Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy)

by Craig, Susan

  It must be… “Mark?”

  “Yes.” Mark Hunter ripped off the ski mask. His pale blue eyes were narrowed and his thin, chapped lips curled in a sneer. “I see you remember attempting to seduce me. But unlike those fools on the balcony, I resisted your wiles.”

  Seduce Mark Hunter? What the hell was he talking about?

  “If Donovan and Smith had resisted you they wouldn’t be here now. But the burden of blame falls on you. You and your female tricks, tempting them into helping you break your vows.”

  She shuddered, but reached out an imploring hand. “You’re right. It’s my fault. Let them go. I deserve to be punished, not them.”

  “No. It’s right that they should suffer for their weakness. But when you have proven your repentance, they will be released.”

  She shuddered again, wrapping her arms around herself against the chill of terror that threatened to engulf her. It didn’t matter what Mark said. He couldn’t afford to let any of them go, and she knew it. But she mustn’t give in to fear. She had to stay focused, drive out the fear with anger. Reaching inside, she sought fuel for her hatred. It wasn’t hard to find. This man had played with her life, and now he thought he could do what he wanted with people she cared about and with her. She bowed her head, not wanting him to see the fury that built within her. The third time she shook, it was deliberate.

  “Feeling cold, Sally? Think of your poor, deluded lovers out on the balcony.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out Jim’s phone. His hand moved and he waited, listening. “What have you done with your phone?” he demanded.

  She allowed her voice to tremble, and tried to appear cowed and submissive. “I left it in the truck.” Thank God. He couldn’t know they’d called the police. “When you called me, I was afraid and dropped it.” Her mind worked at warp speed—there had to be a way to get that gun pointed elsewhere—a moment would be all she needed. Mark gestured down the hallway with his free hand.

  “Let’s go. The sooner you redeem yourself, the sooner the fools on the balcony will be allowed back indoors.”

  Sally obediently walked ahead of him, praying for some distraction… a door opening, someone coming up the elevator…anything.

  “Stop there.” He opened the door to three-twelve and shoved her inside with a push that sent her to her knees. Warmth blanketed the apartment, and scented candles flickered in a long row on the countertop dividing the kitchen from the living area. The scent of wax, smoke and perfume was overwhelming, making Sally’s head spin. I will not faint. Focus. Wait for an opening.

  Keeping the gun trained on her, Mark opened the drapes to the balcony. Sally’s heart tore at the sight of Jim, shirtless in the freezing night, with his arms duct-taped to the icy wrought iron railing. His eyes were open, but his face was an emotionless mask. Daniel’s looked lifeless, with blue lips and cold white skin..

  Mark smirked in satisfaction at the horror on her face. “It’s all your fault, for being faithless, unworthy of a Marine. They suffer because of you.”

  Bowing her head as if in defeat, Sally shoved her feelings aside. She couldn’t afford distractions now. Deliberately, she turned from the window and looked at Mark, hiding, she hoped, the hatred that gripped her. “I have been so wrong,” she said contritely. “Please forgive me.”

  Mark gave her a superior smile, his eyes lit with gloating anticipation. “Words won’t save you or them. You’re going to be my whore, as you were theirs. Isn’t it a lovely irony that they will watch you pay the penalty for your unfaithfulness? Now take those things off and put on clothing more appropriate to your true character. You called the police to remove my gift. That was rude of you. I left it as a reminder of my promise. But I always keep my word.” He gestured toward a small bag on the couch. “Change into those now. Here.”

  The knife. “I can’t.”

  “Are you defying me?” He raised the gun.

  “No, of course not.” She lowered her eyes, bowing her head a bit. “But please let me go into the bathroom and change there. I need to… Please.”

  “Do you think I’m a fool? You still hope to escape. But there is no way out without going past me. Go ahead. You have two minutes.”

  She grabbed the bag on the couch and ran from the room, breathing a sigh of relief as she slipped into the bathroom. When she pulled the items from the bag, her stomach tried to revolt. The black panties were no more than a triangle of silk held up by lengths of chain running across her derriere. Her skin crawled as she slipped them on. The black shelf bra covered nothing, but raised her breasts up like bonbons on a serving tray. More ominous was the heavy studded-leather collar with a foot of chain hanging from it. With shaking hands she put it on, the chain hanging between her breasts.

