Red Handed (22 page)

Overcome with emotion, she glanced away from Cole, and her eyes locked with Rinaldi's across the dungeon.

He pointed to his watch and mouthed the words that had kept her awake at night.

Tick-tock.

Danielle's stomach dropped like a dead weight, and her throat tightened as if Logan was winding his rope around it. She didn't want to do this. She wasn't ready. Panicked, she searched the room for a sign—any sign—that would tell her what to do.

Adrian approached with two cups of water and left them on the side table next to the couch. As Cole and he spoke, she toyed with her locket, quickly and surreptitiously opening it and depositing the pills into her hand. Her heart twisted, and tears burned her eyes.

When Adrian left, Cole handed her one of the cups. “Here, drink your water.”

She accepted it, took a sip, and stretched across Cole, returning the cup to the table.

She had no choice.

She knew what she had to do.

She brought her lips to Cole's and savored him, the flavor of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the groan ripped from his throat.

His eyes were closed.

Hers were open wide.

She dropped the pills into the untouched cup of water and watched as they dissolved without a trace.

Nausea, swift and strong, rolled through her. She tore herself away from the kiss. “You should drink too.”

His gaze bounced between her and the cup. “No thanks, I'm good.”

Did he suspect? A huge part of her was hoping he did. That he wouldn't accept the drink. That the choice would be taken from her hands. But the other part of her knew if she didn't convince him to take this drink, the kidnappers would kill Tasha and possibly Cole. Drugging him would save his life. He'd have to understand. She'd make him understand.

She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and looked up at him with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. “I'd drink it if I were you. You don't want to get dehydrated when you fuck me.”

He returned the smile as he lifted a cup. “You're right.”

Ten seconds later, he'd drunk it all. He wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and grimaced. “The water has a sour aftertaste.” His eyes widened, and he crushed the plastic cup in his hand.

“Are you okay? Cole what's wrong?”

He wrapped his hand around the front of his neck. “My throat is closing up. What did you do?” His eyes rolled back into his head, and his body slumped on the couch.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“C
OLE
.” S
HE SHOOK
him by his shoulders and got no response. “Help! Somebody help!” Guilt swamped her as she quickly slipped her hand into his pocket and retrieved his key ring, wrapping her fingers around it to conceal it the best she could.

Suddenly, Gracie and Adrian were there, and Danielle jumped off his lap. Gracie kneeled on the couch besides Cole and placed two fingers on his neck, seemingly checking for a pulse. “What happened?”

Danielle shook so hard she could barely stand. “He said his throat was closing.”

Gracie put her hand in front of Cole's nose and mouth then dragged him to the floor and tilted his head back. “Someone call 911. He's not breathing.” She covered his mouth with hers and blew air into him.

She'd killed him. She'd thought she was helping him, but instead she'd killed him.

People gathered around her, and a couple members proclaiming their status as doctors went over to assist Gracie with chest compressions.

She had to get out of here. There was something she had to do . . .

With her hand over her heart, she took a step backward. Then another. And another.

Looking furious, Adrian grabbed her by the elbow. “Danielle?”

She shrugged him off and ran.

She raced out of the dungeon. She might have killed Cole. She'd left him lying on the floor as though he meant nothing to her, when in fact, he meant everything. By keeping him in the dark, she'd tried to protect him, but instead she'd only put him in danger. She should've told him the truth, and now it was too late.

The main floor of the club was in chaos as word spread that Master Cole had stopped breathing. She passed several of the dungeon monitors on the way to Cole's office, all of them headed toward the basement.

The kidnappers had given her the means to create a distraction. No one would be in the screening room, the entire staff too busy calming the masses.

She flew into Cole's office, the door of which had been left wide open, as if offering an invitation. She pounded the code into the keypad and slid inside the secret room.

Just as she'd anticipated, it was empty.

Instantly she saw Cole's body on the floor of the dungeon, Gracie's hands on his chest. Danielle couldn't stop her tears from flowing, but a voice inside her that sounded like Cole ordered her not to waste the opportunity and to find the box.

She climbed the stairs to his residence. With shaky hands, she fiddled with the keys, sticking them into the lock one by one until finally one fit.

She pushed open the door and got her first look of the space he called his own. Except for a few framed photographs of an older couple she assumed were his parents, there was nothing of Cole in the décor. Anyone could live here. There were no bookshelves or televisions or magazines laid out on the black coffee table. There was no artwork on the white walls. No mirrors.

From the gray S-shaped couch to the kitchen's stainless steel appliances, the space had a sterile environment, none of it matching the Cole DeMarco she'd come to know these past few days. The man she'd gotten to know deserved color and light, not this dark cave he'd created for himself to retire to at night.

Where would he have put the box? As she moved into the living room she spotted a manila file with her name on it resting on the couch. She sat and flipped it open on the coffee table, and hundreds of photographs spilled out. Pictures of her from her school graduation. Of her walking into the building where she'd taken her art history class. Photos of her reading by the pool in her own backyard.

Eight years of photographs someone had taken without her knowledge. Her hands trembled violently.

Cole had been watching her all these years.

Why?

“What do you think you're doing?”

She snapped up her head to an angry-looking Adrian. “I . . . I'm looking for something to help Cole.”

“In here? I doubt it.” He stalked closer and clutched her shoulders. “Tell the truth, Danielle. You were looking for your offshore bank account.”

She eyed Adrian warily. How did he know about the account? “You're working for the ones who have Tasha.”

“Tasha.” He frowned, letting go of her shoulders. “You mean your stepmother, Natasha Walker? She's been kidnapped?”

Although it was possible he was playing her, she wanted to trust him, knowing how much Cole did. Watching Adrian's bewilderment, she pinched the bridge of her nose to head off the tears. “You didn't know. If you're not working for them, how did you know about the bank account?”

