Finders Keepers Losers Die (31 page)

Then I looked at him. Forget talking my way
out of it, I wasn't dealing with the Carl Fortune I knew. The man
in front of me was a sadistic, heartless murderer who'd managed to
hide his true self from his friends and manipulate everyone for
years. A man like that shouldn't be treated flippantly.

"Bastard," I managed to gasp.

His smile said it all.
Killer
.

I got into the driver's seat of the sedan
while he sat in the passenger side, gun still pointed at me. I
didn't dare open my mouth to ask him where to drive to in case he
shot my head off.

"Take the interstate," he said.

We drove for about an hour until the city
became a distant haze. I didn't dare speak. Some people would find
that amazing. After an hour, we drove through the woods and turned
left onto a smaller road then kept turning onto even smaller
tracks. My head was turned so much I couldn't work out if we were
back-tracking or going forward. Carl told me to take the next left
turn and I nearly missed it. It was hardly even a road, more like a
path through the thick underbrush. I had no idea how long we'd been
driving and it was too dark in the woods to tell the time of day. I
switched on the lights and bent over the steering wheel to see
ahead.

I stopped when a cabin appeared out of
nowhere.

"Get out," Carl said.

I headed for the cabin, his gun sticking
into my spine, prodding me forward. Best I could see, the cabin was
a rundown place with the wilderness swallowing up its doorstep. The
front porch sagged and holes punctured the rotting planks. Some of
the windows were smashed or missing altogether, and pieces of the
guttering hung loose like half-severed limbs.

Inside, the air smelled damp and sour.
Shattered glass lay near the broken windows and the rug in the
middle of the floor was so threadbare it looked like it would
crumble if moved. The layer of dust covering everything would give
any proud housewife a coronary.

Fortunately I wasn't too fussy. Especially
when my last few minutes could be spent there.

The cabin consisted of a single big room
with a rusty oven against the far wall, a sink next to that and a
few cupboards. A small, round wooden table and two chairs, one with
a broken back, made up the only furniture in the room. Apart from
the front door there was one other door which I hoped led to a
bathroom. I hoped even harder that Carl would let me use it before
the day was over.

He walked toward the oven and beckoned me to
follow. "Kneel down." He indicated a spot in front of him.

Oh God, he wanted me to perform oral sex on
him! If he forced me, I'd bite it off.

"This isn't sexual, Cat," he said on a
chuckle. "If I liked you I would have done something about it ages
ago."

"And I would have turned you down. I don't
go for liars and losers."

He brought the handle of the gun down hard
on the side of my head and I stumbled to the floor. Fuck, that
hurt. Blood trickled down my cheek and I swiped it away with the
back of my hand, fighting hard to keep my tears in check but not
succeeding.

"Any more crap from you and you'll find out
what it's like to be fucked by a real man."

"Yeah? Got a friend with you, have you?"

I was ready for the hit and braced myself.
Still, it didn't hurt any less. Pain ripped like fire through my
head. But there were no tears the second time. Not even close. It
felt like a victory.

Carl reached into his back pocket and
produced a set of handcuffs. While I was still dazed, he snapped
them on my left wrist. He looped the other end through the bar that
doubled as the oven door handle and towel rack, and closed it
around my right wrist.

I sat on the floor without protest. I
wouldn't give him the satisfaction of fighting the bonds. I figured
he knew the metal bar was screwed on tight enough that I couldn't
remove it.

He smiled down at me and nodded. "I've been
wanting to do that for months." He fetched a chair and placed it in
front of me just out of kicking range. He sat down and folded his
arms, still holding the gun. "Now, where's the key?"

"Key?"

"Don't even think about lying through this,
Cat. I followed you to Scarletti's mother's place and I saw you
leave with the box. I know you have the key and the number. So
where are they?"

"The box?" I frowned. I'd never told him
what the box contained. As far as he knew for sure, it only held
jewelry. "Oh, you mean the one Roberta employed me to find." I
shook my head. "There was some jewelry inside, just like she
said."

