Chapter 4
Chapter Four
She’d disengaged the alarm. The guards at the gallery door had been distracted, thanks to some very flirtatious catering staff members that Simone had paid handsomely. She’d bribed them long before arriving at the event. It paid to plot in advance.
Slipping inside the ballroom once again was a piece of cake, particularly since Hugo and Alexei were no longer the guards on duty. They’d been replaced by fresh guards, and those guards were way easier to distract.
One of the new guards was currently making out with a blonde while the second guard had been lured to the side by a redhead. Seriously, Frederick should look into better personnel. These men were practically amateurs.
But the poorly trained guards were good for her. Her win. Frederick’s mistake.
She picked the lock in a blink, hiding the action behind the voluminous skirt she wore, and then she slipped in and, because of her handy-dandy stolen remote, she didn’t have to worry about shrieking alarms interrupting her work.
And, bonus, she’d made a pitstop on her way to the gallery. The two video cameras in the gallery had gotten their power cut. Yes, she knew how to avoid the cameras, and she could have done so, but she’d had the time, so why not just be extra safe and guarantee zero footage of her little adventure?
Simone went straight to her prize. The pearl and ruby broach and matching earrings were hardly the most valuable items in the collection. But they were her goals. A certain individual would be very, very grateful to receive them back.
She owed that individual a great deal, and the return of these pieces would go a long way toward paying the debt.
Her gaze darted around the gallery. So many wonderful works of art. So many tempting treasures. Not for her, though. Only the broach and the earrings were for her. Her hand reached for the waiting broach. Time for these jewels to return home.
“You should stop, now.” A low, gravelly voice. One with a heavy Russian accent. A voice that came from the right. From behind the long, billowing curtains that lined the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Her head had snapped toward those curtains as soon as she heard the distinct voice.
And, sure enough, Alexei shoved the curtains aside as he stepped forward, with a gun gripped in his hand. For the second time that night, Alexei advanced and pointed a gun right at her.
The man was such a pain in her ass.
Since her head was turned toward him, she angled her body in his direction, too, and when she made that angle, Simone happened to pick up the broach and the earrings.
Her hand dipped into one of the many pockets of her dress.
The delightful pockets in the gown’s skirt were the sole reason she’d been drawn to the costume dress in the first place.
Simone adored a dress with pockets. So useful.
“Hands up!” Alexei barked.
She lifted her hands up. Both hands were now empty, so why not lift them up? “I think there is some sort of mistake here.”
“Your mistake.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he snarled those words. Then he was lurching forward.
She tensed.
The gun shoved into her face. That was not a very polite response.
Simone shifted one of her hands, and she pressed her index finger to the barrel of the gun as she carefully pointed it a few inches away from her face. Not like she wanted a blast between her eyes. Or, anywhere on her, actually. “I can explain.”
The gun immediately aimed between her eyes again.
“Get Frederick!” she urged him. “He’s the one who told me to come back inside. We were supposed to meet here. Frederick is—”
“The one who told me to wait when he realized his alarm control had been stolen.”
Oh, damn. She’d truly thought it would take him longer to notice that bit of theft.
“But Frederick thought Ryan Quinn would be the one to sneak in here like a rat.” More spittle. Especially on the rat part of the sentence.
Her shoulders stiffened. “I do not like having a gun shoved in my face.”
“Then you should not be a dirty thief.” His accent hit hard on dirty.
Her eyes narrowed. “I work for Frederick. I am following his commands. If you don’t believe me, get him in here.” Anything to buy her some time to figure a way out of this mess.
“The boss doesn’t want dead bodies near his guests.”
Well, that was something. Especially since she did not want to become a dead body.
“You’re coming with me,” Alexei ordered.
“What? Like, now?”
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. That grip of his hurt.
She could feel her bones grinding together as he yanked her in front of him.
The jerk actually moved pretty fast. One moment, the gun was in her face, and in the next instant, she was positioned in front of him, with the gun shoved against her back and him looming behind her.
“Yes, like now!” Rage poured in his voice.
She did not like the muzzle of the gun cutting into her back. The cold metal of the gun pressed directly to her skin since the back of her gown did a daring plunge. “This is such a mistake.”
