He looked up and gave Davy a big, shit-eating grin as he dragged the tip of his knife slowly down Margot’s spine, to the plasticuffs that bound her hands. Snick, and the knife snapped through them.
Davy started at least trying to breathe again.
The goon wrenched Margot to her feet and tugged the blindfold off. Holy shit. That crazy makeup of hers was surreal.
Margot blinked and dragged in a sharp breath as she saw him. She lunged towards him. “Oh, my God, what have they—”
The goon yanked her back. “Huh-uh.” His thick arms snaked around her from behind and cupped her breasts, pinching and squeezing. “Oh, nice,” he crooned. “The boss said I could have all the fun I wanted with you, as long as we do it in front of him.” He jerked his chin towards Davy. “Fine with me. I’ve never minded an audience. Kinky is fun. We’ll have a fine old time.”
Davy finally understood the torture Marcus had in mind. So this was the main event. Marcus had wanted him sharp and alert for it.
Margot’s eyes locked with Davy’s for a moment that was both timeless and horribly brief. Suddenly she changed, as if a switch had flipped inside her. The naked emotion in her eyes that had pierced through him transformed into a brilliant, strangely unfocused smile.
His Margot disappeared. In her place was a smiling, sexy doll.
She twisted, pressing her breasts against the guy’s hands to accentuate her cleavage, and flung her head back against his shoulder. Her eyes glittered as if she had been drugged.
He prayed to God for a chance to rip these sadistic sons of bitches into tiny, bloody pieces. The anger built inside him until the pressure hurt more than any physical pain he’d ever felt.
“You know, if we’re going to get to know each other so quickly, you should tell me your name,” Margot said huskily.
“Karel,” the guy said huskily. He pinched her nipples.
Margot smiled even wider. “I think kink’s fun, too,” she said. “You want to know a secret, Karel?”
“I love secrets.” Karel stuck his tongue in her ear.
A low ripple of laughter shook her. “Back when I was in college, I made extra money lapdancing,” she confided. “I had more regulars than I could satisfy, night after night. I was really good.”
“I just bet you were.” Karel’s hand slid down to her crotch.
She flinched as he grabbed it, and swiftly controlled herself. “Sometimes I miss it,” she went on dreamily. “Feeling a man’s eyes on me while I dance naked. If you want, I could put on a special command performance, just for you, Karel.”
Davy’s lungs burned with the need for air, his muscles burned from straining against the bonds. He hoped to God she had a plan.
Karel looked doubtful. “I don’t need any help getting hard.”
She rubbed her bottom against him. “That’s obvious,” she purred. “I just wanted to give you something…special.”
Karel reached back, pulled out his gun, cocked it. “I think you’re fucking with me, Margaret,” he said. “Don’t try to be smart.”
Margot’s bright red lips curved in an inviting smile. “If I didn’t like playing with fire, do you think I’d be where I am right now?”
“You have a point.” Karel spun her around to face him and kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. “You like it like this?” He pressed the pistol between her breasts, and slid it up to her throat.
She didn’t flinch, so Davy flinched for her. She just kept smiling, as a pistol dug up in the soft spot beneath her chin. The guy kissed her again, and bit her lip, hard enough to make her gasp.
“Just remember,” he said. “The boss has what he needs. You’re expendable now. And after trouble you’ve caused, I think you’re chances of getting expended are real high.”
Margot pouted her soft, red lips at him. “You’re no fun. I don’t want to think about that. I’d rather think about you. This might be my last chance to…you know, have some fun. Let’s make it count.”
“You bet,” Karel crooned, groping her crotch again.
“Let me dance for you,” she coaxed. “Let’s start out like that, for old times’ sake. I’ll be so good. The best you’ve ever seen.”
Karel grabbed a chair and sat down, his gun trained on her. “OK. Go on. Impress me. Just don’t do anything stupid. Or I’ll hurt you.”
She started to move. Davy watched her, with a blend of fear and fascination. She was terrifying, with that wild glow in her eyes. She shimmied and swayed, humming a bluesy tune low in her throat. She moved closer to Karel, began to dance behind his chair.
