by Jaycee Clark
Chapter 30
“Can you call Pete?” Rori asked into the phone, pulling to the side of the road and cutting the lights.
“Yeah, where are you?”
“At the end of the driveway, just off the highway.” She cut the car off and knew they’d be going on foot.
“I’ll be there in just a minute.” John hung up and she waited.
Her hands shook. It had been so long since her hands shook because of a job; she could only stare at them. Hell. Leaning over, she checked the glove box. Empty. Console empty.
Under the seat. Ah. Extra gun. Thank God. She turned it. A SIG Sauer P222. Fit perfectly in her hand.
She got out, locked the car and waited. At least she’d worn black today and boots. Her fingers thrummed on her thigh.
She listened and heard John coming down the highway before his lights cut across the corner and he barreled to a stop by her car. He too was in black. Some habits were hard to break.
He pulled a bag from the back of the SUV he drove.
“You managed to keep Aiden at home.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Just took off and told him to stay by the phone and to let no one but Ian or me into the house.”
John opened the case and took out a knife, shoved it down near his ankle. A gun into the small of his back, another in his waist. A coil of rope and duct tape.
“Cool, tape. Can I help?”
For a moment, he paused, then said, “Where did you get the car?”
“Ian. He took it from the garage this morning.”
He nodded. “Hand me the keys. I can’t take her in an SUV with car seats.”
She didn’t need to ask who, as she handed him the keys. “If she hurts them . . .”
He paused in shoving the keys into his pocket. “Elianya Hellinski is mine. She always has been. I’ve waited for too long for this.”
Instead of arguing with him, she started off toward the house. He quickly passed her and she jogged alongside him through the woods back to the house.
“We’ll go in by one of the back doors and try to sneak up on her.”
“That’s your plan?” she asked.
“Got a better one?”
“You take the back door. I’ll take the upstairs. She’ll either come out those French doors or she’ll have to go through the entryway. If I’m anywhere else, she’ll see because of that stupid hall mirror.”
The dead leaves crunched under their boots.
John mumbled something to himself she didn’t catch, then said, “Pete will be here in about half an hour. He said he was flying.”
“Good.”
He stopped, turned to her and put his hand on her arm. “I have to be gone with her by then.”
“Why, John?”
With a voice as cold as the winter, he said, “She killed my family. My girls. My wife. I can’t let her go this time. No matter what the cost.”
“The explosion.” Damn. Understanding, Rori nodded. “Let’s rock and roll, mate.”
Neither spoke as they made their way to the house and through the backyard. In one of the windows they could easily see in. The woman in a siren red pantsuit held a gun in one hand, a 9-millimeter from the looks of it, and something in her other hand, which she used to motion to Quinlan, still strapped to the chair. He had something taped to his chest.
“Bloody hell.”
“Bitch.” John took the phone out and she heard him softly telling whoever it was at the other end to get a bomb squad out here as well, explaining the situation.
Personally she thought the woman was stupid. Had she really thought she’d get away with it? Not that Rori wanted her to even try, but from what she’d read and learned of Elianya Hellinski in the last month, the woman should have really thought this one through a bit more.
Where the hell were their bodyguards?
There was no sign of Roth. Or she hadn’t thought so until she saw his jean-clad legs near one of the doorways.
John motioned to the darkened French doors on the side of the house. She nodded and jogged down, climbing the ivy and trellis until she reached Darya’s room. She kicked the doors in, then made her way through the room and quickly to the top curve of stairs, directly over the entryway.
• • •
“What do you want?” he asked Elianya, always keeping his eyes on her. One gun, one detonator. Anger pushed through him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she purred.
The 9-millimeter Glock was a concern, but it was the detonator she held in the other hand that worried him the most. He sat in the chair across from his brother, Roth’s feet near him. He could see the pool of blood, the trickle out of the corner of his friend’s mouth. Rage at that alone clawed through him.
His parents sat on the couch and he could see the mixture of fear and anger in their faces. His father was tapping his fingers on his knee. Mom’s hands were white-knuckled. He couldn’t blame them. Darya was staring at the woman, her face pale. If he’d ever wondered, ever had any lingering doubts on whether or not Darya had met Elianya, they were now gone. As clearly as if Darya had spoken to him, her eyes and expression, both angry and terrified, glared at Elianya.
He looked back at their captor. Think. Think. There had to be a way out. There was always a way out. “Let them go.”
Elianya chuckled and leaned down the back of his chair, her breath hot on his ear. “Do they know who you really are?” she whispered.
His parents watched them, his father as angry as he’d ever seen him.
“What did you give my brother?” he asked, shifting his gaze to Quinlan.
“Little of this, little of that.” Her laugh grated across his nerves. “A new Elianya creation.”
Good God. Quinlan’s head hung to his chest, and sweat dripped off his brow. Every now and then he’d twitch. Please let him be all right. She could have given him any cocktail. Hell, now his brother’s heart could be giving out and . . . No! Pain hummed at the base of his skull.
Ian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Focus. Anger wouldn’t get anyone in this room out alive.
“Some do all right on my little creation, and other than the headaches, Quinlan’s been doing fine.”
