Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller

by Toni Anderson

  Usually, he’d avoid naming a number first, but this wasn’t a normal kidnapping. Not anymore. Other factors were at play, and he needed to get ahead of the potential for the Russians to interfere.

  The hostage taker was quiet so long, Max thought he had him on the hook, considering the offer. “Assuming you have the girls.”

  “Ah. You want proof of life?” There was the sound of shuffling and footsteps. The creak of a hinge.

  Suddenly a scream pierced Max’s ear. Shit.

  “Say your name.” The electronic-disguised voice sounded like evil personified. “Say anything I don’t want you to say, and I will cut off your lips.”

  The distortion was turned off for a second.

  “K-Kristen.” The voice trembled in fear.

  Max glanced at Lucy for confirmation that this was indeed the ambassador’s daughter.

  Lucy nodded. Her eyes were wide. Mouth pressed into an anxious line.

  The voice distortion returned. The guy was a total pro. “And how much do you think your life is worth, Kristen?”

  “A lot. It’s worth a lot.”

  “Not to this man. This man, Max is his name. Do you know Max?”

  Presumably Kristen answered with a shake of her head.

  “This man, Max, who probably works for the US government, thinks you’re worth virtually nothing. How much do you think he thinks your friend is worth?”

  “I don’t know.” The girl’s voice was shaky and slightly muffled.

  “More or less than you?”

  “M-more?”

  “Good answer.” He laughed. “According to your friend’s daddy, he can raise two hundred fifty thousand by the end of today, which means Max here thinks you are worth precisely seven thousand dollars.”

  Fuck.

  There was the sound of a fist hitting flesh and a girl’s piercing cry which turned into muffled sobs. A few seconds later, a full-blown scream of agony sounded down the line.

  Shit. Fuck. Bollocks.

  This was bad.

  Lucy looked as if she was going to puke.

  Max desperately tried to deescalate the situation. “El jefe, talk to me. Is it fair to punish the girl for my mistake?”

  He checked his watch. Andy should be at the Lomakins’ house by now but, obviously, the kidnappers had already gotten hold of Russell. Irene’s father must have promised to scrape together every penny he could beg, borrow, or steal to save his baby girl.

  This was why Max needed Andy in place ASAP. No father should have to bear this torment.

  The sobs were growing quieter in the background.

  “There! I have your seven thousand dollars’ worth of the ambassador’s daughter. The pinkie of her right hand—her wedding rings will still look pretty. I will mail it to the ambassador so that she takes me more seriously.”

  “Is that how much it would take? Two hundred fifty thousand for each girl?” Max strove to keep the judgment out of his tone, even though he wanted to rip this man’s head from his shoulders.

  In the K&R world, violence was punished by crisis negotiators cutting off communications and lowering the amount of ransom payouts. Anything else rewarded the terrorization of victims. But when governments were involved, when the daughter of a United States’ ambassador was on the chopping block, certain rules went out of the window—such as UN resolutions not to fund terrorists. Unfortunately, some of the kidnappers knew this too.

  If possible, he wanted all these bastards locked up so they didn’t continue their evil trade, but his priority was always the safety of the hostage.

  “Hmm. Now that I think about it, that is still not enough money after all the efforts I have made. Not when I’ve had several offers for much more.”

  Max swore silently.

  “I don’t think the other buyers will care she isn’t as perfect as she used to be, you know? And perhaps I’ll no longer be able to control the behavior of my men. It is a shame, but we are growing bored, Max. Bored and tired of being treated like fools. Have seven hundred forty-three thousand dollars ready by tonight to add to the Lomakins’ two-fifty-seven or the girls will both be sold to someone who appreciates their value. Any tricks like GPS trackers or explosive dye, and the girls disappear forever. Any drones or aircraft trying to follow the money and both girls die. Do you understand?”

  “I do. You’ll release them both when you get the money?” An even million bucks.

  “I will release them after I have counted the money to make sure it is all there. You have my word.”

