Power Play Page 28

  Chapter Eighteen

  I didn’t do anything for a few precious seconds; then I did the only thing I could think of. I turned and ran.

  “Oh my God, he’s here!” I said into my phone.

  The silver sandals weren’t made for running and I stopped to toe them off, glancing behind me to see that the guy was crossing the street at a jog, dodging traffic. I started running again, frantically looking for someplace safe, but where was there to go? Apartment buildings had codes and locks—I couldn’t just walk in one.

  I looked behind me again and saw he was gaining.

  My heart was beating so hard, it felt as though it would leap from my chest. Ice-cold adrenaline made my limbs feel weird and unsteady. I looked in the street, searching for cars. Surely someone would stop for me if I ran into the street, right? But this was Chicago. I didn’t know if anyone would stop to help a stranger.

  But what choice did I have?

  Running several feet into the avenue, I waved frantically at cars.

  “Stop! Please stop! Help me!”

  But my shouts went unheeded, one car swerving around me and another angrily honking their horn.

  I looked around. The assassin was closing in, now only yards away.

  Desperation made me turn back to the cars just to see one screech to a halt in front of me. Relief turned to horror as the back door flew open and Viktor stepped out.

  “Just the woman I was looking for,” he said.

  I took a step back, but he grabbed my arm, pried the phone from my fingers, and shoved me into the backseat of the car.

  Scrambling across the seat, my hand was on the latch of the opposite door when Viktor grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me back.

  I cried out in pain and heard the slam of the car door; then we were speeding down the street.

  “Hold still,” he said, and I heard the rack of a slide on an automatic. A man in the front passenger seat was pointing a gun at me while another man drove. The gun was very steady in his grip, despite the speed of the car. I held still.

  Viktor grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back. He wrapped a plastic zip tie around my wrists, which he drew painfully tight. Then he leaned down and did the same thing to my ankles.

  “I presume you have your boss on speed dial,” he mused, sitting back up and scrolling through my phone. He pushed the button, ending the call with Ryker’s voice mail, then hit another button and put the call on speaker.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Shut up.”

  The cold distance in the way he said that made me even more terrified. I knew Viktor saw women as utterly disposable. Look what he’d done to Tania and he’d professed to “needing” her. Why he’d come after me was a complete mystery, not that I cared much at the moment. I just wanted to escape.

  The phone rang twice; then I heard Parker say my name.

  “Sage, are you all right?”

  “She is at the moment but I can promise you that won’t be the case for long,” Viktor said. “I know what you did, Mr. Anderson, and if you don’t find a way to undo it, Sage will pay very dearly indeed.”

  Done? What had he done?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Viktor,” Parker said. “We did the deal just how you wanted.”

  Viktor’s hand lashed out, slapping me hard. I yelped at the pain, tears springing to my eyes. And my bruises had been just about gone, too.

  “For every lie, I’ll hurt her,” Viktor said, his voice as calm as though he were ordering dinner in a fancy restaurant. “Your choice whether or not Sage survives the next few minutes.”

  “Tell me what you want, Viktor,” Parker said, his voice icy but edged with panic. “There’s no need to hurt the woman. We’re both businessmen.”

  “You’re not. You’re a spy and you’ve exposed my accounts to your government.”

  “That’s not true—”

  Another loud slap that cut Parker off mid-sentence echoed in the car. I couldn’t help another cry of pain, my jaw and cheek burning.

  “I’ll do what you want, Viktor, just stop!” Parker’s anxious voice emanated from the phone.

  “Delete those trades and move those accounts back under the corporations that hedged them,” Viktor said.

  “I need time to do that,” Parker said.

  “You don’t have time,” Viktor replied. “At least, not if you want Sage to remain alive. I imagine it’s hard to swim with your arms and legs bound.”

  Oh God.

  “All right! Okay, I’ll do it,” Parker shouted.

  “That’s better, but let’s make sure you have some incentive.”

