“Quiet. She’s playing this perfectly. Just let her do her thing.”
He was about ready to throw the rear doors open, run the half block to Lisa’s house and barge in firing, when Sloan broke the silence.
“Well, well,” he said. “Looks like you’ve still got the magic, babe. Not that I ever doubted it. But I have to admit I’m a little surprised.”
“Why? It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“That and a whole lot more.”
“Well, that’s what I’m offering,” she said. “Me. The whole package. I’ll even pretend I care about you sometimes.”
Rafe squirmed. Was this part of the script Lisa had planned or was she simply improvising?
“In exchange for what?” Sloan asked.
“Rafe Franco,” she said.
* * *
ANOTHER SLOW SMILE came to Oliver’s face. “Rafe Franco, huh? You want to illuminate me on this little demand?”
She kissed him again, lingering for a moment, mentally holding her nose as she flicked her tongue along his lower lip.
Then she said, “Doesn’t matter what you admit to. I know you framed him.”
“You ever gonna stop singing that tune?”
“You’re a powerful man, Oliver, and you get things done. I don’t care whose arm you have to twist, who you have to bribe, but you’re going to do whatever you have to do to get the charges against him dropped.”
Sloan chuckled. “You’re giving me a lot more credit than I deserve.”
“Really?” she said. “I thought you were the man who owned everything.”
“Well, sure, but...”
Another kiss. This one longer, deeper. Lisa nearly gagged halfway through it.
Then Oliver reached forward and cupped her breast, running his thumb over the fabric, feeling the thin bra beneath, and the nipple beneath that. She felt a momentary stab of panic, worried he might find the microphone, but he wasn’t anywhere close.
No, he was sticking to that one specific spot. She thought she might have to will her body to react, but the friction finally did its job and she grew harder against it.
She could feel his body growing harder as well, his splayed legs now pressed up against her abdomen. She halfway hoped that Rafe had taken his headphones off by now. He may not be getting a visual, but she didn’t want him hearing this and letting his imagination go wild.
“You must really care about this guy,” Oliver said.
“He’s the father of my child. I don’t want him to see her grow up from behind bars.”
“You sure you don’t want more than that?”
“That’s all it can be, if you agree to my terms.”
He kept working that thumb, and it took everything Lisa had not to flinch away from him.
“I wish I could, babe, believe me. But you’ve got me all wrong. I’m no fan of the guy, by any means, but I’m just a real estate developer. I don’t have the kind of juice it takes to set him up or smooth it all out.”
“Come on, Oliver, how stupid do you think I am? I saw those files, remember?”
“You saw some names and numbers,” he said. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”
“So is that why you went to all the trouble of finding it? Of having someone pose as me to get it?”
“I’ll have to plead the fifth on that one.”
She reached forward and ran a hand along the side of his jaw, caressing it. “Are you going to plead the fifth on the man in the BMW, too?”
Sloan frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“He came after us, Oliver. Shot at Rafe. He could have killed me, too. Probably would have, if he hadn’t been hit by a truck. Are you going to tell me you didn’t hire him?”
All of a sudden Sloan’s face got ugly and his forefinger joined his thumb, pinching her nipple between them—hard. Sharp, searing pain shot through Lisa’s breast and she stifled a cry, not wanting Rafe to know what was happening.
She didn’t want him coming in here just yet.
“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, you little slut, but you’re treading on dangerous ground.”
He bore down and the pain was relentless, and in that moment Lisa knew that this attempt at getting Oliver to talk had been an exercise in futility. That the only way she’d ever get this man out of her life was to take a page from his book. A contingency she had planned for when she went upstairs.
Wincing against the pain, she reached forward and shoved her right hand under the sofa cushion. She found what she had hidden there, pulled it free and pointed it directly at Oliver’s forehead.
The gun from the upstairs closet.
Oliver’s face went slack and he immediately released her. “Now wait a second, babe, you want to be very careful with that thing.”
Lisa got to her feet and held the gun with both hands now, keeping it trained on Oliver, who looked as if he were about to pee his pants.
Then she said, “Pink and blue kitty cats.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The words came so suddenly that no one in the van had expected them. A split second after Lisa spoke, she yelped loudly and three gunshots rang out.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Rafe ripped his headphones off and bolted. Flew out of the van as if he had been launched by a catapult, covering the half block to her house in marathon time, his heart pounding, working its way up into his throat.
He heard footsteps behind him and knew Kate and the others were following his lead. A moment later, he crashed through the front door, gun high, expecting to find Lisa on the floor...
But to his surprise, the living room was empty.
What the heck?
“Fan out,” Kate said behind him. “Check every room.”
They moved quickly and efficiently, Rafe keeping his weapon extended as he moved down a hallway dotted with doors. He went room to room, kicking each door open, shouting “Clear!” when he saw that they were empty.
He heard more shouts of “Clear!” coming from other parts of the house, and when he’d checked every room he could find, he headed back to the living room where their cousin Billy was now waiting.
“I got nothing,” Billy said.
