What if trying to rescue her was a waste of time?
And what if it wasn’t?
She stood looking up into the dark foliage not knowing what to do. To be brave, which had gotten her into this predicament in the first place, or to run and to trust luck that she could escape and find someone trustworthy to ask for help?
Even as she weighed her options, she knew she couldn’t leave her friend. Not now. Irene reached up for a branch above her head and started to climb.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lucy followed the vehicle at a distance, terrified of getting too close and equally terrified of losing them, which she could easily do if they turned off their headlights.
She shadowed them for twenty minutes, the person ahead going through several rudimentary surveillance detection routines but nothing Lucy couldn’t handle. She was grateful the roads were virtually empty of traffic in this quiet part of the country. She hoped to hell the cell phone call was still connected. It was her one link to backup. Assuming Max trusted her enough to listen.
Which he probably didn’t, but the FBI would want to know what she might be up to. Even if they thought she was a bad guy, and in the wind, they’d track the signal. Even if they thought it was a wild goose chase, surely, they’d track her.
And, in doing so, hopefully they’d be able to get a location on the girls…assuming the person who picked up the ransom was going to where the girls were being held.
She frowned. After reading the reports regarding the other hostage incidents, she realized that might not be the case, but this would hopefully give the FBI some sort of starting point should the hostage takers renege on their promise to release the girls.
Up ahead, the vehicle turned into a driveway. Lucy pulled up on the side of the road. A stand of trees stood between her and wherever the car was going. It had to be a house. Lucy rode bumpily into the woods as far as she could go, parked the bike, and got off the machine. She took off the helmet and checked the cell in her pocket. The call was still connected.
“I followed the car that I am hoping picked up the ransom”—otherwise she’d feel like an utter fool and look like a rank amateur—“to a rundown villa where I am right now.” She looked around and hoped Max was still listening. “Actually, I don’t even know where I am.”
“Lucy.” Max used that deep mellow tone that wanted to stroke all her senses and make her purr.
“Sorry, Max. I’ll explain later.” She cut him off, hardening her heart against anything he might say. She knew he’d be mad and trying to work his negotiator magic on her, but she needed to focus. “I’m going to explore the property. I’ll make sure they don’t see me. I am not planning to make a move. I simply want to see if this is the right place before we waste more time.”
She debated what to do with the cell and ended up leaving the line open but putting the ringer and notifications on silent. Then she stuffed it back in her hoodie pocket. Maybe it would serve as some kind of witness if the kidnappers caught her. Some sort of evidence in her defense.
She crept forward, aware that dawn wasn’t that far away and preferring the dark for her scouting activities. She hurried through the trees, careful of her footing on the old, gnarled roots.
Up ahead, surrounded by brambles and overgrown brush, was a tall house enclosed by a walled garden.
A light was shining on the ground floor.
She crept forward, skirting the briars and reaching a twelve-foot wall. She found a place where she could climb the crumbling stone and took in the scene. There were two cars in the driveway.
She needed to get closer, much closer. She decided to stay on this side of the wall and use it for cover. See if she could figure out if this was where the kidnappers were hiding or simply an old farmhouse someone was in the process of renovating.
If she’d lost the money, her efforts might all be for nothing, or perhaps the girls had already been released while she was playing covert-op games. She didn’t mind looking like an idiot, she was used to it. But until she knew for sure she wouldn’t give up on the opportunity to help Irene and Kristen get out of this nightmare alive.
* * *
Kristen had drifted off in an exhausted slumber when the scent of something noxious hit her nose.
She struggled into a sitting position.
What was that?
Nail polish?
No. Not nail polish. Her heart gave a terrified squeeze and then raced so fast she worried she might have a cardiac arrest. Gasoline. It was gasoline.
The man had told her he was going to let her go but, instead, he planned to burn her alive. And she’d trusted him. She’d trusted that he was telling the truth and had simply sat here like a fool.
The idea of burning to death scared every other thought out of her head. She’d rather be shot and die than be consumed by flames. She’d rather have her tongue cut out.
She was done being a whipped dog. She lay on her back and shuffled closer to the one end. Then she kicked the wood with all her might and, even though it didn’t budge to start with, she did it again and again. Because she would break it. She would get out of this fucking box. She would escape.
* * *
“Any problems?” She grinned at him as she came in the door.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He pulled her to him and kissed her hard. “You have the money?”
“In the car. Give me your keys, and I’ll transfer it. I’ll pour gas on my car after you’ve set this place alight. Hopefully, it will slow them down until we cross the border. You have the passports?”
He nodded and pressed the keys into her palm. “In the glovebox.”
Her eyes danced. She was his equal in every way, and he was looking forward to starting a fresh life with her somewhere else. A million dollars was a nice nest egg.
“Come on. We need to get moving,” she urged.
He hesitated.
“What is it?” She’d always been good at reading him. The kidnappings had been her idea. They’d practiced on a young diplomat from Canada to check their operating technique. It had worked flawlessly.
