CHANCES ARE (Last Chance Rescue)

by Reece, Christy

  Three days ago, roses in hand, he had arrived at her apartment building in London, ready to begin their courtship. What he observed was his Dark Angel leaving with one of the mammoth men who had rescued her from the over-amorous drunk at Club Drago. The same man he had seen her shopping with the day before. Their car was packed with luggage. He had followed them to the train station and watched, devastated, as she and the man boarded a train for Paris. Only by sheer will had he not returned to his home and destroyed everything.

  Fortunately, good reason had prevailed. He had returned to the toy store where she had purchased an electric train set and dollhouse the day before. He’d been preoccupied, so careful to hide in the shadows from her behemoth male companion, that he had paid little note when she’d asked that the gifts be delivered to Paris.

  It had taken little effort to obtain her name and address. After subduing the store clerk and tying him up, in minutes he had accessed the paid accounts. His Dark Angel’s name was Angela Delvecchio. Then came the realization of her gift to him. Because of their phenomenal connection, she was already making his life easier without his even asking. She had known he needed to leave London and was simply leading him to a new home.

  The most time-consuming aspect had been making a major move in such a short amount of time. Used to traveling with large quantities of wardrobe changes, hiding a young woman in a secret compartment was child’s play. No one paid attention to an elderly man struggling with giant trunks other than offers of assistance. He loved that there were still polite people in the world. Courtesy often seemed to be a lost art.

  Now he had the blonde woman with him and would soon introduce her to his new companion. He didn’t question why he had to take his Dark Angel now, at this very moment. It was a compulsion and he’d learned over the years never to deny his needs. When he was younger, he had warred with himself over satisfying his desires. He had been content because he’d had all he needed. Then when he had lost everything, the door to those long-suppressed desires became unchained. The needs that had been simmering for years were unfettered, set free from their bonds. This was his calling. Since coming to that realization, he had taken what he wanted and was a happier man for it.

  The reward for his hard work was almost at hand. He had found a place in Reims, about four hours outside Paris. The mansion was old but well preserved, the atmosphere perfect for his needs. Everything was coming together as if destiny had taken over.

  And now for the plat de résistance.

  He approached her quietly. “Pardon moi,” he said meekly, friendly.

  His Dark Angel turned; eyes the color of decadent, dark chocolate widened with surprise. Oh yes…she was even more exquisite up close. Any remaining doubts that this was ‘the one’ disappeared.

  Holding her hand to her chest, she gasped. “Oh, you startled me. I had no idea anyone was around.”

  He was pleased that she spoke English. His knowledge of French was modest at best. Not being able to communicate his needs would have hindered their relationship. And her voice…it was even better than he could have anticipated. Rich, cultured, with a husky timbre. It would take almost no effort to train her.

  His smile timid, he said, “I do apologize. I just moved in two doors down and can’t get my phone to work. Do you have a cellphone I could use to call the telephone company?”

  “Of course.” Her head bent, she rummaged around in her purse. “I know it’s here somewhere.”

  She was wearing the perfect apparel for what he needed. Her jacket, though modest, covered a beautiful low-necked blouse and gave him access to the smooth, creamy area between her neck and shoulder. He struck swiftly, jabbing the hypodermic needle deep into the muscle.

  She yelped and jumped back. “What did you…?” In seconds, her eyes glazed and she stumbled backward, away from him.

  He reached for her, expecting a brief, futile struggle as the drug took hold. Designed to disorient but not cause unconsciousness, his Dark Angel would be pliable and open to his suggestions within a couple of minutes. To his dismay she put up no struggle at all. Her arms went limp and her purse and grocery bag fell to the floor.

  In the voice many had called beautiful and mesmerizing, he commanded, “Come with me,” and held out his hand. Once more, his Dark Angel proved that she was meant to be with him as, like magic, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her down the hallway and to the stairwell.

