Chill Page 3

  “Marcus!” She broke into a run, suddenly certain he wanted the gift but just didn’t know how to cope with it.

  “Isabella.” Zack caught her arm as she stepped onto the dance floor. “Dance with me, my dear.”

  She tried to pull away. “I have to talk to Marcus—”

  “He’s in a meeting.” Zack nodded toward Marcus, who was walking shoulder to shoulder with Simon.

  She groaned, knowing it would be a mistake to interrupt business. She would have to wait. Frustrated, she clutched the box. “I have to take this upstairs.”

  “I’ll hold it for you.” Zack plucked the box from her hand and slipped it inside his jacket pocket.

  “No.” She turned on him. “Please give that back to me. It’s very important.”

  Zack gave her a mischievous grin. “After you dance with me, my dear.”

  Fine. He was her date, after all. With a sigh, Isabella allowed him to pull her close and lead the dance. His hand slid down her lower back and she tensed, suddenly wishing she hadn’t agreed to Zack’s invite to the party. All she could think of was Daniel—how she’d trusted him and how it had ended. She’d thought she was getting the family she’d wanted, only to discover Daniel rooting through Marcus’s display of antiquities one evening. His love had been a lie, and she’d believed it.

  She’d been too desperate for security. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Daniel had helped her appreciate Marcus and his intense loyalty toward her, even if he couched it in terms of her being a professional asset. He never promised more than he gave her, and she appreciated that.

  She’d learned her lesson long ago about men who promised more than they were willing to give, and Daniel had been a big reminder. Marcus’s approach of promising nothing and delivering much suited her better, even if it was frustrating.

  Zack bent his head to brush his lips over her neck, and Isabella’s stomach roiled.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Isabella. I—”

  “I’m sorry, Zack.” She pulled back, out of his grasp. “I can’t do this.”

  He frowned. “Do what?”

  “Dance. I’m just…it’s too soon.”

  His brow furrowed, and then softened in understanding. “Ah, your old boyfriend. Ended badly?”

  She gave a slight nod. “I’m just not comfortable. Dancing is intimate. I’m not ready for that.”

  Zack smiled. “It’s no problem.” His voice was easy, not offended. “Why don’t we just grab a glass of champagne and head out to the terrace?”

  She stiffened. “I don’t think—”

  “I’m not going to try anything. I just want to get to know you.” He winked at her. “Marcus would shoot me if I did anything to you, and we both know it.”

  Isabella almost laughed at his comment. He was right. Having a date know she was under Marcus’s protection kept her absolutely safe.

  Zack grinned. “Ah, there’s that smile. Come on, let’s go. I’ll be good.” He tucked his hand around her elbow, and Isabella allowed him to guide her off the dance floor.

  His grip was light and unthreatening, but she still wanted to pull away. Maybe Roseann was right. Maybe she was more of a mess than she thought she was. God, what was she going to do without Roseann?

  “Out here.” Zack pushed open one of the patio doors and led her outside. There were a number of guests enjoying the balmy September evening, and Isabella relaxed when she saw how populated the terrace was.

  Zack led her to the railing and she leaned on it, surveying the expansive gardens so rare in the city. They were an architectural masterpiece on which Marcus prided himself. She inhaled the fresh scent of nature, of warm air, closing her eyes to get the full sensation.

  “I like your new necklace,” Zack said, startling her. “Family heirloom?”

  Isabella immediately tensed at Zack’s casual tone. It was too casual. Too intentional. “No.” She heard the shuffle of feet behind her, and then realized she couldn’t hear any conversations anymore.

  Were they alone?

  Fifteen people vanished in less than a minute?

  Isabella didn’t dare to turn around and acknowledge that she’d noticed the patio had been cleared, but dread began to creep down her arms.

  “Where did you get it? It’s quite unusual.” Again, the question was too casual.

  She turned her head slightly to look at him. He immediately gave her a warm smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. No. They were like the eyes of so many people in Marcus’s business. Cold. Calculating.

  He wanted the necklace.

  God, she should have known better than to listen to Marcus and advertise something she didn’t understand. What was the necklace? She had to warn Marcus. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “May I have my champagne?”

  “Of course.” Zack handed her a glass, and she took it, careful not to let her fingers brush against his.

  She took a small sip, as she frantically tried to think of a way to get back inside. Zack was between her and the building.

  “Isabella.” Zack moved closer, and she felt the threat in his pose. “Tell me about the necklace.”

  Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. “It was Marcus’s wife’s,” she lied. “He brought it out for me to wear.”

  Zack narrowed his eyes. “Was it?” His voice was soft, too soft.

  He knew she was lying. “I’m getting cold. Let’s go inside.”

  “No.” He grabbed her arm, and this time his fingers were digging in. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetness. I need that brain of yours and that necklace.”

  The pain shooting up her arm triggered something inside Isabella that hadn’t been alive for a long time. Terror.

  For an instant, she went numb, unable to resist as he started dragging her across the patio.

  But he stepped off the stones onto the grass, the stark reality snapped her back into focus. He was stealing her from her home!

  “No!” She whirled on him suddenly and smashed her champagne glass into his face.

