Get Lucky (29 page)

“‘High’ hardly describes what this drug does to you. ‘High’ implies you’re enjoying the sensations stimulated around you. My drug renders you blank, steals your free will. Claude wanted to take some of the most stubborn, bullheaded men who were known for upholding our laws by breaking them and turn them into his pawns. I do love my husband, whether you believe it or not.” Her words might have been more convincing if she weren’t standing in front of Marc naked. “But he’s not man enough to control pawns of that magnitude. I needed to show him if he wanted in on the game he would need pawns he could control, and not ones who would inevitably destroy him.”

“You set him up to fail so he would choose pawns that were more submissive from the beginning?” Marc searched her face and knew he was right. Now that he understood her motivation, he needed to learn more about this game and, most important, who the other players in the game were. Others would be abducted to play this war game. Marc needed names and locations. But, at the least, names.

“Claude believed the other men were also bounty hunters. I brought them in. All I had to do was find large, muscular men who were full of themselves and he believed me. Claude lured you and your family in. It was my idea to send the little slut in Colorado pictures of her parents once I knew you were sniffing around her. My theory was correct that you would insist on protecting her. She was the perfect distraction, for both you and her parents, which made it easier to capture both of you.”

“Her parents were sent pictures, too?” Snapping at Evelyn for calling London a slut would distract her from the conversation. He was pretty sure she’d insulted London to test him anyway, and he was done being Evelyn’s personal guinea pig for whatever hypothesis she wanted to explore at that moment.

“Jonnie Brooke knows his line of work well. When I sent the Brookes pictures of their daughter with a famous bounty hunter sniffing around her, they immediately grew suspicious. They panicked, thinking you were going through her to find them.” Evelyn smiled. “Which I might have suggested you were doing.”

“What about the private investigator who came to the lodge questioning London about her parents?”

Evelyn frowned. “I don’t know anything about a private investigator.” She snorted. “More than likely he was legitimate. The Brookes are crooks, scam artists, and I’m sure on quite a few hit lists.”

Marc wasn’t a strong advocate of coincidence. He made a mental note to learn more about the PI who’d been sniffing around London. “So why abduct bounty hunters and thieves? What kind of game is this?”

“Enough questions for now, Neanderthal. We’ll continue with your education after my bath.” She placed her shampoo and conditioner on the edge of the tub. “Get undressed.”

Marc raised one eyebrow. “Why would I get undressed?”

She gestured at the bathwater. “I thought you could scrub my back. After all, I’m the one who drove all night, not you.”

Marc looked at the items she’d scattered across the counter. Picking up one of those round, rough balls he remembered seeing in London’s shower, he tossed it and caught it in his hand. “I tell you what. I’m not getting in the water with you and I think you know you can’t force me. I’ll kneel next to the tub and scrub your back.” He looked at the other items on the counter, focusing on tweezers and spotting fingernail clippers. Far from surgical equipment, but his options were limited. He returned his attention to Evelyn, pulling off his shirt. “Climb in,” he encouraged.

“Now you know I’m not going to relax in a hot bath so you can leave.” She seemed to forgot she was naked. Wagging her finger in the air, she made a tsking sound. “Don’t ever treat me as if I were stupid.”

“I’m not getting in the tub. Better start grinding your teeth. Don’t lose a filling over it,” he mumbled, turning his back to her and picking up the fingernail clippers.

Marc moved fast, not only because he knew it would hurt like hell but also because he might not hit his mark if she jumped on him.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked when he raised his arm over his head, faced the mirror, and brought the clippers to the soft flesh under his arm.

Marc ignored her, pressing the clippers into the foreign objects just under his skin and grabbing them between the metal. He clenched his own teeth when he squeezed, feeling the pain ransack his body as he closed his eyes and focused on yanking the small cylindrical objects out of his body.

“God! Stop it!” She did jump at him, grabbing his arm that held the clippers and hanging on when she couldn’t make him lower his arm.

He braced himself, using her attack to distract the pain and instead focused on remaining still when she lunged at him.

“You’re nuts. God, you idiot. You’re bleeding everywhere.”

“You’re not helping matters.” Marc threw her off him. It was more instinct when he was unable to prevent his body from reacting to the pain consuming his body.

He didn’t pay attention when Evelyn fell backward. There was blood everywhere, making it damn hard to make sure he had the small objects out of his arm. Holding his arm high, he forced himself to keep the small silver fingernail clippers in his arm until he thought he had both small, cylindrical bloody tubes. Marc dropped the clippers, which were drenched with blood, into a small glass cup next to the sink and grabbed one of the towels folded on a rack on the wall. It wasn’t until then that he noticed he’d hurled Evelyn into the tub.

