The Lost Tycoon (17 page)

Stepping up to her door, she unlocked it and carried her bag in. “Nap time!” she said to the dark entryway as she dropped her bag and dragged herself down the hallway.

When she stumbled over something, it took her a moment to realize it was a body.
What? Who?

It was too late by the time she knew she wasn’t alone, realized her skin was crawling, her heart was shouting to her to run. It was too late, because a hand holding a cloth came up and covered her mouth and nose, and then all she saw were dots before she lost consciousness.

Bryson was drained and ready to drop. Finding Ricky had been a lot more difficult than he’d thought, and the kid had been about to make a huge mistake with the lighter and the torch that he had on him. Yes, the kid wanted to get the gang who’d killed his mother, but he was only going to end up joining her in the ground if he didn’t let the law handle it instead of waging a futile vendetta of his own.

She wouldn’t have wanted that for him. She’d loved her son and had taken him out of the embattled neighborhood they’d been living in so he wouldn’t grow up to be in a gang or to deal drugs. The people she’d left behind hadn’t been happy about her escape, and they’d found her. It was just one more nail in that gang’s coffin, since they were under surveillance for narcotics, murder, and various other major crimes.

They would pay — Ricky just had to give the lawyers and Bryson time to do things the right way. After a lot of talking, Ricky had backed down and was now securely back at the safe house, where those worthless bastards couldn’t touch him.

Bryson stopped at a gas station and stuck the nozzle into his tank, then went inside for coffee. After paying for his drink, he walked back outside and checked his messages. He was concerned to note several missed calls from Axel. He hadn’t heard the phone ring. Maybe he’d been too focused on Ricky.

He quickly dialed Axel’s number.

“Winchester, where in the hell have you been?” Axel yelled from the other end of the line.

“I’ve been with Ricky. I’m tired, cranky and in need of a whole lot of sleep. Quit the yelling,” Bryson said as he took the nozzle from the tank and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“He got away from surveillance!” Axel shouted, his voice higher than normal.

Bryson’s muscles locked together and a cold sweat popped out on his brow. He didn’t want to ask the next question.

“Who?”

His voice was so quiet, he wasn’t sure whether Axel had heard him. After starting his motor, he had to sit there for a moment and wipe his palms on his trousers.

“Jesse Marcus.”

Bryson couldn’t get sound through his throat, couldn’t focus. He sat there for a moment, took a deep breath and tried to be rational. Jesse was in Montana — Misty in California. Even if the asshole had gotten away, he couldn’t reach Misty. Jesse could have no idea where she was.

“She’s safe. Her house was checked before she went home tonight,” he said, trying not to panic. He was at least an hour from her place.

“She’s not home, Bryson. The marshals have been by her place. There’s no sign of her, nothing. And no one has seen Jesse since yesterday. He’s had plenty of time to make it down there.”

“But the house was checked,” Bryson repeated. He’d made sure.

“They found the agent…dead,” Axel said.

The breath rushed from Bryson’s lungs. Jesse might have her — he might have taken her anywhere. But how could he have found her? The records of her location were sealed.

“He can’t know where she is!” Bryson shouted, more scared than he thought he could ever possibly be.

“It doesn’t look good,” Axel told him. “This guy…he has connections, Bryson. I don’t know how or who, but I do know he gets his hands on information he has no business knowing. He gets away with stuff he never should have been able to get away with. As you well know, even this trial has had problems since the start, with evidence turning up missing, witnesses that should be protected ending up dead. I don’t know who’s helping him, but someone is, someone with a lot of power.”

Yes, Bryson knew this — knew all of this, yet he’d still allowed her to go home alone. He’d been confident in the fact that Jesse was being watched, that they’d be warned if the man appeared to be getting even an inkling of where she was. He’d promised to protect her, sworn she wouldn’t get hurt.

What if leaving her at the airport cost him Misty forever? What if she thought he didn’t care?

“Do we have any clues on where he could be?” Bryson asked as he threw his SUV into drive and peeled out of the gas station, hitting the freeway and flooring the gas pedal.

“I’m working on it, Bryson,” Axel said, but he didn’t sound confident.

