No Place to Run (3 page)
They left the rows of shabby houses and turned onto a winding dirt road that led into the hills surrounding the remote town. When finally they approached the stern spires that guarded her father’s compound, the driver slowed and then punched a series of commands into the remote installed in the dash.
The heavy iron gate swung open to admit them, and they zoomed rapidly up the paved driveway. A thick line of trees obscured the view of the sprawling house, and in fact there was only a small hole through the dense line, where the car seemingly disappeared into a forest, only to burst through the other side to a sight that was deceptively idyllic.
To a little girl, it had been fairyland. She hadn’t been that little girl in a long time.
Instead of pulling around front where the circle drive surrounded a huge fountain, the driver parked at the side of the house, under an awning that sheltered three other armored vehicles.
He opened the door, and Sophie blinked at the wash of sunshine that slapped her in the face. She stepped out and glanced up at the driver.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” he asked in a low voice.
She merely nodded, not trusting that she wouldn’t be overheard if she responded.
“I’ll be waiting.”
This time she didn’t react. She walked past the driver and inserted her security card into the slot beside the door leading into the house. Her father would be alerted to her presence, and he’d be waiting for her. He never came to her. She was expected to go to him and give a report just like any of his employees.
A maid met her in the hallway to her father’s office. Sophie didn’t meet her gaze. The maid stared straight ahead, but as Sophie approached, the maid reached under her apron and handed a small bag to her as she passed.
It was a designer handbag, something her father would expect her to have. He’d probably bought this one. She tucked it under her arm and stopped in front of the double door at the end of the corridor.
She raised her hand to knock but stopped in midair. She shook from head to toe, and sweat beaded her forehead. Each breath seemed dragged from her, heavy and sluggish. Her heart thumped wildly, until she was sure it was audible in the silence.
Swallowing back her fear, she squared her shoulders and knocked. She’d need every bit of composure she could muster. Her father could spot weakness in a second.
The doors opened automatically, and she stepped forward. Miraculously her fear subsided when she looked across the room to see her father standing against the huge picture window. It, like everything, was deceptive. What looked like a foolhardy extravagance for a man as wanted as he, was in actuality a one-way reflective plate of the highest-tech bulletproof material available. It wasn’t even on the market yet.
He could see out, but no one could see in.
“Sophie, you have information?”
The casual way in which he posed the question didn’t in any way fool her. Her father wasn’t casual about anything. He was coldly aloof and calculating. He didn’t expect obedience. He demanded it. With chillingly positive results.
She glanced around the room, searching out the position of his guards. There were two inside. At least a dozen outside. Each willing to give his life for the man who owned him. Today she was happy to accommodate them.
“I do have something that might interest you,” she murmured.
He raised a speculative eyebrow as if he couldn’t believe she’d proven useful. She made a show of opening her handbag as if she had something to give him.
Her fingers slid over the rubber stock of the gun, and then one finger curled over the cool metal trigger. In a lightning move, she turned and shot through the bag, downing the first guard. Before the second could react, she fired again, the heavy plunk of the bullet as it smacked his neck the only sound in the room.
The bag fell away, revealing the long barrel of the silencer. Her father stared unflinchingly at her.
“What is this, Sophie?”
She wasn’t talking to the bastard. No stupid games. She had precious seconds to make her getaway before all hell broke loose on his command.
She raised the pistol, and just before she fired, she saw the surprised shock in her father’s eyes. He fell heavily, blood spreading on the polished wood floors.
She yanked the knife from her pocket and rushed over to where he lay. Shoving the collar of his shirt down, she reached for the leather thong that circled his neck and slashed it free.
The thin cylindrical piece of metal lay against his skin, smeared with his blood. She grabbed it, then went to his desk and felt for the button underneath.
Across the room a panel of the floor slid open, revealing a staircase leading down into the underground network of pathways.
Without a single glance back, she hit the stairs running. She’d spent months memorizing the layout. She knew every path, every turn by heart even though she’d never been below. Relying on those long hours of studying the computerized plans, she made her way to the exit where the driver waited for her.
Ten minutes later, she rushed into the sun and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the car there waiting. He hadn’t betrayed her.
He ushered her inside, and when she was settled in the back, he glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
“It is done?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Thank you for helping me.”
The slight incline of his jaw was the only acknowledgment he gave her, as he gunned the engine and roared off. She never looked back. There was nothing for her there.
As the miles passed, she let herself relax. And she dared to hope the impossible.
Freedom.
Finally, she was free.
CHAPTER 3
Five months laterSOPHIE throttled back and the boat slowed, coming to a near standstill in Kentucky Lake. Darkness shrouded her. The sky was overcast. New moon. Only one or two stars poked through the cloud cover. She was running with no lights and keeping to the middle of the lake until she was sure she was close enough to her destination to move quickly to shore.
She studied the small handheld GPS and then lifted her gaze up the shoreline to the north. According to her coordinates, her destination was another mile down the lake.
She swallowed her fear and nervousness and automatically put her hand on her belly in a soothing motion. Would Sam even be there? How would he react to seeing her again? What would he say when he knew the truth about her?
She glanced nervously over her shoulder into the darkness. The lake was a slosh of midnight ink. The only sound she could hear was the low chop against the hull of her boat.
Her nerves were shot. She knew she was taking a risk, but she was out of options. Her uncle’s cronies were closing in on her. She could smell them. She could feel them in every part of her body. There’d been too many close calls in the last weeks.
A smart woman recognized when she could no longer do things on her own. She considered herself a smart woman, which was why she was here. In a damn boat on a damn lake trying to find the father of her baby so hopefully he could protect them both.
