Striking Distance

by Debra Webb

  Lucas smiled in spite of the tension vibrating inside him. No one knew better than he what an amazing woman Victoria Colby really was.

  * * *

  Standing before the full-length mirror, Seth adjusted the lapels of the tuxedo, then checked the bow tie. Perfect.

  He picked up the elegantly embossed invitation from the dresser and walked out of the master suite belonging to the man whose name was inscribed beneath the words requests the presence of… He would be among the last to arrive at the gala event, but no one would notice since he had taken meticulous steps to alter his appearance.

  The eyeglasses, brown-tinted contacts and the temporary rinse he’d used to darken his hair provided a slight resemblance to the man who had been conveniently called away on business. Leberman had seen to every necessary detail. But the most important aspect of Seth’s camouflage tonight was the layers of skin-colored latex that added fullness to his face and neck and simultaneously covered his one readily visible distinguishing mark, the scar on his jaw. The carefully applied makeup that allowed for the other man’s lighter coloring, face, throat and hands, and finally, the padding that piled on the extra forty pounds that completed the image.

  All in all he felt confident that no one, not even Lucas himself, would recognize him.

  Twenty minutes later, after allowing the valet to take his borrowed Mercedes, Seth put his skills at disguise to the test. As he expected, he was waved through by local security without a second glance.

  Now all he had to do was move into position.

  Five days ago he had come to the Cultural Center in response to their frantic call for maintenance on the heating and cooling system. With an electronic monitor on the land line he had easily intercepted the telephone call. The problem was simple, especially since he was the one who’d rigged the fault. He’d taken his time, explored the ventilation and return ductwork until he found what he wanted. Access to Preston Bradley Hall. The necessary returns placed about the enormous room provided several different angles in the event the stage was not positioned as he expected.

  Escaping once he’d accomplished his goal would not be such an easy task, since he would still need to get out of the building and would have already shed his disguise. So he had arranged a couple of diversions. With a crowd this size it wasn’t a difficult task. A fire alarm and then, ten seconds later, a small explosion near the first-level rear entrance. The hysteria that followed would provide all the distraction he needed.

  Once he’d reached the access area, he shucked the tux and peeled off the disguise, contacts included, and shoved them out of sight. He donned the coveralls and assembled the weapon he would use for the job, all of which he’d stashed five days ago.

  After attaching the silencer, he eased into the long galvanized-steel tunnel that wound around and eventually took him to Preston Bradley Hall.

  He slipped into position and peered through the louvers he’d pried apart just enough to facilitate the tip of his weapon. He’d disposed of the filter, which left nothing but the thin louvered metal door between him and the crowd settling at their respective tables.

  Now he would wait.

  Because of the large crowd anticipated, the thermostat had been set to a lower temperature to ensure comfort during the exclusive event. Despite that step, sweat had already beaded on his forehead.

  Leberman was here already. It wasn’t necessary to spot him in the crowd or to recognize the disguise he used. Seth sensed his presence just as one sensed a coming storm in the air. The very atmosphere changed. Every nerve ending cracked as an anxiety he’d thought behind him inched up his spine. He gritted his teeth and forced away the memories that threatened. He would not be distracted.

  Forty-one long minutes passed with one politician after the other raving about their beloved city of Chicago and the glorious Victoria Colby and all her worthwhile accomplishments as an entrepreneur and businesswoman.

  His gut clenching with anger as every accolade echoed in the enormous hall, he tuned out the meaningless words. Politicians were fools, anyway. He wondered how lofty Victoria Colby would feel a few moments from now. A smile stretched across his face. Now, there was something to look forward to.

  Finally the mayor stepped up to the podium to make the presentation they had all waited for.

  A standing ovation accompanied her as Victoria Colby rose like a regal queen and advanced to the podium. When she began to speak, the crowd stopped clapping and resumed their seats. She made what she must have considered a moving speech that garnered her yet another round of enthusiastic applause.

  As she concluded, Lucas Camp made his way to the stage, dressed in his black tux, his silver-handled black cane making him look all the more distinguished. He extended his hand to Victoria as she descended the first of three steps leading down from the stage. The delicate crystal Woman of the Year award clutched against her chest with one hand, she reached out to her beloved protector with the other.

  Seth squinted into the scope, snugged his finger around the trigger as he steadied his aim, then took the shot.

  Lucas Camp fell forward.

  The Woman of the Year award shattered on the marble floor.

  Victoria caught Lucas in her arms, his weight pulling her downward, the blood from his head wound turning her lovely white gown a sinister crimson.

  CHAPTER 24

  He stood in the darkness, his eyes closed as he absorbed the sounds. Allowed the tension to drain from him. His respiration slowed as he gradually became one with the night. Years of surviving in the darkness had given him power over the night.

  He was not afraid…not afraid of anything or anyone.

  Not anymore.

  The stillness crept closer…the night sounds like a familiar lullaby. He’d learned to embrace the darkness and to let go of all else. That had been his only means of existence.

  It was true that he was alone, but that had never mattered. He needed no one…nothing.

