Chapter 22
KARA
Breath was frozen in my lungs as I took a step toward the gunman.
The man had thick eyebrows and fat lips that turned down in a sneer as he examined me. I could feel every pair of eyes in the crowd on me as I shuffled forward on the ridiculous shoes. I kept my gaze fixed on the gunman when I passed Jason and Laurel, not wanting to give anything away.
Plus, it would be too much to handle, too emotional. My last memory would not be of my sister’s face streaked with fear.
When I reached the man who seemed to be the leader, the one who had jumped on the table and triggered the explosion, he hopped down and sauntered up to me.
This man was definitely not Juric.
The device used to set off the explosions was a phone, still clutched in his hand.
On the tiny screen I could see a picture of Laurel, where she looked drugged.
Thank God we looked alike and I’d continued to color my hair blonde even when it had begun to darken in college.
I was blonder than Laurel was now, anyway.
The gunman was skeptical. I looked like Laurel, but it wasn’t like we were twins.
“Who are you?” His accent wasn’t thick, but the gravity of everything made thought difficult and I struggled to process his question.
“Laurel Hayward.”
He pressed a button on the phone and brought it to his ear, uttering a few words in a language I didn’t recognize. The man nodded, satisfied with whatever the person on the other line said, and pocketed the phone.
“Give me your hands,” he ordered.
“Why?”
“He said you’d put up a fight.”
I’d make sure Juric knew how true that statement was if I got the chance. I lifted my hands, which were shaking violently, and the man looped a thick, white zip tie around my wrists. He yanked the end painfully to cinch it closed, and the plastic edges bit into my skin.
That was when it became horrifyingly real.
I’d taken my sister’s place and successfully fooled these men. Successfully fooled myself into believing I could do this until it was too late to turn back. The man nudged my shoulder and forced me to turn and face the people scattered across the lawn.
Black smoke poured from the windows of the brewery.
There was a woman dead on the ground near my feet.
And before me, Shawn’s employees, bloodied and every face staring up at me. I didn’t want to see any of it. Certainly not my sister, who sobbed in Jason’s arms. His face was a mixture of emotions I couldn’t place. He looked . . . shaken.
Hopefully, he was thinking about how to escape with his wife and how to save his sister-in-law who’d given him a tremendous gift.
Most of all, I didn’t want to see him.
Yet I faced the crowd, and it was like being on stage. An unspeakable force compelled my gaze to him.
Shawn couldn’t stop me. If he revealed I was lying, he’d condemn me to the same fate as the woman lying face down in the grass, blood staining her blonde hair, and the men would go back to looking for Laurel. He couldn’t come for me, because they’d kill him.
All he could do was sit there and watch them take me while his company burned behind him.
It looked like he was furious, but I had no way of knowing how much of it was directed at me and how much was a result of the situation.
But his anger visibly faded and was replaced with dread when he watched one of the other men pull a black bag from his back pocket and march toward me. The desire to run was so strong, my gaze darted around, searching for escape, but the tears burning at the corners of my eyes blurred my vision.
I knew I’d be able to breathe inside the bag, but it somehow felt like I was about to go underwater, and I gasped for breath. Everything I felt was mirrored on Shawn’s face.
“Wait—” My voice cracked, but the man didn’t.
He shoved it over my head, making everything black.
I panted for air, the fabric clinging to my mouth and nose, and when I went to adjust it, rough hands grasped my arms, forced me to turn, and thrust me forward.
Then they pulled me in a new direction. I was already disoriented from the bag, but I tried to keep hold of myself.
The heat grew stronger, and my legs went weak.
What if they push you into the fire, my irrational brain screamed. It was the worst possible way to go, burning alive in front of the people I cared about. But I stumbled along, half-carried by the men until the crackling flames were behind us.
Abruptly, the hands lifted me off the ground and pitched me forward. My elbows and knees took the worst of the impact as I landed on a hard, uneven surface, and something cut across my bicep.
