Hard Evidence (27 page)

It was a Russian accent.

Russian.

Red Mafia.

Adrenaline, potent and hot, shot through Tessa's veins, her memories of what had happened returning full force. Mar-gaux's surprise visit. Two men rushing in. The kick of the gun in her hand as she shot a man. The shock and pain of Mar-gaux's boot in her belly. The cold prick of a needle.

Margaux had betrayed Julian, kidnapped Tessa, and turned her over to the man Julian had torn his soul apart trying to bring to justice.

Dread slid down Tessa's spine like an icy finger. "Alexi Burien."

He watched her through eyes like frost on barbed wire, his thin lips spreading into a satisfied smile. "So Darcangelo told you about me."

Burien sat beside her on a large bed, dressed in navy blue. Behind him stood a camera on a tripod. Its lens was pointed at her.

Her mouth went dry, her fear mingling with a strange giddiness, as if only part of her were in the room and the rest were floating. The drug. Whatever they'd given her was still in her bloodstream.

"N-no." She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "I-I figured it out myself."

He took a handful of her hair, rubbed it between his fingers as if testing its texture. "Why do I find this hard to believe?"

"Because you're a misogynist pig." It took her a moment to realize what she'd said. She gasped, then held her breath.

"Did you just call me a pig?" He looked shocked—and he pulled out a knife.

She tried to pull away from him only to find she couldn't move, her wrists and ankles bound to the bed with thick leather straps. Terror ripped through her, drove the breath from her lungs in a panicked wail. "No!"

The surprise on his face transformed to cruel arousal, and he laughed. "Are those tight enough, little one, or should I make them tighter?"

Overcome with horror, she froze, stared up at him.

Burien is a predator! He hurts women for fun!

Julian's words from this morning came back to her.

And she understood.

The more she fought Burien, the more fear she showed, the more he would enjoy hurting her, the more power he would have over her. If she didn't react, if she hid her fear, maybe she could get the better of him long enough to get word to Julian. Maybe she could endure him. Maybe she could survive.

Or maybe Burien will just kill you sooner.

She swallowed, her heart beating so hard she thought she might be sick. "W-what a small penis you must have to use a knife on women."

"You are brave, little Tessa, but you are also wrong. I do not think you will find me lacking." He took the collar of her blouse and slowly cut it open, the tip of the razor-sharp blade passing a hairsbreadth from her skin.

She fought the urge to scream. "Compared to Julian? Please!"

Burien pushed her blouse aside, slid the cold knife between her skin and the front clasp of her bra, then cut it open with a jerk. The silky cloth fell back, revealing her breasts. He scraped over her with his gaze. "Do you know what is going to happen to your Julian? He will live long enough to see what has become of you—and then I will kill him."

Despair sank icy claws into her chest as she realized she would probably never see Julian again. All it would take was one bullet, and one or the other of them would be gone.

Julian!

She forced back her tears. "
You
won't kill him. You'll send one of your little minions. You're afraid to be anywhere near Julian Darcangelo."

Burien drew a deep breath. "You should show me a bit more respect."

"Respect? For you?" Hysterical laughter bubbled up from inside her. "You know what they say in Russia—
tough-ski shit-ski"

His nostrils flared. "You are trying to make me angry, but I can see you are afraid. You tremble. And see how your heart beats?"

He touched the cold tip of the blade against her breastbone.

She met his pitiless gaze, a surge of contempt taking the edge off her fear, her voice quavering with rage. "You think tying women up and hurting them means you're powerful? You're still the same pathetic bully who beat up old ladies and sold crack on the streets of Gzel!"

The blow took her by surprise, pain exploding against her cheek, leaving her dazed. She tasted blood, her head pounding.

"You know nothing about me! We will see how brave you are after—"

Someone knocked on the door. Then a voice shouted in Russian from outside the bedroom. Amid the words she didn't understand was one she did—Darcangelo.

Julian?

A look of alarm on his face, Burien answered in Russian, leaping from the bed and grabbling a large pistol from the drawer of his nightstand.

Then Tessa heard a woman's voice outside the door. "Get out of my way, idiot!"

Margaux.

