‘Damn. We’d have been toast.’ She looked up at him, her expression grim even as her eyes filled with approval. ‘Fast moves, O’Bannion. Army training?’
‘Yeah.’ He knew he should get up, but now that they were safe, his adrenaline had plunged, his muscles turning to jelly. His body sagged against her, his hips settling between her thighs. He braced himself on his forearms and lowered his forehead to hers. ‘Give me a second.’
She brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, a gentle caress. ‘We’re both okay,’ she said softly, making him shudder at the thought of what might have been. ‘You did good, Marcus. We’re alive.’
He nodded, realizing that he was finally holding her the way he’d been longing to for months, her lips only a breath away. Except he hadn’t wanted it like this. Hadn’t wanted her in danger. ‘You could have been killed.’
She pressed her fingertips to his lips. ‘You could have been killed,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘He was aiming high. For you, Marcus.’ Her eyes roved his face in the semi-darkness, her lips bending in a frown as her fingers lifted to his temple. ‘You’re bleeding.’
His gaze dropped to her mouth. He wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off her lips, but knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And he didn’t want to have to stop, but this was utterly the wrong time and place. ‘A chip of concrete, I think. I’m fine.’
‘We need to get you checked out,’ she said stubbornly, but then her lips trembled. ‘I need to get you checked out. Please,’ she added in a whisper.
He wanted to outright refuse, because he hated hospitals, but that slight tremble had gone straight to his gut and the whispered please had stripped his defenses bare. ‘Later, okay?’
Her throat worked as she tried to swallow. ‘Promise me.’
He nodded, not trusting his voice. He no longer trusted his body either, as it had gotten over its scare and was no longer jelly. Far from it. He was growing harder with every second he lay cradled between her thighs. He cleared his throat. ‘I need to get up. See if he’s still there.’
She shook her head. ‘Let me call Deacon first. Get him to check while we both stay clear of the door.’ She looked around her, frowning again. ‘I dropped my phone when we went through the door. Do you see it?’
‘No. Use mine.’ He forced his body to stand, ignoring the stiffness in his knees and back. And in his groin. Because this was neither the time nor the place to make all those fantasies reality. That would have to happen later. But not too much later.
He offered her a hand, gripping hers harder than he needed to as he tugged her to her feet. Releasing her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He gave her his phone. ‘Tell him to check out the unmarked car at the top of the hill. The cop inside was too quiet.’
Understanding filled her eyes. ‘Shit,’ she murmured as she dialed. ‘We’re okay. We’re in the house,’ she said without preamble, then proceeded to tell Deacon what had happened.
Marcus blocked out her conversation with Deacon, instead listening intently for the sound of anyone approaching. The shooter had almost gotten them – three times. The guy wasn’t likely to give up so easily.
His ears pricked at a faint noise. But it hadn’t come from outside. It had come from the basement, to his right. He caught Scarlett’s eye and tilted his head in the direction of the sound.
‘Gotta go,’ she murmured. ‘Hurry, Deacon.’ She handed Marcus his phone and took a small penlight from the pocket of her vest. ‘Where?’ she asked, almost soundlessly.
Marcus activated the flashlight app on his phone and pointed it toward the sound. ‘There.’ He drew the Glock from his pocket holster and crept forward, his head cocked, listening.
There. There it was again. So soft he nearly missed it.
It was a moan. He glanced at Scarlett, saw she’d heard it too.
‘Hello?’ he called softly. ‘We won’t hurt you. Please come out.’
Another moan, even fainter than the last one, seconds before all hell broke loose upstairs.
The front door banged twice before he heard it slam open, followed by the thunder of running feet and shouts of ‘Police! Hands where we can see them!’
Marcus stopped short when his foot landed on something hard. Aiming his light at his feet, he realized he’d stepped on a cell phone. The phone lay on a carpet, about eight inches from the edge of a twin bed, positioned with its headboard up against the wall. He went down on one knee to examine it.
‘Holy shit!’ he yelped when bony fingers came into view, appearing disembodied at first glance. Then he realized the hand was connected to an arm, which was attached to a body lying on the floor under the bed.
