I glared at him, my teeth clenched tight. “How did you find Holly?”
“It was easy,” Christian replied. “I cleaned up in Paris, combed through the aftermath to make sure that the police wouldn’t find anything of consequence. And do you know what I found there? Your passport. God, what a gift. I took a plane out of Paris that night and arrived in this godforsaken town the following morning. At first, I wasn’t sure how to go about asking for you, but lucky for me, the people here were all too eager to fill me in on the tragic story of the Dubois family. Emmett and Autumn have been especially useful.”
Emmett clapped Christian on the back. “Christian helped me to see you for what you really are, Bridget. A selfish brat. It’s okay though. We can work on it together.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snarled.
“I promised Emmett a gift if he helped me lure you back into town,” Christian explained.
“What kind of gift?”
“You,” Emmett answered. “After all of this is over, we’re going to elope. We’ll travel the world together this time, Bee.”
I laughed without humor. “You’re out of your mind.”
The grin dropped off of Emmett’s face, and the rifle nose shifted toward my head. “Don’t say that.”
Mac nervously eyed the gun at her throat as Christian nudged Emmett out of the way with his hip.
“Take it easy,” Christian said, as easily as if he were offering Emmett advice on how to better his deadlift form. “We’re not done with her yet.”
“What about Autumn?” I asked Christian. “All of that crap you said to me a few days ago about her and the baby— Oh God.” My stomach turned over. “The baby. You got her pregnant.”
Christian’s teeth gleamed in the dim light. “That I did. Clever, wasn’t it? When this is over, all of Belle Dame will have a brand new bundle of joy to remind them of your mistakes. It’s so easy to tell women what they want to hear.”
“You’re despicable,” I spat. “Let Mac and Holly go. You have me.”
Christian chuckled and shook Mac by the collar of her uniform polo. “So your little cop friend can run to her boss and rat us out? I don’t think so. No, we’ll have to dispose of her somehow.”
Mac rolled her eyes, a rather nonchalant reaction to Christian’s casual threat of death. Near the basement door, Holly moaned and rolled over, causing all four pairs of eyes to flash in her direction.
“And as for your precious little sister.” Christian aimed the Glock at Holly’s head, and my whole body tensed. “We aren’t done with her yet either. Don’t you see, Brigitte? The fun has just begun. Someone has to put things right. Somebody has to pay for the mistakes that you made in Paris. What better way to get revenge than to make you watch while I treat dear Holly here to a slow and painful death?”
Bile burned at the back of my throat. “I swear, if you touch her, I’ll kill you.”
“No, no,” Christian whispered. “I’m going to kill you, Bridget Dubois. Nice and slowly. Officer Hart can watch, and then I’ll kill her too.”
“Yeah, I’m not really into that,” Mac said.
And she flipped Christian over her hip.
10
Strikeout
Phantom came through. In the shadows of the lobby of L’hotel Douloureux, we swapped parting gifts. He gave me the master key to every room upstairs. I gave him enough cash from Fox’s stash to last him several years on his own.
“What are you doing to do with the key?” he asked.
I grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “Start a revolution.”
Swift as the night breeze, he planted a kiss on my cheek. “Adieu, my dear. Good luck with your mysterious escapades, and thank you for my freedom.”
I wiped my cheek and lifted the master key. “Thank you for mine.”
Phantom winked and disappeared down the corridor that led to the ballrooms. It was the last time I ever saw him.
The plan was in place. I had memorized the map of the tunnels beneath the hotel that led to the closest train station. Fox was ensconced in a business meeting in the lounge, far from the north stairwell, which would serve as our escape route to the basement kitchen. It was well past four am, and the customers had left the hotel to return to their unwitting wives and girlfriends. The girls I’d recruited for my scheme had fulfilled the duties I’d asked of them, and now they waited for my signal. I checked my watch. Time to go.