Burien let loose with a string of Russian words that must have been profanity, then stepped back, pistol aimed at the door. "Come in!"

Margaux entered accompanied by one of Burien's armed goons.

Between them walked Julian.

He'd been beaten and stripped down to his jeans. Even his shoes were gone. His wrists were bound before him with duct tape, and blood trickled down his face from a cut on his temple. He looked angrier than she'd ever seen him, his jaw tight, his expression hard as stone. He glanced over at her, his gaze passing lightly over her before it fixed on Burien.

"I know you're busy, Alexi, but obviously this couldn't wait." Margaux walked over to Burien, kissed him on the cheek, then turned to Tessa. "Don't you look cute all tied up?"

But no one was listening to Margaux.

Burien and Julian stood a few feet apart, glaring at one another with unmistakable hatred, Burien's gun aimed directly at Julian's chest. If Burien pulled the trigger…

Tessa's heart seemed to stop.

Then Burien's face broke into a smile. "Julian Darcangelo. For so many years, you have been looking for me, and now you have found me."

Chapter 27

"What can I say? Persistence pays off." Julian kept his voice neutral and forced himself to focus on Burien's face and not Tessa.

The sight of her—bound, her breasts bare, fresh bruises on her cheek—was like a dagger to his gut. She looked vulnerable, helpless, terrified. He wanted to start breaking heads, to go for Burien's throat, to fight his way over to her. But one mistake now would get them both killed, so he quashed his feelings, buried them deep, clearing his mind of everything but the moment. He couldn't let himself think about her or what she'd been through, not if he wanted to get her out of this.

At least she's alive.

He had known Margaux would try to give him away to Burien's security. If she'd betrayed him when they were lovers, she'd certainly have no qualms about doing so now. They'd gotten through the gate that guarded Burien's mountain estate and into the main building before she'd made her move. She would have failed had the elevator not opened just then and disgorged two more thugs, one of whom had leveled a Glock at Julian's head. Margaux had taken her fury out on him with a few kicks, then she'd had the men strip-search him, leaving him naked apart from the duct tape on his wrists.

"Bring back memories?" he'd asked, when he'd caught her looking at his cock.

She'd thrown his jeans in his face.

Now here he was in what looked like Burien's bedroom, disarmed, his hands tied, outnumbered three to one. Bigger than most family homes, the room held a king-sized bed, a bar, an enormous plasma TV, as well as some chairs, a sofa, and a few devices that looked like they belonged in a medieval torture chamber. A camera stood next to the bed on its tripod, the lens focused on Tessa.

Julian felt his jaw clench, then willed himself to relax, waiting for that moment when his heart rate would slow and his mind would clear. But the moment didn't come, and he knew why. This time the stakes were too high. This time, there was Tessa.

"You have interrupted me, I am afraid." Burien motioned toward Tessa. "But what kind of host would I be if I did not invite you to join me?"

"I told him you wouldn't mind an audience." Margaux walked over to the bar and poured herself a drink, ice clinking against crystal.

"This is true." Burien nodded. "In fact, having you watch while I rape your Tessa again and again has been a favorite fantasy of mine these past days."

Julian looked into Burien's soulless brown eyes, subdued his rage, kept his voice casual. "We all have hopes and dreams, don't we? Too bad most don't come true."

Burien chuckled. "We shall see. But first, before I fuck her, I want to know how you found me."

Julian pointed to Margaux with a jerk of his head. "Ask her."

Margaux told Burien how Julian had lured her into meeting him at the lab and, already tipped off by Tessa's covert message, had been ready when she'd tried to take him.

"You did not know about this message?" Burien did not look pleased.

Neither, judging from her startled expression, did Tessa. Her gaze met his, her blue eyes filled with confusion and terror—and love. If Julian hadn't already been in love with her, that would have done it.

"Shhh," he mouthed. Then he gave her a wink.

"She spelled my name in Spanish, but it sounded like gibberish to me. I don't speak Spanish." Margaux took another drink, walked over to stand at the foot of the bed. "It looks like she's all out of clever ideas now."

Burien turned to Julian again. "So you forced Margaux to bring you here?"

