After a moment, he nodded to the guard to leave and she was alone with him. His ex-wife had been right. When the women called asking for advice on how to handle this meeting, Hope had been certain Rudi would want to be alone with her. His arrogance wouldn’t allow him to see Megan as a threat. Hope said he’d want an opportunity to toy with her. That he always toyed with his prey.
Megan scanned the room as she faked nonchalance. It was decorated in blues and creams. Tasteful. Elegant. On the desk was a laptop. On her left, against the wall, was a cabinet that functioned as a bar. The top held crystal decanters of whisky. There were two sofas flanking a coffee table. French provincial—her brain supplied the style as her eyes skimmed the room. On the wall beside the desk were three monitors. One showed the interior of the guardhouse.
“I watched your entry.” Rudi rounded the desk. “I was expecting you to arrive with a colleague of mine. Dimitri Petrokov.”
Megan shrugged. “Dimitri had a little run in with a Taser. He’s currently locked in the boot of his car.” She leaned in to him and whispered. “Between you and me, I’m hoping he rots there.”
His eyebrows arched. “So, you manged to escape your jailer. Why didn’t you run back home to your husband in Scotland? Why come to me?”
“When I found out you were looking for me and realised who you were, I knew my options would be considerably better with you than with Grunt.” She sneered the name of her sister’s husband.
“Is that right?” Amusement, instead of suspicion, oozed from him. “And did Dimitri tell you the plans I have for you?”
Megan channelled the cheap seductive moves of every reality TV bimbo she’d ever seen. “I’m hoping we can come to an agreement that will make you keep me around instead of giving me away.”
“You’re risking a lot on this hope.”
“I think it’s worth the chance,” she purred. What woman purred? None. That’s who. She was making herself nauseous. “You’re a very handsome and powerful man. We’d be good together.”
It was beyond surreal, standing in front of the man who hunted her sister. A man who was very good at pulling on the veneer of sophistication while nurturing the evil within him. He granted her an amused smile and she was struck once again by his model looks. He was elegantly dressed in a Savile Row suit. Grey silk, subtle and tasteful. He wore an open-necked white shirt beneath it. His hair was tousled but expensively cut, and his eyes were mesmerising. He was gorgeous. George Clooney gorgeous. Which actually helped her focus on the situation instead of drooling over the beautiful package of evil before her. Clooney was way too old for her. If he’d been Chris Hemsworth gorgeous, she would have been in trouble.
“Why should I believe that you would give up your husband so easily?”
She licked her lips as she slowly looked him over, head to toe. “Trust me when I say, I’d rather be here. Grunt is so…” She pretended to cast around for a word then supplied the one Hope had given her. “Unsophisticated.”
His eyes flared with approval. His ex-wife had been right. The guy was seriously into himself. When she got out of this, she was going to send Hope a huge hamper filled with chocolate.
“Well, Claire.” His charming façade firmly in place, he held out a hand. “It is lovely to meet you, at last. You are much more than I expected you to be.”
“Thank you, so are you.”
As soon as she clasped his hand, the hidden compartment in her ring triggered. The pin prick made him jerk back slightly. Megan pretended she didn’t notice, refusing to let go of his hand as she stepped towards him. All she needed was a few seconds for the chemical to enter his system.
He smiled and it lit up his face, making him even more dazzlingly handsome. “Now that you’re here, what do you want?”
“I want the same thing you want,” she said seductively. “I want to make Grunt pay.”
“Is that right?”
She gestured to the sofa. “May I sit?”
“By all means.” He swayed slightly as he took the armchair beside her.
He was toying with her, exactly as Hope said he would. Megan reached into her handbag and pressed the record button on her MP3 player.
“If you tell me why you want Grunt to suffer,” she said, “I’ll tell you why I want the same thing.”
He was amused by her guile. “It is very simple. The man took something from me and I wish to take something from him.” With a slight shake of his head, he gripped the wooden arms of the upholstered chair as though to steady himself.
