Hard To Tame

by Kylie Brant

  She almost decided on heading to the bus depot, before rejecting the idea in the next moment. Nick would be expecting her to try to flee the city, so he’d have the major transit centers covered. She leaned forward and asked the driver, “How far is the next town that would have its own bus depot?”

  The driver scratched his head. “Well, there’s a station in Joliet.”

  “How much would it cost to have you drive me there?”

  The look he sent her in the rearview mirror was incredulous. “Lady, it’d be a lot cheaper to just take a bus there from here, y’know?”

  She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I’m growing fond of your company. How much?”

  “To Joliet?” The price he named would put a sizable dent in the amount of money she had stuffed in her pants pocket. But she couldn’t let that fact deter her. “Then let’s do it.” She sank back against the seat cushions and watched the scenery pass by with less speed than she would have liked. She willed her impatience away. Soon enough she’d be putting Chicago, and Victor Mannen, behind her once again, this time forever.

  The pain in her chest reminded her that she was also putting miles between her and Nick Doucet.

  Sara stared out the window at the Joliet bus station. She peered in all directions, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Somehow she doubted Nick would come after her in the limo, but she’d feel better if she knew what kind of vehicle she should be looking for.

  In the next moment she shook off her nerves. There was no way for him to cover Chicago and all its surrounding towns. She was almost home free.

  An ironic smile twisted her lips as she counted out the bills to pay the driver. Home was a relative term. And in the next few hours she needed to decide where her next “home” would be. She got out of the cab and crossed the parking lot toward the depot. Her identities were always chosen after combing a county’s death records for a female who would have been around her age if she’d lived. It took further digging to narrow the search to one who’d been born in a different county or state, and some careful research to find out whether the two locations were cross-referenced.

  It would work best to choose a city, do the research there, then move on to another town hundreds of miles away and send for a birth certificate. Sara decided she’d been wise to choose to travel by bus, after all. She passed the vehicles in the handicapped spots and ascended the curb. It wouldn’t take long to go through the rest of her money. Especially while she was waiting for—

  He loomed out of nowhere. One moment she had her eye on the steps ahead leading to the depot building, and the next Nick had appeared from behind a nearby van. Immediately she whirled to sprint away.

  In less than four strides he was at her side, his arms wrapped around, rendering useless the training he’d given her. Her feet were free, though, and she kicked frantically even as she opened her mouth to scream.

  Before she could emit a sound, she was picked up and tossed in the back of a white utility van, and the door was shut behind them. When she tried to scramble to her feet, Nick sprawled on top of her.

  “Go.”

  At Nick’s command the driver pulled away. Sara struggled beneath him, trying to throw him off.

  “You need to listen to me.” His voice was harsh, to cover the underlying layer of urgency. “I know how it looked. How it seems. But there’s an explanation.”

  “Get off me.” Her own voice shook with rage. She worked a hand free and made a bridge of her palm, then rammed it upward. Quick reflexes were all that saved him from a broken nose or worse. He caught her wrist in his hand and wrestled it back to the floor of the van. The ease with which he managed the feat seemed to infuriate her further.

  “You’ll listen,” he said grimly, “if I have to keep you in here all day.”

  “You’ve explained a lot of things over the last several days, Nick,” she snapped. “It’s getting increasingly difficult to sustain belief. You said that man was gone.”

  “I remember what I said.” He felt an uncharacteristic thread of panic, one that had started unraveling the moment he’d looked up from that table and seen her staring at him, knowing what she’d think. And certain that one too many lies along the way had strained her shaky trust too much for her to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “The man you saw was Luc LeNoue, a colleague of mine. He did leave the country. He was told—” his tone took on a note of grimness “—to stay out for the course of this job. He was supposed to be in France.”

  Her chin was tilted at a familiar angle. “How did you find me?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Let me explain about Luc. I know it must have frightened you to see him again, but—”

  “How did you find me?” she repeated flatly.