“I don’t care what you have to do, but get me something,” Bryson shouted into the phone. Maybe they’d missed a clue at her house, something to tell him where Misty could be. He had to find her — had to save her, because he knew beyond a doubt that Jesse had her.

Bryson’s world had been too perfect for it to continue without a glitch. Misty might never trust him ever again if Jesse hurt her. He’d broken his promise that he wouldn’t let Jesse near her.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Axel said.

Bryson wanted to slam his phone through the windshield. “That’s not good enough, Axel. I don’t want you sitting on your ass thinking up ideas. I want you to find her!”

“I know you’re scared, Bryson, and I know I’m the one delivering the news, but don’t talk to me that way. We’re going to get her back.” Confidence and steel now ran through Axel’s voice.

They were both pissed — for their own reasons. Bryson tried to calm down, but he couldn’t. There was too much left up in the air. He felt vulnerable, helpless.

He slammed the phone down on his seat, nearly smashing it. Not wise. If she could call him, he needed to be available. He only hoped he wasn’t speeding away from her as he rushed toward her house.

No matter where he had to go, or what he had to do, he
would
find her before this night was over, he vowed as he raced down the freeway. One way or another, she was coming home — even if Jesse ended up in a body bag. To think she could be in one too wasn’t acceptable, and he thrust that grim thought from his mind.

Turning his emotions off, he prepared to do whatever it took to find Misty. Because he would die before letting her go.

Some guy with a jackhammer was hard at work inside Misty’s head.
What the heck?
It took her several moments to orient herself and to remember.

She’d paid the cab driver, walked into her house…

Panic set in when she recalled the body on the floor. And then someone had grabbed her, drugged her. Where was she now? The room was dark, with only minimal light sneaking in beneath the door. Was she alone?

As she sat up slowly on the putrid-smelling bed, her hand landed in something sticky and wet. She shook as she yanked the hand away and wiped whatever it was off onto another section of the uncovered mattress. Her stomach heaved and she tried to plug her nose. Hearing a scratching in the wall, she felt herself freeze.

Was that rats or mice? Fear was threatening to consume her, especially since the lighting was so poor. Where was she? It seemed to be an abandoned building of some sort, somewhere now inhabited by rodents and bugs. As if her situation weren’t bad enough, she had to fight vermin, too. Not that she wasn’t dealing with a human form of vermin…

Forcing herself not to succumb to panic, and not to shed futile tears, she attempted to look around, and to make her breathing calm down. Creeping quietly over to the window, she looked out, but she couldn’t see anything through the dirt-encrusted panes.

Don’t freak out
, she reminded herself. Easier said than done. She had no idea where she was — but she had a pretty good idea of who’d brought her there.

Her fears had come to life, just when she’d started to feel more secure. She’d been so afraid that exactly this might happen, and now it was real, now she had to fight to survive. And she had to do it alone.

Did Bryson even know? Or, more like it, would he care? After their stupid, petty fight, maybe he wouldn’t bother to check on her. Okay, she knew he was a professional, and he wouldn’t let his probable disgust with her petulance stop him from attempting a rescue, but how would he even know where to look?

When would he check on her again to even learn she was missing? It might take several days before he tried to find her. Why had she had to get so upset with him? Yes, he’d been wrong in surreptitiously having her DNA tested, but it wasn’t worth this. It wasn’t worth her now being all alone with Jesse in what had to be the middle of nowhere.

It seemed hopeless. So freaking hopeless. But
NO
. She
would not
cave in to her fears. She couldn’t!

What she needed to focus on was escape. She attempted to open the window, but to no avail. It was nailed shut, or glued shut, or it just hadn’t been used in so long that it was never going to open again without a crowbar.

Taking a deep breath, she thought about her options. She refused to just roll over. She’d never, ever been a quitter. She’d grown up in the most awful of circumstances, and she’d managed to survive this long on her own. She would continue relying on herself — the one person who hadn’t failed her.

Her phone!

Please be there
, she screamed in her still-pounding head, and she reached inside her bra and found the small device. Her years on the street had taught her lessons that she still carried with her now, and one of those lessons was not to leave something you didn’t want to lose in obvious places.

