You Are Mine (33 page)

“You can't escape,” she said ridiculously, dredging up the ghost of her old courage. “We know all about you too.”

A crease appeared between his brows. “I suspect you think you know. But the sad fact is you don't have any solid evidence nor will you find any. I'm many things, Miss King, but stupid I am not.” He began to walk forward toward her, and she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move. A deer in the headlights.

“Sir?” The cold voice of the scarred man behind her. “I suspect Rutherford will be trying to find her. Shall I make sure you're undisturbed?”

Fitzgerald waved a casual hand. “Well, it's not as if I'm in danger from this child here. Another few minutes should do it, Elijah.”

The name shot through the maze of fear clouding Eva's brain. Elijah. The mercenary Alex had met in Monte Carlo. Was Fitzgerald his employer? It certainly looked that way.

The sound of Elijah's retreating footsteps faded behind her.

It was now just her and The Man who'd taken her. Raped her. Kept her his prisoner for two years.

He continued to come toward her, and every part of her wanted to shrink into a ball. Curl up at his feet and pretend he didn't exist. The urge was so strong it was only the sharp press of the beads on her purse that kept her on her feet.

And Zac's voice in her head.

“I will be the only one you ever think about.”

If she thought hard, she could conjure up the feeling of his hands on her skin, not the crawling sensation that was creeping through her now as Fitzgerald got closer. Zac's hands on her body. Zac's mouth on hers. Zac's cock inside her.

Zac owning her completely, utterly.

She'd been wrong when she thought no one cared if she was killed right here and now. Zac would care. And Christ, he'd be pissed.

Eva lifted her chin and met Fitzgerald's cold blue eyes. “You can't touch me, you know,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “I'm not invisible anymore.”

Fitzgerald stopped, inches away from her. He put his hands behind his back, his expression considering. “Yes,” he allowed. “That's true. But you know, I've thought about killing you a few times over the years. And I didn't, not because you weren't invisible, but because…” He stopped, looking almost rueful. “Well, what would be the point? All that effort for nothing. The truth is that your life, Miss King, doesn't matter. You were insignificant then and you're insignificant now.”

She didn't want them to, but his words found the vulnerable places inside her, hitting their targets with unerring accuracy. Hurting.

“You're simply not a threat,” he went on. “You don't have it in you to go to the authorities anyway, not that there is any evidence to convict me. You just want to pretend it didn't happen, don't you, Eva?”

She shivered as he said her name. The one thing she'd never given him. “Don't,” she said hoarsely. “I'm Miss King to you.”

He stared at her for a long moment, frowning. Then he began to walk around her in a slow circle. “You were my favorite, did you know that? I was extremely angry when you escaped. Several of my men had to be taught a hard lesson. God knows why they thought giving you access to a computer was a good idea.” He came to a stop in front of her again. “I was surprised you got away so cleanly, that they couldn't find you no matter how hard they looked. And then a few years later you turned up again, this time as the owner of a promising computer company.” The lines of his face softened. “I have to say I was almost proud of you and what you'd become. I thought you'd disappeared into some crack house like all the other street rats, but no, you didn't. I even congratulated myself that the whole reason you were so good with computers had to do with the time you spent with me. Because how else would you have learned to hack like that if you hadn't been in my house?”

She wanted to protest, to say it wasn't true. That it wasn't anything to do with him. But … she couldn't say that for certain. Being in that house
had
taught her all about hacking. And if she hadn't been captured in the first place, would she have done all the things she had after she had escaped?

“Ah, yes,” he said. “I see you agree with me. Funny how life turns out isn't it? In many ways, you've achieved all you have
because
of me. When you look at it like that, you even owe me.”

“Fuck you,” she forced out. “I don't owe you anything. I am where I am today
in spite
of you, you asshole.”