  He drew in a breath, aware that his answer wasn’t going to help his cause any. “Your shoes. I had tracking devices planted in every pair when I ordered them. The men in this van have the monitoring equipment necessary to trace your movements.”

  Her eyes, her voice, went glacial. “How very enterprising of you. And so much more effective than a leash and chain.”

  He shifted his weight, making their contact that much more intimate. There was a layer of desperation in his gut now. He couldn’t have said why it was so important to make her understand. “Everything I told you in the Keys is the truth. I didn’t expect Luc here, but he was able to uncover something about Mannen that might put this case to rest.”

  She turned her face away, and the gesture was like a punch to the jaw. It told him better than words that there was nothing he could say that she would listen to right now, or believe.

  Which meant that the bond he thought they’d forged hadn’t been deep enough, strong enough to hold her when freedom beckoned. And he knew he had only himself to blame for that.

  Chapter 13

  Kim and Luc wore abashed looks when Nick followed Sara into the house. She didn’t spare a glance for either one of them before striding to the stairway and mounting the steps toward the bedroom. The sight of that slender spine shot with steel made Nick’s gut clench. He tore his gaze away from Sara and used it to stare down his employees.

  Kim broke first. “Ah…I’ll go upstairs and stand watch.”

  “You do that. Will you need to be armed first?”

  Wincing at the reference to the effortless manner in which Sara had disabled her, Kim backed away, shaking her head. “That won’t happen again.” She turned to follow Sara, only to stop in midstride. “I forgot.” Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Mannen called twice since we got back. He says it’s urgent.” She shot Nick a pacifying glance. “Maybe this thing is going to break soon, huh?”

  Tension was rapping at the back of his skull. He’d forgotten for a while that he’d sent the phone with Kim. The one in the van had allowed him to communicate with the operatives he’d dispatched to the house before taking off after Sara.

  Kim hurried up the stairs. He allowed her to make her escape. His true wrath was saved for the man who even now was looking as though he wished he’d stayed on the other side of the ocean.

  Striding into the drawing room, Nick headed straight to the bar and poured two fingers of Scotch. Luc followed him into the room with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner approaching the gallows.

  “Believe me, I know what you’re going to say.”

  Nick tossed back the first shot and let the liquor sear a wicked path to his stomach. “Then you won’t be surprised when I kick your ass clear across the Atlantic.”

  “I know I screwed up and I don’t blame you for tearing into me. If it makes you feel any better, I’m as disgusted with me as you are.”

  Tipping the bottle to his glass, Nick filled it again. “Somehow I doubt that could be possible.”

  The man shrugged, his tone placating. “It all turned out okay, though, right? You found her. I knew you were too damn careful not to have a foolproof backup plan.” Something in Nick’s eyes must have warned him. He actually to
ok a step away. “But why don’t I get to the point? Like I told you in the restaurant, I found something I think we can use on Mannen.”

  Nick’s attention still had an annoying habit of straying to the woman upstairs. With a conscious effort, he shifted it. “Tell me what you found.”

  Surer of his footing now, the man complied. “I started with the countries without extradition treaties with the United States, but decided that was too restrictive. I can’t see Mannen retiring to live in comfort in Libya. So then I broadened the search to countries where he’d be at ease, if he had a new identity. Started with a couple dozen, then narrowed it down to places he’s visited in the last few years. Hit pay dirt a couple days ago. Want to take a wild guess?”

  Despite himself, Nick felt a flicker of interest. “Italy.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence, then Luc shook his head wonderingly. “Damn. You are good. How’d you figure it?”

  “He considers himself cultured—a connoisseur of art, wine and opera. Italy fits on all counts. It’s also welcoming to wealthy Americans looking to relocate and spread their money around.”

