Cold & Deadly (Cold Justice: Crossfire #1)(62)

Gino had grabbed the lone woman in the room—the warden—who cried out as the mobster dragged her by her bound arms across the floor into the center of the room.

“What’s happening in there, Gino?” Joe kept his voice calm even though the tension in the room felt like something was about to shatter.

“Nothing’s happening, you fucking prick. That’s the fucking problem. We want out of here. Do you get it yet?”

Joe closed his eyes and seemed to be mentally bracing himself. “I’m sorry, Gino, that this is taking some time, but how am I supposed to arrange that helicopter when I don’t have the assurance from all three of you that you won’t hurt the hostages?”

Dominic pressed his lips together. Although he was still in his seat, he looked animated and full of energy. And handsome. Those bruises were faded to pale gray now and did not detract from the outer package.

And did you? Want to be touched?

Ava closed her eyes and looked away before he caught her staring.

“How about this, Joe? How about if we don’t get a helicopter in the yard in the next thirty minutes then I’m going to slice this bitch from throat to snatch.” Gino’s voice oozed venom. “But only after I’ve had a little fun.”

Gino tore the warden’s shirt open, and everyone in the room froze. The woman had maintained a brave front until that moment, but now her face crumpled as Gino ran the edge of the knife across her flesh, leaving a thin red welt in its wake.

Joe didn’t look up at the screen.

“Gino, talk to me. You know that if anything happens to the hostages it won’t look good and the chances of the higher ups delivering that helicopter gets increasingly less likely—”

Suddenly the third hostage-taker, the one who’d sat in the corner sharpening his knife and refusing to communicate for days, stood and walked over to where Gino held the trembling warden.

Milo Andris spoke quietly into the receiver. “You have my assurance that none of us will hurt any of the hostages, as long as you provide us with a helicopter as my colleagues have requested, by noon tomorrow. Now you can move forward.” And then Milo took the warden gently by the arm and sat her on the floor in the corner beside him, and he carried on sharpening that damned blade.

Gino grinned like Milo’s reaction had been his intention all along and went to rummage in the refrigerator, but Ava didn’t buy it. Gino wasn’t smart enough to pull off that level of manipulation, but he didn’t want to look foolish or take on the other guy.

Serial killers even freaked out mobsters.

A man knocked on the door of the negotiation room and entered. Joe muted his mic.

The newcomer wore old jeans and a t-shirt with a beer logo on the front. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Jones. The prison psychiatrist. Just got off the plane from Lisbon so apologies for looking like this. What can I do to help?”

Dominic hustled the guy over to Ava’s side of the room and sat in a chair so close to her his knee brushed her thigh. She tried not to react.

“Tell me everything you can about Milo Andris,” Dominic asked the psychiatrist. “Especially his relationship with the warden.”

*

The area was remote and densely wooded. A couple of hikers had reported finding the car, seemingly abandoned, ten miles upstream of where they’d pulled Caroline Perry out of the Rappahannock River.

Mallory stopped to take a breath.

“You okay?” Alex asked, taking her elbow.

“Junior is kickboxing my lungs, a favorite pastime, and I’m roughly the size of a hippopotamus, but apart from that…”

“Take it slow. The vehicle isn’t going anywhere.”

“Unless the local sheriff tows it.”

“He won’t tow it,” said Alex. She hated how reasonable he sounded. “Not when it belongs to a suspect in Tuesday’s shooting.”

Mallory pulled a face. “I suppose.”

She was grumpy and irritable. Her back ached. Alex was nothing but supportive, but she was still hugely pregnant and waddling like a freaking duck. At this point she wanted it all to be over with, but she also wanted a healthy baby.

Alex rubbed her lower back with a prescience that sometimes amazed her.

“I’m still terrified I’m going to be a lousy mom,” she muttered quietly as if that would somehow minimize her fears.

“You are going to be the most incredible mother in the world.” That’s what he always said.

“What if I’m not? What if I yell at the baby?”

“Mom’s yell. It’s a thing.”

“But—”

“You,” he stopped and looked down at her, smoothing her bangs to one side. “Are going to be an amazing mother. And”—he interrupted her again before she could argue—“you will also sometimes make mistakes. It’s allowed. You don’t need to pretend to be perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” she muttered. He always knew what to say to make her feel better.

Alex laughed. “That is a lie, but I intend to give everything I have to you and our family.” The gray of his eyes was warm silver. “Together we will figure this baby thing out.”

He grinned as she batted his stomach with the back of her hand. “Baby thing?”

He took her hand and kissed her fingers.