Kiss Me If You Dare (31 page)

I crawled toward them, reaching for Simon’s ankles, hoping for a swift takedown. But a blur of movement from across the plant reached Simon before I did. The figure collided into our attacker, pummeling him over the rail and onto the staircase below.

“Candice!” I stared as my once-friend raced down the steps after Simon.

My father crumpled to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

“Dad, are you okay?” I made it to his side.

At his nod, I poked my head through the wide rails to see the fight below. Simon had turned the tables, with Candice now the one flailing on the stairs.

“Hang on! I’m coming!” I yanked on the rail and got back to my feet, racing to the steps.

A couple hardhats headed across the plant floor toward the commotion. I took the stairs two at a time, descending to the level of deafening turbines. Supersized gears and gadgetry whirred as the machines generated enough power to light up North America’s eastern seaboard. The steep run ended in an eagle’s nest suspended above the panorama.

With help from the steel toe of Simon’s work boot, Candice tottered over the platform rail, grabbing the ledge at the last moment, only to dangle above a distant floor. One less contender to worry about, Simon turned in my direction and came up the steps. I froze in panic. A single prod from his shoulder would be enough to send me flying. I gripped the rail with both hands and lashed out at his face with my foot as he came into range. But one deft hold-and-turn of my leg as he blew past left me clinging to the metal treads in pain.

“The professor was stupid to trust you.” I lashed out with words since my body was no longer cooperating.

“He was stupid to trust that Rigg woman.” Above me, Simon peered across the plant floor, leaving me to wonder about his words as I crept toward the dangling Candice.

Simon must not have liked what he saw coming his way. In a few short seconds, he was back in my face, one arm wrapped around my neck in a chokehold.

“Hostage time,” he said, his voice slithery in my ear. My heart raced. I blinked and closed my eyes even as he forced me up the staircase, a sharp object jabbing my ribs. I kept my mind on breathing, attempting to slow my metabolism down and drop my pulse to a reasonable level. Calm sea breezes and sandy beaches filled my inner vision, warding off the hostile hormones that would rob me of reason. Panic would not eclipse my memory this time. Whatever happened today, I would be a conscious witness. I would have perfect recall of every move, every decision. I would be in command of my mind and body. No paralyzing fear would overcome me today.

Serene beaches, beautiful sunsets, soft breezes, a loving God. . . I forced the images into my mind as we reached the plant floor. Three men with the CF logo on navy windbreakers huddled around my father, now looking up as Simon called to him.

“Get up, Russo. Majestic wants to kill you himself. Come quietly and I won’t kill your daughter.”

The men helped him to his feet. He groaned and hobbled our way.

“Stay back,” Simon said to the duo in hardhats as they surged after my father. A shot of pain in my ribs and I let out a holler. The men backed off.

I fought panic.

Lapping waves, pretty seashells, the cry of gulls . . .

Our backs were against the wall.

“Open it,” Simon said to my dad.

Dad pulled open a metal door.

We backed through and Dad closed it behind us. A few more steps and we were in some kind of tunnel. Rock walls looked patched in places, explaining why hardhats were in fashion at the plant.

“Dad!” Monique’s voice came from farther down the tunnel. They must have entered from another door.

“Stay back, honey,” my dad called.

“Are you okay?” It was Suzette’s voice this time.

Dad gave a loud exhale, his body tense as he kept up to the swiftly moving Simon. I tripped along, awkward in the stranglehold as we drew closer to the voices.

“We’ll be alright, Suz. Get to safety, hon. This guy’s a nut.”

“Watch your mouth, Russo.” Simon ground the sharp point of his weapon into my back.

“Ahhh!” I screamed in pain.

The tunnel angled up, making the going even more difficult as Simon dragged me by the neck.

We came to an intersection. Simon hesitated.

“Which way out of here?” he asked.

My dad looked at the two possible routes, eyebrows scrunched. A sign with the words EXIT lay on the ground, pointing in the direction we had just come from. I smirked at the thought of the girls staying one step ahead of us, knocking the exit sign off its fasteners, just to make Simon’s life more miserable—and hopefully shorter.

“The left tunnel,” my dad said after some thought.