  “That’s how I figured it, too. Sent out some feelers and found a rather large estate outside Milan has just changed hands among very mysterious circumstances. The owner is already beginning to ship his belongings.” Before Nick could ask, Luc admitted, “I haven’t gotten that far yet. If it’s Mannen, he’d route the packages through different countries to disguise their origin. But that’s my next item of business.”

  “Maybe you’ll find something to help you on this.” Nick reached into his pocket and withdrew the CD on which he’d downloaded Mannen’s files. “I’d planned to give it to you at the restaurant.” He explained how he’d gotten it, and was rewarded with a look of sheer joy on the man’s face.

  “You got to his computer? Ah…you’re a god, Nick. I always knew it.” Luc practically sprinted across the floor to snatch the file from his hand.

  “I’m still going to kick your ass.”

  “For a peek into the man’s files I’ll buy you the boots.”

  Although his tension hadn’t lessened appreciably, Nick pushed his glass aside. The liquor wasn’t helping. With a void this wide yawning inside him, it would be dangerous to try to fill it with booze, at any rate.

  “So…ah…” Luc appeared to be unusually tongue-tied. That was rarely a good sign. “I guess that was a real shock to Parker. To see me again like that.”

  A shock. Bitter humor twisted through Nick. “You could say that.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best, though. You know.” With more guts than sense he rushed on, even after Nick’s gaze landed on him. “Doesn’t really matter whether Mannen goes to prison or not, he’s not the type to give up. Anyone who gets tangled up with Parker becomes a target, too.”

  “You’re just full of wisdom today, aren’t you, Luc?” The man was saved from answering by the ringing of the cell phone in the next room. With a sense of inevitability, Nick went to answer it.

  “Michel, I left messages.”

  If there was a hint of rebuke in Mannen’s voice on the line, it was well hidden.

  “Have you? I’ve just walked in the door, I’m afraid. Haven’t spoken to anyone yet.”

  “No matter. I was wondering if you’d be free tonight. I have some thoughts about a way to shield our relationship from unwelcome scrutiny.” His reference to the undisguised interest of Connally, Jacobs and McKay was thinly veiled.

  “I’d be interested to hear any ideas you have, of course.”

  “Perhaps we could discuss them after dinner at my home this evening. Bring your lovely friend. I have an exquisite collection of Italian sculpture she may enjoy while we discuss business.”

  After a few more seconds of conversation, Nick broke the connection. Luc was watching him avidly. “Well? Got something going for this evening?”

  “Looks like it. Mannen wants another meeting.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky and wind this thing down sooner than you thought.”

  There was no reason for the sentence to remind Nick, yet again, of Sara. Of something precious lost before it could really be claimed.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice expressionless. “That’d be real lucky.”

  Sara would rather be force-fed splinters of glass than see Victor Mannen again, let alone be expected to dine with him, pretending to admire his belongings. The lone consolation was that the nerve-scraping scene would take her mind off Nick. And off the doubts that were jackhammering in her head.

  One bold thought stood out above the others, demanding her attention. Nick had mentioned that he and Mannen would discuss business this evening. Which meant she’d be alone, at least for several minutes. If the opportunity arose to slip away, she’d be on the run again without a second thought. And this time she’d know enough to do it minus her shoes.

  Nick’s hand was on her back as they mounted the marble steps to Mannen’s home. She felt as cold as the stone beneath her feet. She was grateful for the icy numbness encasing her, but knew it couldn’t be expected to last for long. When it melted and left her emotions raw and battered once again, she wanted to be far, far away from Nick Doucet. The last several hours had proved she couldn’t trust her feelings when it came to him.

  The door opened before they could ring the bell. Light spilled out behind Mannen as he greeted them. “Michel and Raeanne. I’m pleased you could make it.” Sara fought to keep her smile in place as he took her hand between his. Revulsion crawled in her veins.

  “And Ah’m pleased to be able to see more of yoah lovely home.”

  “Raeanne was quite taken with it the other night,” Nick said, as they strolled through the foyer.

  “I’m delighted you like it. I’ve always enjoyed surrounding myself with the best.”