Holding her breath now as she stared at the door, she pulled out her phone and flipped it open. One bar of reception, and only a single bar of battery life. It was enough…she hoped.

She didn’t even think about calling 911. Instead, she dialed the one person she truly did trust, no matter what had been said — Bryson. When the phone began ringing, she heard the doorknob rattle on her room, and she fought down the stomach-roiling nausea. Now was not the time to vomit.

Quickly turning the incoming voice volume of the phone way down, she hid the device inside a hole she’d found in the pillow on the small cot, she prayed it wouldn’t disconnect, prayed Jesse wouldn’t hear it, and prayed even harder that Bryson would be able to trace the call. Then she moved to the other side of the door and waited for it to creak open.

If she could get the jump on him, she would have half a chance.

There was no other plan than that. She knew she wasn’t going to just lie on the bed and wait for him to rape her…and then take her life when he was done playing.

“Miiissstttyyy,” Jesse called in a singsong voice as the door opened fully and light spilled into the room. It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust to the new brightness. “What the hell?” he snarled as he stepped inside, moving toward the bed.

It was now or never.

Moving with a speed born of desperation, Misty slid out the door and ran for her life.

“Get back here,” he bellowed, whirling around and following her in close pursuit.

She made it to the living room. Yes, they were in a house, one that looked as if it was either condemned or needed to be. Grime covered every surface and the furnishings were sparse. From there she dashed to the kitchen, where she turned in a circle so she could try to get her bearings, and found herself looking into the cold, calculating eyes of her former abuser.

There was no door in this room. She’d made a wrong turn.
Don’t panic. There has to be a door. You just didn’t see it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. I thought about climbing on and taking a ride with you knocked out, but that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? I want to hear you scream. You know how it turns me on.” Jesse spat on the floor as he sauntered into the room, looking as if he had all the time in the world for his little cat-and-mouse game.

Though her heart was nearly exploding inside her chest, and the blood felt frozen in her veins, she tried to hold it together. She absolutely could not show weakness or it would cost her something more important than just her life — it would cost everything she’d worked so hard to build since she’d escaped him.

Looking over this Goliath as he took another step closer, she saw a chink in his armor. The last year-plus hadn’t been good to him. He was about twenty pounds heavier, the weight all in his stomach, sweat was rolling down his brow, and he was breathing heavily.

“It looks like you’ve been partaking in a few too many of the free doughnuts at your weekly cop meetings, Jesse.” She was proud that her voice came out confident, snide and demeaning.

His eyes widened before they narrowed.

“And it seems you’ve grown some false security in your time away from me, little girl. Don’t forget that I managed to get the jump on you once tonight. I will have you screaming beneath me in just a few minutes.” His face lit up at the prospect.

“Yeah, you’re a real big man, aren’t you? You managed to sneak up behind me and use chloroform. I see you were too chicken to just face me.” She wanted to look for an escape route but was too fearful of taking her eyes off the despicable SOB.

He was still huge, especially with the added weight, but he didn’t look as intimidating as she remembered him. At least he wasn’t in his cop uniform, so there wasn’t a gun sitting on his hip. It would almost be better to have him just shoot her, though. She’d much rather have that happen than feel his sweating body thrash on top of her.

Never. She’d never allow this man inside her again. He wouldn’t touch her — she’d kill him first.

“Oh, I’m a big man, all right, Misty. I’m the man who will teach you some respect,” he said, the sweat now pouring out in his anger.

Maybe it wasn’t the wisest move to piss him off, Misty realized, but if he was talking, then he wasn’t formulating a plan on how to get her.

“Yeah, a real man who can only go after women.” Damn. Her fear came through in her voice that time.

“I should have tied you down. I thought it would be more fun to do it when you were awake…while you were struggling. That’s always turned me on, sweet little Misty.”

His gloating made her stomach heave. How had she managed to put up with his abuse for so long? It would have been better to be one of his murder victims. At least then she wouldn’t have to deal with his stench.

As they faced off, he moved forward again, his intent clear — to box her in. She edged away successfully. If she could figure out how to get out of this house, she knew she’d have no trouble outrunning him. She had a reason to live now. Two reasons. A family. And a man she loved. A man she would apologize to profusely if she could just see his face again.

