Sweet Reward (35 page)

Mia was the hero. She’d overcome a life-threatening and debilitating injury, and instead of allowing that to scar her emotionally, she lived every day as if it were a gift. The woman had guts and then some.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what was going to happen once this case was over. He was determined that they would survive … there was no other option. But now, with nothing but silence and Mia’s even breaths as she slept, he couldn’t help but wonder if she might want to continue seeing him. Yeah, she lived in Chicago and he lived here, but there were plenty of opportunities for LCR ops in the States. Would she be interested in seeing him every few months?

Stupid to be thinking in those terms. After his marriage had ended, he’d sworn that he would never consider anything remotely close to a relationship. And maybe, to some people, seeing someone every few months might not seem like one. To Jared, who’d rarely had relationships that lasted more than a few weeks, it was a damn big deal.

Jared closed his eyes against the sting of sweat that rolled from his forehead. Probably well over ninety in here now. By the time Ricard returned, they’d be dehydrated and weak. Mia was a strong fighter and very talented, but would she be able to hold up against what the bastard had planned?

Whatever happened tomorrow, he had to make sure Ricard focused solely on him. If he had one fear, it was that Ricard would learn that Jared did have one major weakness. And he had to fight for all he was worth so that
the man never discovered what it was. Of all the things he had been through in his life and all that he could endure, there was one specific thing he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle. No way in hell could he withstand watching Mia being tortured. No way in hell.

Philippe opened the door to the toolshed and gasped as an immense wave of heat slammed into him. Were they already dead? As much as he needed to get information from them, he almost wished they were, so he wouldn’t have to face the next few hours. He hadn’t slept well, dreading what must be done. Contrary to what Mia’s friend thought, he really wasn’t a bad person. Just because he took extraordinary steps to help others didn’t mean he was evil.

While his men switched off the space heaters, Philippe stayed outside, allowing cool air to infiltrate the building. If they weren’t dead, the cool air would wake them.

He heard a low, feminine moan and sighed his disappointment. This would not be an easy day for anyone.

Plastering on a smile, Philippe entered, scrunching up his nose at the scent of unwashed, sweaty bodies. Perhaps the water he had planned for them would be a blessing to him, as well.

Both Mia and her friend looked the worse for wear. Mia’s hair was soaked with sweat and fell limply around her face. Moisture was beaded all over her skin, which, unfortunately, looked quite red, almost burned. Was she already close to death?

“Mia?”

She raised her head and regarded him. Her mouth was cracked and swollen, and despite his need to stay strong,
tears pricked at his eyes. If only she had minded her own business.

He could almost forgive her for not loving him … could even overlook her lies and deceit. But she had tried to destroy him, too. Even if he didn’t need to get information from her, she deserved punishment for the blow she had dealt him. The next few hours would be the most difficult of his life … he needed to remember what she had tried to do. That knowledge would go a long way in easing his conscience.

Philippe turned to see if perhaps her friend had died. That was one death he couldn’t say he would feel bad about.

The man was staring at him, that implacable, murderous expression still on his face. Though his skin, too, was red and sweat rolled down his body, he still looked healthy and decidedly lethal. A chill swept through Philippe.

“We have the water hose ready, sir.”

He gave a nod to Garwood Kinsey. The man hadn’t wanted to be involved; Philippe had insisted. They were all in this together. Monsieur Kinsey’s well-being was directly tied to Philippe’s learning what Mia and her friend knew and who they had told. Survival was such an important motivation. He was confident that the man would do an excellent job.

“I’m sure you’re quite dry from last night’s overheating, so I brought you some refreshment.”

Stepping back outside to avoid the spray, Philippe nodded at Kinsey, who held the hose. Water gurgled and then blasted forth, drenching Mia. The loud yelp she gave was gratifying to hear. He watched her squirm against the post as she tried to avoid the pounding water. Finally, he yelled, “Stop!”

The flow instantly stopped, and then Kinsey turned. The water burst forth again, dousing Mia’s friend.

The man never moved … never uttered a word or made a sound. His eyes, an eerie silver, stayed focused on Philippe, their deadly stare clear. Did he ever blink?

