Nemesis (Southern Comfort) (40 page)

“Now, now, now, Detective.  You don’t expect me to give away all of my secrets, do you?”

Kathleen was already sick of playing his game.  But there were lives at stake, Anthony’s not the least among them, so she called up her patience reserves.  Her head throbbed in a steady cadence, but whether from injury or irritation she couldn’t say.  “I don’t expect you to give away anything, Mr. Marshall, but I do need to ascertain that there are other living, breathing individuals inside that SUV.”  The back windows were deeply tinted, and unless the locals brought in some infrared technology there’d be no way of verifying his story without verbal confirmation.

“Very well.”  He sighed his annoyance.  Although Kathleen suspected it was just part of his act.  Brady Marshall seemed to be very skilled at playing whatever role suited his interests at the moment.  Pretending to go along with the negotiation scenario would buy him some time while he came up with another plan.

There was some background noise while he moved inside the vehicle.  Some grunts and muffled groans.  Kathleen’s nerves frayed with every second that elapsed, causing her to start when Anthony’s cell phone vibrated.  Realizing she couldn’t afford to set aside her own phone, she reluctantly abandoned her hold on Anthony’s weapon.  And eased him over gently until his phone was within her reach.

The text message on the screen was both relief and heartache.

DCLN OK.  SADIE + COP MSSNG.  KEEP TLKNG.  SWAT ON WAY.

The message had come via Kim.  Kim, who had hostage negotiation training under her belt and could step in if Kathleen faltered.  She closed her eyes briefly, saying a word of thanks that her brother was safe, and steeled herself to the fact that Sadie’s fate might rest squarely on her shoulders.  Not to mention the other cop.  Kathleen remembered the rookie that the BPD had left at her brother’s door and cursed herself for not demanding a guard with more experience. They simply hadn’t thought that Marshall would be this bold.

But given the fact that he’d come to the station, sat in that interrogation room for over an hour, she guessed they really should have known better. 

The bastard had balls of steel.

The noises intensified on the other end of the line, bringing Kathleen’s focus back to the situation.  The moans and groans were distinctly male, making her wonder if it was the cop she was about to speak with.  Or the as-yet-unidentified hostage.  A hospital worker, perhaps?  But why wouldn’t Marshall have simply killed him?  Unless it was his brother who had always done the dirty work.

Her speculations were rendered null and void, however, as a cultured if slightly befuddled voice echoed across the line.  “Who are you?”

“Just say hello, Mr. Loafers.”

“You’ll never get… away with this.”

The shrill cry which followed made Kathleen wince.

“If you’re going to be stupid about this, you could at least try for a little originality.  Now identify yourself,” Marshall demanded, “or I’ll be forced to do that again.”

But even before the man could say the words, Kathleen’s stomach had already plummeted.  Because she recognized the voice of the other hostage
. 

Marshall had kidnapped Richard Carlisle.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“GET
your hands off me,” Declan snarled at the uniformed officer who blocked his way. 

Rogan had turned his back on his brother for five seconds and he’d slipped past him, trying to move up near Kim.  Kim’s psychology background added to her experience with hostage situations had made her real popular with the local police force. They’d even been willing to forgive her for being a fed.

Rogan dragged his eyes away from the flashing lights of the police cruiser behind which his girlfriend had gone into full law enforcement mode.  She was surrounded by a bunch of cops in militaristic combat gear, formulating strategy for getting both his sister and Sadie safely out of their respective vehicles. 

He looked back toward his brother, who’d lost what few marbles he had left.

Sighing, because the last thing the situation needed was a drug-fogged, irate, half-naked lunatic earning the ire of a battalion of armed law enforcement officials, he elbowed his way through the crowd of onlookers who’d inevitably gathered to watch the show.  His body tensed sympathetically over the look of sheer, furious terror on Declan’s face. 