But this time was different. Originally, they’d planned to sell the ambassador’s daughter off to the highest bidder using the black market in Ciudad del Este, but things had changed. When the police had identified Alberto, it had been time to settle for less money, sooner, with fewer chances of being identified or getting caught. That meant they weren’t letting the hostages go. It didn’t sit well.
“We could release them… We could be over the border in a few hours—”
“You mean you haven’t done it yet?” She spoke sharply.
He shook his head.
“Either of them?”
He shook his head again.
“But the others?”
She meant the men he’d persuaded to help him with this scheme. He nodded. They’d all been easy to kill. They’d been scum.
The girls though…
She stroked his jaw then rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. “We’ve been over this. We can’t afford any witnesses.”
“They never saw our faces.”
She drew in an annoyed breath. “How can you be sure?” She held out her hand for the matches. “Do you want me to do it?”
He frowned. “No. I wouldn’t make you do something I couldn’t do.”
She kissed him again, and desire sparked along his nerves. She was the fire in his blood. His reason for living. He wanted to give her the kind of life she deserved.
“Go do it. I’ll put gasoline on my car. As soon as you’re finished, we can get out of here.”
The sound of banging started upstairs.
Her eyes flared and then narrowed in annoyance.
He pulled out his gun. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t tell her about the one that had gotten away. He should have. The police might already be on their way, but he doubted it. The girl would be scared and lost. There weren’t many houses around here, and she’d be worried about who to
trust. It would take time for her to find her way to a town or a police station. She was too smart to flag down the first available car. It could be one of the kidnappers. He liked her. She had loyalty and spunk, and that was more than could be said for most people. She reminded him of himself at that age before bitterness had corroded his worldview.
More banging.
“I’m going,” he said before the woman he loved could say anything.
“Hurry, or else I’ll leave without you.”
He grunted. He’d half expected her to run with the money and show him up for a total fool. The fact she hadn’t, warmed him—not that she’d have gotten far alone.
The banging turned to a loud crack as he started up the stairs. Sounded like Kristen Dickerson had finally found her backbone. Pity she had to die now.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Regan had hooked up the cell Lucy was using to a speaker so everyone could catch what she said.
“What’s going on, Luce? Talk to me.”
No response.
They almost missed the turn. As soon as Navarro realized, he pulled to the side of the road. Max checked the satellite images with Regan peering over his shoulder. “I’m guessing this is the place.” He pointed to a building about half a mile down a nearby driveway. There were a couple of outbuildings. “Got any NVGs?”
“Sure.” Regan looked torn. “We can’t be caught here.”
“So you’ve said.”
Regan handed Max a pair of night vision goggles then grabbed a pair for himself. “First sign of the cops I want you two gone,” he told Navarro and Dexter.
“Yes, boss.”
Dexter climbed in the back.
Regan shook his head. “I’m serious. One of us we can pass off as a buddy of Max’s helping out. More than one and it will be obvious we’re using official resources in a very unofficial manner.”
“We’ll be heroes if we find those girls.”
“And we’ll all be reassigned, if not fired, if this goes to hell.”
“So why are you risking the job you love, boss?” Dexter grinned at the man.
Regan pulled a face as he grabbed a weapon and handed Max a ballistics vest. Then he handed Max a personal radio so they could all communicate with each other without juggling cell phones. “You guys have got years ahead of you. I can retire any time I want.”
Max’s cell buzzed with a message from Iain Bartlett. The call to Lucy was still live, and he figured whatever the man had to say could wait.
“Call CNU. Tell Eban what’s happening,” Max said urgently. “Find out everything you can about this place.”
“Wilco.”
“Let’s go.” Max got out of the van and the first thing he noticed was the silence. Regan hopped out beside him and they both started toward the driveway.
“We need to observe,” Max warned. “They might decide to release the girls as planned.”
“They might,” Regan agreed. The murmur of his voice rang clearly in Max’s ear.
They started moving faster. Not a jog but a slow and careful run. Everything about this felt wrong but maybe he was being paranoid because of the Russian involvement. Maybe this was just a normal kidnap and ransom.
The house came into view.
Where the hell was Lucy? Was she armed? Max hoped she was armed. “Let’s split up. I’ll take the front, you take the back.”
Regan nodded. “Watch your back.”
He and Max melted into the night.
* * *
Irene made more noise than she wanted climbing the tree. It must have grown since the place had been abandoned—one of the branches penetrated the ground floor window like a sword. Higher up, the limbs were thinner but held her weight—just.
Irene managed to sit on one branch and scoot her way along to get closer to the window. She’d done a lot of gymnastics in the past, but this was the hardest thing she’d ever attempted with no safety mat. She leaned forward and grabbed the bottom sash window, easing it upward.
It made a racket that seemed to reverberate through the night and around the nearby woods.
She didn’t wait to see if anyone heard. If they caught her in the tree, she was dead anyway. Waiting wouldn’t change a thing.
