Sleeping with the Billionaire (Rendezvous with the Billionaire Book 3) (6 page)

I didn’t. “Maybe when we find this guy, you can shoot him.” He smiled. “Can I see your list?” Maybe I’d recognize a name and we’d be that much closer.

“I don’t have it written down,” he said. “And I doubt you’d recognize anyone other than Amanda. But I’ll put something together for you. Hopefully we’ll know who it is and where by the end of the day.”

My eyes widened and I placed a hand on his arm. “That soon? Really?”

He turned completely toward me after placing the button back on the table. He cupped my cheeks with both hands and laid his forehead against mine. “My people are very good, just a few more hours and you can pretend this never happened.”

I tilted my head up and kissed him quickly. His lips were right there and I couldn’t resist.

He smiled against my lips. “Come home with me tonight.”

It took me a few seconds to decipher what he said. He didn’t mumble, I just wasn’t ready to hear it. I pulled back slowly. “What?”

Evan still smiled. “Come home with me tonight.”

His proposal didn’t change. And, Lord help me, I really wanted to. But I had to be smart, strong. “I can’t.”

His brow furrowed, a little line appearing on his forehead. “Why not?”

He asked like the answer wasn’t obvious. Maybe to him it wasn’t. “Because this time tomorrow there might be a fucking sex tape out starring the two of us?” I kept my voice down, I didn’t want anyone out in the hall to hear. “It’s probably best if I’m not seen walking out of your place in the wee hours of the morning when – if – that happens.”

Evan didn’t look convinced. “It’s not going to happen. And I rather thought we could come in together tomorrow, if you’re staying over.”

Now that shocked me. Here was the man who steadfastly said he didn’t do relationships offering to drive me to work after a night of…I didn’t know how to describe it. “That sounds like the opposite of keeping things between us private.” Another thought occurred, “And you’re engaged!”

That should have bothered me more than it did. But both Amanda and Evan were so over each other that I barely felt bad about it. Did that make me a bad person?

“Okay.” He took a step back. “I understand.” There was no ill will in his voice, no bitterness. But a glint came into his eye and he put one finger up to his mouth, motioning me to be quiet. He dialed in some numbers on his telephone and we listened while it rang.

“This is Amanda Marquez, please leave a message.” What was he doing? And why was he doing it with me here?

“It’s Evan. Please call me back, we need to talk.” He dropped the call and looked back at me. “I’m not going to end it over a voicemail, I hope you understand.”

“Of course.” It came out soft, not quite a whisper. I couldn’t believe he was just going to end it between them like that. “Are you doing it…” I was too scared to finish the question and turned away from him.

He grabbed my hand and kissed my fingertips. I looked back and watched him. “I told you I was going to end it. There was nothing real there.” He left that hanging between us, but I didn’t know if I should supply the rest of the thought. Was there something real here?

A knock at the door sprung us apart. He dropped my hand and I took a few steps back, careful not to slip and fall on one of his piles of books. Casey, one of the other associates ducked her head inside. “Hey, Carlo said that the Shapiro meeting has been moved back to two.”

Evan nodded and whatever we’d been doing was over. He let me get back to work and I left him to contemplate the ruin of his office.

I was assaulted by that creepy feeling again on the way home. I kept an eye out for anyone that looked suspicious, but these were the streets of New York. Plenty of innocent people looked suspicious and I looked even worse for taking the risk of making eye contact. I picked up my pace, convinced that if I could just make it to the subway station that I’d be safe.

According to my call log on my phone, I had an hour until my time limit was up. Evan hadn’t told me anything else about his search for the blackmailer, but I hoped that he’d found him. My phone rang and I answered, hoping it was Evan with the good news. One second of listening and those hopes were dashed.

“So what’s the decision, Amy?” He drew out each syllable of my name into some grotesque sound.

I froze where I stood. Another commuter bumped into me and I dimly heard her curse. I didn’t care, sidewalk etiquette wasn’t important to me at the moment.