A muscle in Adrian's jaw jumped. “Why did you try to kill Cole?”

“I didn't!” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I gave him a couple sleeping pills. That's it. I don't know what happened.”

“An allergic reaction.”

She bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her father had died from an allergy.

She sniffed. “Is he okay?”

“Why do you care? You just left him.”

“I didn't want to. You have to believe that. I never wanted to hurt him. I've been trying to protect him. I've been trying to protect everyone.” She curled her fingers into his shirt. “Please, Adrian. Tell me he's okay. Tell me he's alive.”

Waves of pain wracked her body. She couldn't breathe, every inhalation squeezing her heart.

“Cole's fine,” he said gently. “Logan and Gracie will be bringing him up here shortly.”

Relief flooded through her. “How do you know about the offshore account?”

Adrian perched on the arm of the couch. “I'm not only Cole's slave. I also work for him in private security and as his bodyguard.”

“Well you didn't do a good enough job. I almost killed him!” She lifted a photo of herself. “If you knew I was here for the file, why didn't you confront me about it?” She clutched it to her chest.

He sighed. “We didn't tell you because we didn't know what your angle was. We figured you'd show eventually, which was why I left Arizona and came here a few months ago to settle in and blend into the background.”

“Arizona?”

“Cole assigned me to watch over you after your father died. I took all those photos.”

She swallowed. “Who else is involved?

“I'm not sure I should—”

She slapped her hands on the coffee table. “Who?”

He flinched. “Logan. He's been doing some . . . computer work for us. And . . . Gracie.”

Everyone she'd trusted. Each of them had lied to her.

Cassandra was right. It was all an illusion.

She heard voices right before Cole stumbled in flanked by Logan and Gracie. She flung herself at him, nearly bowling him over with the force of it, and wrapped her arms around him. “Cole, I'm so sorry.”

Gracie and Logan moved away, but Cole's arms remained by his sides. “Close the door and check for bugs, Adrian,” Cole said, his voice steady and strong.

Stepping back, she saw the cold expression on Cole's face.

Adrian held a device that looked like a walkie-talkie and advanced around the room. “All clear. They're not watching or listening in here.”

“What is going on here?” she asked, feeling as though she was missing something vital. Cole didn't appear to have been affected by the sleeping pills at all.

Ignoring her, Cole looked to Adrian. “What does she know?”

“Nothing. Less than we do.”

“I don't understand,” she said. “I thought I almost killed you. That you had a severe allergic reaction to the pills I gave . . . You played me?”

Cole folded his arms across his chest. “I saw you slip the pills into my water, so I switched cups. I figured I was supposed to have an allergic reaction; that seems to be Rinaldi's modus operandi, so I made sure to list it on the fake electronic medical records, and surprise—he took the bait.”

She felt like a fool. “All of you were in on this?” She looked at her friend. “Gracie?”

Guilt in her eyes, Gracie lowered her gaze to the floor. “At first we weren't sure why you were here or if you knew anything about the offshore account.”

“And when you realized I was innocent?” Danielle asked. “What then? You all just decided to keep me in the dark without any concern for what I might be going through and putting my life in danger?”

“Since you've been here, your life has never been in danger,” Cole said firmly.

“Then how do you explain the knife at my throat the other night?” she asked, staring directly into Cole's eyes.

His anger disappeared as his brows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Apparently he wasn't satisfied with the progress I'd made.” She could still feel the cold metal against her neck. “He said the longer I stayed, the more opportunity he'd have to rape me. I didn't want to take the chance that it was merely an intimidation tactic.”

Cole ran his hand over his head and sat on the couch, then gathered her into his arms. “You should've come to me. I would've protected you. You were supposed to be safe here. We've had the video cameras on you the entire time.”

She pulled back. “Except for the residences, right? Everything that's happened to me was in my bedroom.”

Cole slid a glance at Adrian. “Before you arrived, I had Adrian add a camera to the upstairs hallway with a view of your front door and one inside your room. Gracie, Logan, and Adrian all watched and reviewed the footage, and none of them saw anything out of the ordinary.”

She put her hand up in front of her. “For the moment, I'll ignore the fact you violated my privacy, but are you accusing me of lying?”

Cole shook his head. “No, I'm saying someone messed with the recordings.”

Adrian took a step toward her. “Earlier today, I found a bug in the screening room. One of the dungeon monitors has to be working for Rinaldi.” He turned to Cole. “I realize you've placed your trust in your dungeon monitors, but people can be bought for the right price. Outside of the people in this room, we can't assume anyone is innocent.”

Cole nodded to the others. “Why don't you three go back to the club while Danielle and I talk?”

When they closed the door behind them, Cole cradled her face in his hands. “Now, why did you really come to Benediction?”

She took a deep breath. “My stepmother was kidnapped.”

Beginning with the night of Tasha's kidnapping, she filled him in on all the events leading to tonight.

“You're not to blame for any of this. Not for Tasha, and not for your father.” He paused, the silence of the room deafening. “Danielle, your father didn't commit suicide.” He stroked her cheek. Studying her face, he blew out a warm breath. “He was murdered.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

M
Y FATHER WAS
murdered.

The words hung in the air as if they had physical substance.

Her mind rejected it even as her gut twisted in painful acknowledgement. For eight years, she'd carried the belief her father had chosen to end his life rather than fight to return to her. He'd left her alone in this world, and she'd hated him for it.

If she'd been wrong, if he'd been murdered . . .

“No, that's not true. The prison said he paid off another prisoner to buy him peanuts at the commissary, and he ate those peanuts knowing he'd have a severe allergic reaction. That sure sounds like suicide to me.”