by Karen Rose
She had to laugh. ‘You’re . . .’ She sobered, then sighed. ‘Alive. You’re alive.’
‘I am,’ he said just as soberly, all the humor gone. ‘I’m afraid you’ve seen me at my worst. I’m not normally dodging bullets. This is an unusual day.’
‘You wear a bulletproof vest. You get death threats on a regular basis.’
‘You’re a cop,’ he countered evenly. ‘People shoot at you all the time.’
‘Actually, they don’t. I think you’re ahead of me in that department.’ She tapped the tactical vest she still wore. With a shooter after Marcus, she wasn’t taking any chances at being collateral damage. ‘This is not my everyday attire.’
‘Why don’t you want to take me home?’
Unfamiliar panic rose to clog her throat. ‘I didn’t say that.’
He raked his fingers through the thick dark hair at his temple, then held his bloody hand out far enough for her to see without taking her eyes off the road. ‘I need first aid.’
‘The concrete chips,’ she said. The ones he’d sheltered her from. He’d been hit while she didn’t have a scratch on her body.
‘You have to take me home with you so that you can clean the wound and bandage me all up.’
She bit her lower lip. ‘I meant to have the paramedics look at it.’
‘They needed to tend to Tabby.’
‘They could have sent another pair of medics and you know it. Dammit, Marcus. I’m taking you to the hospital.’
‘No.’
The word sounded almost as panicked as she felt. ‘Why not?’
He drew a breath. ‘I don’t like hospitals.’
‘I guess I can understand that, given what happened last year. I don’t care much for them myself.’ An exit was fast approaching and Scarlett took it.
‘Where are we going?’ Marcus asked suspiciously.
‘I’m going to check you out. If it’s worse than I can deal with, I’m taking you to a doctor. Not a hospital,’ she added before he could protest.
The first parking lot she saw belonged to a church. At this time of the day, it was largely deserted. Scarlett stopped the car and went around to open Marcus’s door. She gave him her hand. ‘Stand up. It’s too dim in the car and I need more light to see. We’re sheltered here. No one can shoot at us unless he comes back here in person.’
And if that happened, she was taking the shooter down.
He cooperated, following her as she led him around the open door, backing him up so that he half sat, half leaned against the hood, his feet planted wide. From this position she’d be able to see a shooter approaching before he saw them. ‘Head down,’ she said.
‘Up, down,’ he grumbled, but dropped his chin obediently. ‘You’re bossy.’
‘And you’re just figuring that out?’ She leaned forward to get a better look at the cut on his head. Then sucked in a breath when he gripped her hips and pulled her closer, tucking her between his spread thighs.
‘You said you wanted to look,’ he murmured, his voice a low caress that made her shiver from the inside out. ‘So look.’
Her hands unsteady, Scarlett ignored the silky invitation, carefully parting the hair around the cut on his head. ‘It’s not too deep. I think I can fix it.’
‘Good.’ He pulled her closer, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder and drawing a deep breath. ‘You smell so good,’ he said, his exhale warm against her skin. ‘I could stay here all day. All night.’
The mental image of them writhing between her sheets had her trembling. ‘Marcus,’ she protested, but it was a weak protest indeed. Every cell in her body was urging her to press closer.
He lifted his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes. He was as serious as she’d ever seen him. ‘We’re not at a crime scene and nobody is shooting at us. I think we’ve waited long enough, Scarlett.’
Without further warning, he curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss that instantly took her breath away. No gentle introduction, this. His mouth was hard, intense and so . . . proprietary that she could only moan, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him back. His hands roved up and down her back impatiently and she cursed the tactical vest she wore for robbing her of his touch. With a frustrated noise deep in his throat, his hands slid down her back, past the vest, to close over her butt, kneading her cheeks.
It felt so good that she almost whimpered. Hell, maybe she did whimper, because he growled and yanked her closer, using his hold on her butt to press her hips into his. She’d felt his erection when he’d lain on top of her in the basement, and it had taken every ounce of her willpower – and the knowledge that a gunman could be coming through the basement door – not to give in to temptation. But now there was no shooter, no situation. Just Marcus, his hands on her ass and the very impressive ridge in his jeans.
