Chapter 29
Soren
“Do you hear that?” I pull away from Maya’s lips, which is next to impossible, and press my ear to the door.
“I don’t hear anything,” Maya says.
Exactly. “That’s what’s worrying me.”
“Bella…” She gasps, reaching for the door.
“Wait.” I position my body in front of hers. “I’ll go first.” I press my hand against the door, pushing it open and peeking down the hall.
It’s too quiet.
Opening the door all the way, I usher Maya out. “Stay behind me.”
I lead her down the hall, stepping over a pile of white foam and wood splinters. “You get Bella and go downstairs. I’ll see if I can get rid of this guy.”
“You haven’t managed so far,” comes Maya’s quick reply.
I shoot her a sharp look, but it’s about as effective as her prop knife.
She bites back a smile. “Sorry, I know this is serious, but after the closet it feels a little less…” She shrugs.
I know what she means. Even though we are in danger here, I feel more hopeful there’s a way out of it. Because I know what awaits me on the other side. Her.
I press a quick kiss to her lips. “Watch me prove you wrong.”
“If not, I’ll have to show you how it’s done.”
I grin. “Deal.”
She takes off, then comes to an abrupt stop. “What the—?”
Clearly, we missed something. There’s water everywhere, an empty bucket, and I almost slip on… marbles? And what’s with the slime? There’s not a clean surface in sight.
“How long were we in that closet?”
“Oh my gosh… Bella must have left the room. We have to find her now.”
I hear noise to my left and have a sneaking suspicion the little girl has been found by our unfriendly visitor.
“You go that way.” I nudge Maya in the opposite direction and sprint for the kitchen. But the sound didn’t come from the kitchen.
The pantry.
A door I’ve never seen before is open at the very back behind a false cabinet, and a man is halfway up the end of a slide.
“Come down here,” he yells. “Before I—”
I don’t let him finish his threat. I kick his backside, sending him headfirst into the slide. His body crumples, but he yells and pushes backward. The second he’s upright, I throw a fist at his oddly colored face.
“You won’t touch her. Or anyone else.”
He staggers and sways but refuses to go down. What’s it going to take? “Watch me,” he hisses, spitting blood onto the floor.
He lunges at me, and I skirt out of the pantry just in time to avoid a brutal hit to the stomach.
He lets out a grunt, rolling his shoulder as he stomps out of the pantry. He reaches into his pocket and pulls a knife.
Chances are that one is real.
“Give me the painting, or this finds a new home in your neck. I’m not going to ask again.”
A chill sweeps through my spine. It’s not an empty threat. He’s done this before.
“He doesn’t have it. I do.” Maya steps out from behind a pillar.
“No.” I turn around, to protect her, to do something that will make her disappear, but in my momentary distraction, the man grabs my neck, pressing the cool, sharp blade against my skin.
If he presses any harder, I’m gone. My blood goes cold.
Not for my own sake, but for hers and Bella’s.
Why did she come back? She was supposed to take Bella and go. She could be safe right now.
“Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” the man mutters dryly. “Now take me to it or your boy toy dies right in front of your eyes.”
Maya swallows. “Okay.”
I try to plead silently with her not to do this, but she avoids looking in my direction.
“Don’t,” I whisper, but the knife presses firmly against my skin. He shoves me forward with him, following as Maya leads the way through the penthouse.
“You have to promise you’ll leave if I give it to you,” Maya says.
“That’s all I wanted in the first place,” he says. It’s not an answer to her question, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“It’s in the living room,” Maya says.
No, it’s not. I’ve been in that room a hundred times since she hid it. I would have seen it. Does she have a plan, or is she trying to get me killed?
Was my kissing that bad?
I want to ask her what she’s doing, but she still refuses to look at me. And then she goes to the TV. She presses a brick beneath the screen, and a wide, skinny drawer pops open.
No.
It’s been there this whole time? How?
There’s something in Maya’s face—a look in her eyes that’s conflicting. Like she’s sorry, but maybe relieved to get rid of the stupid thing. I can’t blame her; it’s caused nothing but mayhem. All she wants to do is protect Bella.
Maya reaches into the drawer and gently pulls out the painting. The velvet backing of the frame has come loose on the bottom corner from all the scuffling for the piece. I hope it’s still worth the same when I leave here with it.
“Ah, there you are,” the man says to the painting.
“Let him go,” Maya says, her voice far from shaking. I’m proud of her. She’s come a long way since the first time she came face-to-face with a thief. Either she’s gotten used to the danger or it was me specifically scaring her. I don’t have time to access my internal psychologist to analyze that.
“I’ll release him after you hand over the painting and let me walk out of here,” the man says.
“That’s not what we agreed,” Maya shoots back.
“What you agreed, doll. Give me the painting.”
Finally, finally, Maya looks at me. Utter hopelessness lines her eyes, but I give her a slight nod, saying it’s okay, I’ve got this. He can’t hold a knife to my throat and hold a painting. He’s going to have to choose.
And he does.
He slices the knife across my shoulder. A blinding pain disables me as he releases me and races out of the living room, painting in hand.
Maya screams, but I don’t stop to comfort her. I run, blinking rapidly to stay focused on anything but the warmth running down my arm. He’s heading to the balcony. But why?
“There’s no way out of here,” I yell as I hit the slick balcony. But I failed to notice something earlier when I was searching for Maya out here.
He made himself a way out. Or down, really.
He grabs the rope and moves toward the railing. He wraps a strap around the painting to attach it to the rope, but he doesn’t get the chance. I snatch the end of the rope, wrapping it around my back, using my body weight to get it away from him.
He snarls, setting the painting down to fight. I beat him to the punch, kicking his side. He throws a fist at my side, but I spin in time to avoid it. I use the taut rope to trip him, and he falls against the railing with a growl.
He lunges for me, but I match his momentum and slip past him.
He turns his angry, evil eyes on me. I grab onto the balcony railing, and using the leverage, propel my foot into his stomach.
He howls and bends over, and for a split second I think I’ve finally disabled him enough to gain the advantage.
I drop the rope, prepared to end this. But a glimmer of light reflects off the blade still in his hand.
He thrusts it at my leg, and I throw my body against the railing to avoid a cut to my artery.
“You’re getting on my nerves. You and those girls.”
“They’re pretty special.” My smile is short-lived.
Two things happen in the next moment. I’m shoved over and off the railing, but before I go over, I see those two special girls swinging a huge metal wok down on the man’s head.