“It hasn’t been 72 hours yet.” Just because I knew what I was doing, didn’t mean that I didn’t want him to waste every minute possible waiting for me.

“And I told you to stay away from your little boyfriend.” He sneered, “Did he fuck you good? Have you on all fours, face down on that soft bed?”

I couldn’t even be anymore disgusted with him. This asshole had exhausted it. I didn’t know how he knew I’d stayed with Evan, I didn’t care. He was going down and I looked forward to making sure he stayed that way. Forever. “If you think I’m helping you, you’re clearly delusional,” I spat. “You are scum of the earth and there is nothing you can do to make me follow your orders.”

“Hmm,” he exaggerated the sound. “Too bad I believe you.”

The phone cut off and I was left standing in the middle of the sidewalk, an immovable pebble in the stream of people. I got on with walking. Whatever was going to happen was out of my hands completely. Either Evan had found the guy and was working his magic, or I was going to be an internet sensation by the time I got home. It should have had more of an effect on me, but I was so tired after the non-stop, three day long worry that I couldn’t care anymore. Whatever would happen, it was done.

I waited by the last light before the station, right on the curb and ready to move forward as soon as the light changed.

I felt something hard jab against my lower back. A harsh voice whispered right in my ear, “A black van is about to pull up, you will get in the back seat without alerting anyone to what is going on, or you and everyone else here gets shot, understood?”

I bit my lip to hold back a scream. The black van pulled in front of me and the door opened. I stepped inside without thinking. My kidnapper told the driver to move and we took off. I got one look at the man with the gun. Even with his hat and sunglasses I recognized him.

Dylan Marquez.

Except for a little slot that allowed us to speak to one another, a partition blocked all access from the back of the van to the front. There were no windows at all so I couldn’t tell where we were going. After the first bit of panic subsided I tried to figure out the path we were taking, counting the turns and all that. But I had no idea how long we drove and lost count after a few minutes.

Besides, I didn’t have a good idea of the streets outside of those I walked every day. This was New York, I never had to drive.

I tried to say something, to yell for help. I wanted the driver to hear me and help, but every time I moved at all or sucked in a breath, Dylan pressed the barrel of the gun harder against my back. There was no hope of saying anything.

After what felt like hours, the van came to a complete stop. The door slid open and revealed the brick wall of an alley. Dylan kept the gun on me, but out of sight of anyone who might pass us. If I moved wrong, he would kill me. I had no idea how I was keeping myself upright since my knees were shaking so badly.

He led me inside and pushed me into a shoddy looking elevator. Wood paneling was peeling down one of the sides, exposing a dull gray metal backing. Dylan made me face the wall as we ascended and I had no idea what floor we ended up on.

In the hallway it looked like any other cheap apartment building. The carpet should have been replaced ten years ago and the paint was beyond hopeless. I only saw letters on the doors, no numbers. He took us to room H and pushed me inside.

It was a studio. If I spread my arms out wide, my fingers wouldn’t quite touch either of the walls, but it was a close thing. The room housed a small refrigerator in the corner and an oven that wasn’t even two feet wide. The stove only had two burners and there was barely enough counter space for a large plate.

Worst of all, there were no windows. A dinky light hanging from the ceiling was the only illumination available and it cast a sallow yellow tint to everything. Just standing in the room made me feel sick. Though that was probably due to my company.

Dylan forced me down on to a rickety metal chair and threw a length of plastic at me. I’d seen them before online and on videos. Zip tie cuffs.

“Put them on!” He waved the gun at me and I did as asked. He checked to see that they were as tight as he wanted them to be. I really wished that I had amazing skills at fighting. No one in an action movie would be held hostage by a measly zip tie. But I wasn’t an action star.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He wasn’t shooting, and I really wanted to know. I figured my best strategy to not end up dead was to get him talking.