Philippe shook his head. No, he would not be intimidated. The man was tied up and would be dead in a few hours. The shiver running up his spine was from the cool air, not because of this Goliath and his unblinking stare. Still, it was frustrating. It was time to talk turkey, as his American acquaintances might say. He waited several moments, allowing the man to become completely drenched. Then, once more, he yelled, “Stop!”

Kinsey dragged the hose from the building, and Philippe entered the room again. Mia was now shuddering with cold, and the glitter in her eyes was even more malevolent than before. He almost smiled that such a feminine, lovely woman could have such a mean expression.

He turned to her friend and was once again dumbfounded and frustrated. As if he were made of granite, the man’s expression hadn’t altered. He didn’t act as if anything had fazed him. Nor was he shivering. That would soon change.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed your company, I’m afraid this day must be a short one for you. I have several businesses to run. And I guess it won’t hurt to tell you that another couple is about to become the proud parents of a baby girl.”

The man shocked him by saying, almost conversationally, “How do you make sure the people don’t double-cross you? Seems like it would be easy to take the child and then stop payment on the check.”

Delighted laughter flowed through Philippe. No wonder this giant wasn’t bothered by his circumstances—he was a simpleton. What was the saying? All brawn and no brain. He took care to speak slowly and use easy words so the idiot could fully comprehend his explanation: “It’s all very
simple. I only take cash in nonsequential bills and they have to sign a small form.”

“A form?” Mia snorted. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no way you could have a binding contract on an illegal adoption.”

“Of course it’s not legal. It’s just my little insurance policy. I keep the papers in my safe at my house. If I were to be arrested, I would make sure the papers were discovered. More than a dozen families would be implicated.”

Mia’s and the man’s eyes met, and they said together, “A dozen?”

He couldn’t help but feel smug at the expression of astonishment on Mia’s face. “Apparently, you were under the impression that it was just a couple of children, which shows me how very little you know. However, it is enough to cause me great difficulty if the authorities ever found out. So would you please be so kind as to tell me who else knows about my little side business?”

“Every fucking person in the universe,” the big man said.

Sighing, Philippe turned. “Would it be too much trouble to tell me your name? I hate to keep thinking of you as Goliath or ‘gorilla man.’ ”

“Feel free to refer to me as the man who’s going to nail your ass to the wall.”

“I do like a man with confidence, but I’m afraid yours is quite misplaced.”

“Why don’t you untie me and let’s see who’s got the bigger balls?”

A blush ran up Philippe’s face at the crude talk. It was apparent that this man was no gentleman. Perhaps “gorilla” was the appropriate word for him after all.

“Since it doesn’t appear you’re going to be immediately cooperative, I’ve invited one of my men to convince you otherwise. Remember, all you have to do is tell me who
else is involved or knows about me and I’ll let you die a peaceful, painless death.”

The man sneered. “Bring it, asshole.”

Before going out the door, Philippe turned to Mia. “I apologize for what you’re about to witness. The moment you or your friend change your mind, please let Salvatore know. He’ll stop immediately. I promise.”

“Go to hell, Philippe,” Mia snapped.

Disappointed but not surprised, Philippe walked out the door. Seconds later, he heard the slamming of fists against flesh. He shook his head and headed back to the house for breakfast. Hopefully, by the time he finished his meal, Salvatore would have knocked some intelligence into Mia’s friend or she would be so overcome with grief at witnessing such brutality, she would give up the information.

If not, then, sadly, Mia would be next.

   Mia clenched her mouth tight to keep from crying out in pain. The tattooed bastard pounding into Jared’s flesh wasn’t tall, but he was massively built. Every exposed body part was an ink-covered muscle. Massive fists that looked to be the size of catcher’s mitts delivered blow after stinging blow. She caught a glimpse of the monster’s face and his fixed, evil smile. He was enjoying himself.