  Anyone who saw them would believe they were a couple in love, going out for a stroll. Someday that’s how it would be. Someday very soon, she would no longer need the drugs. She would be his and he would be hers.

  Opening the back of the van, he helped her inside and then uncovered the flooring where the blonde woman lay in her trunk. He felt his Dark Angel stiffen. “Don’t worry, my love. This is just a temporary home for you.”

  He pushed her to her knees. She went willingly, just as he knew she would. Since the hiding space was small, he quickly removed her jacket along with any superfluous apparel. Shoving her forward, she fell on top of the blonde woman, who screeched at the intrusion. The sounds muffled by the tape covering her mouth.

  He replaced the lid and then the flooring, covering the two very different looking but equally important women. One would be the culmination of his recent work and the other would be his salvation.

  With every ounce of her strength, Angela fought to cling to reality while whatever drug he had injected her with worked just as hard to distort her thinking. As soon as he’d plunged the needle into her, she had begun reciting three things in her mind, repeatedly: My name is Angela Delvecchio. I work for Last Chance Rescue. LCR is tracking me—I am not alone.

  If she had any chance of success, maintaining hold of this information was imperative.

  Though what she wanted most to do was just drift in this euphoric wonderland the drug had created, she forced her mind to focus on tangibles. Someone was beneath her, wiggling. The compartment was filled with an impenetrable darkness and almost no additional space to move, but she managed to shift slightly, giving the woman beneath her an opportunity to breath. Smothering the victim she was supposed to rescue was probably against LCR regulations.

  Rescue? Yes, she was here on a rescue mission. She had been drugged and the woman beneath her had been abducted. It was up to Angela and Jake to save her.

  Jake. She focused on him, pictured his face, imagined his voice. Remembered his wonderful strength. He was her partner, her friend…her lover. She was not alone.

  The body beneath her made muffled noises and it took several seconds of wondering before Angela figured out that the woman’s mouth was covered with something. Lifting a lethargic, uncooperative arm, Angela raised her hand to where the noise was located and felt something—tape. Tugging and pulling, she managed to uncover half of her mouth.

  Of all the things she expected the woman to say, it wasn’t, “Oh please, get your knee out of my stomach.”

  “Sorry,” Angela mumbled.

  Focusing with all her might, she told her leg to shift and figured she had been successful when the woman blew out a relieved sigh, which turned into a rush of words. “My name is Clarissa Eaton. Who are you? Why has he taken us? What’s he going to do? Who is he? Why did—”

  “Hold on.” Angela swallowed. The drug clawed at her mind, pulling her deeper and deeper into a sluggish daze. Her tongue thick and dry, she swallowed again and said slowly, thickly, “My name is Angela. I work for…” Ah, dammit, who did she work for? Squeezing her eyes tight, she said, “I work for a company…we’ll help you.”

  “A company? What do you mean?”

  Shit. She had to get her focus back. Biting her lip till she tasted blood, the pain jerked her into reality once more. “My name is Angela Delvecchio. I work for Last Chance Rescue. We’re not alone.”

  There, she’d said it. For some reason, the woman stayed frozen. Why wasn’t she reassured by her declaration?

  Angela tried again. “Jake, my lover.” She shook h
er head. “I mean my partner…is tracking us.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is your lover tracking you?”

  With all of her faculties in tact, explaining her complicated relationship with Jake would be difficult. Drugged and jammed into a compartment barely large enough for one person, much less two, Angela knew a lucid, succinct response was impossible. She settled for “Forget the other stuff. Bottom-line, help is on the way.”

  “Who is this man that’s taken us? Do you know?”

  “Don’t know his name. He’s been killing women in London.”

  “What?” Clarissa screeched.

  “Shh. Keep your voice down.” Being blunt was probably a side effect of the drug. Any other time, Angela was almost sure she would have broken the news that they had been abducted by a serial killer in a more tactful way.

  Soft sobs of despair came from Clarissa.

