On reflex, Zack glanced down at himself as his captor parted the shirt, pushed the loose flaps back and over his shoulders. A line of crimson slashed his belly and he watched the liquid bead in numb fascination. The tip of the knife was so sharp, he hadn’t felt the cut, which was just beginning to sting.
Shallow. He’d seen much worse on stabbing victims before. No big deal, nothing more than a head game his tormentor was employing to get off.
Except the bastard was just getting warmed up.
Lionel placed the razor-sharp blade behind Zack’s ear, ran it along the vulnerable skin in an arc to his throat. There was no pain as the wet warmth trickled down his neck, his chest. The sting came after, but he ignored it. Kept his expression impassive, eyes locked on his tormentor’s, unwavering.
“Log in to your account,” Lionel said softly to Cori, not taking his gaze from Zack’s.
“No, beautiful. Don’t.”
The knife skimmed to his chest. Made another cut, across one pectoral. Then the other. Blood ran, and Cori stifled a low sob.
“Please, stop,” she pleaded. “I’ll try to log in.”
This got Lionel’s attention, and he glared at her over his shoulder. “Try? What the fuck does that mean?”
“I—I have to remember my account number. It’s really long and I’m n-not sure if I’ve got it right.”
That’s my girl.
Zack knew her voice by now, heard the false conciliatory tone she was using to appease him. She was lying to stall him, buy them time.
Staring past Lionel, he met her solemn gaze, saw the flash of mutiny their kidnapper missed. She turned to the keyboard and he silently cheered her on, sent her love he hoped she could feel wrapping around her.
Her fingers clicked on the keys. Hesitated, backspaced. Continued, filling in a series of letters and numbers on two lines. Hit Enter.
Access Denied.
“Try again, dammit.”
Casting a furtive glance over her shoulder at Lionel, she started over. Every now and then, she paused. Pretended to think hard about which combination to use. Entered.
Access Denied.
“I’m trying! I’ll get it right!”
“You’d better,” he hissed.
With the third failed attempt, she and Zack knew he’d been pushed too far.
“You slut,” he snarled, jerking her chin up. “I’ll show you the consequences of fucking with me.”
Striding to the fireplace, he laid the knife on the mantel. Slid a heavy iron poker from its stand. His gaze fell on Zack and an evil smile curved his lips.
“No,” she whispered. “Please, I remember now. I’ll log in and—”
“Let this be a lesson to ensure you’ll think twice before yanking my chain.”
Fear stole Zack’s speech. His body went cold and he could do nothing. Say nothing as the man came to stand in front of him, the iron rod hanging loosely at his side.
“I’m going to break you apart,” the monster said, matter-of-fact.
Ah, shit.
Then he swung the poker like a batter hitting a home run out of the park. Zack’s side exploded in white-hot agony.
“Ahhhh!” His yell mingled with Cori’s scream. With the rushing noise in his ears.
He swore he felt the ribs shatter. Actually rip from their moorings to do untold internal damage. He struggled to draw breath, to—
A second blow sent his stomach into his backbone. The pain was unbearable, like nothing he’d ever been dealt. He hung his head and retched, then began coughing. Harsh, gasping, an ominous rattle in his chest. The flecks of crimson came next, splattering his jeans.
Coughing up blood. Bad, very bad.
The clock was ticking now, winding down.
Think of something, anything. Or you’re a dead man.
Vaguely, he became aware of Cori sobbing. Begging for Lionel to stop. The poker landed on the floor, discarded.
“You’re done fucking with me, I assume?”
“Y-yes. I swear. I know how to log in.”
“Get started, or your boyfriend won’t survive the next round.”
More clicking. A satisfied grunt from Lionel. Zack raised his head, tried hard to focus his swimming vision. A page was up on the laptop screen, though he couldn’t read the information from here.
“Now what?” Lionel demanded, waving a hand at the screen.
Cori worked for a few minutes, clicking on icons and typing in what Zack assumed to be a transfer request. Finally, she shook her head and sniffed, wiping her face.
“It’s blocking me. I can’t transfer that kind of money online, and my rep won’t be in now. It’s evening overseas.” Cori looked up at Lionel, halting his tirade before he started.
“But I know who
can
get us in.”
“You’d better know, because I don’t have goddamned time for this!”
Cori shot Zack a meaningful look, and his admiration for her grew tenfold, if that were possible. He smiled at her through the agony clawing at his body, and nodded.
“Zack can do it. He has a genius IQ, and he’s a skilled hacker.”
Lionel shifted his stance, obviously not certain whether to be relieved or pissed. “And you’re imparting this news
now
? Why should I believe you?”
Cori shrugged. “Whether you do or not is up to you. But Zack told me he once hacked the FBI’s classified files—at age twelve. If anyone can make you a rich man in a short period of time, he can.”
Lionel fell silent, debating. Zack watched him sift through his options, knowing what he’d decide. What choice did the man have?
“All right,” he snapped at Zack. “I’ll let you up. You sit in her place and get the job done, or I cut her throat.”
Their captor retrieved the knife from the fireplace mantel, then went to Zack and sliced his bonds. Freed his wrists, then his ankles. Zack rubbed his hands and arms, sore and tingling from lack of circulation.
He stood slowly, unsteady on his feet. Racked by pain, he stumbled to the chair and lowered himself into it. Hunched over the keyboard, buffered by Cori’s presence at his side.
Placing his fingers on the keys, he called upon skills he hadn’t utilized in years. The part of himself he’d left behind long ago in favor of his dreams.
He’d wanted only to live an ordinary life.
