Prisoner of Love

by Cathy Skendrovich

  With an icy calm cloaking his fury, Jake concentrated on relaxing the various muscles that had constricted at the thought of Lucy in pain. He had to find that tranquil place, that state of composure he entered before a bust so he didn’t commit some stupid mistake that got him killed. Only now the stakes were higher, because it wasn’t his life he had to protect, it was Lucy’s. His Lucy.

  “Meet me in the basement of the Sirocco in thirty minutes. And, if you value this piece of ass I’m holding, you’d better come alone, or you won’t like what I do to her in retaliation. She won’t resemble anything you’ve ever seen. A half hour.”

  The connection went dead.

  Chest heaving, Jake stared at the dead phone. Delano, Farelli’s favorite henchman, came with a reputation. A bad one. He knew the man didn’t bluff. Jake could call in backup, hell, he could have Vegas SWAT on the site in under ten minutes. But one misstep, one mistake, and Lucy would suffer for it. No. All he could do was go meet him. Meet him, rescue Lucy, and send the bastard to hell where he belonged.

  With his mind presenting and tossing out various scenarios to accomplish those objectives, Jake got ready. He picked up the gun Jerry had left him, which he’d been carrying around like a lifeline to the person he’d once been. Then he rummaged through his backpack and pulled out his own gun. After making sure it was loaded, he stuffed it into his sock, pulled his pant leg over it, and headed out the door. He had a scumbag to kill.

  Lucy trembled on a straight-backed chair, hands tied behind her back, in the basement of a hotel, in what looked to be some sort of sports club undergoing renovation. It was probably another attempt by Sin City to squeeze every bit of money out of visitors and locals alike by modernizing, but for now it simply resembled a chaotic construction zone where the workers had left right at quitting time. Table saws, two-by-fours, steel beams, along with various hammers, screw drivers, and nail and staple guns littered the space.

  The assassin paced the cement floor across from her. Her eyes followed him, gaze riveted on his weapon. She had no idea when he might use it. He had proven to be unpredictable in the short time of their acquaintance. The side of her face paid testimony to that fact.

  “Think he’ll come to your rescue? Were you that good in bed?” He turned and faced her, his soulless eyes boring into hers.

  She shivered, wanting to scream, “You’ll never know,” but thought that might sound too much like a challenge. Instead, she replied scornfully, “I know Jake will come, and he’ll wipe the floor with you.”

  Those dead eyes narrowed on her face. She managed not to cringe, holding still as he stared down into her face. Reaching out, he grabbed her chin, angling her face to gaze into it from his height. She glared back at him. Finally, he let go of her, backed up and said lightly, “I think I understand what he sees in you. There’s quite a fire burning in you for him, isn’t there? Lots of passion, hmm?”

  “Love,” she said. “Lots of love. Something I doubt you could comprehend.”

  His eyebrows spiked, and a fleeting smile crossed his face.

  “You’re right. I don’t love. In my line of work, it’s a hazard. It can get you killed. However,” and here he turned sideways, studying her for long seconds. “However,” he repeated, “it works in my favor today. Want to know how?” His tone resembled an eager child’s. She refused to reply.

  “Of course you do. You just don’t want to tell me. You see, Dalton loves you so much that he will run here in the hopes of rescuing you before I kill you. Even if he doesn’t love you, he’ll play his good ol’ boy cop role to perfection. And I’m going to give him his moment of glory, saving you. And then I’ll kill you anyway.”

  No. She couldn’t let that happen. Because he was right. Jake was coming for her, but it wouldn’t do any good. The madman was going to kill them both. Maybe she could distract him. She had to keep him talking and hope that Jake could use that small advantage to his favor.

  “Why do you want to kill Jake so badly? Do you two have a history?” It was a stupid question, but if she could just keep Delano talking, maybe Jake would hear his voice and somehow take the killer by surprise. Right, and “for the cop’s next magic trick he’d show up with a cannon and blow this guy’s head right off his body!” But it was all she could think of to do.

  Delano pursed his lips and nodded to himself, gun muzzle resting against his cheek like a lazy finger.