  He howled with agony and released her to cradle his face as blood trickled through his fingers.

  Isabella whirled and sprinted into the house. She kicked off her heels and ran toward Marcus’s office. He had to be there. It was almost time for their meeting. And if he weren’t, at least Leon would be there and—

  Marcus flew out of the doorway to his office and crashed into the wall. He let out a groan and slumped to the ground.

  Isabella skidded to a stop and dove back around the corner, out of sight. Dear God! What was going on?

  Marcus grunted with pain, and she peeked around the corner, her heart pounding.

  Leon was striding down the hall toward them from the other direction, and she sagged with relief. Leon would save him—

  “We lost the girl,” Leon said. “We need to find her.” Then he turned toward Marcus, and hauled him to his feet. “Is she wearing the real thing, or a fake?”

  Marcus just leveled a cold stare at his best man. “Fuck off.”

  Leon scowled and slammed his gun into Marcus’s stomach.

  Isabella sucked in her breath. Leon was involved? He was the only one she trusted and—

  Footsteps raced down the hall toward her, and she whirled around. Shit! She ducked into the room and pressed the door shut as someone ran past.

  “Did she come this way?” Zack barked. “She was heading for Marcus’s office.”

  “No,” Leon answered. “Get Marcus to the car while we find Isabella. Don’t shoot him yet. We need him alive until we find the necklace and Isabella.”

  Don’t shoot Marcus yet? Dear God, what was going on? Isabella raced toward the window and unlocked it. She popped the screen and stuck her head out. No one was around. She slipped outside and ran down the patio stairs toward the kitchen.

  She sneaked inside the kitchen, and then froze when she heard screams.

  “Where the hell did she go?”

  She recognized the voice of another of Marc
us’s men, and Isabella moved behind a shelf, wanting to see who else she couldn’t trust. She peeked through the boxes of flour in time to see Nate Sampson, one of Marcus’s top retrievers, raise his gun and point it across the room. “Tell me where she is.”

  “I don’t know! I swear I don’t know!”

  Isabella gasped at the sound of Roseann’s voice. Her friend was huddled against the wall, her eyes wide with terror.

  She couldn’t let them hurt Roseann and the baby! Isabella leapt to her feet to run around the shelf.

  “Then you’re useless.”

  “Wait! I’m right here!” Her shout was drowned out by the explosion of a gun going off, and then Roseann was sprawled on the kitchen floor, a red stain oozing out from under her upper body.

  Isabella gasped and went down on her knees, unable to stand. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  “Isabella has to be around here somewhere,” Nate said. “Find her.”

  A man moved past the shelf, mere feet away, jerking Isabella out of her stupor. She lurched to her feet and backed toward the door, unable to take her gaze off the slumped figure of her best friend. Her only friend.

  She heard another gunshot in the distance and more screaming. From the party guests.

  More dead?

  She had to get away. Escape. Find help.

  There was only one way to get out. One hope. A dead end if Leon thought about it and got there first.

  She slipped through the kitchen door, hoisted up her dress, and broke into a frantic run toward the south garage. Did Leon know about the SUV Marcus kept in bay five? Did he know she knew about it?

  She was deep in the gardens when she heard a shout. “She’s in the yard! Get out there!”

  Isabella ran harder, her bare feet getting sliced on the sharp rocks. Her dress caught on a bench and she went down hard on her knees. Shouts echoed behind her, and then the gardens were flooded with light.

  She ducked beneath the thick foliage and scurried along behind the shadows. Less than two hundred feet from her destination.

  “She’s heading toward the garage!”

  Isabella abandoned hiding and broke into a run again. Her lungs were burning, and she heard more shouts. No guns, though. They needed to keep her alive so they could ask her about the necklace, she realized.

  She yanked open the heavy door and ran inside, then threw the deadbolt. She only needed a moment. A fraction of a second to disappear.

  She ran across the polished floor. Something slammed into the door she’d just locked. Angry shouts. The door rattled again.

  The tool cabinet was up ahead. She grabbed the drill and two screwdrivers and jammed them into holes in the side of the cabinet exactly how Marcus had showed her.

  A gunshot made her jump, and they rattled the door again. Shooting off the lock. Two more shots would do it. That was what Marcus had told her. Three shots to get through it and then she’d be out of time.

  She wiggled the screwdriver in the hole, but nothing happened. Crud!

  Another gunshot. Metal on metal.

  They tried the door again.

  “Come on!” She wiggled the screwdriver again, and this time the bottom eighteen inches of the back wall of the storage cabinet slid away. “Yes!”

  She dropped to her knees and shoved tools aside.

  The third shot rang out.

  She wiggled past the paint cans and squeezed through the opening. The door rattled, and Isabella reached into the cabinet to return the tools.

  The door opened, and she leapt back and slid the back wall of the cabinet back into place.

  There was a faint light in the cavernous garage, and she could see the outline of the SUV Marcus had stashed here. He’d said it was loaded with everything she would need to get away. The car was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition, just as Marcus had said they would be.

