by Tee O'Fallon
She stepped into the dress and put her arm through the one-shoulder opening. Somehow she’d known he hadn’t really been fired by the NYPD. He believed in his job too much, and everything about him screamed cop. Being a detective and fighting the bad guys was so ingrained in both he and Gray, she now understood he’d do anything for the job. Even use her.
Reaching behind her, she yanked up the zipper with more force than necessary. She sat on the bed to slip into a pair of silver beaded stilettos, then stood in front of the mirror. “Not bad.” The dress looked damn good, even to her, and she was normally uber-critical of her body.
The sexy one-shoulder column sheath hugged her breasts, waist, and hips in a way that gave her a flattering hourglass figure. And holy hell, does my waist look tiny? The fabric’s subtle ruching did wonders to accentuate her curves, and the slit on one side that went nearly to her ass displayed her long, toned leg in ways she’d never dreamed of. Then again… Daisy scrunched up her face and dashed to the bathroom as quickly as three-inch stilettos allowed, then stepped on the bathroom scale, shoes and all.
“Oh my God.” She stared in disbelief. “I’ve lost eight pounds.” The ruching certainly contributed to the dress’s killer look, but she’d actually lost weight.
Looking back over the last two weeks, she hadn’t realized the immense stress that had become part of her life. With the Piazza reopening and Dom coming back into her life, she’d been on edge almost every waking hour. And to deal with it she’d increased her Body Combat regimen from three to five times a week.
The cell phone she’d left on a table in the living room began ringing. Stepping off the scale, she hustled to take the call in case there were any last-minute problems with the hotel flowers. When she picked up the phone and looked at the screen, she froze. It was Dom. She held her breath until the call went to voicemail. When it did, she saw that he’d called twice in the last hour.
Don’t do it. Do not call him back.
Very gently, she set the phone on the table. If she didn’t exorcise him from her life once and for all, he’d tear out her heart all over again. Staring at the phone a moment longer, she saw that Jack had also called, but had left no message.
Jack. Another lying bastard.
The idea that she’d had a hired killer working for her made her sick to her stomach. And was it truly a coincidence that Jack had walked into her shop the day after Gus had been seriously injured by a hit-and-run driver? Nausea built in the pit of her stomach as she realized it wasn’t. Jack had hurt Gus horribly, if not tried to kill him outright.
My God, I actually went on a date with him. I even let him kiss me.
Without listening to Dom’s voicemail, she returned to the bathroom and gripped the edge of the vanity, trying not to throw up. She honestly didn’t know what to make of it all.
Dom had said the Piazza’s grand reopening today would be canceled because the Pyramid had targeted Christopher Shane, but she’d spoken directly with Andrew earlier this morning and confirmed the event was still on as scheduled. Andrew had seemed surprised at her inquiry, so what did that mean? Dom had warned her to stay away from the hotel, but was he wrong about this whole thing? He had to be. Either way, she suspected Dom would be there in case anything happened.
“Dammit.” She parked her fists on the vanity. No one would keep her from that hotel. She’d worked too hard for this event, and she intended to be there. She’d earned it.
She leaned toward the mirror to reexamine her makeup. A heavy application of eyeliner and mascara made her eyes appear sultry and sexy while the shimmery, pale pink lipstick accented the silvery beads and sequins running up the sides of her dress. Long three-inch rhinestone drop earrings dangled from her ears, and a thick matching bracelet completed the ensemble.
Daisy took a deep breath. “I can do this. I. Can. Do this.”
The doorbell rang and she gasped, startled and yet thankful for the interruption. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. A man wearing a ball cap stood outside her door. With his back to the door, she couldn’t see his face, but in his arms he carried of all things—flowers.
If he thinks all he has to do is send me flowers…
She twisted the lock and pulled the door open, preparing to decline the delivery.
The man turned and smiled. “Ms. Fowler,” he said.
She noted his use of her name was a statement, not a question, as if he already knew who she was. And how did he get into her building? Sure, Dom had managed to gain entry without buzzing her apartment first, but she already knew him to be persuasive and charming enough to gain entry to just about anywhere. Then again, delivery guys posed no threat and were often let in by other tenants, too.
“Yes,” she answered, feeling somewhat more at ease. “Are those for me?”
The man took a step forward, even though she hadn’t invited him in. And she couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about his body language put her instantly on edge. Then his smile disappeared, and the look in his eyes went from pleasant to mean. Every instinct in her body told her this man meant to do her harm.
She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, but he’d stuck his boot between the door and the jamb. The door bounced back in her face, and she wobbled for a second on her stilettos before falling on her ass on the hardwood floor.
“Help! Somebody help me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, praying someone would hear her. But it was Sunday, and she already knew most of the other tenants in her building were at church this time of the morning or away for the weekend.
The man calmly stepped inside and threw the bouquet of flowers to the floor. Daisy found herself staring up at the barrel of a black gun.
Her heart slammed against the inside of her ribs and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. When he kicked the door shut behind him, she began scrambling backward, her heels unable to get traction on the wood floor.
