“Done,” she said. “What’s next?”
A black fire burned in his eyes. “Noxell.”
They drove to the dragon’s nest – the quiet, safe village of Bal Harbour, to Benson’s house.
Ann would have expected something more from an over-rich, powerful member of the mob. Sure, the house had a beautiful view and it settled on the lonely side of a tongue of land that stretched over for the ocean. But it wasn’t, by far, a palace.
It was a well behaved, white, two-story house; if it wasn’t for two columns at the entrance, it would have been a cube with lots of palm trees surrounding it. Mark parked far enough away not to be in front of Benson’s, but still see the comings and goings.
The waiting began.
After few hours, Ann started to wriggle in her seat. She followed a cat slithering across the road at a hurried trot; the poor creature was probably trying to avoid getting its paws grilled on the sun-heated blacktop.
How would it be, living in a perpetual summer, without having to deal with razor sharp cold and thick sweaters? Mary seemed to like it, and Mark seemed to miss it. Maybe she could move down here.
Or, she could calm down. Planning a new life with a man who had trouble dealing with emotions was silly. Plus, he didn’t live here; he lived everywhere and nowh–
The windshield exploded in a downpour of glass after a thick hiss.
The noise surprised her, the crumble of the windshield on her skin scratched softly, the jerk of a strong hand pushed her. But the shout scared her. “Down!”
She didn’t understand. The silence had been broken too fast, Mark’s reaction too quick for her to keep up. Smoke, thin, threatening, burned her eyes, confused her mind.
Suddenly she was pushed, he was screaming. “Out! Get out of the car!”
She tried, but her fingers fumbled on the door handle. Her head was so heavy, the car suffocating.
Mark’s voice lost anger, faded – couldn’t she hear? Couldn’t he talk?
She stretched a hand, found his arm. Pushing. He was pushing her away.
Panic lashed at her hodgepodge of dreams, memories and alarm. Swirls of darkness smeared her opaque mind.
Darkness won.
Chapter 23
It sizzled. It prickled. It stung, like a colony of red ants running up and down beneath the skin.
In the thick mud of his mind, Mark recognized it. The part of him that was instinct, that was warrior and hunter, felt it clear.
It was danger.
Primal force answered, pulled his system back into alert.
Ann. Where was Ann?
Mark defied the stone lodged in his brain and managed to raise his head. He wrenched his eyes open; a white neon light stabbed, blinded him. When he tried to raise his hands to protect his face from that bright hit, he couldn’t.
He blinked fire and gravel away from his sight as some strength trickled into his limbs.
Tied. He was tied to a low chair and useless. Duct tape locked his hands behind his back and secured them to the heavy chair’s cross rail.
He tried to push on his feet – if he could stand, he could break the chair. He failed. His ankles were tied to the chair’s front legs.
Swinging back and forth was out, too. A heavy, mahogany desk surrounded him on three sides. He was trapped.
The air turned red and hot. He had to know where she was, if she was all right.
He swore frustration away, squeezed his eyes tight as his heart pumped raging oxygen. No time to lose it now. Wherever they had taken her, Ann needed a thinking man, not a caged beast.
He had to find her, hide her. Then he’d come back, kill whoever touched her and roped him like a fucking animal. He would do it with his bare hands, and enjoy every instant. But first, he had to get free.
He studied the room. Wealth was heavily displayed, like a flag in a hard-conquered land. Smooth wood paneled the walls where thick, golden frames held paintings of women with white long dresses and parasols. Under his feet, a plush and soft rug. On the desk surrounding him, a lonely laptop and a phone laid still. A rich, unused office.
He peeked between the blue-and-gold brocade curtains. It was night.
Whatever they shot into the car, had kept him under for at least a day. He could be wherever. She could be wherever.
Mark swore under his breath. Even at his lowest low, he had known his location, had a knife in his boot and a Team backing him up. Now he was alone and stripped weapon-naked. He didn’t even have his hands.
