The Taming of the Thief (24 page)

 
   
“He forgot to mention the reason why he was
here and I found a file with my name on it. He has told me his version, but…”
She hesitated and Pietr took heart that she wasn't calling him a liar outright.

 
   
“But you need confirmation. My cousin does
like to prevaricate, Ms. Kingston.” The line went silent, the air crackling
with long-distance static. “What's the confirmation worth to you, Pietr?
The chalet in Switzerland?
The house in
Tuscany?”
The muffled sound of a woman in the background made Max laugh.
“The Yacht in the Mediterranean?”

 
   
The merry response stopped Pietr cold and he
glared at the phone. Now was not the time for games.

 
   
“All of it, if you wish and Anya may even
have that Degas she's admired so much. Just please answer Sophie's question.”

 
   
“Oh, well done, Ms. Kingston. Well done.”

 
   
Pietr supposed that in some world, this was
karma, but the bewildered expression on Sophie's face urged him to end the
negotiation.

 
   
 
“I
just want the truth, Mr. Sauvage, not some purchased fabrication.”

 
   
 
“
Touche
.” But Anya interrupted whatever
Max wanted to say along with what sounded suspiciously like Lady Amanda, Max's
mother. His humiliation was fully witnessed, but Pietr didn't care if Max's
words could chase away the doubt in Sophie's eyes.

 
   
 
“
Oui,
Anya, I shall behave. Pietr came to
New York as a favor to me, Ms. Kingston. We are trying to locate an item known
as
The Fortunate Buddha
. It was
stolen from a monastery and we have been close to recovering it twice…ow, I
have been close to it twice
mon
amor
,” the
last clearly not said into the phone. “I asked Pietr to check out why a museum
curator researched the piece, hoping that it had turned up in your museum or
that you might have a lead on it. Do you?”

 
   
 
“Thank you, Maxwell.” Pietr stated, stabbing
the phone to hang it up before Sophie could answer.

 
   
 
A
hard knock on the door jerked Pietr's attention and he swore. “One moment, I
will get rid of them.” Room service had already delivered, but it could be
papers or other business materials sent by Max for his review. He jerked open
the door, prepared for a quick dismissal, when he saw the gun.

 
   
A hammer of pain punched him in the chest
and Sophie screamed.

 
   
Sophie!

 
   
And then nothing.

 
   
S
ophie
launched off the settee, horror tripping her up. Pietr fell to the ground,
blood blossoming on the smooth tan, flesh. She grabbed the coffee pot and threw
it. The first man through the door dodged the silver carafe, but the second
swore as it rebounded off the doorframe and showered him in scalding coffee.

 
   
 
Relentless lessons learned at her father's
side and Sophie straight-armed a blow at the first man's forearm. Trying to
knock the gun away, but he seized a handful of her hair and dragged her
backwards, pain sparking tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth to scream,
when a tobacco scented breath hissed at her ear.

 
   
“Shh, or we'll put another bullet in him.”

 
   
 
Her
assailant allowed her to turn her head. The second man had a gun pointing at
Pietr's slumped body. The fight went out of her.

 
   
 
“You
will behave.”

 
   
 
She
tried to nod, but the gesture only yanked at her hair, so she settled for a
muted, “yes.”

 
   
 
The
two men hustled her out the door and down the hallway. A second man lay slumped
on the ground just outside the door - Pietr's security.

 
   
 
Sophie tried to look back to the open room.
She saw no movement as the two men dragged her into the elevator. The second
man wore a black scowl as he inserted a key and held the button for the
basement level. She'd hoped they would stop on another floor, that someone
would see, but the elevator's swift descent shattered that hope.

 
   
 
“What
do you want?” She asked, resorting to reason. If she could keep them talking,
she might be able to buy time for an intervention.

 
   
 
“Quiet.” The man holding her emphasized the
order with a jerk to her head. Her scalp screamed from the abuse, but the fist
in her hair and the warm gun jabbing at the flesh below her shirt urged her to
obey.

 
   
 
“Just
tell me what you want so I can go back and help him.”
Please be okay, Pietr.
She was furious with the man, furious with
his
omissions,
furious with his highhanded seduction,
but twinning that fury was a despair that they would never be able to work past
it if he died.

 
   
 
And
she wanted to be able to forgive him.
To work it out.
To make a go of it again.

 
   
 
Her
heart squeezed painfully in her chest. The doors opened to an empty basement
and Sophie's hope of being seen fizzled. The men hustled her out, half carrying
her down the hallway, their legs pumping.

 
   
 
Barefeet scrambling for purchase on the cold
tile, she tried to dig in her heels, but they just lifted her higher. A door
opened behind them and the sound of pounding feet had her twisting and
screaming. She struck out her foot, connecting painfully with the shin of the
man she'd scalded with coffee.

