by Debra Webb
As if he’d been waiting just around the corner listening, Anastasia stepped into view. “Do we have a problem, Issy?”
“We need to talk.” She steadied herself, met his gaze with defiance in her own. “Privately.”
He smiled. “At last.”
With a wave of his hand he dismissed the thug, then he gestured for her to come to him. Forcing one foot in front of the other, she moved closer and closer to the monster who would forevermore play the lead in all her nightmares—assuming she lived through this night.
With a hand at the small of her back, he ushered her toward the grand staircase.
“We’ll have more privacy upstairs.”
Doing all within her power to prevent her body from shaking with the new fear spreading through her, she ascended the stairs at his side. She needed him to believe she wanted to cooperate. If she could somehow barter Lacon’s release, she might have to bide her time until he and the Colby Agency figured out the best way to rescue her.
As much as the idea sickened her, she would do whatever was necessary until then.
“Did the situation on South Calumet work itself out?” she asked. Her voice was a little thinner than she would have liked, but at least it wasn’t shaking.
He smiled at her. Her stomach cramped with disgust. “It did. Thank you for asking.”
Upstairs, the house was as elegantly decorated as downstairs. How was it such a vicious man could have such opulent taste?
The spacious corridor went left and right. He directed her to the right. At the end of the corridor stood double doors. Renewed terror licked a path up her spine. His private rooms, which probably included a bedroom.
Stay cool. You can do this. All she needed was one minute with a phone to call for help. Then maybe both she and Lacon would be rescued.
He opened the doors to a sitting room. More double doors that stood beyond the sofa likely led to his more private rooms. The windows on either side of the generous space offered magnificent views, as well as another opportunity for her. A small occasional chair sat next to the sofa. She could probably pick it up and hurl it toward the window. If she succeeded in breaking the glass, the alarm would likely go off.
Pay attention, Issy. Find the right opportunity.
“Please.” He gestured to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll open the champagne. This is reason to celebrate.”
She sat down, felt the slim steel in her pocket that didn’t give with the move. The scalpel’s presence gave her comfort. Thank you, Lacon. “I’d like to discuss the terms of our arrangement, but first I have one condition.”
The cork popped. “You’re a brilliant woman, Issy. I expected you would have certain conditions.”
Hearing the sizzle of the bubbly drink overflowing was when she realized that he’d had a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket of ice. Two stemmed glasses sat on the table next to the bucket. He’d prepared for this moment. Asking her to give him an answer had only been another of his games. He had always planned to have his wish, one way or another. The possibility that nothing she said or did would impact how this turned out made her start to shake deep inside.
No. This was the twenty-first century. People didn’t get to enslave other people in this country...unless they didn’t get caught. Panic burgeoned inside her. She thought of the high-profile victims she’d read about in the news who had been held for years—decades—by men with far fewer resources than Vito Anastasia.
Focus, Issy. No losing hope.
While he poured the bubbly liquid, she collected herself. By the time he joined her at the sofa, she had decided to go with the strategy she’d already begun in her head. She accepted the glass he offered and announced, “This first condition is nonnegotiable.”
He savored the drink. “I’m quite curious as to what that condition is.”
“Let him go. You let him go and my answer is yes—assuming we agree on a couple of other terms.”
He smiled. “By him, you mean your friend—your bodyguard who held you and kissed you like a lover.”
She shrugged. “Being a physician is a demanding job. You get lonely. Sometimes a woman as busy as I am needs someone, even if I am paying him for other services. Handy is sometimes the only option.” She prayed he didn’t see the lie in her words.
He nodded. “I understand. My position is much the same. Loneliness goes with the territory.” He draped his arm over the back of the sofa and touched her hair. “But neither of us has to be alone again.”
As difficult as it proved, she forced a smile, resisting the need to shudder. “Then you agree to my first condition.”
“I will consider it.” He finished his glass and set it on the cocktail table. “But I fear there may be a glitch in doing so.”
She frowned. “What glitch?”
“I pride myself in my ability to measure a man. This man will not willingly ride off into the sunset, leaving you behind.”
“He will do exactly what I tell him to do.” If her heart pounded any harder, she was sure he would see it threatening to burst from her chest.
“He’ll only bring the authorities and others from his agency, and I fear if that happens you might not stand by our agreement.”
“You have my word.” She sipped her drink. “Now, if that’s settled, let’s move on. I’ll need to give the Edge a two-week notice. Otherwise my reputation will be damaged, and I’ve worked too hard to allow that to happen.” Another sip for her dry throat. “I’m going to want four times my current salary. I’m sure that’s far more than you paid William but I’m a far better physician than he was, and smarter.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Your excitement sounds quite convincing, Issy. What changed your mind?”
Keep him talking. Keep him off guard. Lacon’s backup would be calling his boss and the police by now. Help would come.