The way she was splashing around, fighting to get out and cussing him out at the same time, was enough proof she wasn’t hurt.

“I’m not going to be your insurance policy,” he growled, wrapping the towel around his arm and enduring the pain as he struggled to put his shirt back on. “In fact, it would help me if you stayed in there. Enjoy your bath, Blondie.”

She probably had more clothes somewhere, but it bought him a couple minutes when he grabbed her clothes with his uninjured arm and threw them in the tub with her.

“Marc, you don’t understand,” she wailed. “You can’t leave me. This isn’t about you, or me. You don’t understand.”

She was destroying the bathroom, splashing water everywhere. She began cussing him out worse than before when he tossed the towels in with her as well. It would probably be the last time she ever asked for a room with a sunken tub. Marc grabbed her arm, feeling the pain streak through him and ransack his body. He swore getting shot didn’t hurt this bad.

“I don’t think
you
understand,” he said, trying to stay patient when he wanted to knock her out and insure her silence. “
I’m c not c staying c with c you,
” he said, stressing each word slowly as he forced her down into the water.

“You’re not leaving, damn it!” She dug her nails into his arm, inflicting even more pain.

Marc was raised not to hurt a lady, no matter how evil or demented she might be. His upbringing on treating women with respect didn’t leave him even now. But he did manage to shake her free of him, which caused her to lose her balance and fall into the water again. Her rear end hit the bottom of the tub and her arms flew up in the air while her pretty-much-soaked hair slapped against her face. Water flew out of the tub as if someone had tossed a small bomb into the tub.

He ignored her and grabbed the small drinking glass with the fingernail clippers and the capsules in it, soaking in a small pool of his blood. Taking the plastic that had been wrapped over the top of the glass, he secured the contents, left the bathroom, then pulled the hotel room door closed behind him. Marc was grateful the nice hotel had thick walls. The moment he took off down the hallway he no longer heard Blondie yelling. Marc took the stairs instead of the elevator, pausing in the stairwell and yanking the drenched hand towel out from under his shirt. It was completely soaked with blood. He would be ruining someone’s night when they found the towel, but he wasn’t about to take it with him.

It was time to endure the pain and pray he wouldn’t bleed up a storm before he reached the lobby. He smiled at the lady who’d just checked him and Evelyn into their room when he reached the front desk.

“Have the valet bring our car around, please,” he drawled, grinning at her.

“Of course, Mr. VanCooper,” she said, reaching for her phone.

Marc nodded, walking out the front door to wait for the car. As long as Blondie didn’t fly into the lobby in a mad rage, all he would have to deal with was the pain in his arm. He glanced up and down the curved drive, staring into a dark parking garage and praying the valet service wasn’t backed up.

There wasn’t anyone else around and Marc knew the kid probably hoped for a good tip when he pulled up in the small dark green Honda Evelyn had stashed underground as her getaway car.

“Nice evening, isn’t it, Mr. VanCooper?” the valet asked when he strutted around the Honda and handed Marc the keys.

“It just got a lot nicer,” Marc said, grinning at the kid as he hurried around him and slid into the car. The pain was so bad he prayed he’d be able to navigate his way out of Phoenix. One thing, though, he was sure he’d remember a name as odd as VanCooper. Marc wondered if it was Claude and Evelyn’s real last name.

Chapter Seventeen

London squinted against the morning sun and hugged herself against the cold. She went from wanting to help to feeling as if she wasn’t wanted or needed there. Men and women scoured the area, walking over the frozen desert with equipment they were using to search for Marc. Apparently Evelyn VanCooper, Claude’s wife, who was the man London had shot in the office, was also missing. As the sun slowly climbed against the flat, gray sky, more and more police and other officials who weren’t in uniform continued showing up until there was a line of cars parked up and down the two-lane highway.

“We’re heading out,” her father said, coming up behind her and touching her shoulder. “Your mother has a headache and it’s too cold to stand out here.”

London nodded, facing both of them. “It was good seeing both of you.” She knew her parents were getting the hell out of Dodge. More than likely they’d answered a few questions, promised to stay in the area to assist with the investigation, and would now disappear while everyone was too busy to notice.

“You too, baby girl,” her father said, ruffling her hair.

“Maybe we can get to Aspen sometime soon.” Her mother smiled at London and actually looked like she was serious.