“How long have you been giving it to Quinlan?” he asked. How the hell long had she been working to get to him?
She laughed again. “Since the night I met him.” Again she leaned down. “Have to say, for brothers, you both do things marvelously similar and yet so differently.”
He closed his eyes. “How much have you given him, Elianya?”
Her heels clicked as she walked around past him. “Enough, maybe too much. I’ve given him quite a bit tonight.”
“What the hell did you give him, Elianya?”
She smiled, evil and catlike, and even with the colored contacts, he could see the madness that drove her, the depravity that lurked just beneath the polished exterior. “My newest money creation. A cross between X, Dimitri, and roofies, bit of enhancement. So technically he could fuck until he overheated himself, thus frying his brain. Probably die with a hard-on for me.” Her laughter grated out again. “Think how many men will now die very, very happy. My creation has that same side effect as X and we can’t ever seem to get rid of that one.” She shrugged and straightened. Her laughter reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. She walked around the back of the couch and put her hand to Darya’s head, watching him all the while.
He wanted to simply kill her.
Her grin grew.
Darya jerked her head up and glared over her shoulder at Elianya.
“You ruined so much, Dimitri. I worked long and hard to build up the business I did.”
He nodded. “Child porn and child prostitution is a hard market to break into, is it?”
“Always playing the sinner,” she said, “and all the while you’re the saint.”
She walked behind his mother and he fisted his hands. Leaning down, Elianya pointed toward him with the gun, and said close to his mot
her’s head, “Do you know your son has killed people, Mrs. Kinncaid?”
His mother’s eyes locked with his, but he looked away.
“Like you?” his mother asked.
Ian closed his eyes and snapped in Czech to Elianya, hoping his parents would stay out of it.
“What? Don’t want them to know how you carried out hits?” she asked him in turn. Then in English. “Killed for profit. Killed because he was ordered to and, I daresay, in some cases simply because he felt like it.” Behind Darya she stopped again and put her hands, one with the gun, the other with the detonator, on his daughter’s shoulders. “Did you kill my guard I left behind?”
He only stared at her.
She laughed. “Such the hero.” Shaking her head, she said, “That was always your problem, Dimitri. Or should I call you Ian?”
He didn’t answer and she continued, moving toward him.
“I wanted you. But you thought you were too good for me. No man rejects me. No man. And then you ruined it more by creating all that trouble for my business.” She leaned down and kissed him, bit his lip until he bled. He pulled back and thought about hitting her. He could probably get the detonator away, but if he didn’t . . .
Quinlan hadn’t moved.
His mother kept looking from one to the other to the body on the floor.
“Let them go,” he said.
Elianya shook her head. “No. And why would I?” Those dark eyes flashed. “I want you to suffer. So who goes first?” She stepped behind his brother and grinned, then his mother, tapping his mother’s temple with the 9-millimeter, then his father.
“Time to choose. Come on, Ian. You were always so quick to make decisions.” She strolled back toward Quinlan.
What the hell did he do in this situation? Disarm her? But there were too many possible casualties.
Without warning, she aimed and shot his brother in the thigh.
“No!”
His yell mixed with his mother’s and his father’s. Darya’s scream stifled to a whimper.
The deranged woman merely quirked a brow at him. “So, which will it be? Who will go first?”
He would kill her.
“Or I can just play with them for a while?”
His brother hadn’t even moved. Still he was slumped in the chair. What the fuck had she given him for a bullet wound to not even penetrate? He should know, bullets freaking hurt like a mother. From here he could see the blood soaking his brother’s pants. Was it soaking too quickly? Had she hit an artery? Please, no.
Elianya pointed the gun at his parents again.
He could have sighed as she left Darya out.
Her husky laugh blacked the room. “Your daughter here will be coming back with me. I can make a lot of money off of her.”
Something in him snapped and he simply stared at her. And stared. The edges of his vision cleared, sharpened, focused. He stared even as he felt the blessed coldness seeping over him, the ice that preceded the action. He calmed his breathing, felt his heart slow.
He didn’t blink, didn’t look away from the woman.
She blinked and took a step back. “Well . . .” She shook her head. “You should decide.”
Ian took a deep breath and stood. She flinched. Good. And she took another step back, even better.
“You’ve taken my guns, Elianya,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Surely you’re not afraid of me.”
Her chin jutted up. He wanted to get her away from them. Away from his parents, his brother, and sure as hell his daughter.
“I fear no man.”
Staring at her another moment, he said, “You will.”
She cocked a brow. “I doubt it.”
He only smiled.
Elianya frowned, motioned with the gun to the people on the couch. “I haven’t got all night. First? Well, it should be one of your parents since if I blow your brother . . .” She laughed again. “You see what I mean. Then it would be over for everyone.”
• • •
Rori decided to hell with this. She quietly ran down the back stairs to the kitchen, where Becky hummed and slammed stuff into bowls. She took one look at Rori and startled. “What are you about, then?”
“Shh . . . and stay in here.” She started out the door then turned back. “I mean it, Becky. Do not come out of this kitchen for any reason or you just might get someone killed.”