  Her image slipped into his meditation, etching a frown across his brow. She’d followed him last night, not that he was really surprised. He had wondered at her seeming innocence. She was not like any of the other women he had known. Certainly not what he had expected considering her chosen occupation. He almost laughed at that. There had never been a time when he’d bothered to know anyone. He wouldn’t miss or need what he didn’t know.

  He didn’t need her.

  Perhaps it wasn’t about need.

  He simply wanted her.

  His eyes opened and he stared beyond the dark, beyond the cloak of trees that sheltered his position, to the lake that glistened like glass beneath the moon’s pale glow. She was out there. Not so far away. He could have her. He was certain of it. Her eyes had given her away…the way she’d licked her lips as she’d watched another woman take him. Even now his body reacted to the yearning that had clearly surprised her. Though, like him, she’d sensed the connection from the beginning.

  She’d wanted to touch him that way. To feel the weight of him in her hands, the thrust of him inside her hot, lush mouth. He’d wanted the same thing. It was the thought of her that had sent his fingers plunging into the other woman’s hair. Not once had he touched a woman that way—with tenderness or intimacy on any level other than the requisite physical contact necessary for release.

  But he longed to touch Tasha that way. He couldn’t shake the fiercely primal craving. Couldn’t completely block thoughts of her.

  His frown deepened. Mere curiosity kept his thoughts going back to her. It couldn’t be anything else. Desire alone would not be enough. He’d conquered that emotion long ago.

  The intensity of her own desire had shaken her, and still she hadn’t been able to look away from the carnal act taking place before her.

  But he had interfered.

  Seth clenched his tee
th at the thought of Leberman. He should have killed the son of a bitch then and there. But he’d sworn to repay this one final debt. He might let the bastard live to see that debt fulfilled and then he would finish him if their paths crossed again. Never again would the bastard control him…punish him. Never.

  His lips tipped into a smile when he thought of how outraged Leberman would be that the day had not ended as he had decreed. He’d laid out the plan he wanted carried out step by step. Every move calculated so carefully.

  Too bad. Seth had developed his own plan. The end result would be much the same, but it would be carried out his way whether he liked it or not.

  He cut his eyes to the right, his senses moving instantly to an elevated status of alert. He inclined his head, listening for any sound that would confirm his instinct. A leaf crunched under the weight of a silent footstep. Ten meters away.

  He was certain no one had followed him here tonight or any other night. No one had any idea he came to this place. Tasha had been to the house once…but he’d warned her to stay away. There was only one who knew of his draw to this particular spot. That singular, deep-rooted urgency to occupy this place and know control over his own destiny.

  The brush of foliage against fabric…closer.

  Seth stepped back, shielding himself behind a towering oak tree. His skin prickled with a familiar warning.

  “I knew you’d be here.”

  Seth moved toward him with the stealth he’d learned long ago to avoid punishment.

  The tip of his 9 mm pressed against the man’s skull before he suspected Seth had approached him. “Are you ready to die?” he asked from between clenched teeth. He’d warned him twice already.

  Leberman turned, faced him and the weapon with its chambered round as if the risk of death were of no consequence to him.

  “You disobeyed my orders.”

  The statement was spoken far too casually. Seth tensed. Tightened his grip on his weapon. This was not like his hated mentor. He resisted the apprehension nagging at his gut.

  “This day was very important,” Leberman rambled on, as if discussing the latest political uprising in some third-world country. “It was the perfect occasion. I had waited for this moment so very, very long. Yet you blatantly disregarded my wishes.”

  “The result was the same,” Seth ground out, quickly growing sick of the bastard’s presence despite his uneasiness. “You saw the look on her face the same as I did. The horror…the surrender. She would gladly have traded her life for his in that split second.”

  “That’s all quite true but not the issue at hand.” He eased closer, allowing the business end of the weapon to bore into his chest, then slapped Seth hard. Seth refused to flinch…clenched his jaw. His grip on his weapon tightened so that his arm trembled, but he would not back off. Wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

  When Leberman spoke again, his tone was accusing…threatening. “You expressly disobeyed my order. I will know the reason for such insubordination.”

  For one instant panic trickled through Seth, but he brutally squashed it. He would not feel that fear again. “The job will be finished on schedule,” he said between gritted teeth. “But I have decided that the manner and timing of events will be at my discretion.” He lowered his weapon. “End of subject.”

  “Your discretion?” Leberman echoed haughtily.

  Seth turned his back on the man he despised almost as much as he did the final target of this mission and walked away. The past was over. Only the future could bring him the peace he sought.

  “This is how you thank me for saving your life.”

  Seth stilled. The words rang out like a death knell from the church tower in a medieval village, dragging him back in time regardless of his determination not to go, twisting his gut with remembered agony. The pain…the confusion and endless punishments. He didn’t want to go back there. Wouldn’t go back there.

  Taking his time, he faced his ruthless, self-proclaimed savior. “Yes,” he said harshly, his breath growing more shallow and rapid with each passing second. “You saved me from certain death, and I will repay that debt.”