A flash of headlights and the sound of a vehicle came from the gloom of the left tunnel.

“Then we’ll take a right.” By now Simon had my head tucked under his arm like a football, making it easier for both of us to move quickly.

“You can’t get out this way,” my dad said, huffing to keep up.

“Sure you can.”

Simon tightened his hold and I grabbed his forearm, trying to pry it away from my esophagus.

“I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .”

Simon laughed. “Get used to it. It’ll be a permanent condition as soon as I see daylight.” Simon slowed as the incline grew steeper. He let out a chuckle at some private thought. “You have no idea how pathetic you looked sitting up on that roof all night.”

“You were the one who took the ladder?”

“You were way too comfortable in Del Gloria. You needed a little fear factor, a little prodding to get you moving. I couldn’t wait forever for you to go looking for your father. The ladder, the writing on the wall . . . you’re pretty slow.”

“I can see you messing with me, but Celia and Portia? They could have died in that fire.”

“Don’t blame that fire on me. I had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t trying to kill you, just get you moving.”

“If you didn’t start that fire . . . then who?”

“Like I said, the professor shouldn’t have trusted Alexa Rigg. I did warn him.”

“Ms. Rigg? What did she have to do with it?”

He gave a low laugh. “She was once known as the Debutante of Dublin. A dazzler by day but part of Dublin’s retribution bomb squad by night. She retired to the

U.S. to raise her daughter in safety. She was one mistake I’m sure old Ambassador Braddock paid for the rest of his life.”

My knee banged the tunnel wall as he dragged me around a corner.

“I’m only glad the Debutante of Dublin blamed you for Jane’s death instead of taking out her revenge on me,” he added.

38

My legs scrambled to keep up to Simon’s fast pace. “You killed Jane?”

“The professor was paying me to protect you. Majestic was paying me to track you. And Jane got in the way. She knew too much and was using the information to get more of the Braddock fortune. I could have cared less until she tried to get a piece of my action. You elbow in on a hit, you end up at the bottom of a cliff.”

I dug my fingernails into the skin of his hand. “That’s disgusting. It was Thanksgiving Day.”

He cried out in surprise and slugged my temple. “You’re right. I should have waited until it wasn’t a national holiday.”

I blinked back tears, determined to remain in control of my emotions during crisis. I craned my neck around, but all I could see was Simon’s chin. “Can we take a break? I can’t keep going this speed with your arm cutting off my air.”

He waved his weapon in front of my face. A thick, straight piece of wood, like the handle of a wooden spoon, sharpened to a deadly point. Simple, nonmetallic, and effective in gaining my cooperation.

We passed a couple signs on the wall. SURGE CHAMBER, said one. REFUGE, said the other. Both arrows pointed ahead.

“Which way, Pops?” Simon twisted my neck as he asked the question, earning a good yell.

My dad was bent over, catching his breath. “You can’t get out this way. I already told you.”

“Come on, old man. There must be an escape tunnel somewhere.”

Dad shook his head. “The refuge is where you go if the escape tunnels collapse. There’s food and water in there.”

“I feel a breeze,” Simon said, holding out a hand to catch the air. “Where’s it coming from?”

“The vent shaft for the surge chamber,” Dad answered. “It’s a straight shot up. Unless you’re Spiderman, you can’t get out that way.”

Simon squeezed my neck. I started to gag.

“Unless I see daylight pretty quick, you’re going to watch your daughter die.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Dad gestured helplessly with his arms. “They’re coming for you. I suggest you give up without a fight.”

Simon dragged me through a metal arch toward the sound of rushing water. Dad followed behind. Another vast cavern, this one with a railing and a straight drop to swirling foam below.

“It’s a dead end,” my dad said.

“Dead end for you, maybe. Where’s this thing go?” Simon gestured to the water below.

Dad shook his head. “You wouldn’t have a chance. If you made it out of the lower chamber alive, it’s still almost two kilometers through the tailrace to open water.”

“Then you better hope we can backtrack through the escape tunnel. I only get paid when Majestic gets his man.”

A sound like a footstep, or a rock falling, came from the route behind us. Simon turned, yanking my head around with him. The sharp pointy stick prodded my jugular.

Candice stood in the archway.

