by Robyn Nyx
She slammed the door behind her dramatically.
“Dee?”
“Ice?”
“I don’t drive an Escalade.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Madison couldn’t get in her car fast enough. She kicked the gravel at her feet before dropping into the driver’s seat and locking the doors. As pissed off as she was, she knew if she stopped, just for a second, she’d fall into those summer-green eyes and forgive everything. And she sure as hell didn’t want to do that. Not yet, anyway.
A lot of what they’d said made sense. Of course it did. But the deception, the control, that’s what hurt. Her had father controlled her and didn’t stop trying even when she was hundreds of miles away at Princeton. Now it felt like Elodie was trying to do the exact same thing. As though Madison wasn’t capable of making decisions of her own, for her own good. They’d barely gotten together, and Elodie was already trying to call the shots.
Madison headed home. She needed to be alone. She was always better alone. She needed to shut the door on her apartment, switch off the outside world, and get into a hot bath. Think things through. Am I really in danger? The serious woman Elodie had called Ice fit Madison’s stereotype for a clandestine CIA agent perfectly. Brusque, no-nonsense, and built like a brick shithouse. Elodie was working with the GTIP office, and the cartel couldn’t possibly have every government officer on their payroll. She knew she should probably trust her, and the things she’d said about Therese made her skin crawl. Madison could never grasp the limitless viciousness of some people, the pleasure they’d take in “practicing” their violence. It wasn’t news. Gillian had detailed several accounts of the way Therese dealt with informants, with competition, or just with someone looking at her the wrong way.
Madison slammed her hand against the steering wheel as she braked at a stop sign she’d registered in just enough time. Part of her had known nothing permanent could ever come from getting involved with Elodie. The other part reminded her how good she felt when they were together. Even though they’d spent such a short time in each other’s company, digital or face-to-face, Madison had begun to realize what love and happiness might be. Before…before, they were just words. Now Elodie was giving her the emotions to go with the words. It seemed ridiculous that as she was pushing forty, she could finally be feeling what love was all about, and yet it was tempered by this control issue. Love or lust? Control or all-consuming concern? Madison had always been independent, always looked after herself. When she was a child, she’d been the one to care for her mother. In relationships, she never allowed anyone to look after her, even though she was sure they must’ve tried. But she’d kept everyone at a safe distance. If she only ever depended on herself, no one could ever let her down. Rightly or wrongly, it was a life edict really based on her childhood. Elodie’s anxiety over her safety was alien. Especially so because Madison thought it might actually be welcome. Kind of.
The driver behind her honked their horn and pulled Madison from her musing. She held up a hand in apology. She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Ice’s black Escalade three cars behind her. Anger and relief flooded through her.
She pulled into a turnout a few hundred feet along the road and turned off the engine. Ice’s Escalade pulled in behind her, but she didn’t get out. Madison wondered if Elodie was in the passenger seat and decided to find out. She got out of her car and devoured the ground between them.
She rapped her knuckles on the blackened window when she saw that Ice wasn’t already rolling it down, and her irritation began to build. The window lowered slowly, and Madison was greeted with the business end of a mini Uzi. She recognized it from the time she’d spent in Syria with rebel forces.
“Well, look at you, making our job so easy, Ms. Ford. Won’t you get in?”
Madison looked beyond the barrel and into dark brown eyes. If she were at all religious, she may have been inclined to believe in evil, just from that glare. She recognized Therese’s right-hand woman.
“Natasha.” Madison tried hard to project calm in her voice. Her chest tightened, and it was hard to breathe. She briefly considered running, but her legs were leaden and heavy. You can’t outrun a bullet.
Natasha laughed. “You’ve been expecting us?” The rear door opened, and another menacing woman stepped out, gun in hand. “Therese would like to meet you too, but you’ll wish you hadn’t been in such a hurry. It’s good to know we’ve got the right woman in hand, though.”
The other woman grabbed Madison by the arm and pulled her toward the backseat. There were no other cars passing by, and there was nowhere to run. She climbed into the car, and yet another woman in the backseat pulled her in quickly.
“Jen, go check her car for the package. Let’s tie up the loose ends.” The front seat passenger nodded and got out of the car silently. “Rope her up, Blake, and strap her down. She needs to be in one piece for Therese to enjoy taking her apart.”
The two women in the back forced Madison’s head between her own legs and fixed her arms behind her back. Her wrists were quickly secured with paracord, and she was slammed back into the seat, before the one called Blake fastened the seat belt across her waist.
Madison could feel her phone in her back pocket. Could she pull it out and manage to dial someone with these goons on either side of her? This might be her only chance. She didn’t expect them to be so stupid as not to search her at some point. Jen returned to the car with Madison’s satchel in her hand and passed it to Natasha. She grinned as she rummaged through it and quickly found the package she was looking for.
“I hope for your sake you haven’t shared this with anyone else.”
Madison tried not to react.
“Do you want me to search her, Nat?”
