The Mogul (Necessary Lies Book 2) (8 page)

H
ours later
, I woke up dying of thirst. Notices were posted all around the lagoon advising bathers to rehydrate frequently, warnings we’d foolishly ignored in our haste to get back to the suite and get out of our clothes.

I went to the minibar and downed a cold bottle of water, watching Nolan’s chest rise and fall in a sliver of moonlight that fortuitously found a gap in our curtains. I pulled out a second bottle and sat in a chair near the bed, feet curled up beneath me, just enjoying the moment. Despite the vigor of our lovemaking, the effect of the healing waters in the pool remained and had me feeling refreshed and alive. Aside from a dull ache deep within, in a place only Nolan could reach, I felt fantastic. And even that ache wasn’t something I minded terribly much. It was a constant reminder of the man who’d claimed me as his.

I rose and went into the bathroom, the mirror revealing how much the minerals in the lagoon had done to wreck my hair. I decided the only remedy was to keep conditioning, so I started a shower, hopeful that I wouldn’t wake Nolan. I wanted him exactly where he was when I slid back into bed.

The shower was glorious, and after conditioning and rinsing twice, I was ready to return to my dreams while I wrapped my naked body around the man even my wildest fantasies could never have imagined.

With a my hair up inside a towel, I slipped quietly from the bathroom back into the bedroom.

And into my worst nightmare.

Nolan sat in the same chair where I’d been sitting, his hands behind the back of the chair. From the uncomfortable-looking position he was in, I surmised that he must be in some sort of restraints.

Sitting on the sofa adjacent to the chair, just past the bed, with a gun in his hand pointed directly at Nolan, was the man in the suit, the security guard sent by Emerson Titan to watch over me. I shrieked and attempted to cover my nakedness, but the man with the gun corrected me.

“Ah, ah, no sense in having modesty now. The whole hotel heard you two fucking earlier anyway. Come over here and turn on a light so I can take a good, long look at you.”

I’d heard him mutter a grand total of about four words the entire time I’d been in his presence, so his relative dissertation startled me almost as much as the content of his statement. I made no effort to uncover myself, nor to turn on a light, but instead looked to Nolan for reassurance. For help. For something. Anything.

Nolan was stone-faced. He gave me the slightest of nods, but said nothing.

“What is this? What’s going on?” I dug a thumbnail into my left palm to wake myself and make the entire horrible scenario disappear. It didn’t work.

“What this
is, is a job, Miss Hunt. But since Nolan Weston is involved, for me it’s also a bit personal. At least one of you knows where your father is hiding. Maybe both of you do. My job is to get that answer. Period. It doesn’t matter to me, or my employer, what I have to do to get the answer. Normally, I’d follow certain protocols. None of that Geneva Convention shit, but what I’d call ‘professional courtesy’. But when it comes to hurting Nolan, I don’t mind abandoning my principles. Now do as I say and walk over here and turn on a light so I can get a good look at you.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I could see fury smoldering in Nolan’s eyes.

“He has the upper hand at the moment, Camilla. I’m sorry. I’m so sor- “

Nolan’s second “sorry” was cut short by the man in the suit backhanding him hard across the face. It startled me how quickly a man his size closed the distance to within striking range of Nolan.

Nolan spit blood and took a deep breath, staring daggers through his assailant.

Trembling, I lowered my hands and walked over to the wall and turned on the light. Only then did I notice that Nolan had a swollen lump beneath the eye on the other side of his face from where he’d just been hit. Despite the blood and bruises, there was still something dignified about him. I could see that he’d put on his underwear sometime during my shower or before, and that his hands were, indeed, bound behind the chair and to the chair. He must have been caught by surprise. He was completely immobilized.

The large man in the suit walked over to where I stood and circled me slowly, a predator with cornered prey, unhurried.

“Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Nolan hissed. “Painfully. You’re going to die anyway, but if you touch her, I’ll make it slow and excruciating.”

The man chuckled and turned to Nolan. He put his gun into a holster inside his jacket, spreading his arms wide. “Go ahead and take your best shot, Weston.” He laughed again and turned back to me. “I’ll say this much for Nolan. He does have good taste in women. I think I might enjoy this more than I did Adrianna.”

My eyes widened in horror. I looked to Nolan, who looked like a deflated balloon. He slumped in his chair, staring at something no one else could see.

The man in the suit glanced at me, then at Nolan.

“Oh, didn’t you get a coroner’s report on Adrianna? My DNA isn’t in any databases anyway.” He turned his attention back to me, looking down into my eyes. “Here’s how this is going to work. Nolan’s going to watch me have fun with you. Then he’s going to tell me where your father is. If he doesn’t, I’ll start removing body parts, one from you, then one from him, until one of you decides to smarten up. All of this can be as painful as the two of you want it to be, but I promise that when I walk out of this room, I’ll have what I need. Now, Camilla, you climb up on the bed. Get on all fours. Nolan, pay attention. This is how a real man does it.”

