by Val Tobin
“You put the bug in his apartment.” He’d heard them talking and decided they knew too much. She tried to recall what they’d said, but fear had blanked her memory. “You broke into my apartment.”
His response was chillingly casual. “You should be dead already.”
She met his gaze, and he returned the stare, his eyes cold steel.
“How the hell did you get in here?”
John smirked. “Easy enough once he opened the door. I could see it in your eyes, Ellen. Don’t ever play poker. The way you looked at me—or, rather, the way you avoided looking at me. You think I didn’t know you verified I was the lawyer she consulted?”
“Zach told you?”
“He called our office to find out. My assistant called to let me know a murdered client’s husband called asking for the name of the lawyer she consulted. Zach not only asked about the first case Fran called me for, but he asked about BRI. He mentioned he’d talked to Gabriel.”
“So you decided the most logical thing to do was hunt us down?”
“You disappear here, no one will find you.”
“Disappear?” She thought of the desert. Cliché, sure, but probably the best way to dispose of a body in this place. Tendrils of nausea wove through the pit of her stomach, the result of visions of cold, lonely stretches of desert where coyotes and other wild animals foraged.
He’d still have to get them from here to there, and the only way to do that was to walk them out at gunpoint. Killing them in the room would leave too much evidence and the problem of removing the bodies.
While there’s life, there’s hope.
“You’re a problem for me. I can’t have you taking what you know back to the cops in Toronto.”
Fine. I’ll take it to the cops here in Vegas. “Why kill Kat?” She didn’t give him the option of denying it. “How’d you get into Gabe’s apartment that night?”
“Stupid wench. She was supposed to seduce him and let me in when he fell asleep. Stupid broad made so much noise when I got there, she risked waking him even after we went out on the balcony to talk. Tried to shut her up. Choked her out instead. Only thing to do after that was toss her over the side and hope they called it a suicide. You and that idiot”—he snarled in Gabriel’s direction—“just couldn’t leave things alone. You found the bug and went to the fucking cops. Once that cop realizes I knew both women, I’m done.”
She visually examined the handcuff on the bedpost, trying to see a way to remove it, but it was clipped to a piece of the carved headboard that curled in on itself. She wouldn’t be able to simply slide the cuff over the end.
“We’ll take your car,” he said as though they were making plans for an evening out.
“Go to hell. I’m not doing anything you want.”
“I’ve got the gun. You know I’ll use it. I’ve killed twice now. Twice more won’t bother me.”
“Is that why you sent me and Rhonda those drinks the night we met? Did you know who I was?”
“Of course. Frankly, if it had really been a meet-cute, I’d have let Rhonda sit next to me.” He sneered. “Did you really think I was interested in you? You plain, chubby wreck.”
Tears welled up, and she averted her eyes, staring down at Gabriel’s hands and the cuffs she couldn’t remove. “Take the cuffs off.”
“Right away, Your Highness.” He chuckled.
Since he apparently wouldn’t free Gabriel, Ellen shifted to sit beside him, laying his head on the pillow again. She slipped her hand into one of his, taking comfort from the physical contact. Was it her imagination, or did his hand squeeze hers for a second? She kept her face averted from John’s gaze.
Keep him talking. “How did you even know Kat?”
“Shut up. I’m done talking to you. You won’t live through this, Ellen. Neither you nor your boyfriend.”
Once again, Gabriel exerted a gentle pressure on Ellen’s hand, and this time, she knew for sure she hadn’t imagined it. Gabriel was awake, and he signalled her to keep the knowledge to herself.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ellen licked her dry lips and swallowed. Could she distract John in the other room, leaving herself and Gabriel alone with her purse? Her cell phone was on the bed next to him, in the front zippered pouch.
“Could I get some water? My throat’s dry.”
He didn’t respond in the way she’d hoped. “Get up. Pick up that purse.”