  “Do we have a history?” he repeated contemplatively. “I guess you could call it that. You see, Miss Parker, I’ve been Farelli’s right hand man for years now. I’ve also been the FBI’s deepest undercover operative. Adrian Fisk, at your service. The only one to get this close to Farelli and stay close. Everyone else the feebs sent in managed to meet with…accidents.” He laughed uproariously. “Until your boyfriend decided to bumble into my world. He and that greedy partner of his. But I succeeded in throwing most of the blame on Jake. Farelli still thinks Dalton was in cahoots with Tommy and, thanks to that weak bastard, I imagine his department would like a few words with him. Right now Jake’s the man everyone wants. And I’m sitting pretty, with money coming in from both sides—”

  A rumbling noise came to their ears from the service elevator beyond the plastic curtains. His eyebrows shot up, a joyous, Christmas Day enthusiasm crossing his countenance.

  “Here he comes. And right on time. A punctual victim. I appreciate that.”

  “He’s got a gun, Jake!” Lucy screamed. In horror movie slow motion, she watched as Delano turned toward her, raised his gun and snapped off a shot in her direction while bellowing, “Shut the hell up, you interfering bitch!”

  As the gunshot reverberated through the empty space, she wailed hysterically, hunching into a ball on the chair, expecting the bullet to rip a hole through her. Biting her lip until she tasted blood, she waited for the explosion within her body, when she would feel her insides splatter against the confines of her mutilated skin.

  It took precious seconds before she realized she remained whole. No wounds. No fireball of gut-wrenching pain shooting through her, no last thoughts or prayers before eternal oblivion. Yet she continued to cower, rocking in place while saliva seeped from her mouth and silent sobs wracked her body, the aftereffects of staggering terror.

  When she accepted that she was still alive, she lifted her head and stared toward the elevator, the same as Delano/Fisk was doing. The doors of the car slid open and, without warning, Delano/Fisk discharged his gun at it.

  The ricocheting bullets echoed throughout the space, and Lucy started crying all over again. Jake hadn’t had a chance. He’d been a sitting duck in that death car. He’d come to save her but had been killed, and now it was her turn.

  She forced her streaming eyes open, wouldn’t face death with them closed. And then she jumped in surprise when a blur of motion came from the direction of the stairs, straight toward Delano, who was advancing on the elevator with his gun pointed at it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The action movie gambit worked, Jake thought, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as Delano opened fire on the empty elevator. He leaned against the wall and lifted his Beretta. He couldn’t see the double agent from here, but he could see Lucy.

  Crouching low, he burst through the plastic drapes that screened off the construction area, homing in on Delano. As soon as he had him in his sight he fired. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lucy’s head turn toward him, but he couldn’t spare her an encouraging glance. Her life depended on his single-mindedness.

  One of his shots clipped Delano. The asshole staggered and whipped around, murder in his eyes. He looked beyond Jake, raised his gun, and squeezed off a round at Lucy. She screamed, huddling into herself with hands still tied behind her back. She kept screaming as she rocked on the hard chair.

  Jake pointed the Beretta at Delano and fired. He couldn’t miss at this range. He’d kill the asshole—

  It clicked. The clip was empty. Goddamnit! Too late to reach for the other gun. As if in
slow motion, he saw Michael grin and pull the trigger. Oh, shit, Lucy. I’m so damn sorry—

  It clicked just as Jake’s had done.

  Jake’s heart started beating again. The scum-sucker was out of ammo and Jake wasn’t about to give him time to reload. He threw his useless Beretta at Delano’s head, forcing the killer to duck. And then Jake pulled the other gun from his back.

  The bastard jumped into the air and kicked the second gun from Jake’s hand. It skidded across the floor. Damn that ninja bullshit! Forgetting the weapon for the moment, Jake lunged at Delano and threw a haymaker that should have snapped Delano’s head off his neck, but Michael blocked the hit with his forearm. And then he swung a clenched fist the size of a wrecking ball. Jake ducked and charged, gut-ramming the double agent hard. Delano staggered back a pace, but reached out and put his hands on Jake’s shoulders, shoving him away. Then he spun around and kicked Jake in the chin.