I started on the top floor, tapping a coded knock on each door before scanning the master key to unlock it. Girls filtered out into the hallways, dressed and ready to go. I ushered them to the north stairwell, where their slippered feet shuffled downward toward the ground floor. It was a quiet processional. Stealth was essential, and the girls knew that, silent like church mice as they skittered away. I proceeded to the next floor and the next, the taste of freedom like chocolate on my tongue.
In the last room that I unlocked, Noemie Laurent stood her ground.
“Let’s go,” I said in French, gesturing to the rest of the girls. “Unless you prefer to stay?”
“Why are you doing this?”
The question caught me off guard. “Why wouldn’t I do this?”
“He’ll kill you,” Noemie replied, trembling. “He’ll kill all of us.”
“If you stay here, you’ll die for certain.”
“How do you know?”
I raised a small remote control in my right hand. “Because L’hotel Douloureux is wired to explode. Phantom wasn’t just buying drugs on the black market.”
Noemie’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you.”
“Do you disagree? Do they not deserve it?”
She draped her coat over her arm and hurried past me. “Let them burn.”
We joined hands and sprinted to the end of the hallway. She was the last girl on the floor. Everyone else had already found their way down to the kitchen. The hotel was deadly quiet as Noemie and I reached level ground. I gestured for her to stay put, cracked the door to the hallway, and peered out. It was a straight shot across to the kitchen. All clear.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
But as soon as we stepped into the corridor, all hell broke loose.
The kitchen door blew open, expelling a group of girls as they savagely attacked one of Fox’s men. It was Leo, the man with a golden mane like a lion’s, which the girls now took full advantage of.
“Whores!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as the girls wrenched handfuls of hair from his scalp. “They’re escaping! Fox! Fox!”
A thunderous stampede echoed from the other end of the hall as Fox and the rest of his men exploded from the lounge and surged toward the kitchen. At the sight of Fox’s flared nostrils and manic expression, the girls, screaming, let go of Leo and retreated to the kitchen. Fox sprinted down the hall, closing the gap between us and our only escape route.
“Go!” I yelled, pushing Noemie into the hallway. We hurdled Leo as he curled up on the luscious patterned carpet, cradling his head, and slammed through the kitchen door moments before Fox reached us. As we dashed through the food prep area, following the other girls toward the industrial dumbwaiter, I swept pots and pans from the counters, laying out a field of obstacles for Fox and his men. Almost immediately, I heard the snap of an ankle, followed by an anguished cry, as someone fell prey to a dutch oven.
We reached the dumbwaiter. The gears were broken, and the machine had to be lifted by hand, but on the other side lay the secret entrance to the underground tunnels. One of the other girls held the hidden door ajar for the others, but as we careened toward her, her mouth dropped open to frame her horror at the sight of our pursuers, and she released the lever that kept the dumbwaiter airborne and scampered off.
“No!” I yelped as the dumbwaiter slammed back into position. With a grunt, I lifted it up from the bottom, shoving against the old gears. “Noemie, go!”
The younger girl slipped through the gap to the other side then threw her weight a
gainst the lever. The dumbwaiter lifted several feet in the air. I slid under it and into the damp tunnel.
“Close it, close it!”
Noemie wasn’t quick enough. She let go of the lever, but not before Fox stole through the chink, using his shoulders to prop up the weight of the dumbwaiter. The opening banged shut, plunging the three of us into the darkness of the secret tunnel.
“Run!” I ordered Noemie.
We sprinted blindly in the opposite direction of the hotel. I kept my hand on the wall of the passageway as my eyes begged for a source of light. Fox’s quick footsteps kept time with my racing heartbeat. He wasn’t far behind.
“The remote!” Noemie hissed. “Do it now!”
“We’re not far enough away,” I whispered back. “And I have no intention of burying us underneath this damned hotel.”
“Brigitte,” he called into the darkness. “What have you done?”
