[Cutthroat Business 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Jenna Bennett

  Chapter Twenty

  “Yoo-hoo!” a voice called. “Anybody home?”

  I swung around on my heel with a terrified squeak. It wasn’t 4 o’clock yet; Perry wasn’t supposed to be back!

  Yet he was. Clearly. It was his voice I heard. “Hello? Savannah?”

  What happened next can only be put down to extreme stupidity on my part. Instead of stepping out of the closet and trying to spin what was going on in a way that might get me out of the house with my skin intact, I did the worst possible thing: I slammed the shelf shut, closing myself up inside Perry’s special closet.

  Of course I realized almost immediately how dumb I had been, but by then it was too late. I couldn’t find a way out. There had to be one, but in the dark, with my hands shaking and with no clue where to look, I wasn’t able to locate the latch or lock that kept the secret closet a secret. My handbag and open house paraphernalia were still on the kitchen island, so Perry would know I was around somewhere – unless he thought I’d been abducted – and sooner or later he’d find me. And what would happen to me then was too terrifying to contemplate. The ski mask I’d seen made him a prime suspect in Lila’s murder, the videos and magazines were additional evidence of his liking for bondage and rough sex, and I could come up with several reasons why he might have killed Connie. She had the money in the family and he didn’t. He wanted her to sell the O’Keeffe and she wouldn’t. She had threatened to divorce him. Plus, she might have suspected him of killing Lila, and if what Heather had said was true, Connie wouldn’t have stood for being publicly humiliated. Or she might have walked in on him taking the O’Keeffe, and he killed her over that. The open house robberies and Lila’s murder had probably given him the idea, and if Perry had taken the painting, that would explain why there was no sign of forced entry. If he could pin both the robbery and the two murders on someone else – like Rafe and his associates – he’d be home free. At least until I’d stumbled into his closet and found his bag.

  All of these thoughts went through my mind in a flash, before I could jolt myself into action. Hands shaking, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, thanking God for my habit of keeping it in my pocket instead of in my bag, and used the lighted display to dial Detective Grimaldi’s number. And got her voice mail. Cursing – silently, of course – I hung up and tried again. 911 this time. Only to be put on hold. Which really shouldn’t happen when one’s in mortal danger. I hung up again, feeling as if time was running short. I couldn’t count on Dix to answer, or Todd, or Tim. The only other person whose number I knew by heart, and whose phone had always been answered by a live person – someone who might actually be of some use to me – was Rafe. Or more accurately, Wendell. I heard Perry come into the bedroom as I fumbled to punch the numbers into the phone. His voice was playful and joking, but not in a good way. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

  I put the phone to my ear with a shaking hand, listening to it ring on the other end. Pick up; come on, pick up!

  The closet shelves swung outward just as Wendell answered. “Grocery store.”

  “I need Rafe,” I said, as quickly and succinctly as I could. “I need help. Perry Fortunato…”

  And that was all I got out, before Perry reached down and snatched the phone out of my hand. I heard Wendell’s stock answer float into thin air, “Nobody here by that name,” before Perry snapped the phone shut and tossed it over his shoulder into the recesses of the closet. Looking at me and shaking his head sadly, he clicked his tongue. “Savannah, Savannah. What am I going to do with you?”

  It wasn’t a question I wanted to answer, and judging from the light in his eyes and the excitement distorting his features, I thought he had a pretty good idea anyway, without my input.

  When he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet, I did my best to fight and get free, but all it got me was a clout on the side of the head which made me see stars. While I was blinking away tears and trying to pull myself together to try again, I heard Perry scrabbling in the dark, and then I heard a fizzing sound, and the next second, everything went black.

  * * *

  When I woke up, I was still in the Fortunatos’ house. For that matter, I was still in the master bedroom. The sun outside the window was a little lower in the sky, so I estimated that an hour or so might have passed, but no more. My head hurt, and I was feeling nauseous. This time it wasn’t just from fear and disgust, though; it was physical. From everything I had read and seen on TV, I rather thought Perry had hit me with a taser and knocked my cells for a loop.