  Viktor reached toward the front and the guy holding the gun passed him something plastic. By the time I realized it was a plastic bag, it was too late. He grabbed my head and pulled the bag over my head. I tried twisting my head away, but he pulled the bag tight around my neck, cutting into my throat.

  “Do you want to know what I’m doing while you’re fixing my accounts?” Viktor asked. “I have a plastic bag over her head, Mr. Anderson. She’ll run out of air very quickly. It takes approximately six minutes, thereabouts, for a person to be brain dead from lack of oxygen. Add another couple of minutes just to be on the safe side. Shall we use her as a timer for you?”

  “Sage!”

  “My associate is waiting for confirmation, Mr. Anderson,” Viktor said calmly, glancing in the front seat. “I suggest you move quickly. Sage is turning a bit blue, though it’s hard to tell through the plastic.”

  I squirmed harder, trying to get away, but my strength was no match for his and the plastic pulled tight over my nose and mouth. I couldn’t see, everything was blurred, and I ceased being able to make out the conversation between Viktor and Parker.

  I fought it, the zip ties cutting into my wrists as I tried in vain to free my arms. Panic made me suck in more air, but there was none to be had, just the slippery plastic in my mouth. I was crying and trying to breathe and I realized…I was going to die, and my death would be horrible. Terror clawed at me and I was in pain, in a car with a sociopath who planned on dropping my body in Lake Michigan.

  My lungs were starved for air and blackness edged my vision. I couldn’t fight anymore, my limbs going slack even as my mind was still in a panic, urging my body to move. But it was useless.

  A resounding crash sent the car hurtling sideways. My body slammed against the passenger door, causing Viktor to lose his grip on the bag and air leaked in. I took a breath. Not enough with the plastic still sticking to my tear- and sweat-soaked face, but it helped.

  Gunshots sounded, but I couldn’t tell anything that was going on. My door was yanked open and I nearly fell out of the car, which would’ve really hurt since I couldn’t cushion my fall. But someone grabbed me, hauling me up into their arms.

  I heard voices, shouting, as I was carried to another vehicle and put in it, the man who’d caught me climbing in after me.

  “I’ve got her!”

  “They’re coming!”

  “Go! Go!”

  A squeal of tires and more gunshots, then we were flying down the road. The bag was ripped off my face and I sucked in a lungful of oxygen, the sweet chill of fresh air against my face causing a flood of relief.

  “Sage, oh my God, Sage…”

  Shocked at the sound of his voice, I turned to see Parker sitting next to me. His hands were busy pushing my hair back from where strands were stuck to my face and in my mouth.

  I couldn’t talk—I was still breathing too hard for that—but it didn’t seem to matter. He quickly pulled a switchblade from his pocket and cut the ties from my wrists and ankles. The hard plastic had bit into my skin, leaving bloody abrasions behind, but I didn’t care. I was just relieved to be alive.

  Once I was free, I flung myself at Parker, wrapping my arms so tight around his neck, I was sure I was close to strangling him. But if I was, he didn’t seem to mind. His arms were just as tight around me as I scrambled ont
o his lap, anxious to be as close to him as humanly possible.

  “Sage, Sage, Sage,” he whispered, repeating my name over and over.

  I was crying, sobbing uncontrollably. I’d been so close to dying, just minutes away, and that wasn’t something you just walked away from.

  “I think we’re in the clear,” someone said from the front seat.

  Parker was smoothing my hair as he held me. I didn’t care where we were going or what we were doing, just so long as he held on to me.

  “Does she need medical care?” the voice asked from the front.

  “Sage.” Parker’s voice was soft in my ear.

  My tears had abated, but I still trembled in the aftermath of my ordeal. His collar where I’d pressed my face was damp and I could smell the scent of his skin. It was familiar and comforting to me—I felt safe.

  “Baby, look at me.”

  Parker’s hand was exceedingly gentle on my chin, turning my face up to his. My eyes were closed, but I heard him suck in a sharp breath.

  “Tell me if you’re hurt anywhere,” he said. “Please tell me.”

