Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(92)

“Spinach,” she insisted.

I ignored her, tended to myself for a change. It really wasn’t too bad. Four hundred times our recommended daily allowance of sodium, not to mention the vegetables were mushy and tasteless, while the meat was stringy and gray, but other than that…

I really could’ve used a pill. A glass of wine. Something.

“You entertain much?” Z asked abruptly. He was staring at Justin. Z had taken seconds. Mick as well.

“What?”

“In that town house of yours. You own a business that depends on landing big contracts. Probably doesn’t hurt to have the right people over, wine and dine.”

“On occasion,” Justin allowed. My husband was sitting tightly, his beaten face wary.

“She cook?” Z stabbed a fork in my direction.

“My wife is an excellent cook. You’ve had enough opportunities to evaluate that for yourself.”

“What’s her favorite food?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s her favorite food? Bet she knows yours.” Z turned, stared at me.

“Beef Wellington,” I provided quietly.

Z turned back to Justin. “So?”

My husband kept his gaze on Z. “Fresh oranges,” he said slowly. “We had them on our honeymoon. Picked them ourselves straight off the tree. You can’t get anything like that from the grocery store.”

He was right. I had loved them then. Memories of a past life. The current taste of my pain.

I found myself looking down at my plate, wishing both men would stop talking about me.

“You plant an orange tree for her?” Z asked Justin.

“In Boston?”

“Build her a greenhouse. Or don’t you know how?”

Justin’s jaw tightened. Clearly he was being baited, but even I didn’t know why.

Z suddenly swung toward me. “Gonna leave him?”

I glanced up. All eyes were on me, including Ashlyn’s.

“When you return. Tomorrow night,” Z prodded. “Decision time.”

I forced my chin up. “None of your business,” I said clearly.

“Leopard never changes its spots.”

“Don’t you have someone else to go kidnap?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t warm. I swear the cobra tattoo was coiling and uncoiling restlessly around his head. “Don’t know. You’re going to be a tough family to top. Most people just cry a lot. You guys are much more…eventful.”

He contemplated Ashlyn next: “Boyfriend, or are you just a slut?”

She went with my approach. “None of your business.”

Which was a shame, because Justin and I had really wanted to know her answer. Probably, she had felt the same about us.

“Pretty girl like you should have higher standards.”

My daughter gave Z her best flat-eyed stare. “Really? What’s this, advice from a professional f*ckup? I mean, first you kidnap us, now you’re a life coach?”

Z smiled. If Mick’s laugh scared me, Z’s smile terrified me. He leaned back, placed his fork across his plate.

“Family,” he said at last, “is a terrible thing to waste.”

Then, he looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw it all. Resolution and regret.

We were dead.

Tomorrow, 3:00 P.M., they would receive the payoff, and then, they would kill us. Business. Plain and simple. Especially when dealing with a man with a fanged cobra tattooed around his head.

No one spoke again.

Z left. We cleaned up the kitchen. Radar arrived for his dinner, slipping two pills under his napkin, which I whisked away when bringing him fresh rolls. I returned the leftover shepherd’s pie to the walk-in fridge, dry swallowing the tablets the second I was out of sight and wishing bitterly they were hydrocodone instead.

Finally, Mick escorted us back to our cells, still no hand restraints, still the illusion of freedom.

Dead family walking.

When the cell door finally clanked shut behind us, I turned to find him grinning broadly. He winked, waggled his tongue and mouthed, Soon.

Last glance at the ever-present camera, then he disappeared.


ASHLYN WAS ASLEEP inside a matter of minutes. She climbed up to the top bunk and collapsed. She needed the rest. Justin and I needed to talk.

“They’re not going to let us go,” I said without preamble, perching restlessly on the lower bunk. “Tomorrow, three P.M., they’re going to take the money, then kill us.”

“Nonsense.” Justin was lying on his back across from me, hands tucked behind his head, staring up. “They’re professionals. No way they’re going to mess up a chance at nine mil.”

“None of this makes any sense. This huge sum of money is wired to their account, then they magically leave us alone? I mean, the second they have the money, what’s to stop them from harming us? We’re still in a prison. We’re still at their mercy.”

“We’ll be in the control room, safe from them. That’s what I set up with Z: Tomorrow, come deadline, we’ll use Radar’s phone to call my cell. Some federal agent in Boston will most likely answer. We’ll see him, he’ll see us. Visual confirmation. Then you, me and Ashlyn will move into the control room, locking it down and ensuring our own safety while the funds are being wired. The minute ransom has been received, Z and his team will exit stage right. While we await local law enforcement, who will return us to Boston and allow us to get on with our normal lives.”