  While I was unconscious, he had moved me from the closet onto the bed, and tied my hands to the headboard with a piece of twine. He had also undressed me.

  I wasn’t totally naked, so I suppose it could have been worse. The idea of Perry stripping off my underwear while I was out cold, was beyond disgusting and terrifying; it was abhorrent.

  On the other hand, the fact that he’d taken off my blouse and skirt was bad enough. I was still wearing the pink bra and panties I had put on that morning to match my pink blouse. Other than that, all I had on were earrings and black pumps with an ankle strap. My own. They looked a lot tartier without proper clothes to dress them up. And I had a perfect view of them, and of everything else, in the mirrored ceiling.

  Perry was nowhere to be seen, which was the one positive aspect of the situation. The flipside was that although he wasn’t here now, he was sure to be coming back, and there was nothing I could do but wait, since I couldn’t free my hands without help. I tugged as hard as I could, and twisted my hands, but all I accomplished was to make the rope bite into my wrists. An image of Lila’s hands, wrists abraded, in the photograph that Detective Grimaldi had shown me the day after Lila’s death, flashed through my mind, and I closed my eyes to fight back the tears.

  The door to hallway was closed, but after another few minutes, something seemed to happen downstairs. I heard what sounded like a thump, and then, unmistakably, footsteps on the stairs. Rapid, impatient steps. I pictured Perry bearing down on me, and renewed my thrashings. I knew it wouldn’t do any good, but it was the only thing I could do, so I did it. A hand grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but the door didn’t open. It strained, as if something heavy was pushing against it from the other side. For a breathless second, nothing happened, and then the door exploded inward with a splintering noise and an almighty bang as it slammed against the wall and bounced back. Rafe stood in the doorway, looking like the avenging hero in one of my favorite bodice rippers: muscles rippling, chest expanding, and eyes black as pitch.

  “Thank God!” I breathed.

  He didn’t answer, just stood there for a second, staring at me, catching his breath. I didn’t realize it until later, when I replayed the whole scene in my head, but he probably hadn’t been sure what he’d find behind the door, and he needed a moment to process the fact that I was alive, awake, and seemingly unharmed. Oh, yes, and practically naked. Once he had, his face settled into smooth expressionlessness again, and his voice was bland and courteous. Or as courteous as Rafe ever is.

  “Evening, darlin’.” He came into the room, his feet making no noise on the fluffy shag rug.

  “Hi,” I said, a little unsure how I felt about the flash of heat in his eyes.

  “Got yourself in a fix, ain’t you?”

  He stopped at the side of the bed and reached out to touch me. Gently, with just the tip of a finger, running it lightly up the inside of my arm from shoulder to wrist. I broke out in goosebumps, and if I didn’t gasp, it was a near thing. Gritting my teeth, I fought to keep my voice steady.

  “Please, Rafe, not now. Just untie me, OK? Before he comes back.”

  He didn’t move. “Oh, he ain’t gonna be back anytime soon. I left him downstairs.”

  Curiosity reared its head long enough for me to ask, “What did you do to him?”

  “Knocked him out on my way past. We’ve got some time.”

  “I don’t want any time,” I said, squirming. “I just w
ant to get untied.”

  “But surely you don’t expect me not to take advantage of the situation, darlin’? Not when I’ve got you just where I want you?”

  If he was feeling any urgency at all, I couldn’t tell by looking at him.

  “Tell you what,” I said desperately, “if you untie me, I’ll let you take advantage of me some other time instead.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I promise. Just get me out of here in one piece and without letting Perry touch me, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Now, there’s an offer that’s hard to refuse. Anything I want?”

  I hesitated. This was Rafe; he might want something I wasn’t prepared to give. “Within reason.”

  He smiled. “That ain’t what you said a second ago.”

  “Fine. Anything you want. Anything at all. Just please untie me!”

  “You gonna give that to me in writing, darlin’?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my patience as well as my fear quotient stretched very thin, “I’m a little tied up here.”