  They followed him into a dining room, where a polished cherry table was set for three. Mannen withdrew a bottle of wine from a brass ice bucket and filled three crystal goblets. Handing them each a glass, he retained one for himself.

  “We have a half hour before the first course will be served. Allow me to show you some of my most prized belongings.” He gave them an indulgent smile. “I’m afraid I’m quite vain about my collections.”

  His mansion had reminded Sara of a museum the first time she’d seen it, but she was forced to revise her opinion now. It more closely resembled a mausoleum. Without the throngs of people that had filled the home the last time they’d been there, the area was lifeless. There was something eerie about the glass-encased shelving built to en-shrine riches that would be enjoyed by only one man.

  She acted suitably impressed by the centuries-old carpets and Fabergé eggs. Her head swirled with his talk of Grueby statues and Han horses. Nick had to carry on the bulk of the conversation because she was totally out of her element. It was enough, she hoped, that she acted dazzled.

  They’d gone through several of the rooms on the lower floor before Mannen looked at his watch. “I believe we have time before dinner to show you one more thing.” He turned and walked down the hall. In the direction of his office.

  Sara kept her gaze trained on the back of Mannen’s impeccably tailored suit. She wanted, badly, to look at Nick, to get his reaction. But in the next moment she remembered there wouldn’t be one, at least not a visible one. A knot the size of a fist clenched hard in her stomach. He was a master at a shielding his true emotions. She knew that better than anyone.

  Mannen used his body to shield their view as he keyed in the code to the security system. In the next moment, he was pushing the door open and turning on the light.

  “I’m especially proud of this piece.” He showed them to a statue of a horse that sat on a table next to a leather sofa. “I acquired it only last year. Rumors suggest it’s a lost piece from the bronzes of Miklagard.” He picked it up and caressed it with the greedy touch of a lecher stroking a woman. “I like to think that Emperor Nero once held this in his hands as he ordered the slaughter
of those who opposed him.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Sara said dutifully.

  He set it down on the table again, using the care of a mother with her child. “Thank you, my dear, but as you should know, beauty can’t always be trusted.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  He turned to face her then, and in his hand he held a lethal looking semiautomatic. And it was pointed right at her heart.

  “Mannen, what the hell are you doing?” Nick’s voice held just the right amount of incredulity, just the right amount of command. Even now, he was firmly entrenched in his role.

  Sara swayed, her gaze narrowed on the barrel of the gun. Pieces of the past flashed across her mind, forming a terrifying collage of violence. His order to his associate in the restaurant that night…the sound of the shot… But it wasn’t the stranger’s crumpled body that shifted into focus next, it was those of her friends. The lifeless bodies, the river of blood on the floor…

  “I have wondered, Michel, if you know just what kind of woman you’ve been keeping company with.” When Nick would have made a move toward him, Mannen stepped to the side, the gun still pointing at Sara. “I confess I’ve wondered myself since I entered this room after the party the other night and found that your lovely friend had been in here.”

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  Mannen backed away from them slowly, all the way to his desk, where he picked something up. Sara’s throat closed. From the man’s fingers dangled several ice-blue threads.

  Memory came with a sick sense of terror. She’d caught her heel in her hem, had had to work it loose. She’d never noticed the frayed threads her dress had shed. Such a little thing, she thought, to guarantee her death.

  “Don’t be a fool. What would Raeanne want in here? She wouldn’t know a Miklagard from a Ming.”

  “You’re quite right,” Mannen agreed equably. The gun never wavered. “The only thing in here of interest is the computer. And after some checking I decided that a flit-headed socialite probably has very little talent in that area. Which led me to deduce, Mr. Falcol—” the gun slowly swung toward Nick “—that the interest was yours. You were quite good. My associate still isn’t sure how you breached the security on it, but he can say with some certainty that it was breached.” Despite his words, Mannen’s tone was far from admiring. He was furious.