All for me. The realization left her heady. And greedy. She rubbed against him, lifting her leg to bracket his hip. Closer, was all she could think. She needed to be closer.
His groan vibrated through his chest as he pulled back only far enough to let her breathe, grazing her lips with his. ‘I want you,’ he said, his voice gone gravelly and rough. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, then smiled against his mouth, a sudden surge of happiness rising up within her. ‘I figured that out for myself.’
He squeezed her butt even as he smiled back. ‘And?’
Leaning away to see his face, she abruptly sobered as reality came crashing through. Shit. They were parked behind a church, going at it like teenagers with no regard for . . . anything.
His smile faded. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I want you too,’ she confessed quietly. ‘So much that it scares me.’
His brows crunched together, his body going very still. His hands still covered her ass as if he didn’t intend to let her go, and the notion felt way too good. ‘Why does it scare you?’
‘Because I got so caught up that I forgot to be careful. You’re standing out in the open and I wasn’t watching. Anything could have happened to you.’
He drew a deep breath, his stiff shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. ‘Then you have to take me home with you.’ One dark brow lifted. ‘We’ll be safe there, right?’
Feeling the tension leave his body helped the tension leave hers. ‘Yes. But we can’t stay there long, and we can’t do any more of this, no matter how pleasant it’s been. I have to find Annabelle and Tala’s baby. And the bastards who shot you. Both of them.’
‘I’d feel sorry for them if they didn’t have it coming. I wouldn’t want to be on your shit list.’ He pulled away reluctantly. ‘So this has been pleasant?’ he asked, his tone saying he knew full well that it had been so much more.
Scarlett was nearly undone. Willing herself to move away from him, she returned to the driver’s seat and buckled up, staring straight ahead. Because if she looked at him, she might not be able to look away. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly when she heard his seat belt click into place. ‘Pleasant. A woman has to make sure you don’t get a big head.’
‘I think that train’s left the station, Detective. It’s already pretty big,’ he said blandly.
Scarlett whipped her head to stare at him, then snorted a shocked laugh when she saw his innocent expression. ‘I’m not sure what to do with you.’
He smiled at her. ‘Oh, no worries. I have lots of ideas.’
She put the car in gear and headed toward the highway, feeling breathless in the best of ways. ‘I’m sure you do, Mr O’Bannion. I’m sure you do.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 2.35 P.M.
Ken strolled down the stairs to his basement, a plate of steaming lasagna in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. He’d needed a little extra time to breathe through his temper after his call with Demetrius. To put his thoughts in order. And to make himself lunch.
That cocky, careless sonofabitch. Ken had pulled up the phone-tracking s
oftware on his own phone so that he could see Demetrius’s actual location while he’d reheated the lasagna from dinner the night before.
Demetrius’s phone was where Demetrius had said he’d be – on his way to O’Bannion’s newspaper office. Ken had set an alarm so that he’d know if Demetrius veered off course for any reason, then let himself enjoy the aroma of his lunch. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until his stomach growled. Holding back from breaking Stephanie Anders’s pretty neck had burned a lot of fuel.
The aroma of food served another purpose as well, giving his captives another reminder that they were . . . captives. At my mercy for food, water. Life itself. Chip and Stephanie should be hungry and thirsty by now. If the smell of Marlene Anders’s blood and the sight of her gaping throat hadn’t permanently stolen their appetites.
When he returned to the basement, father and daughter looked up, both their gazes still intense. The break had allowed them to recharge. It would take a little while to wear them back down. Time Ken didn’t have. Stupid fucking Demetrius. If he’d called thirty seconds later, Ken would have already had the information.
Casually he placed his plate on the cart next to his chair and began to eat and drink, noting the way both Chip and Stephanie followed his every movement. He finished his meal and released a sigh.
