Staring out the window into the backyard Sara was surprised to see the sun still shining. The neighbor’s calico cat stalked through the overgrown grass toward a fat Robin busy looking for juicy worms at the base of the Cherry tree. Just as the cat pounced, the Robin flew away, its bounty dangling from its beak.
Hoping it was a metaphor for their own situation, she turned in Nick’s arms and smiled when he dropped a deliberately loud, smacking kiss on her upturned mouth.
There was a sudden hissing over the line, like water hitting a hot pan. “Dangerous, my love, very dangerous. You better let lover boy know what happens when you fuck around on me. You remember that, don’t you?”
* * *
The blanching of color from her face was all the proof Nick needed, if he had ever doubted her story, which he hadn’t. The fucker was his. “Enough. Make your arrangements and fly to Seattle. Call me, and I do mean me. No more calls to Sara. I’ll tell you where from there—and Sheridan—make it fast.” He pressed end and taking the cell out of her trembling fingers, set it on the counter behind her, before drawing Sara into the shelter of his arms.
She snuggled into him for a gratifying couple of minutes before pulling back to look into his eyes, her own a melting pot of turmoil and fear. “Why didn’t you let me handle him, Nick? He was already mad, but now you’ve driven him right into crazy. It’s bad enough he thinks we’re colluding together, but to make him think there’s more between us…he won’t stand for that. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Nick was grateful she was still talking to him after he pulled that foolish stunt of male posturing. Talk about tweaking the tail of the monster—he’d spit in its face. But he couldn’t let the comment about Sara being bland go, she was the exact opposite of that. Exciting him with just a touch, he’d had the privilege of watching her fall apart in his arms also, perfection.
She’d put up with Sheridan’s maligning for more than enough years. She had him now to protect her and Jessica, to provide a buffer against her prick of an ex. “I know you wanted to handle this on your own, but I couldn’t stand back and let him tear you apart like that. I wanted him believing we’ve collaborated. That way he’ll be so busy formulating his revenge he won’t clue into the fact it’s a trap.”
“Well, I think you achieved your goal, he was spitting mad when you hung up. I don’t think we’ll have many days to pull this off. God, if he hurts Fiona…” She looked up at him, her face almost gaunt with worry.
Nick set his hand to her soft cheek and rubbed away tears, hating to see her upset like this. “He won’t, she’s his bargaining chip, and he wants what we have too much to screw with that. I don’t foresee any problems until after the exchange, which is when we’ll have to be prepared. He’s livid and he’s under pressure, both from me and the Cartel, his brain must be short-circuiting right about now.” Nick grinned, he loved it when a plan came together.
Sara came back into his arms, her own wrapping him tightly around the waist as her head burrowed into his chest. Nick laid his cheek along her soft hair. Closing his eyes he absorbed the warmth of her skin as he inhaled her delicate rose scent. The heat of the sun was a benediction to their gently swaying bodies and as he relaxed into the moment, Nick knew he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Adam would have loved this. He always said Nick would go down hard, long before he ever did. In fact, they’d had a running bet going. He would have been happy to pay the bastard, too, if he hadn’t gone and gotten himself killed. Now Nick’s memory had returned, and he knew how, if not quite why, his best friend had died, he was more determined than ever to see Sheridan behind bars.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tom stared at the now silent cell phone in his hand, stifling the urge to launch the fucking thing through the nearest window. How dare they try to dictate to him, didn’t they know better by now? Had he not shown them repeatedly who was running this show? Did they think this was some stupid game they were all playing? That if they out-maneuvered him they would shake hands and go their separate ways?
He was very disappointed with Nick, he’d thought him to be a man of his word, obviously not. All it had taken was the offer of more money and the lure of a siren and he’d flipped sides, the traitor.
Then there was Sara. She continually surprised him with her ingenuity. He’d always admired her beauty and charm, knew she was special. Since her enterprising foray into his office and subsequent escape, he was reminded of what had drawn him to her in the beginning, her intelligence as much as her beauty. It had taken a lot of grit to steal from him, he admired that. However, the fact remained that she knew too much and now apparently had shared that knowledge with her boyfriend. The thought of her in bed with another man had the predictable effect of making him see red, jealousy twisting his gut into tight knots. Even though he hadn’t wanted her sexually in a long time, she was still his, God-dammit.
He didn’t have time for this shit. Guerra was due to call any day now for delivery and he had his benefactor breathing down his neck to tie things up. There were rumblings in Washington that neither one of them could afford to ignore.
Tom remembered all those years before when the syndicate first approached him. When he became aware of how powerful they were and how many doors they could open for him, he’d had no problem following their dictates. Mother dearest was already in bed with the man in charge—literally—and on her demise they made clear to him how deeply indebted the Sheridan family was.
The leader, ‘Phoenix’, who Tom hadn’t met, placed him in Iraq and set up his first contacts, carefully monitoring the details of the transactions. After a couple such episodes, he was granted more authority and took full advantage, dispensing with O’Connor when he got in the way, even though they warned him to step back. He rubbed the empty space where his pinky finger used to be, a reminder of the cost of disobedience.
