Chapter Ten

 

 

 

Devon picked up his phone on the third ring. “What?”

“We have her. She’s been going by a fake name.”

The glass of bourbon he’d been sipping fell from his hand and spilled all over his designer slacks. “You’re joking.”

“I assure you that I’m not.”

He pushed the woman away who tried to dry him. “Where?”

“We have her on a train in Europe. We have men in the area. I’ve already sent them to board the train.”

The guy sounded sure, but Devon had been led down this road by the same man. He calmed his instant urge to grin and kept his excitement to a minimum, recalling Vietnam and that situation. “You’re a hundred percent certain it’s her?”

“That kind of certainty isn’t plausible, but I’m certain enough to get her into a more private location. If she is or isn’t Nicole Masterson, we can determine after a very brief time.”

If it was Nicole… He took a moment to blink his life back into focus. “We take her.”

“Very good.”

“If it’s her, we have her open the vaults and we’re golden.”

“Yes. If this is Nicole, she can do that and anything else you might want.”

Anything else I might want, like for her to pay for my past twenty years of misery, maybe even on her knees. Wouldn’t that be rich? Nicole Andros on her knees like any other cock-sucking whore. “Get her. I don’t care if it’s not her. Bring the woman to me.”

“And if it’s not her?”

He laughed. “If she looks like Nicole, I’m sure I’ll find something for her to do before I kill her.” He pulled over the clear vial of the super-sex drug. If the files on this shit were true, he’d be a billionaire without having to take Nicole’s fortune. But it wasn’t the money he was really after. It was revenge, the need to hurt her as badly as he’d been hurt that rode him. He tipped the tiny bottle and watched the amber liquid float to the opposite end. “Get her to me. I can handle the rest myself.”

“Consider it done.”

“I do. Deliver this time.”

“I always deliver.” The guy cut the line before Devon could remind him he hadn’t the first time around. Still, Devon could hear the conviction in his voice.

Money. It always delivered. Spend enough, and he always got results. Yeah, it cost a fortune, but it wasn’t his fortune he was going to be spending soon. Even if this isn’t Nicole, maybe I can use her, train her to act like Nicole, maybe rescue her from some remote hospital, bring her in and fool them all. But if it is Nicole? He poured himself another drink and downed it. Revenge is going to be sweet. He fisted his hand around the glass and, for the first time in months, he laughed. It felt good.

 

* * * *

 

Andy worried her pencil one more time and finally couldn’t take it any longer. Smith had left again. Ian was drilling holes into her cranium with his staring. She pulled her earbuds free and let them dangle.

“All done. Now, I need a nap.”

Ian lifted an arrogant eyebrow. Gone were the signs of him losing his temper. Instead, something much scarier had been brewing beneath his cool exterior. Her heart was beating fast enough to make her stomach sick. She regretted her lunch and, even more, getting on this train.

“That’s too bad, Ms. Nico—”

“I prefer Andy.”

“Andy. A nickname?”

“Well, most Americans get Andrea wrong, so Andy is better.”

He studied her as if her answer somehow held more meaning than she wanted. The need to run was building. If she had to sit here with him staring at her with that brooding expression on his face for another minute, she might explode. She couldn’t do that, so she tried for pissing him off enough to get him out of the cabin.

“You’re not American?” he asked.

She stretched her arms over her head and twisted left then right until her back popped, then she slumped down on the seat. Ignoring him had never occurred to her when they’d been married. She would drop everything for him—anything, anytime, anywhere. Not that he’d taken advantage of that, but whatever he’d wanted, she’d given it. She was fair enough to know he’d done the same for her, until he’d stopped. Now, ignoring him felt so good, so sweet that she dragged it out even longer to study him in turn. His jaw was bulging again.

“I was at one point. I’m not sure if I will be for much longer,” she said.

“You hold an American passport. In some parts of the world, that is worth a ton of money.”

Of course, he would say that. He must be like Smith, a soldier. He put his life in danger for people, for our country, but he lied to me. Where’s the hero in that? “In some parts of the world it could get me killed.”

She caught his lips twitch before he deepened his scowl. He’d stretched out on the bench that ran along one wall. It was big enough for him to rest his head on a few cushions and cross his long legs. The position made his jeans bunch up distractingly at his hips. It had been so long since she’d had sex that she could barely remember the feel of his warm skin on hers. But she could recall every detail of her husband’s big, thick, long cock. It was striking how big he was, and she’d compared since—online, of course—but a girl had to know. Now she knew. No one equaled him—only someone did, because she’d never let him touch her again, not after he’d let another. I was right there. Right there. And he went to someone else.

“You really are a smart-mouth.” His gaze focused on her lips let her know exactly what he would prefer to do to her mouth.

In his dreams. I might have gone down for him before, but I will never touch him again.

