by Karen Kelley
“Kill him.” Winston spat on the ground again.
Jessica’s stomach lurched. She fumbled for her cell phone, slipping it out of the holder, ready to call her father.
“No, not just yet. Put him where he’ll be out of the way while we finish loading the truck. I met the bastard once and he acted like I wasn’t good enough to lick his boots. Drag him inside and tie him up. I want to have a little fun with him before I kill him.”
“It’d be a sight easier if I shoot him right now.” Winston spoke casually enough to make Jessica wonder if he’d killed in the past. He made it sound like it was something he did every day.
“No.” Al stood, prancing in front of Conor. “I want him to know who’s ending his life. He needs to be taught a lesson. Maybe then he’ll see that brains win over brawn any day.”
“What-a you mean?” George sidled up close to the other men. “Conor is-a not bad person. Maybe if-a he promises not to talk…”
“Drop that phony accent.” Al spun around and took a menacing step toward the smaller man.
George ran backwards and slammed against the side of the warehouse.
“Do you really think anyone buys that you’re Dutch?”
“It’s Italian-o,” George mumbled.
“Around me, you’d better be American. Now drag him inside and tie him up before he comes to.”
Relieved that she had a little more time, Jessica put her phone away and rested her head against the metal siding. Surely if Conor was badly injured, they wouldn’t worry if he were bound or not. Would they?
“Reckon he’s got help on the way?” Barry’s gaze darted left, then right.
“If he did, they’d have swarmed all over us by now. Be sides, if you’d listened to the news today, you’d have heard the cops think they have the burglars in custody.” Al looked down at Conor. A malicious grin spread across his face. “No, cops stick together. He was only checking us out. Just got a little too close. Probably thought he was invincible. I’ll show him just how invincible he is.”
Al might have fooled her once, but she’d have the last laugh. The Merediths were too stupid to realize she wasn’t a harmless housewife. They hadn’t seen anger like what she was about to unleash. She was about to become their worst nightmare.
Okay, stay focused! Take a deep breath. She breathed in, then exhaled as determination stole over her. A low growl came from somewhere deep inside her as she stealthily made her way down the hill, keeping close to the warehouses. She was ready to tackle anyone or anything that got in her way.
At the bottom of the hill, she glanced around. All clear. She crept to the door and tested the knob. Unlocked. Fools. She eased the door open a crack and surveyed the room.
Winston, Barry, and George loaded a large truck with what were probably stolen goods while Al directed their moves. Of course, he wouldn’t want to get his hands dirty.
She and Conor had been wrong about one thing. They weren’t pulling a heist tonight. It looked more like they were getting rid of the merchandise. She’d told Al the cops were getting close. Coward that he was, Al wouldn’t take a chance robbing anyone else. Better to cash in and lie low.
Her gaze swept the room. Boxes stacked three-high made two short rows down the center of the warehouse. TVs, VCRs, and furniture were scattered about the building. Slowly, she looked around. Her breath caught in her throat. Conor was slumped forward in a high-back wooden chair, his wrists tied to the arms.
They didn’t even bother keeping an eye on him. But then, why should they? Conor was obviously out cold and bound to a chair. What trouble could he possibly cause them? On the other hand, she’d let them see just how angry she could get.
Wait. His head moved. Only a little, but if she wasn’t mistaken, Conor only pretended to be unconscious.
Relief flooded through her. She wanted to hug him around the neck, but first she had to set him free.
She slipped inside, quickly hiding herself behind a row of boxes. Crouching low, she’d almost reached the chair before running out of cover.
“Pssssst.”
Conor’s head jerked around. He squeezed his eyes closed as if the sudden movement had caused him pain. Another reason to make Al pay dearly. She didn’t forgive or forget when someone hurt those she cared about.
This close, he looked better than all right, though. He looked pretty damn fantastic. She waved, smiling at him.
Then frowned.
He didn’t look at all pleased that she’d come to rescue him. In fact, he looked very displeased. Her eyebrows drew together. Of all the ungrateful people—he actually glared at her! She should turn around and leave. Let them dump his carcass in the dirtiest, stinkiest river…
Okay, so maybe she’d go ahead and save his hide, but she expected a thank-you when all this was over. Damn, he really needed to learn that she could handle herself, unless maybe animals were involved, goats in particular. Right now, the only animals she saw were the two-legged kind, and those she could handle a lot better.
As soon as the coast was clear, Jessica scurried to the back of the chair and crouched down, carefully sliding a nearby box closer for more concealment. Now she had ample coverage from the crooks.
“You could at least look relieved.”
“Get out of here,” he snarled under his breath.
Conor quickly lowered his head and continued to watch the burglars from half-closed eyes. At least they hadn’t seen her slip behind his chair.
His head began pounding like drums at a bongo festi val. He’d just thought it hurt before. If they spotted her, she’d be killed right alongside him. His insides spit and hissed like fat on a grill. He tried to blot out the vision of Jessica’s lifeless body, a bullet hole…
That wouldn’t happen. They’d escape. Then she’d be safe.
And he’d kill her!
“The least you can say is thanks. I am risking my life to save your ungrateful butt. By the way, how’s your head? I saw Al whack you.”