  Jake’s teeth clacked together like castanets. He was lucky he hadn’t bit his tongue off from the force of the blow. Pain exploded up his jaw, and he fought not to blackout. He shook his head, which only increased his dizziness. Struggling to keep his eyes open, Jake saw Delano make a run for the loaded Beretta. And he knew Lucy would be the bastard’s target. He. Had. To. Get. There. First.

  He dove for the agent’s legs, tackling him, then lurched to his feet. He had only seconds to snatch up the Beretta, aim, and kill the freaking bastard. Fueled by that knowledge, Jake shouted over his shoulder, “Lucy, drop,” as he grabbed up the weapon and spun around. Praying that for once she obeyed without the usual “Why?” response, Jake aimed and rapid-fired like a video game enthusiast attacking zombies.

  Pow, pow, pow.

  Delano subsided after the first few rounds, his head cracking on the concrete floor. Jake strode toward the downed assassin, gun arm outstretched, finger ready on the trigger. With one quick glance he could see that, yes, Lucy had rocked her chair to the floor when he’d told her to. Good girl.

  Toeing the body and satisfied Delano was one of the not-so-dearly departed, he tucked the Beretta into his waistband, then knelt before Lucy, blocking her view while untying her hands.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He drew her to her knees once he’d released her, cupping her face and thumbing away the tears that seeped out beneath her glasses. She nodded, immediately throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly. Jake cradled her for long minutes.

  “Shh,” he cooed, rocking her. It was over. Somehow, incredibly, they’d beaten the odds.

  “It’s over, Lucy-love. We did it.”

  “I-I thought you were going to d-die, Jake. I th-thought he was g-going to kill you and I couldn’t stand the thought.”

  Aww, hell. Here she’d been near death herself, yet all she’d thought about was him. Did he deserve that type of complete devotion?

  “Wouldn’t ever happen, Lucy,” he said in response, his voice husky. “Now that I’ve got you, I’m sure as shit not going to check out of this life.” He pressed her face against his shoulder. He felt his insides clench at the thought that they still weren’t clear of this mess.

  He might have saved them from Delano’s imminent threat, but he—they—wouldn’t have a chance together if he didn’t clear up his current state of affairs. And he knew without a doubt that, after almost thirty-four years in this world, he’d found someone he didn’t want to say good-bye to at the end of the day.

  So, he detached her vine-like arms from around him and stepped back regretfully. He grabbed hold of her hands and waited until she looked at him. She hiccupped, and he fought the urge to laugh and hug her tight. “Listen to me. You have to get outta here. It’s time I called the cavalry and turned myself in. Right now I’m still suspected of stealing evidence. It’ll take a while to hash out.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. More tears tracked down her face as she slowly shook her head.

  “I don’t care about that, Jake. I—I love you.”

  Oh, hell. He snatched her back into his embrace, crushing her against him with the strength of his emotion. She’d told him all he needed to know with those three little words, and he was going to do his damnedest to prove he was worthy of her love. But that still didn’t change their current circumstances.

  He brushed a kiss on top of her head and set her at arms’ length. “I love you too, Luce. But there’s going to be a lot of fallout from this mess, and I don’t want you a part of it. If they want me, they’ll have to leave you alone. That’s the only deal I’m making. But I’ve broken a shitload of laws and rules, and it’s gonna take forever to sift through.”

  Still she hesitated.

  “You need to leave, sweetheart—”

  And then they heard it. The sound of the freight elevator. Someone had heard the gunshots, probably hotel security. The half-empty Beretta Jerry had supplied was still hidden at the small of Jake’s back, while Fisk had fallen on the Glock as well as onto Jake’s empty gun. He barely had time to shove Lucy behind him before the plastic curtains parted and Anton Farelli, flanked by bodyguards carrying enough firepower to free a small country, stepped through them.

  “Hello, Nicky.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The drug king looked just as slithery as ever, Jake noted with a sinking feeling. His hair, businessman-gray at the temples, was slicked back from his forehead with enough oil to coat all the choices at a salad bar. His open-necked dress shirt in dove gray displayed gold chains glittering on a spray-tanned chest sprinkled with hair.

