Chapter Thirty
Tiffany had seen these men before, but where? Both wore jeans, one with a burgundy polo and the other a dark green T-shirt. They looked like regular guys, both dark haired and in good shape. Tiffany would never have glanced twice at either of them—except T-Shirt carried a gun. Not pointed at them—thank you, God—but resting in his hand, enough of a threat to dry her mouth right up.
Dakota went pale enough to faint. “Fuck.”
“Do you know them?” Tiffany stared at the gun. She caught Dakota’s nod out of the corner of her eye.
The penny dropped. It was the two men from Youngtown. The ones Thomas had pointed out from across the street. The men must have followed them. A quick glance at the street behind them confirmed it was empty.
“Good morning.” Polo Shirt stepped forward. “How are you, Dakota?”
Dakota took a small step closer to her. “Fine.”
“You look well.” He grinned a flash of perfect white teeth.
That gun looked huge to her, gray and nasty.
“Who’s that?” T-Shirt jerked his head in her direction.
Tiffany tried to focus on his face, but the gun kept making her look at it.
“She’s nobody.” Dakota got his shoulder in front of her, as if to shield her from the men.
“She’s hot,” said T-Shirt, his leer doing a slow, creepy inventory.
“Really, Sid?” Polo Shirt glanced at his companion. “You’re making the lady uncomfortable. My apologies.” More white teeth flashed in his attractive, clean-cut face.
Tiffany gave a weak nod. The gun made her way more uncomfortable than the comment, but what the hell. She was not going to argue the point.
“You are, however, rather lovely,” said Polo Shirt. “My maladroit friend here is quite right about that.”
“Thank you?” What the hell did maladroit mean? Thomas would know. Except Thomas wasn’t there. It was just her and Dakota and two men with a gun. Sweat broke out over her.
Polo Shirt gave her a polite nod. His glance cut back to Dakota. “You have been difficult to track down, my young friend. Sid was becoming rather difficult to manage.” He turned back to her with a shrug. “You see, Sid likes cities. Sid doesn’t like the desert, although he did concede to a fondness for the mountains this morning.”
“I wasn’t running.” Dakota’s breath rasped harsh and hard.
Dakota was scared shitless. That made two of them. She took his hand. He twined his fingers with hers and pressed hard.
“No?” Polo Shirt raised his eyebrows. “Because it certainly looked that way to us.” The corners of his mouth turned down in regret. “And if it looked that way to us, then it looked that way to Ronnie.”
“I was coming back.” Dakota stepped forward.
The gun moved an inch. Tiffany tugged back on his hand and he obeyed the silent command. She increased the pressure between their fingers, a silent warning. “He was,” she said to Polo Shirt. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sid. “He was coming back with me.”
“I believe you, ma’am,” Polo Shirt said. “Unfortunately, our young friend here, I do not believe. I would say that you were as much a victim of his creative relationship with the truth as me and Sid.”
Tiffany didn’t have much she could say to that, so she snapped her mouth shut.
Sid scratched at his forearm with the blunt, ugly barrel of the gun. A large tattoo of a dragon curled around and disappeared behind his elbow.
“Ronnie wants his money, Dakota.” Polo Shirt stopped with friendly. His expression went hard enough to cut diamonds.
“I’ll get it to him,” Dakota said, a silent plea in his voice.
Tiffany squeezed his hand. He returned the pressure.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true, Patrick, I swear it.” Dakota’s hand slid sweaty against hers.
Polo Shirt was called Patrick. Tiffany tucked that away. She’d read somewhere that it helped if you had a name. It was a way to make them see you as human. No, they needed your name. That was it. “I’m Tiffany,” she said. Both stares swung in her direction. “Dakota is traveling with me.”
“Great to meet you, Tiffany,” Patrick said with a smile. “Sorry about the circumstances.”
Sid ogled the car. “Is this a Miura?”
“Yes.” Great, a car lover, she could use that.
He gave a long whistle of appreciation. “Sweet.”
All right then, if he wanted to do a little bonding over the car, she could manage that. “It’s an SV,” she said. “All the parts are original.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, authentic, anyway. It met with a bit of trouble and needed some repair. But I made sure to track down the genuine replacement parts.”
“I bet she’s a sweet ride.”
“The sweetest.” Tiffany winced as her voice came out overly enthusiastic.
“I’m not much of a car man,” said Patrick. “Sid is. I am more of a money man. As in, I am here to collect.”
“We could take the Miura,” Sid said with a hopeful gleam in his eye.
“No.” Dakota stepped forward as if he would guard the car.
