“Move it, Mommy.” Billie waved the gun at her to get her going.
“Why? Why the bedroom?” In no particular rush, Calista dragged her feet. Virgil cut away from the conga line and went into Joshua’s bedroom. Calista glimpsed him approaching Joshua’s unconscious body. Joshua was the safest one here. She, on the other hand… “Lynda wants my baby.”
“Da,” Billie answered in Russian.
“You’re going to hold me hostage for the next fifteen weeks?”
“Not my call. But… You’re twenty-five weeks, almost twenty-six, right? You could deliver now, and the baby would be fine.”
Calista choked on the fear drowning her. Jewel kicked in response. Her baby wouldn’t be fine! She could have lung problems, brain problems, vision and hearing loss, and a host of other issues explained in a weekly pregnancy planner she’d been following.
“Is that the plan? Are you going to rip my baby out of my womb? My premature baby!” Her voice rose, approaching hysteria. Now wasn’t the time to lose her shit, yet she was close to breaking. Hold it together, girl!
Billie’s face scrunched in disgust. “Not my plan though it’s an option.”
They entered the bedroom. Billie strolled around the spacious suite. She took in the king-size bed in front of the electric fireplace, the alcove window, and the sitting area in front of the French doors to the balcony.
How were they going to get her out of here? Was it the front door or the roof? Her bet was on the roof. They’d almost succeeded at the beach house in kidnapping Joshua via helicopter. This time, it may just work.
“Where is it?” Billie asked.
“Where’s what?”
“The safe room?”
The safe room had back door access to the helipad on the roof. “I have no idea.”
Virgil lumbered into the room carrying Joshua over his shoulder. Virgil wasn’t the strongest guy and Joshua had put on muscle before the lockdown and weight after. He tossed Joshua onto the bed. Like a rag doll, he flopped onto the mattress, limbs flapping, and landed facedown. Calista rushed over and turned him onto his back. Though she struggled with his dead weight, not one of them helped her. The object was to get him to his mother alive, wasn’t it?
Virgil stretched his back, cracking several vertebrae. “Did you call?” He groaned.
Call who? Calista wanted to know.
Billie swung her knapsack off her shoulder and pulled a sat phone from the interior. Calista could’ve kicked herself. Anyone else she would’ve checked the bag, but she trusted the girl, felt sorry for her. Calista’s moment of weakness, moment of caring for another human being, had allowed the bitch to get close enough to threaten her life and the life of her child and everyone she loved. If she survived this, she would never make that mistake again. Never.
“What do you mean you’re grounded. The snowstorm is the perfect cover. Get your ass in the air. Now! Or you are dead. No place in the world you can hide.” Her Russian accent thickened with each angry word.
Calista pulled Joshua’s head into her lap, over her pocket with her phone. It was on, but Julius had no idea what was happening. He left the apartment with his family safe and sound. By the time he returned, his family would be gone. There was only one way to warn him. “If we’re going out in a blizzard, we need coats. Please, may we have coats?”
Used to taking orders from her, Virgil headed for the door immediately. Billie glared at him and shouted, “You don’t answer to her anymore! You answer to me, and I didn’t tell you to get them anything!” She sneered.
“I’ll get the coats.” Calista offered as a deflection. “I know Lynda would be pissed if her son caught pneumonia, and the last thing I need is to get sick.” She rubbed her bump.
“Get his coat.” Billie waited for Virgil to return with Joshua’s shearling—an oversized leather bomber lined with fur. Virgil stuffed Joshua into the coat while Calista trailed Billie into the massive walk-in closet.
“May I grab a coat?” She asked for permission instead of taking one. Appeasement opposed to antagonization, particularly when the opponent had a weapon trained on you.
Billie’s once expressive eyes were as dead as her expression. The girl had missed her calling because she could’ve made a fortune as an actress. She certainly fooled all of them. Calista didn’t move as the woman studied her with a calculating eye. Billie snatched a coat off the nearest rack and handed it over. “Happy now?”
It was Julius’ cashmere peacoat. Width and length, the coat swallowed her, but it served the intended purpose. The pocket with her phone was hidden.