I felt bile rise in my throat. A panic attack was clawing at the edges of my psyche. This couldn’t be happening. None of it could be real. It was all too awful to contemplate. He tossed his sport coat onto the corner of the bed and loosened his tie.

“My father is dead! I saw his body! He’s dead. You aren’t going to accomplish anything with this, you sadistic bastard!” The words tripped over each other as they spilled out of my mouth. I’d have said anything to save Nolan. To save myself.

“Come on, Camilla, you’re smarter than that. It’s over. Unless you’ll enjoy it more if I have to force you, get up on the bed now.”

“You have family somewhere. Someone you care about. Even monsters do. I’ll find them. I’ll find all of them. And you’ll watch as they suffer. One by one. I’ll save you for last.” It was Nolan’s voice, barely recognizable through his rage.

The large man rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “You know what? After I get done with her, and you tell me what I need to know, I’m going to cut you loose and give you a chance. Killing you while you’re helpless won’t be nearly as satisfying as ending you with my bare hands while you try to stop me. While Camilla watches.”

“Do it now, tough guy. Come on. You’re what, a decade younger than I am? At least fifty pounds heavier? And you couldn’t take me without sneaking in while I slept? You’re pathetic.”

Nolan’s verbal jabs actually seemed to bother him. Nolan had him on the ropes and he knew it.

“Are you impotent? Is that what makes you rape? Or did all the steroids make everything shrivel up so that you could never satisfy a woman? Did mommy not pay enough attention to you? Thumb sucker? Bed-wetter? What was it, you cretin? Did an uncle or older brother…” Another hard backhand interrupted Nolan, followed by a series of punches to his exposed midsection.

“How many ribs do you think I just broke, Weston? Three, four?”

Nolan took a series of deep breaths, clearly in distress. “Jo’burg. South Africa. That’s where Richard Hunt is. Turn me loose and I’ll give you the address of his safe house. And then face me man to man. You fucking coward.”

The man narrowed his gaze, staring hard at Nolan for any sign of deception. He produced a phone and made a call.

“Ladson. This is Nicholas. Richard Hunt is in Johannesburg. I’ll have details soon.”

Ladson. Jessa Ladson.

I’d had enough.

He glanced at me, appraising me like livestock, then turned his attention back to Nolan. I grabbed the lamp off a side table behind me and swung it as hard as I could.

The lamp, a slender, green metallic piece, connected solidly with the back of his skull. He pitched forward, rolling over and winding up near Nolan’s feet.

“Camilla! His pants pocket! The keys!” Nolan implored me to hurry. The giant wouldn’t stay stunned for long. My mind screamed at me to run, to get help, but Nolan’s voice won out. Forsaking my fear, I knelt and dug into the fallen man’s pockets as he started to sit up, holding the back of his head.

“You little bitch.” He muttered to himself, looking at his hand, streaked with blood.

My fumbling fingers hit metal in his pocket and yanked, hard. A small keyring popped out, and I bounced to my feet. Until an enormous hand captured my ankle and brought me crashing back down.

“Not so fast,” he said, pulling me back into his clutches.

I heard a sickening “thwack!” and the grip loosened. Nolan’s arms were bound, but his legs were not. He’d kicked the larger man viciously across the side of the head, and I was free once more.

I scrambled behind Nolan, searching the ring for the proper key. A jagged little number fit the cuffs, and Nolan leapt from the chair just as the large man rose to his feet.

Nolan’s hands found the man’s chest and he sprang into the air, a whirlwind motion that ended with his legs around the men’s neck, his momentum yanking them both backwards, crashing to the floor near the sofa. Nolan chopped at the bridge of Nicholas’s nose with the side of his hand, sending a spray of blood into the air. His legs remained tight around the giant’s neck, and holding him thus, he reached down and yanked the gun from his holster and slid it across the floor toward me.

“Take the safety off. It’s the button on the side. If this goes badly, point and shoot.”

I bent and picked the weapon up, reaching to the bed for a sheet with which to cover my nudity.

Nolan retained his immobilizing hold on the man’s neck, fending off both his hands as Nicholas attempted to extricate himself.

As his face turned deeper shades of red, Nicholas’s left arm wound up in Nolan’s clutches. He took hold of the wrist, slipped an arm beneath it at the elbow, and the result was quick and sure.
Crack
.

“I can go on breaking things, Nicholas. I can squeeze with my legs and you’ll pass out. Then I can take you apart. Is that what you want?”

The man shook his head, best he was able.

“Who’s giving the orders? It’s not Jessa fucking Ladson. It’s coming from above her. Who is it?”

Nolan took hold of the broken arm and twisted it, eliciting an agonized howl.

“Turn on the television. And turn it up,” Nolan commanded. I did as I was told.

“Give me a name, Nicholas.” Nolan’s thumb dug into a spot on Nicholas’s shoulder, and the large man thrashed, but stopped protesting when Nolan adjusted and began to put more pressure on his neck with his leg lock.

