by Lydia Rowan
Before he could open the door, Seth had put the SUV in Park and was getting out of the driver side.
“Excellent plan,” he said and together they took off at a desperate pace, dodging the people who strolled along the sidewalks and ignoring the blaring horns and curses that followed them as people tried to maneuver around the parked SUV. A shitty thing to do, but Lucian couldn’t possibly care less and knew that nothing, nothing at all, was more important than getting to Cassandra.
He reached his building and grabbed the front door, moving automatically, but Seth’s staying hand on his arm stopped him.
“Adam set up across the street. Gives us a better vantage point.”
“What are you talking about? I’m going up there and—”
“No,” Seth said, shaking his head. “You don’t know what he’s up to, and we need to be smart about this. We just can’t barge in, guns blazing.”
Seth was right, but Lucian still held the door tight in his hand. Held it for a second longer, the urge, almost irresistible, to go to Cassandra spurring him on, making him want to cast aside all reason.
Finally, after several more long moments, he relented.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Seth nodded and a moment later they began weaving their way through the four lanes of traffic that separated his home from an office building across the way.
It was new construction, and Lucian had even considered relocating some of Silver’s operations here. He hadn’t pulled the trigger on the deal yet, but he knew the top two floors were empty. Without confirming it with Seth, he made his way to the elevator, reluctantly acknowledging it would take him up the forty-five flights of stairs faster than he could run, and waited, the floors passing him by one after another, the urgency increasing.
When the doors finally opened, Lucian stepped out onto the top floor and immediately headed to Adam, who had set up a makeshift base in the unfinished penthouse.
“What we got?” he said.
Adam was hunched over, busily looking through his binoculars, and spoke to Lucian without looking up.
“One hostile. Elton Miller. One friendly. Cassandra Portersen.”
Neither Adam nor Seth was treating this with anything less than complete seriousness, which only convinced Lucian his concerns that Cassandra was in grave danger were correct.
“Weapons? Backup?”
“Haven’t seen anything to indicate either, but I know he has something,” Adam said.
“What do you mean?” Seth asked.
“Guys like that don’t work without something on hand. I don’t see any firearms, though they could be concealed. But he has something,” Adam said with certainty.
He lowered his binoculars and turned to look at Lucian, extending them as he did.
Lucian took the offered binoculars and pulled them up to his eyes, focusing five stories below to his fortieth-floor unit.
The privacy shades were completely open, and he knew that Cassandra was the reason. He sometimes liked to enjoy the view, but for the most part didn’t like being as exposed as he was when the shades were open. But Lucian was grateful Cass had opened the blinds this morning after he’d left because they gave him a perfect view of the living room.
A perfect view of Cassandra as she sat, seeming to try to melt into one corner of his sofa.
Outwardly she looked fine, her expression neutral, not suggesting she was in any particular danger.
But Lucian knew her now, and as he looked closer he noticed the way her shoulders were hunched up practically to her ears, the way she kept one hand gripped tight across her knee, the narrowing of her eyes, which were usually so open, so direct.
She was afraid, as afraid as he’d ever seen her, and again, the horror of seeing that on her face grabbed him so he was leaning forward almost as if he could get to her.
But he couldn’t, so after a deep breath, he looked away and found the target. Miller moved around behind Cassandra, wandering aimlessly but not anxiously, his movements more suggestive of hyperactivity, someone who could never quite be still more than a second, making him very dangerous. But Lucian wouldn’t be swayed by appearance.
He looked closer, didn’t see any weight in his steps that suggested he had a weapon at his ankle, looked up and didn’t see anything indicative of a holster or other concealed weapon in his waistband or undershirt.
So Adam’s assessment that he didn’t have a firearm, at least not on him, had been correct. But Lucian wasn’t a fool.
That he was calm enough to infiltrate Lucian’s home and to do so without a handgun only spoke to his training and his commitment.
And if he’d had no hesitation about coming there, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Cassandra.
“You got a phone?”
“We set something up,” Seth supplied.
Lucian nodded. “Give it to me. I’m going to make contact.”
22
It had been one, maybe two hours, and they had been the absolute longest of Cassandra’s life. It was weird, because she’d been thinking of everything and at the same time nothing at all, almost suspended in a state of animation, stuck in purgatory and at the complete mercy of things beyond her control.
Which was why, when she heard the familiar chime of her cell phone, she didn’t immediately react.
Instead she stared at it as it laid on Lucian’s coffee table vibrating and lighting up, the notes sounding loud, jangly, far too normal, cheerful, for her current circumstances in the thickly silent room.
She watched it as though it was a foreign object, as though it wasn’t attached to her most of the time.
But a moment later, the spell broke and she reached for it on instinct.
“Wait!”
She froze, looked over at Miller as he stared at her suspiciously. “Answer that. Don’t try anything.”
Cassandra said nothing, though the question “What can I try?” sat on the tip of her tongue. It was a cell phone. What did he think she would do with it?
Deciding then that that particular discussion was going nowhere, she kept her thoughts to herself and reached for the phone, the weight familiar in her hand, the number splashed across the front of it unfamiliar.