“You like to keep your possessions,” she said with her own smile. “He stole from you.”
The amusement fled from his eyes. “I worked hard for my possessions. I will not have anyone take what is mine.”
Evil made his features ugly and Megan’s blood chilled. This was the man who tortured and killed without remorse. The rest was just packaging. Underneath the pretty exterior was pure, unadulterated vileness.
He blinked and the dark ugly thing that was his true heart disappeared. His eyes were glazed. “What have you done to me?” The words were slurred.
“The same thing you like to do with the women you take. I’ve drugged you to make you easier to handle.”
When he worked hard to focus on her face, Megan knew he wasn’t really seeing her anymore. He was seeing whatever his mind supplied and she hoped they were visions full of the horror he deserved.
“You should be proud. I got the idea for the ring from you.” Megan pulled the roll of pink tape out of her bag. “Clever, huh? Very Man From Uncle.”
He mumbled something, but it was incoherent. Too drugged and out of it to call for help, he was still able to make noise and that wouldn’t do. She ripped off some tape and made a cross shape over his mouth. Then she wrapped the tape around his wrist and secured his hand to the wooden armrest. His head lolled to the side with a muted groan.
Megan rooted around in his pockets for his phone. As soon as she found it she snapped off the back. The SIM card went into the slit she’d cut in the hem of her dress. The battery was removed and slipped under the couch. Taking the two skin-coloured elastic bands out of her hair, she used them to attach the phone to his hand. With his elbow on the other armrest, phone positioned against his ear, she secured him in position with the tape—making sure it was wrapped around his wrist under the cuff of his shirt, so you couldn’t see it. If anyone peeked in the door they’d see his back, sitting on the chair with his phone in his hand.
Good.
He groaned. She ignored it. It was exactly the kind of sound effects the guard outside the door would expect if he was having sex. Well, if he was having bad sex. She was pretty sure she made way better noises than that. She glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes. Megan tugged the ring off his finger and ran to the laptop, pressing buttons randomly to boot it up.
“Come on, come on.” She removed the hidden USB cable from the hollow heel of her modified shoe, where it had been made to look like part of the shoe design. After she attached it to her MP3 player, she connected it to the laptop.
Ten minutes. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed in the commands Elle had drilled into her. Music from her MP3 player filled the room. Good. That was good. She laughed loudly and called Rudi’s name for the guard listening outside the room. All the while she typed, opening the programme Elle had installed into her modified MP3 player. Using Hope’s directions she hit the secret button on Rudi’s ring to reveal the micro USB connection. She plugged it into the laptop. Elle’s programme would do the rest. It would copy the information, wipe the ring clean and upload a virus that would be transferred to Rudi’s cloud account—and hopefully downloaded to his secure information box in Switzerland as well.
Eight minutes. Elle said the programme would take at least six.
She glanced back at Rudi, only to see he was sliding off the chair. Running barefoot back over to him, she knew there wasn’t enough tape on the roll to secure him to the seat. There had to be another option
. He wasn’t wearing a tie. There were no cords or sashes in the room. She glanced down to check the time and it hit her. She whipped her dress over her head, then removed her bra, before putting the dress back on. Pulling tight, she wrapped the bra around Rudi and the chair, straining to clasp it. She felt particularly grateful that the cheap elastic stretched far enough. Done. She hoped the elastic left a mark. With his jacket draped over the back of the chair, you couldn’t see it at all. Perfect. She even tugged the cups up to make it look like he was wearing it. Just because.
Dance music thudded through the room. Megan added some Meg Ryan orgasm noises into the mix as Rudi’s head lolled and his eyes closed. Nope, that wouldn’t do. She wanted him awake for this part. She smacked his cheek to get his attention. When his drugged eyes looked up at her she held his chin to keep him in place.
