Keep (Command #2) (19 page)

He had no choice. Gray and green cars were flooding down the road towards them, their blue lights circling overhead. Bavarian State Police. Two of the squad cars slid to a stop at an angle near the exit from the main road, barricading it as several more cars bore down on them.

Jason’s expression was sheer determination as he shifted back into reverse and stomped on the accelerator.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Shawn demanded. Why was he running from the police when they could help?

“I can pull the tags from the security cameras at Gate One, and they can get an APB out. We’ve got to get them before they dump the cars.”

The BMW jerked to a halt beside the security booth they’d passed trying to leave, and Jason threw it into park as Shawn climbed out, both of them racing for it. The fire brigade’s siren wailed off in the distance and competed with the approaching police sirens.

The dead man was face-up, a startled expression frozen on his face and blood pooled beneath him. It was horrifying. Just another horrifying thing to add to tonight. On the hill, Shawn’s brewery was a ball of orange, glowing light.

Kara.

Jason had no outward reaction to the body. He pulled a pen from his suit pocket, stepped gingerly over the man strewn across the ground, and used the pen to enter a keystroke into the computer system, trying not to touch anything at the crime scene.

Tires screeched to a halt outside the booth, immediately followed by shouts for them to come out with their hands up.

“I’m the CEO,” Shawn said, stepping out and raising his arms, “and he’s the head of security. A woman was abducted.”

“I have images of the vehicles.” Jason exited the booth, his attention squarely on the officer closest to him. He explained the situation efficiently and professionally, and even though he wasn’t German police, there was something familiar in the authority of his voice that the police officers recognized. Thirty seconds later an officer was radioing in the license numbers.

When it was done, Jason’s dark eyes focused on Shawn.

“What’s going to happen to her,” Shawn asked, “when they realize she’s not who she says she is?”

The expression on his brother’s face was one he hadn’t seen before and didn’t understand. Guilt? Fear? It created a worry so great, it blotted everything else out.

Juric rose onto his knees on the mattress so Kara, trapped beneath him, could roll onto her side and gasp for air. She couldn’t find any. What the fuck did he mean the men came for her?

“I don’t understand,” she said. How was he planning to use her to get to Laurel?

“You will.” Juric hauled her up so they both stood on the mattress, his cold, blue eyes clouding with something. Anticipation. He yanked her across the dirty floor to a tarp and pulled it back to reveal an elegant Mercedes-Benz sedan. “You can ride in the passenger seat or the trunk.”

He opened the door for her like he was a gentleman. The cautious woman in her said that this was a trick and she should refuse. But he didn’t want to kill her, at least not yet, and the last ride in the trunk had been cramped and left her aching. She knew it was the wrong choice, but she slipped into the seat, hesitant.

He looked pleased. “Put your seatbelt on.”

The handcuffs reminded her of their presence when she moved. She wasn’t used to having to do everything with both hands and it was awkward. As soon as she clicked the buckle, there was a sting in her arm and her head snapped back to him.

“What was that?” she asked, panic rising. He’d just stuck her with a needle. Oh, god, what was in that syringe?

“A precaution. The first time I drove with a Hayward, she tried to kill us.”

It took no time for the drug to hit her.

-11-

The bag was on Kara’s head again. She sat upright in a soft, leather chair… it must be the car, for she could feel the motion and hear the steady roll of tires on pavement. New handcuffs, these ones metal, stopped her from pulling the bag off of her head. They were tight on her wrists and the chain rattled against something. They must have been threaded through the door handle. Which meant she could throw the door open and try to jump, but only if she wanted to be dragged across the pavement however fast they were going.

“Take the bag off,” she said, “I’m going to be sick.”

Juric called her bluff. “No, you’re not. You’ll figure out a way to not throw up in my car.”

She was nauseated, that much was true. Either the drugs or the situation was the cause, most likely a combination of both. She took a few deep breaths, clearing some of the fog from her head.

Thoughts returned to her layer by layer. He must have some plan for her, to use her as leverage or revenge. All she could hope was that Jason would take her sister and run as Ethan had told them to. Hope that they wouldn’t squander the opportunity she’d given them in a foolish attempt to save her.

They’d all end up dead in the process.

Kara was as good as dead, anyway. There was no point in them dying as well. But she’d go out fighting. It wasn’t in her nature to give up. This was what had caused the rift five years ago between her and Laurel, when their mother gave up on her battle with cancer and Laurel let her do it. It came to an ugly head right after the funeral when Kara was fall-down drunk, a bitter orphan. Crying didn’t help. It didn’t give her the release she craved. Instead she’d unloaded everything on Laurel in a fiery speech of hate and anger that had driven the only member of her family away.

“You should know,” Kara said, the fire in her throat making the words burn, “I have a temper. Consider this your warning.”

“Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”

The car stopped not long after. He leaned over her and, even with the bag over her head, she could tell he was much too close. His cold hand closed on her wrist and she flinched at the touch.

“It’s okay, I’m just undoing the handcuffs.”

Her breath quickened at the opportunity, but before she knew it, he’d unlatched one cuff only to redo it when it was free from the door handle. His hands stopped hers as she attempted to pull the hood.

“I’ll tell you when that can come off.”

His door opened and then shut, and a few seconds later hers opened.

