A Just Deception (25 page)

Once inside the house, Isabelle ran up the steps to her room in search of privacy. She couldn’t face Seth right now. He’d want to pick up where they left off and, well, not going to happen. Nope. The only thing she needed now was time alone to think about repairing things with Peter and getting in touch with Sampson about the baby-brokering scheme. But, with Peter taking her car, she couldn’t go anywhere. And hadn’t he told her to never call Sampson from her cell phone?

She’d just call Peter, find out when he’d be back and then she’d find a pay phone to call Sampson. Excellent plan. Two birds, one stone. She flew into the bedroom, where Courtney sat on the bed reading a magazine and nearly rocketed off in surprise. “Isabelle! You scared me.”

She held out her hands as Courtney shook off the scare. “Sorry. So sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m not going to pop this baby because of it, but, wow, you just blasted in here.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She rushed to the dresser. “I…uh…need my phone. Important call.” She dialed Peter’s number, held the phone to her ear. One ring, two, three. Nothing.

Not taking her calls. Should have known. She jabbed the disconnect button, fired off a text and waited for his response. Come on. Come on.

“What is it?” Courtney asked.

Isabelle turned to her and saw the curiosity in those big blue eyes. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Is there an emergency?”

Yeah. A big one.
I just jettisoned the only guy that makes me feel like a living, breathing woman. The one who was man enough to keep working with me until he cracked the code
.

The full force of what she’d done finally hit her. By being an idiot, she’d annihilated her shot at what could possibly have been the most fulfilling relationship of her life.

“We had a fight.” Izzy continued to stare at her phone, but the panic—that pecking that ravaged her nerve endings—began to take hold.

Come on, Peter
.
Call me back
.
Please
.

“Who?”

“Uh. A friend.”

“The rich boy?”

“Yes.”

She shouldn’t have admitted that.

“Must have been some fight,” Courtney said.

Isabelle willed the phone to ring, but nothing came. He wouldn’t call her. She could 9-1-1 him and he’d call back in a second. No. No tricks. That wouldn’t be fair.

But was this fair? Ignoring her? Treating her like an expendable piece of meat? No. That wasn’t fair either. Yes, she’d hurt him. She knew that, but ignoring her? After she’d given herself over to him? She shouldn’t have done it. If she’d kept her emotions locked in the box—the damned box—she wouldn’t be feeling this…this…raging skewering of her heart.

She threw the phone on the bed. “Dammit.”

“Yikes,” Courtney said. “I’m guessing you and the rich boy are doing the nasty. Did he dump you?”

Wasn’t this perfect? Courtney trying to dissect this crazy situation. The irony of it was that Courtney had been dumped in the worst possible way and could probably relate.

“I screwed up and he won’t talk to me. And he took my car, so I can’t even try to get to him.”

A sob clawed free from the steel-plated box and Isabelle spun to the sealed window, stuck her face in the path of the sun’s rays and allowed the heat to penetrate. She would not cry.

Please call me back.

Who was this whimpering, pitiful girl? Images of herself as a fifteen-year-old girl standing in her uncle’s study with her pants down knifed into her brain.
That
was the pitiful girl. The scared one who didn’t know what to do as Kendrick pulled up his jeans while his father screamed at them.

This Isabelle, the grown up one, didn’t allow men to control her emotions. No. She kicked their asses. Emotionally and physically. Not much to be proud of, but still…

She counted three breaths and turned back to Courtney, but the panic continued to bubble, and tears formed in her eyes. Done. Cooked. No sense fighting it anymore.

She lowered her head into her hands. The air came too fast, her head spun, and her ribs ached.

Catch your breath
.

But the sobs came instead and her body shook with it, shattering over the agony, and, suddenly, Courtney was next to her, stroking her shoulders, offering comfort. All Isabelle wanted was her life back. Her house, her beach, heck, even her job.

She wanted Peter.

“This is stupid,” she said. “He probably just didn’t hear the phone. He has my car so he has to come back.”

She breathed deep, let the calm inch over her.

“He’s probably cooling off,” Courtney said. “Besides, I need him to come back, too.”

Huh? Isabelle swiped her hand over her face and shifted to Courtney. “How come?”

“Well, I was…uh…thinking…about what you guys said.”

Oh, please. Please.
“Yes?”

“About helping me?”

A burst of hope whipped at Isabelle, but she dialed it back. She snatched a tissue off the bedside table and blotted her face as her meltdown faded to the background. “Of course. You know we’ll help you.”

“Yeah. But, it’s bad.” She glanced at the closed door.

“Whatever it is, I’ll get you out of here. We’ll walk away. Right now.”

Shock. No. Pure joy lit Courtney’s face and her eyes turned a shimmering, sparkling blue. “You’d do that for me?”