‘Oh God,’ he murmured. The phone he’d stepped on was unharmed. But the frail, bony hand that reached for it was not. Bruised, with open wounds, it was covered in dried caked blood.
The hand reached and strained, trying to get the phone. Marcus met Scarlett’s eyes, saw that she was as horrified as he was.
‘Deacon!’ Scarlett shouted into a pocket of quiet. ‘We found someone down here. She’s hurt but still alive.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 1.25 P.M.
Furious, Ken leaned into Stephanie’s face, grabbing the back of her head when she would have pulled away. ‘Who took the goddamn baby?’ he hissed. He didn’t give a damn about the baby, but by God, she’d tell him who else had been there when his men had arrived. He left no witnesses. Ever. ‘I am tired of your games, Stephanie. Who else was in your house?’
She met his eyes squarely. ‘Ask him. She’s his too.’
‘Shut up, bitch!’ Chip snarled. ‘You don’t know anything. Just shut up.’
Ken spared him a cold glance. ‘She seems to know enough, Chip.’ Keeping one hand on the back of her head, Ken gripped her chin with the other, digging his fingers into her cheeks so hard he’d definitely leave bruises. Stephanie’s eyes flared wide, flickered with shock.
He smiled at her, tightening the grip on her hair. ‘You thought you were safe, didn’t you?’ he asked softly, pleased when she began to tremble again. ‘You thought because you’re so pretty and I planned to sell you, that I wouldn’t hurt you.’ He squeezed her face harder, her eyes now shining with tears. ‘You thought wrong, dear. Bruises heal in time and I’ve already shown you that I can hurt you without leaving a mark. But I’m getting too angry for that. You’d better answer me now or I’ll get so mad that I won’t worry about putting marks on your pretty skin. It won’t matter anymore because I will have killed you putting them there.’ He kept his voice soft, his smile friendly. He’d learned long ago that the combination scared people far more than a shout.
Stephanie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. No longer was she being coy or feisty. She was truly petrified. Excellent.
But then his cell phone picked that moment to ring. Cursing the interruption, he was tempted to ignore it until he realized it was the ringtone he’d set for Demetrius. Keeping his fingers clenched in Stephanie’s hair, he released her face to answer the phone. ‘Is it done?’
‘Not exactly.’ A sigh. ‘No.’
Maintaining his smile so that his frustration wouldn’t show, Ken released Stephanie’s hair and patted her cheek. ‘You’ve earned a momentary reprieve, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’ Telling Demetrius to hold on, he grabbed the two strips of cloth that had been used to gag Stephanie and her father. He wadded the cloth and shoved one gag into each of their mouths, then went up the stairs to the kitchen, where he could watch his captives on the security monitor.
‘All right,’ he said calmly to Demetrius. ‘What happened? You were supposed to shoot him. That’s all.’
‘I did shoot him,’ Demetrius said, disgruntled. ‘I may have missed.’
‘You may have missed?’ Ken hissed. New rage barreled through him, and he put his speaker phone on mute, letting his furious breath shudder out. Breathe until you can speak without raising your voice. He could
n’t let his captives hear him losing it. It would give them hope, and he didn’t have time to strip new-found hope away. He needed to know who’d witnessed the Anderses’ abduction.
‘Ken?’ Demetrius asked through the speaker a minute later. ‘You still there, man?’
Ken unmuted the phone. ‘I am here,’ he said, calm now that he’d vented off some of the rage. ‘What do you mean, you missed?’
‘Don’t take that tone with me, man,’ Demetrius said, his own anger rising. ‘And if you’re thinking about saying if you want something done right, do it yourself, then I’m out of here.’
It wasn’t the first time Demetrius had threatened to close up shop, so Ken let the statement slide. ‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ he said, even though he’d thought it. ‘But how could you miss him? We agreed that you’d take a head shot close enough that you’d be able to get the bullet out of him before the cops found it.’
‘Things changed,’ Demetrius said coldly. ‘I followed him and that homicide detective to Anders’s house. She got out and went to stand with the white-haired guy. The one in the FBI.’
‘Agent Novak,’ Ken said. He’d never met the man personally, but he’d read plenty about him, as the agent was a media darling. ‘And then?’