The one called Blake addressed Natasha, and her tone suggested she might really enjoy that particular task. Madison and Nat’s eyes met in the rearview mirror, and the look made Madison feel physically sick. There was an unerring sense of malevolence, and she suddenly regretted her unusually quick temper at Elodie’s house. She wished she were still there, debating on a course of action, considering letting Ice protect her, handing over the damned package to the authorities.
“Sure, do it. And be really, really thorough.”
Madison braced herself as Blake turned to begin her task. This was only the beginning. She was a journalist, not a soldier. Sure, she’d taken some hostile environment training and attended various kidnapping workshops, but what good was that training in the face of someone like Therese? Shit. Looks like I’m going to find out. I’m sorry, Elodie.
Chapter Twenty-four
“What the fuck does that mean? I don’t care what car you drive.” Elodie was distracted. She didn’t know whether to chase after her or let her be for a while so she could cool down. Madison had every right to be mad at her. She should have told her about Ice. I just wanted to keep her safe.
“She said she was being followed by a black Escalade. I hired a Yukon for this little expedition.”
“She’s not exactly a car aficionado, so she probably doesn’t know the difference. What are you getting at?”
“What I was going to say earlier—they’re already following her. I picked up their trail on the way to her lunch meeting. The Escalade wasn’t subtle, that’s why she saw it. I’ve been in the field for over two decades, and no one knows when I’m following them.”
The penny dropped. Madison was being followed by Therese or someone in her gang. And she was out there without Ice’s protection.
“We’ll take my car.”
Ice looked at Elodie, still wet from the pool. “You get some clothes on, and I’ll pull the Aston around front.”
Elodie set off to her bedroom, taking the stairs three at a time. She misjudged the last one and tripped, sprawling onto the wooden landing. She picked herself up, the wind knocked out of her, and stumbled to her room. Quickly changing into a tank top, jeans, and sneakers, she was breathing hard, though not from exer
tion. It was fear. She’d read some of the documents in Madison’s package. Therese was an abomination of a human being, the kind of person Elodie had sought to “combat” through her humanitarian work. The kind of person she’d battled against in Afghanistan. She’d never expected it to end up this close to home.
She sprinted outside to Ice, who was loading a small bag into the trunk. She was grateful for her presence and her portable armory, though she was wishing it was bigger. Of all the people Elodie knew, Ice was the only one qualified to deal with a shit-storm of this magnitude. There was no one she’d rather have by her side right now.
Elodie got in the car, started the engine, and accelerated along the long drive toward the electric gate.
“Jesus Christ!”
“Who the fuck is that?”
Elodie slammed on the brakes as she saw another car just entering the gates.
She couldn’t maneuver around the offending vehicle due to the narrow drive. Elodie was out of the car almost before she’d brought it to a complete stop.
“Fuck, Paige, reverse your car, and get out of here.” Elodie smashed her hand on the hood of Paige’s convertible.
“What’s wrong with you? I came to see how you are. Something’s obviously wrong.”
Elodie fixed her hands on the car door and gripped tightly. It was that or Paige’s throat. “You’re in our way. I need you to move your fucking car.”
“No. I won’t. Not until you tell me what’s going on with you.” Paige motioned at Elodie’s hands, her knuckles white and veins popping out on her arms from the pressure she was applying to the door. “I won’t be able to put my window up ever again. You’re going to crush my door.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you. Reverse your car before I drag you out and do it myself.”
Ice emerged from the passenger seat and pointed her trusty Sig Sauer at Paige. “Do as the lady asks.”
Paige’s eyes widened. “What have you got yourself into? Are you in trouble?”
Ice shot her gun in the air, and both Paige and Elodie jumped.
“NOW.”
*
They’d driven wordlessly for five minutes, heading for Madison’s. Elodie was still a little shocked from Ice firing her pistol, but grateful at the same time. She was so angry at the situation she and Madison were in that it was possible she might’ve pulled Paige from her car and beaten her half to death.
Ice slowed slightly for the stop sign and only narrowly missed the car crossing the intersection.
“Fuck!”
“It missed us by a—”
“That’s Madison’s car.” Elodie felt the words lodge in her throat, threatening to choke her.
Ice swung in front of the parked CR-V, and they exchanged a silent look before approaching it. Madison was nowhere to be seen, and the keys were still in the ignition. Ice did a quick sweep, and Elodie held her breath when she checked the trunk, worst-case scenarios beginning to cloud her mind.
Ice pressed her palm to the hood.
“Engine’s still warm. No sign of a struggle, Dee.” She walked quickly up and down the turnout. “No blood, but it looks like she walked toward another car.”
Elodie started to shake. She dropped into Madison’s seat and placed her hands on the steering wheel. This is my fault.
“Is her phone in there?”
Elodie didn’t answer.
“Dee? Is there a phone in there, anywhere?” Ice put her hand on Elodie’s shoulder firmly enough to bring her back around.
“I don’t see it. It’s normally in the cradle. It’s not there…she’s not here, Ice. She’s not here.”
Ice hoisted Elodie from the car into a tight hug. “We’ll find her, Dee. We’ll get her back for you.”
Elodie pulled herself out of Ice’s arms. “Promise me, Ice. Promise me.”
