Vortex (Cutter Cay)

by Cherry Adair

  The metal box was too heavy and too bulky to lift. Inside were brushes and pots of cosmetics. The only thing useful was the airbrush battery pack. But it was too far away.

  The door slammed open. Daniela pushed the phone deep between the cushion and upholstered arm of the chair as she forced her breathing to even out.

  “… a fact! All I said was maybe that was going to happen.”

  “He promised I could have her.” Mack said petulantly, his footsteps heavy as he crossed the room. The bedsprings creaked as he sat down.

  “Jesus, you dickhead! Don’t sit on her clothes, I spent an hour ironing everything just the way the senator likes them.”

  They were so busy arguing they didn’t hear the door opening. Or notice the soda and phone were gone.

  So far.

  Daniela smelled Victor’s distinct cologne from across the room, and figured they wouldn’t notice anything amiss with him present. She hoped.

  “We’ll take it up with the senator. I just repeated what I thought I heard—Hello, Senator. We’re just about to get her all dressed and pretty for you.”

  “She looks like a whore! Lose the red lipstick.”

  Mena instantly started wiping her mouth with a damp makeup remover cloth. “Better. The light lipstick. Nude palettes are what’s in this season.”

  “I thought you were sending up someone to get h—”

  “I want to be seen walking through the hotel with her,” he said, clearly annoyed by the question. “Has she said anything?”

  “No. She hasn’t woken up yet. She’s still out of it.”

  Victor grabbed Daniela by the wrist, lifted her arm, and let it fall. She hadn’t been startled by his touch because she always expected to be roughed up when Victor was anywhere near her. “Get the doctor back in here.” His rage climbed several notches. He stormed across the room, came back to the chair. “Now!”

  She waited for him to hit her. He didn’t. But he would. It was just a matter of time.

  She heard Mack on the hotel phone. “The senator wants you in her room. Now.”

  “Tell him to bring an antidote. Something to wake her the fuck up.”

  Mack repeated the order. The phone clattered. “He’s on his way, boss.”

  Daniela reminded herself that Victor didn’t want her drugged again. He wanting her mobile. Thank God.

  She had a phone. Not a weapon, but at least contact with the outside world. If she ever had the opportunity to use it.

  Mena pulled her still damp T-shirt over her head, and bent Daniela over like a rag doll to unfasten her bra. “If you hand me the bra over there, I’ll get that—”

  Mena was going to strip her in front of Mack and Victor and there wasn’t a damn thing Daniela could do about it, so she blocked out the activities and Mena’s grunts. It was apparently completely impossible to dress a deadweight. Aw, wasn’t that a shame?

  Mena was doing up the zipper down her back when the door opened. The sheath dress was rucked up her bare thighs until she stood up. Mack was probably leering at her legs and the view of her exposed underwear.

  “Wake her up.” Victor told whoever had just walked in, his voice cold and clipped. “You have five minutes to get her moving. Do it.”

  “She shouldn’t have been out this long. Did you feed her befor—”

  “Just goddamn give her whatever, so I can get the show on the road! I’ve got thirty minutes to airtime, and fifteen to get her downstairs.”

  Cold hands straightened her arm.

  Eighteen

  Damn it to hell. “They’re taking her down early,” Logan observed tightly, speaking quietly into the lip mic supplied by Wright.

  He fingered the hotel room door open another quarter of an inch, observing Daniela and Stamps’s entourage as they came toward him. Stamps had one arm around her waist, his hand splayed possessively on her hip. He was practically supporting her entire weight down the carpeted hallway, headed to the elevators and the room where Logan was situated.

  What the hell had they done to her? Her gorgeous dark hair had been dyed a pale blond. She looked like a different woman. She tripped on her high heels, her ankle twisting until her foot nearly rolled beneath her. Logan winced but bit his tongue. Jesus, that had to hurt, but she didn’t make a peep.

  Something was wrong. Daniela was either too terrified to make a sound or had been drugged to the gills. Either one fucking pissed him off. Stamps tightened his hold, saying something close to her face that made her stiffen. Logan’s finger tightened on the butt of the gun in the small of his back.