  The word of a man who liked to torture human beings for cash. Great.

  “I’ll call tomorrow with instructions.”

  The man hung up, and Max wanted to smash the headset into the wall. Instead, he placed it carefully on the table. “Sonofabitch.”

  Before Quinn or Lucy could speak, he dialed Russell Lomakin’s phone number.

  His friend Andy answered.

  “Thank god you’re there.” Max explained what had just gone down with the kidnappers. “Russell should have called me after he spoke to them,” Max said between gritted teeth.

  “The guy is fried. I don’t think he’s slept in days, and the wife is no better off. Don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ve got all their phones and instructed them not to leave the house for the foreseeable future. I think they already hate me so that’s nice.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry, buddy.”

  “Don’t be. This is what we do. Right now, they hate me. If we get their kid home, they’ll send us Christmas cards for the rest of our natural-born. If we don’t, well, then I guess I can live with the hate.”

  “Does he have that amount of cash on hand?”

  Andy laughed. “Hell no. He’s a bullshitter and he’s desperate. What I don’t get is, why are you moving so fast?”

  Max wished he could come clean with his friend, but he couldn’t. “There are complications,” he said carefully. He wasn’t about to mention Kristen’s possibly severed finger or the Russian interference.

  “Do I need to know?”

  Max was silent for a long pause that should tell Andy as much as his words did. “You might try reaching out to any contacts you have at the Foreign Office. See if there are any…rumors floating around the place.”

  Andy swore. Max agreed.

  “Make sure Russell finds a way to have two hundred fifty-seven thousand used US dollars in cash by the end of today. The kidnapper said he would give us details for the exchange tomorrow. Do not let Russell anywhere near the bag drop. If they call you again, let me know straight away.”

  “I’ve got this. I won’t let you down.”

  A stab of emotion hit him in the throat. He missed these men, these comrades in arms he’d shed blood with and whom he trusted with his entire being. “Thanks, mate. I owe you one.”

  “No worries. Hey, I spoke to Noah and Logan who are still in Montevideo. If this does wrap up sooner rather than later, I’m going to spend a few days with them there. Maybe you can join us?”

  He hoped so. “We’ll see. Let’s get these girls home first.”

  Max hung up. A few seconds later, his cell rang. He was expecting Eban to be calling with an assessment of the latest kidnapper call, which had gone to shit. Instead, it was Agente Ramon.

  “We found a match to the DNA on the ring you found.” Her gravelly voice purred over the line. “Cabral was pissed I ran the tests without his permission. In fact, he threatened to demote me.” She didn’t sound too worried.

  “Who was the match to?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” The sultry voice became firm.

  He rolled his eyes. “What do you think I’m going to do, tip off the suspect?”

  “I hope not because then I’d have to arrest you.” She made it sound flirty and suggestive.

  Max grimaced. “What happens the next time I have information to share or evidence that might lead us to a suspect? The Comisario General assured the ambassador that we’d collaborate on this case with PFA tak
ing the lead on the investigation, but now you’re closing us out from evidence we provided.” He let the silence ride for a full ten seconds before adding, “Should I go through Interpol next time?” And all the red tape that involved.

  “Fine. His name is Alberto Nuñez. He’s a taxicab driver who’s had a few run-ins with the law—mainly drugs, although he’s never been convicted. The PFA will stake out his house and follow him. With luck, he’ll lead us straight to the girls.”

  “Does he have known associates?” Max wrote down the name so he could pass it on to his people.

  “We are investigating but need to be careful. We don’t want him to know we’re onto him.”

  Duh.

  Could it be this straightforward? Were the Russians simply nosing around because they suspected the FBI was building a case that might entangle one of their people? Was the kidnap a simple K&R that just happened to have occurred at the same time?

  “Will you call me if the PFA makes a move to arrest him?”

