Micah wouldn’t be returning to the church for the service and he certainly wasn’t going to alert everyone as to what was really happening. The main problem he faced at the moment was getting his hands on weapons. When he told Leese that he wouldn’t kill anyone else, he had gotten rid of his guns, but now he needed them. The only place he knew where to find a pair in a hurry was to go back to Nadia’s and steal them from David’s belongings. Once David returned to the house and found the guns and Micah missing, he knew his brother would either think he was planning the unthinkable or things regarding Leese’s accident had come to light and he was after the killer. Either way, David would try hard to find him.
His other worry was getting a plane hired soon enough to make it to Hilton Head for his meeting with Sharon. He would need to be in the air within two hours if he was going to make it on time. It really didn’t leave him much room to call the airport and hire someone.
He left the pastor’s office and headed down the corridor for the exit doors. He didn’t need to get stopped at this point and the service was to begin in a matter of minutes. The corridor was empty as he moved quickly toward the double doors leading to the parking lot. Just as he was passing the men’s room door, feet away from the exit, the door opened and Ryan emerged. He had evidently been overcome in the sanctuary and went to the restroom to dry his eyes and collect his emotions.
Micah swallowed as Ryan looked at him without speaking.
“They’re getting ready to start,” Ryan finally stated.
“I—I know. Tell Pastor Anderson to start and I’ll be there in a little while.” There were no tears, no emotions, just a simple statement with a slight falter at the start.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to take care of something.”
“The hell you say. Don’t go pulling something stupid, Micah.”
“I’m not—I’ve just… I can’t stand here and argue with you about it, there isn’t time.”
“You found something out, didn’t you? You know who killed her. Is that what the phone call was about?”
Micah didn’t realize that Ryan knew why he left the sanctuary.
There was no time for arguing any longer as Micah simply turned and started out the doors, but Ryan wouldn’t give up.
“Take me with you. I’ve never killed anyone, but I swear I could do this no problem.”
Micah considered knocking Ryan out. He knew he could do it with one powerful punch, but he’d actually had come to consider Ryan a close friend; a true friend was something that he’d never had before, other than Leese. “Did you fly in for the funeral?”
Ryan’s brow dropped low at the puzzling statement, “Yeah, in my Cessna, but—”
“All I need is a flight out of here in a hurry. I can’t get you in any closer than that or Leese would kill me.”
Now he really looked confused, “What do you mean Leese would kill you? Just what did you…” That was when Ryan realized why Micah’s expression was so devoid of pain and sorrow, “Holy shit,” Ryan stated and then dropped down to his haunches. He ran his hand through his hair as he attempted to steady his suddenly light brain and then slowly returned upright, “She’s alive, isn’t she?”
“She won’t be if I don’t get moving. Can you fly me out of here? You’re going to have to leave with me now and you can’t go back inside and tell Candace or anyone else for that matter.”
“Let’s go,” Ryan simply stated as the two men began heading for Micah’s car. Ryan reached in his pocket and pulled the keys out for the rental car, unlocked it, and tossed them on the seat so Candace wouldn’t be completely stuck.
The Corvette was cranked as quietly as possible and the two men slipped from the parking lot and headed for Nadia’s.
CHAPTER fourteen
The last thing I remembered, semi-clearly, was sitting on the porch swing saying I was heading home. Right now, I was confused and groggy, but the bed was comfortable and I wanted to drift back to sleep. I was sure I was home; I just couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here. “Micah,” I said just above a whisper, my eyelids refusing to open. I tried to slide my hand to his side of the bed, but my arm felt heavy and unwilling to move. I yawned deeply, cracking my eyelids barely open. The room was hazy in my sight; it must have been close to nightfall. I yawned again. “Micah,” I stated a little louder, forcing my eyebrows to rise and help lift my eyelids.
“Did you sleep well?” came a male voice.