  “Easy, Cutter. Easy.” Wright said in his ear.

  Logan’s hand gripped the doorjamb. She was surrounded by a phalanx of armed men just like those he’d encountered on the Sea Wolf. They were heavyweight security. In such a confined space, it would be impossible to grab Daniela without the possibility of her getting hurt … or, if Stamps was in the mood, killed.

  He knew he had to be patient a few minutes more, but seeing her in such terror, being so close and yet unable to swoop in and grab her away from Stamps, made his blood run cold.

  Two middle-aged couples exited the elevator, chatting as they approached the large group. Stamps bent to whisper something else against Daniela’s glossy hair. She nodded. Don’t talk to them, he guessed, because she didn’t even make eye contact as the couples squeezed past the men all dressed in dark business suits. No one who didn’t have cataracts would ever think these were businessmen. It was obvious they were all carrying, and their muscles made them look like caricatures of bodyguards. The couples hurried by, all tittering whispers and stolen looks. Victor gave them a slight smile and nod of his head. The two women’s eyes widened.

  She was only five feet away now, her expression distant, eyes slightly unfocused. Drugs. Rage surged through him anew.

  He’d never seen her in a dress and heels. She looked stunning, elegant, and as lifeless as a doll. The cream-colored dress fit her curves like a glove, and the butter-soft black leather jacket looked both timeless and hip. Gold glinted at her ears and a diamond flashed on her finger. Her right hand was firmly tucked in her pocket, her body language clear. Anything to have a barrier between herself and the senator.

  I’m right here, sweetheart. Logan willed her to feel his presence just feet away.

  Wright’s men were in various rooms on either side of the hallway on the way to the elevator. Every exit was being monitored, every floor, every stairwell, the elevator. The rest of his men were covering the ballroom on the mezzanine floor, where the press had been gathering for the last hour.

  Two of Wright’s men had been riding the elevator for the last twenty minutes. There was nowhere now that Daniela could go that Wright’s men wouldn’t be with her. After what had transpired on the Sea Wolf, Logan was supposed to be satisfied with that? He wasn’t. Not by a long shot. He wanted her back on Sea Wolf. In his cabin. In his bed. In his arms.

  He just had to be patient.

  Something he’d always excelled at and never considered a trial. Until now.

  He’d failed her. Again. The knowledge was bitter on his tongue and agony in his heart.

  The group waited for the elevator. The door opened, giving Logan a glimpse of two men inside. Wright’s men. Daniela stepped into the car, the doors slid closed. Wrenching open the hotel room door, Logan raced toward the salida sign and the stairs, Wright and his men close on his heels.

  They hauled ass, seven flights at a dead run.

  * * *

  Whatever the second shot was, it had done the opposite of making her flat and floppy. Now Daniela was wired for sound, and ready to rumba. Neither boded well for her continued good health.

  She, Victor, Mena, Mack, and four of Victor’s bodyguards were in a room behind the ballroom, waiting for Patti Reed, Victor’s longtime publicist.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” Daniela told Victor listlessly as he made a circuit around the small space. Energy radiated from him as he held her by his side as i
f she might bolt. He was a psychopathic asshole, not stupid. By the way his lips were twitching and the focused look in his eyes, she knew he was rehearsing his speech silently to himself. He hated being interrupted when he was concentrating. Too bad.

  He turned his head and gave her a look vicious enough to make her take a step back. “You can wait fifteen minutes.”

  If he had his way, she’d be dead in less than that. “I honestly can’t.” Acting lethargic and still partially drugged wasn’t easy when her blood was racing, and she now wanted to do freaking jumping jacks. “I’m going to pee my pants any minute. Seriously. How long was I out, four maybe five hours?”