“Oh I’m not finished yet.” She placed her glass on the table. “I will not live in that carriage house. Too cramped, too confining. I noticed a very nice town house across the street. It’s not for sale, but I’m certain you can take care of that.”
He studied her, appeared to be amused. “Either you’ve considered the situation at length, or you’re playing me to buy time.” The amusement vanished. “Which is it, Issy?”
“You’re right. I’ve spent a great deal of time pondering my dilemma. Since I don’t want to end up like William, and the police don’t seem capable of stopping you, why fight the inevitable? I’ve always considered myself quite pragmatic in matters related to my career and my financial future.”
His narrowed gaze relaxed. “Assuming I meet your first condition and your other terms.”
“Assuming so, yes.”
He stood. Her heart stumbled. She pushed to her feet and followed him to the windows that overlooked the back of his property. Think! Whatever was happening to Lacon, she had to stop it now.
“If your people harm him, I’m afraid our negotiations will be over.”
Anastasia shifted his attention to her once more. “You present quite the quandary, Issy.”
“It’s really quite simple. You let him go—I stay.”
He reached out, touched the pulse at the base of her throat. “You want me to believe you’re calm and confident, that your decision is made. But I can feel your terror, Issy. How am I supposed to trust your words when your body tells me a completely different story?”
“You want me here with you, isn’t that right?” She moved nearer to him. “Not just my ability as a physician, but me.” She held her breath, touched his face, traced the line of his jaw. He stood stone still, but his eyes gave her the answer she sought. She was right. “I’m here and I’m willing to stay.”
He smiled, the expression tight, angry. “Do you believe me a fool?”
She fought to keep the tremblin
g at bay. “Why would I think that?”
“I saw the way he kissed you. The way you responded. You will sacrifice yourself for him, and then you will run the first opportunity that presents itself.”
She set her hands on her hips. “You had me brought here like a prisoner. I’ve offered you a deal and you don’t seem interested. Why don’t you take me back home, and when you make up your mind, you can call me.”
Every ounce of courage she possessed was required to turn her back on him and to start walking toward the door.
If he had a weapon, he could draw it right now and shoot her. It was a risk she had to take. Lacon could be dying at this very moment. She had to help him.
A ruthless grip curled around her left arm. “No one walks away from me.” He yanked her around to face him. “You will do exactly as I say, or everyone you care about will die, starting with your friend downstairs.”
Stay strong. Don’t let him see more than he already has.
“I offered to do exactly as you say. I gave you my terms.”
“This is not a negotiation, as you appear to believe.” His grip tightened on her arm. “You are now my property. There are no other terms or conditions. I’ve warned you of the consequences if you refuse to cooperate.”
“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She hooked the thumb of her free hand in her right pocket. “I will do whatever you say. Just let my friend go and I’m good.”
His evil smile was back. “I’m afraid it’s too late for your friend. You see, Raeford fancies himself a coroner. He often practices on those we find in our way.”
“You asshole,” she snarled.
He threw his head back and laughed. “You should see your face.”
While he continued to laugh, her fingers dipped into her back pocket, wrapped around the handle of the scalpel.
“I hope you’re wrong, Vito,” she warned.
He shook his head and laughed some more. “Oh, I’m not wrong, Issy. I’m never wrong.”
“Too bad.”
She stepped toward him and stabbed the scalpel into his throat.
He twisted. The cold steel sank into him.
He howled and reached for the scalpel. Blood seeped between his fingers.
She ran.
He had moved, so she missed the artery she had been aiming for. If she was really, really lucky, maybe she’d landed a fatal wound anyway. There were several veins and arteries in the neck.
A gunshot exploded in the air. The bullet hit the doorframe as she rushed from the room.
She ran faster, hoping the pain and any bleeding would slow him down.
Stairs.
She hit the stairs running. Two at a time. She almost fell. Grabbed the railing to catch herself and kept going.
Another shot.
The bullet pinged on the metal railing right behind her.
He was still coming.
Oh God.
* * *
TOP THUG TIGHTENED the strap on Lacon’s right wrist. “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Traynor. Sometimes my associate feels he doesn’t ever get to be in on the real fun stuff.” He moved on to the end of the table and reached for the first of the two straps there. “These younger guys, they think they’re owed something for doing nothing more than breathing.” He laughed. “But he’ll learn, or who knows, maybe I’ll lose my patience and blow his head off.”
The two men had almost come to punches arguing about who would have the pleasure of torturing Lacon and who would coordinate the security team outside. Both men were fully aware that the Colby Agency would send backup when it became apparent their client and investigator were missing in action.
The good news was that the argument had given Lacon the opportunity to unfasten the strap on his left hand since the disagreement had broken out before his right was restrained. He’d quickly arranged the strap so that it still looked fastened.
Top Thug returned to Lacon’s side. “Now we’re ready to begin.”
“Where’s Dr. Frasier?” He had asked that question three times already, mostly just to make the man hesitate.