  I pried open my burning eyes and looked at him, gave a minute shake of my head.

  “I think she’s okay,” Parker said, loud enough for the guy in front to hear.

  I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of the man in the front passenger seat. He was looking at me and my body went rigid with fear. It was the assassin.

  “Sage, shh, it’s okay,” Parker soothed. “He’s on our side. I promise.”

  My nails were digging into Parker’s chest, my eyes still glued on the man.

  “Trust me,” Parker said, prying one of my hands from where it clutched his shirt. He laid my palm flat against his cheek. I cautiously turned back to see him watching me. When our eyes met, he pressed his lips into my palm.

  The car pulled to a stop. I didn’t ask where we were or what we were doing. My mind had stopped processing anything. I felt numb. My only thought was that I had to cling to Parker, that I’d be safe with him.

  I didn’t speak as he helped me out of the car. He turned to the men in front.

  “Men are watching?” he asked.

  The assassin answered. “Yeah. No one’s going to get through. Not tonight.”

  Parker nodded and took a step back. That was when I noticed the front end was all dented up. Then the car drove away and we walked into the lobby, the concrete rough against my bare feet, and I recognized his apartment building. His arm was around me, supporting my weight as I leaned on him, my head against his chest. The doorman didn’t ask any questions, just hurried to get the elevator for us.

  A couple of minutes later, Parker was unlocking his door and leading me into his apartment. Tossing his keys on the counter, he took my hand and led me into his bedroom.

  “Lie down,” he said, easing me onto the bed.

  I didn’t argue.

  He disappeared into the bathroom and I heard the water running. The pillow under my head smelled like him.

  When he returned, he had a washcloth and a first aid kit. He didn’t speak as he pressed the warm cloth to my face, his touch on my bruised cheek exceedingly gentle. After he’d washed away the tear tracks and blood that had seeped from my mouth, he left and wet the cloth again. This time he carefully cleaned the wounds around my wrists and ankles, then began rubbing antibiotic cream into the marks.

  My brain was processing things again, the numbness evaporating as the minutes ticked by. When Parker was finishing with my ankles, I opened my mouth and asked, “How did you find me?”

  “I was with Sasha,” he said, “at your apartment, waiting for you.”

  “Who’s Sasha?”

  “The guy that was in the front,” he replied. “The one who scared you.”

  “Of course he scared me. He’s an assassin for Viktor.”

  Parker looked up from my leg at that. “Not really. He’s actually a CIA agent.”

  My eyes widened. “What?”

  “The CIA contacted me after Hinton was killed. They’d been following Bank ZNT and Viktor, knew what they were trying to do. They wanted me to help.”

  I was confused. “Wait…the CIA wanted your help? Why would they need your help? They’re the CIA, for God’s sake.”

  “Yes, but the accounts held by ZNT were beyond their reach. The public sale of shares gave them an avenue where they could freeze all the US-held assets of ZNT, which totaled over fifty billion dollars.”

  I stared at him. “So you were doing this…working for the CIA…the entire time?”

  He nodded, putting my ankle down and reaching for my wrist. Squeezing more ointment out, he began slowly rubbing it in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “No one could know. Plus, I was under the apparently mistaken belief that not telling you would keep you safe,” he answered. “If they knew I was working for the CIA, they’d have killed me and anyone else associated with me.” He looked up then and our gazes collided. “What I didn’t count on was Viktor seeing how much I care about you, and him using that against me.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Parker had been transparent about keeping me safe, but those words—how much I care about you—seemed laden with meaning that was more than his instinctual protectiveness. I didn’t want to dare hope that he meant more. He’d disappointed me twice already. I couldn’t handle a third time. Not tonight.

  Finishing with one wrist, he laid it down and picked up my other, beginning the process again.

  “I can do that,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about him taking care of me in such an intimate way. I tried to tug my arm away, but he tightened his hold.

  “Let me,” he said. “I want to. Or need to, I should say.”

