Surrender

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He does smile, those brutal lips of his curving, and I know the look on his face. It’s the prelude to an attack, be it mental or physical, that he is savoring before it even happens. And it’s not a bluff, and nothing he does has limits one would expect from others, thus you never know how bad the bad he will deliver might be. And that look on his face is crystal clear, no words required. He’s planned a surprise for me when we land, which he will like and I will not. But I can’t let myself think about who, or what, that might be—I must be focused on a way to escape.

  The plane halts and the doors open. He grabs my arm and forgets I’m buckled in, cursing. “Take the damn thing off.”

  I unhook the seat belt and I’m instantly yanked to my feet. I let him drag me in front of him, me facing forward, him at my back. I step into the aisle and I move forward, while one of his men gives me an up-and-down glance that I ignore for a view of my own. The gun holstered at his rib cage is like chocolate on a bad day. I want it. I could take it if the moment were right, savor its delicious promises. If only the moment were right, but I want more than Neuville dead, I remind myself. I want to see Kayden again. I want to save Sara. And my father’s words play in my head. Discipline. Patience. Timing. You’re a small package. Strike like a cobra, not like a four-hundred-pound bear.

  “Keep going,” Neuville orders, his damn hand at my hip. Maybe I’ll chop it off instead of killing him, but that would be a dirty job. There are other things I could chop off, and they could be worth the bloody aftermath, an idea that speeds my steps and leads me to the end of the walkway, where Neuville of course shoves me.

  Getting the idea he’s intended, I more than happily step to the open door, and aside from the SUV limo awaiting us on some remote runway in who knows where, there are a good half dozen extra men and three black sedans. Wonderful. A convoy. If I kill the mob boss and our car stops, they kill me. Which means if I make that decision, I have to overpower our driver and the car while we’re still moving.

  Neuville nudges me toward the stairs. “Move. Get going.” He’s irritated, obviously eager to get on the road, and I hope that means we’re in Kayden’s territory—my territory now, where escape will come with easy-to-find assistance.

  As I hurry down the stairs, the sun is quickly sliding into the horizon, and the barely existent landing strip is void of any landmarks I can use to pinpoint our location. “Where are we?”

  “A place we’re now leaving,” he replies predictably, his hand gripping my arm, tugging me toward the black SUV limo where Bastile waits for us by the back door, his holster just beneath his jacket and his big, tall body an easy target to hit when I eventually take his gun. “Get in,” he commands, as if I don’t get the point of the open door.

  I climb inside the vehicle, and that’s when his gloating look on the plane comes back to haunt me, shock radiating through me as I find myself staring at Sara, who is wearing a stunning silver party dress.

  “Ella,” she breathes out, a hint of relief in her shock that I’m not sure she should feel.

  Recovering my initial jolt quickly, I give her a quick nod and mouth, “No emotion.”

  She narrows her eyes and nods back, and the solidness of her chin, the determination to survive in her eyes, reminds me of the strength that I’ve always sensed in her, even when at times I didn’t think she knew it to be true. And while, no, I am not happy that she is here, the one good thing about Neuville putting us in the same place at the same time is that now I can kill him. Maybe not in this car, where she could end up in the crossfire of whatever action I take, but soon. Really soon.

  Neuville slides into the car next to me, across from Sara, while Bastile joins the driver in the front seat. By my count that puts at least four men in two other cars, plus a driver in each, if I assume only those on the plane join us, and I can’t assume that at all. There were more men on the ground, many of whom could remain with the plane for our later departure, but they could also ride in the additional cars. The odds are not in my favor. This is not that right moment.

  The minute the doors are shut we begin to move, and Neuville turns his attention on Sara. “Well, now,” he says, giving her an inspection, and though I can’t see his eyes from where I sit, I see hers. He’s already imagining her naked. “You really are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he says. “Chris Merit does know how to pick a woman. And that’s a ‘fuck me’ dress if I ever saw one. So yes, I think I will. Fuck you.”

  To Sara’s credit, she listens to me. She shows no emotion. Instead, she looks at me and I silently tell her to hold her ground. Don’t react. “Should I fuck her now, Ella? I mean”—he grabs my arm, turning my wrist upward for his viewing and mine, “I’ve been staring at your naked body for hours, but I can’t fuck you with this trash on your skin.”

  “I was naked for hours and your men knew it,” I say, goading him and turning the attention on me, and away from Sara. “That big one with the goatee looked at me like he wanted to fuck me. Is that what you wanted?”

  He doesn’t take the bait. His lips curve sardonically. “I’m sure they all want to fuck you, Ella. I liked that they knew you were naked on the plane, and also that they couldn’t have you.” He holds up the picture he took of me. “And I like that Kayden is about to see you like this and know that I’m about to have you. He’ll think I already have, though, won’t he? But we won’t send it to him until we’re ready for him to find you. He’ll trace the data source when I hit Send, and I’m not foolish enough to use my regular phone line with The Underground involved.”

  I face him. “You downplay Evil Eye too easily. You will pay for this.”

  “I have recordings of you and Kayden plotting to kill me,” he says. “Evil Eye will be voided.” He looks to Sara. “Come to me. On this side of the car. I want both beautiful women by my side.”