Up came the gun and Dakota stopped. Tiffany froze. If they wanted the car, let them take the damn car.
“Dakota is quite right,” Patrick said. “A car like this would be child’s play to trace. No, we’ll take our money. Now.”
“I don’t have the money.” Dakota slumped back at her side. Tiffany stepped closer to him, trying to reassure him with her presence.
Patrick heaved a sigh and shook his head. “That is regrettable, Dakota. We have a serious problem in that case. Because I am not leaving without the money.”
“I’ll get it.” Dakota openly pleaded with him. “As soon as I get home, I can get it.”
Patrick shook his head. “No deal, Dakota.”
A car appeared in the road behind Patrick and Sid. Luke’s battered SUV. Thank you, Jesus. A rescuer—or a witness. She dragged her gaze away. Perhaps if Luke could sneak up behind them? A door slammed and then another, and Patrick swung around. A gun appeared in his hand as well.
“If you would.” He gestured to her with the gun. “Quickly, Tiffany. I do not wish to face your large friend without a little insurance.”
“Take me.” Dakota stepped forward.
Bless his heart. Dakota had balls. Damn, but she couldn’t let him do it. “No.” Tiffany moved quickly closer to Patrick. “It’s fine.”
He snagged her arm and dragged her in front of him. “I apologize for the necessity of this,” he said, his voice a purr in her ear. “But your friend is rather big and looking somewhat murderous.”
Thomas stepped from the car. He stopped in his tracks, his glare locked on them. Patrick was right. He did look like he could rip someone apart.
“Get Dakota.” Patrick jerked his head.
Sid grabbed Dakota by the shoulder.
Tiffany flinched as Dakota got slammed into the wall. “Don’t hurt him.”
Sid shoved Dakota’s head against the garage wall, his gun resting against his temple. Dakota’s eyes went so wide they nearly swallowed his face. Shit, she had to do something. Why wouldn’t her brain work?
“You didn’t think you could take Ronnie’s product and not pay up, did you?” Sid snarled in Dakota’s ear. “You little rich punks. You always think you can take what you want and not pay.”
Sweat beaded Dakota’s forehead as he gabbled a denial.
Oh, fuck. The drugs he’d taken on the road, the accusation of dealing from school, even her trashed room started to make a gut-churning sort of sense. “Please?” She spoke to Patrick because she didn’t like her chances of reasoning with Sid. And his gun. “He’s just a boy. We’ll get you your money. Just don’t hurt him.”
“Tiffany?” Thomas spoke, his muscles locked in a rigid line. He looked ready to spring into action.
“Don’t.” She shook her head at him. If he did that, somebody was getting shot for sure. “They have Dakota.”
“And we have these. Don’t be a hero.” Patrick brought the gun up so Thomas could see it. He pressed it against the side of her neck, cold and hard.
Luke’s gaze took in everything. He seemed to be mentally assessing his chances.
“What is this about?” Thomas held his hands to the side, in clear sight.
Thank God for Thomas and his calm.
Luke edged a step closer. A whimper got away from Tiffany. If stupid, numb-nuts Luke tried anything, she or Dakota would be target practice for sure. She glared at him not to come any closer, giving it everything she had.
“Dakota owes an associate of mine some money,” Patrick said. His calm, polite tone scared the crap out of her. This man had no fear.
“Little fucker.” Sid shoved Dakota against the wall. Dakota’s head thunked on the unforgiving cement.
“How much?” Thomas asked.
“Five thousand dollars, and a little more for interest,” Patrick said. “Not a huge amount, by any means, but Ronnie has the need to send a signal to Dakota and his friends. They haven’t been behaving well and Ronnie has run out of patience.”
“I’ll get you the money,” Thomas said. “Let Tiffany and the kid go and I’ll get you the money. Hell, I’ll even come with you and you can keep me until I get the money.”
“That is a very generous offer.” Patrick sounded impressed. “You are a good man, I can tell. However, our issue is not with you. The police tend to take a dim light of getting civilians involved in our dealings.”
“How about children?” Thomas kept going with the same reasonable tone.
Patrick chuckled. “Children who deal drugs are given special treatment by the authorities.”
“Not such a big man, are you?” Sid slammed Dakota’s head again.
Sid was going to brain him if that carried on. “Please?” Tiffany whispered to Patrick. “Stop him.”
“If you take another step, I will have no hesitation in shooting your brother,” Patrick said. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to her. Fucking Luke had edged even closer.
“I won’t kill him,” Patrick said. “That would be self-defeating. No, but I can make it hurt. I can also make sure he has a reminder to last him the rest of his life.”