I recognized it was Jonathan, but what was he doing at my house? And what jolted me to consciousness was what was he doing in my bedroom? I jerked, still fighting the cloak of sleep draped over my brain, and that was when I felt restraints on my arms and legs. With my eyes now fully open, I realized this wasn’t my bed—I didn’t know where I was! Fear splashed over me as if I’d been dumped in ice water. No, no, no! This had to be a nightmare. Wake up, Leese. Wake up!
“Do not flail or you will injure the baby.”
“Let me go!” I screamed, struggling to sit up. He was reaching for me telling me to be quiet, telling me to stop thrashing, but I was so freaked out that I was panicking.
A door opened and one of the men who ran the airboat stepped inside. “Having a problem?” he sneered. “Is a woman too much for the big shot to control?”
That was when I felt the sting of being slapped in the face, twice. “Shut up and be still! Do you hear me?” Jonathan snarled. He gripped my shoulders so firmly I winced in pain. “You will lay here and be quiet or I will drug you; do you understand me? I will drug your stupid, pregnant ass. Do you want that for the baby?!”
I stopped fighting as my cries for help reduced to unintelligible whimpers.
“Good,” he growled at me. “Do not make another sound or you will regret it!” He turned to the man, “We will talk downstairs.” He rose and stalked out of the room; the man followed.
“Oh my God,” I cried quietly. I recognized where I was now. I was in the upstairs bedroom in the rancher’s retreat on the property. I could see the lake out the window in the distance as the sun was setting. What have I done? Micah was right about Jonathan—why didn’t I listen to him?! Oh my God, Micah must be going crazy; I should have been home hours ago. Were these men planning to ambush Micah when he came to look for me? I left Mom a note, so surely Micah was on the property by now looking for clues as to my whereabouts. He’d find the vehicles down by the lake and start searching—and he’d be unarmed.
The voices downstairs were becoming louder. Jonathan was arguing with them about something, but it sounded as if there were more than two. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. When the door opened, one of the boatmen walked in.
“Please,” I begged, wondering if I could convince him to let me go. “I don’t know what Jonathan told you, but you don’t want to do this. My husband is very dangerous, and—”
“I know how dangerous he is, but he thinks you’re dead,” he stated flatly. “Matter-of-fact, anyone who’s been watching the news for the last few hours thinks you’re dead.”
I stared at him, completely baffled.
He gave a small chuckle, “It was a shame to destroy such a beautiful car though.”
“My car?”
“Uh-huh, and even though I don’t like this asshole she brought in, I must admit it was the best job rigging a car I’ve ever seen. And the line of shit he shot the girl who drove it out of here,” he let out a low whistle. “That son-of-a-bitch is the best damn liar I’ve ever heard. I mean, after all, look at you: you fell for all the bullshit he told you, too.”
“She?”
He grinned, “She said you’d be so pissed when you found out who was yanking your husband’s strings, but said you owed her anyway for Jack and Ricky.”
“Oh God,” I breathed, my hand covering my mouth. Instantly, I was sick.
“I told her not to fuck with him; he’s one ruthless bastard, but with you as her leverage, she’ll have him by the nuts—I just don’t know how long
she can keep him on a leash before he goes ballistic.”
I had the distinct feeling this guy didn’t like the idea of toying with Micah. If I could convince him of Micah’s gratitude if he helped me, perhaps I’d have a chance. “He’ll kill her,” I stated, “and anyone who helps her.” I watched his eyes; he was nervous but he was trying hard not to show it. “But I know he’d be grateful if you help me. Please,” I said, searching his face for some hint he would listen to what I was telling him. “What’s your name?”
He seemed annoyed that I would ask, but he finally answered, “Dice.”
“Please, Dice, help me get out of here; I swear he won’t hurt you. I’ll tell him you—”
“I may not like jacking with someone as psychotic as your husband, but I’m dealing with someone just as psychotic downstairs. Personally, I think Giovanni has his own plans for you. Sharon must think the same thing or she wouldn’t have told us not to let him have his guns back. She wants us to keep a close eye on you two.”