‘And then O’Bannion got out of the car and slunk around to the back of the house. I doubled back to the main road, which has a view of the back door. Bishop came around to yell at him. I had them both in my sights.’
‘And then you shot them.’
‘I took care of the plain-clothes cop on watch first.’
Ken groaned. ‘You killed a cop?’
‘I think he was a Fed.’
‘Aw, fuck, Demetrius.’
‘I don’t know if he’s dead. I just didn’t want him coming after me when I did O’Bannion and Bishop. They were ready to go into the house. Burton said he and Decker and the guys got fired on by Anders, so I figured there was evidence of a gunfight in the house. If O’Bannion got in and saw that, the cops wouldn’t need a warrant. They’d just storm the place. I had a silencer. Nobody was supposed to know they’d been shot.’
‘Except you missed.’
‘I may have missed,’ Demetrius said through his teeth. ‘The bastard’s fast. He moved at the last second. My bullet hit the door exactly where his head had been.’
‘Why didn’t you shoot him again?’
‘I did. Bastard grabbed the woman, shouldered the door open and went through it like it was made of paper.’
‘Because Burton’s men had already broken the door in.’ Ken rubbed his temples. ‘O’Bannion will be impossible to catch now. He’ll be doubly careful. Plus now we’ve got CPD and the FBI out for our blood.’
‘I may have hit O’Bannion with the second shot,’ Demetrius said, completely ignoring the consequences of having shot a Fed. ‘I’m monitoring the cops on my police radio. The ones watching the front of the house just called for a second rescue squad. The first one is at the back of the house with the Fed I shot.’
‘You think they called the medics because you hit O’Bannion?’
‘They’re not coming for the detective. I don’t think I hit her at all, because he shielded her. It’s got to be for O’Bannion. I know I didn’t kill him. Probably just grazed him, so they’ll just stitch him up and send him home. He still needs to be dealt with. I won’t miss him again.’
‘Oh my God, Demetrius. Listen to yourself. You shot and may have killed a Fed. O’Bannion aside, the FBI isn’t going to let this pass. You’re going to have every Fed in the area looking for you.’
‘They didn’t see me.’
‘But they’ll find your bullet! Jesus.’ Ken’s voice had risen, and he sucked in a breath to quiet himself.
‘Look,’ Demetrius said reasonably. ‘They won’t know it’s us if we deflect. That’s why I was going after O’Bannion with my Ruger to begin with – to make it look like whoever shot at him this morning in the alley was just finishing the job. I have to get close enough.’
‘How are you planning to do that now?’
‘I’m going to his office and I’m going to wait outside for the first person to come out. I will then follow that person and grab them as soon as I can. I’ll draw him to me.’
Ken sighed. They were in too deep to turn back now. ‘If he escapes again . . .’
‘I get it,’ Demetrius growled. ‘I won’t miss again.’
‘You’d better not.’ He looked up to the security monitor, where he could see both surviving Anderses struggling with their bonds. ‘We might have another problem. It seems the Anderses have been holding out on us, buying time because there was either someone still in the house when Burton and Decker got there, or someone who will at least know they’ve been taken. I think they’re hoping for a rescue.’
‘Shit. Who was there?’
‘The girl was about to tell me when you called. I’m going to put Decker on it. Hopefully he’s had a chance to listen to enough of the audio files from the trackers to get an idea of who was in that damn house.’
‘I’ll take care of O’Bannion quickly, then I’ll deal with whoever the Anderses are counting on for rescue.’
‘Just sort out O’Bannion. I’ll deal with the Anderses and their witnesses myself.’
For a moment Ken thought Demetrius would argue, but his friend finally huffed out a breath. ‘Fine. Suit yourself,’ he said, his tone hard and angry.
Ken hung up. ‘I might just have to,’ he murmured. He and Demetrius had been friends for years, but this time the man’s cockiness might have caused them irreparable damage.
If CPD and the Feds got one whiff that Demetrius had pulled the trigger on their boy, they’d stop at nothing until he was behind bars or dead. And there was no way that Ken was allowing himself to get pulled down with him. Even if that meant ending Demetrius before the Feds did.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 1.35 P.M.