“Just how many women have you raped and killed, Rudi? How many have you let other men rape and kill? You really didn’t give a crap about any of those women, did you? I know you didn’t and you deserve to pay for everything you’ve done. But, see, here’s the thing.” Megan pulled the last elastic tie out of her hair, letting it fall loose to her shoulders. “I can’t kill you. Mainly because I’m not a killer and I honestly don’t think I could live with your sorry death on my conscience. No matter how much of a service I would be doing the world. In saying that, I really do think you deserve to be punished.”
She held up the elastic ring. “See this? It’s my version of a docking band. We use docking bands in the Highlands to remove sheep tails. The ring tightens and tightens until the appendage falls off. This one was made just for you. Can you guess where I’m going to put it?”
He shook his head, but it lolled around on his shoulders. She checked her watch. Five minutes. With an air of detachment, she unzipped his trousers and pulled him free. Hope was right, he was tiny. She snapped the band on at the base of his penis, tugged it as tight as possible and fastened it, the same way you would a zip tie. Okay, so it was nothing like a true docking band, but it would certainly do the job. The only way that sucker was coming off was if it was cut off, but doing that would cause some serious damage. Although, to be fair, probably not as much damage as leaving it on. She fastened the trousers back up. Hopefully nobody would find the ring until his penis had fallen off.
The computer beeped behind her and Megan ran over to it. Done. Good. She tapped some more keys and Rudi’s voice rumbled out of the machine, repeating the short conversation they’d had earlier. She left it on a low loop. Loud enough for people to know he was talking, but not so loud they could make out what was being said.
She quickly unplugged her MP3 player and cables, and stuffed it all back into her bag. The ring was forced back onto Rudi’s finger, knowing that the drugs would mean he didn’t even remember her taking it off. Lastly, she fished around in her bag for the permanent marker. The casing might have been pink and sparkly, but the ink part was jet black.
It was so tempting to write the truth about him across his face. Rapist. Murderer. Slave trader. Wife beater. Oh how she wished the words could be tattooed into his skin. The ugly core of this man should be evident on his exterior. Unfortunately, she couldn’t risk anyone seeing the words and guessing she’d messed with other parts of him.
Opening his shirt wide, she wrote her warning across his chest: leave Claire alone or else. Not exactly Shakespeare, but he should get the message. A cold rage overtook her as she remembered the woman in the photos from the day before with words sliced into her body. Her hand twitched with the need to grab a knife and do the same to Rudi.
A noise outside the door reminded her she was on a schedule. She fastened Rudi’s shirt. Fluffed her hair, wiped her lipstick off with the back of her hand and pinched her cheeks to make them look flushed.
Two minutes.
She arranged Rudi’s clothes so they would look dishevelled from behind, then opened the door. The stony faced guard immediately blocked her exit.
She forced a smile. “He’s on an important phone call. He told me to come back another day.”
The guard frowned. He looked over her shoulder at Rudi while Megan held her breath. This was it. Life or death. The moment of truth. He would either see a man rumpled from sex and making a call, or he would see a scene staged for him. If he saw the latter, her life was over. Her palms began to sweat and there was a strange tingling in her legs, which she thought might be her body preparing to run. Breathing was hard. Waiting harder. Eternity. It was an eternity.
“Okay.” The guard nodded and Megan almost passed out from relief. “I’ll escort you out.”
“Thank you.” She kept her eyes down and tried to look helpless.
Hope was right. Rudi had been too arrogant to let his minions know who she was and how much he wanted to own her. Otherwise they would never have let her walk out of the house.
“He said he’s not to be disturbed until he’s done with the call. He seemed kind of mad.”
The guard nodded once, held her arm and escorted her out. Heart pounding, muscles tingling and fighting the urge to hyperventilate, Megan let him lead her through the building. When she walked out of the door, she winked in the general direction of Callum’s hiding place and hoped he got the message.
The bodybuilder was waiting at the gate for her. “I’ll call you a cab,” he said.
She shook her head. “Don’t bother. I fancy a walk.” She ran a fingertip down the centre of his chest and her heart pounded so fast she thought she might pass out. “It’s been very nice meeting you.”