“Same here,” Kate told them, as she came down the stairs.
Rafe shook his head in disbelief. “This doesn’t make any sense. Where did they go?”
“In here!” Mike shouted, and they all ran toward the sound of his voice, moving down another short hallway that led into what looked like a study. There was a desk in front of the window and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves full of hardback books.
Mike was standing near the center of the wall, pulling on one of the books. “They’re fake,” he said, then pressed inward on a panel and a section of the bookcase sprang open, revealing a door behind. “It’s an escape route. It was hanging open when I came into the room.”
Rafe was about to step into the hidden passage, when they heard the sound of an engine roaring.
The Lexus.
Sloan’s Lexus.
Turning, Rafe rocketed out of the room and headed toward the sound, crossing the living room to the foyer in seconds flat. He burst onto the front driveway with his weapon raised, only to see the Lexus roaring onto the street, burning rubber as it went.
He ran for all he was worth, trying to catch up to it, but by the time he reached the bottom of the driveway it was halfway down the street.
Rafe pointed his gun at it, but he knew that taking a shot would be foolish. A tiny miscalculation and Lisa could get hurt—because Rafe knew damn well she was inside.
Kate and the others drew up beside him as the Lexus screamed around a corner and disappeared into the night.
Then he turned to his big sister and said angrily, “No time to deal with protocol, huh? How’s that working for you now?”
* * *
LISA AWAKENED with a start, her head pounding, and realized they were in Oliver’s Lexus.
And they were moving. Fast.
The pain was excruciating and she struggled to breathe. When he loosened his grip, she sucked big gasps of air, feeling as if she couldn’t get enough.
She felt dizzy, her head still pounding, and it took her a moment to remember what had happened.
The gun. She had pulled the gun on Oliver. Because she’d known that was the only way. The only way that she and Chloe—and Rafe—would be rid of him.
It was an irrational move—she knew that now—but her fear had gotten the better of her. If she hadn’t hesitated, if she hadn’t taken just a split second to consider the weight of what she was doing, Oliver would be dead now. There was no doubt in her mind.
But she had hesitated. Pointing a gun at someone—someone you despise—is one thing. But pulling the trigger is another thing altogether, and in that hesitation, Oliver had seen an opening and pounced. Sprang from the sofa and tackled her. The gun was knocked upward and she had involuntarily fired off three shots.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Then her head had hit something solid—the edge of the coffee table?—and the blow had sent her reeling, spinning away into darkness.
Now here she was in Oliver’s car, struggling to breathe, her neck raw where he had grabbed her, and all she could think to say was, “Pink and blue kitty cats. Pink and blue kitty cats. Pink and blue kitty—”
“What’s wrong with you?” Oliver barked as they barreled down a city street at top speed. “Why do you keep...”
He stopped himself, his face shifting expressions as if he suddenly understood.
“The cops,” he said, his eyes going cold. “That’s a code phrase. You’ve been working with the cops.”
Then, without warning, he reached a hand out—the same hand that had grabbed her throat—and shoved it up inside her sweater, groping around until he found the transmitter taped to the small of her back.
“You little...”
Grabbing hold of it, he ripped it free, then rolled down his window and tossed it into the street. Shooting her a warning look, he reached into his pocket for a cell phone and hit speed dial.
When the line came alive, he said, “I’ve got myself a situation that I need you to take care of. Tell those new guys you hired that they’re about to earn their keep.”
Then he snapped the phone shut and hit the gas.
* * *
RAFE WAS BESIDE HIMSELF, couldn’t stand still. He paced Lisa’s living room like an expectant father worried about bad news.
They had searched for signs of blood, but found none, and could only assume that the gunshots had gone wild. That Lisa had not been hurt.
A least Rafe hoped so.
Prayed for it.
But that didn’t change the fact that Lisa was gone.
“He’s got her, Kate. You know he’s got her. The question is where is he taking her?”
Kate was still studying the carpet. “Maybe he doesn’t even know,” she said. “I’ve put out an APB on the Lexus and sent some deputies to his hotel. But somehow I have a feeling that’s the last place he’ll go. Especially if he’s on to us.”
“If he wasn’t before,” Rafe said, “he will be as soon as he discovers that wire. Then all bets are off. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let you do this.”
“Look, Rafe, I’m sorry, but there’s always a risk with this kind of—”
“Risk?” he shouted. “We’re talking about the woman I love, Kate, not some confidential informant you’ve been cultivating for years. This is an unmitigated disaster. And if anything happens to her, I’m holding you responsible.”
Kate got to her feet. “Nothing’s going to happen, little brother. I promise you.”
“Oh? Another promise you can’t keep?”
“Maybe we’re overthinking this. Maybe she got hurt in the struggle and he’s taking her to the hospital.”
Rafe stared at her. “You can’t be serious. The guy’s a narcissistic sociopath.”
“I’m just trying to think of all the possibilities, okay? I’m doing the best I can here. So will you please stop pacing and sit down?”