“I’m going to play with you all night. For days, actually, taste your body…over and over again. It’s going to be so good. You won’t be recognizable when I’m done with you, but that won’t matter, because you won’t ever be found. I imagine it will take me a while to grow tired of your sugar, though, honey buns.”

“You won’t touch me again, Jesse. Never again.”

“We both know I will. If you give up this chase, I’ll make the first time a little less painful,” he said, light shooting from his eyes in anticipation.

“If you back off, I won’t kill you,” she replied.

He lunged for her, and she quickly sidestepped him, then rushed to the next room as he went flying to the floor with a scream of rage.
Pissed was good
, she told herself. The more angry he was, the more careless. If she could just tire him out, she could get out of the house.

“You are only making this worse for yourself, Misty. Stop this now, before I really lose my temper.”

Jesse had trapped her in the next room. She’d made another foolish move. There was a door, but it was boarded up, without offering her even a chance of getting out of the house.

She looked around quickly for any sign of a weapon. Nothing that she could spot.

Dammit!

“You won’t touch me, you disgusting maggot,” she growled, and she scooted around the ripped couch.

“Oh, I’ll be touching you all night long,” he replied, his beady eyes glowing with desire as he drew closer.

“I’d rather die, Jesse.”

“Don’t worry, dollface, you will,” he promised. “But not before I get what’s owed to me.”

There! A knife! She spotted it in the corner of the room, on the other side of the couch, beneath what looked like an old television stand, and its blade was at least six inches long. Though it was rusty and old, it could probably do some damage. If she could just get her hands on that, she would thrust first, ask questions later. Though she’d threatened to kill him, she really didn’t want to live with that, with knowing she’d taken another person’s life. But she sure as heck wanted to maim him, to do anything short of killing to stop him.

And if it came down to her or him, well…

When he jumped toward her this time, she was prepared. She leapt over the coffee table and rolled onto the ground, crawling closer to the broken stand. Almost there!

When her fingers were within grasping distance, pain shot through her ankle as he grabbed it and twisted. He had hold of her from beneath the coffee table, his body lying on the ground, a trickle of blood running down his head from some hit he must have taken during their struggles. She only wished she’d seen the impact.

The wound must have been slowing him down, but not enough, and if he applied more pressure, her ankle was going to snap.

“Give it up, bitch!” he thundered as he managed to get his other hand on her leg, and he began pulling her back toward him.

“No!” she screamed, clawing against the floor. When she thought it was hopeless, she managed to grip some of the torn carpet, anchoring herself before she tugged, though she felt as if she were being ripped in two.

“Now you’re mine,” he said, and laughed.

Her heart stalled as her blood turned to ice, but still, she wasn’t giving up. He might outweigh her, he might be stronger, and he might have the upper hand, but she had a reason to live, she reminded herself.

“I love your spirit, Misty. Always have. You fight so much more than any of the others. Even after days of my beating you, you managed to glare, managed to cry out in anger as well as pain. Most of the girls submit far too quickly, take all the fun away. Not you, though. No. You’ve always thought you were tough, and you never did fully submit to me. I like that in a woman — like the spark. It will be a shame to slit your throat. I don’t know if I’ll ever find another one like you. Don’t worry, though, I won’t kill you too fast. I want to enjoy that lush little body for as long as I can.”

He clearly thought he’d already won, and his sadistic arrogance filled her with rage.

“I fought because having your revolting body on top of mine is a fate worse than death,” she spat, tugging as hard as she could on the leg of the TV stand to gain traction, the muscles in her arms screaming, the bone in her ankle screaming, too. It was worth it, however, because she managed to pull herself forward the two inches she needed to reach her goal.

He was so focused on her legs, on trying to pull her back to him as he yanked at her clothing, that he didn’t see her fingers slip around the handle of the knife.

She knew she’d have only one shot at this, only one chance to plunge the blade into his thick flesh. If she messed this up, he would win. And that was something she absolutely couldn’t let happen.

“I don’t give a damn what you feel about me, just as long as you scream when I get my pleasure,” he growled.