The pistol went up. She stopped in her tracks.
“Right back in front of me, bitch,” Karel said. “Right where I can see you. And get the dress off.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. She began again, slowly, sensuously tugging and wriggling her overdress up over the slip, over her hips, her belly, her breasts, her neck. The dress covered her head. She seemed to struggle with it for a moment, and when she finally pulled it off, her hair had shaken loose, a wild, shaggy halo.
She swung her leg over Karel’s lap, straddling him. The slip rode up high on her thigh. Karel pushed it higher, stroking her hip with his gun. Margot’s hand flashed up, towards Karel’s face. Suddenly the guy’s eyes went wide. His gun hand went slack, flopping to his side.
What the fuck? Davy watched, astonished, as the weapon thudded to the carpet. Karel’s head lolled back, mouth open.
Margot scrambled off him, backing away. She ran to Davy, prying out his gag. “Oh, my poor baby. Did they hurt you bad? Are you OK?”
He coughed, tried to swallow. “Goddamnit, I told you to run!”
“I don’t follow orders well, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said crisply. “Great to see you again, too. Did you miss me?”
“What the hell did you do to him?” he demanded.
“Later,” she snapped. “I have to find a knife and cut you loose.”
“They took mine. Fuckhead had one, though. Check his pockets.”
She sprinted over to Karel and rummaged through the pockets of his cargo pants. Seconds later she was kneeling behind Davy’s chair, sawing away at the tough plastic.
“Did you really lapdance back in college?” he demanded.
She choked on her nervous laughter. “You are such a dog. You just lost fifty points for asking such a stupid, irrelevant question.”
A disembodied voice came from a loudspeaker on the wall. “Step back and drop the knife, Margaret.”
The doors burst open, on both sides of the room, and several armed men spilled in. A handsome dark-haired man sauntered in after them. “That was even more entertaining than I expected,” he said. “I said to step back. Put the knife down, get up, and walk towards me. Or I will have McCloud shot immediately.”
Margot looked around at the guns, laid the knife down and did as she was told. She might have known it couldn’t be so simple. Now she’d played the last card she had to play. Oh, well. She’d expected this.
Time for Tamara’s chilly, calming mantra. No hope, no fear. Her knees trembled under her, but she tried hard to keep her back straight.
The man raked her with critical eyes. “Your style has changed.”
“Have we met?” Margot kept her voice cool. “How on earth could you know my style before?”
“I saw pictures of you. I studied you, before the Caruso event. I admired you then. So elegant. You look like a crack whore now.”
Margot shrugged. “Being on the run from both sides of the law is hell on a wardrobe,” she said. “I take it you’re Marcus? The sick son of a bitch who murdered poor Craig and Mandi?”
“Oh, harsh words!” Marcus chuckled. “Actually, Faris did the physical deed, the fellow you call Snakey. He’s my younger brother. He’s the warrior of the family. I’m just a mild-mannered scientist myself.”
Margot’s gaze swept the battery of guns trained on her, and Davy’s battered face. “Yeah, I’m so sure,” she muttered. “Mee
k as a lamb.”
“You cut quite a swath with men,” Marcus said in a teasing tone. “Poor Faris, and Karel, too.” He nudged Karel’s shoulder. The unconscious man slid sideways off the chair and flopped heavily to the floor. “And McCloud under your spell. You’re a real femme fatale.”
“Hardly,” Margot muttered.
“You don’t need her anymore,” Davy said. “Let her go.”
Marcus motioned to his men. “Gag him again. He bores me.” He turned back to Margot and shook his head ruefully. “I meant to teach McCloud and Faris both a lesson by having them watch you with Karel. They’re such primal, possessive types. But as usual, you swept the rug from beneath my feet.” Marcus bent down to pick up the tiny spray pin she’d let fall to the carpet while looking for Karel’s knife. He turned it over in his hands and slipped it into his pocket. “Clever little thing.”
“You have what you want,” she said. “Let us go.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Marcus chided. “I’m sure you knew that even before you came. You’re not stupid.”
