Captive, Mine (4 page)

The trooper turned away, only giving Lake the smallest of nods. “Freeman.”

Prick.

DeSalvo stepped close. “One thing, Mister Freeman. You’re tagging along
only
. You do what I say, when I say. Clear?”

Lake snorted, holding out his hand toward the car and the waiting Lily. “Shall we?”

“You wait right here. I’m going to speak with Ms. Cross first.”

DeSalvo walked back to Lily, and they spoke for a moment. The marshal looked back at him, scowling, Lily’s voice rising, a finger jabbed in Lake’s direction.

The girl had fire, there was no doubt about that. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with the Cross clan. Too bad she used that fire to run that smart mouth of hers. Then the image of her on her knees, looking up at him with fright in her eyes, popped into his mind. Keeping those kind of thoughts away was something he had to do — no exceptions.

He turned away, rubbing a palm over his lips. He wasn’t about to fuck up this last job because he couldn’t keep his shit wired tight. No, there was no room for this. Not now, not ever. There was only this one last step, then none of it would matter anymore.

It’s going to matter a helluva lot to her.

But that couldn’t be helped anymore. Perhaps once — but that Lake was gone now. He shook his head, cursing under his breath.

DeSalvo opened the front passenger door, helping Lily inside with a hand on her arm. Then, straightening his jacket, he walked back toward Lake. DeSalvo raised a hand with a smile as the sergeant pulled out of the parking lot with a short, sharp squawk of the cruiser’s PA system.

“So”—the marshal glanced back at the idling car with Lily inside—”you ready to do this?”

“Of course. You went a little far with that ‘by-the-book’ shtick, don’t you think?”

“Eh, it’s fun, you know? Gotta have fun with this shit when you can.” DeSalvo cracked a grin devoid of warmth or compassion, his white canines gleaming in the low light giving him a predatory mien. “You’re welcome to sample her before it’s done. Boss doesn’t care as long as it’s done — really done. Quick, clean. No mess.”

Lake felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “The deal was delivery, that’s it.”

“And you’ll get your cut.” DeSalvo tipped his back toward the car. “No sense in passing up a good thing though while you’re at it. Perks of the job? She’s a little piece. Even better than I thought. Almost a shame, really.”

Ransoming the little brat was one thing. He knew how much she meant to Emmanuel Cross, and once he got wind that the cartel had her, Lake knew the man would nix everything. He’d sit in a jail cell until the end of time waiting for his daughter to be returned. Once the case fell apart, the DA would have no choice but to take what he had and throw everything at Cross. She’d be released, but her father would know: as long you’re in prison, you continue to keep your mouth shut — because she’ll always be there, still vulnerable.

The cartel stays safe, and she stays safe. There was a time Lake would have bristled at the very idea of a job like this, but that time was no longer. The Cross family was of no concern to him — even though he’d been hired by the one to protect the other.

They were accessories to drug dealers. Perhaps she wasn’t,
technically
— but she sure wasn’t an angel either. It didn’t matter anymore though. It was the last run, the final job. And he’d end it there.

One last mission… then he’d be done with what he’d become. And the world would be rid of Lake Freeman and the work he was so good at.

This was something else
entirely
. Brutalizing and defiling a captive was not anything he’d ever sign up for. This was not part of the plan, something outside mission parameters. His mind raced, weighing timing, risks, chances, likelihood of success. Improvisation was rare and dangerous — but it was sometimes a necessary evil. The bitter irony that it would be so urgently called for now on the last mission of his career was not lost on Lake.

DeSalvo was sloppy, but he was dangerous too. Lake had checked out the background of all the cartel goons he could, and DeSalvo, corrupt though he was, still would be a problem.

A US Marshal-sized problem.

* * *

L
ily looked back at Lake from the front seat with a twist of her lips. “Why are you sitting back there?”

“Mr. US Marshal doesn’t like me very much.”

“A lot better scenery,” DeSalvo said softly, looking left as he changed lanes, the engine thrumming pleasingly as he worked the Crown Victoria around a slower-moving eighteen-wheeler.

Lily snapped a look at DeSalvo, her mouth opening, then faced forward once again. She’d kept her coat on, even with the heater working nicely. The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten behind them.

“Where are you taking us, Mr. DeSalvo?”

“Rick, please,” he said, giving her a quick smile that looked to Lake like a death totem. “I’ll give you the details when we get closer. Protocol, sorry.”

She waved a hand, with a small, resigned sigh.

“I’ve got a question, Ms. Cross.” DeSalvo reached into the pocket of his coat, retrieving a pair of leather gloves. He alternated holding the wheel with one hand and then the other, pulling the gloves on with his teeth. “What would you be prepared to do to save your life?”

Lily’s big eyes turned slowly to DeSalvo. “I don’t… what’s that supposed to mean?”

Lake felt his heartbeat pick up speed, thudding in his chest now. He quietly opened the small black case with a snick of the hasp. The cloth was in a clear plastic bag, and he pulled it out, careful to keep it at arm’s length.

“I mean, what if you were about to be killed?” DeSalvo rested his elbow on the back of his seat. “Is there
anything
you wouldn’t do to survive?”

“You’re creeping me the fuck out with—”

Lake lunged forward, clamping his left arm down across her chest, just above the rise of her breasts, pulling back hard. His right hand pressed the cloth to her face, but not hard enough to completely cut off her air. The chemical would do its work as she drew in that first huge, panicky breath, her body readying to fight. She writhed under his grip, her strength surprising, and — shockingly, to him — not exactly unappealing either. Her voice shrieked against the cloth, her hands scratching first at the arms of his coat, then her nails scoring deep furrows of white-hot pain down the back of his hand. In moments, the strength drained from her like water through a sieve, and she finally stilled, her arms dropping into her lap.