Heart sinking, she stood and snatched up her purse. Hit him with it? It wasn’t as heavy as it typically was. Under normal circumstances, she’d have carried a novel and other sundries in it that would’ve given it a good heft, but she’d emptied it before going down to dinner.
“Drop the purse on the couch. You carry your phone in it. You won’t get a chance to use it, and no one will track you with it. We’ll leave it here in your hotel room where anyone searching for you will expect you to be.”
Rhonda wouldn’t worry until later when Ellen didn’t show up for drinks. She glanced at the time. Just after eight o’clock. How panicked would Rhonda get when Ellen didn’t show and didn’t answer her phone? How long before she notified the police? And what if Max was in on it? He’d prevent her from calling anyone.
Ellen set the purse on the couch.
“Get your bottle of water. Lover boy should be awake soon, and we’ll go for a drive. We’ll take your car.”
“The keys are in my purse.”
“Get your water. I’ll get the keys.”
She went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, she took a swig and then put the cap back on. John stood in front of the couch, one hand holding the gun in her general direction and the other awkwardly unzipping her purse. Tempted to tell him she’d get the keys, Ellen bit her lip. If she said anything, he’d likely do the opposite of what she suggested.
Her cell phone sounded, the ringtone Rhonda’s.
Ellen took an involuntary step toward the couch to pick up the phone but stopped and held her breath, her gaze riveted on John.
***
When Gabriel first returned to consciousness, he heard Ellen’s voice, and at first, his spirits rose. She’d found him. Everything was okay. He was about to open his eyes when he heard John’s answering voice. Gabriel’s stomach dropped, and he kept his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure how that helped them, but anything that deprived John of knowledge of a change in circumstances felt like a win.
Gabriel took stock and mentally listed what he knew: one wrist was chained, probably to the headboard; his head ached and he felt like shit; Ellen sat on the bed beside him, her hand in his; John stood near the bed, and he likely held the gun he’d had on Ellen.
After John had burst into the hotel suite, he’d forced Gabriel at gunpoint to drink a glass of juice, which likely had a drug in it since that was the last thing Gabriel recalled before awakening with Ellen on the bed.
Now, the two were in the other room, giving Gabriel precious time alone.
He opened his eyes and immediately felt in his pocket for his penknife. Still there. Not much of a weapon but not nothing.
“Hey!” John’s voice startled Gabriel, and his heart skipped a beat, but the other man had shouted at Ellen. “I can’t find the damn keys. You get them. Don’t do anything stupid. I swear I’ll shoot you dead and go to plan B. I’ll hold your phone while you do that. Wouldn’t want you alerting anyone with an accidental emergency call now, would we?”
Quietly, Gabriel shifted so he sat on the bed with his feet on the floor. No sudden moves or John would get twitchy. As long as the two remained in the living room, they couldn’t see into the bedroom. Gabriel stood up. As he did, the cuff on his wrist rattled, and he froze.
“What’s taking so fucking long?” The rage in John’s voice, his foul language, almost had Gabriel shouting at the man.
“I’ve got them. See?” Ellen said, and keys rattled.
“Put them on the coffee table and take this key. I want you to free Gabe and wake h
im. He should be out of it by now. We’ve got to get this show on the road.”
Gabriel glanced from the bed to the doorway. The door was too far from the bed for him to ambush John as he returned to the room, and that kind of stunt could get himself and Ellen both shot.
“Hey, Gabe, you awake?” John chuckled. “Your girlfriend joined the party.”
What should he do now?
“Move it. I don’t have time for this shit.” John continued to harangue Ellen. “I’m right behind you. One false move and I’ll blow your stupid head off.”
“I’m going.” Ellen’s voice was close.
Gabriel hurriedly lay down again and pretended to sleep. Please, Ellen, play along or we’re dead.
Ellen stepped into the room and strode to the bed.
Gabriel stirred as though just waking up. “Do as he says. It’ll be all right.” Gabriel glanced at John, who hovered a few metres behind Ellen. “We’ll get through this.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ellen approached the bed cautiously. When she sat down, the mattress shifted, and his warm body pressed against her thigh, offering a bit of physical reassurance.
