The question was, would it be enough?

  A vision of Maris assailed him. She had all the spirit in the world, but right now, she needed him.

  He would survive for her.

  Yes, his strength would be enough. He'd damn well make it enough.

  "You remember Chen?" Trent asked casually, as if he were at a cozy cocktail party reintroducing two old friends.

  "Yes. I remember him quite well." Again he thought of Maris and that thought bolstered him as if she stood right there touching him, letting her strength flow through him.

  "Ah, well then, I believe Chen has some work to finish. As I recall there were a few loose ends he didn't quite have time to take care of before you so rudely left us on the yacht. And that was rude, my boy. To leave so suddenly without even a 'good-bye' or a 'thank you.'" Montgomery was smiling again, enjoying his little game.

  "Next time I'll be sure to send a note to the society column mentioning your exceptional hospitality."

  Rising to his feet and crushing his cigarette in the marble ashtray on the end table, Montgomery laughed heartily. "Glad to see your sense of humor has been restored. Welcome back, my boy. Welcome back." He pounded Tom on the back a couple of times. "Now you and Chen run along and have fun."

  Tom had the sudden impulse to put his head down and charge headlong out of here, knocking down anything and everything in his path, like a mad bull. But he squashed the feeling promptly. He hadn't been restrained this entire time because Trent had him by the balls and knew he knew it.

  Maris.

  If he made one move to escape or not cooperate in any fashion, Trent would happily wrap his hands around Maris's throat and do to her what he'd envisioned doing to Trent. What Trent had already done to Elise.

  That was a thought he couldn't deal with right now. Savagely, he shoved all thoughts of Elise to the back of his mind. It was too late to help her, but he could help Maris. He had to concentrate on the issues at hand.

  He had no choice but to follow Chen.

  With a glimmer of a smile, Chen gestured toward the door, obviously eager to get on with his job.

  Tom took a deep breath and ordered his legs to move. They refused. But with a firm, no-nonsense, mental shout at them, at last they creaked into motion.

  Looking into Chen's dark eyes, Tom knew that hell was about to get a whole lot hotter.

  Maris. Just think of Maris. Her smile. Her laugh. Her gentle touch. God how he loved her.

  Satan didn't even allow him a moment of peace. His voice slithered into Tom's ears. "Oh, and Tom?"

  He paused, forcing himself to look back at the smirking son of a bitch.

  "Try not to break Chen's arm again, or hurt him in any way." He motioned to the video monitor behind him, but Tom refused to look. He knew what was there. "It would be a shame to have an accident befall your lady fair. Just keep in mind, a tit for a tat." Then a large grin spread across his face. "Or maybe I should say, an eye for an eye."

  A sick ache settled in the pit of Tom's stomach. But he shut down his heart. He had to. There was no other way to survive and get Maris out of here alive.

  Instead, he let the raging storm inside him continue to build, carefully feeding it and nurturing it, letting it consume him and force all other thoughts out of his head.

  With his shoulders squared, and his back ramrod straight, he glared at Trent Montgomery, pinning him in place with his eyes.

  Montgomery continued to smile, but his lips thinned and tightened when he saw that Tom wasn't backing down.

  After long moments, Trent pulled his gaze out of Tom's vise grip. "Get him out of here," he grumbled to Chen. Then he turned away to look out the window.

  Chen started toward him, but Tom shook his head and began to move toward the door. A grim smile turned up the corners of his mouth. It was a small victory no doubt, but he felt infinitely better having won it. And he knew he'd deal with whatever mayhem Trent and Chen had in store for him, because even El Tigre had a weak spot.

  Trent was a cocky son-of-a-bitch. That was his weakness. Eventually, he'd make a mistake. And when he did, Tom would kill him.

  He was a patient man.

  Good things came to those who could wait.

  Chapter 24

  * * *

  Tom hit the concrete floor with a thump, managing to absorb some of the shock by putting out his hands. But the impact was more than they could take in their weakened state, his left one only recently out of the splint, and his right still sore from punching the door at the apartment. He fell onto his chest and rested his cheek against the cool floor, trying to gather his strength.

  The door behind him banged shut. He heard the lock turn and a deadbolt slide into place.

  Locked up like a zoo animal.

  He fought the black wave of unconsciousness that threatened to swallow him.

  Memories of his family sprang to mind. The sprawling ranch where he grew up. His parents. Carrie.

  He'd been gone for over a year. What did his family think? Had they written him off as dead? His parents would be sick with worry, but Carrie would be beside herself. She'd begged him not to go off with Trent.

  His family had met Montgomery once. Over a year ago, he'd taken a couple of weeks vacation and gone home. But two days before he was due back to work, Trent had called him. Told him they'd been called on a special assignment. They'd met at the airport in Colorado Springs and Tom's family had been introduced to him. Trent had been his usual charming self, but before they boarded the plane, Carrie had pulled Tom aside and told him she was afraid of Trent. She couldn't explain why exactly, just that there was something about him that wasn't right.

