Chapter Fourteen
Sharon kept her smile firmly in place as Cooper motioned for her wine glass to be refilled.
The expensive Cabernet glinted blood-red in the candlelight of his private dining room, each sip bitter on her tongue despite its supposed quality.
Though she rarely drank, right now she wasn’t above a little liquid courage.
The few drinks she’d taken were a facade, simply to make Cooper think she was cooperating, none of it actually passing her lips.
She needed to keep her wits about her, but refusing the wine would only raise his suspicions.
She’d already aroused enough of those when Troy had dragged her back to Chicago.
“You know,” Cooper said, leaning back in his chair with practiced ease, “I’ve missed our little dinners, Sharon. Before all this…unpleasantness.”
Sharon took a small sip of wine, controlling her trembling hand. “Have you really, Cooper? Because the last time I checked, you were busy framing me for murder.”
Cooper laughed, the sound hollow and cold despite his charming smile. “So dramatic. That’s what I like about you.” His blue eyes hardened. “But also what makes you dangerous.”
“No, Vincent Frame was dangerous, I was simply the pawn who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You needed something to hold over my head, to make me kowtow to you, to give you the evidence I—”
“Stole. The word you’re looking for is stole.
” He finished the wine in his glass, and it was refilled almost instantly.
Nobody could say he didn’t have attentive and observant staff.
“None of this would have been necessary if you’d simply minded your own business.
But your curiosity got the best of you, didn’t it, my darling? ”
The room felt like it was shrinking with each passing minute.
Sharon glanced at the ornate gold and glass clock on the wall.
She needed more time. Dusty would be coming.
He had promised he’d find her no matter what, and she believed him.
The thought of him lying in the dirt, blood on his face, sent an ache through her chest so powerful it was almost physical.
Was he already on his way? Had he been badly hurt by Troy’s attack in the barn?
“I was never a threat to you, Cooper,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even. “Not until you made me one.”
“And yet here we are.” Cooper cut into his steak, the knife slicing through the meat with disturbing precision. “With you in possession of something that belongs to me.”
Sharon speared a roasted potato with her fork, appetite long gone but keeping up appearances. “I don’t have it anymore. I…burned it.”
“Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by fabricating lies.
” Cooper’s smile remained, but his eyes had gone cold.
“Files copied from my laptop. Highly sensitive files that I’m sure you’ve already realized could be…
problematic for me if they fell into the wrong hands.
” He shook his head and took a sip of his wine.
“I have the original files back. It cost me dearly, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to provide compensation for my troubles.
Fortunately, my contact at the FBI was more than happy to return my files. ”
Sharon’s heart hammered against her ribs. She lifted her wine, using the glass to hide her expression for a moment. Stalling. Always stalling.
Dusty would come. He had to. Had he gotten the files to Antonio and the FBI?
“If these files are so damaging,” she said, setting her glass down carefully, “maybe you shouldn’t have left your laptop unlocked.” She allowed herself a small smirk, a calculated risk to keep him engaged.
Cooper’s jaw tightened, but he chuckled. “Always the provocateur. That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”
“It already has,” she countered, thinking of the night before she’d gone on the run, when she’d discovered what kind of man Cooper really was.
The memory of finding those files—detailed accounts of money laundering for the mob, extortion, blackmail, embezzlement from Kerrigan, and the calculated murders of three people who had threatened to expose him—still made her stomach turn.
Including poor Vincent Frame, whose murder Cooper had so efficiently pinned on her.
“You know,” Cooper said, pushing his plate away, “I thought we could handle this like civilized people. I truly did.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “But I’m starting to think you need more persuasion than dinner and conversation.”
Icy dread crept down her spine. She leaned forward, letting the low-cut V in her dress fall open just enough to distract him. “Cooper,” she said, her voice deliberately husky, “you don’t have to threaten me. We were good together once, weren’t we?”
The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it, but he played along. “Were we? I seem to recall you walking out rather suddenly.”
“That was before I understood who you really are,” she said, reaching across to lightly touch his hand. Every fiber of her being revolted at the contact, but she thought of Dusty—of his warm eyes, his promise to find her—and found the strength to continue. “A powerful man. A dangerous man.”