Now he was being forced to perform an extraordinary act.
And he had a plan.
Zack sent a prayer heavenward that he and Cori would survive once Lionel discovered exactly what he’d done with fifty million dollars.
19
Minutes became a half hour. An hour? He didn’t know.
Sweat rolled down Zack’s face. Dizziness swamped his brain, and fatigue weakened his limbs. As he was immersed in code encryption, time ceased to have meaning. In the periphery, he was aware of Cori sitting on the floor by his feet. Lionel had finally given up and dragged over a kitchen chair to sit just behind his right shoulder.
Little else registered. Especially when he cracked the first level of the security system, and received clearance to proceed.
“I’ll be goddamned,” their captor blurted.
Zack didn’t answer. His sights were set on his goal, and nothing would stop him.
Jesus, he was chilled. Not good. He needed to get to an emergency room, which wasn’t happening in the foreseeable future.
Maybe not until it was too late.
He blocked thoughts of bleeding to death internally and redoubled his efforts. Patterns and combinations. Nothing to it, just like a mouse running through a maze to get to the cheese.
Another level. Lionel swore again, impressed.
You think that was cool, fuckhead? Wait for it.
So close. He had to concentrate not to pass out. What he’d give to lie down on the floor and sleep forever. His fingers flew, the numbers flashing across the screen in a blur.
And then he was in. For a few seconds he sat staring at the screen, almost unable to comprehend.
“Sonofabitch,” Lionel breathed. “You did it.”
Cori pushed to her feet, laid a hand on Zack’s left shoulder, the chain attached to her wrist jingling.
“Yeah,” Zack replied, wiping sweat from his eyes. His hands shook. “I need your account number and password.”
The man slid a scrap of paper onto the desk next to his right arm.
Here we go.
Pretending to read the information Lionel provided, he began to type in a series of letters and numbers. Fast. One line, then the other. Praying as he’d never done before that the bastard didn’t note the discrepancy.
His fingers hovered over the Enter key.
A king’s ransom, one keystroke from cyber oblivion.
He depressed the key, and sat back in the chair.
Transaction Complete.
Lionel whooped, shooting from his seat. Danced around the living room, spiked an imaginary football.
Zack stared at the screen, exhausted. Cori squeezed his shoulder, lending her support even if she wasn’t quite sure what he’d done or how they’d get out of this alive.
Zack’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Hide-and-seek,” he rasped, breath rattling in his chest.
“Oh, my God,” Cori said, stunned.
Lionel’s victory dance came to an abrupt halt. “What’d you say?” Spinning, he grabbed the knife and stalked to Zack, hauled him out of the chair by his arm.
Fine by him. He’d just as soon be standing for what came next. “Hide-and-seek, the extreme version. I just hid fifty million dollars somewhere in cyberspace, and I’m the only one who knows where.” He laughed at the man’s poleaxed expression, coughed up more blood. Zack almost felt sorry for the poor fuck.
Almost.
He couldn’t resist the coup de grâce. “If you live to be a hundred, you’ll never find the money. Never fuck with a geek, asshole.”
A roar of rage erupted from Lionel and he launched himself at Zack, swinging the knife. Out for blood.
“Look out!” Cori yelled.
Zack grabbed his arm, but the other man had the advantage and they bounced off the desk, crashed to the floor. They rolled, each delivering kicks and punches, each struggling to gain control of the knife. A glint of metal shone on the floor nearby, and he realized his nemesis had lost the gun. Probably fell from the waistband of his pants.
The weapon wouldn’t do Zack any good lying several feet away. He had to wrest the knife from Lionel.
The front door splintered, louder than a shotgun blast, banging against the inside wall. Rolling with Lionel, punching the man in the gut with his free hand, he glanced up to see three dark-haired men rush into the house, guns drawn.
Cori’s brothers.
And then she was screaming because, God help them, the third brother had the one in the lead dead in his sights. Preparing to gun down his own brother.
“Joaquin, behind you! Rafael, noo!” Cori clasped her hands over her ears.
Joaquin spun as Rafael’s bullet took him in the shoulder. He went down shooting, his handsome face a grimace of anguish.
Christ! Zack’s attention strayed to Cori’s wide, beautiful eyes. Her grief was a mirror of Joaquin’s as she twisted in her cuff, desperate to be free.
It was the split second of distraction that cost Zack.
Lionel wrenched his wrist from Zack’s hold and plunged the blade between his ribs. “That’s right. Die,” he gloated. “Go to hell thinking about your bitch’s legs open for me.”
Pain washed over him. Tired. Oh, God.
Then he saw Cori straining to get to him, fighting off her remaining brother, even though he was trying to unlock her cuff. Tears streamed down her face.
She’d endured too much. Lost too much.
Exhaustion was swept aside in a red haze of rage. Strength born of vengeance flooded every cell in his body. Lionel drew back his arm to deliver another strike with the knife.
The sonofabitch never got the chance. Heaving with his lower body, Zack flipped and rolled them both. Caught Lionel’s wrist and slammed it to the floor until he heard bone crack. The man howled and the knife fell useless to the floor.
Zack knocked it aside and something inside him snapped. Broke, like a dry twig. Poison flooded his soul and he poured all his hatred into his fists.
Done. He was done being the fucking whipping boy. The victim. Nobody would mess with him or his woman again. Ever.
He was a machine. The satisfying crunch of bone met his fist. Over and over. He existed to deliver justice for every wrong he’d suffered. For every time he’d had to scrape himself off the floor. For every person a dirtbag like this one had beaten down.
“You thought you’d take Cori’s money?”