When she reached for the green button, the phone stopped ringing, and a crushing disappointment came over her. It was short-lived, though, because the phone immediately started to ring again, and this time Cassandra didn’t tarry. She pushed the green button and brought the phone to her ear, but spoke tentatively.
“Hello?”
The word came out a breathy whisper, the voice she spoke in not one she recognized as her own.
“Cassie—”
Hearing his voice, the hated nickname that she had fought so hard against, threatened to break her resolve, made something come loose in her chest, and she felt an explosion of warmth, tears of relief and sadness all rolled into one.
Hearing his voice also lifted her weighted heart, gave her a surge of energy that reminded her who she was. But hearing his voice didn’t change the fact that she was here with Miller.
“Lucian, I—”
She cut off when the phone was wrenched from her hand.
Miller glared at her for a moment but then turned and began his irregular pacing again as he spoke into the phone.
“Lucian? Lucian Silver, I presume?”
He paused, listening, and Cassandra moved toward him, straining to hear everything that transpired.
She didn’t, though, only heard muffled sounds, trying to convince herself that it was Lucian’s voice, but knowing that she couldn’t be sure.
“The man himself. I kinda wish you were here.”
Miller lifted a brow.
“Why? Why do I wish you were here?” He repeated the question with as much agitation as Cassandra had heard all day.
“Your friend here watched my sister die, asshole. It might be nice to repay that favor.”
Elton paused and turned, listening intently to what Cassandra p
resumed was Lucian speaking.
Then, he lifted his eyes to her, narrowed his darkening gaze on her. “You ready to talk? If not, I’d be happy to talk to Ms. Portersen instead.”
He looked away, but not before he smiled triumphantly.
“So I see we have your attention.”
He walked to the enormous bank of windows. “You’re out there, watching?” He paused a moment, then said, “No answer?”
He waited again. “You don’t have to answer. I think I know well enough that you see me. But take a good look.” Then he reached into his pocket, retrieved what looked to be a cell phone. “And while you’re at it, take a look at this,” he said, wiggling the device back and forth.
“I may not have had your attention before, but I’m certain I have it now. Now, let’s talk,” he said.
••••
“Tell me that’s not what it looks like,” Seth said.
“What does it look like?” Adam said.
“Looks like a detonator to me,” Seth said.
“Then it is what it looks like,” Adam said.
While he spoke, Lucian looked through the binoculars, agreeing with the assessment.
It was a detonator, or the damn finest imitation he’d ever seen, and Lucian’s gut twisted hard, fear threatening to take his breath away.
“What do you plan to do with that?” Lucian finally asked into the phone when he could breathe again.
Miller laughed, which made Lucian want to choke him even more than he already did.
“What does one usually do with detonators?” Miller asked.
Lucian didn’t answer the rhetorical question, but then again he didn’t have to. They had known he’d have something, but this…
“What do you want?” Lucian grated out through clenched teeth. Seeing the detonator had made him afraid, but hearing Miller’s voice, the threat in it, made him so angry he could hardly breathe.
“I’ll let you know. I still need to talk to Cassandra,” he said.
“You motherfuck—”
The line was disconnected and Lucian squeezed the phone, tempted to crush it, if only to alleviate some of the boiling rage.
“Hold it together, Silver,” Adam said gruffly as he peeled the phone from Lucian’s hands. Then he turned. “You hold the phone from now on, kid,” he told Seth. Then he looked back to Lucian. “And you need to go take a walk,” he said.
“A walk? That fucker has Cassandra and a bomb. What the fuck is a walk going to do?”
“And what the fuck is you losing your shit gonna do? So take a walk or stay and deal with me,” Adam said.
He put the phone down and now squared up to face Lucian.
Lucian knew that Adam wasn’t going to back down and he also knew what his old friend said was true.
He did need to calm down, and losing his shit wouldn’t help Cassie.
So he did as suggested, or ordered, and did a lap around the unfinished penthouse floor, turning the thought over in his mind. Less than two minutes later, he returned to where Seth and Adam stood huddled at the windows, still watching through binoculars.
“Any idea what this is about?” Seth asked when he returned.
“Not entirely sure, but I don’t think this is about Tammy. Not entirely, anyway,” Lucian said, focusing on the facts and not the emotion that threatened to choke him. The facts, at least, he could understand.
“What? You think Tammy was a front?” Adam asked.
Lucian shook his head. “We looked into her. She was troubled, but he doesn’t seem to have those same troubles,” he said.
“So Cassandra is just an accident?” Seth said.
“Or maybe an unexpected opportunity for him. Without knowing how involved he was in his sister’s life, we can’t say for sure whether he knew about Cassandra. But once he found out about her and Silver Industries, he may have seen a chance.”
“So this is a good old-fashioned negotiation,” Adam said.
“Yeah, except Cassie is the bargaining chip,” Lucian said, not even wanting to say it but knowing that ignoring the facts wouldn’t change them and that thinking this situation through was the only way he could reach the only acceptable conclusion.