The man made a grab for her arm. Breathing hard, she screamed again. The long slit in her dress bared her leg, and she kicked straight out at his chest in full-on Body Combat mode. “Take that, asshole.”
He staggered backward, grunting as her sharp heel dug into flesh and bone. “Bitch.”
She got to her knees and crawled away before getting to her feet and running to the other side of the room. Her first thought was that this fucker was going to rape her, then shoot her. Then Dom’s warning rang loudly in her ears. Someone had been outside, watching her apartment last night.
The Pyramid.
Whoever he is, I sure as hell won’t make it easy on him.
Sucking in long draughts of air, she turned to find him advancing on her. The gun was still pointed in her direction, and he seemed to be taking his time. He rubbed his chest where she’d kicked him, and his lips curved into a greasy, smarmy smile. Bile rose in her throat, and she clenched her hands into fists. She understood the intent behind that smile. This man was a predator.
Predator. The word jogged a memory, and in that instant she recognized him. She’d labeled him as a creepy predator once before.
“I know you,” she said more to herself than to him. “You were at the shop. Talking to Jack.”
“I’m happy to hear I made an impression on you.” He kept advancing, and with every step he took, she took two, gripping the back of the sofa.
He’s stalking me. Like I’m a helpless deer and he’s a lion getting ready to pounce.
And her pepper spray was tucked away in her handbag in the bedroom. Not that it would do her much good against a speeding bullet.
Her heart skipped madly, but she realized if he’d wanted to kill her he would have done it by now. Fear crept up her spine. Whatever he wanted, it was bad. Really bad.
She recalled that morning when she thought she was being followed. By him. “Have you been following me?” The thought made her even more sick to her stomach.
“Honey, I’ve been watching you for days.” He licked his lips. “I know you’ve been fucking
the cop. Jack won’t be happy about that. He wants to fuck you, too.”
Daisy took another step backward, and her heel nearly slipped out from under her as she rounded her big overstuffed armchair. It occurred to her that he’d referred to Dom as cop, not ex-cop. So did he know Dom was undercover?
No amount of Body Combat would get her out of this. Knowing she didn’t stand a chance against an armed man, her muscles began to shake violently and her voice trembled. “What do you want from me?”
“I want a lot of things.” His mouth twisted into an evil, sadistic grin, and his eyes slid down and up her body. “Sadly, there’s no time. You, sexy thing, are insurance.”
Even though she was sweating, her blood ran cold. “Insurance for what?”
“So your boyfriend will do exactly as he’s told.” He lunged for her, but she whipped around and grabbed the nearest thing she could throw at him—a terra cotta flower pot.
He cursed as it caught him on the shoulder, giving her time to put more distance between them. She grabbed another pot and threw that one at him, too. He ducked and the pot smashed into the wall, shattering into pieces.
Daisy vaguely heard the shards hit the floor as she spun and began hurling pot after pot at him as he advanced on her. Soon every pot in her living room lay in pieces on the floor. Her chest heaved, and she was out of breath. She made a desperate lunge for the door, but he was on her before she could turn the knob.
Something sharp pricked her arm.
She let loose with a right cross and slammed her fist into his jaw. He cursed as she reared back for a jab to his gut. But her fist never made contact.
The room blurred. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and it wasn’t because of her high heels. Staggering, she reached for the door. An arm came around her waist, and she was propelled into the hallway.
Hot breath washed over her face. “That’s better,” he said. “Now we’re going to take a little drive.”
The freight elevator doors opened, and he half carried, half dragged her inside. She flailed her arms to no avail. She could barely get them to move.
No, no, no, she wanted to scream but couldn’t. The only sounds coming from her mouth were incoherent.
The elevator doors opened, and he shoved her out and into the alley behind her building. Outside, cool air hit all the exposed parts of her body. Vaguely, she noticed a white van with what could have been the Magellan Foods logo on the side. The van’s door slid open, then her feet left the ground as she was carried inside the van and dumped onto something hard. Her head lolled to the side, and she realized she was inside a box. A large wooden crate, to be exact.
Something warm squeezed her bare thigh and began rubbing up and down. His hand. She wanted to puke. Wanted to pummel his face with her knee. She was conscious, but her limbs wouldn’t respond to her brain’s signals. And she was sleepy, so, so sleepy.
“That’s right. Take a nap.”
And she did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dom slammed the truck’s door shut and charged to the uniformed officer standing at the bottom of the stairs to Daisy’s building. Not recognizing the cop, he tugged the spare detective shield from his pocket and badged him, hoping the guy didn’t know him or the fact that technically, he’d been fired from the NYPD. “Did Daisy Fowler leave this building?”
“No, sir.” The cop came to attention, clearly flustered by the unexpected appearance of a first-grade detective. “Detective Yates texted me a picture of her, so I know she hasn’t left.”
Dom drew his brows together. Could be Daisy was ignoring his calls, but something still bugged the shit out of him. “When’s the last time you checked in with your partner out back?”
“About an hour ago, sir,” the cop said. “All’s quiet.”