“Your friend’s aim was off. I’ll live.” At least he hoped so. He wanted to kill Jessica himself, and he couldn’t do that if he were dead. “Please, get out of here while you still have the chance.”
“Nope. And Al’s no longer my friend. He used me to get information on who to burglarize. I owe him one.”
“Jessica, leave. Now. Go get help.”
“I’m not stupid, Conor.” The man gave her absolutely no credit. If they were going to have a relationship, things would have to change. “I called Dad. They should be on the way and as soon as I give the word, they’ll storm the building.”
“Good, now get the hell out of here.”
“Not without you.”
Why would he think she’d listen to him now when she hadn’t in the past? She wouldn’t leave after George caught them kissing that first day. He should’ve called a halt to the operation then.
“Don’t go to sleep on me, Conor.”
“I’m not asleep.” Aggravating woman.
“Call for backup then.”
“Can’t. I just tried my phone. No signal. Too much metal. I don’t suppose you have a radio handy?”
“It’s clipped to my belt.”
“They didn’t search you?” Surprise laced her words.
“Remember who we’re dealing with.”
“You have a point there.”
“They found my gun and didn’t look any further. They missed the radio. Get it and call for help.”
“Gotcha.”
Her hand slid between the back of the chair and the seat. To his way of thinking, she took an extra long time feeling around until she had the radio undipped. Surely he was imagining things. This was serious. They could both end up dead. Jessica must understand the danger. At least he hoped she did.
“Okay, got it, but I’m not calling until we’re both out of the way of flying bullets.”
He didn’t have time to argue the point. “Then cut me loose, but hurry.” If they became aware someone else had joined
him, he might at least be able to put himself between her and danger.
“Uh, I don’t suppose you have a knife on you?”
She didn’t have a weapon? What had she planned on doing? Throwing the stolen loot at the bad guys? He let out his breath, telling himself to calm down. They might get out of this yet.
“Strapped to my right calf. Try not to cut my leg off when you bring it out of the sheath.”
“Don’t tempt me, or I’ll cut a little higher,” she mumbled.
“What?” He wasn’t sure he’d understood her.
“Nothing. I’ll slide under the chair. See if you can bring your leg back so I can reach it.”
“Wait,” he whispered as Al started to turn around.
Barry said something, drawing the other man’s attention long enough for Jessica to scramble back to her position be hind the chair, and for him to feign unconsciousness again.
Conor tried to make his breathing slower than normal, but it wasn’t easy when his heart raced ninety miles an hour. After a few moments, he glanced through partially lowered lashes.
“Okay. All clear. Jessica?”
“What?”
“If they see you, make a run for it. Don’t look back. Pro mise me.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “Please.”
“Sure thing.”
A couple of grunts and Jessica’s hand snaked inside his pant leg. His muscles tensed as her silky softness caressed him. He bit back a groan. Damn it, this was no time to get sexually aroused. But if she didn’t hurry, that’s exactly what would happen.
All thoughts of making love to her disappeared as she slid the knife from its holder. He kept the blade razor-sharp. He only hoped she realized that one wrong move and she could cut either one of them.
“You can breathe again,” she whispered.
How did she know? She was going to drive him crazy. “Be careful. It’s sharp.”
“Ugh, I hate knives.”
“Tell me again why you became a cop?”
“Very funny, Conor.”
The ropes binding his left arm loosened. He kept still. If they happened to glance his way, it would appear as if he were still bound. A few seconds later and one arm was free.
“I have-a to take a…” George cleared his throat. “I mean, I gotta take a leak. I’ll check on the prisoner.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Al waved him away with a look of dis gust on his face.
Sweat beaded Conor’s brow. He hoped Jessica would have the sense to get the hell out of there if George spotted her. With one arm unbound, he’d be able to hold them off long enough for her to escape. He hoped.
“You are not-a so smart as you think-a, eh?” George spoke in a loud voice. In a whisper, he continued. “I will-a not let them kill-a you, mio amico. You helped me with-a Trudy and I do not-a forget my friends.”
Good old George.
“Are you awake-a, Conor?”
“Yes, I’m awake-a… awake.”
“I will slip-a you the knife to cut-a the rope.” Turning sideways, he glanced back toward Al and his family, then spoke in a louder voice, “Everything is fine. He’s still un conscious.”
“Just do your business and get back to work. I want to leave in the next thirty minutes.” Al looked disgusted that he’d gotten a smudge on his suit and seemed more worried about brushing it clean.
“Yes, sir.”
George slid his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. Keeping it close to his side, he pushed the release button. The blade jumped out, gleaming as it caught the overhead lights.
“Run like-a the wind, mio amigo. Do not look back.” Keeping his gaze on the truck being loaded, George dropped the knife.
Conor inhaled sharply and jerked his legs apart. The point imbedded itself in the wooden seat of the chair, landing a hairsbreadth from making him a soprano. Like a tight wire that’d been twanged, the knife quivered for a few seconds before coming to a halt. A bead of sweat trickled down his face.
George sauntered away without looking back.
Snickers came from behind his chair.