  “It will not be voided,” I say, determined to keep Sara away from him, no matter what that means for me. “You kill a Hawk, you die.” I shove my wrist at him. “You hurt a Hawk’s woman, you die.”

  He grabs my hair and yanks me to him, and this time Sara reacts. “Let her go!”

  “I’m fine, Sara,” I say quickly, worried she’ll try to help me and get hurt. “Stay where you are.”

  “Should I give her a lesson on obedience now, or later?” he asks me, his mouth close to mine, breath hot and disgusting, lips so close I could bite a hole in them to match mine with one hard slice of my teeth.

  “You want me, and you’re just pissed that you can’t have me. You never had me. You never broke me.”

  “I own you,” he promises. “And Hawk will be tied up for the show. He will watch the pain you feel when I burn his mark from your arm, then watch you endure suffering while I fuck your friend and punish her for all of your sins. And then I’ll punish you and fuck you. Over and over and over again. And then, and only then, will I let him die.” He shoves me away from him so hard, I hit the car door.

  His phone rings and he answers it, and Sara and I make eye contact. “I’m sorry,” I mouth.

  “It’s not your fault,” she silently replies, her response gutting me. “He’s a monster.”

  But it is my fault. Like my father, I couldn’t help forming an attachment with a civilian; I pulled her into this by becoming friends with her. I am not someone who can have friends. Yet I love this woman, and I have to save her.

  I lift a finger, letting her know I’m listening to Neuville’s conversation. We’ll be at the location in five minutes. His people don’t know if “he” is in the city, but the plane they sent as a decoy in Neuville’s name should have ensured that “he” followed. I assume they’re talking about Kayden. The rest of the conversation provides little information. The car begins to slow and Neuville ends the call.

  We pull into a driveway, and Sara looks out of the window as motion detectors illuminate the property we’ve entered. “No,” she whispers, he
r voice lifting more and more as she repeats, “No. No. No.”

  “What is it, Sara?”

  She whirls on Neuville. “You will not do this here.” Her voice trembles not with fear, but anger. “If you want to rape me or kill me or whatever, you will not do it here.”

  “What is this place?” I ask, looking for the game-changing confirmation that we’re in France and not far from the city. “Sara, talk to me.”

  “It’s sacred,” she says, looking at me. “It can’t be here.”

  “It’s Chris Merit’s chateau,” Neuville says, and he holds up the naked photo of me again. “It’s really perfect. Lots of rooms for play. A dungeon where I can chain Kayden.”

  “A studio for Chris’s work,” she snaps. “This is his escape from the city.” She looks at me, desperation in her voice and eyes. “There are reasons he can’t lose this place, and me, Ella.”

  “It’s too late to turn back in the name of fine art, though he is quite talented. I have one of his pieces in my den. But at this point,” Neuville holds up the phone and the photo of me naked in the airplane seat, “once we’re inside and my men have secured the property, we’ll send some photos to Kayden and have him join us, alone of course. His noncompliance will come with a price for you ladies.”

  “Paris?” I ask, seeking complete confirmation in a way that won’t make him suspicious. “You dared to come back to Paris?”

  “The countryside outside of Paris,” Sara says, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I will do anything you want. Just not here.”

  Neuville gives her an amused look and then glances at me. “She gives me what I want too easily. Don’t you think?”

  “I’ll take you to the necklace,” I say, setting my trap, and getting the intense reaction I expect.

  His expression instantly turns explosive and he pulls me hard against him. “Where is it?”

  “In the city, not far from your house. But if we go there, she’s free the minute I hand it to you.”

  “Tell me where it is.”

  I shake my head. “I get it myself, and she goes free right now. Leave her here.”

  He glares at me, anger crackling off him, and then he releases me. “She goes with us.” He looks to the front of the car and calls out, “To the city.”

  One of his men doesn’t like this idea, warning him of the dangers, but as I expect, Neuville’s jaw sets. “To the city,” he orders again.

  The man doesn’t give up, suggesting that part of the convoy take me and return with both his prizes. But again, Neuville is predictable. He’s not going to let me or that necklace out of his reach. He barks an order and the car starts to move. Neuville then moves, sitting across from me, next to Sara, grabbing her leg and aligning it with his, his fingers at her knee. He stares at me and I stare back, a challenge between us. Sara for the necklace.

  nineteen

  The entire hour-long ride, Neuville holds onto Sara and stares at me. Sara shuts her eyes, enduring the devil at her side in her own way, and it works. It won’t get her beaten or killed. It’s calm. It’s not panicky. It’s the kind of reaction that intrigues Neuville enough to make him want to fuck you, not kill you. Which is still torturous, but at least it’s not dead.

  Unfortunately, the convoy follows us. Fortunately, Neuville’s arrogant need for a huge SUV limo makes us stand out like a sore thumb that Kayden will surely notice. When we reach the city, I direct them to the Champs-Élysées. Sara’s eyes light with the name that places us close to her home, and the many people looking for her and us. Greed, like his arrogance, has led Neuville down the wrong path. My path. The one that ends in death.