  He gave the impression of a typical mobster movie character except that the company he kept compensated for his unoriginality. His bodyguards wore black suits while carrying their deadly weapons against their chests. They stared right through Jake.

  Farelli passed Jake and Lucy, who pressed up against Jake’s back like she wanted to crawl inside him. The warmth of her body reminded him that he had more than just himself to consider in this situation. It was sobering.

  The drug lord circled Delano’s body, cocking his head. Jake knew he couldn’t have heard much, if anything, of their discussion and subsequent blowout, so he bet Farelli was wondering what the hell had gone down between them. He just hoped his former boss wouldn’t think it was a falling out between thieves, even if that’s what it looked like.

  When the older man shrugged and moved away from the corpse without a word, Jake was a little surprised. Delano had worked closely with his boss, yet his death brought no more response beyond mild curiosity? Cold. Farelli was stone cold.

  In front of them once more, the mobster motioned with one languid hand and a gun-wielding guard stepped forward, reached past Jake, and grabbed hold of Lucy’s arm. Jake controlled the knee-jerk reaction of punching the guy in the face. Schooling his features into what he hoped was an emotionless mask, he stared straight ahead as Lucy stumbled by him.

  He knew she was waiting for him to do something, anything to show her he cared, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Doing so would put a bigger target on her than she already had. If he displayed any concern toward her, Farelli would understand she was important to him and would capitalize on it. Jake couldn’t afford that. She meant too much to him. Besides, the drug king was a sadistic bastard.

  “Nicky, what the hell happened here?” Farelli stepped forward now, hands in his trouser pockets. Two of his henchmen, who looked like they’d been drinking protein shakes since the womb, took up positions on either side of him. At least Jake’s cover identity seemed to be intact, judging by the name the drug lord had called him by.

  “Delano was your Judas, boss,” he said quickly. “He’s been taking from you for a year. I found it out for you. He tried to bribe me so I wouldn’t tell. Said he would even give me part of his take if I kept quiet.”

  Farelli nodded. The lie had come easily to Jake and it seemed to be working. He avoided looking at Lucy while waiting for the drug lord’s response. She wasn’t a good liar. But he was when the situation warranted it.

  P
ausing, Farelli leaned into Jake. “Where’s the gun?” he asked in a moderate tone.

  Jake jutted his chin toward the body. “He fell on it.” He was going to lose the Beretta under his shirt, Jake figured. No way would they not eventually search him. It was only a matter of time.

  Farelli studied him for a long minute. Christ, the silence was killing him. Though he made sure his outward expression didn’t change. Glancing down, the older man began twisting a flashy ring upon his little finger. Jake had to bite the inside of his jaw to keep from saying anything.

  “I don’t believe your story.” Without any other warning than that, Farelli backhanded Jake across his face, his gold and diamond signet ring cutting open a good chunk of his cheek in the process. In the split second before the pain hit, he heard Lucy stifle a cry.

  “Aargh,” Jake exclaimed as his head nearly did that Linda Blair/Exorcist thing. He started to reach toward his face, but one of the guards grabbed him by the elbows and pulled them behind him. Blood trickled from his cheek and onto the concrete floor. Head bowed, vision blurring from tears of pain, Jake stared at the widening puddle for a long moment before looking up once more.

  Farelli strolled away from Jake while his men ranged themselves around the space, guns at the ready. Jake sucked in deep breaths, willing the pain away, leaning forward as the drug lord spoke in an undertone.

  “That’s a good story, Nicky. But you know what I think happened? I think it was a disagreement between two pumped up shits who had been stealing from their boss. I think one of you wanted a bigger part of the take, and this is the result of that argument. I took both of you in, all three of you, counting Tommy, trained you in lucrative positions, and the three of you thank me how?”

  During his deliberate pause, Farelli pulled out a snowy handkerchief from his inner suit pocket and began wiping Jake’s blood off his hand, finger by finger. This took several seconds, during which Jake’s heart rate quadrupled in his chest, until Farelli cast a mildly disapproving look at him. “You steal money from me.”