One of them laughed when I swore with pain, and someone shoved my head down, forcing me to lie awkwardly in a cramped space.
Oh, shit. It was the trunk of a car.
“Take off your hood and I’ll put a bullet in each eye,” a voice said. The trunk slammed closed, and I yelped with surprise when the car lurched forward, peeling out.
My stomach filled with bile, and I gasped for air through the rough fabric. To keep myself from throwing up, I focused on the movement of the car.
Left, left . . . a bridge, then right. The car jostled, either over potholes or train tracks. The trunk stank of motor oil and faint decay, and I forced myself to keep memorizing the directions.
Another right turn. Or was that one more of a gentle merge?
Don’t think about the blonde woman who was murdered. Don’t think about whether you’ll ever see the people you care about again.
Were we driving in circles?
No. My heart sank further. It was a roundabout.
After what felt like thirty minutes, I gave up on the turns and focused on what else I could do, how I could work the problem. This might be my only time alone.
Besides being gorgeous, my dress had pockets hidden in the folds of its skirt. Not big enough for my phone; that was in my clutch somewhere back on the lawn, but it had room for my slim wallet—which had my ID in it.
I shifted, twisting in the cramped space to extract the leather pouch, which was extra difficult with my hands bound together. I hurried, not knowing how much longer I’d have before we arrived wherever they were taking me.
I unzipped the top and my fingertips fumbled over the plastic cards, searching for the one without any raised numbers or a heavy chip . . . but I found something I wasn’t expecting. Soft paper with raised ink.
Shawn’s business card.
I shoved it in my bra.
When I found my ID, I hid it inside my shoe, so I’d be standing on it when I was upright. At least it wouldn’t be the first place someone would check if they decided to search me.
The hood was hot and I was sweating under it, but I didn’t dare take it off. I ran my hands around the space, assessing the trunk’s interior, but it was nothing more than smooth metal. They’d stripped it of carpet and its latch release.
It was forever before the car finally stopped, but once it did, it was too soon. I wasn’t ready for whatever was waiting for me on the other side. Whoever was waiting for me.
The night air wafted over me when the trunk opened, chilling my skin. Hands lifted me out, set me on my feet, and dragged me across grass. Up steps and onto a hard surface.
Once again, the hands lifted and shoved and I flew forward.
This time I skidded to a stop across what felt like a bare mattress.
I scrambled to sit upright as sharp footsteps approached, and I drew in a deep breath.
The hood was yanked off, and the static from the fabric made my hair fly around wildly.
It took a moment to adjust to the light, but it wasn’t terribly bright in the large room. Only a single lantern hanging on a post. I sat on a grimy, bare mattress, in what looked like a barn that hadn’t been in use in years.
A man stood before me in a dark suit with no tie, the black hood in one hand and a gun in his other.
Juric.
There wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind, even though he looked different from Jason’s picture.
Older now, likely in his mid-thirties. He wore his tailored suit with confidence, an expensive watch decorating a wrist, and his now blond hair was swept neatly to one side. He looked polished, professional.
He was as attractive as he was terrifying.
I shivered when his piercing gaze swept over me, evaluating the woman his men had brought him.
He turned to them, his expression giving nothing away. He leveled the gun at the leader, the one who had bound my wrists, and two sharp cracks ripped from his gun. The man beside the leader opened his mouth to protest, but he wasn’t quick enough.
Two more shots rang out, and both men left splatters of red on the wall behind them as they fell.
The strangled cry died in my throat.
Be strong. Don’t show fear.
Satisfied they were dead, Juric lowered his gun and turned his focus back to me.
His voice was soft and seductive, which was extra disorienting given his actions. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Kara.”
Blank. No thought was possible. I swallowed a sticky lump in my throat as my shock began to subside. He sounded American, and for some reason, that filled me with more unease. His piercing gaze didn’t seem disappointed or angry.
Oh, shit. He seemed almost excited.