 
   
 
He
swore and then a fist slammed into her cheek and she sagged, pain blooming in
her face. The men swore and then Sophie fell, her knees slammed into the tile
with bone jarring force that rattled her teeth.

 
   
 
She
canted her head up and saw the first man aiming his gun. “No!” Launching
herself upwards, she shoved his elbow, pushing his aim up and sending the shot
wildly towards the overhead lights. The long hallway became a kaleidoscope of
flickering sparks and flashing fluorescents.

 
   
 
Sophie lifted her forearm to shield her face
as the first man struck her, sending her back into the wall and then she was
all scratching nails and kicks. A third blow from a hard fist sent her head at
the wall and her vision dimmed.

 
   
 
Sliding down the wall, she lifted her arms in
a futile effort to fend off the man dragging her upwards and throwing her over
his shoulder. He muttered something foreign and then raced down the hallway.
Nausea swarmed over her and blackness circled her vision, closing over her and
she saw her second assailant go down as a man with short-cropped blonde hair
launched towards them, then a door slammed and car exhaust filled her nostrils.

 
   
 
Too late.

 
   
 
“I
thought my instructions on Ms. Kingston were explicit.” A French accent
penetrated the blackness wrapping her vision. Sophie resisted the urge to
groan, the pounding in her head making her ears ring. The coppery flavor of
blood stung the inside of her mouth and her arm protested being squashed
between
she
and the floor.

 
   
 
“You're lucky you got her at all.” The second
man's voice wrapped her in coils of dread. He'd shot Pietr. He'd been the first
man through the door of the hotel room, the one who'd grabbed her.

 
   
 
He'd
shot Pietr.

 
   
 
Sophie forced one eye open. The dim light in
the room stabbed at her head and she squeezed her eyes shut.

 
   
 
“And your partner?”
The Frenchman's voice tugged at another
memory, curling in her stomach with unease.

 
   
 
“Had to leave him.
That Sauvage guy had a lot of security
and one of them tackled us in the staff tunnel. My choices were stay and help
him, risk being caught or deliver the doc here.”

 
   
 
“You
did well.” Something slippery and dark infected the man's words and Sophie
cracked her eyes open again. She was in a trunk, not a room and the shadowy
light came from the two men looming over her. They were backlit by the morning
sunshine, at least she hoped it was morning, and she couldn't make out their
features.

 
   
 
Thankfully, they both ignored her.

 
   
 
“I
want my payment and then I'm getting the hell out of here.”

 
   
 
“Absolutely, let me get the case from the
car.”

 
   
 
The
first man was in a lot of danger, Sophie realized, closing her eyes against the
glare of the sun as the pair moved away from the trunk. Even expecting it, the
sick little crack of noise and the thump of a body hitting the ground sent her
gorge rising.

 
   
 
Dragging her arm out from under her, she tried
to rise. If she could get out of the trunk, she could run. She had no idea
where she was, but she didn't want to be here.

 
   
 
“You
have an admirable spirit, Ms. Kingston.” Too late, the Frenchman returned and
Sophie looked up to find his cool, cruel gaze assessing her. “I am sorry for
the accommodations, but I hired your transport for their brawn, not their
brains.”

 
   
 
“Who
are you?”

 
   
 
“We'll get to that.” He motioned with a gun
for her to lie down. “Just a few more minutes and I promise you more
comfortable accommodations.”

 
   
 
Sophie flicked her gaze around the area behind
him. She could make out construction equipment, a crane and some stacks of
wood. She could be anywhere. The height of the sun said morning pressed
onwards, but even that much effort dug pain deeper into her abused skull. She
laid
down, slowly, wincing at the cramped position and
tenderness at the back of her head.

 
   
 
“Good
girl. Sit tight. We will be there soon.” The lid closed with utter finality,
leaving her encased in darkness. Fear clawing at her throat, she pushed her
hands against the roof of her prison, but the trunk was well and truly locked.
She ran her fingers over the rough metal, looking for the pull-tab.

 
   
 
Modern cars were required to have them, to
prevent the unintentional locking of a person in the trunk. But her fingers
couldn't find what her eyes said wasn't there. The tab should be glowing in the
dark, but it wasn't.

 
   
 
The
engine started and exhaust drifted into the confined space, stinking of oil,
dust and carbon. The jerk of the car rolling into motion banged her against the
side. Pain shot through her head and she fought the nausea playing tug of war
with her stomach.

 
   
 
She
had to stay awake. She had to escape.

 
   
 
She
had to get back to Pietr.

 
   
 
Pietr
.
The thought
of him filled her with an inescapable longing.
Please be all right.

 
   
 
P
ietr scowled at the nurse pressing
gauze against his shoulder. “Just bandage it up.”