And afterward, he would get his answers.
Chapter 5
Isaac Rutler surrounded himself with the best money could buy. Paintings, cars, clothes. Assassins.
Three of them to be exact, but he only had eyes for one.
“Am I boring you, Ms. Banvard?” He paused his slide show and waited for an answer he’d never get. Adelaide Banvard remained mute, but Isaac considered it one of her best assets.
She ignored him, trailing her fingers across the cherrywood conference table slowly, as if she hadn’t even heard him. Her expression gave him nothing.
He was familiar with the frustration it brought on. Men who wore expressions like Adelaide’s were the ones who had taken his wife from him. Isaac gripped the remote in his hand, nearly crushing the plastic. Grief threatened to overtake him.
“You’re Adelaide Banvard?” a whisper interrupted.
Isaac regained his senses, pushing the memory of Charlie’s funeral underneath an empty expression of his own. You’re nothing like them, he told himself. You’re smarter.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” The flamboyant gun-for-hire from the South leaned closer to Adelaide, his bright green and orange hair standing out. “I’ve always dreamed of meeting you.”
Adelaide didn’t respond.
The meeting had gotten off topic.
“If you’ve heard so much about her, Mr. Veras, don’t get so close.” Isaac’s eyes darted to the woman who could snap at any second. A monster lurked underneath her scarred exterior, one who’d filleted a man with a blade, and Isaac would use her for everything she was worth.
Adelaide’s gaze hadn’t deviated from the conference table.
“I’m offering fifty thousand to whoever can bring Torrhent Lynd to me alive. Kill her, and you get nothing,” Isaac finished. The projector wheezed silent after a few seconds. He stood motionless, hating that the people he despised the most were the only ones who could bring this all to an end.
Though weapons had been confiscated at the door, the look Adelaide gave the others told Isaac she didn’t need a weapon for what she wanted to do.
A smiled played at the corners of her mouth. “Ms. Banvard,” Isaac scolded.
Her eyes lingered on the orange and green dye job before turning to Isaac slowly.
“Miles is not something to eat.” He couldn’t afford to lose another round in the game he played. He needed all the pawns he could get. “Are there any questions?”
“We just sat through an hour-long presentation about a girl who is being hunted by the FBI as much as we are, and you want us to bring her back alive?” another asked. “It’d be safer to just kill the bitch.”
Isaac leveraged his weight against the conference table, knuckles down. “If you kill her, you don’t get paid. Is that clear?”
Both men nodded at him as Adelaide merely traced a pattern into the table.
“Good. Now get out of my house.” He turned, addressing Nicholas as the killers filed out the door for their bounty. “Where are the photos?”
His personal bodyguard handed him a manila folder.
Isaac shuffled through the colored photos. A man he’d never seen before traveled beside his stepdaughter. “Is this him?”
“He’s been going by the name John Harrington for the last two years.”
His eyes darted toward the petite murderer across the conference room. Adelaide couldn’t hear their conversation. Isaac moved them closer to the door. “I’m placing a lot of faith in her. I want a backup plan.”
The scar running from the top of Nicholas’s skull to the bottom of his chin pulled down at his eye, giving him a cruel expression. “What did you have in mind?”
“Bring Mr. Richards in here.” Isaac watched Adelaide’s finger freeze on a single spot along the table. Rumors of the monster inside her mind had spread since Christian Wren set her loose on a federal agent, but it was how Wren did it that interested him now. He studied her carefully, memorizing every feature of her petite form. “And call the carpet cleaner.”
Nicholas nodded and left.
Isaac stepped closer to his prize, staring down onto her head of white-blonde hair. With a weapon like Adelaide, he would skyrocket to the top of the underground crowd. No one would stand in his way with her by his side, but he had to control her first.
Muffled pleas and scuffling footsteps echoed down the hallway. With a single push, Nicholas forced Devon Richards into the conference room. Hands tied, mouth taped, Devon stumbled inside, dried tears crusting on his face.
“Sit,” Isaac demanded.
His prisoner followed the order and a pang of pride shot through Isaac’s chest. Control. That’s all he needed. With Adelaide involved, he’d have Devon telling him his darkest secrets soon, and, hopefully, the female’s loyalty. Nothing else mattered at this moment.
Nicholas leaned back against the wall, arms over his chest, ready at a moment’s notice.
“Are you ready to tell me what I want to know, Devon?” He made a lazy circle around the conference table, watching Adelaide assess the prey in front of her. He’d heard of her undeniable attraction to blood and wondered if the rumors held truth. From the slow journey her tongue made across her bottom lip, he had his answer.
Isaac stopped at the head of the table, keeping both predator and prey in sight. Nothing could be more perfect. “Do you know who this is?”
A shake of the victim’s head nearly ripped a laugh from Isaac’s throat.
“So you haven’t heard the rumors.” Isaac couldn’t keep the chill at the base of his spine from spreading. Even without the duct tape on his mouth, Devon wouldn’t talk. They’d already pulled his back teeth, broken his nose and taken the tips of his fingers. Only one option remained. Isaac turned his attention to his new toy as anticipation clawed up his throat. “I have someone I want you to meet, Adelaide.”
