Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (49 page)

Shivering uncontrollably, Jewels stood with her arms tightly wrapped around her chest. Her updo looked like it had been teased with electric egg beaters. Her Aphrodite face was tear-streaked and contorted in torment.

“Put the fuckin’ gun down, or I’ll blow her head off,” Hines demanded, tapping the muzzle of the MP-5 against the side of Jewels’ neck.

Pinching her eyes shut, she chewed her lip.

Marshall instantly froze, visually analyzing the rogue agent. Dead like a king cobra, Hines’ eyes were steady, void of emotion. Face, the mask of a plotting madman. Body, tense and on edge, primed for action. And his finger was curled around the trigger of the submachine gun.

Concluding Hines really would kill Jewels, not just threaten to do so, he gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Okay, Hines, I’m gonna put the rifle down, but this isn’t over,” he said, slowly lowering the AR to the ground.

Standing motionless, eyes expanded to cartoon proportions, Jewels’ mouth gaped in stunned silence, staring at Marshall.

“Now kick that gun over here,” Hines said to Marshall, waving the MP-5 at him.

Narrowing his eyes, he had no intention of giving up that weapon.

Reading the defiance in his eyes, Hines stabbed the gun into Jewels’ neck again.

She grimaced.

“Kick that fuckin’ rifle over here and get your hands up where I can see ‘em,” he ordered, grinding the barrel deeper into Jewels’ neck.

She let out a childlike whimper.

Marshall knew he had no choice. Setting his jaw, reluctantly he kicked the gun over to Hines’ feet and raised his hands out to the side as if under arrest.

Latching onto Jewels’ wrist, Hines forced her arm behind her back and jerked her to his side, opening a path to the cabin door. To Watters: “Now move it. Into the cabin. And remember, any false move and the coroner won’t find enough of Sweet Cheeks’ head to make a positive ID,” he warned, roughly stuffing the barrel of the gun into Jewels’ neck for the fourth time.

Hesitantly, Marshall marched toward the cabin door.

With the intensity of a cat stalking a mouse, Hines watched Marshall. When he was within the doorway: “Hold it right there. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em and don’t move or turn around unless you want Jewels’ brains scattered all over your back. Understood?”

“Affirmative,” Marshall said.

Turning to Jewels: “Pick it up nice and easy and hand it to me,” Hines said, motioning with his head at the AR while keeping the MP-5 securely pressed against her neck.

Awkwardly, she bent sideways, picked up the AR, held it in front of her body.

“I’m going to remove this muzzle from your neck just a wee bit and when I do, I want you to slow and easy, slide the sling of that AR over my arm and onto my back. Understood?”

Doing exactly as Hines instructed, Jewels slung the rifle over his arm and across his back.

“Everybody in,” Hines ordered.

With his hands still raised up and out to his side, Marshall entered the cabin. After taking a few steps, he turned around to face Hines.

Releasing his grasp on Jewels, angrily he shoved her toward Marshall, like a pissed-off husband throwing his unfaithful wife at the scum of a man who had lured her into sin.

Jewels fell into Marshall. Catching her, his muscular arms broke her fall. They were strong. Familiar. Warm and comforting. Nothing at all like Hines’
hug
in the Escalade.

Quickly removing the magazine, Hines unloaded the AR, dumping the gun on the floor next to the door and tossing the magazine toward the fireplace. It landed by the plywood cabinet doors.

“Are you okay?” Marshall asked, steadying Jewels on her feet.

Gazing up at him, her brows compressed. Squinting, she looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language and was trying to understand him. “I-I thought you were dead,” she whispered, caressing his chiseled jaw with the back of her hand.

“Reunion’s over,” Hines thundered, clanking another round in the chamber of the submachine gun, just for effect.

A shiver zipped Jewels’ spine.

Marshall picked up on it, pushed her behind him.

“Down on your knees, fingers laced behind your head,” Hines ordered Marshall, training the front sight of the MP-5 on his chest.