“Wait,” he said, as she moved to get out of the car. She didn’t have any shoes on, and the ground was wet and cold beneath her bare feet. His fingers closed around an ankle and put one of her heels on, followed by the other. This gesture was deliberately controlling.

“Stand up.” He slipped a hand around her elbow and guided her forward, his skin on hers made her want to scream. The thought crossed her mind to do that, but if he was marching her shackled with a bag over her head, she doubted there was anyone around to witness it. Or anyone who would be willing to help her.

No, she’d bide her time. She could be patient and strike at the right moment, which was not now. The cold air from outside went away and then a door shut behind her. His hand was gone from her elbow.

“Take, I don’t know, twelve steps forwards.”

Her instinct took over. “No.”

“I don’t like that word. Twelve steps, now.”

She followed cautiously, counting in her head until she reached twelve.

“One more,” he ordered, and she obeyed. “Turn right. There’s a doorknob in front of you.” Her hands searched and then closed around it. “Go inside and… you can take your hood off.”

She did so, eager. Her foot stepped into the room —

Screaming, she tumbled down carpeted stairs, bumping painfully into a wooden railing, knocking her head on one of the steps so that briefly everything went red. Her body came to rest at the base of the stairs, and for a moment she simply laid there. Aching and filled with fury. Nothing seemed broken, but everything was bruised.

His voice rang out from above. “I said you could take the hood off.”

She whipped it off to see him standing at the top of the staircase with a smug smile, causing her to spring to her feet and thunder up the steps.

He slammed the door shut in her face and there was a clunk like he’d dropped a huge bar into place. She pounded her fists against the door, screamed and kicked the metal.

“Let me know when your temper tantrum is over, and we’ll talk,” he said from the other side.

Kara stopped her pointless fit. It expended too much energy, which she knew she’d need. Limping painfully back down the stairs, she surveyed the room. Her new prison was utilitarian. A full-sized bed fit under the stairs. No other furniture. There were no outlets, no lamps, no windows. The only source of light came from a bare bulb in the ceiling. Nothing on the white walls.

There were clothes folded neatly at the foot of the bed. She sat down beside them, then shoved them to the floor. She took her torturous heels off and wanted to cry, to scream… she needed to do something.

There wasn’t a mirror in the bathroom, only a pedestal sink, a toilet, and the shower. Perhaps she should be thankful — he could have left her in a cage with a bucket, but that didn’t seem his style. She had the terrible feeling that this room was a tool. When she was finished in the bathroom and came out, she startled.

Juric waited for her. The clothes she’d pushed on the floor were back on the bed beside him, folded neatly. “These are for you.”

Her mouth went dry. “I like what I have on.”

“Hmm, me too, but you can’t stay in that dress forever.” She took a step back when he slowly rose to stand. “It looks like it ripped when you fell.”

Sure enough, the side of the dress by her hip had a shredded hole ripped in it. “You mean when I fell down the stairs you didn’t mention?”

“You said no to me.” The cold, piercing eyes bored into her. “How about from now on we be completely honest with each other?”

Perhaps ignorance was bliss, but she was too confused to consider it. “Okay. Are you going to kill me?”

He took a moment. “Not tonight.”

It wasn’t really an answer. “Why not?”

“Are you anxious to die?”

“Of course not. But I won’t let you use me to get to her.”

His face hardened. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do.”

She hesitated. Then, she let an evil smile widen across her face. He could try to control her, but he would fail. She was excellent at controlling her mind and body when necessary. There was a thin line between pleasure and pain, so it stood to reason she could stay quiet when he hurt her. Not if, but when. One look at him said what he had in store for her was nothing good.

“Please take off your dress.”

“Not a chance.”

He reached into his suit pocket. It wasn’t for the gun, as she had assumed it would be.

“Are you aware,” she said, her eyes on the blade as he flicked it open, “that I killed the last man that came at me with a knife?” She stood her ground when he approached her, muting the screams inside that were just below the surface of her cool facade.

“The one in your apartment?” He grinned. “That was you?”

She gasped.
Oh, god.
Juric had been the one to get the body from her place?

“He wasn’t actually dead when I got there, but I finished the job for you. Did the son of a bitch give you this?”

His fingers skimmed the side of her neck where the cut had almost finished healing, and his fingertips on her skin made her lurch away. She’d rather have the knife than that touch. He’d done it like he was familiar with her. Intimate.

“Why were you at my place?” Hysteria made her throat close up.

“I wanted to meet you. We’ve a lot in common.”

She was going to throw up. “We have nothing in common.”

He gave her a plain look. “Don’t argue with me. Now, we’ll try this again. Take off your dress.”

“No.”

Whatever pleasantness was on his face vanished. “Was I unclear? I don’t care for that word.”

“Get used to it.” She didn’t flinch when he set the flat side of the blade on her skin right below where the man had cut her.

Air left her rapidly when he grabbed one of the straps of her dress and cut it, then the other, and the destroyed dress fell from her body. It exposed what she’d worn for Shawn. The other set of expensive lingerie he’d unknowingly bought for her. She’d hoped when she’d picked it out that Shawn would never get to see it, and now she was pissed that he wouldn’t. It added to the fire already raging in her belly.