“And where exactly is that, child?” His voice was mild. “Cowering in your little tower? Unable to go out unless you have Mr. Rutherford by your side? Afraid of all the world?” He raised a hand then, and to her horror ran a finger along her jaw. “That's where you are, Eva. And that's why I'm letting you live. You're simply not worth the bother of killing.”

Unable to help herself, she jerked away, her whole body recoiling in shock and fear.

Fitzgerald only gave a slight smile. His hand dropped. “Be glad of your insignificance, child. It saved your life. “

Then he stepped around her and simply walked away.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Zac stalked down the corridors, all emotion kept ruthlessly locked away. Every sense he had expanded outward, checking shadows, listening for sounds, alert to anything and everything that could give a hint as to where Eva had gone.

The place was silent apart from the faint echoes of the party going on behind him.

Where the fuck was she?

He paused at the entrance to a corridor off to his left and glanced down it, listening.

Nothing.

And then, faintly, the sound of—

Zac turned suddenly, lifting his arm and pointing his Glock at the shadowy figure who'd been approaching behind him.

The man stopped instantly, his scarred face absolutely without expression.

Zac kept the muzzle of his Glock exactly where it was. “Where is she?”

“He won't kill her.”

“Please don't make me ask again.”

“If he wanted to kill her he would have done so years ago.” The man didn't seem to be at all anxious about the fact that there was a gun pointed at his head. Then again, he'd probably been in this situation many times before.

Zac knew a mercenary when he saw one.

“Last chance.”

“If you kill me, you won't find out where she is.”

It was a reasonable point. The prick.

Still, Zac didn't lower his gun. “Say what you have to say then.”

The man's cold eyes were as black as space and just as empty. “You can't win, Mr. Rutherford. I tried to tell Mr. St. James back in Monte Carlo, but he wouldn't listen.”

Christ. He should have known. “You're Elijah.”

“Who I am is irrelevant. You and your people need to back off before you do something stupid. “Elijah smiled. In the dark his teeth were white, the smile as sharp and hungry as a tiger's. “He's mine to deal with, understand? I'm the only one who can take him down.”

Zac didn't bother to ask who the other man was talking about. He knew. “You think rather a lot of yourself if that's the case. We have evidence—”

“You have nothing. He has half the city in his back pocket.” That white smile was almost taunting. “Like I said, you can't win.”

Zac gritted his teeth. “So is that it? That's all you wanted to say?”

“If you want to make sure your woman lives, you'll do what I tell you.”

She wasn't his woman, but Zac didn't bother to correct him. “You just said he wouldn't kill her.”

“He won't kill her tonight. That's not to say she'll ever be safe. None of you will. Not unless you leave him alone and let me do what I came here to do.”

Zac stared at him, trying to read the look on his face, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or what his angle was. An impossible task. Elijah's expression gave absolutely nothing away.

“Down that corridor, second gallery to the right.”

Zac kept his gun trained on him for a long moment. Letting Elijah leave wasn't the logical thing to do, but short of killing him, Zac didn't have many other options. Not when he needed to find Eva too.

He lifted his Glock. Pocketed it.

Elijah's smile was white in the dim light before he turned and walked away.

Zac didn't waste another moment on him, instead turning down the corridor Elijah had indicated, walking swiftly until he came to the second gallery.

Eva was standing in the middle of it, her back to the doorway, motionless.

A great wash of relief swept through him, so intense he could only stand there looking at the straight white fall of hair down her back, as motionless as she was.

And he realized then that he'd been afraid. An emotion so foreign to him these days that he hadn't even recognized it. Bloody hell, was this what she carried with her wherever she went? This paralyzing, cold fist that closed around your heart?

The respect he already had for her deepened.

She felt such fear, and she'd come here anyway. She was even braver than he'd guessed.

“It was him,” she said without turning around, her voice so brittle and fragile it was like spun glass. “I didn't need to say a thing. He basically admitted it all before I spoke a word.” She was so still. Holding herself as if she was afraid to move or else she'd shatter.