Stony fatalism propped her up in place of hope. She might as well die with her curiosity satisfied. “So Craig was working with you, then?” she asked. “You guys were running some kind of a scam?”
“No. He did not work with me. He worked for me,” Marcus said sharply. “That little distinction is exactly what got him killed.”
“I see,” she murmured. “He found a way to fool Krell’s sensors?”
“The perfect technique,” Marcus said. “Graceful, streamlined, and it took everything into account, the optical scanner, the ECG, the thermal and pressure sensor, pulse oximetry, electric resistance, the ultrasound, all of it. He truly was a genius.”
“Using a fake hand?” she asked. “Like the one I brought to you?”
“Oh, no. Better. We made a double-layered gelatin glove. The gummy hand is just to quality test the reproduction of the minutia. The BioLock Identipad rejects everything but a warm, live hand with blood pulsing through it. Craig found a way to give it one. He was so gifted. And not just with his brain.” Marcus chuckled. “He even sacrificed his virtue to get the last piece of the puzzle. That bad boy.”
“What puzzle?” Margot struggled to follow him.
“Priscilla Worthington,” Marcus said impatiently. “My esteemed stepmother, the Bitch of Buchenwald. The mold you just provided.”
Realization dawned. “Oh. Wait. Does this Priscilla have long black hair and black lace thong panties?”
“Black hair, yes. As for her panties…” Marcus shuddered delicately. “I don’t want to know. My tissues recoil at the very thought.”
Margot’s feminine instincts told her he was itching to brag. Surrounded with meatheads like Karel and psychos like Snakey, there was probably no one to appreciate what Marcus saw as his genius.
She should use his vanity and solitude to play for time. She tried to look fascinated. “So what will you do with the mold now?”
His gratified smile indicated that she’d read him right. “I’ve been planning this for years,” he said. “Tonight, the video surveillance at Calix Research Laboratories will mysteriously fail. To access the top secret laboratory, the two people with the highest security clearance must present their handprints at the same time. Tonight, according to the Krell BioLock Identipad, they will both do so. They will then remove ten vials of R-8424.” He noticed Margot’s clouded, doubtful gaze. “It’s a flu virus,” he said helpfully. “Very virulent. Quite nasty.”
Margot’s blood would have run cold if it had not already been the consistency of icy sludge. “Dear God,” she whispered. “You’re kidding.”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” Marcus giggled at her reaction. “I’ve seen to it that neither of them will have an alibi tonight. Who knows who they will sell the virus to? No one will be able to answer that question. It’s like a game of Russian roulette, but no one will know who is holding the gun.”
“You’re risking a world epidemic…for money?” Her voice cracked with horror. “What the hell is in it for you?”
The more shocked and horrified she was, the more Marcus liked it. “Revenge, untold wealth and world domination, of course,” he said, his voice jolly. “Years ago, I started devising my plan. I invested in a pharmaceuticals firm that developed a vaccine for R-8424. When the news hits the press, two things will happen. Priscilla will become the most despised, vilified woman in the world—and I will become the richest man.” He beamed. “I’m already immune to R-8424, of course.”
She was too horrified to look admiring.
“I’ve been waiting for months for you to contact me to start negotiations,” he said petulantly. “My contact for the virus was completely out of patience. What on earth were you waiting for?”
I didn’t know you existed. She stifled the words. Foolishly proud, maybe, but she was embarrassed to reveal the extent of her ignorance to this crazy freak. “I didn’t approve of your plans,” she said frostily.
True enough, as far as it went.
“Oh, no?” He grabbed her hand and inspected it. “Small, delicate hands, just like Priscilla’s. Good. You’ll wear Priscilla’s glove tonight. This is all rather hastily improvised, you see. I had no idea when I would finally get my hands on the mold. You showed up just in time.”
“I will not help you do this sick, evil thing,” she said.
“Sure you will. We’ll see how many of McCloud’s body parts I need to remove before you change your mind. I’ll start with his hands, hmm? What do you think? Since hands are the theme of the evening?”
Margot swallowed. He had her, and he knew it.