Her stomach was flip flopping continually and she felt like she was going to vomit. Or pass out. Neither option was a good one. As she turned towards the gate, she spotted someone out of the corner of her eye and her world stopped dead.
Reynard Durand.
The guy she’d shot in the backside in Scotland. The guy who’d terrified Hope. The guy who knew who she was and wanted to get his hands on her to win favour with Rudi.
That guy.
He stood beside a car at the corner of the house, talking to another man. Megan ducked her head and tapped her bag against her leg. A nervous gesture, she hoped the bodybuilder wouldn’t notice. It was impossible to stay still when every cell in her body was screaming for her to run.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the gate began to open. She heard movement behind her. Footsteps on gravel. She couldn’t hear anything more. The sound of her own blood rushing through her veins drowned out everything else. She couldn’t tell if the footsteps were coming towards her or going away.
At last, the gate opened enough for her to squeeze through. Smiling at the guard one last time, so as not to raise any suspicions, she ducked her head and pretended to fish around in her handbag as she walked away.
A voice called out behind her. “Wait. Miss. Wait.”
She kept on walking. Picking up speed. Trying hard not to run. Not to hurry too much. She just had to make it to the end of the street. Around the corner, Elle was parked waiting for her. She just had to make it to Elle.
She heard footsteps thudding on the pavement behind her and held her breath. Her team were out there. Callum, no doubt, had his gun trained in her direction. They could see what was happening. They wouldn’t let Durand hurt her. She was sure of it.
A hand on her arm. Her vision blurred. A body appeared in front of her.
The bodybuilder.
It was the bodybuilder. He held up her phone. “You forgot this.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was breathy from anxiety, but she hoped he read it as lust.
“I programmed my number. It’s under C for call me.”
Ew! Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. “You know I will.”
She turned on her expensive, but modified, heel and sauntered to the end of the street, putting an extra swing into her hips, just in case.
As soon as she rounded the corner she bolted for the bright blue Mini Cooper, parked illegally in front of the entrance to someone’s house. Elle was behind the wheel. Megan threw
herself into the car.
“Go. Go. Go.” She slouched down in the seat as Elle pulled out into traffic.
“You okay?” Elle said.
“I think I’m going to vomit.”
“Understandable. But don’t do it in the car.”
“You’re all heart.”
“I know.” Elle gave her a manic, near hysterical, grin. “You can get up now.”
Megan sat up in her seat and fumbled with her seatbelt. “My hands are shaking.”
“Adrenalin.” Elle cast her a sideward glance. “Or fear. Just how terrifying was it?”
“Not so bad while I was in there. I had to focus on the job. But now…”
“Yeah.” Elle turned into the main road, heading to Rachel’s house as they’d prearranged.
“I need a shower.” Megan watched the busy shopping street pass by. It was filled with people who were having a normal Friday afternoon. The sight made everything Megan had just done, even more surreal. “I have to wash away the stink of Abramovich.” She didn’t even want to think about the part of him she’d touched.
“He deserved it.” Elle’s lips thinned.
“I know, he deserved that and more. Damn, Elle, when I close my eyes all I can see are the photos of the women he hurt. I keep thinking that could be Claire and then I remember that it is Katrina.” She went to rub her eyes but remembered her hands were dirty. Invisible dirt from touching Rudi. “You got any wipes?”
“Glove compartment.”
Megan pulled out the antibacterial wipes and used all of them cleaning her hands.
“Do you think he’ll stop going after Claire?” Elle turned into Rachel’s road.
“I hope so.” Surely, even Abramovich would heed this warning? “Stop the car.”
Elle swerved to the kerb and Megan threw open the door. She emptied her stomach in the gutter, much to the disgust of a passer-by. When she sat back in her seat and closed the door, Elle handed her a bottle of lemon flavoured water.
“I’m sorry,” Megan said as she gratefully took it.
Reckless (Benson's Boys Book 1) Page 14