Arriving back in the U.S. he took up his position at a leading law practice, and presumed he was out, of no more use to them. He was wrong.
Moving up through the firm, he won himself an appointment to the U.S. Attorney’s office. Then, not long after, a key case went to trial involving the son of one of the leaders from the Sinaloa Cartel, a high-ranking lieutenant. Seeing it as an opportunity, and thanks to his ingenuity, Ramos Guerra escaped prosecution. And so their partnership began. Or so he thought. Instead, later he found he’d been nothing more than a marionette, guided along on invisible strings held by the Syndicate. Giving in to the inevitable Tom began to see the benefits of his alliance. His career soared, his dreams of making it to the White House coming ever closer.
Now everything rode on those files being returned intact. He hated to think what might happen if either the organization or the men he had dealt with learned of its existence. They might not see it the same way he did, as an insurance policy. Tom was under no delusions. He either remained useful to the Cartel and the Union or they would remove him, simple. Before that happened though, he was going to do everything in his power to get the damn thing back, and take care of his pain-in-the-ass wife and her lover boy.
Turning, he watched as the she-witch worked at the ropes binding her to the old wooden chair, her wrists and ankles both red and swollen from the hemp.
“You’re never going to get those loose. I was a boy scout, I think I know my knots.”
Sparing him no more than a glance out of frenzied green eyes, she kept her body twisting back and forth, trying to gain a millimeter of space where there was none.
Interesting. Seems Miss Radcliffe might have an aversion to confined places.
While he’d like nothing better than to delve further into seeing what it would take to break her, time would not allow it. For now. She really was quite lovely. Maybe he would keep her as a new pet after they were through with this. The corners of his lips curled upward. After all, there would be no Sara around to miss her.
“It seems your friend has decided to leave you hanging
in the wind. How do you like that, Fiona?”
Her eyes flashed emerald fire. “Don’t you say my name, you dirtbag.” She tugged on her restraints. “And Sara should leave me. She has a daughter to care for,” contempt dripped from every word.
He traced a finger down her jawline.
Fiona jerked her head away, “Don’t touch me, you asshole.”
“I’m well aware of who she has with her, she is also my daughter. Don’t you think I have the right to know she’s safe? Not running around the countryside with a mentally unstable parent.” He leaned closer, drawn to her inner strength of will.
“The only parent that Jessica has that’s unstable is you, you creep.” Muttering some unladylike curses she struggled against her bonds. “If I managed in some small way to help them to evade you and your cruelties, I’m happy.”
Tom laughed at her cheek. Even though she was obviously in a full-blown panic at the restriction of the ropes, she still had spunk. He became hard at the thought of taming that out of her with hours spent in his bedroom. Running his hand through the fiery tresses of her hair he grabbed a fistful, forcing her head back, before bringing his mouth down hard against her own. There was a clash of teeth and he tasted blood where he split her lip, exciting him more as he forced her mouth open with his tongue. Just as he entered her, the dark sultry taste causing his heart to leap in his chest, she bit him!
He pulled back, swearing at the pain. A triumphant smile formed on her bloody lips. Enraged, he lifted his hand and slapped her across the face.
Fiona cried out, her chair skidding up on to two legs before settling back down with a wobble, the imprint of his hand a deep red against her pale skin.
Tom wiped his hand across his mouth, coming away with a streak of blood, hers and his. As he pulled a pristine white cloth from his pants pocket and wiped it off, he contemplated the damage his temper had wrought. Her eye was already swelling shut, her full lips were swollen and red from his kisses. And still she stared right back at him, defiance gleaming from every pore. No wonder his vapid little wife found herself so easily persuaded to stray, thanks to this irritating creature.
His body urged him to show her who was superior, but he accepted that now was not the time. There were too many arrangements needing to be made for an anonymous trip across country. Last thing Tom needed was for the Syndicate to get wind that there was a problem amidst their ranks. He knew they would not tolerate even a hint of controversy. He’d been given a front row seat to how they handled opposition and had never forgotten it.
They’d arranged a car to chauffeur him across the city. A guard blindfolded him until they arrived at their destination. The screech of gulls and smell of brine permeating the air told him they were on the waterfront. They shepherded him inside a building before removing the blindfold, revealing a cavernous room filled with large wooden crates in various dimensions.
Tom followed the guard’s bald head to a side wall, two eyeballs tattooed on the back of his skull staring back at him. After pressing numbers into a small keypad, a hidden door opened into an opulent chamber filled with men, all in fine suits, wandering the perimeters chatting as they admired various pieces of fine art. A large steel barred enclosure took up space at one end of the room.
Two men, their heavily muscled torsos straining their designer cut suits, brought some poor bugger stark naked into the room and threw him inside the contraption, laughing as he fell to his knees sobbing for a pardon. The men outside the ring ignored him, talking and drinking expensive scotch while the robust scent of cedar and coffee from ‘Cuban Classic’ cigars hung in the air as bookies made their rounds.
Soon everyone took seats surrounding the penned enclosure. Tom followed suit wondering why he’d been brought there, and what they planned on doing to the man. A loud bell pealing startled him. The steel door on the opposite side of the enclosure slowly began to rise on chained pulleys. All noise, except for the victim’s frenzied pleading, seized as everyone’s eyes focused on the ring.