“Get yourself together, soldier. If we’re going to save your girl, it’s time for you to ditch the movie star and slip back in time.”
Elodie knew what Ice was asking of her and what she needed to do. It’d been over a decade since she’d held a real gun and not a movie prop, but she’d have to pick one up again now if they had any chance of getting Madison back.
“It’ll come back to you. Trust me.”
“I trust you. I don’t trust them.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“You did exactly the right thing, Doc. That’s why we have the lockdown procedure.”
Doc Blakeley was clearly nervous. Sweat beaded on his pudgy face, and dark patches around his armpits gave him away. Everyone was expendable, no matter their skill set or their loyalty. If they stepped out of line, every member of the team knew the consequences. The extent of any punishment kept them wary of making mistakes. Therese simply didn’t tolerate them.
“Thank you, Therese. It’s the first time anything like this has ever happened. Reality’s a lot tougher than all those drills we practiced.”
The doc was right. This had never happened here. They’d suffered losses in South America due to poor aftercare, and that’s why she’d moved this part of the business to L.A. With American doctors and American drugs.
“You’ve done well, Doc, relax.” Therese smiled genuinely. He was a great surgeon, one she’d poached from USC. Remuneration was good there, but Therese offered him so much more. He didn’t take much persuading, a good sign that he’d be in it for the long haul.
She looked at the monitor and saw Mr. Lucas cradling his dead wife in his arms. It was the kind of image she knew should move her. It didn’t. All she saw was a problem that needed solving, along with the opportunity for a little fun. But she had to act fast, since she had Madison Ford to look forward to.
As if on cue, her phone rang. “Where are you?”
“We’ve got her. We’re nearly at the airstrip. Will you already be on the island?”
“No, Nat. I’m dealing with the Lucases’ situation. The wife died from complications—looks like he chose the wrong donor, or maybe it was too late for her. Either way, Doc had to lock down the facility. Lucas was freaking out and threatening to call the cops.”
“Do you want me to join you? The girls can take Ford to the island.”
“No. You do it. I don’t want any mistakes. You’re my girl, Nat, but don’t you touch her. Deal with our other little problem in front of her. Get her good and scared.”
There was a pause. Therese could practically feel Nat’s twisted excitement.
“How will you kill him?”
“How do you want me to kill him?” Therese lowered her voice to the guttural tone Nat loved so much.
“Do you have your Mistress with you?” Nat’s voice grew husky.
Therese knew she’d be throbbing, and her hand would have already traveled in that direction. Nat was referring to the beautifully balanced Down Under hunting knife Nat had imported from England as a present long ago. She unzipped her duffel bag and pulled it out slowly.
“I do.”
“Cut him from throat to cock. He was an arrogant prick. He deserves to die nasty.”
Therese snarled as she slid it from its embossed leather sheath. She’d always liked the feel of the leather handle, and Nat kept the brass pommel and guard polished to perfection. It was an epic sized knife, the largest in her vast collection. It was also her favorite.
“I’ll put it in Saran Wrap for you to clean when I get back.” Therese pulled a roll of plastic wrap from the bag and laid it on the table.
“I do love watching your wet work. I wish I was there.”
“You’ve got an important job to do for me. Focus.” Nat exhaled deeply. It amused Therese that just one word could melt her. “I’ll be there soon enough. Deal with our greedy boy, and then we’ll work the journalist together…nice and slow.”
“Okay. I can’t wait.”
“Later, sweet filth monger.” Therese ended the call and turned to Blakeley. “Have you called the cleanup team?”
“I have. They’re on their way. And I’ve
arranged their transport back to Cuba. Another unfortunate pair of American tourists falls foul of local hoodlums.”
“If only Kennedy had made a better job of the Bay of Pigs, Cuba would be a much safer place.”
Blakeley laughed, although it seemed a little forced. “They should be here in thirty minutes. Is that enough time, or shall I get them to wait?”
Therese grinned, liking that her surgeon understood her penchant for making the most of an unfortunate situation. “That’ll be the perfect amount of time, Doc.” She hefted the Mistress from hand to hand, and it slapped reassuringly hard against her palm. “Time enough for me to do the hubby a favor and send him to join his wife.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Wet work. Mokroye delo. Madison knew its etymology. The Spetsbureau 13 of the KGB was known for its “wet dealings.” Assassination, murder, the spilling of blood. She was in the hands of some twisted women. Nat had flushed during the conversation, clearly turned on by the thought of Therese killing some poor guy by “cutting him from throat to cock.” Her recent encounter with General Dudko in Russia had scared her, but it was child’s play compared to this. These women were criminals with no boundaries and no laws governing the treatment of their prisoners.
“Where are you taking me?” Madison had waited until their barbaric conversation was complete. She didn’t want to enrage her captors and give them a reason to hurt her before they even started asking questions.
“I thought a journalist would be able to come up with a more original question than that.” Nat and the rest of her captors laughed.
“What do you want from me?”
“Therese wants to ask you a few questions, reverse the tables on you. You were wrongly sent some confidential information by a recently deceased employee of hers. Therese needs to know what you’ve done with it.”