Marcus lay on his stomach on the basement floor, shining the light under the bed. An old woman flinched at the glare, moaning again. She looked to be in her seventies, or maybe even older. She’d been beaten severely, her face covered with more cuts and bruises. Her lower lip was split, the blood dried now. The wounds he’d seen on her hands were probably defensive in nature. The thought made him ill. Who would beat an old woman?
Perhaps the same person who’d bought, owned and beaten a young woman so severely that even a seasoned cop like Scarlett had pronounced it ‘bad’.
‘Ma’am?’ Scarlett slid to her stomach, her head touching Marcus’s as she squeezed next to him under the bed. ‘My name is Detective Bishop. We’re going to get you help. Just hold on.’
‘Thank you,’ the woman whispered.
‘Who are you?’ Marcus asked her, and had to strain to hear the reply.
‘Tabby.’
‘Tabby?’ he repeated. ‘Where’s the baby, Tabby?’
A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek, and Marcus’s heart froze. Until he heard Tabby’s barely audible words.
‘Safe. She’s safe.’ More tears flowed. ‘Not enough. Never enough.’ Her bony hand shot out and grabbed Marcus’s wrist. ‘You’re him? The man from the park?’
The basement stairs shook as several people ran down from the first floor. Marcus didn’t look over to see who was there. His focus was on the old woman. ‘Yes. How did you know about me?’
‘Tala . . .’ A great gulping breath, followed by a dry hacking cough. ‘Told me. I told her to trust you. Make them pay.’
‘Who?’
‘Nephew. His wife. Their brat. Evil, evil. Please, promise me. Make them pay.’
‘Did they do this to you?’
‘He did. Chip.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I took the baby. His baby.’
Marcus’s stomach clenched, even though he’d expected the father of Tala’s baby to be one of her abusers.
Tabby’s lips curved. ‘Malaya,’ she whispered. ‘Free now.’
/>
‘That’s good,’ Scarlett breathed. ‘That’s very good. Where is she, ma’am?’
‘Friend. Annie. Annabelle is her name.’
‘Is she a neighbor?’ Scarlett asked.
‘No.’ More of that hacking cough, and then Tabby’s eyelids fluttered, her grip on Marcus’s wrist weakening. ‘Church,’ she whispered.
A paramedic moved into their line of vision. ‘Detective Bishop, you and the gentleman need to move.’
Marcus and Scarlett rolled to their feet as two uniformed policemen picked up the bed over Tabby’s body and moved it to a sterile tarp. The cops’ movements were directed by the same man who’d processed the scene of Tala’s murder. Meanwhile, two paramedics knelt on either side of Tabby, taking her vitals while getting her medical information. The woman’s answers came in fits and spurts.
‘I need to ask her more questions,’ Scarlett said.
One of the paramedics glanced up and shook his head. ‘Her blood pressure is so low it’s a wonder she’s still breathing.’
‘One question,’ Scarlett insisted, moving close to the stretcher where the woman had been laid. ‘Where are your nephew and his wife and daughter?’
Another smile curved Tabby’s lips, this one grimly satisfied. ‘They took them. Kicking. Screaming.’
Scarlett crouched beside the stretcher. ‘Who is “they”?’
‘I don’t know.’ The words were uttered on an agonized huff of breath, the old woman significantly paler after being moved from the floor to the stretcher. ‘Had guns.’
‘How did you end up under the bed?’ Scarlett asked. Marcus wanted to tug her to her feet to get her to leave the old woman alone. But Tabby waved her closer.
‘Chip. Shoved me . . . under the bed.’ Another cough racked her. ‘When they came.’
The paramedics lifted the stretcher. ‘Detective, we have to go. Now.’
‘Hey, Bishop,’ Deacon called from the other side of the basement. ‘Come and see this.’
Marcus didn’t ask permission. He simply followed Scarlett. Someone had turned on the lights, illuminating a spartan but clean living space. There was a tiny kitchen, a bath, three beds and three small chests of drawers. For Tala and her family? But then where was the crib?