  Her stomach rolled again at the prospect of Jim seeing Mark’s eyes on her body in this get-up, but she immediately negated that response. She couldn’t afford it. Nor could she afford to admit the glint of mayhem she had seen in Mark’s eyes.

  Hide the knife.

  She buried it below her pile of clothing and searched the room for a weapon she could conceal. Finding nothing useful, she palmed the truck key—she would go straight for his eyes if she got the chance—and returned, barefooted, to the living room.

  Mark was standing next to the balcony window. Refusing to let her eyes follow her heart to Jim, she stopped in the middle of the room, fighting revulsion and panic at the mocking way Mark raked his eyes over her.

  “Yes. Now you look like what you are.” His smile was as cold as the below-zero wind-chill. Running his tongue over chapped lips, he gestured with the gun for her to come forward.

  She took a few steps closer.

  “Over here, so Donovan has a good view. Now on your knees.” He reached out and yanked on the chain affixed to the collar she wore.

  Stumbling to her knees, she knelt before him, looking at the carpet between his feet. He took a step forward, and she felt the muzzle of the gun resting on her neck, just above her collarbone. The cold metal slid up under her jaw, raising her head and bringing her eyes level with his belt buckle.

  The venom in his voice poisoned what feeble hope remained. “You know what I want. Do me.”

  chapter twenty

  Swallowing hard, Sally let the key slip to the floor as she lifted her hands to her captor’s belt buckle. Her brain screamed at her to fight back somehow, but with the muzzle of his gun at her neck, she didn’t dare.

  As her hands hesitated, unwilling to touch any part of him, he grabbed her head with both hands, the hard steel of the gun handle biting into her skull. Forcing her face forward, he jammed her mouth into his crotch, rubbing it back and forth against the denim covering his erection.

  She didn’t need to see. Her fist came up between his legs in a hard uppercut with all the power of her athlete’s body behind it.

  He gasped in pain and released her, then brought the butt of the gun down hard against the back of her head, landing a blow that shot bursts of light into her eyes as she jammed her fist upward again. She grabbed his gun arm with both hands, just below the elbow, pushing it away from her. A shot splintered the silence of the night and shattered the glass between apartment and balcony.

  From behind Sally came the sudden sound of wood rending as the doorframe split apart and someone yelled, “Down!”

  Mark’s body twisted, and the arm she held swung back toward the sound.

  Letting go, she dropped flat on the floor, covering her head with her arms.

  Three explosions in quick succession battered her eardrums.

  She raised her head. Mark was staggering backward onto the balcony, still holding the gun, though red blossomed from his shoulder. He was staring straight at her, lips curled away from his teeth and madness in his eyes. As he steadied himself against the railing, he raised the muzzle of the gun and pointed it at her. The shouted orders from behind faded out of hearing. Terror immobilized her. There was nothing in her world but the hatred in his eyes and the gun lifting towa
rd her face.

  No! Tyler.

  As if in slow motion, she saw Jim move. His whole body coiled up and, as the gun steadied on her, his legs shot out and up at an impossible sideways angle, the railing beneath his arms supporting his whole weight. His feet caught Mark below the ribs, thrusting him up and to the side. A gun fired. Sally winced, anticipating the pain of hot lead ripping through her flesh, but there was nothing. With a grunt, Mark rocked off-balance against the railing, grasped for it, and, with a startled cry, toppled off the balcony.

  Sally heard Demarco’s voice amid the clamor as she raced into the cold, heedless of the broken glass and her bare feet. She heard a dull thud as Mark hit the cement three stories below. Her fingers fumbled as she searched for the edge of the tape that immobilized Jim’s upper body, fear and relief twisting together in her heart.

  As soon as she had freed one arm, Jim roughly shoved her hands aside. With a terse command—“Help Smith. I can get this”—he began to work on freeing his other arm.