Julian nodded. "But only after I had recorded her confession and sent it to every law enforcement agency in the state. I know the whole story—how you turned Margaux into your pawn, how you used her to stay ahead of the law, how you escaped three years ago only because she tipped you off. I know the truth, and so do the FBI and the Denver police."

A heavy silence fell over the room as Burien turned to face Margaux.

Margaux's face drained of its color. She took a nervous sip. "I had no idea he was recording me. I thought we'd get him here, your men and I would take care of him, and that would be the end of it. I'm afraid my cover is blown, Alexi. I'm going to have to stay underground with you."

Burien glared at her with undisguised disgust. "Stay underground with me? You stupid
suka
! What use are you to me now?"

"I know I fucked up. I'm sorry. But there are still lots of things I can do for you—computer work, undercover ops, security. Besides, there's more to our relationship than—"

"You were my eyes inside the FBI." Burien raised his .45. "Now you are nothing."

Margaux's eyes flew wide. "Wait—!"

A loud blast. Tessa's scream. A spray of blood.

Margaux fell backward, landing lengthwise at the foot of the bed.

Julian started toward Tessa, hoping to use the distraction to put himself between her and Burien, but the cold jab of the Glock against his bare back stopped him.

Wait, Darcangelo. You'll get your chance.

Tessa fought back a wave of nausea, her heart slamming in her chest. Blood had sprayed across her jeans, and she could smell it.

A muscle clenched in Julian's jaw, the only sign that he felt anything. "I told Margaux the two of you were destined for a nasty breakup tonight, but she didn't listen."

How could he stay so calm and cool when someone had just been killed? How could he act so relaxed with a gun aimed at his back? How could he joke about murder?

This is what he does, girl. It's his job.

Burien whirled on him, aimed his pistol at Julian's heart. "Do you see how I have hurt you? I corrupted one of your lovers, turned her against you, used her. And in a moment I am going to make sweet Tessa wish she'd never met you. But first I would know if the police are on their way. I do not wish to get caught with my pants down."

"How can they know where I am when I didn't know where we were going? Margaux drove. We came in her car."

Burien spoke in Russian to his goon, who drove his fist into Julian's kidney.

Julian gave a grunt, sank into the man's fist, his brow furrowed, breath hissing from between his clenched teeth.

The sight of his pain made Tessa's chest hurt.

Oh, Julian!

"Don't feed me horseshit, Darcangelo! You probably brought a GSP device!"

"You mean a
GPS
transmitter?" Julian's voice was strained. "Ask Igor here. He stripped me down to my skin."

Igor?

And then Tessa felt it—something cold and hard. She looked down and watched a bloody hand lay a pistol—Julian's pistol?—on the bed and nudge it beneath her leg.

Margaux was alive?

Barely able to breathe, Tessa watched as the hand tucked the gun beneath her left leg and then began to unbuckle the leather around her left ankle with fumbling fingers. Margaux meant to set her free. She'd given her the gun and was trying to free her. But why?

Who cares why?

Tessa looked over at Burien, who had his back to them both, and to Igor who's attention was riveted on Julian. If Burien turned around, if Margaux's motions caught Igor's eye, it would be over. But before the buckle was unfastened, Margaux's fingers went still, her hand lying limp against Tessa's foot.

No! Don't die! Don't die!

Burien was shouting in Russian again, but Tessa barely heard him, her thoughts focused entirely on Margaux's bloodstained fingers. They twitched, began to move again. And then Tessa's left ankle was free.

Her pulse a deafening roar, she slowly bent her knee, guiding the pistol upward with her heel until it pressed against her left buttock, her gaze fixed on Burien and "Igor." She tried to pull herself close enough to her wrist to unfasten the strap with her teeth, but with her right ankle still held fast, she couldn't quite reach. She needed her right ankle freed.

But where was Margaux? What if she were unable to reach Tessa's right ankle? What if she were dead?

Please don't be dead! Please don't be dead!

Teetering between hope and dread, Tessa lay still—and waited.

"Enough fucking around!" Burien shouted. "Where is your cell phone, Darcangelo?"

"I think Igor took it." Julian bit his lip as if trying to remember. "Or maybe I let it drop into the bushes outside your gate to give the cops a signal to follow."

Another kidney punch.