“QB, Weston. What the fuck are you going to do now?”

Nolan looked ashen.

“And Adrianna? Was that QB, too?” Nolan asked.

“Fuck no, she was too small time to even be on his radar. Nice piece of ass, though.”

Nolan raised a hand to strike when Nicholas summoned his last reserve of energy and somehow flipped over, dislodging Nolan from his neck. With what seemed like superhuman strength in his one good arm, he lifted and threw Nolan into the nearest wall.

“Skirts will ruin us all. You fucked up because of Hunt’s daughter and I took this job to get into Jessa’s pants. You’d think we’d learn. Fuck it. You’re dead. I’ll get what else I need from Camilla. She doesn’t have the balls to shoot anybody.”

Nicholas charged Nolan, his bulk crushing him up against the wall and pinning him there as he threw wild punches with his good arm and head-butted him over his left eye.

I wanted to shoot, to end the nightmare, but Nolan was too close. I couldn’t risk it. I backed up against the wall and into… someone. I spun with the gun in my hand, only to have my arm intercepted and lifted out of the way by the woman I knew only as Krav Maga, my other security escort. She dispossessed me of the weapon, and I knew then that we were surely doomed.

As Nicholas and Nolan exchanged blows, Krav Maga gave me a… smile?

She flew across the room, landing a devastating series of strikes to the small of Nicholas’s back. The large man froze and staggered back, and Nolan delivered the deathblow directly to his throat.

When it connected, the man collapsed straight down like I’d seen hotel towers fall in on themselves when imploded in Las Vegas. He crumpled, motionless and soundless.

The room looked like a tornado had blown through it. Nolan’s face was puffy and battered, and he held his side as he limped toward me. We embraced, as I openly wept.

I was vaguely aware that Krav Maga was on her phone.

“Richard, there’s been a problem,” she said.

Richard
? How did she…

I pulled back from Nolan, puzzled. He wiped blood from a gash on his eyebrow, glanced at Krav Maga and back to me, and nodded his head.

“
H
e called Jessa Ladson
. She’ll have dispatched a team to Jo’burg by now. Set up a welcoming committee.”

Nolan was filling in Krav Maga on the events of the evening.

“South Africa? Leonard and his team were in Pretoria last week. Hopefully they’re still nearby. I’ll arrange it. Are the two of you well enough to travel?” Krav Maga looked us up and down.

“I just need to get cleaned up. I’ve got broken ribs. At least two. Everything else is superficial. Camilla?” Nolan looked over at me.

I was completely shell-shocked, but physically unharmed. I managed a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Krav Maga stepped out and returned moments later with a small bag. “Use the stuff in here. Be downstairs in thirty minutes. A car will be outside.” She took a long look around the room. “Nolan, don’t forget to leave a tip for the maids. You’ve trashed this place.”

With that, she was gone.

Nolan rose with a wheeze, and I helped him into the bathroom. I dabbed a wet washcloth to the injuries on his face, trying to make him presentable.

“Get the bag, Camilla. Hurry.”

I returned to the bathroom and gave him the duffel, which he unzipped, revealing changes of clothes for both of us, a wig for me, and a hat for him. A wallet and pocketbook were also inside, with Canadian identification and passports for both of us with new names. As we changed, I questioned Nolan about our benefactor.

“Nolan, how did you do all that? Was that Krav Maga, too?”

“No, aikido, mostly. I picked up some silat in Indonesia. I’ve trained all over the world.”

“And who, or what, is ‘QB’?” My mind was flooded with questions.

“Too much to get into right now. He’s a bad, bad guy. Well, not necessarily bad, but he has no scruples, no conscience. His moral compass points in only one direction; towards money. He’s at the top of the food chain. We need friends. Quickly.”

“So, we can trust her? The Krav Maga girl?””

“Emma? Absolutely,” Nolan reassured me.

“I didn’t know her name, she wouldn’t tell me.”

“Emma Sahar. She’s American-Israeli. She’s one of your father’s most trusted… employees.”

“I thought she worked for Emerson Titan?” I asked, adjusting my blonde wig.

“She does. Or she did. She’s with the firm now. Or what’s left of the firm that hasn’t been corrupted. I trust her with my life. And yours.”

“She made a phone call earlier. I heard her say my father’s name. Was that him on the phone?”

“Richard isn’t an uncommon name, Camilla.”

I frowned, tired of the endless doublespeak and half-truths. Nolan relented.

“Yes. She was speaking to your father. She’s part of the inner circle.”

I tried to put together all the pieces of the puzzle that the past week had made of my life, but nothing fit.

“The next plane you board will be met by him when it lands,” Nolan stated, gritting his teeth as he pulled on a shirt over his damaged torso.

“In Johannesburg?”

“Not exactly.”

With that, Nolan and I (otherwise now known as Mr. and Mrs. Andre and Daphne Manley of Ottawa) proceeded down to the lobby to catch a ride to the airport.