“You’re okay.” My voice came out squeaky under pressure. From the shadows came Suzette, Monique, then Meagan. “Suzette, get the girls out of here,” my dad said, panic in his voice.

“Mr. Scroll is outnumbered, Jacob,” Candice purred. “I think he’ll put his kabob stick down and give up quietly.” She stood with her arms crossed, looking sleek in her black clothing. The other women followed suit, standing in menacing formation.

Simon laughed, each shake of his body driving the point farther into my skin. “Afraid of a bunch of girls? You look like more hostages to me.”

I grabbed his forearm, nudging the solid mass of muscle away from my air pipe. “Don’t mess with Candice. Trust me. Put the weapon down and run for your life.” “It’s good advice, Mr. Scroll,” she said. “I’ll give you ten seconds to comply.”

Simon laughed.

Candice dug into her pocket and took out a slim squirt bottle, as small as a breath mint dispenser.

“What’s that? Anthrax-on-the-go?”

“Something a little more fast-acting,” Candice seethed. With a quick thrust of her finger, a shot of liquid arced across the space between them. I felt a drop land on the back of my hair, even as Simon hollered and bent down, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

My head was still locked in his grip, but while he writhed, I made a sharp twist and jerked myself free— not without a jab to the neck.

“It’s amazing how effective good old-fashioned pepper spray can be. My own recipe too.” Candice grabbed my arm and pulled me out of reach of my captor.

I held a hand to my neck. Wet, oozing blood stuck to the fur of my new parka. “Jerk,” I said, grateful Simon had missed a major artery.

Simon slashed out with his pointy stick, slicing at my father’s shirt. Dad jumped back, perhaps considering whether it was worth trying to subdue the raving man.

Eyes red and watery and still completely closed, Simon screamed as he gashed the air with his weapon. “You’re going to die, Russo. You and your daughter both. I’m not done with you. Don’t try to leave.”

My dad walked away from the screaming lunatic and swept his wife and younger daughters into his arms and urged them back into the tunnel. “Come on, Patricia,” he called to me.

Simon made a blind lunge toward the sound of his voice, and caught hold of Candice’s jacket.

“Let go.” Her voice was low and threatening.

But Simon had the opposite intention. He pulled Candice to him and drove the point of his stick through the leather into her side.

“Ahhh!” Her scream echoed through the surge chamber. Simon flung her body around blindly, stabbing wherever his weapon found a weakness.

“Candice!” I screamed and ran toward them.

Blood ran from her face, her legs, her arms. She looked ripped to shreds. Candice screamed and flailed, but the angry man kept lashing out, showing no mercy.

I kicked at the back of his leg, popping it out from under him. He hollered and whirled, letting go of Candice and coming toward me, eyes barely slits across his face.

A slew of insults rolled across his lips. I dodged him, no plan in mind as I raced along the rail, heading through the gloom toward a blank rock wall.

“Really smart, Tish,” I chided myself as I ran along. In seconds I’d reached the end of the line. Panting, I turned to face Simon, too late to dodge the brute force that plowed me into the cavern wall. The air rushed out of me the same time my head made a deafening crunch against the stones. I opened my eyes in time to see his fist coming toward my face, weapon in hand.

I ducked to one side, feeling the point rip across my cheek and harpoon an earlobe exposed beneath my hardhat. No breath to scream, I rolled under Simon’s arm, feeling a tug and burning pain at the side of my head as the weapon pulled free of my skin. I scrambled away, my only thought survival, as Candice limped past me to confront our attacker.

“Just run,” I gasped.

She ignored me, fixed on her target. I turned to watch in horror as the older woman wrangled with Simon, the tip of the weapon only inches from her heart.

With a cry, she landed against the rail, leaning backward over the flowing water as she tried to avoid getting stabbed again.

Footsteps sounded behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see my father. He reached me, putting his arm around me just as Candice screamed and slipped over the rail. At the last moment her arms reached up and clung to Simon’s neck, bending him forward in a precarious dip over the railing. He tried pushing her away, but she swung her dangling body, knocking him off balance and tumbling him forward until only his back end was still on our side of the barrier. With a final grunt, Candice yanked him clear of the metal rods.