Rogan paused a second to see if his feelings were simply that of commiseration or whether they were actually… shared. He felt both relief and a little stab of guilt when he realized that his emotions seemed to be his own.  Being connected to Dec like he had been earlier was disconcerting, to say the least. And while he liked to think that what had passed between them may have helped his brother in some way, he wasn’t exactly signing up for that kind of weirdness to happen regularly. 

Plus, that shit had hurt.

But seeing his brother so openly suffering was an ache he felt keenly nonetheless. Because Declan had rarely been open about much of anything.  That he loved Sadie was abundantly clear.  As was the fact that if he lost her it would likely kill him.

So he kept his voice gentle even as he took a firm grip on his brother’s arm.

“You need to let them do their jobs, Dec.”

The look the officer shot Rogan was grateful.  The look Dec fired his way was not.

“I can’t just stand by and do nothing.  If I’d stopped her from going off with that jerk in the first place, she’d be safe in my room right now.”

“Okay A, you couldn’t have stopped her, because she’s your lover, not your pet.  B, if he hadn’t snagged her when he did, it might have been a hell of a lot easier for him to get away with it.  And C, you charging up here when you can’t even stand upright without bobbing and weaving is doing neither you nor Sadie any good.  You think she’d be appreciative of you doing more damage to yourself by acting crazy?  I know you want to get in there and keep her safe. And I understand better than you can possibly imagine how frustrating it is to have your own injuries holding you back. But this is one instance where the white knight can do a lot more to help the fair maiden by sitting his ass in the wheelchair that the nice EMT has thoughtfully provided.” 

Declan’s eyes bored into his brother’s for a second before flicking back toward the SUV, wherein a madman held the woman he loved.

And then he lowered himself into the chair, resentment crackling around him like electrically charged mist.

But when the EMT tried to wheel him away, Declan snarled a warning that suggested his cooperation was at an end.  Rogan stilled the man’s hands before his brother went totally postal.  “I’ll take over.  Thanks.”

He steered the chair away from the crush, seeking a better vantage point and less people.  He knew Dec needed to be close enough to see what was going on, but figured the wild speculation and crazy commentary from bystanders would only add to his level of stress.  At his best, his twin was short tempered and unpredictable.  Right now he was a grenade missing its pin.  When he blew was just a question of timing.

Declan sat quietly after Rogan parked him, the fine tremors racking his body the only outward sign of distress. But Rogan knew a tsunami of
fear and anger raged inside him.  For several minutes they sat that way, frozen as the chaos particular to law enforcement reigned around them.

Until Declan broke their tense silence with unexpected words. 

“It was you,” he said quietly. Rogan had to bend toward him to hear over the noise.  “Earlier, today, when my pain would… let up, it was because you were taking some of it.  That’s what the worry on Dad’s face was about.”

“I, uh…” Shit.  How had he guessed?  It wasn’t like they had any sort of precedent for this thing.

“Do you remember when we were eight and we got food poisoning from eating those stupid sandwiches we’d left too long in the tree house?  And the mayonnaise had gone bad?”

“We threw up for two
days straight,” Rogan agreed, wondering at the change of topic but willing to play along.  “I haven’t touched mayo since.”

“I didn’t eat mine,” Declan told him.  “I lied, told you I’d done it, but it smelled funny and I didn’t want to.  So I threw it in the creek when you weren’t looking, acted like I’d done it because it was me who issued the dare.  But I threw up anyway.  I hadn’t eaten the dumb sandwich, but I threw up just the same.  I thought it was God’s way of punishing me for goading you into doing something that stupid.”

“You never…”

“Told you?  I know.  I was embarrassed
, because it was weird.  And I didn’t want Mom to kick my ass.”

Rogan had no idea what to say.

But Declan did, surprising him further.

“I don’t know exactly what happened today, and quite frankly I’m too terrified to talk more about it just now.  But I wanted to say thank you.  I wouldn’t have made it out of those woods under my own steam, and I wouldn’t be able to cope with this just now.  Without you.  Being here for me.”  He held up one trembling hand.