London nodded, refusing to get her hopes up that she would see either of them again anytime soon. “Take care of yourselves,” she said, her voice cracking. She hugged both of them and pulled away before she made a scene.

Her parents hurried to a nearby car. London didn’t have a clue who was giving them a ride or where they were taking her parents. She sucked in a ragged breath, filling her lungs with the frigid cold morning air. The two of them climbed into a backseat. She couldn’t see them anymore and was pretty sure neither of them looked back to see her. They were probably busy plotting how they could put all of this behind them and prevent any investigator from digging too deep into their backgrounds. London returned her attention to everyone working around her. She needed to focus on what she should do now, too. Her parents would be fine. That much of her life, at least, was back to normal.

Marc’s father, Greg King, walked across the field with Jake alongside him. Haley hadn’t returned when her husband did, and London had been told she remained at the hospital in Flagstaff with Natasha. There wasn’t any report on Natasha’s condition.

“We’re going back into town,” Jake announced, cutting across the field.

“Okay.” London prayed she didn’t look too lost when Jake’s father moved to stand next to his son. The two men were so big, so tall, their presence overwhelming. She tried to think of something to say.

“Come on,” Jake said, gesturing with his head. “You’re not staying out here by yourself with no one to give you a ride.”

She’d come to Flagstaff with Marc and drove down here with Natasha. It hadn’t occurred to London until this moment that she didn’t have a ride. Not that she had anywhere to go. Returning to Aspen didn’t feel like an option.

“So you’re leaving?” She scanned the field. It wasn’t right leaving without Marc, but this was his family. London wanted to say they should stay put until he was found.

“London,” Greg said, speaking her name slowly and with a deep, commanding baritone. “Marc isn’t here.”

She nodded quickly, biting her lower lip. She didn’t lose it when her parents walked away from her; she wouldn’t lose it in front of these two men she barely knew.

“Let’s get coffee, warm up,” Jake said, holding his arm out and dropping it when she walked alongside him to the line of cars. “We’re going to find him,” he whispered, looking down at her and searching her face when she glanced at him.

There was dirt stained across his face. His clothes hung on him wrong and were wrinkled as if he’d slept in them for days. Jake had endured an underground jail cell and he was reassuring her.

She smiled, determined to be strong. “More than likely he’ll find us.”

“They’ve got Claude VanCooper in the same hospital where Natasha is,” Greg offered when they reached Marc’s Mustang. It was dirty with highway grunge plastered to both sides of it. Greg and Jake didn’t say anything about it, and it was too cold to go to a car wash. London knew Marc would find a way to clean his car. In Aspen, the Mustang had always been immaculately clean. Greg walked around to the driver’s seat, looking over the hood at both of them. “Apparently, when he isn’t throwing a fit demanding to be flown to a hospital suitable for a man of his station, he’s singing like a canary.”

Jake opened the passenger door and she pushed the front seat forward, climbing into the backseat.

“He’s blaming the whole thing on his wife,” Greg continued, turning on the car and adjusting heat vents, although between him and Jake the two men were so large not much heat blew back to her. “Claude is denying any knowledge of a game, or abducting any of us with intentions of forcing us into some kind of war activity.”

“He’s lying.” Jake stared straight ahead, leaning back in his seat and looking exhausted. He sounded mad, though. “We all heard him and the guards. We can testify.”

“This won’t go to court,” Greg stated, shooting a hard glance at his son. “You can bet my word on that. I’m willing to wager it will all disappear, without any of us being contacted for any further questioning.”

London wanted to ask why, but she felt she was eavesdropping on a private conversation. Neither one of them glanced back at her, but they continued discussing what had happened to them while they were underground and what they’d seen. They’d been through a horrendous experience.

“You’re going to document everything you remember,” Greg told Jake. “Write all of it down. Your mother and I are going to do the same. This is the second time we’ve been pulled into this game, and I’m going to find out what it’s all about.”

“Do you think someone will come after us again?” Jake didn’t sound scared but more curious when he leaned his head back on the seat, closing his eyes.

“We’re high profile.” Greg relaxed one hand on the steering wheel and stared ahead of him at the two-lane highway they were taking back into Flagstaff. “Natasha did the right thing closing down the office to come out here and I’m not going to hold it against her. But word will spread quickly that we shut down at the same time Claude VanCooper went down. It might take a while to get back to us, but in the right circle word will spread and put us even more in the spotlight.”

“Sounds like we need to figure out where that right circle is,” Jake said.

London wondered if Marc was already in that circle.