“May I use the bathroom? I really need to go.”
Billie took a long look at her. A long look. Calista didn’t flinch.
“Sure. I can’t say I know what if feels like, but I heard preggos pee a lot. Virgil. Take her to the bathroom.”
If Billie expected her to refuse, Calista had to disappoint her. Virgil was a decent guy, until the big reveal that he was really a traitorous douche. The good thing: the toilet had its own room. Unless he wanted to come inside with her, she’d have a few seconds of privacy. Long enough to dial, but not long enough to speak.
She entered the bathroom and walked straight to the water closet. She opened the frosted door, stepped inside. Virgil blocked her from closing it until he peered inside.
“Nothing in here except a toilet, toilet paper, and a pedestal sink.” She pointed to each item.
“Just making sure.” He grumbled and stepped out.
Calista closed and locked it. Wasting no time, she pulled out her phone and at the same time pulled down her yoga pants. She swiped her thumb over the screen. As with Pavlov’s dogs, sitting on the toilet is an automatic sign for the bladder to release like Niagara falls. Not today. She let the pee trickle out. It was not easy.
Contact app.
Scroll to Julius’ name. Volume off, she tapped his name. She waited, praying he answered, praying Virgil wouldn’t force the door open and find her with the phone to her ear.
“Calista!”
He sounded concerned, angry, afraid. Did he know what happened? Was he on the way home? God, she wanted to ask, wanted to tell him everything, but couldn’t. She turned the screen off and returned the phone to her pocket. Calista finished and flushed. She exited the room to find Virgil waiting.
“Thanks for giving me some privacy, Virgil.” She washed her hands quickly and dried them on a hand towel. “So, you and Billie plan to kidnap me and Joshua. Were you in on this all along?”
“No. I contacted the Russian mafia. I passed along my interest to help for monetary gain, of course. Three million dollars is a lot of money.”
“I’ll triple it.”
His mouth puckered like he licked a lemon. “Yeah, I know you have millions, but no. I’ve already put myself in the middle of two powerful men. Double-crossing them both, that’s suicidal.”
She couldn’t fault him on his logic even though it sucked. “What happens now? Where are you taking me?”
“Not privy to that info. Ready?” he asked, his tone conciliatory, as if he wasn’t about to help deliver her to a man who wanted to hurt her and her baby.
“No.” But she stepped in front of him and exited the bathroom to return to the walk-in closet. Billie stood by the rear wall, waiting impatiently. She couldn’t decipher Billie’s muffled words, some in Russian.
Billie ended the call and turned to Calista as she pulled the 9mm out of her belt. “Open it?”
“Open what?” Calista played dumb. Billie pointed the gun at her bump. “You’re not going to shoot me.”
“Alright. I’m not.” She stepped close, into Calista’s personal space. Menace oozed from her body as she laid her hand on Calista’s bump. Terrified for her baby, Calista didn’t move. A smirk twisted Billie’s lips into a haphazard snarl. “That doesn’t mean I can’t land a few punches to your bundle of joy. Wonder how much damage that would cause at twenty-five weeks?”
Calista looked into Billie’s eyes and knew
the bitch would do it. She walked over to the light switch, flipped it off, then tugged on it. The panel opened, revealing a keypad. 8543. She pressed the digits, engaging the mechanism releasing the shelf lining the wall to her right. Velvet lined shelves displaying Julius’ ties, pins, belts, cuff links, and watches retracted and slid into the recessed wall.
The big reveal: the safe room wasn’t a room. It was a hallway linked to the helipad.
“Get sleeping beauty.” Billie commanded and strolled to the second keypad at the opposite end. She tapped it with her gun. “Same code?”
No. “Nine. Two. Zero. Six.”
The lock clicked. Billie grabbed the knob and turned. They were in a short tunnel linking the roof to the safe room. At the end, another door. No keypad this time. Confident, Billie strode down the hall.
“How long have you worked for Karpovilov?” Calista mined for information, hoping to find something useful.
“A few years.”
That stunned Calista. Did Karpovilov hire her when she was in the crib? “How old are you?”