Rogan clasped it, his own appendage shaking, and blinked at the tears which stung the back of his eyes.  “You’re welcome,” he said simply, afraid an overflow of speech would break the dam, releasing his sudden flood of emotion.

Which was okay, because as he held onto his brother, he realized their communication went beyond words.

SADIE
watched helplessly while Brady’s fingers flew over his laptop’s keyboard, a frown of concentration on his battered face.  He’d herded them all into the back of the SUV, a tightly bound Rick on one side, her on the other and poor Bainbridge against the door, with himself like a demented monkey in the middle.  She gathered it was to make it difficult for the cops to take a shot at him without risking the other three.  Bainbridge, of course, was beyond help. But Brady hadn’t been very forthcoming about that fact when he’d been talking to Kathleen.  No doubt because he knew that there was little chance in hell of the authorities gathered outside letting a cop-killer get by them.  And the way he was laughing just now she felt pretty certain he’d come up with some kind of plan to do just that.

He glanced up at her in astonishment, the facial swelling from the accident allowing only one of his dark eyebrows to rise.  “Do you have any idea how much Mr. Loafers here is worth?”

He’d been playing around with his laptop for the past fifteen or so minutes, ever since ending his call to Kathleen. Apparently they could now add computer hacking to his list of criminal skills.  Seems he’d once worked as a private investigator, which needless to say was an unsettling thought.  The idea of someone like him having a license to stalk people caused a shiver to roll down her spine. Her shoulders moved in an involuntary jerk. 

Whatever drug he’d injected her with earlier was slowly starting to wear off.

She noted that he actually seemed to be awaiting her response, but all she managed was a furious squint. 

“There’s a cool five hundred grand in this account,” Brady commented, although it was difficult to hear him over the pounding music.  H
e was playing music on Rick’s iPhone so that the cops couldn’t use some high-powered microphone to listen to their conversation.  “And that doesn’t count all the stuff in his portfolio. Or his offshore account.”  He turned slightly toward a cowering Rick.  “It would have gone so much easier for both of us if you’d been honest about those passwords in the first place.  Tsk, tsk,” he added before once again becoming engrossed in the laptop’s screen, missing the malicious glare Rick aimed at his back. 

Sadie tried not to notice the blood running down Rick’s cheek from the slice Brady had calmly inflicted.  When he’d threatened to start on his eyes, Rick had finally given him the correct information.

Sadie’s heart lurched when he looked her way.  The blue eyes staring back held worry, and fear, and underneath it all a hint of accusation.  Neither of them would have been in this mess if she hadn’t left him in the first place. 

She knew it, and so did he.

“Sadie, my lovely, I’m afraid my fine opinion of you may have plummeted.  You gave up all of this to live in a rundown shack and screw a bartender.  She is screwing him,” he said casually to Rick.  “I had some surveillance equipment installed in case she discovered my necklace when I wasn’t there.  Caught it all on camera.  She’s pretty hot in the sack.” 

No.
  Sadie’s eyes widened in horror, the atmosphere in the cramped interior a noxious mix of lascivious amusement emanating from Brady and shock and hurt vibrating off Rick.  If she hadn’t been mostly immobilized, she would have curled into a ball and wretched.  The thought of this… slug watching her and Declan’s most intimate moments was enough to… God.  She didn’t know what she wanted to do first.  Scrub herself all over with bleach, or kill the bastard where he sat.

That same bastard had the nerve to wink.  “I’m sorry you and I won’t be getting the chance to set the sheets aflame, sweet thing, but if it’s any consolation I’m not that pissed about the necklace anymore.  The funds your fiancé – oops!  My bad.  Your ex-fiancé – has so generously allowed me to move into
my
offshore account has more than made up for what I could expect to get from the stones in the necklace.  Fencing that kind of thing is always unpredictable, at best.”  He bathed her in companionable smiles, and Sadie once again longed for disinfectant.  And prayed that whatever Kathleen and company were going to do, they’d go ahead and do it soon.