Luke stilled and raised his arms like Thomas.
“Good,” Patrick said. “Step back, please.”
Luke did as he was told. His gaze drifted to Dakota. God, she hoped good sense won, because one of them could end up dead otherwise. She clenched her fists by her side.
Thomas stared at her, sending reassurance with his look.
Tiffany appreciated the effort. Sweat dripped down her sides. Her nails bit into her palms. Her gaze drifted over to her purse. She must have dropped it when Patrick grabbed her. Her purse. She almost laughed out loud. “I have your money.” All heads swung in her direction. “At least, most of it.”
“Tiffany.” Thomas’s voice held a heavy warning.
“No.” She shook her head at him. Over her shoulder she kept her words directed at Patrick. “I have a little under four thousand dollars in my purse, right now. You could take it and leave.”
“That would leave me a whole thousand short,” Patrick said, but he sounded a little intrigued. “Minus the interest, of course.”
“It would leave you one thousand and twenty-five dollars short,” she said. “That’s seventy-nine percent of your five thousand.”
“You forget, Tiffany, that I have you and Dakota, and that guarantees me one hundred percent of my total.”
Numbers. It all came down to numbers. Her brain slowed from panic mode and started to cypher. “I have some other numbers for you. Did you know the average crime rate in the US last year was two hundred and fourteen point zero one per hundred thousand people?”
Silence greeted her. Patrick went still at her back. “No, I did not.”
“There are no figures yet for this year, or I would have them,” she said.
“You have crime rates in your head?” Patrick grunted.
All of them, including Dakota, looked at her as if she’s just lost the plot. “No,” she said to Patrick. “I have a head full of all sorts of numbers, because I like numbers and I’m always looking up statistics.”
“Jesus.” Sid shoved Dakota and made him wince. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“You could do that.” Tiffany leaped in before Patrick could answer. “But before you do, you should know that Chicago has a crime rate of almost six hundred crimes per hundred thousand people, and Canyons is below two hundred. Compare that to national average of around three hundred.”
Luke shook his head, as if to clear it.
Thomas gave her a tiny nod. He got it.
She rushed on before she could get scared and back out. “Combine that with the fact that the FBI reports a five point four percent decrease in violent crime for the first quarter of this year . . . Okay, those statistics are preliminary, but I think you get the picture.”
“I don’t,” Sid said. “I haven’t a clue what the fuck she’s talking about.”
“She’s telling you that you screw with her and you’re fucked,” said Thomas.
“I don’t think so,” Patrick responded with a smile in his voice. “I hate to sound obvious, but I have the gun.”
“And the police force of two cities on your ass if you use it. One with very little else to do but hunt you down, and the other with the manpower and knowledge to help them do it well.” Thomas slammed the point home.
“That’s bullshit.” Sid loosened his grip on Dakota slightly.
“I’m with Sid,” Patrick said. “None of this adds up.” He laughed softly at his own joke.
“You clearly know Dakota.” She stared at Thomas. He sent her silent encouragement. “You trashed my motel room, so you also know, if not who I am, what I am.”
“A princess?” Luke looked confused, but still trying to play along.
“Exactly.” Tiffany swallowed as the pressure from Patrick’s gun increased. “A rich, spoiled, pampered, and adored princess whose daddy will rip this country upside down and inside out if anything happens to her. A daddy with the kind of clout to make me a number one priority of not just those two police forces but the FBI as well.”
“Yeah.” Sid broke the silence. “But we’ve still got the fucking guns.”
“And if you use them, you’ll make a mess for yourselves that there will be no getting out of,” Thomas said. “It would mean murder. Quadruple murder—three of us and a princess.”
“Murder is such an ugly word,” murmured Luke.
Patrick moved the gun and jammed it into her ribs so hard Tiffany whimpered.
Thomas lurched forward.
“Don’t.” Patrick’s voice got ugly.
Thomas bunched his hands into fists. “How many of those violent crimes were murders?”
“Five hundred in Chicago,” she said. “One in Canyons.”
“Really?” Thomas nodded as if they were discussing the weather.
“We don’t need to kill anyone,” Patrick said, but the confidence in his tone faltered. “We will take Dakota with us, and that will give us enough insurance for your numbers to be meaningless.”
“Kidnappings?” Thomas asked her.
“Hard to say,” she answered immediately. “The FBI deals with those, but they say it’s on the rise.”
Sid sneered. “You see, you don’t know everything.”
Thomas nodded his head slowly. “Who was it in the FBI that your daddy knows?”