  Grinding her teeth together to keep from falling into a drugged abyss, Angela said carefully, slowly, “We will escape. Promise. Keep calm. K?”

  “Yes…all right.”

  “Can you tell me where you’ve been…what’s happened since he took you?”

  “Some things are hazy. I remember a policeman came to my house and told me an emergency call had come from my residence. I had my television up too loud and I went to turn it off so I could explain that the call hadn’t come from me. I turned around and there he was, behind me. I don’t remember much after that…he must have drugged me.

  “When I came to, I was lying on some kind of table. He removed my clothes. He kept saying the reason he took me would soon be revealed. Since then, I think he’s transported me to various places. I remember the sound of an engine and the feeling of movement beneath me.”

  “What about water…food? Has he allowed you either?”

  “A little water, almost no food. He’s taken me to the bathroom twice a day and holds me while I go.”

  She whispered the last sentence as though embarrassed.

  “His shame…not yours.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “My hands and legs are free. He lets us out…I’ll take care of him. Stay out of the way.”

  “All right,” Clarissa whispered. “Thank you.”

  Angela spoke with more confidence than she felt. Whatever the maniac had given her continued to play havoc with her thinking. And just from the small movements she’d managed to make inside the compartment, she doubted that her limbs would be cooperative when he released them from the box. Yet she had no choice, Clarissa was counting on her.

  Without warning, the drug slammed through her with the force of an avalanche and she plunged into another world. Reality ceased to exist. Time stopped. Dramatic but realistic hallucinations took control as one by one, her entire family came for a visit. They sat down and chatted with her. Simple, innocuous conversations but so unbelievably, wonderfully real.

  A continuous, softly spoken voice in her head told her it wasn’t real but she pushed it aside as she drifted in a euphoric, comforting haze, chatting with the loved ones she missed so much.

  Minutes or hours later, she opened her eyes to see her mother across from her again. A small part of her mind whispered that the conversation wasn’t possible, but it felt so wonderful and natural, she went with the delusion.

  No, no. She had to stop. Something was wrong. Gathering up enough comprehension to remember she was in trouble, she asked, “What should I do, Mama?”

  Her mother gave a gentle, teasing smile and opened her mouth. Angela tensed, ready for whatever assistance her mother could offer. What followed was a recitation of an old family recipe for corn chowder.

  Not exactly helpful information when trying to escape from a serial killer.

  Jake stood at the door of Angela’s apartment and stared down at the evidence of her abduction. A bag of groceries lay spilled on the floor. Her purse, cellphone and earbud were scattered around, close to the bag. McCall should be here any minute with additional operatives. As soon as they arrived, the trace would begin.

  Only a couple of minutes after hearing Angela’s abduction, Jake had been able to maneuver his way around the semi-trucks and get off on the shoulder of the road. Driving like a madman, he had broken a half dozen traffic laws in the vain hope that he could reach Angela’s apartment complex before she disappeared with her abductor. The whole time he had known it was too late but he’d prayed for all he was worth that he was wrong. Unfortunately he had been right.

  Did the bastard plan to travel back to London with her? Had he already disposed of Clarissa Eaton’s body? If so, Angela’s abduction would be for nothing.

  He shoved his fingers through his hair. What the hell was he going to do if something happened to her? He shouldn’t have agreed to let her carry out the op. He should have demanded she take the monster down. What if he never saw her alive again? Was he, once again, going to be responsible for getting someone he cared about killed? Hell, did he have some kind of black cloud hanging over his head?

  Jake jerked himself out of the useless blame game. Having played that game hundreds of times before, he knew it accomplished nothing. He needed to focus on the positives. Angela was stronger than she gave herself credit for. She could take this bastard out if need be. And they were going to trace her whereabouts. They would find her and everything would be okay. He had to believe that.

  The cellphone in his hand rang and in an instant, Jake answered, “Mallory.”

  “I’m three minutes from her flat,” McCall said. “Meet me out front.”

