Jaclyn kept still on the rank, beat-up couch in a windowless warehouse. Other than a few metal shelves and some supplies, the place looked vacant. Based on the address labels on a few boxes stacked nearby, she was pretty sure she was still in Dallas.
Jim had pulled up beside her in his bright red Rosso Corsa Ferrari 488 Spider as she was leaving the hotel for work. Looking upset, he’d told her that her father had just been taken to the hospital and offered her a ride. Her reactions sidestepped her instincts. As soon as she’d jumped into the passenger seat and reached for her seat belt, Jim had placed her in a chokehold to plunge a syringe into her neck.
But she was awake now. She’d woken up once before, shocked to see Dylan there with Jim. They’d let her stay awake just long enough to send two texts under duress. But the second she’d finished, they’d sedated her again.
Though she’d been conscious for a good ten or fifteen minutes, she stayed quiet. Another injection was the last thing she needed. She was having a hard enough time shaking off the fog of the last sedative they gave her.
She could hear a faint conversation in a faraway room, so she was alone for the moment. Peeking open her eyes, she realized that Richard’s glasses were still resting on her face. Looking at her cuffed hands, she sighed in relief.
Now I just need to—
She was inching her hands near her face when two sets of heavy footsteps approached. As the men barged into the room, she froze and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You said we were leaving for Mexico. You said there was nothing to worry about.”
Dylan sounded worked up. Jaclyn wondered how irritated he’d have to be to walk away.
“Relax. It’s just a delay. A few hours at the most,” Jim said. “I’ve got a dozen people shaking everything loose. There’s nothing to worry about.”
But his silver-tongued spin apparently wasn’t keeping his henchman under control. Jaclyn cracked her eyes open a slit to watch.
Dylan glared at Jim. “Right. And when the shit hits the fan, I take the rap and get five to ten, while you take a jet to the Bahamas and get a margarita on the beach. If I go down, you’re fucking going down too.”
“Nobody’s going down. Look at her. You think she’s gonna say a goddamn word? Her father’s a heart attack waiting to happen. A trumped-up story about underage hookers or insider trading, and he’s toast. I need her money, and she needs me to not rain hell and headlines on Daddy’s company. She sent those texts because she thought we had her sister. Now keep cool, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
Jaclyn had heard everything she needed to. Knowing that her sister wasn’t truly a hostage changed everything. Technically, they were half sisters, but still family. Now she only had to worry about freeing herself, and getting rid of these ridiculous handcuffs was paramount.
With the revelation that Jim and Dylan were delayed, Jaclyn realized she might have found an opportunity. Time to divide and conquer.
“He’s lying,” she said quietly on a moan.
Jim strolled to the sofa and plopped down beside her. “Well, well, well, look who’s awake.” He snagged a fistful of her hair and yanked her up.
She turned deliberately bleary eyes on him, then Dylan. Acting groggier than she was, she kept her eyes heavy and her movements slow.
“He didn’t bring you here just to be his thug,” she said, blinking slowly at Dylan. “You were gonna take the fall the whole time. It’s what he does.”
“Wow,” Jim said with a sneer. “Looks like someone wants another nap. Get the syringe.”
Dylan headed toward a small box on a nearby table, but paused when Jaclyn spoke again.
“Let me guess. He said you’re both going to Mexico but didn’t mention you’d need a passport.”
Dylan rushed toward Jim and lifted him by his neck. “You were gonna leave me to take the heat!”
Jim’s face turned red as he struggled in the younger, more muscular man’s hold. “You moron, she’s playing you! Don’t mess this up. You’ll lose millions.”
“Right.” Dylan shoved Jim back into a wall. “Well, looks like you have a delay, so I’m going for a little ride. Gonna pick up my passport. And if the cops suddenly sniff me out, I’m pointing my finger at you, motherfucker.”
Dylan stomped away, leaving Jaclyn alone with a supremely pissed-off Jim. He snatched the box and pulled out a syringe.
“If you drug me,” Jaclyn said quickly, “and Dylan doesn’t come back, who’s gonna carry me to your car? Pretty sure brute strength isn’t exactly your specialty.”
Her logic was the tipping point.
Jim dropped the syringe back in the box on the table. Dusting off his suit and straightening his tie, he sauntered over to her. “You know, you’ve got a big fucking mouth. You want brute strength? You’ve got it.”
His anger blazed in an explosive reaction as he backhanded her.
Jaclyn had taken a punch or two to the face over the years, oddly enough, from Dylan. Their sparring didn’t result in unintended injury on a regular basis, but in mixed martial arts training, it would happen every now and again. Having had that unpleasant experience before helped her to push past the discomfort. Knowing Jim for the deep-down pussy he truly was, she’d fully expected the blow.
Richard’s words had proven true again. Pricks are predictable.
Jim’s douchebag move had delivered the advantage she needed—getting the glasses to her hands. Using the guise of pathetic sobbing, she threw herself facedown as she worked to free herself from the handcuffs, keeping her handiwork hidden under the drape of her long hair.
“Shut up!” Jim snapped.
She buried her face deeper in the disgusting couch, needing another second or two to jimmy the lock. “Please,” she said pitifully, “don’t hit me again.”
Okay, she might have overacted just a smidge, but feigning full-on bullshit wasn’t her forte. Fortunately, Jim was too distracted to notice. He stared toward the doorway as footsteps approached.
“Dylan, I knew you’d—”
But Dylan hadn’t returned. It was Richard whose wide shoulders blocked the door.
Jim spun around to grab Jaclyn. Without her shackles, her freed hands packed quite the punch. From her still seated position, she gave it all she had, right into his balls. The blow forced him to double over.
Richard grabbed a syringe and held it up to Jaclyn. “Tranquilizer?”
When she nodded, he gave Jim an assful of the potent cocktail as he writhed on the floor, moaning in pain. Within a minute, the man was out cold.
Richard took a knee before Jaclyn and cupped her face. “Are you all right?”
Her nodding head swung a little slowly, less an effect of Jim’s blow and more due to the residual drugs in her system. He helped her to her feet.
“Dylan might be—”
“We’ve already got him. And the handful of mall guards he hired as lookouts.” Richard held her steady. “Come on, we’re taking you home.”
Frustrated and more pissed off than she’d ever been, Jaclyn stood with him but dug in her heels as she shook her head. “He hit me.”
Richard held her close. “I know. But he’ll never do that again.”
When he tried to wrap his arm around her to lead her out, she wriggled away, remaining cemented in place. This time, when she spoke, she made sure her request was much clearer.
“He. Hit. Me.” She enunciated each word and glared.
* * *
Richard reluctantly gave in. Her dark demand was unmistakable.
Caressing her cheek, he searched her eyes and finally understood. And in a way, he’d make this right for her as no one else could. Jaclyn was entitled to her feelings, and every bit of full-blown retribution she desired. Hell, he’d wanted to kill the guy over a pathetic excuse of a threat, and this was much, much worse.
His lips curled up at the thought of another win-win. Jaclyn would get her payback, and he’d finally shed his squeaky-clean persona, letting his inner bad boy bust the fuck out.
With a peck to her head, he turned and scoured the room. Seeing something promising, Richard grabbed a few rolls of duct tape from a shelf and waved them toward her.
Jaclyn met his questioning gaze with dancing eyes and a wide diabolical grin.