Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (54 page)

SEVENTEEN

A
mber woke to the sound of a cell phone ringing. She blinked her eyes, realizing she'd fallen asleep. For how long, she had no idea. Reaching down, she fumbled around her feet, searching for her bag, surprised when it wasn't there.

The ringing continued, a shrill bleat rising from the backseat. She adjusted her seat belt and reached over the bench seat in search of her phone, but froze as Tony's strong hand clamped onto her wrist.

“You don't need to answer that,” Tony said.

Amber's breath hiccupped. “What?”

“I should have turned that off.” His burly fingers tightened farther, cutting off the blood flow and making her pulse sprint. “There's no one you need to talk to now. Just relax.” His gaze, as sharp as his tone, homed in on her face.

The ringing stopped.

Amber tugged her hand free of his grip and plunked back in her seat, rubbing her sore wrist. Stunned by what had just taken place, she felt dread skip up her spine. In all the years she'd known Tony, she'd never seen him act this way. She lifted her chin and intensified her glare on him. “Tony, what's going on?”

Time ticked by, long anxious moments. Tony's gaze didn't waver and he stayed mute, his eyes fixed on the road in front of them.

An internal bell went off, and Amber darted her gaze out the front windshield. On the side of the road was a sign for North Coastal Highway 25. Her level of panic ratcheted another notch. Why were they heading into the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge and in the opposite direction of Kim's house?

“Tony.” Even in her attempt to stay calm, her voice pitched to a near screech. “Where are we going?”

“My dear Amber. You ask too many questions.”

Her pulse shot to the red zone. What was going on? The jolt of adrenaline suddenly brought her to full awareness.

Tony was the one who wanted her dead.

But how did he fit in with Carl and Randall? Her mind erupted in confusion. Nothing made sense. Her heart in her throat, she held her composure and ordered herself to stay calm. Maybe she was wrong. There had to be a simple explanation.

Swallowing, she studied Tony: the menacing twist to his features, the grimace on his lips. Amber's chest filled with fear, wondering how someone who had always exhibited such a calm and caring spirit could hide such evil.

She blinked, hoping this was all a bad dream. But when she looked again at the scowl on his face, her body went numb. This was not a dream, but her worst nightmare.

“Tony...you're the one? The one who's been trying—” Disbelief choked off the rest of her words.

A beat passed, then Tony sighed. “Things have gotten very complicated, Amber.”

Complicated?
What was so complicated that he needed her dead?

A new kind of fear mushroomed in her chest. Moving vehicle or not, she needed to get out of there. Concentrating on escape, Amber unclipped her seat belt and grabbed on to the door handle. She yanked and yanked, meeting resistance. She was locked in.

“Sorry, kiddo. It's locked from the inside. A little mechanism I installed myself.” Tony sighed again and shook his head.

Amber's jaw went slack. She firmed it up. “Why are you doing this?”

Tony exhaled a coarse breath. “You've come a long way, my friend, growing to be such a confident and passionate woman. An applaudable accomplishment in many respects, however, vulnerable and broken suited you better.”

What?
Before Amber could even gasp at his skewed logic, Tony jerked the vehicle to the left, around a sharp bend that led down a narrow gravel service road. The force sent her hurtling into the dash, her palms taking the brunt, sending a spike of pain exploding up her arms and into her back. She fell back against the seat, unconcerned with the pain as her mind stumbled to catch up.

So the fact that she was getting strong posed a threat, even more so now that she'd decided to tell her story. How would that involve Tony? In a flash of clarity she understood. Carl and Randall were dealing drugs. Tony had to be the General
.

A shudder ripped down Amber's spine. She stared right at Tony. “I can't believe this. You're a substance abuse counselor and running a drug ring?”

His laugh was hollow and mirthless. “Nothing in life is quite what it seems.”

Amber swallowed back bile, knowing his plans for her, but no way was she going to let him succeed.

“Let me out of here!” she snapped. “Do you hear me? Let me go!” Amber yanked on his arm, and the truck started to weave.