The door opened and Jonathan peered inside, “I told you to leave her alone—get out!”
Dice rose slowly and approached Jonathan in a stance that looked like an egotistical challenge, “Hell, she’s no fun anyway. I told you we should have tied her up naked.”
“Out!” Jonathan ordered.
He left, but Jonathan simply stood in the doorway and stared at me. I turned my face away; I couldn’t stand to look at him.
“I will bring you something to eat.”
I didn’t respond. I heard the door close and his footsteps fading as he walked away.
I had nothing left but prayer. If Micah thought I was dead, he’d need my prayers in the worst possible way. Then I thought about my mom and Kimmy, and Ryan. These were the people who would be hurting the most. The baby gave a weak kick, and then rolled. “I’m so sorry,” I said in a choked whisper. I didn’t know what Jonathan put in the bottled water to knock me out, but I hadn’t been the only one affected.
I finally made sense of my restraints and managed to sit up on the edge of the bed. I needed to get up and stretch my legs, but I couldn’t. I was checking each restraint and each place it connected to the bed frame to see if I could wiggle or break something loose, when the bedroom door opened and Jonathan reappeared with a plate that had a mug and a handful of crackers on it. He had a bottled water under his arm. A different man also appeared, but he didn’t venture into the room, he waited at the door.
“You will not get loose,” he stated, setting the plate on the nightstand by the bed. “I do not have much in the way of food right now, but—“
“How long?” I stated unemotionally.
“The broth is still warm. I suggest—”
“How long?” I repeated.
“She is planning to wait for a funeral before she contacts him.”
“Why?”
Jonathan gave a strange smile, “She wants maximum suffering before she breaks him—it helps with the control issue.”
“Please,” I choked, “Jonathan—”
“It is Giovanni.”
“Not to me,” I said, hoping against hope he hadn’t been completely fake since I’d met him. I didn’t know many men in the mafia, but I had discovered each one I did know, had another personality they kept tucked away. “Please, Jonathan, don’t do this, please.”
“What is done is done, and, lovely as you are, you will not get, as you American’s say, ‘under my skin.’ No woman ever has or ever will.”
“So the story about your wife and daughter was—”
“False,” he confirmed.
“I need to walk a little; my legs are cramping.”
“The farthest I will allow is the bathroom, and you will do it my way.”
I watched him open the top drawer of the dresser and pull out a long coil of metal cable. It had a clamped loop on each end. He reached into his pocket and produced a small lock and secured the cable to a large eye-hook in the wall near the bed, and then he walked inside the open bathroom door. I heard the sound of another lock clicking shut. He returned and produced a pair of handcuffs from his other pocket.
“Give me your arm.”
“You’re going to treat me like an animal? Like a dog on a leash?” I stated in disbelief.
“I do not have to let you up. You can piss in the bed and let your legs cramp until you scream. If you want to get up, you do it my way. I will not ask again for your arm.”
Jonathan was actually very familiar to me at the moment; he was as emotionless as Micah could become when he was about to kill someone. I was treading on very dangerous territory. I slowly lifted my arm.
He clamped the handcuff on me snuggly, and then attached the other end to the cable. Three locks opened and I was, relatively speaking, free from my restraints—at least the ones that had tethered me to the bed anyway. My legs felt numb. I stood and swayed, nearly falling; Jonathan caught me.
“Careful,” he stated quietly, but he didn’t sound as he did a moment earlier.
I was certain there was another side to him, but he kept it well hidden. When I reached the bathroom, I realized the door wouldn’t close with the cable in the way, and I could barely reach the toilet. I peered out at Jonathan’s expectant face. “I need some privacy.”
He looked at the other man, “Close the door. Wait in the hallway.”
The man appeared angry, but did as he was asked—Jonathan remained.
“Would you leave, too, please?”
“No,” he stated with an even stare.