“What’s the price?” Seth asked.
“Not certain, but if I had to guess, I’d say access to Silver Industries’ servers,” Lucian said.
As he spoke, a heavy weight settled in his gut.
Adam snorted. “I don’t even have access to those servers or the deep, dark secrets inside them,” he said.
“Me either. I’d bet access would go for a pretty penny, though,” Seth said.
Seth and Adam’s conversation gave voice to the thought Lucian couldn’t escape.
“I don’t think our friend is out for vengeance,” Adam said.
“I don’t think he is either,” Lucian said, his voice solid but his insides shaking.
“Which means…” Seth said.
“Which means Cassandra is stuck with a psycho terrorist who wants something I can’t give him, and he’ll do anything it takes to get me to change my mind.”
23
A bomb.
She was in this room with this man and a bomb.
Cassandra looked around as surreptitiously as she could, searching for it, wanting to see it, though she couldn’t say why. It certainly wouldn’t make her feel better, but seeing the bomb was a desperate need.
“Over here, sweetheart,” Miller said, looking at her knowingly.
“I don’t see anything,” she said.
Her voice was stronger, and the sound was in direct opposition to how she’d felt when he held up that small black device. The pit in her stomach had gotten impossibly deeper, and the already precarious situation became much worse. And then when he spoke, confirmed that it was a detonator, it took everything inside of her not to try to run, even though she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere.
“Don’t you love inquisitive minds? Those with the time to dedicate themselves to making munitions smaller and smaller with each passing year?”
He patted his pocket and Cassandra flinched, noting that he didn’t take any particular care with it.
He smiled. “Don’t worry, Ms. Portersen, this is very, very stable. Unless of course I have to push this button. Which I hope, for both our sakes, I don’t,” he said.
Cassandra looked away then, but turned back when he began pacing, watching him, considering the bizarreness of the situation. But Cassandra stayed silent, knowing that there was nothing she could say in this situation.
What she did know was that what she had thought before was a difficult situation had gotten much worse. She’d held out hope that Miller was something else, that maybe he simply wanted money, or even revenge, but the chill that crept over her skin told her how wrong she had been.
His eyes looked like his sister’s now. What she had thought was emptiness was certainty, fervor, not as warm as Tammy’s, but just as intense.
Cassandra looked away, her stomach dropping, and what little faith she had had that she would make it through this day began to crumble.
••••
Another fifteen minutes passed by with excruciating slowness, but Lucian held himself together. Miller was playing straight out of the playbook, and he knew that this time was only designed to make them squirm, to make him think about all the terrible things that might happen to Cassandra.
Miller was softening him up, letting him imagine the worst before he made his offer. It was exactly what Lucian would’ve done were their roles reversed, and he wouldn’t fall for it.
No matter how hard it was to stay strong.
Because the detonator was one thing, but they had bigger problems.
Cruz had found at least three caches of plastic explosives strategically placed around the building. He’d left them in place, uncertain as to whether there were more, and what effect moving one would have on the others. The last thing they wanted was an accidental detonation, especially before they ha
d a chance to determine where any other explosives had been placed.
That alone was enough to make the situation excruciating, but thinking of Cassandra alone with Miller…
He tried to keep himself from going there, knew that Adam and Seth were doing the same, but it was difficult, nearly impossible.
Because whatever happened, it wouldn’t be slow. Miller might not be sadistic. Lucian didn’t have enough information to make that determination. But what he definitely wasn’t was stupid, so he wouldn’t just kill her, getting rid of all his leverage in one shot. No. He’d make her suffer, make her suffer for so long, Lucian wouldn’t have a choice but to give him exactly what he wanted.
And the thing was, he couldn’t say for sure he wouldn’t. Didn’t know how he’d respond to the sight of Cassandra suffering. Wasn’t sure he wouldn’t open up the doors to the damn Department of Defense himself to spare her a moment’s pain.
That was what Miller was banking on.
“We need to call this in,” Seth said.
Adam said nothing, but his silence was agreement.
“No fuckin’ way,” Lucian said.
“Yeah. I know. You need to call this in,” Seth said.
He knew the kid was right, but that didn’t mean he appreciated the intrusion.
“I’m not going to have some incompetent bureaucrat fuck this up and get Cassandra killed,” he said.
“Yeah. Me either. We need to call this in,” Seth said.
Lucian bit back the growing frustration. It was that persistence, that unwavering sense of right and wrong, that had proven Seth’s value and talent, but right now those characteristics were proving irritating as fuck.
“Yeah,” Lucian said, saying the only thing he could muster.
Seth heard and looked at him almost with pity, barely managing to keep his expression neutral.
“I have a couple buddies at Homeland. I’ll call them. Ask that they be discreet about this for a little while,” he said.
“Thanks, Seth,” he said. And then nodded.
He appreciated the gesture, he really did. But there was not a lot they could do. Explosives on American soil would trigger an all-out response, and while there would be no malice directed at Cassandra, her safety would not be the primary concern.