‘That was really good. Hit the spot. Torture is so very draining, you know.’ He stood up, rolling his shoulders. ‘Are we ready to begin again, Stephanie?’ He removed the gag from her mouth. ‘Who took the baby?’
‘Tabby,’ she said flatly. ‘His dear Aunt Tabby. Short for Tabitha. She’s seventy-nine years old, five feet six inches tall, about ninety pounds. White hair, wrinkled skin. Mostly blind. She walks with a walker, so she can’t have gone far.’
Well, well, well. Looked like little Stephanie was ready to play ball. He’d figured she’d wise up eventually. But the answers she’d given really pissed him off.
Ken thought about the truck tire tracks his men had found out back. Dear Aunt Tabby could very well have gone far if she’d had someone to pick her up.
‘Dad also beat her half to death,’ Stephanie added. ‘So your boys shouldn’t have any problem catching her.’
That’s what you think, Ken thought dourly, a few more pieces of the puzzle falling into place. He’d bet good money that dear Aunt Tabby was the reason for the cops summoning the second rescue squad, not because O’Bannion had been injured. Demetrius hadn’t touched O’Bannion. And now the cops have Chip’s aunt, a relative Chip never disclosed as living in the household. Who knew what the old lady knew? Wonderful.
He sent a text to Sean, Decker, and Burton with the name and age of Chip’s aunt, and the instruction to take care of her. They’d taken care of people inside prison walls. A hospital wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it was definitely doable.
‘Thank you, Stephanie. I’ve just sent my men after her.’ He crossed his legs, kept his tone mildly curious. ‘So if your father beat this aunt half to death, how could she have taken a baby?’
‘She took the baby earlier. That’s why he beat her. She gave it to someone. I don’t know who, and I really mean that I don’t know. I didn’t know she had friends. He was only keeping her so he could get her social security checks.’
Ken turned to the still-gagged Chip, whose eyes were shooting daggers at his daughter. ‘You’re kidding me,’ Ken said incredulously. ‘You’re stealing social security from your aunt? That’s like, what, five hundred a month? You are one fucked-up piece of work.’
‘He did the same to his mother,’ Stephanie stated, ‘until she threatened to tell. He took care of her so well,’ she added sardonically.
‘How so?’
‘Pillow over her face, probably. I was away at college at the time. That’s why he got Mila, you know. Tala’s mother. She was a nurse. He got her to take care of his mother.’
Ken studied Stephanie. Hatred glittered in her eyes. ‘Wasn’t his mother your grandmother?’
‘No. I’m not his.’
Chip exhaled, his nostrils flaring in anger, but his eyes revealed his shock. Either he hadn’t known, or he hadn’t known that she knew.
‘Whose are you?’ Ken asked.
Stephanie shrugged as best she could, given her bonds. ‘His best friend’s. Mother got a hoot out of all those dinner parties when Daddy dearest was shooting the breeze with the man screwing his wife. Their affair lasted a long time. Mother almost left Chip when he went broke, but he was able to pull his ass out of the poorhouse.’ Her head tilted. ‘Probably due to you.’
It was true. Ken had sold Chip his first workers when the guy’s business had hit the shitter.
The girl spoke confidently, but Ken noticed that she kept her gaze on his face, sometimes glancing at Chip, making sure she didn’t look down at her mother’s body between them. She was getting too self-assured, so Ken tossed a verbal grenade into the mix. ‘You know, you are either the best actress in the world or the coldest bitch I’ve ever met. You talk about your mother’s affair when she’s lying dead next to you?’
Stephanie’s eyes closed, a spasm of pain momentarily contorting her pretty face. ‘She would want me to get out of here alive. And if giving you what you want is the way to do that, she’d want me to.’
‘You’re not going free,’ he said. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
She nodded, her eyes still closed. Her skin paled. ‘Yeah. I got that.’
‘Just so that we’re clear,’ he said amiably.
‘But you said you could make it easier for me.’
‘I did say that, yes. Let’s see how this goes, shall we? The more straightforward you are, the more charitable I’ll be. So, why did Tabby give the baby to “someone”?’ He quirked his fingers in the air.