It was done, and now there was no going back.

Chapter 4

I
t was cold. I woke up in a pitch-black room lying on something relatively soft, a mattress maybe, on my side, hands bound behind my back and something covering my mouth. I inhaled a deep, shaky breath, telling myself not to panic, which was impossible. I huddled into myself, shivering, trying not to move, mentally scanning my body for injury, which, apart from aches of where I’d been manhandled, I didn’t find.

There was no sound in the room aside from my own breathing. I opened my eyes but could see nothing — it was too dark. The last thing I remembered were DeSalvo’s words, the look on his face, then being pinned back to the seat, Lake holding me with a cloth pressed against my nose and mouth. Chloroform. He’d held it there until I had passed out.

Something scurried across the mattress and I gasped and tried to scream but the tape over my mouth prevented that. I sat up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I was alone. Or at least I thought I was alone. The room had no windows of any kind. The only light that penetrated was that from beneath a door which looked to be that of a garage. I could make out several boxes stacked against the walls but that was all. I wondered if I was in some sort of storage unit.

There was some movement outside then. I tried to stand but that was difficult with my hands cuffed behind my back, so I made noise — as much as I could from behind the tape.

The garage door opened. I squinted against the too-bright fluorescent light blocked only by his form. His large, thick body taking up too much space as he stood, a set of keys dangling from one hand, his clothes slightly disheveled, a smearing of what might have been blood across his shirt.

I sat on my knees and stared up at him, my bodyguard. The grin with which I was met chilled me and I couldn’t make another sound. I think my heart stopped altogether for a moment then.

“Cold in here,” Lake said, looking around the storage unit.

When he took a step toward me, I sat back on my heels. It was all I could do to put some space between us.

He ignored me completely and rifled through one of the boxes, selecting whatever he was looking for and tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. I thought I glimpsed the black metal of a pistol but he covered it with his shirt too quickly for me to see.

“How long have you been up?”

I tried to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing but it only came out as one jumbled noise from behind the tape covering my mouth.

“What’s that?” he asked, reaching for me.

I almost fell over when I tried to back up but he grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. The first thing I did was bring my knee up to his crotch. Or attempted to at least.

“Hey!” he said, as if he were issuing some command to a dog. “Play nice.” He squeezed my arm hard. “A little gratitude for saving your fucking life would be nice.”

I exhaled hard through my nose and stood still, waiting for him to soften his hold on me. When he did, I attacked again, this time managing to connect my knee to his crotch.

He released me and doubled over, but his eyes never left mine. I stood there staring at him for a second before the instinct to run kicked in. But I’d barely taken one step when he gripped the neck of my coat and tugged hard enough that I fell onto the mattress. He was beside me in an instant, pushing me onto my back, his hand around my throat.

“Be good, Lily,” he said, reaching into his pocket to take out a Ziploc bag with what I knew to be the chloroform-drenched cloth inside. “I could knock you out until we get to where we’re going, but I’m trying to be nice.”

I made some noise, wanting the gag off, wanting to know what was going on. I figured he didn’t want me dead. He would have killed me already if that were the case. Where was the US Marshal? What was it he’d said last night?
“Is there anything you wouldn’t do to survive?”

Lake was watching me and he seemed to relax as I did. I wanted him to take the gag off. I made some small noise of surrender, a temporary surrender, which he seemed to understand since he smiled.

“You want the tape off?”

I nodded desperately.

“You going to be quiet?”

I nodded again. It was less enthusiastic this time.

“I’m going to stand you up now and we’re going to walk to my car. Once there, I’ll take it off. If you’re good. If not, it stays on for the rest of the drive, understand?”

Yes, I understood. I had zero choice.

“Good girl,” he said, standing and hauling me to my feet.

I imagined there wasn’t anyone around if he was going to walk me to his car so obviously against my will so I went along with him. He kept one hand on me as he secured the door of the unit and we walked down the deserted corridor and outside. It was daylight, late afternoon I’d say, and we were alone. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of a freeway but the storage facility itself was in the middle of nowhere.

We walked to a parked black truck similar to the one we’d driven in when we had left the city. The windows on this one however were tinted black. It was the only vehicle in the lot.

He unlocked the passenger-side door and gestured for me to enter. I couldn’t help but glance once more at the red stain on the front of his shirt, not at all sure I wanted to know what it was. I stepped a foot up but bound as I was, Lake had to help me in. He closed the door once I was inside and walked over to the driver’s side. After climbing in, he made a point of opening the glove compartment and placing what he’d taken from the box into it. He then locked the compartment. I’d been right: it was a revolver.

“Turn your back to me,” he said, fishing in his pocket for something.

My eyes grew wider and I shook my head.

He held up the small key. “I’ll cuff your hands in front of you. It will be more comfortable,” he began, then made a show of putting the key away again. “But if you’d prefer…”

I shook my head no and did as he said, keeping one eye on him over my shoulder. When he unlocked the cuffs, I immediately reached for the tape at my mouth.

“Uh-uh,” he said, taking my hand and re-cuffing me, then placing my hands in my lap.

I started to say something about doing what he’d said, that we had a deal, but he just sat back and listened to the jumble of sound until I stopped.

“No screaming, no hysterics when I take it off, understood?”

I nodded and he took a corner of the tape.

“This might hurt a little,” he said with a grin on his face as he yanked the tape off.