THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Jake was dead.

Bree would never forget the twinkle in his eyes when they first met in the diner and how he’d seemed too shy to ask for her phone number. Or how he’d rushed into the house chasing Brenda Ellen’s murderer. Or how he hadn’t embarrassed her in front of Julie before arresting her in the park.

A good man was dead because of her running. How many more would die?
It has to stop.
“This has to stop,” she shouted into the darkness surrounding her. She sniffed one last time, rubbing her nose on her drenched, smelly coat, then kicked out against the car trunk.

Her abductors—and Jake’s murderers—had been parked for several minutes. She was petrified but determined to be strong. She’d faced the unknown before. She’d faced Griffin and escaped. She could do it again with a little luck.

Footsteps. A pop. Jarring light shining in her eyes.

“Get out.”

“I, um, I can’t. My legs are cramping and I can’t move.”

“Do you think I give a flip?” As much as he tried, the man who’d shot Jake couldn’t disguise that his voice was high-pitched and his eyes darted questioningly all around him. It was plain to see he wasn’t in charge.

His gloved hands fisted on her collar and the handcuffs, using both to jerk her from the small trunk. Her legs protested and she fell to the concrete floor. It made no difference. He wrapped a hand in her clothing and hair at the back of her neck and dragged her across the filthy floor. He pulled her into a chair on the other side of the expansive abandoned room and began taping her to it.

The man who had carried her over his shoulder from the lake was smoking a cigarette, leaning on the roof of the compact. She wouldn’t cry. Not another tear. No matter what they did to her. “You won’t get away with this. The man you let drown was a homicide detective. There will be a citywide manhunt for you.”

“Like anybody saw us.” The younger one laughed as he sliced the end of the tape and stuck his knife back inside his boot.

“Wait,” the man in charge said, flipping his cigarette into a pile of rubble. “Our little friend here must be cold in that wet coat of hers. Let me help her a minute.”

“She’s handcuffed, Larry. We can’t—”

He waited until he was in the younger one’s face and flipped open a switchblade close to his ski-mask-covered nose. “What did I say about names?”

Bree swallowed hard, her throat dry and sore from the frightened tears she’d shed as she bounced in the trunk. The blade came closer. He polished the flat side just below her collarbone, the long, sharp edge just an inch away from her throat. She dared not look down, afraid that he might cut her and everything would be over.

He guided the knife down her arm, slicing her coat like butter when he came back to her neck. Across, around, down her sleeve and slicing on the way back up. She felt the tip only a couple of times on her right arm as it snagged in her sweater. If he broke the skin, she couldn’t tell in her state of mind.

He yanked the coat remnants back over her shoulders. The pieces would have fallen, but he continued, asserting his power by threatening her with each slice.

Her coat lay in shreds around the chair. The man who had shot Jake came closer and wrapped the tape around her chest, forcing her close to the chair. She could barely take a deep breath and definitely couldn’t move. She could no longer tell if she shivered because of the cold or shook because of the adrenaline firing through her body.

It took her a minute after they’d both walked away, but she finally got her voice. “What are we doing here?” she yelled to the men.

The man who’d attacked Jake glanced up from the back of the car, but only for a second. He seemed nervous, young, inexperienced, while the older guy, who he’d called Larry, had that dare-me-to-hurt-you look. The same evil gleam she’d seen on Griffin’s cohort’s face at the animal clinic.

“What do you want?” she asked Larry and his underling. They’d ignored her since taping her to the chair. She hated not knowing why they’d kept her alive. It honestly surprised her since they’d killed Brenda Ellen in such a horrible way.

Not much time had passed since the lake. Her clothes were still wet. Each minute seemed like five while she froze in the drafty warehouse. Colder now that he’d taken so much delight in cutting her coat. Remembering the blunt side of the blade against her skin made her shiver more.

Shafts of light filtered inside from windows high above her head, too high to climb out—if she could get free. It proved the sun was still shining. But the time didn’t make much difference. Not really.