  Ramon snorted. “Cabral might fire my ass for telling you this much, SSA Hawthorne. He is not a patient man, but this came from a piece of evidence you provided. You deserved to know it paid off.”

  “I appreciate you getting back to me despite possible repercussions. The FBI will be happy to cooperate in any way necessary.”

  He heard Ramon hum wistfully into the phone, and she made her voice deeper and more provocative when she said, “And I will be happy to reciprocate, Max. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”

  He frowned as he hung up. What was with all these beautiful women giving him green lights when the only person who interested him was the woman beside him who didn’t seem particularly interested?

  “We have a match from the DNA on the ring we found in the alley. Let me shoot a message to my colleagues at CNU, and then we’ll go update the ambassador. Don’t discuss this outside of this office.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Max leapt to his feet to answer it before Lucy could do so. He wouldn’t turn her into his general dogsbody.

  Catherine Dickerson stood there, eyes narrowed. Miranda and Iain Bartlett stood behind each shoulder. “It seems the only way to get an update from you, SSA Hawthorne is to physically track you down.”

  He was not looking forward to telling her about this morning’s call with the kidnappers. “Good morning, Ambassador. Let’s find Brian Powell, and I’ll bring you both up to speed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lucy sat on the radiator as she waited in the Legat’s main office. Powell had decided that the briefing be conducted behind closed doors, which meant she and Miranda were left twiddling their thumbs until they were finished.

  Adam Quinn was once again monitoring the phones, and another FBI agent sat at her desk typing something up with a look of intense concentration on her face. Everyone else was in the briefing.

  Were they about to start making indictments or arrests? Lucy frowned. If that involved taking Yahontov or some other powerful Russian into custody, then her career was screwed. Felix would burn her the moment he realized her intel had proven useless.

  As much as Lucy had a job to do, as much as she did not want those photographs to be seen by anyone else, she would not help people who hurt innocents. The memories of those screams over the telephone this morning would haunt her nightmares.

  She’d made contact with the Russians before Max had woken up. She demanded an answer as to why Felix was in Max’s hotel last night.

  She’d received an immediate but cryptic reply. “To make sure you are doing what we told you to do.”

  Which was what?

  Keeping them informed of the FBI investigation? Or seducing Max?

  She’d sent them an update yesterday. It was a risk to contact them again so soon. Why were they so damn squirrelly about knowing what was going on? What were they really up to?

  They’d obviously deployed their backup weapon in the red dress in case Lucy hadn’t “used her charms” on Max. Her mouth went dry. The idea of seducing Max the way Sergio had seduced her made her ill. Not because she wasn’t attracted to him—she definitely was. But more than that. She liked him. She really liked him.

  She would destroy herself before she hurt Max Hawthorne.

  Miranda came over to stand beside Lucy, a look of sadness washing over her features as she stared out the window.

  “The last few days seem to have lasted years.” Miranda turned to lean against the nearby wall.

  Lucy nodded in agreement.

  Miranda’s lips formed an unamused smile. “I haven’t seen my apartment in forever. Good thing I don’t own a cat.”

  “Didn’t you have plans to go away after Christmas?” Lucy had planned to cover Miranda’s absence.

  Miranda nodded. Tired lines formed around her eyes. “I was supposed to head to the beach tomorrow, but I can hardly leave Catherine and Phillip now. They need me.”

  “Sorry. I know you were looking forward to it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll go when this situation is over.” Miranda waved away Lucy’s concern. Her lips widened into a smile, and she lowered her voice. “I notice you and the negotiator seem to be getting on well.”

  Lucy felt her face grow warm as she remembered the kiss they’d shared and the fantasies she’d woven around it in bed last night. She forced a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just work.”

  “Pity.” Miranda stretched out her neck.

  It was a pity. The longing that had been growing inside Lucy since Max Hawthorne had walked into the room seemed to constantly expand. Too bad it was doomed from the start.

  “How are Catherine and Phillip really holding up?” Lucy changed the subject.