  “How about we seal it with a kiss, then?” He winked.

  “As long as it’s after you’ve untied me.”

  “Sure thing, darlin’.” He moved to the head of the bed to go to work on the knotted ropes, but before he got that far, Perry burst through the door. I’d been so focused on Rafe that I hadn’t even heard Perry come thundering up the stairs. And I must say he looked a little the worse for wear. He had a puffy lip, a swollen eye, and a burgeoning bruise on the side of his jaw. He also had murder in his eyes. Up until this moment, I had thought that to be a figure of speech. Now I realized I’d been wrong.

  “You!” He pointed a shaking finger at Rafe.

  “I thought you said you knocked him out!” I squeaked.

  Rafe shrugged. “Thought I did. Guess I was in a hurry. I’ll do better next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time!” Perry snarled, pulling a gun out of his pocket.

  The world stopped for a moment, while I processed the fact that this was the second time in a month I’d come face to face with a killer waving a gun.

  Unlike last time, this gun wasn’t aimed at me. Perry had it pointed straight at Rafe’s stomach, with a hand that didn’t shake at all anymore. I suppose the fact that he wasn’t threatening to shoot me ought to have made me feel better, but there was nothing to keep him from turning the gun on me once he’d shot Rafe, and if it came down to it, I didn’t particularly want to watch Rafe die, either. And at least when Walker had pointed his gun at me, I’d had the option of running away. Not so this time. I was stuck here, like a tethered goat. My demise seemed inevitable.

  Of course, I’d probably rather take a quick bullet to the head than have the life slowly squeezed out of me like Lila and Connie, but when the rubber met the road, I’d prefer not to die at all.

  Rafe probably didn’t want to die either, but he didn’t show it.

  “Shit,” he said, his voice even and unemotional, and his face expressionless. One would think he’d looked down the barrels of so many guns that they’d become old hat. It wasn’t an entirely comfortable thought, and I didn’t think I’d ever want to get to that point myself. Then again, if I ever did, at least I’d still be alive, and that was something.

  “What are you going to do to us?” I asked. And unlike Rafe’s voice, mine shook nervously. Perry turned to me, and it was a toss-up whether my semi-nudity or my fear excited him more. Either way, he was clearly flying high. His eyes shone and his nostrils flared.

  “First,” he said gaily, gesturing with the gun, “I figure I’ll shoot your boyfriend. It’ll be easier that way; I won’t have to worry about him butting in. Or maybe I should make him watch. That might prove interesting…”

  He eyed Rafe speculatively. Rafe stared back, his face a hard mask.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. Perry nodded, but solicitously, like he didn’t really believe me. “No,” I insisted, “he’s really not. My mother would disown me if I had anything to do with him.”

  Rafe looked at me, but didn’t speak.

  “Is that so?” Perry assessed him for a moment before turning back to me. “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why would your mother disown you if you had anything to do with him?”

  I lowered my voice apologetically, as if I could somehow prevent Rafe from hearing me. “Well… he’s not a gentleman.”

  “Not a gentleman?” Perry repeated blankly. One would think he had never heard the term before.

  I shook my head. “He’s really not. I mean, he grew up in a trailer. On the wrong side of town. With a single mother. One who got herself in the family way at fourteen. By a colored boy. He went to jail before he could vote. On top of that, he drives a motorcycle. And most importantly, he’s not a lawyer.”

  “A lawyer?” Perry said, blinking under the onslaught of mostly irrelevant information. I nodded, determined to distract him for as long as possible. Maybe if I could keep him talking, Rafe could come up with a way to overpower him. Unless I was seriously annoying Rafe, of course, and he decided not to bother trying to save me.

  “Everyone in my family is a lawyer. My father was a lawyer. My grandfather was a lawyer. My brother’s a lawyer. My brother-in-law is a lawyer. My ex-husband’s a lawyer. Even my ex-boyfriend…”

  “I get the point,” Perry said.