“A fatal mistake that you have made.”
“I’m Frederick’s personal assistant! I’m assisting him!”
“He was suspicious when we found you and Ryan Quinn in this gallery.”
Her heart slammed into her chest. Hard.
“Frederick wanted eyes in here. He sent me to wait. To watch. I caught you. Like a rat in my trap.”
Again with the rat comparisons. “So insulting,” she muttered.
“You will tell the boss everything.”
She didn’t have much to tell. “I’ll tell him what an asshole you are and that he should fire you immediately!
Seriously, threatening me with a gun? Twice in one night?
I don’t know what kind of jobs you usually do…
” Though she had plenty of suspicions. He was a scary man, and her instincts were usually not wrong about people.
“But this is not how one handles typical business.”
“It is how I handle my business.” He moved the gun long enough to yank open the gallery doors.
Alexei blasted orders at the guards who were still, ah, distracted by the catering staff.
Then Alexei was pushing her through the sprawling manor.
He repositioned the gun behind her and kept her tucked closely against him, so none of the drunk guests probably even realized that she was a woman fighting for her life.
She considered crying out desperately for help, but…
That gun was pressed against her spine. If she screamed, Alexei could just fire. He was too unpredictable for her. So she had to play along. For now.
He didn’t take her out the front of the house.
Sent them straight out into the storm that instantly soaked her skin and had her hair falling out of the twist she’d worked on so long.
The heavy locks clung to her shoulders. Not some gentle shower of rain, either.
The downpour felt more like hard, pounding nails biting into her flesh.
He shoved her through the rain and toward an ominous, black van.
“Get into the van!” Alexei shouted at her.
Sure, why not? She’d just jump into the van and go meekly to her death.
Nope. This was the instant where she was going to make her escape.
If she acted as if she was going to climb into the back of the waiting vehicle, Alexei would have to move the gun away from her.
She’d get free for a few, precious moments and…
“Simone!”
Her head jerked to the right. Blinking against the rain, she saw a big, dark figure running toward her.
No, no way.
She even shook her head in denial.
“Simone!” But that big, hulking figure in a tux was not stopping. It was Ryan Quinn, and he was heading straight toward her. “Simone, what in the hell are you doing out here?”
She could use him. He could be a distraction to help her flee. But, if she did that, then Ryan…he could get hurt. Alexei was already swinging the gun toward him, and she feared that he would shoot Ryan at any moment.
I can’t use him. I can’t risk him. “Ryan, run!” Simone screamed.
And he did run—right for her. He hurtled fast toward her even as Alexei pointed his weapon at Ryan.
“No!” Simone threw her body against Alexei.
The gun fired, and the eruption of the bullet sounded just like thunder.
She drove her fist into Alexei’s stomach. Then into his face. In response, he threw her against the side of the van.
There was a loud roar. She was pretty sure it came from Ryan.
Alexei was preparing to fire again. She surged from the van and jumped on his back. Her wet dress whipped around them both. He struggled, trying to throw her off, but she just clung tighter.
Ryan ripped the gun out of Alexei’s hand. Simone actually thought that might be the moment when they won the fight. Maybe they could even race away to safety.
But then the other guards swarmed. At least ten other guards. And Simone realized that they were not, in fact, getting away.
Five minutes later, she and Ryan had been tied up, gagged, and tossed into the back of the waiting van.
Ten minutes later, she’d managed to yank her hands out of the ropes and free her ankles.
Simone bounded toward the rear of the van.
Unfortunately, about twenty seconds after her scramble for freedom, Alexei caught her.
He shoved a foul-smelling cloth over her face, the world spun, her body went limp, and her mind went absolutely dark.
The blast of thunder—or of a gunshot—was the last sound she heard.
“OhmyGod.” Simone gagged. “What is that awful smell?” Because she could smell before she could see. It was the terrible stench that had her jolting to wakefulness. Her eyes flew open and—
Ryan sat across from her. As in, about five feet away from her. He was in a wooden chair, with ropes around his body. His chest. His upper arms. His hands appeared tied behind his back. His ankles were tied to the chair legs.
And he had a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
She lunged toward him.