His calm, lusty voice echoed off the stone walls of the underground corridor as though it was coming from all directions. I picked up my pace, slipped on an invisible puddle, and hit the ground, dragging Noemie down with me. The plastic remote that would detonate the bombs planted in L’hotel Douloureux skittered away from my grasp. We scrambled to regain our footing, but Fox was closer than anticipated. Noemie got up and ran, but as I groped for the remote, Fox’s long fingers wrapped around my ankle and yanked me toward him. I yelped as my shirt rode up, exposing the bare skin of my back to rough, wet stone as he hauled me across it. He sat down on my hips and pinned my hands beneath his knees. A light flickered on. The blinding LED of Fox’s phone. He shined it directly into my watering eyes and leaned over me, his nose an inch from mine.
“They warned me, you know,” he said, serene. His sweaty blond hair, usually flawless in style, flopped over his forehead. Specks of mud decorated his pale, pretty face. “‘You give her too much freedom. She will take advantage.’ I should’ve listened, but you blinded me.”
I spat, and the wad of phlegm landed on his nose, near the corner of his eye. He flinched then patiently cleared my DNA from his face.
“Mon amour,” he said, fiddling with something in the waist of his tailored suit pants. “I cannot wait to watch the light go out of your eyes.”
And then a small, silver handgun pointed directly at my forehead. I closed my eyes. If this was the end, then at least the other girls were on their way to safety. I’d done my part. My conscience was as clear as it was going to get regarding my list of sins.
“No!”
From out of the surrounding darkness, Noemie leapt over my head and tackled Fox. She was petite but plucky. The gun went flying as she knocked him off balance, as did his phone. The light bounced haphazardly off of the stone walls until the phone settled a few feet along. Fox struggled to throw Noemie off his back, but she held tight, her fingers dangerously close to his eye sockets.
“Get off of me, you bitch!”
He slammed Noemie against the wall, where she fell to the floor and backed away from Fox’s crazed antics. Behind him, the swell of voices reverberated through the corridor. Fox’s men had found their way into the passageway, and they were rapidly gaining on us. I scooted backward, and my hand met something smooth and metallic. Fox’s gun.
An explosive boom rocked the underground passageway, showering us with debris. Screams echoed from the dumbwaiter entrance, where Fox’s men would have been caught in a cave-in. Noemie had found the detonator. Another systematic blast followed the first, and a giant crack split the stone above us with a groan.
Fox’s head snapped up toward the ceiling then back at me. “What have you done?”
He lurched forward, his lips curled back in a snarl. The second between aiming the firearm and pulling the trigger lost itself in my adrenaline rush. Two shots ripped through Fox’s midsection before my brain registered firing the gun. Stunned, he looked down at his stomach, where blood seeped through the expensive fabric of his pearly white designer shirt. Then he dropped to the ground.
The echo of the gunshots rang against my eardrums. I stared at Fox, who lay sprawled at my feet, until Noemie heaved me upward by my armpits with a remarkable amount of strength for such a elfin woman.
“Leave him,” she told me. “Let’s go.”
And together we fled into the beckoning darkness as L’hotel Douloureux crumbled to ash behind us.
Christian dropped Mac’s Glock as she chucked him to the ground. He landed with a dull thud against the concrete. Mac didn’t stop there. She rotated toward Emmett and punched him in the throat. He gagged, keeling over. Mac wrenched the rifle out of his grip, emptied the chamber, and tossed the ammunition across the room, but when she leaned down to pick up her Glock from the floor, Christian swept his legs toward her feet. She deftly leapt over them, but just as quickly, he swung back in the opposite direction, catching Mac at a tricky angle. She tripped over Christian’s shin, stumbled, but managed to remain upright. Unfortunately, Christian’s stunt had given Emmett the time to recover. He lunged toward the officer. His first punch went without purchase as Mac ducked under his oncoming fist. Then, Christian tackled Mac around the waist, bringing her and Emmett both down to the ground.
The trio rolled by me, and Emmett’s head knocked against my leg as he struggled to separate Mac’s new grip from Christian. I surged forward and caught Emmett around the neck with my zip-tied hands. He bucked in surprise, releasing Mac to scrabble against my arm. I hung on and squeezed my elbow tight against his throat. Emmett’s forehead reddened as he stumbled to his feet, taking me with him. He turned and slammed me against the railing of the stairs. I tucked my head forward just in time. My back took the full brunt of the hit, knocking the wind out of me.