The window jammed about twelve inches up and wouldn’t go any farther. She eyed the gap. She was pretty sure she could fit through it but, if she didn’t, she’d either be stuck half in and out, or she’d fall to the ground.
She looked down. It wouldn’t be pretty. She swallowed. Her throat was dry, and she hadn’t had anything to drink in hours. Still, at least her thought processes were clearer now even though she worried she might be getting a fever.
The tree limb started to bend in an unnerving fashion. She launched herself through the opening of the window. Her shoulders caught, but she was able to grab onto the radiator—of all things—gripping tightly with her remaining fingers, ignoring the way the cuffs pressed into her raw skin and the way the sill cut painfully into her hips. She scrambled with her feet then found purchase on the rough masonry. She pulled herself into the room even though the edge of the frame seemed to scrape every inch of skin off her back.
Then she lay there on the floor, eyes watering, and chest panting, trying to catch her breath and listen at the same time.
Her nose wrinkled. She could smell gasoline. Crap. They were going to torch the place. Maybe they’d already taken Kristen somewhere else? Maybe they’d stuffed her in the trunk of the car when Irene had been climbing the tree?
Shit, shit, shit.
Irene didn’t want to be burnt alive while rescuing someone who wasn’t even here.
Then the sound of banging registered. Oh my god. It had to be Kristen trying to get out of the wardrobe. Irene turned back to the window and levered it all the way open. It was their escape route, and she wouldn’t have time to fix it later if someone was chasing her with a gun. She crept over the old wooden floorboards, not for the first time wishing she had shoes.
Had they set the place alight yet? She sniffed. She didn’t smell smoke, but this old house would go up like a tinderbox the second they struck a match.
She eased the door open a millimeter and froze. She saw the kidnapper’s back as he entered Kristen’s room. He was carrying a gun.
Irene shook with fear. Then a voice from downstairs made the man pause, and Irene eased the door fully closed before he turned around and saw her. She held onto the handle and prayed he didn’t come in her direction.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lucy slipped silently into the kitchen and took a few cautious steps forward. She raised her Glock and aimed it at the woman who stood with her hands on her hips just inside the hallway.
Lucy frowned. She recognized that form, that hair, even if she was dressed in casual clothes. “Miranda?”
The woman whirled and put her hand on her heart. “Lucy!” Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. “You scared me. We have to go quickly. I caught a glimpse of a man going upstairs with a gun. I think he has Kristen.”
Everything came sharply into focus.
“Why are you here?” asked Lucy.
“I received a tipoff from a friend of mine and decided to check it out.”
“Alone?”
Miranda looked surprised for a second. Lucy never questioned her boss. “I didn’t want to disappoint the ambassador if I was wrong.”
“And you intended to rescue the girls? How exactly?”
Miranda shrugged and looking suddenly unsure. “I guess I was hoping it would come to me.”
I bet you did.
“How long have you owned a gun?” Miranda frowned. “Do you even have permission to carry that thing?”
“Since I arrived in Buenos Aires. And, no, officially I don’t.” Lucy stretched her neck to the right. “Blame it on leftover paranoia from when I worked at the Agency.”
Miranda pushed her red hair off her brow and laughed. “Oh, come on. You were a two-bit analyst who only lasted six months.”
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Lucy allowed a small smile to curve her lips. “That’s right.”
Because the truth was classified.
“Well, now you’re here we can go rescue the girls. Or we can wait outside and call the cops.” Miranda tried to sidle past her.
Lucy backed up a step. “I think we should both go rescue them.” Lucy indicated the other woman move ahead of her using the barrel of her gun.
“Why are you pointing your weapon at me?” Miranda’s voice rose high in fear. She was talking way too loud for anyone scared of being overheard by violent kidnappers. “Unless you’re somehow involved with taking the hostages.”
Always accuse your enemies of the things you are guilty of. Classic Russian disinformation tactics.
“Move it.”
Miranda hesitated. “You can’t seriously suspect me? I thought we were friends?”
Lucy held her gaze. Pressed her lips together. “I thought so too.”
Miranda’s eyes went huge as she realized Lucy wasn’t buying her denial. “Please…”
“This was all your idea. You orchestrated the kidnapping.” All the things snapped into place. “That’s where you were at lunchtime on Christmas Eve when you disappeared. You were making sure everything was ready. Did you plant the bug on Kristen?”
“You’re insane.”
“You told them she planned to visit the Christmas market. That’s how they knew where she’d be.”
The sound of movement came from upstairs, and both of them glanced that way. Were all the kidnappers upstairs? How many? Were they planning to set fire to the place and kill Kristen and Irene? Or release them and burn the house where they’d held them in order to destroy evidence? Had Lucy messed everything up by trying to be the hero?
Lucy wanted to rush past Miranda and run up the stairs. But if she turned her back on this cobra, they’d all be dead. The smell of gasoline was thick in the air. One spark, and the whole place could ignite.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never hurt Kristen.” Miranda sounded a little desperate. “Put the gun down, Lucy. You’ve gone mad.”
Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller Page 33