  Refusing to feel hurt, she moved to Daniel, peeling tape off his icy arms. Jim, free now, hoisted Daniel in his arms and carried him in to the couch. “Get some towels,” he said.

  She turned toward the bathroom, but an officer was already emerging with a handful of towels and wash clothes. Jim chose two wash clothes and swiftly laced one between the fingers of each of Daniel’s hands, then wrapped each whole hand in a towel. “Get me a knife,” he commanded.

  “Got it,” said a voice behind her, and a police officer stepped forward to hand a kitchen knife to Jim.

  Unfamiliar hands draped her coat over her shoulders, and she glanced back gratefully as she slid her arms into it, and buttoned. Demarco stood there, his eyes on Daniel as Jim slashed a towel into strips and bound the coverings to Daniel’s hands.

  Jim looked up, past her shoulder. “We have to get him warm and to the hospital right away.”

  A young officer she didn’t recognize was already coming towards them with a blanket in his arms. Jim wrapped it around Daniel and, still shirtless himself, picked the younger man up in his arms. He strode toward the door speaking urgently to Demarco.

  “Hospital… Immediately.” Were the only words Sally caught as she ran to the bathroom and jammed her feet into shoes. Grabbing the sweatshirt from the floor, she dodged past Demarco and raced after Jim and the young officer.

  When she emerged from the building, the officer was holding open the back door of a cruiser for Jim, who slid in, with Daniel still cradled in his arms. Sally flew to the other side of the car, and yanked futilely at the door. The officer looked at her and the door opened. She barely managed to climb into the back seat before the cruiser took off, siren blaring. Jim ignored her, staring out the front window at the street ahead as if the force of his will drove the speeding car.

  Perched on the edge of the hard plastic seat, Sally swayed with every turn of the car. The movement swung the cold chain between her breast and she reached up to remove the studded collar, dropping it to the floor of the police car. No one noticed. The officer barked instructions over his radio as they drove, and Jim’s full attention was riveted on the road ahead. Despite the pounding of blood in her veins, and her coat, Sally shivered in her wholly inadequate attire.

  A gurney was waiting when they arrived. In moments, Daniel, still unconscious, was lifted from Jim’s arms and taken indoors. As attendants wheeled him away, Sally moved to stand beside Jim.

  The officer in attendance motioned for them to precede him inside. Only then did Jim look at Sally. She handed him the sweatshirt and watched, with some trepidation, as he pulled it on—his face was still an emotionless mask. Without warning he stepped toward her. She took an involuntary step back, but he swooped her up and marched wordlessly into the nearly empty emergency room with the young officer trailing behind.

  The nurse on duty recognized him. “This way, Dr. Donovan.” She led the two of them to an empty room.

  Jim nodded at Sally. “Her feet are cut. There may be glass in the wounds.” He set her on the nearest bed. At his words, she realized with a start that her feet were bloody and they hurt.

  “We’ll see to it in a minute,” the nurse said and stuck a thermometer in his mouth. She pulled back the curtain in the center of the room. “Dr. Donovan, you get into this bed and cover up.”

  Jim looked about to argue, but the nurse, a small woman with no-nonsense short graying hair, took a hands-on-hips stance universal to mothers of small children and elementary school teachers and glared at him. “Now.”

  Sally glanced at the young officer in the doorway, catching the smile he quickly hid as Jim complied, curling up on his side in the narrow bed.

  As the nurse piled on extra covers, the thermometer beeped. Pulling it from Jim’s mouth and glancing at the read-out, she spoke. “Your core temperature is below normal, and your hands must burn like crazy, but you’re in good shape compared to the other—

  “Smith—Dr. Smith,” Jim supplied. “Take good care of him, Anna. He might be my new partner.”

  “I’ll see to it, Doc. Stay where you are and get warm. We’re going to be busy with Dr. Smith for a while. Then we’ll get to you two.” She turned to the officer in the doorway. “Will you be waiting in here, or would you like a chair in the hall?”

  “Hallway, please,” he replied. “I’ll be looking in on Dr. Smith as well.”

  Nodding, she closed the door behind her.

  Sally looked at Jim. He stared beyond her to the wall, his face set.

  “Jim?” she asked softly.