Overcorrecting the wheel, Tony roared, “No, you let go of me!” Balling his fist, he punched her in the chest, sending her flying across the cab of the truck. She bounced with a shriek, cut short when her head hit the passenger door.

Dazed and seeing stars, Amber quickly gripped the handle on the door and held on as Tony fought for control, violently jerking the wheel as the truck sharply swerved right, then fishtailed, spewing dust clouds into the air.

“Just remember, you're making things hard on yourself!” Tony yelled, his knuckles whitening as he stomped on the brakes. The squeal of brakes assaulted her ears as the truck spun and then skidded to a dead halt, with the tail end of the bed in the middle of the road and the front bumper pointed to the ditch.

Tony threw off his seat belt and Amber quickly pulled up in the seat, still in disbelief. Angry tears burned in her eyes, but resolve kept them at bay. She would not give Tony the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Amber, you seem to have more lives than a cat.” Tony spoke low, amusement underscoring his words as he plunged his hand into his jacket pocket. Her heart jumped to double time when she saw what he pulled out.

A laugh broke loose as Tony lifted the small plastic bag containing a syringe, capped and ready inside. “Even our feline friends run out of chances eventually.”

“No!” she yelled sharply, getting ready to bolt, but there was nowhere to go. Her heart pumped so hard she could hear it in her ears. She held up her hands, palms facing him, praying he'd become reasonable. “Tony, please, let's talk about this,” she pleaded, hope morphing into fear when she saw him shake his head.

“I don't think so.” He grimaced.

Twisting, Amber grabbed for the door handle again and started yanking, willing, praying it would open. Her futile attempt abated as Tony grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her around, pushing her against the seat. She blinked up at him as he loomed over her, nausea coiling tight in her stomach.

“Relax, Amber,” he whispered through clenched teeth, his hold on her hair tightening, pinning her to the seat.

As he leaned closer, rage built in her chest, but she knew it was a useless venture to try anything...yet.

“Such a shame the way things turned out,” he mumbled, shaking his head, his voice softer now. “A few young men trying to have a little fun at a frat party morphed into a major disaster that continued to haunt Carl all these years. He felt so guilty when he first became my patient, and you can imagine my surprise when I heard your story and realized you were the young woman who caused him such regret.”

Carl.
Her heart dipped to her stomach.
So it was him.
Even more disturbing, Tony had been the one who'd counseled him.

“Carl understood it was wrong.” Tony sighed. Slipping the syringe into his chest pocket, he kept talking, as if he needed time to set the record straight. “Setting you up like he did. Standing guard while his good friend Randall took you into his room, and then, of course, your near overdose, which kept Carl in fear that someday the story would find him.”

“Randall,” Amber said, her chest heaving. He was her college assailant, but Carl was the one who wanted her dead?

“And whether you realized it or not, you possessed the power to destroy poor Carl. His greatest fear was that you'd take your story public. And look at you,” he said, shaking his head. “His fears weren't in vain. You're geared up and ready to shout your story to whole city. And once you did that, the speculation that would follow has the potential to disrupt the lives of many. Both Carl and Randall have made quite a nice career in the drug trade, thanks to me. And if either of them were investigated, my name would be sure to come out. I couldn't let that happen. I hope you understand.”

Understand?
Was he crazy? She wanted to squeal in protest, but when Tony let out a frustrated cry, Amber knew she needed to get out of there.

“I am sorry that things turned out like they did. If only Carl had gotten the job done right the first time. Poor man, each failed attempt weakened his resolve to follow orders and keep his mouth shut.” Tony released her hair and reached for the syringe. “And now I'm forced to take care of things myself.”

Panic seized Amber's throat and blood pounded in her temples. She needed to make her move, and she needed to do it now.

Before she had the chance to chicken out, she fisted her hand and punched Tony's chest, knocking him off-kilter for a second. Then she dived over the seat back of the double cab and managed to kick him in the face as he grabbed after her.

“Amber! You need to stop this!” he growled, his long arms flailing as his body dangled across the seat back.

