DrillingDownDeep (24 page)

“What circuit board?”

“Now!” Kohler gestured frantically with the gun, taking care
not to come too close.

Understanding that the best way to help Vanny now was to
lure this madman away from her, he started back to the front hall.

“This way,” Kohler barked at the doorway of the bedroom in
the direction of Michael’s workroom.

“I need my key,” he muttered. When he retrieved it from the
bowl at the door where he’d dropped it, he headed back. “Why didn’t you just
break in? Why wait ’til we’re here?”

Kohler shrugged as Michael unlocked the door. “To tell the
truth, I’m not sure I would recognize what I want when I see it.”

He led him in to the workroom. “So how do you know I won’t
give you the wrong thing now?”

“Because, Mr. Big American, I’m going to take a picture of
it on my phone and send it to somebody in Moscow who will tell me whether
you’ve given me the right thing. And we’re going to wait right here while I
do.”

“What circuit do you want?”

“The one you’re developing to put in a prosthesis.”

Michael didn’t even bother to ask why. He didn’t give a
fuck. He went and got it and handed it to him. He’d figure out how to minimize
the damage later, when Vanny was safe. That was all that mattered to him now.

“Thank you. Now let’s go get your girlfriend.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Go pick her up. Now.”

Trying to gauge whether he could overpower him or not,
Kohler evened the odds and out of nowhere, with no warning, shot him. The pain
coming from his shoulder was excruciating. He nearly fell to his knees with it.
He’d never been shot.

Shit. It hurt.

He took a deep breath, one hand automatically going up to
the bleeding shoulder wound, pressing on it.

“Now go. In front of me. You refuse to do it and you’ll have
a matching shot in the other shoulder.”

At gunpoint, he went back into the bedroom, where Vanny was
still lying motionless.

“Pick her up.”

Oh God, please.

“Come on. I’m not going to hurt her. I just want the two of
you out of my way while I verify you gave me the right thing. I’m going to lock
you in a closet.”

Michael picked Vanny up, a little more difficult when she
was dead weight, oh and he had a gunshot in his shoulder, but he managed and
headed to the walk-in closet.

“Not there.”

The closet Kohler ordered him to in the library was probably
the smallest enclosed space in the whole damn apartment. More of a safe than a
closet, it housed valuables from time to time, though now it had nothing more
than the diamond necklace that Vanny had refused to accept and he had not
gotten around to returning. Just big enough for him and Vanny to stand in, if
she could stand now, but not much bigger than that. And a solid iron door, with
a combination lock. He didn’t bother to lock it half the time and it wasn’t
locked now.

“Get in.”

If they got in there, they were dead. They’d suffocate,
waiting for Kohler to fulfill his empty promise to let them out again. The only
way he was going to let them out was if his Moscow contact told him the circuit
was a dummy.

And it wasn’t. In his zeal to get Kohler the fuck away from
Vanny, he’d given him the real circuit. He saw no reason not to.

Now he realized the error he had made. When it was too late.

Vanny stirred in his arms and Kohler snapped, “Now! Or I’ll
shoot you both right now!”

“All right, I lied. That’s not the right circuit.”

“Or you’re lying now. Just get in there while I check it
out.”

“Let’s go back to my workroom and I’ll get you the real
one.”

Vanny’s green eyes came open slowly, almost sleepily, and
she put her arms around his neck. Her slow smile almost broke his heart. Oh
Christ, he would get them out of this. He would!

Then she opened her mouth. “He’s claustrophobic. He’s afraid
to go in the closet,” she said in a dreamy voice, as she slid down out of his
arms to the sound of Kohler’s laughter.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

And while he was laughing, distracted, she knocked the gun
right out of his hand. It was almost comical the look of shock on Kohler’s face
as he lunged for the gun and, without a second thought, Michael lunged for him.
Furious, angry, with more hatred than he thought he had in him, he wrestled
Kohler to the ground, sitting on him and then pummeling his face repeatedly
with his good arm, the one that wasn’t bleeding profusely.

By the time he took a breath, he felt a gentle hand on his
shoulder. “He’s out now, Michael.” Vanny had the gun in her hand and was
leaning over his shoulder just as he recognized what sounded like the front
door being blasted open. Through the haze of what he realized must be blood
loss, a bunch of policemen and one of the FBI agents he recognized from the
other night, not Carter, were suddenly there, cuffing the still-knocked-out
Kohler and helping him and Vanny up.

“We need an ambulance,” Vanny said and he grinned at her.
And then he was out.