Rafe stared at her a long moment, then moved to sofa and sat. “You happy now?”
He buried his head in his hands. Why had he given in to this nonsense so easily? Why had he allowed Lisa to do something so foolish? If anything happened to her, if Sloan were to hurt her in any way, he’d never forgive himself.
He looked at his sister again. “We need to figure out where he’s taking her, Kate. The longer she’s with him, the better the chance he’ll...”
Rafe stopped suddenly, saw something from the corner of his eye. Getting to his feet, he moved to the end table at the far end of the couch and found a framed photograph there, the glass broken.
“What is it?” Kate asked.
Rafe picked up the photo. It was one he had seen before, the shot of Lisa and Chloe standing in front of a house on a lake.
Carlyle Lake.
It’s the only time in our marriage that we were actually happy, Lisa had said.
Kate moved toward him. “Rafe? What is it?”
He turned now and showed her the photograph.
“I think I know where he’s taking her.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was a family operation.
Following protocol meant mobilizing an entire division, and with that came endless questions and wasted time spent debating whether or not the taxpayers should be paying for the search and rescue of someone who might not even be missing. Especially when that search and rescue required crossing state lines.
Considering that this problem had been caused by an unauthorized operation, the prudent decision was to handle the matter in-house—or in-family, so to speak—rather than put the brass in a bind should things go wrong. So Rafe, Kate, Billy and Mike were joined by Billy’s brother, Mario, and Rafe and Kate’s older brother, Vincent.
They convened in Lisa’s living room, where Mario—who headed a cybercrime task force for the FBI—used a backdoor channel to hack into Oliver Sloan’s real estate records.
“So what am I looking for?” he asked.
Rafe said, “Any properties he may own in Carlyle, Illinois.”
Mario spent the next several minutes stabbing keys on his laptop keyboard, then said, “Got something. Looks like an acre of land right off the lakefront.”
“That’s the one,” Kate told him, then looked at Rafe. “If you’re right about this, looks like we’re back in business.”
* * *
CALLING IT A LAKE HOUSE was something of a misnomer. According to the blueprints Mario downloaded, it was more of a compound than a house, and judging by the way Sloan had protected himself at the hotel, Rafe figured there would be plenty of security there.
Rather than go in guns blazing, and risk hurting Lisa in the process, they decided on a stealth assault, using the darkness to shield them. The trick was to get inside undetected and extract Lisa from the premises.
“We’ll want to go for maximum coverage,” Vincent said. He was the oldest of the clan and took charge immediately. His job as a squad commander required him to make a dozen different decisions every day. “With six of us working in pairs, we can come in from three different entry points.” He pointed to the blueprint. “Here, here and here.”
“What about security?” Rafe asked.
“It’s my understanding that this clown Sloan is known for using over-the-hill mercenaries. But we shouldn’t be overconfident. Some of these guys are very good at what they do.”
“Do we use deadly force?” Billy asked.
“Only if necessary. There’s no question they’ll be ordered to shoot to kill, but let’s do our best to neutralize them quietly. That leaves fewer questions to answer later on. So we’re talking maximum efficiency, minimum violence.”
Go
od luck with that one, Rafe thought. Once Sloan got wind of them, all bets were off.
“All right,” Vincent said, pointing again to the blueprint. “Kate, you partner with Rafe and take the west flank. Billy and Mike you come in here, from the north. Covering the lakefront requires a boat, so we’ll forgo that potential snafu and Mario and I will enter from the south flank.” He looked at them. “Assuming she’s in there, this should be over in a few short minutes.”
“What about Sloan?” Kate said. “How do we handle him?”
Rafe’s face hardened. “Just leave him to me.”
* * *
HE PUT HER IN their old bedroom at the back of the main house. It had been a good year or so since Lisa had been here, and despite what their marriage had become, her memories of the place were fond ones.
Most of the time they’d spent here had been in the early days, shortly after they’d said their vows and Lisa still believed she had married a good man who wanted only to protect her and the child she would soon give birth to.
But that man had long since disappeared, only to be replaced by the creature who had brought her here, for reasons known only to him.
Was this his safe haven? His protection from the outside world and the people who were looking for her?
Or did he hope to recapture something here? Somehow find what they had lost so long ago?
It seemed to Lisa that Oliver had lost so much more than a marriage. In these past few hours, she realized that he had also lost his mind. He hid it well with his charm and his good looks and his easy smile, but beneath that exterior was a monster whose only desire was to make her bend to his will.
It would almost be comic, if she weren’t a victim of it. But she now had bruises on her throat and a sore, aching breast that proved what Oliver was capable of when provoked.
And it didn’t seem to take much to provoke him.
Just before he locked her in the room, he had thrown one of her old negligees at her feet and told her to put it on.
“I’ve got plans for us tonight, babe. A little stroll down memory lane.”
The thought filled Lisa with revulsion. And when he was gone, she stared at the negligee and told herself that no matter what Oliver did, no matter how much he hurt her, she would never bend, never break, never give him the satisfaction of letting him touch her that way again.
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