Heart of Gold

by J. R. Ward

  She heard a rustling behind her and then Buddy’s voice was close. “What is it?”

  Unfortunately, the makeshift torch was losing its strength. In the flickering glow, Carter reached out to the object she’d caught sight of.

  “It looks like an old munitions box.”

  About two feet long and a foot wide, it had leather handles on the ends that had mostly rotted away. Covered with dirt and moss, it looked as if the earth had a jealous hold on the thing.

  Before the light went out, Carter put her hand on top of the box. It was cold to the touch.

  “Metal,” she said, wondrously.

  And then they were surrounded by blackness.

  “Great,” Buddy muttered. “You think a big rock ball is going to come rolling down on top of us now?”

  “You know that only happens in the movies. You got more matches?”

  He struggled to light one but by the time Carter had knelt down, it was out.

  “Maybe we should come back with a flashlight,” Buddy suggested.

  “No way. Go find some more brush.”

  She heard him moving around and then a muffled thud was followed by a curse that came out loud and clear.

  Carter pivoted around in the darkness. “You okay?”

  “Backpack got me.”

  As she heard the sound of his boots shifting more slowly across the floor of the cave, her fingers searched for the box again. She was exploring the shape of it and wondering what period it dated from when there was a click and the space was flooded with light.

  She looked into the source of it, reaching an arm up to shelter her eyes. “How did you—”

  “I love my daughter,” Buddy said cheerfully. “Such a good little packer.”

  Shining the light on the box, he stood behind her as she inspected it.

  “The top’s been corroded shut. This is old, Buddy. This is very old.”

  She was inspecting the object from every vantage point when Buddy sucked in his breath.

  “Holy Moses,” he murmured in astonishment.

  “What?”

  He nodded at the wall.

  She looked up.

  In rough strokes, a cross had been drawn onto the stone by something that looked like black ashes. It was barely visible against the lichen-covered walls but it glowed in the light, a holy marker.

  And then Carter heard a grunt of pain and Buddy collapsed on top of her.

  23

  IT WAS late in the morning when Nick softly shut the door to Cort’s bedroom. He felt like he was surfacing from a nightmare, surprised and relieved to find everything was as it should be.

  The kid had rebounded with vigor. After sleeping for a couple of hours, and with his blood sugar level stabilized, he’d been released after breakfast. Although Nick was glad to get him home, the kid’s ability to recover quickly had always been a concern. It made him worry that Cort wouldn’t respect the gravity of his condition.

  But he had hope now. Courtesy of what they’d shared at the hospital, Nick felt as if they were coming together to face the diabetes. Two against one. More of a fair fight.

  They’d gotten even closer after returning home. Once back at the mansion, they had gone up to Cort’s bedroom and spoken for the first time about the deaths that had brought their lives together. It had been a halting talk, full of long silences and awkward hand-offs as questions were asked and answered. For the first time, Nick had the chance to share some of his bittersweet memories of Melina with her son. Cort had listened raptly, soaking in the descriptions of summer days on the lake, of Christmases in New York, of his mother’s debutante ball.

  “Mr. Farrell?”

  Nick turned to see Ellie standing in the hallway.

  “Is he going to be okay?” she asked anxiously. “I know they said so but…”

  “Yes, he is. He’s resting now but you can call him when you get back to Cambridge. He’ll be anxious to hear from you.”

  “Yeah?” Hope and warmth flared in her eyes.

  “Told me himself.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Is there something you need, Ellie?”

  “Have you seen my dad?” There was subtle worry in her voice.

  Nick shook his head.

  “He’s supposed to take me to the train station. He was going up the mountain to get my backpack while I took a shower. That was around nine.”

  From downstairs, they heard the sound of the front door open.

  “Ellie?” Buddy’s voice drifted up from the foyer.

  Nick saw relief surge into the girl’s face.

  “I’m up here,” she called out and started walking down the hall.

  “Do you know where Mr. Farrell is?” her father asked, the words spaced carefully.

  Nick frowned. Something was wrong. He could tell by the sliver of fear in the man’s words. “I’m right next to her.”

  “Could I meet you in your study? Ellie, I’ll be with you in a sec.”

  Coming to the head of the stairs, Nick caught a glimpse of Buddy’s back as he disappeared around the corner.

  Why was the man covered in dirt? he wondered.

  “What about my train?” Ellie murmured.

  “Stay up here.”

  When he got to the study, he found Buddy standing in the middle of the room, glassy-eyed from shock and bleeding from a head wound.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “He took her.”

  Nick’s heart stopped pumping. “Carter?”

  “We need to call the police.”

  “Who?” Nick was struggling to make his mouth work. “What?”

  “We went to get Ellie’s backpack and found something else in the cave. Carter and I were in there trying to figure out what it was when someone hit me over the head. I woke up she was gone. I think it might have been Lyst.”

  Nick felt the world start spinning on its axis again.

  “Any idea how long you were out for?”

  “An hour. Tops. But it was long enough for him to make it down the mountain with her.”

  Carter’s head bumped on something hard and the pain woke her up. As her stomach rolled in a queasy swell, she took a deep breath and smelled oil and gasoline.