  He grabbed Angela’s belongings and turned away. Running down the hallway, he was in the lobby and on the sidewalk in less than a minute. A black SUV pulled to the curb and McCall got out. “You drive…I’ll track her.”

  Sliding in behind the steering wheel, Jake took off the second the other man got into the passenger side.

  “Head to the A4,” McCall said. “She’s about twenty minutes ahead of us.”

  As he weaved in and out of the heavy evening traffic, Jake did his best not to think about what Angela was going through. If he allowed himself to go down that path, he wouldn’t be able to function. She was counting on him and he’d damn well not let her down.

  Grim and silent, McCall sat beside him and stared at the laptop screen. Three other operatives followed in another SUV. Between the five of them, no way was this bastard going to get away.

  Was she drugged and unconscious or awake and aware? Having seen her fear up close and personal, he could only imagine how terrified she must be.

  Dammit, he should have seen this coming. Just because they had quit the op didn’t mean the killer had.

  Without looking up from the screen, McCall said gruffly, “Stop beating yourself up. The man’s acting completely against type. No one could have predicted he would follow her to Paris. How the hell did he even know her address?”

  Jake’s mind searched for the oddity and then closed his eyes briefly. “The presents.”

  “What presents?”

  “The day before we returned to Paris, Angela and I went shopping. She found gifts for your kids and asked for them to be shipped to her apartment in Paris. He must’ve been in the store and overheard.”

  “Shit,” McCall said softly.

  Bile surged up his throat. Instead of watching for the killer, he’d been concentrating on Angela, wanting to make her feel better…see her laugh again. And now he didn’t know if he’d ever see her alive again. “Dammit, I should have been watching her back.”

  “Before we were married, Mara was taken right before my eyes. I was there to protect her and ended up almost getting her killed.”

  The expression on the man’s face kept Jake from asking for details. Whatever had happened, it still haunted him.

  “Thing is, no matter how prepared you think you are, shit happens. Angela has been trained to handle the unexpected, just like any operative.”

  “Hell, McCall, how can you say that after what happened in Lon
don?”

  The LCR leader shrugged. “I’ve known her for years. Know what she’s made of. She’s strong. And she’ll come through this even stronger.”

  Jake didn’t respond. McCall hadn’t seen Angela after her scare. There was no way she was anything but terrified. Just because she had assured him she could do this didn’t mean it was true. He had to get to her before the maniac caused her even more damage. Determination settled in his gut…nothing would stop him from saving her.

  McCall hissed a vicious curse.

  “What?”

  When McCall didn’t answer, Jake shot him a look. The bleak expression in his eyes chilled Jake’s blood.

  “What the hell’s wrong?” Jake barked.

  “The GPS went dark. We have no way to track her.”

  The determination in Jake’s gut turned to dust. Angela was on her own.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The cessation of movement jolted Angela back to consciousness and reality. Like the first sprinkle of raindrops before a downpour, half-formed facts appeared in her mind. The Red Rose Killer. Abduction. Drugged.

  She shook her head to clear it and full knowledge of the events poured down on her. How long had she been unconscious? When had the van stopped? Would he leave them here in this hellish box or let them out? She remembered that in one of her more lucid moments, she had tried to lift the top with her back. It hadn’t budged. Until he deemed it time to let them out, they were here for the duration.

  “Clarissa, are you awake?”

  “Yes. Thank God you are, too. We’ve been traveling forever and you’ve been mumbling about all sorts of bizarre things.”

  “Sorry. Whatever he drugged me with made me hallucinate.”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you be able to fight him when he lets us out?”

  The hope in Clarissa’s voice was painful to hear—all the more because Angela wasn’t sure of the answer. Without drugs, she could handle the maniac, no problem. But she was still disoriented. On top of that, her extremities had gone numb. The moment she was released from this compartment, she’d love to think she could spring out of here and take the killer down. Truth was, she didn’t know if her legs would hold her.