‘I don’t know. Maybe she heard Tala was dead and figured there would be no one to feed the brat. Mother and I certainly weren’t going to buy it formula, and Tabby wasn’t allowed to have any money, so it would have starved because Tala was still nursing it. Or maybe she thought that Mother would get rid of the kid. I don’t know.’
The Anders household had been a goddamn nest of vipers. Ken was glad he didn’t have to live with them. He almost felt sorry for Aunt Tabby. But not sorry enough to rescind his order to Sean and the others. The old lady had to go. She’d probably find it a mercy.
‘Did Tabby let the other two women go too?’
‘Probably. I didn’t and Mother wouldn’t. They were Mother’s servants.’
Ken frowned. Stephanie was cooperating, but there was still something off. Something not quite right. She’d given up the aunt so easily, not caring that the woman might be their only hope of rescue.
Drake. Of course, the boyfriend who’d killed Tala. Ken wanted to kick himself. He’d allowed himself to get sidetracked by the baby and the aunt, forgetting about the damn boyfriend, whose last name was . . . He searched his memory. Ah. Connor. Drake Connor.
‘Stephanie,’ he said softly, ‘where is Drake?’
The girl blanched.
Bingo, was Ken’s first thought, closely followed by, Shit. ‘Did you call him when my men arrived? Did you tell him you were being taken away?’
‘No,’ Stephanie said, but her voice cracked.
Ken was on his feet, his palm connecting with her face before she could blink. Her head snapped back, a shrill cry escaping her throat. ‘Do not lie to me, girl.’
Shaken, Stephanie stared up at him, and he retook his seat. ‘Let’s try that again. Did you tell him that you were being taken?’
She looked down, saw her mother’s body and dry-heaved. Thankfully, she’d already emptied her stomach the last time she’d puked. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Where was he when you told him this?’
‘On his way to get me.’
‘So you think he followed you here?’
An audible swallow. A tiny nod.
Beside her, Chip rolled his eyes. Ken found himself laughing in surprised agreement.
‘I think your father is right for once, Stephanie. Drake’s not coming to save you. He’s halfway to the border by now.’ He texted the boy’s name to Sean, Decker, and Burton, instructing them to find Drake Connor ASAP. ‘Considering he committed murder this morning, it’s doubtful he’ll be running to the police for assistance. And on the supremely wild chance that he tries to stage a rescue on his own, we’ll catch him on his way in. But don’t count on that, honey. You’re more likely to be struck by lightning or win the Powerball.’
Ken finally saw a flicker of defeat in her eyes. She’d held out for hours, waiting for Drake to save her. It was almost sweet. In a gagging kind of way.
He stood up, dusted his palms on his trouser legs. ‘Well, I think I’ve got what I need from you and dear old Dad here,’ he said, perusing the instruments on his cart.
Stephanie made a terrified noise when his intent finally sank in. ‘Wait. You said you’d help me if I talked to you.’
‘Well that was before you wasted more than half of my day. I do have an actual job, you know, and you’ve kept me from doing it. I’ll probably have to work through dinner to catch up. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you. I will kill him, though,’ he said, gesturing at her father. ‘He has no value. You set this in motion by taking Tala out without permission. But since he got you into it by buying Tala and her family in the first place, I’ll let you pick how he goes. Gun or knife?’
Stephanie’s cheeks darkened, fury bending her mouth. ‘Which hurts more?’
Ken threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, I wish I could keep you. But you’d try to get away and I’d eventually have to kill you too.’
Her chin lifted, but he could see the fear in her eyes. ‘I’ll try to get away from whoever you sell me to,’ she said with a bravado that was as fake as a three-dollar bill.
His grin softened to a smile. ‘That’ll be his problem. But remember, Tala tried to get away. Didn’t work out too well for her, did it?’ He clapped his hands once. ‘So, Stephanie, darling. What’s it to be? The knife will hurt more, but it’s messy.’