“She’s conferring with Mr. Anastasia.” He grinned. “I imagine he’s learning all her secrets by now.”
Fury stormed through Lacon. He gritted his teeth and stayed perfectly still while the older man opened the cabinet. More broken glass scattered on the floor.
“This should do nicely.” He turned back to the table, the other scalpel Lacon had noticed among the tools in his hand. “I’m so intrigued by the inner workings of the human body. I should have become a surgeon.”
“I’ll bet Dr. Frasier could give you a few pointers.”
He laughed again. “I doubt she’ll be very happy with me when she learns what I’ve done to you. You won’t care one way or another because you’ll be dead.” He placed the scalpel on the table between Lacon’s legs. “Let’s start with the chest. So much to work with there. I almost always start with the torso.”
One by one he released the buttons of Lacon’s shirt. He pushed back the sides to expose his chest. “Here we go.” He reached for the scalpel.
Lacon made his move. He socked the older man in the face, sending him tumbling backward and falling into the cabinet. Lacon shook his hand, ignoring the pain from the impact that had no doubt broken the old bastard’s nose. He unfastened the strap on his right hand and the one around his waist. He had his right foot free before the man staggered back to the table, blood pouring down his face.
“You son of a bitch.” Top Thug drew his weapon.
Lacon kicked his wrist, sending the weapon flying. A second kick hit him in the chest. Top Thug slammed to the floor this time.
Lacon released his left foot and jumped off the table. He snagged the gun before the bastard could reach it. “On the table! Now!”
Top Thug started to argue, but Lacon shoved the gun in his face. “On the table.”
The older man scooted onto the table. Lacon quickly strapped him in and felt in his pockets for his cell phone. “What’s the code for the door?”
The man laughed. “Don’t you wish you knew?”
The keypad also had a biometric thumb print scanner. “No problem.” Lacon rounded the table and snagged the hacksaw from the cabinet. “Which hand do you want to keep?”
He shouted the code.
“Where did Anastasia take her?”
“To his suite. Upstairs.”
Lacon rushed from the room and raced up the stairs to the first floor. He cracked the door open and listened before stepping out into the deserted hall.
The sound of a gunshot in the main living area had him bursting into the corridor.
He eased in that direction, listening for more trouble.
A scream.
Issy.
He charged forward, ran headlong into the younger thug who’d brought them here. He whipped the barrel of his weapon toward Lacon, but he didn’t fire quickly enough—the bullet from Lacon’s weapon nailed him center chest. The thug dropped like a rock. Lacon grabbed the downed man’s weapon and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans.
He made it as far as the entry hall without encountering anyone else. There, the front door abruptly opened. A man dressed all in black, including a face mask, stepped inside. Perimeter security. Lacon fired in his direction. He scrambled back out the door.
Another scream.
Lacon shifted toward the staircase.
Anastasia was dragging Issy up the steps.
Lacon rushed for the stairs. The front door opened again. This time he didn’t fire wide of his target. He popped the guy in the shoulder. He disappeared outside the door again.
Lacon took the stairs three at a time. He was at the top before the man in black made another attempt to come inside.
Shouting sounded somewhere in
the vicinity of the back of the downstairs area. Kitchen or den. More of Anastasia’s men were coming. Damn it. They were running out of time.
The double doors at the end of the hall closed as Lacon headed down that corridor. Lacon sent Michaels an SOS text and the address in case he hadn’t already narrowed down where they might be.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and moved slowly toward the double doors, listening for the slightest sound from the room.
Voices. Heated words. They were arguing.
Lacon stood to one side and turned the knob. He opened the door a narrow crack and peeked beyond it.
Anastasia had Issy by the hair, the muzzle of his weapon shoved against her throat. Blood oozed from a wound in his neck. The scalpel, Lacon decided. Good girl, Issy.
“Join us, won’t you, Mr. Traynor.”
Lacon cleared his mind and focused on one thing: stopping this bastard. He stepped in the room, then to his right, putting his back to the wall so none of Anastasia’s men could sneak up on him. There was blood on her T-shirt. Fear ignited in his veins. “You okay, Issy?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t sound okay.
“Let her go,” he offered, “and you and I will finish this. The winner takes all.”
Anastasia laughed. “This,” he glared at Lacon, “is my world. You don’t get to set the rules, Mr. Traynor. You’re both going to die.”
“If that’s your final decision,” Lacon said, “I can live with that.”
Anastasia swung his weapon, aiming it toward Lacon. “I just told you that you’re going to die.”
Lacon didn’t bother responding. He put a bullet in the guy’s head.
The weapon fell from his hand and he crumpled to the floor.
Issy rushed to him. “Are you hurt?” She looked him up and down.
“You’re the one with blood all over you.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. “They were going to kill you.”
“We’re not in the clear yet,” he warned.
He’d no more said the words than the sound of running footfalls echoed from the corridor.
He jerked his head toward the nearest door. Issy didn’t look happy, but she disappeared behind it.