* * *
Torrhent stripped off her tank top and underwear, both of which were in desperate need of a washing, and stepped into the shower.
The hot water seared her skin, but as it grew more comfortable she relaxed into the spray. She let it wash away the grime and dirt for a few minutes before washing her hair and body. No guards watching. No fellow inmates to impress. Totally alone. Exactly what she needed.
There wasn’t a razor around she could see, but she’d live without shaving if she had to. She’d done it before. She searched harder, opening the shower curtain to peek around the bathroom.
It was small but well kept, and better than the rest stops. The tile was clean, the counter uncluttered, but no razor.
“He must use an electric shaver.” She put the subject out of her mind.
As clean as she would get, Torrhent stepped out, leaving her hair to dry on its own. She tried to tuck the short locks behind her ear, wondering if her captor would notice her hairy legs.
Captor. She scoffed at the word.
Her plan had taken an unexpected turn. On the one hand, she’d succeeded in gaining Harrington’s help. On the other, it seemed he was determined to be in charge. She’d allow it, to a point. They still had to make it back to New York, and the trip would take a few days at least. She didn’t exactly look forward to it, but public transportation was out of the question. Too many prying eyes.
They’d have to drive. Long hours. Enclosed spaces. With a killer. The thought forced goose bumps to pimple on her cooling skin. She wanted nothing more than to get back in the shower.
She grabbed for a towel rack to balance herself, but it was too late. Her feet slipped against the tile and she went down, landing flat on her back. The sound of her skull hitting the tub sent vibrations throughout her entire body.
There was a knock on the door. “Everything okay?”
She tried to breathe evenly. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” Harrington said through the door. “Are you dressed?”
Torrhent pushed herself from the floor. “Don’t come in.” Supporting her weight against t
he toilet, she made it to the vanity. “Oh, shit.” A lump began to form on the back of her head.
“What?”
“Nothing!” She listened to his steps fade as she dried the rest of her body.
Another knock on the door made her jump. “Here.”
“What?” she asked skeptically.
“Just open the door and find out.”
Hiking the towel around every inch of exposed skin she could, Torrhent carefully unlocked the door. She pulled it open an inch.
“I brought you these.” Harrington stared in at her, his electric blue gaze roaming down her body. It sent heat into her face and smoothed the bumps on her arms. He lifted a piece of black cloth up to her eyes and pushed his arm inside. “They won’t fit, but it’ll have to do until you can wash your clothes.”
She took the pile from him and muttered a quick thank-you. Her stomach ached with the sentiment he’d shown her. She shut the door in his face and locked it again.
“It’s Monday,” she shouted through the door. “Don’t you have a job to go to or something?”
She’d been a fugitive for exactly one week. With everything she’d been through in the past week, she couldn’t imagine what lay ahead or if she’d live to see it. The idea made her nauseous.
“Just get dressed.”
The clothing he’d handed to her were women’s, but larger. She couldn’t decide if the black T-shirt and red shorts revealed that a woman lived in the apartment or if John Harrington collected women’s clothing. Neither seemed any of her business.
She opened the door.
“Better?” he asked from the couch. His eyes focused on the television, sounds of the familiar voice of Agent Trullio carrying over to her.
“Yes.” She stared down at the wad of clothing in her arms and felt half naked without a bra or underwear. A breeze shifted the air in the room and she shivered against her will. “Thanks again.”
“Have a seat.” He pointed to a recliner. “You’ll want to see this.”
Her feet shuffled across the floorboards. Torrhent tried to hide the anxiety crawling down her spine. His tone forced her feet to move.
The local news reporter’s voice grew louder with a touch of a button.
Again, if you’re just joining us here, Torrhent Lynd has moved to the number two spot on the FBI’s most wanted list. Any information you have on her whereabouts should be reported to Agent Karen Trullio of the FBI. The second anchor took over. The convicted murderer was last seen with this man.
Harrington’s picture took residence beside hers.
“Oh, my god!” Torrhent bolted to her feet, the lump from the bathtub almost splitting her head in two. She automatically cradled it as she winced in pain.
He got off the couch as she bent over. “What happened to your head?”
Taigen Banvard has been suspected in three murders and is currently up on charges for aiding and abetting. If you have any information, please call the number at the bottom of the screen.
Her eyes darted toward the screen, ignoring his question. She read the screen again. “Taigen Banvard?”
She looked back at him, making sure the picture matched the man less than a foot away. A flurry of emotions bloomed in the center of her chest in record time: confusion, betrayal, anger, but nothing compared to the pain in her head.
“Is that your real name?” she groaned.
“Let me see your head.” He got up from the couch, reaching toward her. His fingers traced a line from the nape of her neck to the lump.
She felt the warmth of his breath as their pictures stared back at her in silence. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t trusted her with the truth. Why should he trust you? You’re a convicted murderer, you idiot. “Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Torrhent tried to squirm away from his touch, but he held her still. She didn’t wait for his answer. “So your name is Taigen Banvard?”