  Miranda’s eyes widened and then she grimaced, looking pensive. “About as well as you’d expect. Neither of them is sleeping. Phillip spent most of last night crying while he went over footage of the girls shopping on Christmas Eve.”

  The image of Miranda and Phillip sitting close together on the couch last night flashed into Lucy’s brain.

  “Is he okay?” asked Lucy.

  “Not really. He blames himself for not taking better precautions. I suppose we all do.” Miranda stared down at her pretty shoes.

  The FBI agent who’d been typing stood and strode quickly through the door, as if she had something important to share with the Legat.

  Miranda brushed imaginary lint off her jacket. “Catherine worked until one AM and then finally allowed me to give her a sleeping pill. I woke her at seven.”

  “How’s Kevin handling things?” asked Lucy.

  Miranda’s shoulder twitched. “He’s in his room playing video games most of the time.”

  Emotion balled in Lucy’s throat. She should have visited him. She texted him quickly, to remind him she was there for him if he needed anything. But he was a fifteen-year-old boy. He wasn’t likely to cry on her shoulder.

  “You could pop up and see him if you want,” Miranda offered. “I’ll text you once they come out of the meeting.”

  Lucy was torn. “SSA Hawthorne specifically asked me to stick around until he was done.”

  Miranda tilted her head. “Do they have any leads on the kidnappers yet?”

  Max had told Lucy not to tell anyone anything, but her boss would find out about the ransom soon enough anyway.

  “There might be a ransom delivery tomorrow.” The ambassador would ask Miranda to help gather all the necessary cash together, so Lucy wasn’t spilling secrets. She wouldn’t tell the Russians about the drop. She would inform them that additional agents had been assigned to assist with the kidnap investigation. They’d likely already noted the increased number of Feds working at the embassy. It might throw them off the scent as to whatever else was happening in the Legat’s office.

  Miranda’s face lit up. “Kristen might be home soon? That is definitely good news. I hope they didn’t hurt her.”

  Lucy looked away.

  Miranda started wandering around the desks. “I
wonder if I should organize a short break somewhere when she does get home. Where the family can relax in peace but have all the things they might need?” She frowned as she pondered.

  Lucy remained quiet. She didn’t know what would be best. It depended on what kind of shape Kristen was in.

  Agents suddenly came pouring out of the inner sanctum. The ambassador’s expression was grim as she walked through the room. Miranda immediately went to her side, vying with Iain Bartlett for space.

  Max headed toward Lucy deep in thought. His phone rang, and he stopped to answer it, staring out of the window. He hung up.

  “Change of plan,” he told her. He opened the door into what he rather grandly called the Negotiation Center. “Take a break,” he told Quinn quietly. “I’m going to have CNU transfer the calls from the kidnappers to my cell for the next few hours. A negotiator called Jennifer McCreedy out of San Fran will be here in about three hours. I’ll be back by the end of the day to confer on any strategy for the drop tomorrow, assuming we have an exchange. In the meantime, the ambassador will obtain as much of the money as she can put her hands on. Get some rest while you can.”

  “Where are we going?” Lucy asked Max as he started striding away.

  He turned and waited for her to catch up. “You ever been on a stakeout?”

  Lucy laughed. “A stakeout? Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about?”

  * * *

  Anger was the only thing keeping Irene from sinking into madness.

  She’d passed out when they’d cut through the bone. A blessing in this ongoing nightmare. The bastards had carried her back to her room and chained her to the radiator again. Pain radiated along every nerve fiber as the numbness faded. Tears flooded her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  Why had they cut off her finger when Kristen was the one they were threatening on the phone? It sounded like Irene’s dad had done everything in his power to cooperate with these bastards, and the Americans were lagging behind.

  None of this made sense.

  Irene wanted to lash out and smash something.

  They’d taken her down to the other room before they’d even begun talking to the negotiator on the phone. They’d planned this little demonstration of sadistic power no matter what the other man said to them.