He sucked in his lips, making a smacking
sound. "Cat, my patience is running out. I don't want to hurt you
but I will if you don't give me straight answers."

I didn't doubt that part. The good guy skin
he'd worn for so long looked thinner by the minute and the bad guy
bones had begun to protrude.

"I know Roberta really wanted you to find
Lou's key and half of the account number and I know you found it
but haven't given it to her. Good move, by the way. It would have
been harder for me to get the key off her and Grimes."

He meant I was the easy option.
Well,
f
uck you
.

"Okay, I do have them but not on me. And I
can't remember the number anyway. I think there was a four. And
maybe a one."

"You're lying."

I stared straight into his eyes. "Search
me."

He did! I couldn't believe it when he got up
and checked my pockets. Then he felt under my top, inside my bra,
down my panties…everywhere. I wriggled and hissed and swore at him
but that didn't deter him. He squeezed and pinched and poked and
generally took longer than was necessary

"Something else I've been wanting to do for
months," he said as he squeezed my butt cheeks.

When he got to my shoes, I held my breath.
I'd done a good job of hiding the key and paper and there was no
visible evidence that the shoe had been torn apart.

After a few agonizing moments, he slid them
back on my feet.

"So where are they?"

"Will has them."

He hesitated. "No. I know you. You wouldn't
give them up to anyone else."

"It's true," I insisted.

He stood over me and pointed the gun at my
left foot. "Lie to me again and those fancy shoes you love to buy
will be half the price."

Oh boy. I swallowed the ball in my throat
and nodded. "In my apartment. I left them there after the fire
because I thought they'd be safe. No one would bother checking a
burnt out shell."

He stared me down and I stared right back.
Sweat beaded along my hairline and I wanted to wipe it away before
it formed rivulets but I didn't want to appear guilty. Everything
relied on him believing me.

"You're lying," he growled, baring his
teeth.

Christ. I blinked up at him, doing my best
Audrey Hepburn impression. "I'm not! I swear, Carl."

"You are. You always lie at least twice
before you tell the truth."

"I do?" Huh. I suppose he was right. "Only
once this time. Seriously, I love my feet. I want to keep them
both. I am not lying to you."

He still studied me skeptically.

"I swear on my father's grave. I'm not
lying."

Finally, he gave a small nod then stood. He
crossed the floor to the front door, opened it and left. I heard
the car start then roar away from the cabin.

Sorry, Dad. You understand.

As soon as I was sure Carl wasn't coming
back, I worked on the cuffs but they were too strong. The bar
wouldn't budge either. After what seemed like hours of trying and
crying in pain as the metal gouged into my skin leaving bloody
marks, I slumped on the floor and screamed in frustration.

Then I screamed some more. Louder. Maybe
someone would pass by and hear. But no one did. My efforts achieved
a hoarse throat and a killer thirst but that was all. It was
hopeless. Carl would be back soon and wanting revenge for my lie. I
looked longingly at my foot and burst into racking sobs.

Maybe if I'd just told the truth…

My parents had always despaired at my
dishonesty. Dad had told me I'd get into trouble for lying one day.
Although I'd never actually seen it as lying, more like an inherent
talent for acting.

I guess my predicament could be blamed on
karma.

Please God, don't let me die. I'm too young.
Get me out of here and I promise I'll be nicer, even to Tanya, and
I'll give some of my shoes to charity.

But my pleas went unanswered. Carl walked
in. He looked pissed. Normally he was the calm one. The one who
preferred to hibernate in his office rather than contribute to an
argument. Hulking in the doorway, he looked like a gunpowder barrel
with a very short fuse next to an open fire.

"You fucking bitch! You little liar! I'll
kill you!"

He crossed the room in three enormous
strides and struck me across the cheek. My head snapped back and
hit the oven door with a loud
crack
. Everything went black
for a few seconds. When my vision returned, it brought stabbing
pain. I felt like I'd just had a lobotomy. Blood pounded between my
ears and my head screamed in agony.

I curled into a ball and hugged the oven,
hiding my face behind my arm. I didn't dare look in Carl's
direction in case he took the opportunity to inflict more
damage.