Cooper turned his hand to capture hers, his grip suddenly painful. “And yet you still haven’t told me where the files are.”
Sharon maintained her smile even as panic fluttered in her chest. “Maybe I want to make sure I have…insurance.”
“Insurance.” Cooper’s voice hardened as he released her hand with a small push. “Let’s call it what it is, Sharon. Blackmail.”
“I prefer ‘a negotiation advantage.’” She took another sip of wine, her throat dry.
Through the window behind Cooper, she could see darkness had fallen over Chicago.
How much longer could she keep this going?
Where was Dusty? “I’ve come to realize I’m not made for running and hiding.
It’s tedious and dirty and boring. I much prefer this…
” She gestured around, indicating the opulently decorated dining room. “Maybe I just want to come…home.”
Cooper stood abruptly, causing her to flinch.
“And now we’ve come to the portion of the evening where you try to convince me you want me back.
” He shook his head, tutting. “Unfortunately, your lies will do little to sway me. Dinner is concluded. I thought we could do this pleasantly, but clearly you need more convincing.” He rounded the table and pulled her chair back with a sharp tug. “Get up.”
Sharon stood slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her. “Cooper, please—”
“Save it.” His fingers dug into her upper arm as he steered her toward the door. “Troy has been very patient, but even he has his limits.”
The mention of Lennox sent a wave of fear through her.
She remembered the cold brutality in his eyes as he’d dragged her away from the barn in Texas, away from Dusty’s unconscious form.
The sound of Dusty’s head hitting the barn floor still echoed in her nightmares.
Troy was Cooper’s number one enforcer for a reason.
He enjoyed his work—sometimes a little too much.
“Cooper, wait.”
“No, no more stalling. No more of your petty charade, my dear, it’s beneath you.”
Cooper propelled her down the hallway toward his library, the grip on her arm unyielding. Sharon searched desperately for something, anything to say that might buy her more time.
“The files aren’t in Chicago,” she blurted out. “They’re in Texas.”
Cooper paused for only a moment before continuing to march her forward. “Then you’ll tell Troy exactly where in Texas, won’t you?”
“I need assurances,” she insisted, digging in her heels as they approached the library doors. “Promises that you won’t hurt me, that you’ll let me go. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again. I’ll leave the country, go someplace where they don’t have extradition. Please, Cooper.”
Cooper spun her around, his face inches from hers. “You’re not in a position to demand anything.” His breath was hot against her face, smelling of wine, his anger a palpable thing. “You’re alone, Sharon. No one is going to ride to the rescue. No one even knows you’re here.”
But someone did know. The man she loved knew Cooper’s men had taken her.
And he was coming, she knew it with a soul-deep certainty.
Too bad, Dusty would be walking into a trap.
As long as Cooper had her, Dusty’s hands were tied.
She knew he wouldn’t do anything that might cause Cooper to turn his anger toward her.
Cooper pushed open the library doors. Inside, Troy stood by the fireplace, his hulking frame silhouetted against the flames.
The huge Christmas tree in the corner made a mockery of the scene, the twinkling lights that should have been a sign of happiness and a celebration of joy, instead seemed to taunt her.
Sharon’s gaze immediately went to the gun tucked into Troy’s waistband, barely concealed by his jacket. Was there any way she could get it?
“Boss,” Troy acknowledged with a nod. “She finally ready to talk?”
“She will be,” Cooper said, shoving her farther into the room.
Sharon stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of a leather chair.
Her mind raced through options, each more desperate than the last. The canvas bag with the files was still hidden under that crate in the barn, hundreds of miles away in Texas.
Unless Dusty had gotten them to Antonio.
Though she’d never been much of a poker player, maybe it was time to bluff.
“You know what, Cooper?” she said, straightening her spine and finding a well of courage she hadn’t known existed. “Do your worst. Because unlike you, I’m not afraid of the truth.”
Troy stepped forward, reaching for his gun. “Want me to start with her fingers, boss? Or should we try something else first?”