On the floor, Mac and Christian grappled with one another over possession of the Glock. Mac locked her legs around Christian’s midsection and yanked his arm straight across her torso. With a loud snap, his elbow broke. His earsplitting yell bounced off the basement walls, but the dislocation of his arm allowed him to slip easily out of Mac’s startled hold. He flung himself across the floor and grabbed ahold of the Glock with his uninjured arm. The other dangled uselessly at his side as he aimed at Holly.
“No!” I screamed into Emmett’s ear.
The gun fired twice as Mac dove toward Christian. Both shots landed. The first grazed Holly’s rib cage. The second embedded itself in Mac’s thigh.
Holly, eyes wide, clapped a hand to her side. Blood, the same rusty red color as her Belle Dame varsity fastpitch T-shirt, welled up and trickled through the spaces between her fingers. She looked down at her drenched hand, silent, then glanced behind her, where the bullet had lodged itself in the cinderblock wall. Time slowed. It was like the car accident all over again, only this time I was too far from Holly to protect her.
“Bridget?” she said, her voice several octaves higher than normal. “I think I got a little bit shot.”
Before I could reply, her head lolled, and she was unconscious again. Emmett reached over his shoulder, seized the back of my shirt, and tossed me forward, effectively dislodging my grip from around his neck. As he loomed over me, I curled my knees up and kicked out, landing my heels against his stomach, and rolled free of his immediate reach. Across the room, Mac and Christian fought in a pool of blood. Mac, her expression twisted with pain, dug her fingers into the fracture of Christian’s arm. As he screamed, she pried the Glock free from his other hand. He flipped over, pinning Mac to the concrete, and pressed his knee against the gunshot wound in her thigh. Her hands disappeared beneath his massive torso.
“Stupid bitch,” he snarled in her face.
Another gunshot ripped through the basement.
“Who’s stupid now?” Mac challenged, and she heaved Christian’s body off of her. She rolled over, leveling the Glock at Emmett. “Don’t move!”
But Emmett was never particularly talented at obeying instructions. He stepped over me toward Holly. Mac fired and missed, the bullet whizzing by Emmett’s calf. When I re
alized what he was doing, I made a wild grab for his jeans, linking my fingers through his belt loops. Without hesitation, he grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my head against the concrete. The basement spun as pain radiated through my neck. Which way was up?
“Mac!” I yelled hoarsely. “Shoot him!”
“I can’t! Not without hurting Holly!”
She was fading anyway, her eyes shifting in and out of focus as the blood drained from the wound in her leg. Even if she did have a clear shot at Emmett, her aim would be off.
Emmett hauled Holly up from the ground, cradling her in his arms with a perversely gentle touch. He shouldered open the door to the side yard and stepped out into the starlit night.
“Holly!”
My head throbbed as I lurched to my feet and staggered after Emmett. The full moon shone down on the grass, too serene and sleepy for the situation at hand. In the driveway, Emmett loaded Holly into the back seat of his truck. My feet would not cooperate. They plodded across the landscaping when they should have been sprinting. Emmett slammed the door shut, trapping my little sister inside, and leaped into the driver’s seat. The engine turned over, filling my head with a resounding roar. I cleared the hedge that bordered the driveway, but it was too late. Emmett threw the truck in reverse, backed out onto the neighborhood street, and sped off down the road, taking Holly with him.
“No!” I howled, sinking to my knees at the edge of the driveway. A stench rose from the concrete. The burnt rubber from Emmett’s tires.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone must have called in the gunshots. Did it matter? Holly was gone again. I’d let her slip through my fingers. She was hurt, bleeding, sick, and under the care of a deranged man. Would I ever see her alive again?
A ringtone tinkled in the night air, and a screen lit up in the grass near the driveway. I dove toward it. It was Emmett’s phone. He must have dropped it in his haste to get Holly into the truck. It buzzed impatiently. Someone was calling him from an unknown number. I pressed accept and lifted the phone to my ear.
Deadly Visions Boxset Page 83