Fear began to dissipate inside him, a thick and vicious anger taking its place.

Fitzgerald was dead. He'd hunt that fucker down like prey, make him wish he'd never set eyes on Eva King. Make him wish he'd never been born.

He stepped forward, put his hands on Eva's pale shoulders and turned her gently around.

Her face was the color of ashes. And the expression on it … like she'd seen her own death.

Something inside him cracked all the way through. He gripped her shoulders tight, staring down at her. She looked okay physically, but harm had been done. He could see it in the darkness of her eyes.

“What did he do to you?” he demanded harshly, unable to temper his tone. “What did he say?”

“He let me live. He said I wasn't worth the bother of killing.” She looked up at him, the bright silver of her gaze now darkened into charcoal. “He said I was insignificant. That I didn't matter. He knew me, Zac. He knew I never go outside without you. He knew that I'm … afraid.”

Her skin felt cold against his palms. She looked like she was in shock.

Rage was a living thing inside him. Like the night he'd found that officer forcing that young woman against the wall in an alley beside the pub. No one had gone to help her, everyone ignoring her screams. He'd never felt so angry. That a man in a position of power could take advantage like that, that no one was there to save her.

He hadn't cared when he'd punched the officer in the face and the man had hit his head on the pavement. Scum like that deserved the death they got.

And so did Fitzgerald.

He let Eva go. “Wait here. I'll only be a minute.”

“Where are you going?”

But he was already turning around, reaching again into his pocket for his gun.

A hand gripped his arm, slight strength pulling at him. “Stop.”

He shook her hand off. This was going to end. Tonight.

She moved in a rustle of skirts and a glitter of sequins, putting herself in front of him. “Zac.”

“Get out of my way, angel.”

“No.” A hand came up, hitting him square in the chest.

The spontaneous touch was enough to halt him in his tracks, and he looked down at her.

Her eyes weren't so dark anymore, a bright silver spark glittering in them. “You said you'd come to me before you did anything.”

“I have.”

“No, Zac.” There was an expression in her face he didn't quite understand, but it wasn't quite so shocked-looking now. In fact, she looked about as furious as he was. “Don't you dare take another step.”

Her hand was warm, he could feel it right through the cotton of his shirt, his body starting to wake into life at her touch. Fuck, he wanted that hand on his bare skin.

Ah, but he couldn't. He'd promised himself it wasn't going to happen. He'd take out his fury on the bastard who deserved it instead.

Gently, he took her wrist and removed her hand.

Or at least he tried to. Her arm had gone rigid, her hand pressing down. There was a familiar look in her eyes. Stubborn, bloody-minded determination. “You go after him and you're making me as helpless and as insignificant as he said I was. That I need to be protected. Coddled.” She pushed suddenly against him. Hard. “I'm not his fucking victim, Zac. I'm not anyone's fucking victim. So stop acting like I am!” There was no darkness in her eyes now at all. Only the pure quicksilver of rage. It caught at his own anger like a fishhook on the end of a line.

“Is that what you think I've been doing all this time?” He couldn't make his voice sound calm. “Keeping you a victim?”

Her mouth was a firm, hard line. “I don't think you did it purposefully but that's what I've become. And if I let you keep protecting me, that's all I'll ever be.” She removed her hand all of a sudden. “You were right. You should have left me years ago. It would have been the best thing for both of us.”

He could feel the imprint of her palm on his chest like a brand. Her mark on him. It made him want to put his mark on her in return. “The best thing for
you
,” he repeated for emphasis, to remind himself.

But Eva shook her head, white hair falling in among the sequins of her gown. “Not just for me. I understand now, Zac. What it was like. How it must have hurt to tie yourself for seven years to a woman who hated to be touched. Who needed protection but couldn't give you what you needed. Friendship is a two-way street, but that's not the street we've been on. It's all been one way.” She took a breath. “My way.”