“It’s just a bump.” He pulled away, heading into the kitchen. “It should go down in a couple of hours.”
He hadn’t answered her question. His icy tone told her he didn’t want to talk about it, and gaining his trust was the most important element of her plan.
“We leave tonight,” he called to her. “You can rest until then.”
Torrhent sat back down, her body sinking from the exhaustion she’d been pushing back for hours. Rest would have to wait. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer we just get on with the reason you brought me here.”
“As you wish.”
The words sent a chill down her spine, reminding her of her favorite book. He moved closer, the smell of cinnamon enveloping her. Taigen sat on the coffee table in front of her. He was too close and radiating heat from even two feet away. He shifted again, his shoulders tensing. His lips pursed as he thought over his next words and she found herself staring absently, wondering what they would feel like. “Who was the guy at the jail?”
Torrhent wrenched herself back into reality. “I don’t know. He’s been following me since Vegas, at least. Saw him in Phoenix, too.”
“What does he want with you?”
She shrugged. “Hard to say. I’m sure my stepfather has something to do with it though.”
“You mean Isaac Rutler?” A chuckle escaped his throat. He rubbed his face with both hands, almost as if he were exasperated with the situation. “All right. Tell me more about him. Why would he send a hit man after you?”
“Because he set me up for a murder I didn’t commit and he didn’t expect me to escape. Other than that, I don’t know anything else.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze targeted on her. “In that case, I don’t need you.”
Taigen rose, wrapping his fingers around her bicep, and pulled her to her feet.
She tried to wrench her arm free. “What are you doing?”
“I know a nice agent with the FBI who’s been looking for you.”
* * *
“You wouldn’t turn me over.” She ripped her arm out of his grip. The fear seeping into Torrhent’s eyes was the first of a long series of tells slowly sliding across her face as they stopped in the middle of the floor. “I don’t even think you’d give me to Isaac.”
“You assume a lot.” His hand burned where her skin had met his and he didn’t know what to make of it. Taigen’s chest ached, his pulse racing with the contact.
“You would turn me over to a murderer just for information?”
“I might kill you for less.” It wasn’t a lie. He had killed for less.
Torrhent swallowed hard, studying him as if she was trying to call his bluff. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“Every word.”
“And if I just leave right now?”
“If you give me the information I want, I’ll do everything I can to see that you’re safe,” he answered honestly. “But if you leave, I can’t protect you, and either the FBI or Dear Old Dad will find you sooner or later. It’s up to you.”
“I’ve done pretty good on my own.”
“And you’ve already been caught once.” Taigen stepped away from her, crossing his arms across his chest. He had a full view of her body in the too-large clothes he’d lent her. Her legs seemed to go on for miles, her tanned skin glowing with anger. “What’s it going to be?”
Her expression grew distant as she considered her options. “Fine. I knew Isaac would send someone for me, but I didn’t think it’d be so fast.” Gray eyes connected with his and a tingling started at the base of Taigen’s spine. “He wants me back in New York. I don’t know why yet, but I don’t intend to find out. That’s why I picked you.”
The tingling disappeared as his muscles tensed. “Picked me?”
“The guys my stepfather employs . . . they’re . . . they’re like you, okay? I hoped you’d break me out of jail to protect me.”
“Keep going.”
“What else do you want from me? I told you everything I know.”
&
nbsp; “I want to know why Isaac Rutler has Adelaide!” He was two inches from her face by the time he finished and he’d lost his control somewhere around the words What else do you want.
Torrhent stepped away from him, snapping her mouth shut. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Then tell me who does.” He stepped into her when she didn’t answer right away. “Listen to me, if I don’t find her, hundreds of people could die. Do you want that on your conscience?”
She swallowed again. “I don’t know what he wants with her.”
Taigen believed her for once. “Then convince me I didn’t break you out of jail for nothing.”
“How?” Her tongue darted across her lips, pushing Taigen’s heartbeat faster.
“Tell me how to get her back.”
“Fine, but I want something in return.” Torrhent crossed her arms over her chest, accentuating every curve he’d imagined underneath the baggy shirt.
“You’re kidding, right?” Taigen tried to control his breathing. Dozens of women threw themselves at him every week, but there was something about Torrhent Lynd that made his blood pressure spike. “I’ve already broken you out of jail, let you hide out here. Use my shower. What else could you possibly want?”
“I want a gun.” Her eyes refused to deviate from him. “And money.”
He tried to hide a smile, but failed. She had balls. “All right. How much money?”
“Five thousand.”
“That’s a lot for a . . . what? Twenty-two-year-old?”
“Twenty-six,” she corrected. “And five thousand is nothing. Do we have a deal?”
“Keep talking.” He had more than one reason for asking, but wasn’t about to tell her the sound of her voice soothed the ache in his soul. She was right. Five thousand didn’t compare to his sister’s life, but what Torrhent didn’t understand was that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She couldn’t just tell him how to get his sister back.
He’d use her as leverage.
Die for Me Page 7