This poor girl had grown so accustomed to being disappointed by people she didn’t trust kindness. They really did understand each other.

“Yes. We’d have to wait for Peter to bring my car back, but yes. Absolutely.”

“Uh. There’s a problem.”

“What’s that?”

The joy slipped away, and Isabelle sensed Courtney retreating. Giving in to the fear. No.
Don’t lose her.
She sat next to her on the bed, draped an arm over her shoulder. “You and I, we’re a lot alike. The world, at times, has been shitty to us. We’re survivors though. We always come back. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

Isabelle shut her mouth as Courtney’s mental war raged on. The only sound came from a bird outside the sealed window. Isabelle waited. Didn’t speak. Someone would give in.

“I have to sell my baby.”

The thundering behind Isabelle’s eyes wouldn’t stop. This was it. “What do you mean you have to sell her?”

“I told them I would. I’m so ashamed, but I didn’t know what else to do. The lady at the counseling center called it a private adoption. And when you have no job and no place to live, it makes sense. I was scared.”

“And the counseling center sent you here?”

“Seth and Kendrick made it sound like a perfect option. They said they’d support me, get me a doctor. Then after the baby came I’d walk away from here with some money. Plus, I could make a childless couple happy. It seemed like a no-lose situation.”

“Until you changed your mind?”

Courtney nodded. “I was afraid to tell them. I didn’t know what they’d do.”

“Well,” Isabelle said, squeezing her arm and standing up. “You’re not going to have to worry about that because I’m getting you out of here.”

Peter’s phone buzzed and he unclipped it from his belt. Two seconds later Billy’s went off. Peter checked his screen.
Oh, shit
. He’d missed a call and now a text from Izzy. A 9-1-1. He’d left her alone, without her car and she was in trouble. His heart nearly exploded because his worst fucking nightmare wouldn’t end.

Son of a bitch.
He snatched the keys off the dresser and hauled ass as he dialed.

“Right behind you,” Billy said.

Izzy’s phone barely rang before she answered. “Where are you?”

“At the motel. You all right?”

“Yes. Courtney just told me everything. We’re going to walk out of here together. She’s packing her things and I need your help when Seth tries to stop us.”

The guilt settled on him, nearly drove him into the ground. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I figured I could leave for an hour and get my head together.”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t know this would happen. I had a meltdown and unloaded on Courtney. She unloaded back.”

“Are you okay?”

“Let’s talk about it later. In private. Right now—”

“Yeah. We’re on our way. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

He bolted down the stairs, but hollered over his shoulder at Billy. “Follow me to the compound, but stay on the road. Don’t drive onto the property until I figure out what’s going on. I’ll open the gate for you with the remote Seth gave Izzy.”

Peter jumped into the Audi and started it. “You still there?” he asked Izzy.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. What’s happening?”

“It’s what we thought. Seth is running a black market baby ring. I have to call Sampson. Courtney is willing to talk to him.”

“Don’t hang up, Izzy. We’ll call Sampson once you’re both out of there.”

“No. I’ll be fine. We’re in our room. Call me when you get close. We’ll walk out and you can pick us up in front.”

He didn’t like hanging up. Not for one second. But she needed Sampson more than him right now. Sampson could get the cops crawling all over that place. The weight of Peter’s nine millimeter, hidden at his waist, reminded him he hadn’t gone completely loco. At least he remembered to grab it before he’d gone into that office and found Izzy with Seth.

“Izzy, don’t move from that room until I call you.”

“Seth is at the door,” she whispered. “I have to go.”

The line went dead.

“Shove that bag in the closet,” Isabelle whispered to Courtney. “I’ll get rid of him.”

Courtney leaped to her feet with amazing speed for a woman eight months pregnant. She stowed the duffle in the closet and dove into her bed. “Tell him I’m tired. Don’t say sick or he’ll have a doctor in here.”

The knock sounded again. “Isabelle? Courtney? Everything all right?”

Isabelle reached for the door, straightened up and gently pulled it open for him to see in the room. “Hi, Seth. Sorry. Courtney wasn’t decent.”

After spotting Courtney in bed he stepped into the room. “Are you sick?” His voice remained flat, like this was nothing but a bother.

“No. Just tired. Isabelle is keeping me company.”

Seth fired a glance at Isabelle still standing at the door. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. After Peter left, I came back to check on Courtney.” Isabelle grinned at him. “I was about to come back and see you.”

If his locked jaw were any indication, Seth wasn’t buying it. Not this time. He turned back to Courtney. “Lunch is ready. Why don’t you both come down and eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Courtney said.

“Courtney—” he began.