There had to be a way to get rid of the tape strangling his wrists. He looked left, right. Left again, straining his neck to turn more, to see more.
Something caught his eye, poked at his hope.
Using his weight, he bounced the chair until it rotated; he didn’t need much, just a few inches. The room contracted to a single point. At the other side, on a chair like his, was Ann.
He saw her back, her hands tied up. Her head hung down like a ragdoll’s. He had a partial view of her blond hair streaming down, nearly touching her thighs.
Panic wrestled with logic. She was smaller than he was and exposed to the same amount of hypnotic drug, it would take her longer to come around. And why leaving him untouched but beating her up? No, she was just sleeping. Or dead, a small voice buzzed into his ear. He shook it away – why tie her up, if she was dead?
With relief, Mark took in some more detail. Unlike his own, her hands were only tied together, not to the chair. They had let her legs loose, meaning she had more freedom. It also meant they underestimated her, which was both stupid and perfect.
The moment she recovered, she could hop to him and work on those duct tape chains. Once free, they would take off. No problem there, he was pissed enough to take down a whole army with a hand and a stick.
It would have been a good plan, but no sooner did the thought take form, the door opened, and a woman in her late thirties walked in.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carson,” she said with a staged husky voice. Meant to be sexy and sophisticated, it came out as cheap and unpleasant.
“Benson?”
Her smile was just as bogus as her voice. “Well, I’m flattered you know my name. I didn’t think you and I walked in the same circles.”
Short and bony, she wore black from head to toe, except for red lips and fingernails. With sharp cheekbones and sunken rounded eyes, the pearls on her neck and ears, the small, golden watch on her wrist and tailor-made suit didn’t make her classy, but sad. Or maybe it was because the hair, frizzy even under the hairdo, slipped out and made a brown halo around her head, or the smudges in her heavy make-up.
One way or the other, Mark knew the type. A wannabe Tony Montana, the slum-dog that came into money by way of questionable choices. And a woman, which made her all the more dangerous.
But if that room wasn’t lying, she had a big weakness: her own ego. She would love to brag about how she beat them, and her twisted self-esteem was his ticket to the info he wanted.
“Ain’t you supposed to be all classy and beautiful?” Mark smirked. “Guess ya can’t write off who ya really are, can ya?”
Benson’s little jaw clenched. She waved a manicured hand to a bodyguard.
Mark tensed, prepared to take in the punch or whatever he was about to suffer, but the man only dragged him away from the desk.
She sprawled in her throne, tapped her cheek with a long nail. “I can kill you any moment I want.”
Mark shrugged. “I’m unarmed and tied up. Go on, it doesn’t take much to pull a trigger.”
“Guns are messy. There are more subtle, and more painful, ways.”
“Are you talking about the tale about you, killing the old man as soon as he made you his heir?” he snorted. “Boring. Poison takes away all the fun.”
“Laugh all you want, Carson. The fact is that you and your friend are exactly where I wanted you to be.”
“Which would be?”
She spread her arms. “A guest in my humble abode, Mr. Carson.”
“Miami?”
“No, my townhome was too close to my business to keep you there. We’re on the coast, far from city lights and noise.”
“And,” Mark shrugged, “Just for conversation’s sake, why are we still alive?”
“The phone, Mr. Carson, what else? It’s the only thing that can jeopardize my new venture. You see, I can’t afford police sniffing in my pockets now, when triumph is just a few hours away. Tell me where it is and how to get it, and I might be a good girl.”
Mark’s laugh filled the room. “Yeah, right.”
Benson kept her eyes on his. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re dead anyway, Mr. Carson. The only difference for you is how. My men can take their time and have some fun, or get it over with quickly.” She glanced at Ann. “But her… she may walk away.”
Mark’s blood iced over as he smiled. “Nice stage. Really. You got your hands on us, talked the bad guy talk. You’re nearly believable. Since you’re so bad, why bother with us? I’m sure you know where the phone is.”