By the time he woke up in the hospital, his shoulder was
bandaged and there was an intravenous tube in his arm and an anxious Vanny at
his bedside.

“Hey,” she said when he opened his eyes. “My hero.”

He laughed, his throat feeling scratchy. “I think I’m
supposed to say that to you. You’re the one who thought of the claustrophobia
thing to distract him.”

“Me?” He realized her eyes were reddened and her hair a wild
mass of curls and she was still in the robe he’d found her in, though her
forehead was bandaged. And she looked unbelievably incredibly beautiful. More
beautiful than he’d ever seen her. “I was just making fun of you. But I’m glad
it worked out that way.”

“That’s my girl.”

“I love you, Michael. I’m sorry, but it’s there. It just is.
I know I’m violating some mistress ground rule or something.” He saw a single
tear roll down her cheek and he put his finger to it.

“You’re not my mistress, remember? You’re my consultant.”

She laughed. “Then I’m probably breaking an even bigger
rule.”

“I love you too. And saying that breaks a rule of a
lifetime. Believe me. But I do.”

She kissed him. “Okay. Then it’s all right now.”

“Not so fast,” he whispered. “It’s not all right until we
get married.”

“Oh Michael, you’re delusional.”

“Why? Because I’m too old for you?”

“Bullshit. If anything, you’re too rich for me.”

“I don’t believe that’s ever been a disqualifier before.”

“Let’s talk about this when you’re yourself again. Or at the
very least when you’re off painkillers. Your whole family is out there, or at
least most of them. Even that one I didn’t manage to meet at the party for some
reason. Evan. And Miss Prentiss too. I think she likes you more than you ever
thought. But I’m not sure she likes your brother for some reason.”

“Is Vik out there?”

“Yes. Vik and Samantha flew back from London right away. It
was Vik who sent the police over to the apartment. His friend, that Agent
Carter, got word that Kohler had boarded a plane to New York. When Vik tried to
call you back to warn you just in case and couldn’t get you, he sent the cops
over. They found the guard dead, hidden in the back room, and knew Kohler was
there.”

“Thank God.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, his good shoulder.
“Though you’d already rescued us.”

“Of course I did. I wasn’t going into that closet. I have a
phobia, remember?”

“I remember. Good thing too.”

And then they kissed.

“You’re something more than my mistress, Vanny. You’re my
last
mistress. My very last one. I swear.”

She smiled.

Hell, he’d be writing greeting cards before long.

He pulled her close. And he was glad of it too.

* * * * *

Evan had been trying to get the tall brunette alone since he’d
gotten to the hospital. Now that they all knew Michael would be all right, he
had a thing or two to say to Michael’s secretary, who was cool and put together
once again, this time in a camel-colored skirt and plain tan sweater, her hair
in that same tidy chignon.

He finally caught her by herself near the candy machine, out
of the way of the rest of his family.

“Remember me?”

She looked up, the big blue eyes wide and innocent.
“Certainly, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Don’t you ‘Mr. Reynolds’ me. What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“At my father’s party. You…we…”

“We had sex, Mr. Reynolds.” She laughed. “My, I certainly
never thought I’d say that.”

“God, I hope not. You’re not Michael’s, are you? Because
from what I can see of that Vanny, she’ll give you a fight to the death on that
one.” He didn’t really think it, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it,
if only to insult her.

Her voice was cooler. “I’m not ‘anybody’s’, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Evan,” he snapped.

“Evan.” There was a long pause, with neither of them
speaking. She finally asked, “Is there something I can do for you,
Evan
?”

“As a matter of fact,
Miss Prentiss
, there is. You
can fuck me again.”

A long pause, then, “Where?”

Angela Claire’s first love was romance novels, but she
resolved to give them up temporarily for law books (which were considerably
less fun). In a quest for a “responsible” career, she headed off to Harvard law
school, obtained her diploma and settled into a corporate law practice in New
York City—which she hated! After staying in the rat race long enough to pay
back her massive student loans, Angela returned to her roots in the Midwest and
is working as a lawyer at a more leisurely pace than big city law firm life
would allow. A multi-published romance author, she writes in her spare time and
finds romance in real life with her husband. Angela would love to hear from
you.

Angela welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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Drilling Down Deep

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Drilling Down Deep Copyright © 2013 Angela Claire

Edited by Shannon Combs

Cover design and photography by Syneca

Additional cover photography by Juice Team/Shutterstock.com

Model: David

Electronic book publication April 2013

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