“Seth,” Isabelle said, “we had a late breakfast while you and Mary Beth were out.” She held the door open a little wider. The universal signal for get the hell out.

“Fine. We’ll save you some.”

“Thank you,” Isabelle said.

When he left, she shut the door and went to the closet to retrieve Courtney’s duffle. Her own bag sat on the floor packed and ready to go. She had never bothered taking the things out of it after switching rooms. Peter’s things! She wouldn’t be able to carry it all. He’d have to come back for them.

“Okay,” she said. “Peter is on his way. Billy too.”

“Who’s Billy?” Courtney threw the covers back.

Oh, right. She didn’t know about Billy. “I’ll explain later.”

She dialed Sampson. Peter had told her to hold off, but she needed something to do while waiting. Voice mail.
Figures
. She left a message that Courtney was willing to talk and they were leaving. Maybe they could sneak out without Seth knowing. They’d have to be quiet though.

The distinctive grind of a key sliding into a lock sounded and Isabelle ran back to the door and pulled just as the lock engaged.
No.

“Rich boy’s room,” Courtney said, her voice a hissing whisper.

Isabelle shoved open the pocket door only to find Seth pulling the bedroom door closed.

“No!”

“Yes,” he said from the other side of the door as he flipped the lock. “I’ll be back for you after lunch and we’ll finish what we started.”

She slammed her open hand against the door. “Unlock this. Now!”

He laughed. “Be ready for me, Isabelle.”

“Seth, open this door or I’ll call 9-1-1.”

“No you won’t,” he said, his voice fading as if he were walking away. “Courtney has a lot to lose if you do.”

“Seth!”

No answer. That rat bastard locked them up. The press of tight air closed in and she spun to face the window. Sealed. She gripped the doorknob behind her and concentrated on the cold metal.

“He locked us in,” Courtney said from the bathroom.

Isabelle snapped her head around. “Don’t worry.”

“Well, that’s kind of tough since we can’t get out.”

“Yes, we can.” Isabelle pushed by her and went to her suitcase where Peter had sewn lock-picking tools into the lining. She tore open the lining, pulled out what he called a tension wrench and the pick and held them up. “Pray I can do this.”

“What’s that?”

“Peter taught me how to pick a lock. If I can do this, we’re out of here.”

Her phone rang. Peter. She moved to the far corner of the room in case anyone with big ears was in the hall. Still, she’d keep her voice low.

“Are you here?”

“Two miles out. Get moving.”

“That might be a problem. Seth locked us in.”

“
What?
”

“I’m going to try and pick the lock, but if I can’t do it, you’ll have to get us out of here.”

“I’ll kill that son of a bitch. Forget the lock. I’ll kick in the door when I get there. You’re done, Izzy. Time to pack it up.”

“No, Peter. If I can get the door open, we’ll try and sneak out. It’ll give us a head start and, hopefully, by the time Seth comes back, we’ll be long gone. Let me work on this lock and I’ll call you back. If you don’t hear from me, expect us to come tearing out the front door in the next few minutes.”

She hung up, shoved her phone in her pocket and breathed in to let the oxygen clear her rioting mind.

Concentrate.

Imagining Peter standing next to her, instructing her as he’d done at the motel, Isabelle inserted the tension wrench into the lower part of the keyhole. She turned the wrench counterclockwise and it stopped. Wrong way. She turned it the other way and the cylinder gave a little.
That’s it. Clockwise.
She inserted the pick to the top of the lock.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Courtney asked.

“I’m trying to think here. Remember clockwise.”

“Why?”

“Just remember it.”

She focused on the pick, felt something on the end and assumed she’d hit what Peter called the pins in the lock. She needed to push the upper pin out of the cylinder before moving on to the next pin. A barely audible click sounded and the shock of actually succeeding hit her.

“That’s one,” she said. “I need to do the rest.”

After repeating the process for each pin, she glanced at Courtney. “Clockwise?”

Courtney nodded.

Isabelle turned the cylinder clockwise, hoping she was right or she’d have to start over.

The cylinder turned.

Tools still in hand, Isabelle jumped backward and waved her arms. She picked the lock. Not wanting to waste any more time, she turned to Courtney. “We’re going down the stairs and right out the front door. Don’t stop for anything. Can you carry your bag?”

Courtney nodded. “Let’s go.”

Isabelle opened the door and peeked out. No life. Perfect. With one finger against her lips, she jerked her head for Courtney to follow. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, “don’t stop. I can handle Seth. You just get out to the car.”

They moved down the hall and the sound of voices carried from the first floor. A dish clanged. They must all be in the kitchen at the back of the house. She picked up her pace, but made sure Courtney was still with her.

After inching down the staircase, they stopped at the bottom. To their right was the kitchen, to their left the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Isabelle heard Seth say and she nudged Courtney toward the front door only a few feet away.