While he didn’t care to explain himself over the phone, he seemed more than happy to talk now. Dylan leaned against one of the walls, holding the gun low at his side. He seemed convinced that I wasn’t going to move. He was right. “That ass thinks that he gets to have everything he wants! He takes my sister, treats her like crap. Splits up all my friends, doesn’t give a fuck. And the second someone tries to hold him accountable!” He paced back and forth while I held completely still. There was nothing stable about Dylan Marquez. I’d gotten the creepy vibe off him on our date. But I hadn’t realized that he was psycho.

“Nick didn’t want to make him pay, you know that?” He turned to me, gesturing with the gun. I flinched. I tried not to, but before today I’d never had a gun pointed at me before and I didn’t know how to suppress the instinct. Dylan’s eyes narrowed on my movement and he got very, very close to me. So close that I could smell the sharp sting of alcohol on his breath. He didn’t look drunk, but I wasn’t happy that he was less than sober. “Answer me!” He yelled in my ear. He didn’t seem concerned about noise complaints.

“No, I di-didn’t.” I barely stuttered, but tears pricked at my eyes and I felt like I was going to throw up. I just wanted to go home. Alive, preferably unharmed. “Please,” it escaped my lips.

Dylan smacked me with his free hand and I tasted blood. I fell sideways to the floor, one arm trapped under me. I cried out from the impact. It hurt, but Dylan hauled me right back up into the chair.

“Of course little Nicky didn’t want to hurt him. He was always the little do-gooder. He’d do anything for Amanda.” He spat on Nick’s name but his voice softened when he spoke about his sister.

Oh God, this was even creepier than I though. I tried to keep disgust off my face. “What about the pictures?” It wasn’t a stab in the dark, but it was a guess. If Amanda, Dylan, Nick, and Evan all used to be friends, one was dead and the other had kidnapped me. It wasn’t out of the realm of thought that the kidnapper had something to do with the murder.

“I told him to let me keep them!”

I almost threw up, but let him keep talking. I had to know.

“But he just wanted to show Amanda.” His voice took on a pathetic tone, like he was imitating the murder victim. “And embarrass her like that? No,” he shook his head, “I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“So you two fought?” I asked.

He laughed, “Please, Nicky wouldn’t hurt a fly. I fought, he surrendered.”

“And so you killed him?” I was in way more trouble than I knew. No matter what, I had to get out of here.

“That was an accident!” For a second he looked desperate for me to believe him, his eyes wide, mouth taut. But he regained his composure, taking deep breaths and rolling his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter anyway. You’re going to make the cops believe you and then we’ll both be out of this mess.”

I don’t know how I kept my expression still. He had to be completely crazy. He kidnapped me off the street, pointed a gun at me, tied me up, and confessed to murder. And then he thought I was going to get him off the hook and implicate the man I was fal—another man? I kept quiet, unable to say anything that wouldn’t make the situation even worse.

I needed to get out of there.

Dylan’s phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin. He put a finger up to his lips, motioning me to stay quiet. I nodded. After a few terse words into his phone he hung up and looked at me. “You’re going to stay here, and you’re not going to make a peep, got it?” I nodded, still quiet.

He set the gun on the small counter and approached me holding two more zip ties. “No funny business now.” He tied each of my legs to the chair and admired his handiwork. With a little smile he looked back at me, “I’ll be back soon. Just cooperate and this all goes away.”

Yeah, no way in hell. But I nodded once more and watched him leave. The door locked behind him with a resounding finality.

I waited for a long moment, sure he was going to come barging right back in and shoot me, or worse. I didn’t want to contemplate the worse. But one minute ticked by, then another. At least five passed before I started to truly believe that he’d left me alone.

Tied to a chair.

In a strange part of the city.

In a windowless room.

I tried to be positive. It really could be worse. I wasn’t injured, and…well I wasn’t injured. And by pure luck I knew how to escape from zip ties. Andrea had shown me a video about it six months before, something someone else had shared with her. Funny the way things get around.