She leaned over, linking her fingers on the desktop. “The best way is always the simplest. A shootout in Miami? Messy. Breaking into the post office? I’d have to kill at least a couple of people, and I think I told you about my trouble with the police now. Then, I’d have to take the whole security box – unpractical.” She took a long breath. “No, it’s much easier dealing with you only. But you have been a pain, Mr. Carson, it’ll feel good kill you.”
“Aw, honey, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for that. To get your precious phone, you need a face and a code. Ann has the code, and I, well, the face.”
“She’s not a problem. We’ll see what to do about your face. As long as you’re my guests, I don’t care much.” She entwined her long fingers, leaned back on the chair. “For a moment, I worried you’d go to the police with that little phone. Thank God, you didn’t disappoint me.”
“Well, I’m glad.”
“Your problem, Carson, is that you’re a man of honor, hence, very predictable. It’s so easy to guess your next move.”
“Is it?”
“Of course. When Gage told me that the whore talked to your man, I knew your Team was going to be a problem. And when your girl escaped, I wasn’t happy. I tried twice to take her down, and you were always in my way.” She got up, paced around on the soft carpet. “Then I came to reason. I needed the phone with all the info inside, and in a little while you would have joined your Team, making my problem bigger.” She faced him, a look of mocking respect on her face. “Yours is quite a name. So, I killed your guy and cut you off from talking with your friends. Magic of modern technology. Then, all I had to do was sit back, wait for you to find the phone and take you down. One instead of three of the likes of you, your precious Team, seemed easier. Actually, we took one more of you. The one you call Boss got too close. Don’t worry, you’ll meet him in a little while.”
Mark refrained from smiling. If the Boss was there, they had even more chances to get away. He was like an old revolver, a little slower to reload, but when it came to shooting, it was as good as it got. “How did you know about the safe house?”
“Your tech guy was good, but not that good. I have ten hackers working for me, I can break into the Pentagon if I want.” She chuckled, sat again. “I did, actually. My computer nerds traced your signal, we followed it and here we are.”
The phone on her desk rang. She picked it up, listened for an instant and closed the line. “I’m afraid we have to call off our talk. Troubles never cease, especially the day before the opening act. But don’t worry, there will be time.” Benson pushed to her heels, straightened her skirt and the suit jacket. “Someone will come for you. I hope you’ll enjoy staying at my home for a little while.”
As soon as the door closed, Ann’s head rose. “Mark?” she called in a whisper.
Mark took in a long breath – he had never heard a more beautiful sound. “Are you okay?”
“A little numb, but yes. What do we do now?”
“Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
“When they come to get us, I’ll distract them. Remember what I taught you? About fighting? Do it, get out of here and call the boys.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“You do what I say, understand?” he shouted under his breath. “It’s an order, Ann: get free, run and call. They’ll know what to do.”
The door handle turned.
Like an abandoned marionette, Ann let her head fall down, tried to relax.
“Only three of you?” Mark scoffed. “Come on! Tell me at least it’s two for me and one for the girl.”
Okay, Ann thought, she only had to win against one. No, not win, but sneak away. She could do it, she’d been taught by the best.
The air thickened, or maybe nerves were choking her. Keeping her chest from rising and falling like pistons on a racing car was wearying.
She heard struggles from where Mark was, felt a presence in front of her. Blood rushed back in her hands in a warm wave when a blade cut the tape on her wrists.
Still, afraid, her senses wide open to every shift of the air, every change in the sounds, she dreaded the moment when she would have had to do something.
And the shout came. “Now!”
The limp puppet she’d been filled up with strength and was on her feet; in her mind, only Mark’s teaching. She loaded all her weight in the heel of her hand and smashed it on the thug’s nose. The impact resonated through her arm.
Pain blanked the man’s brain, as Mark had told her it would. With a groan, he stumbled away.