And Jared took all of it with only the occasional grunt. He had warned her that this would happen. Philippe either expected Jared to give up or Mia to stop the abuse and give him what he wanted to know. No matter whether she told him the truth or lies, he intended to kill them both. All they could do was hold on until they were able to escape or help arrived. Pulling in a sobbing, gasping breath, she did the hardest thing of all and kept her silence. Her eyes searched, then locked with Jared’s. If she could infuse
him with strength and endurance through visual support, then she would never stop looking at him.

As he watched her, his face as expressionless as usual, something flickered in his eyes, communicating to her. Mia didn’t know if it was otherworldly, psychic, or just her own wishful thinking, but those beautiful silver eyes spoke silently of caring, emotion … love. A connection she’d never had with another human being was formed. And in that moment, of all the times to discover the truth, she knew she loved him.

How had she missed it? How had she not realized that this brave, beautiful, wonderful man was the love of her life? With that knowledge, a peace came over her. And Mia did her best to communicate her feelings to Jared. She wanted him to know he wasn’t alone, that she was right there with him, feeling the pain, if not physically, then emotionally. She was there for him … would always be there for him.

Minutes or hours later—Mia had no concept of time anymore—the brutality stopped. Jared’s head dropped low for a moment, and Mia feared the worst. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth; bruises were already forming on his rib cage, stomach, and shoulders. Did he have internal bleeding? Dear God, was he dead?

The tattooed man clomped out the door, and Jared raised his head. One eye was already swelling closed. Tears pooled in Mia’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. If he could withstand that kind of beating, then she could damn well hold in her tears.

“Think he got bored?” Jared asked.

Swallowing a relieved sob, Mia said, “It seems so stupid to ask you how you feel … but I need to know.”

He spat blood onto the floor and said, “I’ve had worse. No internal injuries. Maybe a bruised rib or two, a sore
nose, and a busted lip. He held back on his punches. The guy wasn’t trying to kill me … at least not yet.”

“What do you think is going to happen now?”

He didn’t want to answer that question, because for the first time since his childhood, he was afraid. If the asshole who’d just beaten him turned his fists to Mia, he literally didn’t know if he could handle it.

Before he could speak, Mia said quietly, “I can handle it, Jared. I promise.”

He swallowed hard, tasting blood and fear. “We’ll tell him something to let you go. I’ll make a bargain with him.”

“No, the instant you tell him anything, no matter what you tell him, he’ll kill us both. My hands are—”

A loud sigh at the door told them they were no longer alone. Jared turned his eyes to the entrance. Philippe had changed into an elegant pair of pants and a cashmere sweater. Hell, the man did like his clothes, didn’t he?

“Salvatore tells me you refused to talk.”

“Didn’t have anything to say.”

“This is not my choice, you understand. I am not a violent man.”

“No, just a human trafficker and murderer,” Mia snarled.

“Insulting me will get you nowhere.” He turned to someone behind him. “Try not to be too brutal.”

Another man entered. In his hand was a long, thick belt; Jared knew exactly what was going to happen.

He clenched his jaw and, as Mia had done, locked his eyes with hers. If there was any way to impart thoughts and emotions through eye contact, then he would do it. He would give her a lifeline to hold on to.

The first whop of the belt hit her leg. She gasped but didn’t cry out. Her eyes clung stubbornly to Jared’s as the belt came down again and then again. Jared’s chest
felt as if it would explode. Mia’s image blurred as tears flooded his eyes. Damn, damn, damn. He couldn’t handle this.

She closed her eyes, and silent tears fell down her face.

“Mia, dammit, look at me. Fight, sweetheart, fight. These bastards will not win. Do you hear me? Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes.” He bellowed louder: “Now, dammit! Now!”

Her eyes blinked open, and in the depths of her pain, Jared saw a new determination enter them. Welts were already on her legs, thighs, and stomach. When the bastard raised the belt to aim at her face, Philippe shouted, “Stop!”

“You fucking sadist!” Jared shouted. “You’re not a man.”

Even Philippe looked shaken as he gazed at Mia’s welt-covered body. “I never wanted this to happen.” He turned to Jared. “Tell me, and I’ll make it painless for both of you. I promise.”

Without raising her head, Mia whispered, “Go to hell, Philippe.”