Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 (15 page)

But why?

There was a sickening lump in her throat, and she felt a nauseous rumble in her stomach. Her head began to throb, and a grainy sensation assaulted her eyes.

Dear God, her benumbed brain struggled to scream, what was wrong with her? She felt so weak…so sick.

Yet, despite everything she was feeling, she was strangely overwhelmed with the instinct to make no move, make no sound. With the primal perception of an animal of the wild, something told her that she was in danger, that whoever, or whatever, was responsible for her helpless state was nearby.

And slowly through the thick maze, it all came back to her.

She has fallen asleep in Jade’s bed and could remember being awakened by the terrifying feeling of something being pressed over her face, suffocating her. Then there was nothing.

Till now.

She was aware of lying on her side, on some kind of bedding that was lumpy and uncomfortable. She could smell something like hay, heard a soft mooing sound, like that of a cow, from somewhere not too distant. Was she in a barn?

She was assailed by new terror to realize her wrists were bound, as well as her ankles. Oh, who would have done such a thing? she raged furiously within.

And
why
?

Certainly not Rudolf. If it were his idea of a prank, surely he would realize she’d never forgive him.

Then slowly, as insidiously as a spider stalking prey, the dread awareness came to her.

She had been in Jade’s bed.

No doubt the kidnappers, if that was what they were, thought
she
was Jade, which assailed her with yet another needling question; if that were so, why would anyone want to abduct her aunt?

It hit her like a rock right between the eyes.

Ransom!

Of course.

So now Jade was on her way home to Spain, without a worry in the world, while
she
was trussed up like a calf in some dusty old barn somewhere, with a maniac who believed she was somebody else.

In a hysterical sort of way, Marilee thought it was funny and looked forward to the time when her cap tor removed the bag over her head and realized he’d made a terrible mistake. True, he could probably hold her for ransom instead, and the Coltranes would, no doubt, pay it, but fear arose when she contemplated that whoever was responsible might decide she just wasn’t worth it and dispose of her without even asking for ransom.

Though she had no idea how much time had elapsed since her disappearance, she was sure it had to have been hours, and when morning came, Rudolf would discover her missing. And wouldn’t there have been a ransom note left somewhere? He would realize what had happened, how a mistake had been made, surely call the police and inform them of the entire nightmare. Perhaps her abductors would think it best just to let her go. After all, her face was covered, and she had seen nothing, heard nothing. With heart tremulously pounding, she knew it was up to her to save herself by protesting if they started to remove the bag, telling them she was keeping her eyes shut, because she did not want to be able to identify any of them, so they could just let her go and they could all pretend it never happened.

That was her only hope, and she clung to it tenaciously in the dark, emptiness of her shrouded existence.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Marilee heard the scrape of a door opening. She tensed, willed herself not to move, breathing slowly, evenly, pretending to still be sleeping—though every nerve in her body was raw with panic.

Someone was walking toward her with heavy footsteps, and she was aware of a presence leaning over her. Then a slightly guttural masculine voice declared, “She’s still out,” adding with a note of concern, “I hope you know what you were doing. Should the chloroform affect her so long?”

“She’ll be fine. The longer she’s out, the better.” Marilee noted the voice of the second man did not sound quite so crude as the first. He sounded younger, yet stronger somehow, and his German accent was quite pronounced.

“What about the ransom note?” the voice she preferred asked.

“Just like we planned,” came the reply. “Gerda left it on the counter when the desk clerk’s back was turned, just after midnight. He never saw her, but she said she peeked through the door after she ran out and saw him looking at it, so no doubt the princess’ bodyguard got it when he came down for breakfast. By now he’s probably on his way, unless he panicked and ran to the police with it.”

“He won’t. I made it clear what would happen if he did.”

Marilee could not control the tremor that went through her, hoped they did not notice, then nearly choked in fright when she realized one of them had.

“Hey, she moved.” The guttural voice spoke.

“She’s cold. Get another blanket.”

“Is this the best place to keep her? So close to town? Hell, it’s just a barn and cold and drafty. We don’t want her getting sick on us.”

“We’re fine for a while.”

“Well, just make sure you keep that pillowcase over her head because I don’t want her to ever be able to identify
my
face.”

“Don’t worry.”

Marilee was gritting her teeth together so tightly her jaws ached, for she was trying to suppress the constant tremors within that threatened to erupt from head to toe. Then they would surely know she was awake, and listening, and scared out of her wits.

The buzzing and ringing in her ears had lessened as the chloroform continued to wear itself out of her system, and she was able to begin to clearly rationalize what had taken place. These…these fiends were not common criminals. They were spies of some sort. But how had they known Jade was even visiting in Zurich, much less who she was and how much she was worth?

The two men seemed to have busied themselves for the time being. When she could make out the sound of liquid pouring, the tinkle of glasses, she knew they were drinking something, and probably not
coffee
,
she wryly mused. She only prayed they would stay sober, lest her plight become even more precarious. Surely it was early, she tried to comfort herself, and they would not be drinking so early in the day, and— A loud roar permeated the silence at the same time she heard what sounded like angry fists pounding against a door. Hysterical shrieks followed the growling shouts. “You goddamn fools! You goddamn, stupid, blundering fools! Let me in, damn you all to hell—”

Chairs turned over, glass broke in the scramble of sounds to open the door.

Curses.

More yelling.

Marilee could no longer control her shivers, knew there was no need to even try.

She had recognized the voice, knew who it was beating on the door before they even let him in, and her cinnamon eyes glazed over with the burnt umber of raw, murderous rage as she glared into the face of the man who roughly yanked the pillowcase off her head.

“You got the wrong one, you bastards!” Rudolf yelled, instinctively flinching when he met her fiery gaze. “Dear God!”