“James Comey,” Tiffany said. “Some people call him the director. I call him Uncle Jimmy. Kidnapping is a serious federal offense and a felony, and on average prison sentences are around twenty years, depending on prior convictions and case specifics.”
Sid glanced from her to Thomas and back to Patrick. “What the fuck are they talking about?”
“So, here’s the deal.” Tiffany got in quick before they could sort out the bullshit from the facts. “I give you the money in my purse and forget I even saw you. That puts the odds in your favor.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Sid shoved the gun at Dakota’s head. “As soon as our backs are turned, the bitch will go to the police.”
“I have another two hundred with me,” Thomas said.
“That takes you to eighty three point five percent,” she said.
“Hey.” Luke finally got with the program. “I can add another four to that.”
“Ninety one and a half percent,” she said to Patrick. “With the odds in your favor of getting away free and clear.”
“I just want Ronnie’s five thousand dollars.” Sid looked a little sick.
“There is a risk factor that we will call the police immediately.” Tiffany rushed in again. “But consider that the average police response time to a nine-one-one call is ten minutes, with a best of four minutes and a worst of one hour. The average interaction time with a criminal being just ninety seconds. It means we have to wait another two and a half minutes for the police to arrive.”
“What the fuck is she saying?” Sid got a bit whiny.
“She’s saying we’ve got twelve minutes to get away.” Patrick’s grip on her tightened painfully.
“And I’m going to sweeten the deal and give you all of our cell phones,” Tiffany said. “That should give you a little longer, given that the nearest house is a little way down the road and, being the middle of the day, there might be nobody at home.” She held out her phone, and Patrick snatched it and hurled it against the wall. It shattered on impact, making them all jump.
The silence stretched out until it made her want to scream.
“Give me the fucking money,” Patrick said.
“It’s over there.” Tiffany motioned her purse.
Patrick prodded her toward the purse.
“Get their money,” he said to Sid. “Break their phones, make sure you get the kid’s at the same time.”
“I have sixty.” Dakota hauled the twenties out of his pocket.
Sid snatched them. He made Dakota collect the money from Luke and Thomas and then returned to Patrick’s side.
Tiffany used the time to pull out her cash and count. “I have a little more than three thousand nine hundred and seventy-five,” she said. “With Dakota’s sixty and my extra forty-five, you now have four thousand six hundred and eighty, that’s ninety-three point six percent, and over twelve minutes to disappear. If you lock us in, you stretch that window.”
Luke made a noise of protest, his eyes huge in his face.
Thomas looked at her calmly. He trusted her, and Tiffany’s confidence grew.
“I like how you think,” Patrick said. “Get in here.” He motioned to Luke and Thomas. “Over there by the wall.” The two men shuffled into place. He gave her a shove with his gun. “Now you, Princess.”
Tiffany had trouble walking on her rubber legs. She reached the wall and sagged against it. Dakota’s hand found hers and squeezed. She returned the pressure.
“Nice going,” Luke whispered. “Lock us in?”
“Shut up,” Thomas muttered back.
Sid moved to stand by Patrick. Both of them kept their guns trained on the group.
“I hate fucking rich people,” Sid said.
Luke muttered beneath his breath and Tiffany gave him a hard pinch. He jumped a little, but shut up.
The two men backed away from them, guns still raised.
“I will return if Ronnie is not satisfied,” Patrick said.
“Make sure he is,” Thomas said. “Because this is a one-off deal. Next time I see you, I’m calling the police.”
Patrick looked wounded and shook his head. “So unpleasant.”
Nobody moved as Patrick and Sid slid the garage door closed. The lock clanked into place and the garage closed hot and dark around them. Car doors opened and closed outside. An engine coughed into life. Tires squealed in protest as Sid and Patrick wasted no time in taking advantage of their twelve minutes.
Luke broke the silence. “Now what?”
“Now we open the door.” Tiffany’s throat closed and her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
“We’re locked in.” Luke slammed his fist against the wall.
“But I have the key.” Her hand shook so badly she almost dropped it as she handed it over. “And that lock opens from both sides.”
“Babe?” Thomas’s voice broke her trance.
Tiffany turned, pushed past Luke, and walked straight into his arms. Only when she had her cheek against the solid bulk of Thomas’s chest did she relax. She sucked in a lungful of that unique Thomas scent. Her arms locked around his waist and she let him support her weight.
“You okay, baby?”
“No.”
“You will be.” He tightened his hold on her.
Tiffany nodded. She would be. If he held her for another few minutes, she would be fine.
His lips pressed the top of her head. “A fucking genius.”