“I do try.” Her snap was rewarded with him meeting her eyes. She hoped he saw how little chance he had of enjoying that act with her. “Now, once we get to Paris, I expect this to be done.”

He laughed and sat up so suddenly that she got a shiver in those places he used to touch.

“Why would this”—he gestured to his chest then pointed at her—“end in Paris?”

“Well, I have a life to get back to—work, stuff. I can’t pal around with you and Mr. Smith, if that’s even his name.”

“It’s his name.” He sounded tired. “This won’t end. You resemble a woman that—”

She heard a thud against the door. The next second Ian was there, gun out, pushing her behind him.

“What do you think—?”

He motioned for silence with a hiss. She bit her lip, suddenly realizing this was more than being caught by her ex-husband or his lies—or his secret life. Has Devon found me? How can this be? I was safe. I started over!

But she knew. In the bathroom, she’d done more than pee. The clinic was closing. Her identity had taken several hits, all hard and deep. So far, the probes hadn’t gained anything, but the doctor was burning her records, leaving his clinic and taking his staff with him. He’d assured her nothing would be found if anyone went there. If she held out, she’d be able to walk away from this. Only now, she wasn’t so certain that was true.

“Stay right there,” he ordered. His scruffy, handsome face was tight with something. She wasn’t certain what it was, but she wanted to grab hold of him with a desperation that surprised her.

A blast hit the room. She crouched and covered her ears as freezing air filled their cabin. The snowy mountains flew by, clear and bright, missing the glare from the now-shattered window.

Before the reality of that had completely sunk in, Ian pushed her into the bathroom and twisted to slam the door shut, but not before she saw him attack two men, shooting one, then nailing the other with a vicious punch to his face.

Alone and terrified, she sank down on the toilet and hugged her knees to her chest, tears blurring her vision. If he dies, what then? I’ll never find out why he lied to me. I’ll never get to see him smile again or feel him hold me.

Something thudded against the door. She jumped to her feet then froze when she heard a shout from the other side of the door followed by a muffled cry. Both were accompanied by crashing sounds, as if the entire cabin were being smashed by elephants. Silence suddenly registered, but her heartbeat was too loud and that made it impossible to hear anything else.

The door jerked open so quickly that she couldn’t hold back a scream. At the sight of Ian, wild-eyed but alive, her eyes stung and blurred under a wash of tears.

“It’s okay.” He wiped a wrist over his mouth, leaving a smear of blood behind on his cheek. Otherwise, he didn’t appear harmed, merely winded.

The two men at his feet were bloody and unmoving. One of them had a red stain spreading out from the center of his chest.

“Is he—” She had to stop and swallow. “Is he…?”

“Come on. It’s okay. Come on.” Steven’s tone was so gentle that she latched on to it and the hand he held out. His calloused palm was familiar, strong and sure. He pulled her to her feet. Through the sweat and blood, the redness in his eyes and the shadow of his scruffy beard, she saw her husband, his gaze as firm and steady as always. “Time to go.”

“But—”

“There’s no time for ‘buts’. Go.”

She was propelled forward but stopped and wiggled free to rush back past the broken door for her laptop and bag.

“We don’t have the time or the—”

“I’m not leaving this.” That was her life now—her computer and everything in her backpack. “Now we can go.”

He growled something under his breath that she didn’t try hard to hear, but he also turned her to the rear of the train and shoved, none too gently, on her shoulder. “Go, as fast as you can.”

“Where’s Smith?” She narrowly avoided a woman with a young man. “Sorry, sorry,” she called.

Ian kept thrusting her forward and probably knocked the guy over. He didn’t slow, and when she reached the next car, he pulled her into the connection and stopped. Being alone again was eerie and so was the door to the outside that revealed miles and miles of snow and the snowy peaks of the mountains. They were going slow—uphill now—and the expanse of new-fallen snow looked like a soft cloud of icing on a cake.

“I don’t know where Smith is. We have to get off this train, Nicole.”

Her stomach hit her toes, even though she’d had a crazy sense that he was going to say that. She would have pinched herself, but this was all too real. He was too real. “You mean at the next station, right?”

He ignored her and opened the door, blasting them both with frigid, icy wind. “We’re not waiting on the station. We jump.”

“Are you nuts?” She pressed herself tight to the opposite wall. “And it’s Andy! I’m not Nicole, you stupid asshole!” She took hold of the safety bar with both hands. “I’m not jumping from a train because you think I look like your ex-wife!”

Something slammed into the wall above her head. She turned and there was a bullet hole in the train’s plastic siding, not an inch away.

“Oh my God.” Her stomach gave a lurch, and, for a second, she thought she might vomit up her Doritos.

The next second, all she understood was that Ian had her hand. Then, without pausing, they were falling through the open door.

Andy had one moment to scream, but the icy wind tore it away.