by Debra Webb
The moist, heavy air caressed her skin, and she dragged in a breath. The sweet, milky smell of the carnations bordering the lawn tickled her nose just like on any other night.
But this was not any other night.
The helicopter had landed on the lawn, its blades whirring and stirring up debris that danced in the air. If her grandmother were still alive, Randi would go to her, but she’d died over a year ago and still Randi had stayed for the sake of the children. Now Nicky and Angelina had been ripped from her arms.
She heard voices and shuffling outside the nursery door, and she spun around to face the room. The door handle turned slowly, transfixing Randi’s gaze. She held her breath.
Montaña, one of Zendaris’s henchmen, poked his head into the room. In the three years she’d been in Mr. Zendaris’s employ, she hadn’t figured out if Montaña was this man’s real name or a moniker given to him for his size—as big as a mountain. His eyes widened as they scanned the room. Then he caught sight of her on the balcony.
The look he sent her sucked the air from her lungs. She took an involuntary step back.
“W-what do you want? What’s going on?”
Montaña grinned, his gap-toothed smile sending a wave of fear crashing through her body. Montaña never smiled.
He took one lumbering step into the room. The knots in Randi’s stomach tightened, putting pressure on her lungs and nearly cutting off her breath. She felt for the railing behind her and glanced over her shoulder at the drop into darkness.
Clenching her fists, she swung her hands in front of her. “Where is Mr. Zendaris? I demand to see Mr. Zendaris.”
The mountain pointed beyond Randi’s shoulder into the night, toward the whining helicopter.
She swallowed. “Where are the children? I need to see Nicky and Angelina before they leave. I always help them pack.”
Again, like the grim reaper, Montaña silently raised his arm and pointed out the window.
Could she bluster through this? The man was an idiot, a big lump of clay. At least she could outrun him. Dash around him and find someone, anyone with a bit of reason.
Why would Mr. Zendaris want to harm her? The children loved her and she loved them back. He’d commented on it many times in the past. He’d believed the hand of fate had intervened when Randi had shown up in Colombia with her grandmother on the one-year anniversary of his wife’s death.
She clamped her hands on her hips and stamped her bare foot. “I’m going to find the children. I’m going to say goodbye to them. Then I’m going to report you to Mr. Zendaris. This is an outrage.”
Shrugging, the man lifted his hands and wandered into the room. He bent over from his great height to scoop up the book of fairy tales, in which he could easily star as an ogre. He flipped the pages once, twice, and then tossed the book onto the chair where Randi had been sitting, reading to Nicky and Angelina.
Were they really already on the chopper? Was Angelina afraid?
Randi’s heart ached. Then she gritted her teeth. “I’m leaving. You have no right to keep me a prisoner here.”
She marched from the balcony into the room, heading for the chair where she’d kicked off her shoes. She unwound the scarf from around her neck and draped it over the back of the chair, reaching for her shoes.
Montaña grunted and slipped a gun from his pocket.
Randi straightened to her full height and pulled back her shoulders. “I’m telling Mr. Zendaris about this right now.”
Could Montaña hear the quaver in her voice? Did he even care? He must be here on Zendaris’s orders. The man did nothing without Zendaris’s approval.
Montaña advanced on her, holding the gun in front of him.
Randi backpedaled to the balcony, scuffing her heels. A bead of sweat ran down her face. Now the sweet, cloying scent of the flowers smelled like death.
Her feet hit the rough tile of the balcony and still she backed up toward the railing.
Small footsteps galloped up the stairs amid yells and screams. Nicky and Angelina burst into the room, sobbing and screaming. “Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Randi!”
“Get back! Leave!” Randi thrust out her hands, even though the kids seemed miles away from her.
Montaña growled and charged toward Randi, pointing his gun in the general direction of her head. Both of the children attacked his legs, and Nicky lunged forward to grab his arm just as he was squeezing off a shot.
Red-hot pain seared Randi’s left arm and she toppled backward. The railing cracked beneath her. The children screamed. Randi threw out her arms. They whirred like the blades of a helicopter as she fought to keep her balance.
She lost.
ISBN: 9781460320235
Copyright © 2013 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:
READY, AIM...I DO!
Copyright © 2013 by Debra Webb
MISSING
Copyright © 2011 by Debra Webb
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