Billie glanced over her shoulder at Calista and damn if she wasn’t a prepubescent teen for a few moments. “Never ask a lady her age.”
“Fine. How long were you on this job?”
“A few weeks. Long enough to get the lay of the land. Burn down your house, push Mrs. Connell down her stairs. Pretend to be her granddaughter. Virgil helped with the timing.”
Shit. Calista felt like a fool.
“How long have you worked for the Russian?” Calista doubted Billie would answer, but she had to ask.
Long pause as Billie weighed whether to respond. “Ten years.”
Either Calista needed to get Billie’s skin care routine or Karpovilov practically got her out of the crib.
Billie yanked the door open. A blast of wind aided the metal barrier, forcing it in the opposite direction and slamming into Billie. Calista jumped back. This was her opportunity to run, but she couldn’t outrun a bullet, and she couldn’t attack Billie without risking her daughter. If circumstances were different, the bitch would be on the ground pulseless.
Circumstances weren’t different. More than her life was on the line. She couldn’t jeopardize the life within her. Plus, where to go when Virgil blocked the hallway with Joshua on his shoulder. That left the roof, which wasn’t an option. Boxed in, unarmed, and pregnant, she had nowhere to go. She was trapped.
An opportunity would present itself, it had too. All she needed was a chance. She stepped out onto the roof, under the helipad. The secret door was well-hidden from view by the many support structures. For a hidden escape hatch, it ranked high, unless you were the one being secreted out of it at gunpoint.
“Let’s go!” Billie shouted over the howling wind and again took the lead. Calista followed to the metal stairs. Once they cleared the overhead platform, the wind turned vicious, whipping around her. Visibility was zero. The snow created a complete white-out. Squinting, she couldn’t see two feet in front of her. How was a helicopter out in this weather when the footprint of the helipad was a postage stamp in the dark, even with the space illuminated? Her worry shifted from Billie killing her to dying in a helicopter crash. She looked at Virgil, ready to plead her case for sanity, but he was calm, cool, and determined. She had no doubt he wouldn’t be swayed.
“This is your plan,” she shouted over the howling wind and for Julius’ benefit. Escape via the roof?” Calista screamed as the sound of a helicopter drowned out the wind.
Billie stared at her, a knowing smirk on her face as the wind played havoc with her hair. She pulled out her satellite phone and said a few sharp words in Russian. A staticky reply came back in Russian. None of it Calista understood, except for the last word. Jacko. That was the man Karpovilov sent to kill and capture them. “Is he on the helicopter? Is that where Jacko is?” Is that who they were delivering them to?
Billie glared at her as if she were the stupidest female on the planet, while Virgil leaned against the rail laughing so hard Joshua almost slid off his shoulder. “Jacovisky isn’t on the helicopter. She’s standing right in front of you.”
Well, that was a dose of cold water followed by a slap to the face, and on both heels, shame. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been discouraged by her chosen profession. Not like there were hundreds of black female bodyguards vying for employment. And it wasn’t that Jaco was female. It was the age. Even though Billie hadn’t spilled on the number, she was young, early twenties, though she could easily pass for a teenager. Who took a child from her mother and turned her into a weapon? What sick person would do that to a little girl?
Suddenly, the helicopter was overhead and creating a vortex of wind and snow. Tossed against the railing, Calista clung to the metal, else be thrown down the stairs. She looked up, squinting into the storm, but she couldn’t even see the outline of the machine. Yet it was there, threatening to steal her into the night, away from the man she loved, the father of her child.
A voice screamed through the sat phone, competing with the sound of the struggling engines. The noise increased from a low whine to a screech. It was going to crash, probably as soon as she stepped into the deathtrap.
“I’m not getting on that! It’s suicide!” She started down the stairs, slipping on the slick metal. Pitched forward, she almost rolled to her death. Both Virgil and Billie—one caught her arm, the other her coat—stopping her from breaking her neck.
Hauled back to the landing, Billie slapped her, hard.