Damn it, this wasn’t funny He eased his hand away and cut the other rope before closing the knife and slipping it in his pocket.
“Do you realize what will happen if you’re caught?” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“You worry too much.”
“Will you please call for backup?”
“If you’ll quit interrupting me. What do you think I’m doing back here? Twiddling my thumbs?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. Arguing with her would only make matters worse. Besides, he didn’t think he’d win.
“Five-twenty-five to five hundred, give us five minutes, then join the party.”
As soon as she let off the mic, he realized her mistake. Static from the radio echoed across the cavernous room.
Al whirled around.
Chapter 21
“Run!” Conor breathed as Al slipped his hand inside
This coat. “For God’s sake, Jessica! Get the hell out of here while you have the chance!”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Too late. Al brought out his revolver. Glancing from side to side, he made his way across the room. Conor kept still so he wouldn’t realize the ropes were cut.
“Who’s there?” Al yelled.
Barry, George, and their father all looked toward Conor. Barry set a box down and picked up a crowbar that leaned against the side of the truck. As he approached Conor, he slapped it against the palm of his hand.
“Now what?” the old man asked.
“I heard something.” Al never took his eyes from Conor’s face. “I see our guest is awake.”
“You probably just heard him,” George supplied.
Al shook his head. “No, it was a scratchy noise.”
“I knew from the start there was something sleazy about you,” Conor spoke loudly, hoping to distract him. “I’m surprised Jessica didn’t pick up on how worthless a human being you are.”
“Not exactly worthless.” Al preened. “I’ve made quite a haul from my export business. And how much easier can it be to case a joint when Jessica’s the one showing the property? Of course, we robbed other houses so there wouldn’t be a pattern.” He laughed gleefully. “But she was nice enough to supply me with plenty of information. Even told me Daddy was getting close. I didn’t realize he was this close, though. But then, you apparently haven’t informed him we’re closing shop, either, or they’d be all over us by now.” He frowned as he dusted a speck of dirt from his white suit.
Stall them. Keep them talking until backup arrived, and he and Jessica might just make it out of this in one piece.
“Why would the chief’s daughter tell you anything?”
“Oh, she didn’t know she was giving away family secrets. But she was proud of her papa and the work he does. It only took a little nudging for her to ramble on about the burglars and the problems they were causing him. A little info here”—he shrugged—”a little there.”
The box behind Conor’s chair tumbled over. He froze.
Al stepped to the side of the chair. His eyes narrowed as his grip tightened on the gun. “Come out from behind there!”
Conor’s guts twisted into knots. “You hurt her, and I’ll make sure you die a slow and painful death.”
Jessica stood. “You really should pick up a little around here. It’s very dangerous having all these boxes in the way. Not to mention the dust.”
How could she act so calm? Didn’t she know what could happen? Even if backup arrived in the next few minutes, bullets were bound to fly. “I told you to run. Why didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “It’s only Al.” Her gaze raked over the other man as if he were an ugly little bug she was about to squash. “Besides, when I run at night my heart rate speeds up and it’s hours before I can fall asleep.”
“Well, you’ll probably sleep good tonight—at the bot tom of a river.” Of all
the females, how the hell had he gotten stuck with her?
“Oh, Conor, don’t be so dramatic.”
Him —dramatic! He clenched his jaw. He’d show her dramatic if they got out of this alive. “Jessica…”
“Shut up!” Al screamed, waving his gun between them. His right hand began to twitch. Conor took a deep breath, hoping Al’s condition wouldn’t spread to his trigger finger.
“Al, you don’t look so good.” Jessica clicked her tongue in feigned concern. “Your face is blotchy.”
“She’s right,” Winston pointed out unnecessarily. “You ain’t gonna throw up or nothin’, are you?”
“No!” Al’s voice hit a note high enough to shatter crystal. “Just shut up! I want everyone to shut up!”
“Hey, what’s that?” Barry bent and picked up the radio Jessica had kicked under the chair.
Al’s eyes bulged. “A police radio, you idiot.” His body began to shake so hard Conor expected him to break into small pieces any second. Oh jeez, and Jessica looked like she was ready to take them all on by herself. When she opened her mouth, he knew instinctively nothing good would come out.
“You’re going down, Al.” Jessica planted her hands on her hips and glared at the quivering leader. “You might as well give up.”
“It’s all your fault! My mother warned me about girls like you.”
“Too bad you didn’t listen.” Jessica smirked.
Al growled as he raised his gun. Conor jumped to his feet just as Jessica twisted her body and kicked. The gun flew out of Al’s hand at the same time Conor landed a thudding punch to the surprised man’s jaw.
“Look out!” Jessica cried.
Barry raised his arm, ready to bring the crowbar down on Conor’s head, but Jessica’s warning gave him enough time to jump and roll out of the way.
In a flash of movement, Jessica brought her arm down in a perfectly executed karate chop. Then, with well-placed aim, she kicked him in the balls. Barry doubled over, gasping for breath.
The old man grabbed her from behind. She bent and dropped to one knee. The elder of the Meredith clan flew over her shoulder, landing with a thud and a grunt.
“I’m your friend!” George’s high-pitched scream echoed through the warehouse. “I gave him a knife.”