  Silence reigned for a few moments as he worked assiduously on my wounds.

  “Why were you at my apartment?” I asked.

  “I had a gut feeling he might go after you,” he said. “Sasha was keeping a lookout. I was going to talk to you inside, away from prying eyes and ears. I didn’t realize you knew Sasha’s undercover identity and would run when you saw him.” His face hardened. “I’m guessing Ryker told you that.”

  Ryker.

  “I need to call him,” I said, sitting up. “Viktor hung up on his voice mail when he grabbed me. He’s probably worried.”

  “Relax,” Parker said, gently pushing me back down onto the bed. “Let’s take care of you first; then we’ll worry about Ryker.” Getting up, he went to the closet, returning with a faded T-shirt with the word “Marines” emblazoned across the front.

  “I don’t have any women’s clothing,” he said, “but you can wear this if you’d like to change.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I took the shirt, then looked expectantly at him. He’d seen me naked before, but it was different now, and not just because I was sober.

  “Oh. Sorry,” he said after a moment, seemingly just realizing why I was waiting. “I’ll just give you some privacy.”

  He turned and left the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

  I was glad to get rid of the dress, and after a brief hesitation, shucked my bra, too. I wanted to be comfortable and curl up in Parker’s bed, under his sheets, and go to sleep.

  Grabbing my phone, I dialed Ryker, but it went to voice mail immediately.

  “Hey,” I said. “It’s Sage. I’m so sorry for the voice mail earlier. Something…bad…happened.” An understatement. “But I’m fine now, so just call me, I guess, when you get this, okay? Bye.”

  Going into the bathroom, I found a brush and ran it through my hair. My face had seen better days. Viktor had split my lip and there was a cut on my swollen cheekbone. Nice.

  I heard a noise and frowned, putting down the brush. Coming out of the bathroom, I heard voices shouting.

  Panic flooded me and I wanted to hide, but Parker was out there…alone.

  But I had no weapon, nothing to help him with. I glanced frantically around the bedroom, but before I could de
cide what to do, the door was suddenly flung open.

  I screamed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My scream was abruptly cut off when I saw Ryker standing there, gun in hand.

  “Holy shit!” I exploded. “I thought you were…you were…” But I couldn’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed by the relief that had so quickly followed the sheer terror.

  Ryker was by me in an instant, his arms around me. “God, Sage, I thought you were dead,” he rasped, his voice in my ear.

  I couldn’t talk yet, not past the huge lump in my throat, so I just nodded.

  “It’s okay now. We’ve got him.”

  That got my tongue going pretty darn quick. “What do you mean you’ve got him?” I asked, taking a step back.

  “Parker,” Ryker clarified. “We can’t charge him with conspiracy or racketeering, but we still have Niki with his business card. An arrest on suspicion of murder will have to do.”

  “Murder!” I exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind? He didn’t kill Niki.”

  Ryker’s face was hard. “You’re still defending him? You were nearly killed tonight! Street surveillance video shows you being shoved into a car that was later involved in an accident. Two men killed, shot to death.”

  “Ryker, we’re heading downtown to book him.” The voice came from Parker’s living room.

  I shoved past Ryker and saw Parker, handcuffed and flanked by two uniformed cops. Our eyes met and I saw his gaze flick downward over the T-shirt I wore. His lips twisted in a tiny, satisfied smile; then it was gone.

  “Ryker, you can’t do this!” I implored, but he ignored me.

  “Did you read him his rights?”

  I rushed to Parker. “What’s going to happen?” I asked him, eyeing the cops.

  “Don’t worry. Stay here. It’ll be all right,” he assured me.

  I hated seeing him that way, with his arms cuffed behind his back, but he didn’t seem fazed. He just watched me.

  “Go on ahead. I’ll follow in a few minutes,” Ryker told the cops.

  I watched in dismay as the two men led Parker out the door; then I turned on Ryker.

  “You know he didn’t do it,” I spat. “This is just you being vindictive.”