Calista slapped her back. It was an automatic response she had no control over. Billie's arm came up, the gun in her hand pressed to Calista’s bump. Calista met Billie’s dead, ocean blue eyes and knew Jaco would kill her without a qualm if she didn’t have direct orders to bring her and Joshua to Karpovilov alive. She’d be sure to thank him if she survived.
The gun remained on her belly as Billie held out her other hand.
“What?” Calista snarled above the storm.
“The phone. I know you have one on you.”
No point denying it. She peeled back Julius’ oversized coat and fished her phone out of her pocket. A split-second decision and she brought it to her lips. “I love you, Julius.” She shouted the words and heard him scream her name before handing over her phone. If it all ended now, she wanted him to have her love, know that he was loved, and she wouldn’t have done anything differently.
Billie hefted Calista’s phone and flipped it over, screen facing up. “You heard that, Mr. Morgan. She loves you.” Then she threw the phone in the direction of the helicopter and pulled a small square box from inside her coat.
Calista gasped upon realizing it was a detonator, then flinched when the entire helipad exploded, along with the helicopter.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I t took way too long to get downtown. Fucking Manhattan traffic, add a building snowstorm and the streets became a parking lot. Ten blocks away, Julius said to hell with it and hopped out the car. Sunny and Edwards were with him, leaving Scotts behind the wheel to catch up. The blocks were long, never-ending, but it was a straight shot. It didn’t take long for his chest to ache, a reminder of his dance with death. He’d survived, though not unscathed. Part of his right lung and his left kidney were gone. Yeah, he’d survived, but he was a bit slower, noticeable when he needed the speed to save someone he cared about. He ignored the lingering pain and focused on the cold air entering his lungs and the steady beat of his heart forcing blood to his straining muscles. Sunny and Edwards kept pace when he knew they could go faster. Today it didn’t matter, not when they had to pull short as they approached a growing crowd.
A police car followed by an ambulance swept past them, lights and sirens blaring. Ahead, red, white, and blue lights coalesced in one spot. Smoke and ash mixed with the clean, crisp scent of the snow and wind. The three pressed on, running through the half-empty streets of New York. Even New Yorkers respected Mother Nature. Yet even in a snowstorm, you had the gawkers, those who couldn’t resis
t a spectacle, those angling to get a picture, or better, a video of blood and gore to post on social media for a few hundred likes.
The mental image of his friend dead on the sidewalk reminded Julius of his brush with death. A few months ago, he’d bled out on the streets of New York. Only Calista’s quick hands had saved his life. If Harden were hurt, or worse… He knew the risks, and so did everyone who worked for him. That wouldn’t lessen the blow if Jentry were hurt, or dead. Calista and Laverne would be destroyed.
Glass crunched beneath his feet as they slowed to wind their way through the crowd, getting closer to ground zero. Move out of the way or get mowed down. One look at the three of them and the crowd parted. Police had already taped off the area, corralling the looky-loos away from the action, which consisted of the police watching the firemen race back and forth, dragging hoses deeper into the building.
Julius expected complete destruction, and while smoke poured out of the shattered front room, things were surprisingly orderly. Chairs tucked, stemware undisturbed, origami napkins still in position on plates, lights on. But that was the ground floor. Catalyst had other levels where the real action occurred, where things weren’t quite legal, if not downright illegal. This explosion could lead to prison.
Edwards tapped Julius’ shoulder and pointed at the ambulance. Harden sat in the back of the emergency vehicle, soot streaking his face, a mask over his nose and mouth. A paramedic fussed over him. The hunched over elderly man next to him, his lawyer.
Julius ducked under the caution tape. A policeman rushed over. “He’s my brother,” Julius said without pausing. Behind him, Edwards and Sunny said the same.
“Wait.” The policeman jogged over to Harden for approval. Grubby and bleeding, Harden remained in control. The police whispered something to Harden. His best friend glared over the cop’s shoulder, then crooked two fingers, motioning Julius forward.
He ripped his mask off when Julius got close. “What are you doing here?” His voice was a harsh rasp.
If Harden was upright and snarling, he wasn’t dying. “Jentry?”
Plain and the Billionaire's Seduction (Plain Jane Series Book 3) Page 24