Almost there
.
Please let Peter be pulling up
.

Seth stepped from the kitchen, spotted them and froze. “How the hell did you get out?”

Could they not get a break today? Isabelle swung to Courtney. “Go.”

“Hold it,” he said as she darted for the door.

Isabelle jumped between Seth and the younger woman. “I said go!”

“She’s not going anywhere.” He sidestepped and grabbed for Courtney, but Isabelle sent a sharp elbow to his ribs

“Uhhh.” He stumbled back, bumped the staircase and doubled over.

“Courtney, go,” Isabelle shouted, but Courtney stood poleaxed just feet from the door.

Seth sucked a deep breath and stood straight. “You stupid bitch.”

He faked a lunge at Courtney, but instead tackled Isabelle at her waist and they hit the floor with a
thwack
. Isabelle crashed onto her back, her breath catching with the force of the blow. Seth landed on top of her, recovered and tried to straddle her.

No
. She sat up, launched a hard palm punch under his chin.
Scrunch.
His jaw snapped back like a Pez dispenser. He rolled to the side, shaking his head.
Bastard
.

Isabelle sprang to her feet, glaring down at him. “I could have broken your neck. Now back off! I beat the crap out of Kendrick and I’ll do the same to you.”

Suddenly Mary Beth came flying from the kitchen. She stopped, glanced down at Seth and slowly retreated.

You’d better go back
.

On his knees, Seth slowly raised his head, eyes glowering. “Kendrick was a stupid fuck.” He looked to Courtney, then down at her protruding belly before raising his gaze to her face again. “I didn’t let Kendrick go, and I’m not letting you go either.”

Isabelle froze, but her mind raced. What did he mean? She concentrated on the words.
I didn’t let Kendrick go
. “You…Kendrick?”

Isabelle turned to Courtney. The young girl still stood motionless. What was she waiting for? “Go!”

Jolted, Courtney ran and groped for the doorknob.

Still on his knees, Seth shook his head hard, probably clearing the fog. Like cannon shot he bolted to his feet, lunged past Isabelle and grabbed for Courtney. “No!” He grasped Courtney’s baggy T-shirt and dragged her to one knee.

Isabelle tackled him from behind, chopping at his arm to loosen his grip on Courtney. He let go and they hit the floor again with Izzy’s arms wrapped around his knees.

Take him out
.
Take him out
.

“Run, Courtney.” Isabelle increased her grip on Seth because who knew what he’d do next.

She needed Peter. He should be here by now. Seth wrenched a leg free, kicked her hard in the shoulder. Her vision blurred as the pain exploded into her neck. Releasing her grip, she fell on her back.

Each jagged breath scraped at her throat like tiny slivers of broken glass.
Recover
.
Don’t let him win
.

She closed her eyes for a second, letting the fury build. She’d finish this.

“Ow!” Courtney cried.

Isabelle sprang to her knees. Seth had hold of Courtney’s ankle. The bastard would not win this.

Peter tore up the driveway.

Where were they?

He parked, left the car running and hauled ass. When he pushed open the front door, he crashed into Courtney with Seth hanging on to her leg.
Whoa!
Peter jammed his foot into Seth’s wrist and he howled in agony before rolling to his back.

A large duffel bag and Izzy’s suitcase had been thrown to the floor next to Courtney.

Izzy, on her knees, heaved for breath. Her head was down and he couldn’t see her face as Mary Beth tore around the kitchen doorway with something in her hand.

An iron skillet. Un-friggin’-believable.

He pulled his nine millimeter and lined up his shot. “I wouldn’t.”

She skidded to a stop.

“Good girl.” He jerked his head to Courtney. “Get in the car. Now!”

She snapped to attention and scooted behind him. His gun still on Mary Beth, he stepped forward to help Izzy, but she’d already gotten to her feet, her squinted eyes focused on Seth. She lunged for him, but Peter snaked an arm around her waist, and hauled her backward. “Leave him be. Billy will watch him until the cops get here. Sampson is on his way.”

The rage had gotten to her and his words didn’t penetrate. He knew the feeling.

Izzy pushed against his arm, her breaths coming in fast, hard grunts, and it took a hell of a grip to keep her from breaking away.

Her leg shot out in a wayward kick near Seth’s crotch. “You son of a bitch!”

Too bad she missed
.

“Ssshh,” he said dragging her to the door while his arm muscles strained against her. Damn she was strong. He kept his gun on Mary Beth and that skillet as they backed out the door.

Once on the porch, he hauled Izzy down the steps. “In the car.”

“I couldn’t get into the back,” Courtney said from the passenger side. “I’m sorry!”