No one knew where she was, and no one knew she was in danger. Jake hadn’t called his department or asked for backup after he’d found her.

These men could kill her and leave her body anywhere. Her parents already thought she was dead. Absolutely no one would know. She had to get free and, if nothing else, turn herself over to the police to stop more innocent people from dying.

Jake Craig was a hero who died trying to save her. He had a family. Brenda Ellen had parents. Those families deserved the truth. Their deaths weren’t going to be in vain. The tears for a man she barely knew threatened to spill, but she couldn’t lose control. She’d cry later.

The two men were masked and she couldn’t identify them if she did manage to escape. They’d changed cars and she’d bumped around in the trunk for a short drive across downtown.

Escaping didn’t seem possible. But could she convince them to release her?

Money!

“You don’t know where the money is, do you? That’s why you’re keeping me alive.”

“Shut up. Just shut it. I won’t be tellin’ you again,” the terrifying Larry said, punching a fist in her direction.

Facing this man was nothing like confronting Griffin in their offices. She’d been scared six months ago but able to fight. Tied and feeling helpless, she was more frightened of these men, who stood twenty feet from her. Still near the second car, they argued. Jake’s murderer kept looking at his watch and then checking his cell phone.

They’re waiting on instructions.

She twisted against the duct tape that barely shifted against her wet clothes. And then the handcuffs jingling made her think of Jake’s body floating facedown in that water. She wanted to shriek, shout, use some of the self-defense she’d learned to hurt the man who’d killed Jake. It was an unreasonable desire, but his death seemed unreasonable, too.

She barely knew the detective, but his needless death had pushed her further than she could handle.
Get a grip on yourself and get out of here so their deaths aren’t just a number!

“You can have the money. All two million of it. You don’t have to turn it over to Griffin. Have you thought of that?”

Both men stared at her. The younger started to talk, but the other hit the side of his head.

One phone call would get them their money. She’d left the briefcase with the only person from her family who knew she was alive. It would be easy to meet him—but not to save herself.

All she needed was to use one code word and her uncle would bring the police to the meeting. She might go to jail, but she was a witness to the murder of a police detective. She could put these men away for life. Jake’s death would mean something.

“It’s finally time,” Larry said.

The younger guy dialed the phone he’d been holding. The mean one yanked it away, stormed across the warehouse and stuck it in front of her face.

“Hello, Sabrina.” That smooth voice was her partner’s—her former partner.

“You stinking coward. How’s your leg, Griffin? Rotting off, I hope.”

“I’m afraid I’m better than your policeman,” he said without skipping a beat.

She swallowed hard to hold off the tears. Two people had died today because of her. She wouldn’t give Griffin Tyler the satisfaction of knowing how scared she was of these men.

The prearranged phone call confirmed what Jake had surmised about Brenda Ellen not being the intended victim. Who was she kidding? She hadn’t needed any confirmation. It was her fault and she’d make up for it. Somehow.

“We have a slight problem, hon,” Griffin said sweetly.

“So what?” She recognized the phony coaxing he used to talk to his clients. It had made her eyes roll six months ago. Now her stomach rolled instead.

“Always the smart aleck. We need the briefcase you stole from me.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Look, Sabrina. These men
will
hurt you and still get their money back. So you might as well tell them.”

“You don’t understand. I really don’t have it, Griffin. These buffoons left my stuff in the trunk of the car. Now it’s with the cops—at least part of it is. The rest is hidden in Amarillo.”

Hope bubbled inside her while Griffin screamed unsavory words at the masked men. “Get it back. You know what will happen if we don’t. I’ll instruct the others to move ahead with her family. Do whatever it takes.”

Griffin disconnected and the screen went black.

“What is he talking about? What does ‘move ahead with my family’ mean? My family has nothing to do with the money. They can’t help you. They think I’m dead.”

“Too late now. Maybe you should have thought about that before you took off with the payoff.” Larry flicked another cigarette over his shoulder as he shoved the other guy into a corner. He spoke too low to decipher any of the conversation.