  But as the engine roared to life and the steel garage door rolled open behind her, she was filled with a sudden sense of wrongness. She dropped her head to the steering wheel, her chest too tight to breathe. How could she leave Marcus and Roseann behind? What would happen to them? What—

  The cabinet slammed open and Leon’s head emerged. They stared at each other for a long moment.

  The man Marcus had trusted with her life and his own.

  He smiled, a special smile she recognized from so many shared jokes. “Isa,” he called out. “It’s all okay now. I’ve taken care of them. Are you okay?”

  Isabella’s heart lurched. God, to have it be over…“Leon—” Then she saw his right hand was hidden, out of sight.

  He’d never hidden his gun from her before.

  He was lying.

  She jammed the truck into reverse and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The truck flew backward up the ramp. Leon shouted. He whipped out his gun and fired. A bullet bounced off the hood of the SUV.

  And another.

  And another.

  Then she was outside, in the dark silence of early morning in Boston.

  She threw the gearshift into drive as Leon raced up the ramp toward her. He raised his gun and aimed right for her. A lethal shot.

  The truck lurched forward, the passenger window shattered, and pain ricocheted up her shoulder. Isabella gasped at the agony, and the truck careened across the road.

  “Come on!” She grabbed for the steering wheel, yanked the truck back toward the yellow line and floored the accelerator.

  She didn’t wait to see how long it would take for them to run around the house to their cars parked out front.

  She just gunned it and raced for her life.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Isabella tensed as the Hummer skidded around the sharp turn of the highway on-ramp. The truck’s rear slid out and its front end careened straight toward the guardrail. She hauled the steering wheel to left, the truck bounced back up on the road and she slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the breakdown lane.

  She was shaking so badly she could barely get the gearshift into park. She draped her arms over the steering wheel and dropped her forehead to the cool leather, trying to calm down.

  But despair and grief welled up and burst free. She pressed her palms to her eyes, rocking back and forth as the sobs shattered her defenses. Was Marcus dead? Was Roseann? What about her baby? Were Leon and Nate after her?

  Of course they were.

  She couldn’t stop. It wasn’t over. She needed to get help. But where? Whom could she turn to?

  Not Leon.

  Not the police. She knew enough about Marcus’s business to know she couldn’t bring the police in.

  She had to pull it together. Focus.

  Who would help her? Who could she trust?

  Isabella looked down at the necklace. Answers were in there. She quickly started the truck and drove a half mile to the service area ahead, hiding her vehicle behind an eighteen-wheeler.

  She put the cark in park, then turned her attention to the necklace. Her hands were trembling so much it took three tries to unfasten it. She turned on the interior light and began to inspect it. She needed to know what was so important about the piece that Leon would shoot her.

  God. He’d shot her. Her shoulder was throbbing, but she forced herself to ignore it. No time to be hurt.

  Instead, she carefully assessed the jewels, but found nothing unusual. She flipped the necklace over…and found a little mark by the clasp.

  Please, God, don’t let it be what I think it is.

  Her hand trembling, she looked more closely at the necklace. The etching was a double X, carved in a style only one man had ever used. An artist who had switched over to jewelry in a stroke of genius. He’d made only three pieces before he was murdered: a necklace and a pair of earrings. His tribe had converged to protect his legacy, and they had held on to those three items for centuries, killing anyone who tried to take them. Eventually, the tribe had dissolved, and the jewelry had been declared missing.

  They were priceless—for the stones, the design
and their rarity.

  “Oh, God.” She pressed her hand to her chest, which was too tight to breathe, the truck beginning to spin, her vision starting to darken. This was what Marcus had gotten them involved in?

  People like Zack were just the start. And Leon…dear God. How much money was it really worth? Enough to make him turn on Marcus? And now she had it. People would be after her. Chasing her. Her shoulder throbbed. What would Leon do to Marcus to force her to give it back? He’d said Marcus needed to be alive only until she turned it back in.

  If she went back, Marcus would die. And probably she would, too.

  She pressed her hands to her head, trying to think, trying to focus. How did she save Marcus? Herself? Make the nightmare go away and leave them alive? She was so out of her depth. There had to be something she could do. Someone who could help.

  But only Marcus would understand what they were facing. Marcus or—

  She sat up, her hands clenching the steering wheel. Marcus’s son.

  From everything she’d heard about him, he would understand the severity of the situation, and he had the skills she needed. Marcus had even said the necklace had once been his special project. But he would never help his father. The hate ran so deep…

  Marcus’s son would never knowingly save his father’s life, or his business, or help anyone associated with him.

  But what if she asked for help but didn’t tell him why, until he was too deep to get out? It was her only chance. It had to work.

  Marcus’s son was going to be difficult to fool, which was why he had been so good at his job.

  But she had to try.

  Without him…

  She glanced at the necklace resting on the seat beside her, and knew the red stone wasn’t a ruby. It was the lifeblood of everyone who had ever touched it.

  And hers would be next, unless she could convince the one man in the world who wouldn’t help her, to do exactly that.

  And the moment she made contact with him, his life would be on the docket as well.

  She hesitated at the thought. How could she endanger someone else?

  But she knew she had to.

  Somewhere out there, Marcus was being held by the men who had killed Roseann. She had to do something. From all she’d heard, Marcus’s son could take care of himself.