Marshall complied. Like a curtain being dropped, his sinking body revealed Jewels. She stood as a rock, her face still painted in a look of disbelief that Marshall Watters was alive.

Hines stepped closer to Marshall, aimed the submachine gun at his ear, looked at Jewels, “Say good-bye to your wanna be hero.”

“No! Don’t hurt him,” Jewels screamed, thrusting her body in front of the gun.

A menacing grin sprouted on Hines’ face, clearly realizing Marshall Watters could actually help him get want he wanted from Jewels: her cooperation.

“Please, Theo. Don’t kill him,” she begged.

Raising the barrel and pointing it at the ceiling, “As you wish, Sweet Cheeks,” he said, motioning for her to move away from Marshall.

Sighing with relief and eyeing Hines, “Thank you,” she uttered, stepping to the side of Marshall.

Patting down Marshall to make sure he wasn’t packing a concealed weapon, Hines stopped, fished his hand into Marshall’s back pocket. “Hmm. Can’t have this,” he said, pulling out a little key, holding it up in front of his face.

“What’s that?” Jewels asked, genuinely clueless.

Hines smirked. “Handcuff key.”

“Oh.” Jewels raised her eyebrows, knowing from experience SPOF prison guard, Marshall Watters, had a handcuff key in his possession ... after all, by order of Cooman, he had used it to free her of the metal restraints not long after she was
introduced
to him.

Dumping the handcuff key in his shirt pocket, Hines pulled a pair of Smith & Wesson handcuffs from the back of his belt. Opening the jaws, he tossed them at Jewels’ gut.

She caught them like a football.

“Cuff him.”

“No,” Jewels said acidly, eyes seething as she hurled the cuffs back at Hines.

Snatching them out of the air with one hand, he kept his attention on Jewels. His eyes narrowed and smoldered. Nostrils flared. Lips crimped under controlled fury. Stomping over to Marshall, Hines jammed the muzzle of the MP-5 into the side of his head and dangled the handcuffs from his pointer finger in Jewels’ face. “I said, cuff him, or so help me God, Julia, I’ll splatter this motherfucker’s brains over this cabin.”

Sighing, “That won’t be necessary,” she said frigidly, plucking the cuffs off Hines’ finger. “I’ve never done this before, so what do you want ... what do I do?”

Flashing his special
alligator grin
at Jewels, Hines took a step back from Marshall, keeping the muzzle of the MP-5 aimed at his head. “Open the cuff, put it around his right wrist and close the jaw,” he said, waiting for Jewels to perform the prescribed task before continuing.

The metal jaw made a ratcheting noise as it clamped around Marshall’s wrist.

“Now pull his cuffed hand down behind his back.”

With Marshall’s full cooperation, she did.

“Good. Now bring his left hand down behind his back, open the other jaw, put it around his wrist and close it. Then you’re done.”

With an eagle eye, he supervised Jewels’ actions to ensure she had clamped the metal strands tightly enough around Marshall’s wrists. Satisfied with her work, he nodded for her to step aside.

Jewels obeyed. Stood close to Marshall’s shoulder. Gazed fondly at her captured ally.

Out of habit, Hines followed standard law enforcement procedure. Inserting his handcuff key upside down into the double-lock slot of the handcuff frame, he slid the lock spring over. Double-locking ensures the subject’s circulation is not impeded. More importantly to Hines, double-locking would make it more difficult for him to escape.

Marshall knelt, facing the door. Hands cuffed behind his back. Head drooping. Eyes gazing at the floor. The woman he had intended to save standing next him. Both prisoners. Obviously not the rescue he had planned.

Kicking the side of Marshall’s thigh, “Okay, Hero,” Hines growled keeping the sight of the gun trained on his chest. “Look at me.”

Raising his head, Marshall’s eyes narrowed with contempt.

Opening Marshall’s too-small BDU jacket with a swift flick from the toe of his shoe, Hines cautiously bent over at the waist to inspect the black and blue marks on his chest. “Sneaky bastard. That explains why you aren’t dead!” Pausing for a moment, then: “So what kind of badass wears Kevlar?”