It appeared that the men chasing her had men chasing them. Griffin’s voice hadn’t just shaken with anger—he’d sounded afraid.

“Wait! I can get the money back.” She could get almost all of the money from where it was hidden. But if something happened to her family... She was sinking in the deep end and needed help. Maybe she could get the police involved by exchanging the suitcase for her family. Maybe. Most likely not, but if there was a chance, she had to try. “Just let me go and I’ll give you the money when I get it back.”

“You said it was with the cops,” the younger one whined. The mean one hit him along the side of his head again.

“Don’t listen. She’s going to say anything to get us to let her go,” the leader said. “But it won’t work.”

“Do
you
want to waltz into the police station and ask for it? How do you think that will go over?” she said.

“Maybe better if you hadn’t killed that cop.” Larry punched the younger man standing in front of him.

Again, the thought of Detective Jake Craig being dead made her take a quick couple of breaths to stop the tears. In spite of the handcuffs, she really liked the man. He’d been smart and genuinely seemed to like Dallas.

“I keep telling you, man, I didn’t kill him. The damn dog pawed at him and flipped him over. I saw the annoying SOB stand up in the water before I got in the car.”

Thank you, God.
Jake was okay. He was going to kill her if she escaped, but he was alive.

“I know how to get my suitcase back,” she said to them. Both stared at her. Their dark eyes eerily reflected the sunlight. She wanted to gulp again but didn’t allow herself. “You can exchange me for the money.”

“How? I ain’t calling no police station,” the younger guy declared, shaking his head.

“There’s a phone in my stuff. If the police have it, someone will give it to the detective and you can demand an exchange.”

“What if they don’t answer?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someone will hear the phone ring and give Detective Craig a message. We can at least try.” She wanted to plead, coax, nudge or do whatever to convince these men to get Jake involved again. He’d help. He had to help.

The man who’d carried her to the truck prodded the other. “This might be our lucky break. We still got the phone she was holding?”

“That’s his,” she said quickly. “He’ll recognize the number straight away. Won’t that help?”

“We got one shot at this. Get that phone out of the car,” the mean one instructed.

The younger guy ran into the far corner of the warehouse. It was dark, but she heard the click of a door opening and saw the small pin of light from inside the car.

The one giving orders came back to her and leaned so close she could smell his rancid cologne. “You better hear what I’m about to say and understand that I’d have strangled you as quick as that other bitch if Tyler had let me. I will, if you cross us, and you probably will, anyway. No hesitation and no regret.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then why should I get the money back for you?”

“I know what a softie you are for them dogs you babysit. I swear to you I’ll kill ’em all if I don’t get that cash back.” His gaze turned excited as much as his voice shook with evil delight. “Then there’s your family. I could have fun watching that younger sister of yours beg a little. No tellin’ what she might do first.”

There was no doubt in her heart that this killer wasn’t exaggerating. He would follow through on his oath. He wanted to kill her and everyone else in his path. It didn’t matter what or who. Everything about him shouted that he enjoyed killing.

“I, um, I can get you the money, but I need the phone from the police station. I hid part of it in Amarillo. But if I don’t call, they’ll send it to the police with a letter.”

He turned away, repeating most of the words Griffin had muttered minutes before. He spun, reached out and began crushing her larynx. The tape held her upper arms close to her chest. She tried raising her hand, ineptly knocking at his side. He was going to kill her and there was nothing she could do. He squeezed just enough to keep her from getting a full breath.

“If you double-cross me, sweetheart, there’s nowhere you can hide. Do you understand me? I know where your family lives, Sabrina Watkins. I don’t only work for your weak-hearted vet friend. The people who call the shots are worse than you can imagine I am.”

“Stop, man. Don’t jump the gun. We need her.” The second man pulled at the hand while she barely wheezed air into her lungs.

The madman released her and stomped away. She sucked blessed air, all the while coughing and feeling like a vise was still latched around her throat. A bottle of water was soon at her lips and tipped, pouring into her mouth. She coughed and choked, letting most of it stream down her chin.