But nothing happened and eventually
curiosity got the better of my fear. I looked up at him.

And he frowned back at me. Strange. He even
looked a little remorseful. Jeez, I must have looked a mess.

"Fuck it, Cat." He stood with hands on hips
and shook his head. "Don't lie to me again, okay? I don't like
damaging that pretty face of yours." He smelled like he'd been
drinking.

"Then don't."
Ouch
. Speaking hurt. My
cheek burned like it was on fire.

"Can't. That's how it works. You lie, you
get hurt and maybe even die." He shrugged.

I closed my eyes against a wave of nausea.
"Kill me and you'll never find the key and number."

"So maybe I'll go after your mother instead.
Or Gina." He grinned. "Now
that
could be fun."

He would do it too. I wanted to vomit.

"Is that what you did to Daryl Miller?"
Keep talking, Cat. Keep your mind off the pain and his mind off
inflicting it.
"Threaten his family so he'd steal Lou's
computer?"

He laughed. "Miller did it for the money.
Greedy son of a bitch."

So I was right. Miller had been the insider,
not Stankovic. Carl had merely tied up a loose end by killing him.
If I gave him the key and number, I'd be another loose end.

"Waste of time though, wasn't it?" I asked.
"The computer told you zip."

"Oh, Cat." He punched his fist into his open
palm. "You're asking for it right now. Lucky I'm such a nice guy or
I'd be out that door on my way to Gina's right now."

So why wasn't he?

Maybe because he knew Will would have heard
his phone message and found Gina's car at the prison. Hopefully,
he'd contacted both Mom and Gina, or maybe all three of them were
looking for me. No way would Carl get anywhere near them. He
probably knew that. I was counting on it.

But I couldn't risk it anyway. I needed to
keep Carl with me until I could escape or be rescued. Which meant I
had to be careful not to get him angrier. Tough ask for a girl with
an attitude problem.

"Okay. I'll show you where it is," I
said.

He snorted. "Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not. I swear. Just leave Mom and Gina
out of this."

He cocked a brow then shook his head. "I
know you. You're lying."

"I'm not! I'm not the sort of person who
sells out her mother and best friend for money. You know
that
."

He shook his head but not before a long
hesitation. "No deal." He sat in the chair and studied me.

We descended into silence. I tried to make
myself comfortable on the hard floor under his scrutiny. He
couldn't take his eyes off me. I felt sick. Or maybe that was the
pain.

"It'll be priceless," he said finally with a
toss of his blond, boyish head.

"Huh?"

"The look on Will's face when he sees you."
He shifted in his seat. "He'll want to kill me."

"I thought you and him were buddies," I
said.

"That won't account for much. He loves you
and he's hot-headed. Yep, he'd definitely kill me if he had the
opportunity."

Loves? Will? Me? No way. "What do you mean,
loves?"

He rolled his eyes. "This isn't a fucking
dating service. Yes, he loves you. He made it clear when you
started that if I so much as winked at you, there'd be hell to
pay."

"Really." Ooh, my head might hurt and I was
freaking out about my predicament but it still felt nice hearing
it. Will threatened to fire someone over me!

"You don't take those kind of threats
lightly from Nutso Knight."

"Nutso?"

Carl stood and opened one of the high
cupboards. It was empty. He opened another and another, talking as
he worked his way along. "Back in his cop days, that's what we used
to call him. He was a freak. Shoot first and ask questions later.
He and Forde had a reputation for beating the crap out of suspects
until they confessed. It got results, but not always the right
ones."

So he wasn't talking about Will firing
him—he meant,
gulp
, hurting him.

"Until the day Scarface got his scar," I
added.

He opened another cupboard and smiled. "Ah,
there you are. Thought I'd run out of you, Darlin'." He pulled out
a bottle of Jack Daniels, unscrewed the top and took a long swig.
"Better." He returned to his seat and nursed the bottle like a
lover.

"I didn't know you drank."

"There's a lot of things you don't know
about me."

"No shit."