  Leberman released a melodramatic sigh and waved his arms in orchestration as if the words he intended to utter were a garish symphony regaling his selflessness. “I taught you everything you know…made you all that you are. Without me you wouldn’t have survived. I am your maker…the man who created you. You owe me everything.”

  Claimed by renewed fury and hatred, Seth took two long strides toward Leberman before realizing he’d moved. He beat back the emotions that would undermine his control, but it proved more difficult than usual. “You made me all that I am, rightly enough. I have the scars to prove it.” Before he could stop himself he was toe-to-toe with Leberman once more. “I suffered your endless beatings… days on end without food…and the training.” He laughed, the sound as evil as that of the very savior who had schooled him so well. “Do you have any idea what they did to me?”

  Long-exiled memories came flooding back…threatened his already strained hold on control.

  “They did only what I instructed,” Leberman said bluntly. “Everything happens for a reason. The torture made you untouchable…made you stronger.”

  “Go to hell, you bastard,” Seth snarled. “I’ll do what I came here to do because I want it.” He pounded on his disfigured chest. “I want to watch Victoria Colby die just as much as you do, maybe more.” He took a moment to slow his ragged breathing, to steady his shaking hands. “Final warning. Don’t come near me again. Or the teacher will become the student, and I don’t think you’ll like your first lesson.”

  He walked away without looking back.

  For the last time.

  CHAPTER 25

  AT 4:00 a.m. Victoria took a deep breath and made the journey to the private waiting room where Ian and Simon, as well as two of Lucas’s men, waited. She produced a faint smile for the police officers, Chicago’s finest dressed in their stiffly starched dark blues, gathered in the corridor outside the doors marked No Visitors Beyond This Point that she had just exited.

  Chicago PD had gone above and beyond the call of duty. The shooting as well as the fire alarm and minor explosion had sent the crowd into a panic-stricken mass exodus. Only with the quick and levelheaded thinking of the boys in blue had the evacuation occurred without additional injuries or worse. That was the only level of involvement by the local authorities that Lucas had allowed thus far.

  At the waiting-room door she drew together the lapels of Ian’s jacket. He’d cloaked her shoulders with it hours ago, more to cover the gruesome bloodstains on her dress, she imagined, than to shield her from the brisk October night. One last deep breath and she prepared to deliver the news.

  She entered the room and all talk ceased.

  Vincent Ferrelli and Ramon Vega, two of Lucas’s Specialists, Ian and Simon all turned their attention to her and waited expectantly. Each still wore his tailored tux—except Ian’s jacket was missing—and all looked very much like the remainder of the old regime still standing after a conquering military invasion.

  “You’ll all be able to see him soon,” she announced, knowing the words would banish a good deal of the tension thickening the air in the room.

  A collective sigh of relief sounded.

  “But first,” Victoria said, pushing all emotion away, “I’d like to clarify my position on this latest turn of events.”

  Dead silence settled over the room once more.

  Victoria looked from Ian to Simon, her most trusted men, and then to those Lucas trusted just as much. “Leberman was there last night, just as the assassin was. You can be assured that he’s close now, waiting to hear if the assassination attempt was successful. Lucas wants him to believe that it was.” She allowed the one emotion that would get her through this. Absolute f
ury flamed as hot as Hades inside her. “I don’t give a damn what he believes. I want him dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She surveyed the grim faces. “I want him dead…today.”

  Ian moved toward her. “Victoria—”

  She stopped him with one upraised hand. “No one is going to change my mind. I want both of those bastards dead. I don’t care what it takes.”

  Ferrelli shrugged nonchalantly. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Ramon shot him a quelling look. “Mrs. Colby,” he offered, “we should wait to see what Lucas has to say about this.”

  “Listen to him,” Simon put in, “he’s right. Besides, Leberman isn’t coming out anytime soon. You know that. He’ll stay in hiding, savoring his coup for at least a couple of days or until he finds out the attempt failed.”

  Victoria shot Simon a scathing look. “I think I know Errol Leberman better than anyone in this room and I know what he wants.” She turned to Ian then. “You put the word out on the street that I want a face-to-face meeting with him. Anyplace, anytime as long as it’s soon.”

  Ian gave his head a slow, deliberate shake. “I won’t let you do that. That’s what he wants.”

  Victoria lifted her chin in challenge. “That’s what I want as well. I don’t care if I have to put out a personal plea on the local radio stations. Whatever it takes. I want a face-to-face with Leberman today.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  The sound of Lucas’s voice propelled her into an about-face. “What’re you doing up?” she demanded.

  John Logan and a tall young man in a surgical scrub suit trailed behind him. Victoria recognized the young man as the surgeon who’d taken care of Lucas. “He won’t listen to a word I say,” the doctor lamented.

  Victoria doubted anyone in the room was surprised.

  A bandage covered Lucas’s forehead. He looked pale, weary, and her heart lurched as the whole scene played out in her mind’s eye once more. He’d fallen into her arms, blood pouring from his head wound. For three endless beats she’d been certain he was dead. And then he’d taken her down to the floor with him, telling her to stay down as blood covered his face completely.