After five months of running, the idea of being in such a vulnerable place scared her witless. True, it wasn’t as if she drove boldly into Dover, asked where to find Sam Kelly and then parked in front of his house. She had that much sense. Sam would be the first person her uncle expected her to run to. Which was why she’d stayed away for so long.
And then there was the fact that neither she nor Sam had been honest with the other. Both had been other people. The only real thing between them had been the intense desire. She’d fallen fast and she’d fallen hard.
For a man who’d despise her once he learned the truth.
She eased the boat forward, following the line on her GPS. With any luck, she’d dock right in Sam’s backyard and hope to hell she didn’t get shot for trespassing.
A noise ahead and to the left alerted her. Her head rose and she stared, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in the chilly night air.
A sudden blast of light blinded her. She threw up her arm to shield her face, but it was no use.
The roar of an engine accelerating kicked her self-preservation into gear. Without hesitation, she dove overboard. She smacked into the cold water and felt the shock to her toes.
The larger boat hit hers with a resounding crack. Debris flew into the air and pelted the water all around her. A huge chunk hit the surface in front of her and blew water over her head.
Her mouth filled with water, and she pushed it out before rolling to swim toward shore. She hadn’t gotten a full breath, and already her lungs were tight with the need for air.
She surfaced and sucked in a huge breath. Pain exploded in her arm, and she inhaled another mouthful of water. Shock splintered with needle-like awareness. She touched her arm and felt warmth. Liquid warmth.
Blood.
Son of a bitch had shot her! Terror hit her like a sledgehammer. She fought to keep her panic at bay. She had to hold it together. Why the hell had he shot her?
Her hair went straight upward, and her neck popped back as a hand yanked her out of the water. She banged over the side of a boat, and she had the presence of mind to wrap her arms protectively around her middle.
Her baby. She had to protect her baby.
She landed with a crash on the deck of the boat and squinched her eyes shut against the beam of light shining into her face.
“Get up.”
She cracked open one eye and stared up at the man looming over her. She glanced around and saw no one else.
“Go fuck yourself.”
He kicked her in the arm and agony ricocheted through her body. Then he reached down, curled his hand in her hair and hauled her upright.
If he hadn’t still been holding her, she would have gone down. Her legs refused to cooperate. Her arm was on fire and hung loosely at her side.
“Where is the key, Sophie?”
“Look, I don’t even know you,” she spit out. “You don’t get to call me by my first name. Or at all. Do you think I’m stupid enough to carry it around with me?”
A flash of silver caught her gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the wicked curve of a very sharp blade. The she raised her gaze higher and saw cold determination in the face of the assassin.
Forcing bravado into her voice, she said, “If you kill me, you get squat.”
“A fact you’re counting on I’m sure,” he said in a flat tone. “My orders are to make you talk. Any way that has to happen. Trust me, you’ll talk.”
She swallowed and sucked in air through her nostrils. God, what was she going to do? She’d been so close to Sam. So damn close.
All these months, all this time, she’d stayed to the shadows, always one step ahead of her father’s grasp. Even dead, he held her by the throat. Her uncle would carry on his legacy of selling death. There was always someone willing to take up the reins.
But without access to her father’s wealth and his resources, Tomas was crippled. She planned to keep him that way.
The man hauled her close, his breath blowing hot across her face. She felt the edge of the knife against her belly and bile rose sharp in her throat.
“You won’t die. Not at first. But your baby will. Tell me what I want to know or I’ll slice you open and let your child spill out of your belly.”
Her stomach revolted and she gagged, the knot so big that she choked. Tears stung her eyes, and then rage blew hot like the first wave of a blast.
“You son of a bitch,” she bit out.
She’d had enough. The fact that she was constantly underestimated usually worked in her favor, but this guy seemed smarter than the other assholes her father employed. Indeed he was smarter than her father, who hadn’t believed she’d shoot her own flesh and blood.
This bastard wasn’t going to give her any easy passes because she was cute and blond and innocent-looking. Which meant she had to rely on sheer grit and determination if she was going to keep her baby alive.
“All right, I’ll tell you,” she gasped out. “Put the knife away.”
“I like it just where it is.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy.
She was careful not to glance down, not to even twitch. No advance warning when she made her move. She waited until she nearly jittered out of her skin. There. The knife eased just a bit and no longer bit as hard into her skin.
She rammed her knee into his balls and crashed her elbow down onto his wrist. The knife clattered to the deck and she kicked it hard, sending it spiraling across the boat.
He grabbed her by the neck, his fingers digging deep into her skin despite the fact he was hunched over holding his balls with his free hand.
His hand squeezed mercilessly, cutting off her air supply.
She was going to die.
Here on a boat probably not far from where Sam lived. On the lake, to make the disposal of her body easier. At the hands of an asshole who talked about murder like he would the weather.
Rage. Red-hot and searing. It splintered through her veins like volcanic fury.
Faking surrender, she let every muscle in her body go limp. Maybe it caught him off guard, or maybe he expected her to fight, because his grip eased.
Harnessing her anger, she bolted forward, throwing herself against the asshole. Forearms across his chest, she shoved, putting every ounce of her strength behind her movements.
He staggered backward, his feet stumbling to catch up with the rest of him. His hands flew up, and he tried to grab the railing.
She jumped on him, and they both went over the side.
The cold water hit her like a ton of bricks.
Down she went into the darkness. She fought off panic and struck out, swimming away from the boat. Several yards out, she broke the surface, gasping for breath.
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