I kicked the door hoping the anchor would rip out of the wall and that the door would slam shut, but all I managed to do was make a deep, splintered gouge in the door when the cable tore into it.
“Do something like that again,” he warned, “and I will remove the bathroom door from its hinges.”
“Mafia asshole!” I snapped, loud enough to be heard.
I heard him chuckle. I pulled off my tennis shoe and wedged the toe under the bottom of the door, so I could at least sit on the toilet without him watching. My bladder was numb from the weight of the baby and from being too full for too long. I thought I’d never finish, but I took my extended time to study the bathroom. The window was ample size to fit through and appeared as if it could be easily opened. Unfortunately, the roof was steep and I didn’t know (if I managed to get the anchor loose) if I could keep from sliding off and falling. Not the safest escape plan for a pregnant woman, but my only plan at the moment.
When I finished, I silently fixed my underwear and skirt, but didn’t flush. I didn’t want him to think I was done. The anchor in the bathroom wall was a thick, steel eye-hook. If I could turn it, I could unscrew it from the wall, but there was no way to open the lock securing the cable to the eye-hook. I’d have to undo both ends and take the cable with me. The eye-hook wouldn’t budge. If I could find something to put through the eye as a leverage tool, I was sure I could unscrew it. The bathroom was devoid of everything with the exception of a half roll of toilet paper.
“Would it be too much to ask for a toothbrush?” I questioned, considering the handle would fit perfectly into the eye.
“A toothbrush?” he scoffed. “You are being held hostage and you are worried about your teeth? Anything else you need? Perhaps you would like a bottle of shampoo, a hairbrush, and some perfume while I am out collecting toiletries for you.”
I wasn’t going to answer his snide remark, but one more item might be helpful in getting the bolt from the wall. I flushed the toilet and pulled my shoe from under the door. “A bar of hand soap, too.” I opened the door and hesitated. I wasn’t ready to get back in the bed, especially not with the look he was giving me. He stood up, dangling the handcuff keys from his index.
“I—I need to walk. My legs are still a little numb.” That wasn’t anywhere near true, but I hoped he’d leave me alone for a while.
He glanced at his watch; his feet firmly planted, “Five minutes.”
“How much is she paying you, Jona
than?” I asked with a malevolent stare, hoping to find a way to uproot him from his spot.
“My name is—”
“I know what your name is, but I have a feeling there really is a Jonathan in you somewhere.”
He looked completely bewildered, as if he hadn’t heard me correctly.
I could see immediately I made him uncomfortable. My anger over the situation had helped me suppress the tears and emotions, but this time I let them rise to the surface and fill my eyes to the brim, distorting the room in my swimming vision. “Please, Jonathan. Let me go. Don’t do this, please,” I pled again, letting the huge teardrops roll down my cheeks. “I thought you were my friend.”
The scrape to his hardened exterior was visible for only a split-second, but that was all it took to make his discomfort level too much to remain in the room. He looked down at his watch and snapped, “Three minutes!” And he stalked out and slammed the door.
As fast as the door closed, I stepped up on the head of the bed and gripped the eye-hook with all the strength I could muster. Damn it! It must have been excessively long and imbedded through the drywall into a stud.
There was a nightstand near the bed. I pulled open the drawer hoping there might be something, anything I could use. A pencil! I couldn’t believe it. It fit perfectly into the eye. I twisted it with slow steady pressure to the left, trying my best not to snap it in two, but it was no use; I heard it crack. I removed it before it snapped completely through and placed it back into the nightstand.
The handle on the nightstand drawer was a possibility, but the screw on the backside was imbedded into the wood. I considered threading my necklace through the eye and making a wad of metal to grip, but that was when I realized all my jewelry was missing. I stood there fuming in anger when the door reopened. Jonathan entered and, once again, the other man waited in the doorway. I was ready to snap at Jonathan, but from the look on his face it would be wiser to use a gentler approach, “Why did you take my jewelry?”
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