  Victor gripped her upper arm, his fingers painfully tight as he propelled her a short distance from the others. “If you do anything to ruin this day for me, I’ll kill you slowly, painfully. You got that? Anything that makes anyone take a second look at you will get you killed. Mena! Mack! Get over here.” He shoved Daniela at Mack, who grabbed her breast in passing. She stepped on his instep with her stiletto.

  “Take her to the john. Both of you go in with her. Three minutes. Don’t fuck up. Go!” He turned to his bodyguards. “Wait outside for her.”

  Daniela was frog-marched to the bathroom across the hall. It was empty. Victor’s men stood outside while she, Mena, and Mack went in.

  “Be quick,” Mena told her.

  “I’ll speed pee,” Daniela assured her sweetly, closing the door in the other woman’s face. She did have to go—and badly. But more importantly, she took Mack’s phone out of her pocket. She deserved an Oscar for her performance in the room, because getting the phone from between the cushions and into her jacket pocket unseen had been a major production. She set everything up to record, then put the phone back in her pocket. All she needed to do was press the right button.

  She finished and flushed, and went out to wash her hands.

  Mena scowled at her. “Here, fix your lipstick yourself.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” she said, not too sarcastically, taking the tube from the stylist and opening it as she leaned over the sink to apply it in the mirror.

  The diamond ring on her left hand sparkled in the lights over the sinks. She’d never seen it before. It was a suitable size for a wealthy man to give his beloved. But not so big and ostentatious that people would frown.

  “It’s not for you. It’s for the senator.”

  Daniela met her own eyes in the mirror. God. She looked as she’d done before she’d run for her life. Honey-blond hair sweeping her shoulders, eyes smoky, lips creamy beige. Nails pink. As ordered by Victor. The dress and jacket were her own. Items he’d taken from her condo. The knowledge that he’d felt free to invade her personal space when she was gone infuriated her, until she remembered who she was dealing with. Taking a few of her clothes was the least of his infractions. She kept her expression bland. “Of course. It always is.”

  “Let’s go!” Mack snarled, hand on the partially open door.

  They walked quickly across the empty hallway and back into the anteroom of the ballroom. Whatever the doctor had shot her up with made her feel a little giddy and almost euphoric. Daniela reminded herself that she had to get a grip, and focus. She’d only have one chance to get this right.

  Victor was pacing, Patti by his side. The publicist was a stunningly beautiful black woman with mahogany skin and a centerfold body that was squeezed into a fire-engine-red power suit with a short skirt. She’d apparently forgotten to put a blouse on under the jacket. Patti had always looked like an expensive call girl. But she’d once been an entertainment attorney, and had worked for Victor for ten years.

  The two were lovers, and Daniela had seen Miss Reed bare-assed naked and being held under the water in Victor’s bathtub several times. She was adept at holding her breath with those large … lungs.

  “Daniela,” the other woman said coldly. “You’ve caused the senator a great deal of trouble and expense.”

  Daniela casually stuck her hand in her pocket and gave the woman a withering look that clearly had no impact. “So I heard.”

  “I’ll go over what we want the press to know. You’re a clever girl, I’m sure you’ll deliver the short statement, and let Victor do the talking.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Don’t what, for fuck sake?” Victor spat, eyes narrowed like the snake he was. He shoved his glasses impatiently up the bridge of his aristocratic nose.

  “Don’t want to lie? What if I stand up there and tell them that you were bringing drugs in from South America, and using Blue Opal as a distribution center?”

  Fury erupted behind his eyes and his fist jerked up, up ready to strike. She drew in a sharp breath, raising her hands defensively and stepping back before he hit her.

  “Don’t hit her now!” Patti snapped, grabbing Victor’s wrist.

  “How about I let them know that you ordered thugs to kill DEA Special Agent Price, and his wife, and their three lovely children? Bet they’d love to run with that ball.”

  “I’ve already had it leaked to the press that you’re mentally unstable. Who do you think they’ll believe? A woman taking antipsychotics and antidepressants? Or a well-respected senator?”

  “You’ve got a point there. Wow. Antipsychotics and antidepressants. You are thorough. Clearly I’m a mess.” Daniela shoved both hands in her pockets.