Grunts and the sharp smacks of fists into flash came from the tangle of bodies somewhere in the room. With the corner of her eye, she saw Mark hitting a man’s face with the back of his head.
“Go!” he roared before a blow shut him up.
Ann ran.
Chapter 24
Ann bulleted through the door, didn’t stop to decide which way to go. Her panicked mind only picked at the surrounding. The space in front of her might be a living room, a hall, she didn’t care.
At the other side of a dark space, a dim light bounced in from an open door. It meant freedom, so she darted toward it.
She left behind the sound of crashed furniture, heavy swearing, loud calling. The need to go back for him pulled her back at any step, but if she wanted to save Mark, she had to leave him.
Ann pushed on, blindly, wildly.
Moonlight was just at the other side of a glass wall. When she slid the door window open lights boomed all around her, the voices behind gained power, turned into faces, and faces into armed hands as she flashed on.
The first bullet whistled at her side. Panic gripped her stomach.
Her shoes flew over the hardwood decking of a pool.
Trees. If she got to the trees in front of her she might have a chance.
Just a few more strides.
A floor of leaves, branches and darkness swallowed her down with a whoosh. She steered left and tripped but didn’t feel any pain on her scraped hands and knees.
She panted, her lungs squeezed by the silence surrounding her.
For no reasons she turned right. Something scratched her face, her arm when she pushed it away. Dried twigs crunched under her feet. Something slithered away in a hurry.
If she was in a park, lost, she was done. If, at some point, the forest was fenced, she was done. If they caught up with her, she was done.
But if she didn’t find a phone and call the team, Mark was done. So she fought back.
Benson said they were on the coast. If she found the ocean, she would have a direction and a better chance to spot a home. The only problem was how to find the ocean.
Cursing her lack of bearings, she tried to look up to the sky. Even if the treetops weren’t walls, she wouldn’t have known how to use stars and the moon. She remembered hearing tree trunks could help, but she didn’t know how.
Her foot kicked something. When her e
yes went down to see what it was, it hit her: not as many roots and dead leaves anymore. And the ground was softer, the air less thick.
With the tip of her shoes, she dug away the ground cover. Sand.
When the beach opened like the arms of a loving mother, she crossed it until the coastline stretched in front of her.
Not far, the lights of a house shone like a guiding star.
* * * * *
Mark landed on the coarse floor, the attempt of protecting his aching side failed miserably. When the door closed with a metallic clang, darkness was absolute.
Sweat of pain trickled from his forehead. Panting, cursing his hands still laced behind his back, he pulled himself up to sitting. He drew in deep breaths. Pain sparked white flashes in front of his eyes, but he didn’t pass out. Nothing broken, good. Nothing was more annoying than trying to escape with a broken rib.
“Hey, kid.” The voice emerged from the nothingness around, carrying a thick Alabama drawl with it. “They got you.”
Mark smiled. “They got you, too. What’s up, Boss?”
“Eh, same old, same old. Saw your eye when they threw you in, bad as it looks?”
“Have seen worse.”
The Boss’s laugh filled the darkness. “That’s funny. Damn funny, kid. Other than that?”
“Ribs, shoulder, face – usual. Are we watched?”
“Not in this shit hole.”
“You tied up?”
“Like a hog.”
“Let’s work it out.”
Back to back, Mark worked on the Boss’ tape until he was free. After few minutes, he could massage some blood back into his limbs.
“So,” Mark asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know, kid, what d’you think? These bastards killed Mouse, and then it’s Snake telling me you never called or pick up the phone.”
“I tried, but they cut us off. You set off after me?”
“Of course I did. You’ve always had a talent for deep shit.”
“Thank you.” Mark looked around, but all his eyes saw was black. He barely made out the Boss’ shape, and he was standing beside him. “Any chance we can get out by ourselves?”
“Not one. We’re in a black box with walls thick as trunks.”
Guns For Angels Page 16