  His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, but his gaze stayed pinned to the wall. “I’m sorry, Sally,” he said. The words seemed to tear themselves one at a time from his throat. “I underestimated him. There was no sign of him, and I thought he’d gone down to look for you. I broke into the apartment and headed toward Smith. Hunter got the drop on me. He stepped out from the bathroom, smug as a king, with a gun trained on my gut.” His gaze shifted marginally. Away from her. “I thought I’d have a chance to… I didn’t think you’d…” His head pulled back. His face turned even colder, and his voice was fierce. “I shouldn’t have let the gun stop me. I should have taken him out regardless.”

  She stared at him in horror, as his jaw worked. Surely he couldn’t mean…but the self-loathing in his eyes, those eyes that would not meet hers, gave her the answer. Cold lanced her heart. “No. Dear God, Jim—no! If I lost you now, I’d die.” She watched, anguished, as a tear rolled across his cheek.

  He shook his head, tilting his face into the bed, away from her. His eyes were open, staring at the floor. “I let him stop me.” The words ground out of him, each a damning self-condemnation. “Then he had you. It was my fault.” The staring eyes flicked to her, then squeezed shut. “I didn’t stop him. I failed you. He could have—“

  “He didn’t, Jim.” Slipping off the bed, Sally ignored the fresh pain added to the throbbing of her feet and limped across the room to him. She knelt at his bedside, one hand on his head and the other on his shoulder. “He didn’t—you saved my life.”

  His eyes snapped open, cold and hard as stone. He stared through her. “Your life shouldn’t have been in danger. You should never have come in there." He practically spat the words at her. “What were you thinking? What about Tyler?”

  Something inside of Sally snapped. She took her hands away and stood up. “Tyler? This is not about Tyler. Look at me!”

  The anger in her voice seemed to catch him unawares. The frown remained on his forehead, but his jaw dropped loose, and his eyes focused on her face.

  “You’re giving yourself hell because you didn’t get yourself killed protecting me? And I’m not allowed to love you enough to take a risk to protect you?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not gonna work. You saved my life, you macho idiot. I don’t have a problem with that. And I’d have done anything to get you off that balcony. Do you understand me? Anything. If you can’t deal with me loving you that much, feel f
ree to walk off and not come back. It’s all or nothing. I don’t know any other way to love you. Make up your mind.”

  He closed his eyes, trying to take it in. ‘Not about Tyler,’ she’d said. ‘Anything,’ she’d said. He could barely believe what he heard, but he’d seen the proof of it with his own eyes. His failure to protect her pained him, but there was no reprimand in her words… no shadow of blame. It was him that she wanted, not his protection.

  His inborn need to be the defender warred with the need to accept love—love beyond hope. So this was how it felt.

  Everything. It’s got to be everything, or nothing. I love you too much to settle for less… his own unspoken words echoed in his mind. It seemed having everything from Sally included some ramifications he hadn’t anticipated.

  Damn it all, she was one hell of a woman.

  Be careful what you wish for… A wry smile curved his lips as he opened his eyes, looking at her. “I have to admit, being loved that much terrifies me… But I guess I can g-get used to it.” He shifted on the bed and held up the covers for her to slide in. “C-come here, you.”

  She did, coat and all.

  He was beginning to shudder, as the adrenalin-induced high wore off. He felt burning pain in his icy hands, and he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to let them touch her. “Are y-you sure you’re all right?” He searched her face. As the last of the adrenalin wore off, the cold began to take over. The pain in his hands escalated, and he fought to ignore it and to keep his body’s trembling under control. “Did-d he hurt-t you?”

  “I’m fine. Shaken up, but fine.”

  “You w-were am-m-maz-zing, you know.” His whole body shuddered now, there was no way to stop it. “I’ve n-nev-ver been so fr-right-tened in m-my life as w-when he h-h-had y-you, and tha-at g-gun, and I c-couldn’t get t-to you…”

  “Hush. Tell me later. Hold me.”

  He pulled her closer with his forearms, and her warmth radiated toward his body. He ached to touch her, but just having her close was warming him. He would not allow himself to ask for more.