Anything He Wants: The Betrayal(16)
“Wait for her to reach you,” the assassin said, his oily voice through the car’s sound system making my hands curl into fists. I bit my lip as a solid snikt came from behind me, no doubt Ethan readying his weapon. My chin quivered and I gritted my teeth, determined to be strong. Oh, but it’s so hard.
“Perhaps now would be a good time to mention that your wife is wearing a bomb?”
I heard a quick intake of breath and Ethan’s grip on my upper arm tightened. The pleased note in the assassin’s obsequious voice intensified as he continued, “If you’re considering any heroics, the first casualty in this conflict will be your beloved wife. So please put away that gun you’re hiding behind Ms. Delacourt or my finger might get a bit…twitchy.”
Ethan immediately raised his hands in the air, brandishing the weapon he held, then tossed it inside the car. “Almost there, baby,” he called out to the redhead. My heart ached for the woman, who was stumbling blindly toward her husband, only able to use the sound of his voice to navigate. Twice she almost fell, a dangerous proposition as her hands were tied behind her back, but she managed to catch herself each time.
“How quickly do you think you can take your wife out of range?” Smug superiority fairly oozed from the car speakers. “Let’s play a game: Is the bomb on your wife triggered by radio signal or by cell phone? You get one guess. And don’t try to use the car when you escape, I might have that similarly wired to blow.” A dark laugh came from the sound system. “How far will you have to go to ensure her safety if this all goes sour, or I decide to be a real son of a bitch?”
Ethan growled, his body vibrating with the sound, but his voice was strong and sure as he continued to call to his wife. Her answering cries were full of fear and as she came close, Ethan stepped around me and caught her in his arms. I saw a red mark across one high cheekbone and what looked like a small burn on one shoulder, but otherwise she seemed okay. The redhead’s loud sob ripped through the tension as the bald man crushed her against his body, kissing the top of her head for a long moment before pulling the blindfold from her eyes and picking her up into his arms.
I knew the moment Celeste saw me because she gasped. “What’s Lucy doing here?” she demanded, voice suddenly strong. Her eyes fell to the handcuffs on my wrists and she gave her husband a piercing look, fear giving way to confusion.
“My finger is getting itchy on this button,” the assassin’s impatient voice came through the speakers, and a dawning horror flowed across the redhead’s face.
“No,” Celeste blurted out, “you can’t leave her here.” When Ethan didn’t reply but only turned toward a nearby alley, Celeste’s protests rose to shrieking levels and she struggled in his arms. The small woman had no chance, however; her hands were cuffed behind her and there was no way Ethan would let her go. I watched them fade into the distance, the man’s huge loping strides taking him far away quickly. A detached numbness came over me as I realized I was well and truly alone, and more than likely about to die. How did my life come to this?
Across the way, the driver’s side door opened and a man unfolded himself from the car. He was dressed casually, with only a thin leather jacket to protect him from the frosty air coming in off the water. His slacks flapped lazily in the breeze as he made his way toward me, footfalls from his wingtip shoes growing steadily louder. He wore narrow-framed sunglasses, despite the overcast light, that fit his face well. A detached part of my brain noted he was almost handsome but in a muted way, the “nice guy” who you never really noticed. Given the day’s events, I doubted I’d ever forget this man’s face if I lived through this.
I stood my ground as he approached, leaning against the car for support. My legs were jelly, threatening to collapse from the fear, but I faced him head-on and tried to emulate Jeremiah’s stoic stare. No mean feat, especially when he finally stopped close enough to for me to touch. He examined me silently and I met his gaze, my breaths coming quick, but I was unwilling to back down anymore.
“It’s rare I actually meet one of my targets face-to-face,” he said finally, quirking one eyebrow. “Of course, it’s also rare that they see me and live to tell the tale. Truth be told, I prefer it this way, watching a person’s face in those final moments.” He chuckled, the sound hollow of any real mirth. “Of course, you were never a target until you survived my poison. Tricky girl.”
The fake smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes and sent a shudder through me. His eyes were dead, dark pools that held nothing else beneath. I struggled to keep myself under control, clamping my lips tightly together so I wouldn’t make a sound. As determined as I was not to beg, the prospect of dying left me faint and I clung to the car mirror to keep from collapsing.