Marcus clapped his hands briskly. “While my people put final details into place, I propose an entertainment. A duel between your two suitors. I promised poor Faris a last whack at him. If Faris wins, he gets to keep you as a toy, though I suspect he will choke on you. He would have to keep you constantly confined, and probably medicated, too. You don’t strike me as either docile or trustworthy.”
The thought of a vague, horrific captivity stretching into forever made her queasy and faint. “No,” she said. “Not particularly.”
“For Christ’s sake, would you floor the fucking thing? You’re crawling!”
Seth held steady at 86 as he flipped on the turn signal for the San Cataldo exit. “We’ll lose more time getting stopped for speeding that we’d gain by flying off the handle like a couple of jerk-offs.”
“Since when did you become the voice of goddamn reason?” Sean fumed. “I thought I could count on you at least not to be a pussy.”
“It’s your brother out there, and that’s the only reason I won’t slam your sorry ass for saying that. Chill out, or you’ll get us killed.”
Sean dropped his head back and blew out an explosive breath. “Connor should be here. If I fuck this up—”
“It’s not your fault he’s not here,” Seth cut him off. “Connor took off for Paris before you or I or even Davy knew what we were dealing with. Even if he’d turned right around and gotten on the next plane home, he still wouldn’t be back yet. Shit just happens. Calm down.”
Sean stared out the windshield. “I can’t go through it again.”
Seth shot him a worried glance. Seth had lost his own brother less than two years ago. Sean had lost his twin twelve years ago. There was nothing he could say to make the fear any easier to bear.
“Don’t think about it,” Seth said. “You’re just a soldier with a job of work to do. We go in there shooting, we mow those fuckers down, and you’ll feel a whole lot better right away. Got the plan straight?”
Sean’s eyes flicked down to the case at his feet that held the fully automated Mac 10 machine pistols they’d picked out for this adventure, along with several 30-round clips of extra ammo. The Uzis were in the trunk, just for backup. He slanted Seth a derisive look. “Such as it is.”
“Hey, we’re good at improvisation,” Seth encouraged. “We can see through walls with the thermal imagin
g goggles. And we’re almost there, so make yourself useful and get your eyes back on that monitor. Are you sure Davy’s going to remember those signals your dad taught you?”
“Davy’s never forgotten anything in his life,” Sean growled.
“Except for the rehearsal dinner,” Seth pointed out.
Sean grinned, in spite of himself. “Only because he was finally getting laid by a gorgeous babe after months of abstinence.”
Seth cackled appreciatively. “Brain melt.”
“Yeah. And to think that I was the one who pushed him into hooking up with her. God.”
“Who knew?” Seth said wryly. “She’s hot. Who could resist?”
Sean shook his head. “This is the last time I try matchmaking,” he muttered. “That shit can get you killed.”
The goons dragged Davy down through several long, dim corridors. Too bad they’d left his legs tied. He was in the mood to kill someone, or better yet, several someones. He wanted to eviscerate Marcus for what he had done to Margot. Or would have done, if Margot hadn’t been such a magnificent avenging warrior goddess.
He still couldn’t figure out what the fuck she’d done to Karel.
They dragged him into a huge ballroom, vaulted ceilings, glittering crystal chandeliers. The tall windows that lined both sides of the room revealed a thick forest tossing wildly in the stormy breeze. The twilit sky was heavy with clouds. Lightning flashed on the horizon.
They dumped him face first onto the parquet floor. He rolled up into a sitting position. They lifted their rifles. He sank back down.
Thunder rumbled. A teeth-grinding eternity of seconds ticked by.
The door finally opened. Margot walked in, head high. Marcus followed her, holding a pistol on her.
His panther woman. Her eyes met his, bright with emotion. The makeup smudged beneath her eyes made her look feral. Untamed.
What a fucking waste. A woman so tough and brave and special, sucked into this black hole of greed and insanity. His gut ached with fear for her. He couldn’t resist his feelings anymore. He had to face the truth, and truth was standing there in a slip and dirty sneakers.
Out of Control Page 35