  That was the assignment where he'd discovered Trent wasn't all that he appeared to be. Maybe it had been Carrie's warning that had made him more cautious, caused him to watch Trent more closely. But that was when he'd caught Trent with his hand in the honey pot.

  And the rest had been history.

  Trent had whisked him away, and that was the last time he'd seen his family. He missed them. Missed Carrie. What was she doing now? She was going to love Maris. Yeah, Carrie and Mare were definitely going to get along.

  Maris. Every time he thought of her, locked up, drugged, in danger, his heart sank deeper into depression. She was here because of him. Everything that had happened to her since he washed into her life was because of him. How could he live with that?

  How could he live with himself knowing he'd led her straight into Trent's snare?

  His stomach cramped violently. He managed to crawl on hands and knees into the miserable excuse for a bathroom and heave into the toilet.

  Chen had been in prime form, his knife-wielding hand as steady and sure as ever. Maris was the only thing that had kept him sane. He kept remembering Genny's advice; to find his way back to the image that comforted him.

  Maris.

  He had to endure for her. He owed her that. He would get her out of here, no matter the cos
t.

  No longer able to keep it at bay, darkness swept over him and he slumped onto the cold concrete floor once again.

  * * *

  When Maris next awoke, she knew enough to protect her sensitive head. Carefully, she raised herself to a sitting position, managing to keep the large, throbbing object on her shoulders quiet and still.

  Her mind wasn't as cloudy as it had been the first time she'd awakened. Her gaze shot to the water on the table. Within a few minutes after drinking it, she'd been flat on her back again. It had to have been drugged. She'd gone back to sleep too quickly. Well, she'd sure as hell die of thirst before she'd be stupid enough to drink any more of it.

  A brisk knock sounded on the door.

  Yeah, like someone was coming to pay her a social call here.

  The door opened, and Maris's breath caught in her throat. He darkened the doorway.

  Steeling herself to remain impassive, she simply stared at him, forcing her heartbeat in check.

  "Hello, beautiful." He crossed to one of the straight chairs next to the table and lowered himself gracefully into it. "How are you feeling?"

  Maris continued to glower at him, refusing to give him any satisfaction. He terrified her. Yet her body surged with uncontrollable hatred toward him as well.

  He chuckled. "So you're going to play the shy retiring girl with me then? Really, my love, it doesn't become you. I've rather enjoyed watching your antics over the past couple of weeks. Surely you don't mean to disappoint me now?"

  "What do you want from me? she snapped, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.

  "I don't merely want something from you. I want you" He pulled the chair closer to the cot, scraping it across the floor like fingernails on a chalkboard. He leaned forward, until he was only a few inches from her. "You see, you are truly the most lovely thing I've laid eyes on, and that combined with your strong spirit and wily ways, has made me realize I've been missing something in my life. I've been missing you."

  She gagged at what she thought he was suggesting.

  He ran a fingertip down the side of her face. She shuddered and shoved his hand away.

  "Poor dear. I'll give you some time to come to terms with all of this. I wouldn't want to rush you after all you've been through. You've suffered a grave loss. You'll need time to deal with that."

  A large lump settled in her heart, not at all liking the sound of that, nor the look of mock sympathy in his devil eyes. "What loss?" she whispered, dreading the answer.

  "Oh, my dear, I thought you would have figured it out by now. Why, your beloved Tom."

  "Tom?" she croaked, her palms sweaty, her heart thrumming in her ears.

  "Well, yes, my love. I'm afraid Tom didn't make it. The man who's been after him, Juan Cardoza, found him in that apartment over the cantina shortly before I found you."

  "No." Her mind had trouble sorting through what he was telling her. No. Tom couldn't be dead. This…this…hellhound from the depths of the earth was lying to her. He had to be.

  "Yes, my sweet. I'm afraid so. As I heard the story, he was sound asleep in bed when Cardoza's men took him. He put up a valiant fight, but they were simply too much for him. He died right there, with the figure of Jesus on the cross looking over him."

  Maris scooted backward on the bed until her back bumped the wall. The crucifix over the bed. My God, she'd seen it when she first entered the apartment.

  Breathing became a chore and she could no longer take enough air into her lungs to satisfy her body's needs. The image of Tom lying below that cross sent cascades of fear and grief through her.

  No. He couldn't be dead. She'd been right there in the cantina below. She would have known if he was in danger. She had to have known.

  "There, there, sweet Maris," the monster crooned. "Be proud of him. He fought until the end, but now he's in a better place."

  Maris shook her head as hot tears blurred her vision, making it appear that there were several monsters bending near her, rather than just one. Wobbling wildly, she rose to her feet, still pressed against the wall. "No!" Then her voice building in strength, "No! Get the hell away from me! I don't believe you."

  He stood and looked at her sadly. "It's going to be okay, my love. Everything's going to be okay."