“The U.S. government kind,” Marshall replied caustically. “I’m a federal agent with the Militia Threat Assessment Force. Heard of us?”

Jewels’ jaw dropped.

Hines’ face milked white. “Yeah, I heard about you weasely MTAF pricks; some covert ops group that reports directly to the President.”

“That’s right, and you’re busted, Hines. We’ve been watching you. We know you’re behind those Jefferson’s

Warriors’ crimes. It’s over—”

“If it’s so fucking over, why are you the one in cuffs?” Hines interrupted with a snarl. Raising the gun above his head, he brought it down swiftly, smashing Marshall in the face with the butt of the folding stock. “Elitist prick,” he yelled, watching Marshall crumble to the floor.

“Don’t,” Jewels shrieked, dropping to her knees at Marshall’s side, caressing his face.

Marshall groaned. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. He was conscious. Barely.

Hines’ face brightened, watching Jewels hover over Marshall. “This confirms what I suspected. Marshall Watters is your Achilles’ heel. Now I own you, Sweet Cheeks.”

Jewels glared with contempt at him.

“Get up,” Hines ordered, gesturing with the gun she should rise to her feet.

Turning away from Hines, she ignored his command to instead focus on Marshall.

With the toe of his shoe, Hines delivered a quick stab to Marshall’s chest.

Marshall groaned.

“Stop it,” Jewels screamed, jumping to her feet.

“Now that’s better. A wife should always obey her husband.”

“I’m not your wife!”

“You will be, so you better get used to it,” he said with confidence. Tipping his head toward Marshall, he instructed Jewels, “Get him over to the bed.”

Inhaling a deep breath, she bent down, touched Marshall’s face. “Can you get up?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he said weakly.

Jewels helped him to his feet, which was quite a task considering Marshall’s size and the fact his hands were cuffed behind his back. Once standing, Jewels slipped her arm around his, allowing his body to lean slightly against hers as she guided him toward the bed.

Pushing the cabin door shut with his foot, Hines followed closely behind them. Just as Jewels was about to let Marshall collapse onto the bed, “No. Take him over there,” he ordered, motioning with his head to the back wall by the nightstand.

Jewels scowled at Hines, readjusted her arm around Marshall’s waist, escorted him around the bottom of the bed to the wall. Leaned his back against it.

“Very good. Now tie Marshall’s hands to the big eye-hook screwed midway up the log wall. The one about waist level,” he said, lobbing her a long thin piece of leather to use as binding. “And you better make it tight,” he warned. “Because if he breaks free, I’ll put a bullet in his head. And this time you really
will
be responsible for killing him.”

Motioning a consenting nod, she tied the knot more loosely than tightly anyway, but secure nonetheless.

“Good,” Hines said upon seeing Jewels had finished. “Now with the MTAF prick out of the way, let’s have a little fun. Come over here,” Hines directed, pointing to the side of the bed where he was standing.

Jewels shuffled over.

“Let down your hair.”

Removing the scrunchie holding up her long hair, she tossed her head back and forth for a moment to loosen the curls, before raking her fingers through it to fluff and comb it

“Good. Now take off my jacket and put it on the bed.”

Reluctantly climbing out of it, she folded it neatly. Draped it over the footboard.

“Now take off the dress.”

Stiffening her body, Jewels’ face painted in defiance.

Hines strolled over to Marshall, rapped him upside the head with the muzzle of the MP-5.

Marshall groaned in pain.

“Don’t,” Jewels cried.

“I said take off that fucking dress,” he demanded, drawing a seven-inch SOG knife from the sheath on his hip.

Recoiling in fear at the sight of the blade, “Okay, whatever you say, just please put the knife away,” she begged, rapidly peeling off the gown and allowing it to drop around her ankles.

Grinning, “That’s better.” Toying with the knife, he threateningly waved it in front of Marshall’s face. “Now pick up the gown, lay it on the bed, then take off your slip.”

Swallowing dryly, Jewels took her time picking up the gown, straightening it and draping it across the footboard next to the FBI jacket.