This time Julian's knees seemed about to buckle.

Then Tessa felt the cold brush of Margaux's fingers on her right ankle and nearly moaned with relief. But it was clear that whatever strength Margaux had was fading. Several times her fingers stilled or slipped away, and Tessa was certain each time that she had died. But finally the leather slipped away, and Tessa's right ankle was free.

One excruciating inch at a time, she pulled herself upward, praying no one would notice her movements. Closer, closer, closer. And then she was there, her teeth sinking into the thick leather that bound her right wrist, tugging, pulling until it was free.

Someone's cell phone rang, playing Bach.

Tessa froze.

Burien reached inside his pocket, drew out his phone, and shouted into it in Russian, his gun still pointed at Julian's chest. Then he tucked the phone back in his pocket, the look on his face changing from anger to panicked fury. He lifted his pistol and pointed it at Julian's face.

"There's a line of cop cars on their way up the canyon. I am told there is a SWAT team with them. I'm afraid I have to cut our conversation short. I have a helicopter to catch."

The breath left Tessa's lungs in a rush as she realized what Burien meant to do.

He was going to shoot Julian at point-blank range—and make a run for it.

Desperate, she reached beneath herself with her one free hand and grabbed the pistol.

"But what am I thinking? Ladies first, of course." Burien turned toward Tessa.

"Not this time!" She met his gaze and, heart in her throat, pulled the trigger.

What happened next was a blur.

Burien's shriek of pain. His rage as he knocked the gun from her hand. The barrel of his pistol as it hovered before her face. Julian somehow kicking Burien in the side of the head. An explosion of gunfire. Igor crumpling. Burien sinking lifeless to the floor.

And then Julian was there, unbinding her wrist, pulling her against him, wrapping her in a blanket. "Are you all right, Tessa? Talk to me, honey!"

But she could barely think, much less talk. "H-help Mar-gaux. S-she untied—"

"I saw, honey. She's dead."

So much death, so much blood.

From somewhere nearby came a voice on a bullhorn. "Freeze! Police!"

"It's over, Tessa." He kissed her hair. "Let's get you out of here, away from this mess."

Trembling uncontrollably, Tessa burrowed into the strength of Julian's embrace, felt him lift her into his arms, the tears she'd held back finally spilling down her cheeks.

Though his job was far from done, Julian stayed beside Tessa when a detective took her statement. He rode with her in the ambulance down the winding canyon into Denver, holding her hand while the EMTs examined her for shock, possible concussion, and the lingering effects of heroin overdose. He stayed with her in the emergency room while the nurse took her vitals and started an IV—and then insisted on treating the cut on his temple.

And then, finally, they were alone.

He kissed Tessa's bruised cheek, his heart full of emotion he didn't know how to express—and terrible questions he didn't know how to ask. "Whatever he did to you, Tessa, however he hurt you, I know you can get through it."

She lay in the hospital bed wearing a blue-and-white hospital gown, her long curls tumbled out across the white pillow. "He didn't… He didn't rape me, if that's what you're thinking. He was waiting for me to wake up."

Julian released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I wouldn't have gotten there at all if you weren't so damned smart. You don't remember doing it, do you—giving me your secret message?"

She frowned. "I remember wishing I could warn you about Margaux, but then…"

"You did warn me." He sang the little rhyme that spelled part of Margaux*s name, ran his thumb over Tessa's cheek. "If it weren't for your quick thinking, I wouldn't have found you. I wouldn't have found him. You brave, smart, beautiful woman."

Her eyes filled with tears again. "I'm not brave. I was terrified! I was afraid of what he might do to me, of what he planned to do to you. I was afraid I'd never see you again."

And then she told him how she'd heard a knock on the door and had grabbed her revolver, knowing something was wrong because the alarm hadn't gone off. How she'd let Mar-gaux in, thinking Margaux had come with information about the e-mails. How she'd heard boots on the porch and had tried to slam the door. How the men had forced it open. How she'd shot one of them—only to find herself on the floor, the breath kicked out of her.

"I tried to fight them, tried to crawl away, but the guy who was with her held me down, grabbed my arm, and shot me up with something. I remember knowing you would blame yourself and thinking how terrible that would be. After that…"