  Christ, she was in the trunk of a car.

  Opening her eyes, she couldn’t see anything and realized that she had some kind of sack over her head. She began flailing around and found out her hands were tied. She strained against their hold, getting nowhere.

  She remembered crouching down in the cave, reaching out to the strongbox, and then being crushed by Buddy’s weight. The flashlight had rolled aside and she’d seen a dark shape coming toward her. She’d struggled with her attacker, then felt something come over her face. The moldy odor of the cave had been replaced with a sickeningly sweet smell and then all had gone black.

  Where the hell was she being taken?

  Panic made her start yanking at her hands, twisting them madly to try to get free. Choking on fear, she felt the heat of her own gasping breath flood the inside of the sack. And then she returned to the darkness again.

  The next thing she knew, hands were coming under her body. She was being lifted out of the trunk and put on her feet. Her knees sagged and she was propped up against the car. Fresh air seeped through the bag and she could see a lighter glow. It was still daylight.

  Her heart began to beat in a rapid fire as her mind grappled with the facts. There was only one person she could think of who would kidnap her.

  “Feeling better now that you’re out of the trunk?” Lyst mocked, as if on cue.

  “They’re going to find you,” she said inside the sack.

  He pushed her roughly off the car. “Shut up and get moving.”

  He elbowed her again and she took a step forward, stumbling because her feet were loosely tied. After a few yards, Lyst jerked her to a halt and she heard a door creak open. As she was shoved inside, her boots caught on something and she started to fall, only nar
rowly saving herself. The door was shut.

  She was forced into a chair and Carter felt the tie around her neck loosen. The sack was stripped off her head. She blinked myopically, adjusting to the dim light. Ahead of her, wilted curtains were drawn, shutting out the daylight. She was in a cheap hotel but, not knowing how long she’d been out cold, she wasn’t sure which state she was in.

  She could hear Lyst breathing behind her and felt true terror. She wondered in a surge of panic if he was going to kill her and prayed that Buddy had made it down the mountain to find Nick. That they were searching for her.

  That they would find her, somehow.

  Tears came to her eyes but she was determined to remain calm. Lyst was a sick bastard and she knew he would feed off any weakness she showed. If she was going to make it through this, she would have to be strong. At least on the outside.

  “They’re going to catch you,” she said defiantly. “They’re going to find you and—”

  Lyst stepped in front of her and calmly slapped her across the face. Her head snapped back in the chair and she felt a stinging pain in her cheek.

  “Don’t piss me off, okay?”

  As scared as she was, the assault galvanized her. Instead of cowering, Carter’s eyes rose and met his with hostility. He seemed surprised and somewhat pleased by the reaction.

  “You’re one tough broad.” He smiled.

  Lyst’s hair was messy and his clothes were dirty and disheveled, with darker patches of dried sweat staining the shirt. She realized that he must have carried her off the mountain.

  He sauntered over to the phone. “Now, we’re going to reach out and touch your lover. You better hope he’s concerned with your physical safety.”

  Lyst’s eyes trained on her, searching for a reaction. She refused to show him any fear.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this,” she said evenly. “We haven’t found the gold.”

  “Don’t be naïve.” He waved her comment away impatiently. “I don’t give a shit about the gold. What I need—want—is money.”

  Carter’s eyes narrowed. There was something behind the slip he’d just made and she wondered if it held a clue as to what was driving him.

  He picked up the receiver. “If Farrell wants to keep you alive, he’s going to have to be really generous. What’s his number?”

  Carter drew a blank. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you correctly.” Lyst’s eyes lashed at her.

  “I don’t have it.”

  With a speed that frightened her and made her rethink whether she might be able to overpower him, he bolted from the bed and came up to her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked hard. “Tell me the goddamn number.”

  Through gritted teeth, Carter got out, “I’ve never called the man before. I don’t know it.”

  Towering over her, his face pressed in close to hers, she saw sweat on his upper lip and a twitch in his left eye. Desperation had come out in his face, making his eyes too wide and his mouth tight.

  “Do not fuck with me,” he growled, giving her hair another pull. When she just continued to stare back at him, he let go and returned to the phone, apparently to call information.

  Carter had to swallow hysterical laughter. She’d been kidnapped, taken to some seedy hotel room, and the lunatic was calling 411?

  The thought didn’t strike her as funny anymore when it occurred to her that Nick might have an unlisted number. Fortunately, Lyst scribbled something down on a pad and then dialed again.

  There was triumph in his voice when he said, “Farrell? I think I have something you want.”

  When Nick’s angry response came over the phone loud and clear, she almost wept with relief. She knew, as soon as she heard the resolve in his voice, that he would do everything in his power and more to come get her. It was gratifying to see a little of Lyst’s confidence drain out of his face.

  Carter took a deep breath, the first one since she had been captured. Nick was going to come for her. She knew it as plainly as she recognized the danger she was in, and the realization was an antidote to her fear. One way or the other, Lyst was going to be brought down. She just knew it.