  “How about I tell them how much you like to play in the water?” she taunted. “You and Miss Reed here with her personal flotation devices. Hard to drown her, I imagine. Have so much fun taking near-death experience to a whole other level. Holding someone’s head underwater is called—what was it again? Oh, yeah. Autoerotic asphyxiation. A dangerous, nasty little game you so enjoy. Wouldn’t your voters love to know that you hire prostitutes to play with the two of you?” She took her hands out of her pockets and hooked her thumbs in them instead.

  “Nobody gives a rat’s ass what I do when I’m not doing my job. And I do my job well.”

  “Drug reform. Importing heroin?” Daniela weighed each choice on her hands. “I bet they’ll be interested in the drugs. Oh, and that you put the money from that last fund-raiser straight into your pocket earmarked swimming lessons?”

  “I’ll drug you again,” Victor said coldly.

  “Well, you could,” Daniela mused. “But won’t it be hard for that sniper you hired—What’s his name again, Mena? Harry Smith? Nah. I don’t think that’s his real name. So awkward to shoot me when I’m lying down somewhere unconscious. I suppose it could be done. But not with nearly as much flair as if I was standing meekly by your side acting the doting fiancée. Thanks for the ring by the way. Is it real?”

  Light glinted on his glasses, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know his expression. “How the fuck do you know about Smith?”

  Patti slid her red-tipped fingers up his arm. “Shut up, Victor. You’re just incriminating yourself, and confirming—”

  He turned on Patti and practically grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket. Not that there was very much of it. He dropped his hands, but his face was flushed, his mouth twisted with fury. “Don’t tell me to shut the fuck up. Remember who signs your paycheck.”

  “You have to go out there now. What are you going to do?” Patti’s attractive face looked quite homely when she was pissed and scared. Poor Patti.

  Daniela flinched as he spun around to grab her arm in the vise of his fingers. “Let me tell you exactly how this is going to play out. We’ll walk in there together, hand in hand. I’ll tell everyone how my people searched the globe for you, and discovered you’d been kidnapped and held hostage on a boat called the Sea Wolf, where you were terribly abused. I’ll discreetly not go into detail. You’ll have ninety seconds to tell everyone how grateful you are that I found you. That we’re planning a June wedding because we can’t stand to be apart. You’ll tell them how much you love me, an—”

  “No.”

  Victor backhanded her, sending Daniela stumbling into Patti, w
ho jumped out of the way. “No?”

  “It’s a complete sentence.” Daniela righted herself, straightening her jacket. “I’m not going to lie to the press to save your criminal, unpleasant ass. What are you going to do about it, kill me? You already plan to anyway. You see, I don’t have anything to lose, Victor. So I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand there calmly while a sniper is lining up his shot as I bullshit everyone, so that I die in your arms and you look like a hero. I won’t do it.”

  Patti’s hands fluttered as she leaned in, brushing her breast against Victor. “Victor, we have to go out there, we’re already late—”

  He glared at the publicist. “I didn’t tell you to speak. Shut the fuck up.” He turned back to Daniela. “Nothing left to lose?” The sneering smile he gave her had never been seen by the media, she was damn sure. But she’d seen it often, and knew what it foreshadowed.

  Her blood ran cold.

  “I have your parents at my Back Bay house. If I don’t call to assure their keepers that everything is going according to plan here, they have instructions to torture and kill them. They’ll waterboard your father first—he’s almost seventy, isn’t he? Your mother might enjoy a little autoerotic asphyxiation.”

  Daniela hadn’t known her capacity for hating someone until she’d met Victor, and never more than at this moment. “Nice try. Right now they’re visiting Mykonos.”

  Patti gave him a pleading look. “Victor—this is all going to fall apart if we don’t go out there right now!”

  He stuck his hand into his breast pocket and withdrew his phone. “Call the house and speak to your mother.”

  Daniela’s fingers were cold as she took the phone and hit the speed dial for Victor’s Boston home. The phone was picked up on the second ring.