She removed the handcuff from Gabriel’s wrist, but when she went to set the key on the night table, John ordered her to take the cuff off the bed and hand it and the key over. She did as ordered, silently apologizing to Gabriel with her eyes for their predicament.
If only she’d noticed the missing “Do not disturb” sign. But if she had, wouldn’t she have assumed Gabriel had removed it when he entered the room? Her guilt eased a fraction.
She helped the man she loved sit and then stand.
“Move it.” John waved the gun at them, indicating they should go out into the living room.
“You lead and walk us to where you parked the car,” he told Gabriel. “I’ll escort the lady. One stupid move and she’s dead. Got it?”
Expression grim, Gabriel said, “Understood.”
John shielded the gun with Ellen’s body and his leather jacket, one arm draped over her shoulder. “Play along, babe, or I’ll kill him after I kill you. Then, I’ll kill anyone else you alert.”
“Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. Her mind raced, considering options. Two against one. Surely, they could stop him. Neither she nor Gabriel had a cell phone on them now. If they were to get out of this, it was up to them.
She halted before they reached the door. “I need to change my shoes.”
“Quit stalling.” John gave her a shove, and she stumbled, exaggerating the move by falling to her knees.
“I can’t walk in these heels. Let me put flats on.”
He hesitated, but in the end, he waved the gun in a random direction and said, “Hurry up.”
Ellen put on a pair of running shoes she pulled from the closet next to the exit, moving quickly to tie them up before he stopped her. She had other shoes in there, dressier, which would’ve made more sense with the blouse and slacks she wore, but the sportier shoes would give her an edge if an opportunity to escape appeared.
They left the suite and headed for the elevator, John sticking so close to Ellen his breath tickled her cheek. She focused her gaze on Gabriel, setting him in her memory and her heart. If they were to die, she’d savour his presence now.
The elevator was empty when the doors opened, but as they passed the various floors, people got on. When they reached the lobby, everyone except their little group of three left. They carried on to the parking level, and Gabriel led them to their rental car.
John forced Gabriel to settle into the driver’s seat and made Ellen sit in the front passenger seat while he sat directly behind her. He insisted they all buckle up, more so they wouldn’t attract police attention than to keep them safe in case of a crash. Something rustled. A scarf was yanked down over her head and tightened around her neck. As she struggled, it squeezed.
“Hold still or you’ll strangle,” John shouted, and when Gabriel made a move toward Ellen, he hollered, “Back off or I’ll blow her head apart.”
Gabriel settled, though his face was red with rage and he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fists. Ellen, tears streaming down her face, went still. John adjusted the noose around her neck, the scarf tugging as he did something with it.
When all movement stopped, John said, “Keep still, Ellen, and you’ll be fine. It’s insurance so lover boy doesn’t slam on the brakes or cause an accident to try to save your asses. You do that, champ, and she’ll hang herself. Now, let’s go.”
The engine roared to life, and Gabriel eased the car from the parking spot. With John directing them, they drove to the highway leading to the desert. They’d barely gone a mile when John’s cell phone buzzed.
“Keep your mouths shut. Wouldn’t want this gun to blow Ellen’s brains out.” He answered the call. “Yeah? No, taking a little side trip to the Bellagio … a woman I met … Where’s Rhonda? So, tag along … No, I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t wait up.” He ended the call and tossed the phone on the seat beside him.
“You had plans with your girlfriend tonight.”
When Ellen remained silent, he swatted her head. “Answer me when I talk to you.”
“Yes, we had plans.”
“Guess she’ll assume you stood her up. Too bad.”
“Yes.” Ellen didn’t know what else to say. Did he expect her to have a conversation with him? Unless he pressed her for details, she refused to reveal them. When he said nothing else, Ellen assumed he’d let the matter drop. Inside, she prayed for Rhonda to overreact when no one showed up to meet her for drinks.