Dom glanced to Daisy’s living room window, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something’s not right here. I fucking know it.
“Call him. Now,” Dom ordered over his shoulder, taking the stairs three at a time, anger buzzing in his head like gunfire. Behind him, he heard the young officer trying unsuccessfully to raise his partner on the radio.
Dom flung open the vestibule’s outer door, then tried the inner door, knowing it was locked. Next he tried Daisy’s intercom buzzer, but she didn’t answer. After ringing it several more times with no response, he pounded on the vestibule’s glass door. “C’mon, c’mon,” he gritted out. But the hallway was empty.
Shit. He yanked out the Smith and Wesson holstered at his ankle, then held his forearm in front of his eyes and brought the butt down hard against the door. Glass shattered, most of it falling inside the vestibule. He reached in and turned the knob, letting himself in. Gun still drawn, he tore down the hallway and whipped open the door to the stairwell.
Hair on the back of his neck rose even more. He had a bad feeling about the unresponsive cop guarding the rear door.
As he ran up the stairs, his heart pounded and his gut churned with foreboding. This is so not fucking good. When he flung open the door and stepped into the deserted hallway outside Daisy’s door he froze.
The door to her place was wide open.
He aimed the .40 caliber at the open doorway. His heart raced, and he breathed through his mouth, trying not to make unnecessary noise. When he got to the door and looked inside the apartment his heart seemed to stop beating altogether.
Pottery shards littered the floor. Soil darkened the rugs, furniture, and walls.
With his weapon extended and his heart in his throat, he searched the kitchen next, then the bedroom and bathroom.
Daisy was gone.
He couldn’t breathe, and for a moment his tactical mind froze and he was incapable of rational thought.
Get it together. She needs you.
The phone in his back pocket vibrated and he pulled it out.
No caller ID.
Clenching his jaw, he answered the call and put the phone to his ear.
“I’ve got your girlfriend, asshole.”
He gripped the phone tighter, breathing through clenched teeth.
Smith. The fucker has Daisy.
“Get your ass to the hotel. Room 225. Come alone or she dies.” The line went dead.
“Sonofabitch.” He raced from the apartment, back down the stairwell, and into the vestibule. He shoved open the inner and outer doors, then bolted down the steps. Once inside his Explorer, he cranked the engine and gunned the vehicle down the street.
He pounded his fist on the steering wheel and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, zigzagging around cars at every intersection. Given that it was Sunday, traffic was lighter than on a typical weekday. By his estimation, he could make the hotel in ten minutes.
Again the phone rang, and he answered it without looking at the screen.
“Gonzalez is dead,” Gray said. “I found him in his apartment, two shots to the head. Your cover’s blown. Do not go to that hotel.”
Dom slammed on the brakes, barely missing a street vendor cart crossing an intersection. Tires screeched as the vendor flipped him the bird.
“You hear me?” Gray shouted.
“I have to go.” He slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the car launched through a red light. “They have Daisy.”
“How the fuck did they get to her with uniforms guarding the doors?”
Dom ground his teeth. “I think Smith took out the one guarding the rear door. His partner’s checking on him now. I’m betting he broke in with a crow bar.”
“Stand by,” Gray said.
Dom heard the muffled squawk of the police radio in the background. He couldn’t quite make out the words but heard Gray curse. After a moment, Gray came back on the phone.
“Smith bashed that cop’s head in. Ambulance is on the way.”
“Shit.” Dom gunned the Explorer faster down the street.
“This doesn’t change anything!” Gray shouted. “You still can’t go to that hotel. You’ll be walking into a trap. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I have to. Gray—” His voice choked. “I love her. I got her into this, and I’ll get her out.”
“Then you’re not going in alone. I’m on my way. I’ll grab as many uniforms and detectives as I can. This situation just changed, and to hell with what Shane wants.”
“No, Gray.” He jerked the wheel hard right onto Fifth Avenue. “I’m going in alone or they’ll kill her.”
“Bullshit! You go in alone and they’ll kill both of you. You know that!”
He gunned the engine faster. “Let me get inside first. If they see you and a contingent of cops right behind me she doesn’t stand a chance. Give me thirty minutes.”
Gray let loose with a string of expletives. “Fine, but not one second more. And partner?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch your ass.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dom’s heart raced as he hefted the large cardboard box over his shoulder and took the short flight of stairs at the hotel’s loading dock. Not wanting to waste time explaining to the hotel security team manning the front door as to why an armed detective was demanding entry, he was counting on the substantially more lax security at the loading dock to get him inside quicker.
He already knew Valenzuela wasn’t on duty, since Gray had interviewed him that morning at home. Luckily, the guard on duty had his head down, inspecting another vendor’s boxes. He easily slipped past the guard shack and pushed open the door to the hotel.
Once inside, he ditched the box and wound his way through the maze of service hallways. Music thumped through the walls, and as he opened a door that led to the lobby, the sounds of a live band’s drum section pounded his ears. He glanced at his watch. Eleven thirty and the hotel was already bustling with activity.