  “Where now?” Neuville demands.

  I call out the address to his driver, as well as the name of the chocolate shop.

  “A chocolate shop? This had better not be a game. You know how I feel about games that I don’t start,” Neuville warns.

  “Would you have ever thought to look there?” I ask. “And this is the last place I remember having it. I hid it there the night David died. But I can’t promise I didn’t move it. If I did, though, I’m close to remembering everything. I’ll find it for you.”

  “Who else knows about this chocolate shop?”

  “No one,” I say. “I remembered it on the plane.”

  His eyes glint like hot coals. “Are you lying?”

  “Matteo told you about my amnesia. You watched me on the castle cameras. I didn’t know until I saw you again. You were my trigger.”

  He leans forward, grabbing my legs now instead of Sara’s. “You and that necklace are mine. Sara, I will release. But you aren’t leaving me again. Understood?”

  “You’ll never have me,” I promise him. “Even if I’m with you.”

  His lips curve. “Ah, Ella. I do so enjoy the way you challenge me.” The car begins to slow and he leans back, releasing my legs, the driver telling him in French that we’ve arrived. “Is that the place?” he demands.

  I look outside. We’re stopped in front of the row of stores and businesses where the chocolate shop is nestled, and thankfully it’s still open. “That’s it,” I say, my senses tingling in ways I understand but couldn’t explain to someone else. This is it. Everything ends here.

  “Pull around back,” he orders the driver, a directive I revel in. The odds that Kayden will be here or have someone here are more than 50 percent, and the back of the building gives him room to take action. Or me. I’m no princess waiting to be rescued by her prince; the back door works for me as well. Especially since Neuville is concerned about a surprise attack and instructs the other two vehicles to take up strategic positions near the store. He’s worried about Kayden and that works for me. Fewer men for me to kill at one time.

  “Where will I find the necklace?” he demands as we claim a chunk of the tiny lot, which seems to be for employees, not oversized limos.

  “I hid it inside a certain display box,” I say, but in my mind’s eye, I see myself in a hallway by the bathroom, burying it under the foliage of a fake plant. “I’ll need to go in myself.”

  He considers me a moment. “Bastile,” he calls out, ordering him to escort me into the store in French, at the same time that he grabs a chunk of Sara’s hair. He yanks her to him, leaning in to speak beside her ear. “Tell her if she calls for help, I’ll kill you. Choke you to death, one breath at a time. Right here in this car.” Sara doesn’t comply and he jerks her head backward. “Tell her.”

  “He’ll kill me,” she repeats, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “I’ll choke you,” he says, disgustingly licking her ear. “Tell her.”

  “He’ll choke me,” Sara repeats and now her eyes are open, the look I find there resolved to whatever comes next. Not panicked, just . . . resolved.

  What comes next is Neuville dying and her going free.

  “No phone calls,” he says. “No conversations with strangers.” He reaches up and attempts to rip down the front of Sara’s dress. Luckily the lining defeats him, but he acts as if it hasn’t. “Her dress comes off if you are one minute over ten.”

  I inhale, but I don’t look at Sara again. I can’t. I don’t want to think of the two of them in the car alone when I need to think about how to ensure she gets out of it alone and unharmed. The door opens and I exit into the dark parking lot to stand in front of Bastile, whose close proximity allows me a better look at his shoulder holster with only one gun, resting at his rib cage. It’s almost time. I’ll be taking that from him soon. Just not now. Not until I ensure that I send Kayden a message that I’m here in the city, just in case this location isn’t on his radar, as I expect it to be.

  We walk toward the store, going to the front door, which pleases me. And then I get more of those tingling sensations that have become a part of my missions. They tell me when I’m on target. They tell me that my people are watching. And my unrushed pace give
s Kayden or his Hunters a chance to confirm that the limo equates to my presence. We round the building and I continue walking slowly. Bastile doesn’t like this. He grabs my arm and yanks me forward. Another plus in my favor; it tells the right people the tone of my situation. But no matter what, much of what comes next must be dictated by me. Those watching, and I feel that they are, won’t know how much danger Sara is in, or even myself. There could be a gun pointed at my head, or hers, that they can’t see.

  “I’ll be inside the exit, watching you,” Bastile warns before opening the door, and I walk inside the decently spacious store, considering this is Paris and all things come in petite.

  Wasting no time, I immediately walk to the opposite side of the store, knock over a box, and use that for camouflage as I yank the credit card from my boot that, thankfully, slides out easily. I think I’ve been found, but I’m going to make sure. Next, I walk to a table with a packaged gift and motion to the attendant. She hurries over to me and I put my back to Bastile and face her, slipping her my card and speaking in French. “I’ll take two of these, please. Charge them. It’s a gift for the man by the door and his wife, so please be discreet? I want to surprise them over dinner tonight for their anniversary.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait, please. If he comes over here, can you say, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have that item’? Tell him that you’re checking the other store and can I check back in an hour? That will give me an excuse to sneak back here in a few minutes and get my card and package, while they shop elsewhere.”

  “Of course,” she agrees, thankfully quite sweet. “I love secret gifts. They are so fun!”