“She couldn’t make it.” My voice sounded much stronger than I felt. “You’ll have to settle for me.”
“Settle for you?” The blue of his irises was a violent sea. “No, I’m not doing that.”
I drew a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out through my mouth, trying to keep myself calm. I was desperate not to choke on my panic. There was something in his face that was haunting and horrifying.
“Stand up, please.”
I reluctantly obeyed, slowly rising from the mattress. With the heels on, I was the same height as him, and he didn’t like that. His eyes narrowed. I wasn’t allowed to be equal; he was the one with the power.
“Take off your shoes,” he demanded.
I stepped out of them because it no longer mattered if he found my ID card. He already knew who I was.
His gaze worked its way over my body, lingering at my cleavage, and it left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. Like I was nearly naked.
His voice was low and appreciative. “I like this dress.”
My stomach turned. How could I respond to that, other than to shudder?
I stared at the gun at Juric’s side, and it did not go unnoticed.
He grasped the cuff of his sleeve with his free hand and tugged it down, adjusting the way the suit coat sat on his broad shoulders.
Comfortable, relaxed. But he moved with an elegance that was off-putting, as if everything was calculated.
The gun was slipped into a holster hidden beneath his arm, disappearing beneath his suit coat.
“Does that make you feel safer?” he asked.
“No. It doesn’t.”
He gave a pleased smile. “Why do you think that is?”
Maybe I could stall him. Maybe Jason or the police weren’t far behind, and at any moment they’d burst through the barn door.
“I’m not na?ve,” I said, for my benefit more than his. “I know what kind of man you are.”
“Really?” He looked, for lack of a better word, delighted. “What kind of man am I?”
“You’ll do anything to get what you want.”
“How do you know that?”
“I used to be married to a man like you.”
A glimmer lit his piercing eyes, one that said he highly doubted Paul was anything like him. That he was so, so much worse than my ex-husband.
“We’re going to have fun together, you and me.” A chill ran down my spine. “Are you all right? Did my men hurt you?”
I clenched my teeth so hard it hurt. “They weren’t exactly gentle.”
His gaze dipped down to the gash on my arm that had stopped bleeding, but blood was smeared and crusted there.
“I’m sorry about that, but I took care of it.” He gestured to the bodies, but I jerked my gaze away. “They were warned not to harm you.”
My lungs refused to work when he came close enough I could hear his steady breathing, as if mocking me with his ease. Casual. Calm. I recoiled when he reached out and tried to grasp my arm, perhaps wanting to better examine the cut.
“Don’t touch me.”
He tilted his head, evaluating and considering. “Lie down on the mattress.”
The way he commanded it and the worry of what it implied scared me so much I whimpered. “I’d prefer to stand.”
“This isn’t about what you want.”
He shoved me backward, and because my hands were bound in front of me, I went down with nothing to break the fall except for his hands.
He eased me down onto the mattress while I gasped and struggled.
There was no time to recover, either. He stepped over me, putting a foot on either side of my hips, then dropped on top of me so I was trapped beneath his full weight.
I swung at him, but he grabbed the plastic tie and wrenched my hands above my head. It was easy for him.
“Don’t do this. If you fight, I’m going to win.”
It didn’t matter; I’d fight anyway. All the way until the very end. “You’ve already lost,” I spat out. “Your men brought me to you, instead of Laurel.”
At the sound of my sister’s name, one hand tightened painfully on my neck and his nostrils flared. He looked utterly furious as he glared down, the center of his pupils like black holes. My heart ground to a halt and ice flash-froze my body.
He looked like he wanted to murder me.
But he blinked and took a long, deep breath.
Then, another. Calm washed away his murderous expression, a few seconds at a time, until a slow, evil smile dawned across his lips. The hand around my neck loosened so it was no longer clenching but merely resting there. Less dangerous, but still threatening and possessive.
“Kara.” His voice scolded like I should know better. “My men weren’t supposed to bring me anyone else. They came for you.”