A half hour later, all Ellen could see zooming past them were buttes, mesas, rocks, scrub, and desert sand. It crossed her mind that the car likely had a GPS on it, and it could be traced if they disappeared. If Rhonda grew suspicious, maybe she’d call the police. But the more Ellen thought about it, the more she understood it was too late for that. Even if Rhonda called the police this second, she’d have no reason to give them for starting a hunt right now. By the time the authorities concluded something was wrong, she and Gabriel would be dead.
After another fifteen minutes, John ordered Gabriel to pull off the road and drive into the desert. “Sorry I had to drag you along for this, Gabe, but forensics are pretty good these days, and they’d know if you died before she did. Plus, you need to be behind the wheel to drive her out here.”
Tears leaked from Ellen’s eyes, and she couldn’t hold them back. This couldn’t be how they ended. They’d never said “I love you” to one another. She reached out a hand and groped for any contact with Gabriel. Her fingers skimmed his thigh, and he took one hand off the steering wheel to clasp them.
“Both hands on the wheel, asshole,” John immediately shouted.
Gabriel gave her hand a quick squeeze and released her.
They drove over uneven ground, manoeuvring around boulders, scrub, bushes, and holes in the ground until no flat land remained.
“Slow down here,” John ordered. “Another few metres. Perfect. Stop.”
Something metallic rattled. “Give me the car keys.”
Gabriel put the car into park and turned off the engine. He passed the keys back to John.
“Cuff yourself to the steering wheel.” He passed a set of handcuffs to Gabriel. Moonlight glinted off the cuffs as he snapped one onto a wrist and the other onto the steering wheel.
The scarf around Ellen’s neck eased, and John looped it back over her heard. Unconsciously, she ran her hands through her hair, snagging her finger on a bobby pin. She slipped it from her hair and hid it in her hand, not sure what she’d do with it. She tucked it under her so John wouldn’t see she had something in her hand.
“Get out, Ellen.”
She shook with terror. This was where he’d kill her.
“Let her go, John. You don’t have to do this. Just let her go.”
John ignored Gabriel’s final attempt to save Ellen and said, “She owes me. I went out with her, and
she never once let me fuck her. Not once. We’re going to have some fun, and then I’ll shoot her in the head because that’s what she deserves. Get out of the car, Ellen.”
“Don’t touch her!” Gabriel struggled with the cuffs as if he could slip his hand out of it.
When John turned his head to look, Ellen leaped from the car and ran.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I’m not running away.
Ellen ran, and as she ran, she zigzagged—at least, she zigzagged in what she interpreted the word to mean. She’d read that if you’re running from a person with a gun, you had to zigzag so they couldn’t nail you as easily. But she worried that she’d zig when she should zag and run straight into the bullet.
When the shot rang out behind her, she changed course again, praying she wasn’t heading into its path. Enough time passed and she concluded he’d missed her. So, she ran and zigged and zagged and told herself she wasn’t running away—not from Gabriel.
She had to escape, or neither one of them would get away. Gabriel was cuffed to the steering wheel, so it was up to her. Her mind rambled in a frenzied attempt to organize her thoughts, and all it did was make her heart pound and her breath hitch and her lungs ache.
John shouted at her to stop, to get back here—as though she’d do anything he told her to. She’d rather die in the cold desert than give him the satisfaction of letting him kill her, especially since he’d made it clear he had rape on his mind first. But his advantage was that he had Gabriel. Did John believe she wouldn’t abandon Gabriel? If he did, she was done. All John needed to do was wait for her to come back to the car. Unless Gabriel had seen the gift she’d left for him. The hairpin. Her hope was he’d seen it and all John’s plans had suddenly turned to shit.
***
When Ellen ran for it, Gabriel cheered internally. He didn’t call out to encourage her, afraid it might make her stop and turn around. If he’d had the chance to run, he’d have taken it as well. She wasn’t abandoning him. She didn’t abandon people—that was his MO.