Rori drew her gun and hurried toward the living room.
Outside the hall doorway, she saw John crouched low and holding his gun. He shook his head at her.
A bomb. A detonator. A gun. Five hostages.
But the woman didn’t know who she was. She smiled at John, hurried back down the hallway and outside. At least she still had her coat on. She ran around the front of the house. She shoved her gun . . . coat pocket and shoot through it? Or leave it at her back and pull it?
Well, if back, it could be seen. Of course it would be hard to miss either way.
Bloody hell, she shoved it in her waist at the small of her back and pulled her shirt out.
She opened the door and slammed it, muttering, “Bloody-ass animals. Bambi would just have to run in front of me. First the rabbit, then the damn deer.” She turned the corner and gasped. “What the bloody hell is going on, then?”
Ian glared at her.
“Ah, the little wife.” She motioned with her 9-millimeter.
Well, damn. The woman should really try a different gun.
Rori stepped cautiously into the room. Play the stupid wife.
“What’s going on? Ian?” She put a quiver in her voice.
Elianya Hellinski was beautiful, those large slanted eyes, jet-black hair, a body a centerfold would envy. She motioned with her gun for Rori to come closer. Detonator in one hand, gun in another.
Rori walked up to the woman, trying to act afraid. Not that it was too bloody hard. If they all made it out of here alive, she had several things to say to Ian. She and the woman stood on this side of the couch. Ian as well, but closer to Jock, who also stood now, but on the other side of the sofa.
“I’ll give you any amount of money you want,” the old man told her.
Elianya laughed. “Oh, dear man, I could buy out your entire operation. I don’t need your money. What I want is your son to beg me.”
Ian looked at her, his hands up as he tried to put himself between her and his family. “You want me to beg, Elianya. Then I’m begging. Please let them go. You don’t need them. You want me.”
She smiled. “Say it again.”
He gritted his teeth, the muscle ticking in his jaw, his eyes as cold and merciless as Rori had ever seen them. “Please.”
Elianya motioned with the gun. “On your knees.”
His eyes met Rori’s and in them she saw his anger, his fear, his love. He dropped to his knees.
Oh, God.
Rori stood closest to the door, Ian stood almost directly in front of his father, who thankfully remained on the other side of the couch. Elianya was between Rori and them. Kaitlyn and Darya were still on the couch and Quinlan moaned in the chair.
“Oh, my Gawd,” Rori drawled, looking closer at Quinlan. His chin almost at his chest, sweat dripping off his forehead. Blood stained his thigh and his pants’ leg. “What is the matter with him?”
It drew the woman’s attention from Ian and she glanced at Rori, then back to Ian. “Is she really your wife? I didn’t figure she was your type, darling.”
Rori jerked. “Darling? You’re calling my . . .” she said, stepping closer, “. . . my husband darling?”
First priority was the bomb. She’d leave the gun to Ian.
“Yes.”
“My husband.”
Elianya looked slyly at Ian. “You didn’t tell her about us?”
She looked from one to the other. “Us? What the bloody hell is she talking about, Ian?”
Rori strode over to him, letting her anger at the woman boil over to Ian. “Us?”
Ian shrugged. “It’
s not what you think?”
“Not what I bloody think? Think?” She took a deep breath, braced her feet. Ian’s eyes flashed and she whirled on Elianya. “Did you sleep with my husband?” She willed tears to her eyes.
Elianya shook her head and laughed. “Yes. Several times and several ways.”
“You bitch!” Whirling back to Ian, she cried, “And you . . . you . . . how can I ever trust you to—” She kicked straight back, dead center at the woman’s chest, and grabbed the woman’s wrist, twisting it until Elianya dropped the detonator into Rori’s hand. She tossed it over her shoulder to Ian.
As Elianya brought the gun up, Rori pivoted and kicked again, but the woman had turned. Elianya looked at Ian, then past him.
As Rori tried to kick her again, pulling her own gun free, Elianya leaned to the side, aimed and shot.
Rori heard Ian’s shout, but didn’t turn. She kicked the woman under the chin, Elianya’s head snapping back, the gun shooting to the ceiling, even as she aimed her own at the fallen woman.
• • •
The sting of the bullet bit into Ian’s shoulder. He slammed into his father, taking them both to the floor.
His eyes met Jock’s and all he saw in his father’s eyes was pain. God, no.
“Ian?” his dad whispered.
“It’s okay, Dad. It’ll be okay.” He tried to roll off, but pain bit into his chest and his vision wavered.
“Ian? No. No. No.” His father’s voice sounded warbled.
The detonator. He felt the box in his hand and prayed to God he hadn’t endangered them.
“Dad . . .” he hissed through the pain burning in his chest.
• • •
John ran into the room. “You’re as bad as Ian is. Impulsive idiocy for lucky fools.” He kicked the gun out of Elianya’s hand. She was out cold.
Rori took a deep breath and turned. Kaitlyn was on her knees on the floor. Rori didn’t see Jock or Ian. She hurried over and saw Ian lying atop his father, a hole in his back and Jock shaking his head, muttering, “No. No.”