  “Well, I’m supposed to marry a lawyer. Or if not a lawyer, at least someone who’ll be an asset to the family. Not a common criminal. And of course it has to be someone my mother will approve of. He has to be successful, from a good family, and have a nice house and a nice car and enough money to provide for me. And the proper background and the right manners.”

  “Of course,” Perry said.

  “So you can see why I couldn’t possibly have anything to do with…” I lowered my voice apologetically and shot a glance in Rafe’s direction, “…him.”

  Perry contemplated him in silence for a moment before he nodded. The gun was still fixed on Rafe’s stomach, but Perry was clearly distracted. Rafe looked angry. There was heightened color in his cheeks, and the look he sent me could have pinned me to the wall, had I not already been pinned to the bed. I won’t repeat the words he used to describe what he’d like to do to me and my social attitudes, but they were blunt, coarse, and very rude. I blushed. Perry giggled, and Rafe turned to him. His eyes were dark and dangerous.

  “How about I make you a deal? With the mirrors and cameras and all…”

  Cameras? There were cameras?

  I twisted around frantically, trying to discover where they were, while Rafe continued smoothly, “…I figure you probably enjoy watching. If you’re gonna shoot her anyway, how about you let me take a turn with her first?”

  “How do I know you won’t do anything stupid?” Perry asked reasonably.

  Rafe shrugged. “You can always do her yourself, after. She ain’t a virgin, so it ain’t like I’m cheating you out of anything.”

  Perry hesitated. I could tell he was torn. On the one hand, he probably wanted first dibs on me, and was loath to give them up to someone else. On the other, I couldn’t blame him for preferring to work with Rafe rather than against him. Rafe looked like a formidable foe, and his explanation for why he wanted to ‘do’ me sounded reasonable. And Perry was just disgusting enough to find the prospect of watching Rafe rape me exciting.

  “Please,” I blurted, “don’t let him touch me!”

  Both men looked at me. “You afraid of me, darlin’?” Rafe asked. His voice was low and husky, and along with the anger, there was heat simmering in his eyes. He both looked and sounded frighteningly convincing.

  I nodded. Hell, yes. For the most part I had managed to get over my fear of him, but it wasn’t buried so deep that something like this couldn’t bring it back to the surface. At the moment, I found it only too easy to be afraid.

  Perry giggled. “You know what they say, Savannah. If it’s unavoidable, jus
t lie back and enjoy it.”

  “Is that what you said to Lila?” I asked, as Rafe’s lips curved in what looked like appreciation. “Before you raped and strangled her?”

  Perry’s face darkened. “Lila Vaughn was a tramp,” he said. “Always coming on to men. Always making eyes and showing her body. And then always saying no.”

  “Sounds like you, darlin’,” Rafe commented. I stared at him, shocked. “Always making promises and never delivering.”

  “I’ve never…!” I began, indignantly.

  His voice changed, and his mimicry of my tone and inflection was devastatingly accurate. “Please, Rafe. I’ll do anything you want. Just please help me.”

  It was only a couple of minutes since I’d used those words. Perry said, “Why don’t you take her up on that promise now?”

  “My pleasure.” Rafe turned to me. One of his hands – the one closest to Perry – went to the zipper in his jeans. I gulped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him slip the other hand into his pocket, but I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to it. All of my senses were focused on his face, on the smile that pulled the corners of his mouth up, and the desire licking at his pupils.

  “No,” I breathed, shaking my head and trying to scoot away. Perry giggled, and moved closer for a better view.

  The next thing that happened, happened so quickly that I didn’t see it. I saw the movement and the result, but not the act itself. Rafe’s hand whipped out of his jeans pocket in a flashing arc, and the next second, Perry’s gun went off. The bullet hit the bed a few inches from my thigh, and I screamed and twisted away. And then I screamed again when I saw Perry drop the gun and clutch at his stomach with both hands. Blood trickled between his fingers, and he looked down and up at Rafe again with shock on his face. Then his knees buckled, and he folded up on the shaggy carpet.