Without saying a word, Hanisch walked over and hit Rudolf in the mouth with his fist, sending him reeling backward in a spurt of blood from a split lip.

Able to at last see her surroundings, Marilee whipped her head about to realize she was actually in a barn, and the cot on which she was lying was positioned in the middle, with crude wooden stalls surrounding it.

She watched, wide-eyed, as Rudolf fell back against one of the stall gates, then pitched forward, facedown, into the straw scattered about the floor.

She recognized the man who had hit Rudolf—the chauffeur! He was the one with the gravelly voice.

He walked over to grab Rudolf by his shirt and roughly yank him to his feet. Then he jammed him back into the railing, holding his fist in front of his face, ready to strike him again. “Don’t come in here cursing us for your mistakes, you son of a bitch! How the hell were we to know? She was in the Romanov bitch’s bed! And if you hadn’t shot off your goddamn mouth just now, she wouldn’t have seen us, wouldn’t know us!”

He had started to hit him again, and Marilee watched, mesmerized by all that was taking place, as the other man stepped forward to grab his arm and impassively say, “That’s enough. Both of you.”

Hanisch let him go, and Rudolf quickly moved out of his reach—but felt drawn to Merilee’s fiery glare.

She could remain silent no longer. “You bastard!” she hissed. “You were behind it all, weren’t you? You planned this the whole time, didn’t you?”

He stood on uncertain legs, ignoring the blood that trickled down his chin. “That’s right. I made a mistake, but you, Miss Mikhailonov, will be the one to pay for it because we’ve no use for you now.”

The man who had stopped him from being hit again sharply said, “Rudolf, don’t be stupid. We’re better off than we were before, if you stop and think about it.”

Both Hanisch and Rudolf looked at him, puzzled, but then Hanisch snapped his fingers and happily bellowed, “By God, you’re right! Who’s got more gold to pay ransom with than Drakar Mikhailonov?”

Cord nodded. “Exactly.”

Marilee screamed, “My father? You know something about my father? Oh, tell me, please…” She struggled against the ropes in her desperation to hear more. “What about him? Is he alive? Is he well?” Tears began to fill her eyes.

“He’s alive!” Rudolf sneered, then decided to make her suffer for having fouled up the plan that would have reaped him such respect and accolades from his peers. “He’s also a thief! A trader. All of Russia is after him for stealing gold from the Imperial treasury.”

Marilee shook her head wildly and protested, “No! That’s not true. My father would never steal. He doesn’t have to! He has a fortune of his own, and besides that, he’s loyal to the Czar—”

“The
deposed
Czar!” Hanisch was quick to say.

“It doesn’t matter!” Marilee raged indignantly, “My father would never steal!”

“Oh, he stole, all right!” Rudolf taunted, grinning. “But you better hope he hasn’t spent all that stolen gold, because that’s the only way he’ll ever see his daughter again—alive that is!”

“That’s enough,” Cord said.

Marilee looked at him then,
really
looked at him for the first time, and as she did, she experienced a strange sensation, like a soft velvet glove teasing her bare flesh.

He was tall, well over six feet. In the sunlight coming through the open window, his hair was a white-gold color, thick and shaggy, curling about his ears and the nape of his neck. His eyes were cornflower blue, with thick gold lashes. He had a perfect Grecian nose, and his, lips were incredibly full, sensuous.

Her gaze moved to his broad, strong shoulders. He was wearing a tan suede shirt, open to the waist, exposing a thick mat of golden chest hairs that trailed down to a narrow waist set above perfectly molded hips and thighs in tight twill trousers.

He sensed her staring at him, turned, and their eyes met, held, in electrifying awareness.

In that instant, Marilee was swept with the awesome suspicion that this fiercely handsome man was the stranger in the basement!

She glanced away uneasily, nervously, afraid if it were so that he would read in her face the raw hunger he had ignited that night…and also now.

“For now, we’ll keep her here,” Cord said. “You get to headquarters and report what’s happened, Hamisch. Ask them what to do. I’ll stay here while Rudolf goes back to town.”

Rudolf immediately whined, “Why do
I
have to go? Why don’t you go? I’ll stay with her—”

“The hell you will.” Cord gave him a shove toward the door. “Now get back and see what’s going on, then gather all her clothes and things and bring them here.”

Rudolf did not like being ordered around, felt he had been humiliated enough for one day. “All right,” he said finally, reluctantly. “But then what?”

“If anybody calls for her, just act like you think she left with her aunt. Meanwhile, we’ll wait here till Hanisch reports from headquarters.”

“Sounds good to me.” Hanisch started out, motioned for Rudolf to come along.

He moved to follow, then gave in to the impulse to goad one more time. Looking back at Marilee, he declared with mock tenderness, “It’s really a shame it had to turn out this way. We could have been happy together—once you learned how to be a
real woman
!”

Despite her misery, the futility of her plight, she was able to curl her lips back in a sneer of contempt as she laughed incredulously and informed him, “You stupid bastard! How could you expect to teach me anything? It takes a
real
man to make a woman
feel
like a woman!”

He started toward her, intending to do what he’d been aching to do—knock the hell out of her—but Cord was quicker, grabbed him by the nape of his neck, and slung him across the barn—and all the way out the door.

Hanisch chuckled his approval, walked out, and closed the door behind them.

When they were alone, Cord untied her ankles but left her wrists bound. “I don’t trust you just yet.” He flashed a confident smile. “But if you’re hungry, I’ve got some cheese and milk. I can spoon-feed you till you get over your tantrum.”

She hoped her anger would keep him from seeing how terrified she was. “Just leave me alone, damn you! When my father hears what you’ve done to me, he’ll kill you!