There was a feeling of expectancy as everyone leaned forward. A thunderous growl lifted the hairs as a humongous grizzly bear charged into the cage, his huge head swiveling from side to side as deep grunts erupted from his chest. Tom watched in horror as the poor idiot inside screamed and ran cowering to the cage door, trying to climb the thing, his skinny ass waving like a white flag to the beast that had caught his scent.
The men around him clapped in delight, shouting encouragement, knowing the sap didn’t stand a chance in hell. The bear, enraged at either the yelling or maybe having that ass waving at him, charged a few feet, bounced a couple of times, then rose on his hind legs, easily topping out at eight feet. He let out an ear-piercing roar before dropping hard to the ground, the vibration rattling Tom’s teeth, or maybe that was fright. With another deep chest grunt he charged the man, and lifting one massive clawed paw, swiped him off the gate and sent him flying across the pen. The man, screaming now in pain as his arm lay in bloody tatters, tried to get up and run, but the bear catching the scent of fresh blood pounced. And that was it; he ripped half the guys face off in another swipe before settling down to feast.
Nauseous, Tom searched desperately and settled on a nearby waste can.
Holy Fuck.
He kept his face turned away but could do little to stop the horrific sounds as the bear ripped and tore into its prey, meanwhile around him the others were laughing, slapping each other’s backs as if they had witnessed a great sport.
The silent guard appeared at his side and led him stumbling back through the warehouse, blindfolding him again before taking him to the waiting car. Before moving, a low rumble from the front warned him, “Fuck with the boss and that will be you, don’t ever forget that.” It was months before he could get half-a-nights rest after that. No, he had never forgotten.
Swallowing hard on the queasiness thoughts of that day always conjured, Tom turned away from the knowing eyes of his captive, taking in the plainness of the small room. He’d had this little cottage on the back of his estate built a few years earlier, as it became necessary to hold his meetings with Guerra in a more private location. It had a separate road winding through a couple miles of dense forest before veering onto his land through a well-monitored gate.
He’d purposely kept the interior unimposing. The people he dealt with had no need to know how wealthy his family ties had made him. There was a simply appointed kitchen with old-fashioned olive green appliances, and a solid pine table and chair set, currently used by his guest. Then through an arched doorway, there was a small bedroom outfitted with a single bed and a utilitarian washroom.
Striding the few feet to the bathroom sink, Tom wet a cloth with cool water before returning to Fiona and setting it against her swelling cheek, remorse hitting him as she flinched from the pain.
“Look, I’m sorry I hit you but you shouldn’t have bit me, you upset me, which obviously had bad consequences for you. I’m a reasonable man; I think we could be friends, we’re a lot alike. What do you say?”
The look she speared him with told him what her answer was going to be before a word ever left her mouth. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? There is nothing on God’s green earth that would ever persuade me to even give you the time of day, much less spend time with you of my own free will, that’s ridiculous.”
She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. That’s okay, he enjoyed a challenge. Lifting the cool cloth away, he trailed his finger down the fading red marks, smiling at the shiver of fear she couldn’t quite hide. Good, she should be worried.
“We’re going on a little trip, you and I. Your friend, Sara, has been busy. While you’ve been here worrying about her, she’s gone out and found herself a fuck-buddy. If I were you, I would be a trifle pissed off about that. She’s made a life somewhere else and forgotten all about you. Meanwhile here you are, the pawn who lost her money and her brothers vehicle, all for the sake of someone who doesn’t give a sweet shit.”
Fiona
scowled up at him as she spit out the words, “Screw you. I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work. Sara is my friend. It’s no wonder she left you. She never said exactly what happened, I guessed though, and obviously I was right. You’re every bit as big a prick as I thought.”
“Whatever my dear, sticks and stones. The facts speak for themselves, she’s living the high life, while you on the other hand...” Tom had found it paid to stick as close to the truth as possible when swaying a jury, it was the little manipulations of that truth that swung the vote. Leaving her to mull over what he’d told her, he stepped out onto the small front porch to make his call.
“I’ve found her. We leave in the morning. Get four of your best men together and meet me at the airport, and Sam…come prepared.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Frank pulled up in front of Nick’s and gazed across the road to Ms. Sheridan’s house. He hoped they’d managed to patch over their differences. He liked Sara, and had never seen Nick looking so happy or relaxed, even with all this crap hanging like a dark cloud over their heads.
They’d been blessed with silence from Jared for the last half hour, he was still slouched in the corner brooding. The two in the back were all chummy, leaning close, sharing notes on their mobile devices. He couldn’t wait to see the surprise on Nick’s face when he found out Adam was still in the land of the living, fully aware his reappearance was going to stir a hornet’s nest. There was bound to be some anger mixed in with the joy and relief, much as he himself had gone through. The two men had been the best of mates. He doubted Nick ever fully recovered from watching his friend get shot. It wasn’t something a man could forget.
“So this is it? Nick gave up the big city for small town U.S.A? That doesn’t seem like him.” Adam slid his cell into his suit pocket as his gaze searched the neighborhood.
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