  "Get out!" she shrieked. "Get out of here, you bastard!"

  Smiling, he strolled to the door, then turned back to her. "Really, everything will be fine. When you're ready for comforting, I'll be here. I'll always be here for you, Maris."

  Maris grabbed the pillow off the bed and threw it at the tall man with a guttural growl. A crazed fury held her in its grip, and her brain no longer functioned properly.

  He merely side-stepped the pillow and sighed, then disappeared out the door.

  Unable to control herself, she jumped off the bed and began to wreak havoc on everything in sight. In a frenzy, she ripped the covers off the bed and threw them at the door. The books on the bookshelf were her next missiles. She didn't bother with the water pitcher on the table, just upended the table itself, not giving a damn about the liquid gushing across the floor. With a brutal stomp of her foot, she smashed the plastic pitcher into oblivion.

  The bastard thought he could drug her with the water did he? Well, he'd find out differently.

  She picked up one chair and batted it against the wall until it splintered in her hands. Sending the pieces flying, she proceeded to mete out the same treatment to the other one.

  Thought he could come in here, and sit on these chairs and proposition her? Bastard!

  After she'd destroyed everything at hand, she paused for a moment in the middle of the room, still clutching a leg from the broken chair like a club. The pain in her head drummed through her, but she determined to ignore it, instead letting pure, unadulterated hatred flow in her veins. And it felt good. Pumping and throbbing through her, burning a path through her entire body until she flamed with it.

  There was no time or place here for her grief. She knew what this monster was capable of. There was no doubt in her mind that he was responsible for the deaths of Elise and the security guard. And probably Sarah, too.

  And she didn't believe for a moment that he, himself, hadn't been the one to take Tom's life. No one could be as evil as he was. Not even Juan Cardoza.

  No. This man—this thing who had similar features to her Tom, but would never, ever be him—would die.

  She'd kill him herself.

  She'd kill him, just as he'd killed Tom.

  Get a grip, Rhodes. You've got to think.

  Several deep breaths later, her mind focused more clearly. Her heart still pounded, her head matched the rhythm, and the hatred flowed through her, but she mastered it, rather than it mastering her.

  Seating herself on the edge of the bare cot, she studied the room, seeking assets. There were none as far as she could tell. Lying back on the bed, she forced several more deep breaths, then through half-closed eyes, she discovered the small red light in the upper corner of the room.

  That evil bastard. He was watching her.

  Fury threatened to take over again, but she shoved it back down. Right now she needed to use her head. Easier said than done, however, as the hair on her arms stood on end. The thought that the demon could see her every move repulsed her.

  Keep it together, Rhodes. Keep it together.

  Okay, he was watching her. She'd deal with that and use it to her advantage somehow.

  Again her eyes scanned the room, noting the smashed water pitcher. At least the drugged water was gone. No! Wait a minute. Why would he go to the trouble of drugging the water in the pitcher when there was a sink in the bathroom where she could get water?

  Having a sudden epiphany, she stood and started toward the bathroom.

  Give him a show, Rhodes. Don't lose this opportunity.

  Clutching her stomach as if she were sick, she ran the rest of the way to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

  She searched every single inch of the bathroom
and could find no hidden cameras, or telltale red lights. Mr. Evil obviously was going to give her a modicum of privacy. How big of him.

  Confident she couldn't be seen in the tiny room that only contained a chipped white toilet and an equally attractive sink, she gave up her sick act, and studied the sink.

  The water pitcher had been drugged. But if she could get normal water in the bathroom, why bother? Unless…

  She unscrewed the small filter at the end of the faucet where the water came out. It came off easily, in spite of the old, rusted appearance of the metal. There, she discovered a small, pill-sized object inside the filter.

  A quick sniff gave her no information, but when she extracted it and touched her tongue to it, she got a slightly metallic, burning feeling.

  Clever man. He'd also drugged the water in the faucet. He didn't take chances.

  After carefully replacing the small pill object back in the filter, she set the filter on the edge of the sink, then used her hands to gulp the fresh water. Her throat ached from screaming at that beast. When she'd had her fill, she replaced the end of the faucet and sat down on the toilet to think.

  How in the hell was she going to get out of here? He obviously had plans for her or she wouldn't still be alive.

  Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably as delayed shock swept over her.

  My God, Tom couldn't be dead.

  Hot tears spilled from her eyes, running down her cheeks and onto the legs of her jeans as she bent forward instinctively. Pain knifed through her, sucking the breath and the life out of her. Causing aches in places she didn't even know existed.

  Not Tom. No. Please, God. Don't let him be dead

  Clutching her knees with her arms and drawing them as close to her chest as she could, she squeezed with all her might as her body shook with great wracking sobs.

  "Tom!" she screamed aloud, but her hoarse voice croaked, and the sound didn't carry past the closed door.

  She slid to the floor, and curled into a tight ball, and rocked back and forth.