She would never stop. Never give up. Amber grabbed on to the rear handle and pulled hard—the door flew open. But before she could scramble out, Tony lunged into the backseat and latched on to one of her ankles, dragging her across the backseat.

“I've had enough of this.” He picked her up and flung her back over the front seat.

Air left her lungs as she landed with a thud. Working to regain her breath, she inhaled weakly. Each raspy breath competed with the fear flooding her chest as she caught the predatory gleam in Tony's eyes.

He was breathing heavily, impatiently, as he pulled out the syringe and ripped the plastic cap off with his teeth.

A scream wrenched from Amber's throat and bounced off the walls of the cab. Adrenaline burned through her, but before she could work up the strength to fight, she felt the prick of the needle in her stomach.

A veil of darkness moved in. Her vision blurred and everything started to swirl. But before the shadows could swallow her up, she managed to splutter, “You'll never get away with this.”

* * *

“Detective Wiley, please wait.”

Patrick wasn't about to wait. Instead, he charged down the fourth-floor corridor toward the elevator, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

“You can't leave. The doctor hasn't discharged you yet.” Nurse Jane stayed at his heels.

Patrick skidded to a stop at the elevator and smashed the button on the wall. He adjusted his phone to his other ear, trying to drown out the nurse's lecture and finish giving details to the police dispatcher. “Yes, Amber Talbot is likely with one of her colleagues, Tony Hill. Run his plates and track the GPS on Amber's cell phone.”

“...at least stay until I contact the doctor,” the nurse droned on.

Come on. Come on.
Patrick kept talking to the dispatcher, willing the elevator doors to open. He punched the button again. “And put out an APB on Hill. I want every available officer looking for him.” He hung up, and shot the nurse his best cop glare.

“Sorry. It's critical that I leave now.”

She folded her arms, unruffled. “If you do go, we'll have to write this up as an AMA. Against medical advice. Your insurance may not pay. And...”

And if he didn't leave, Amber may not live. That concern tore at his soul. Forgetting the elevator, Patrick swung around and gave the area a quick sweep, looking for an alternative exit. He took off down the narrow hall when he spotted a glowing exit sign and the word
stairs
marked under it. He left the nurse's words trailing in his wake.

As he slammed through the door, he bit his lip against the spasm of pain that hit when his arm caught the edge of the metal door as it swung shut.

Cradling his arm to his chest, he dashed down three sets of stairs two steps at a time. Reaching the bottom, he threw open the door and burst into the lobby just as, “Code yellow, St. Joseph's Hospital. Code yellow,” blared from the overhead speakers.

About time.

Patrick hastily assessed the area. A security officer stood a few yards away and was securing the glass entrance doors. His vehicle was parked outside against the curb.
Thank You, Lord.

Patrick made a beeline for the man. “I'm with the Savannah-Chatham Police Department. Unlock the door, please, and I need the keys to your vehicle.” He showed him his detective badge.

From the insipid look on the man's face, he wasn't impressed. “Sorry, sir, you'll have to take a seat.” He gestured to the lobby. “Nobody can leave. We're on a lockdown.”

Patrick firmly reiterated his demand, and the guard still refused.

“Why don't you radio the security office? I'll speak to them.”

After a slight hesitation, the man's eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you're not a patient here?”

“Yes, I was, but I'm also a detective.” Patrick flipped his badge again. “Do you carry a weapon?”

“Yes, sir. I do.” The man nodded and unlocked the door, then turned back to Patrick. “I have this Taser here.” He patted the holster on his belt. “Just got trained on it earlier this year.”

“Never mind.” Patrick quickly discounted that option. If he got close enough to the perpetrator to use that he'd be better off relying on his hand-to-hand combat maneuvers. Even with one arm in a sling.

Patrick grabbed the keys from the guard's hand and burst out the door, grateful for the man's cooperation.

Patrick jumped behind the wheel, slammed the gearshift into Drive and floored it, not even sure exactly where he was going.

He punched in the dispatcher's number. He needed Amber's phone's GPS location.