  She frowned, surprised by the measure of calm that had come over her. That feeling was about trust, she realized with astonishment.

  Trust.

  She thought back to the way Nick had come up to get her on the mountain during the storm, how he had driven her to the doctor, taken care of her. Why hadn’t she recognized his actions before for what they were? As proof that he cared for her, was willing and able to take care of her. She’d been so scared of getting hurt, she hadn’t seen in his actions what she had been looking for all along in his words.

  Regret burned as she thought of what she might have lost forever. Images of Nick and her together came in a painful flood, and the distance between them struck her as a misguided waste. She’d never given him a chance to really explain about her father’s arrival. She’d pushed him away because of her problems with her family, because of her vulnerability and her fear of him and his past.

  But he was coming for her. Even still, he was coming for her.

  It gave her hope that there was still a chance for them.

  Carter glanced over at Lyst.

  Assuming Nick got to her before the other man did something really horrific.

  “Now, Farrell, there’s no reason to get nasty,” Lyst was drawling into the phone. He shot her an outrageous wink. “Here’s our new deal. You’re going to give me five million dollars and I’m going to give you your girlfriend back in one piece. Nice and simple. Here’s the account I want you to put the money in. When I get confirmation of the deposit, I’ll call you back and arrange for the return of your little piece of ass.”

  He read a series of numbers out. “Now, don’t get to thinking independently and going to the police. Let’s just keep this gentlemen’s agreement between us. It will be better for her that way. Oh, and Farrell? If you dawdle, I’m liable to get bored and there’s nothing to do in this fleabag motel except her—you know what I mean? So let’s be quick about this. I’ll call you back in an hour.”

  He hung up the phone with a triumphant smile. “Well, that went nicely. You’ll be pleased to know, no doubt, that Farrell is extremely worried about you. That’s a good sign.”

  Lyst reclined on the bed, pushing his legs out in front of him. “He seems awfully attached to you. Maybe I should have asked for more money.”

  Carter stayed silent and shifted in the chair to try to ease her stiff muscles. The movement also gave her a pretext for trying to work her hands against the rope in hopes of loosening it. She didn’t get far with the effort. The skin at her wrists had already been shredded and she suspected the new wetness she felt on her palms was her own blood.

  She stilled herself and noticed Lyst’s eyes traveling over her, hot and speculative.

  “How do you like being tied up? Does it turn you on?”

  With a shudder, she attempted to distract him. “I thought you were after the gold.”

  He shrugged. “I was. But events have— Let’s just say, I need to go on a long vacation. And I don’t have time for you to find that treasure.”

  Carter felt a surge of hope, thinking he might have already gotten himself in trouble with the authorities. Had some of his black-market deals come back to haunt him? Maybe the police were already after him.

  “You can’t honestly believe you’re going to get away with this,” she said stridently.

  “Oh, I’m feeling pretty good about things. And five million goes damn far in a third-world country. I’ll live like a king.” He got off the bed and approached her. “Which makes me think. Perhaps I should take you with me. I imagine you’d make the nights much more interesting.”

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek and she turned away. Lyst captured her chin and forced her head in his direction. “This hard-to-get act is wearing thin.”

  Carter blanched as
he bent down toward her.

  As soon as he hung up the phone, Nick had to fight to control his raging emotions. Fear and anger hit him hard, making him feel as though someone had shot him in the chest. He looked across the desk at Buddy.

  “Lyst has her. He wants money.” Nick wrenched a hand through his hair, his eyes going blurry. He focused on the ceiling, willing his vision back. “But at least we have something to tell the goddamn police now.”

  Nick picked up the phone again, rubbing the back of his neck as he dialed. “Freddie? I need you to arrange a wire transfer of five million dollars to the following account at Credit Suisse. But don’t execute. Just be ready. And get me the number of John Smith. Thanks.”

  Nick hastily scrawled a number down on a sheet of paper. John Smith was a specialist in messy events, a tough man whose U.S. Marine and intelligence background had been useful to many Wall Street kingpins. As soon as the guy’s voice came over the line, Nick quickly relayed the status of events.

  Smith got right to the point. “I’ll call my buddies in the FBI immediately, and I’ll put an electronic trace on the account. You talk with the state police yet?”

  “They’re already up on the mountain and we’ve got a couple in the kitchen coordinating with some of the local sheriffs. Lyst warned me not to call anyone but they were already here.”

  “Good. Tell them everything, in spite of what the guy said. You’re going to want their help. Did they set up a wiretap on your phones?”

  “It’s almost ready.”

  When Nick hung up, he looked at Buddy and the statie who was finishing up with the wiretapping. A thought occurred to him. Lyst had said something about a fleabag motel, and lodging was pretty scarce so far north. Considering the amount of time that had passed, he might have her close by.

  Nick went to the kitchen where several armed policemen were at the table, making calls and speaking into walkie-talkies. He told them what Lyst had said and his theory. After mentioning the FBI had been contacted, he went back to his study. Although he appreciated everything the authorities were doing, he was frustrated. He wanted Carter back, wanted to take her into his arms and feel her safe against him. Anything short of that was a failure.