Red Handed (29 page)

She stuck the flash drive into the USB port and clicked on the drive to open the files.

She held her breath, her heart speeding like a freight train, and waited. One file titled “Important” and dated from eight years ago popped up on the screen, and she opened it.

It was gibberish, a bunch of odd-looking symbols, letters, and numbers filling the computer screen. She studied it, wracking her brain for some way to decipher it. Was it a corrupted file? Or was she missing something?

“Danielle? What do you have there?”

She jumped, startled by Tasha's voice coming from behind her. She whipped her head around to see her stepmother standing in the doorway, her perfectly groomed eyebrows furrowed as she squinted at the screen.

Should she lie? She didn't want to involve her, but as she'd learned from before, not having all the information put them both at risk. “My father left it for me. It's a list of some kind.”

Tasha hummed in her throat and moved into the room. “What language is that?”

“I'm not sure.” She frowned. Some of the letters looked like the modern-day Roman alphabet. Was it a code? All the numbers were backward. “Wait. I have an idea. Leonardo Da Vinci used mirror writing in his notebooks. He wrote from right to left.”

Tasha stood right behind her now. “But some of those figures don't look anything like English letters.”

“They're not.” She typed in a search into her web browser, brought up a couple samples of foreign alphabets, and compared them to the file. There were similarities to a few Eastern European languages, but only one stood out to her. “I think . . . maybe they're Russian.”

“Russian. Why would your father leave you a document of Russian written backward? No one could read it.”

“No, not at first glance.” Nervous excitement shot through her. She quickly found a program on the Internet which would reverse the text for them. Then she copied and pasted a section of the list into the site. The symbols morphed before her eyes. She highlighted the text once again and plugged it into an online Russian-to-English translation program.

The list was converted into what appeared to be names, dates, and locations along with notes about drugs, murder, and human trafficking. “It's a list of crimes. My father was working for the Russian mafia. That's who Rinaldi convinced to invest with my father. I don't think Rinaldi was working alone.” She peered up at Tasha, who had paled from a golden tan to a snowy white. “I think your kidnapping was about more than the money. They were probably looking for this. We need to call the FBI.”

Tasha nodded. “I'll do it.”

As Tasha left the room to make the call, Danielle swerved back around to read more. Wanting to protect the information in case something happened to her, she sent the file in an email to Cole.

She caught a flash of black from the corner of her eye, and at the same moment, excruciating pain exploded at her temple. She tumbled off the chair and onto the floor, her hands folded over her abdomen to protect her child.

Tasha stood over her with a gun.

Pointed it at her head.

Then blackness.

Chapter Thirty-Three

T
HE HARSH SCENT
of acetone invaded Danielle's nose, rousing her from unconsciousness. Her head bobbled as if she couldn't control her muscles, and a searing pain shot through her skull. A warm, sticky wetness dripped down her cheek. She tried to remember what had happened, but she felt as if she was hitting a brick wall and the memories were on the other side of it. Was she in a nail salon? Had she been in an accident?

Nausea choked her.

Her baby. Was her baby okay?

Frantic, she opened her eyes to slits and fought against the pitching of the room. Her stepmother was splashing nail polish remover on the window drapes.

“Tasha?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Sleep well, my darling?”

She swallowed and wiggled her body, awareness of the dire situation sinking in. “What's going on? Why am I tied to a chair?
Again
?”

Tasha turned to her and slammed the plastic bottle of acetone down on the desk. “I thought you enjoyed being bound. When you whored yourself for DeMarco, I'm sure you allowed him to use his filthy ropes and chains on you.”

This didn't make any sense. Tasha couldn't be involved. She'd been married to Danielle's father. Danielle had lived in the same house as her for ten years. They were family.

“I didn't whore myself,” Danielle snapped. “I was there to save you.”

“Were you?” With a hand on her hip, Tasha arched a brow. “You didn't enjoy yourself and have sex with your crush, Cole DeMarco?”

“Why are you talking like that? Is Rinaldi behind this?”

Tasha folded her hands over her heart. “I think it's adorable you're so worried about him when the person who should scare you is standing right in front of you.”

“But your finger . . . ”

She wiggled her remaining digits. “Rinaldi was actually squeamish, if you can believe it. For days while we stayed in that cabin, he tortured Michael's sister yet he balked at cutting off my finger. I told him it would get you working quicker to find the account information. Losing a finger was a small sacrifice to make for my cause. At first, I worried how the society women would view it. They can be so catty. But then I realized it would be a great opportunity to start yet another charity I can use to fund my real cause.” Before Danielle's eyes, the woman she'd known disappeared, leaving a monster in her place. “These women are such idiots. All they do is spend their husbands' money and donate to fake charities just so they can feel good about themselves. America is truly the land of opportunity for people like me.”

She shook her head, the pain of it making her stomach rebel. “I'm confused. You are one of those women.”

“Really?” Tasha snagged a red pillar candle from the top of the desk. “How many of them could stage their own kidnapping and get away with it? How many of them could manipulate a man like Rinaldi into doing her bidding?”

Fear for her life and her baby's life swept through her. “You didn't stage it. You couldn't. It was Rinaldi. He took you.” As she witnessed the look of pride on Tasha's face, understanding struck her like a lightning bolt. “You were partners?”

She fluffed her layered blonde hair. “Partners implies we had an equal amount of power in the relationship. He worked for me.” Her jaw tightened. “Well, ‘worked' makes it sound as though he had a choice. He owed me and my friends a great deal of money. Cole DeMarco convinced Rinaldi to invest, and Rinaldi convinced us. Even a sadistic psychopath like Rinaldi can be blackmailed with the people he loves. In return for his cooperation, we let his wife and children live.”

“But he ordered Michael to shoot you.”

Tasha sighed and shook her head as if pitying Danielle for her stupidity. “All part of the plan. Michael would have roughed me up a little before letting me go. I would've told the police I escaped, but couldn't save you. And, of course, I couldn't identify the man who kidnapped me because he kept me blindfolded.”

Although she'd heard some of this from Cole and Rinaldi, there were missing pieces to the story. “Why did you marry my father?”

Tasha's eyes narrowed. “To keep him in line. Contrary to what you've always believed, your father was no saint. His hands were as dirty as the rest of ours. He could handle the money laundering, but when he learned about where that money came from, he got nervous, not only for his future but for yours.”

Using a match, she lit the candle and held it in her hands. “By then, I had married him and become his confidante. He told me was going to turn over the evidence he had on the Mikhailov
Bratva
, which, unbeknownst to him, was my family. I convinced him instead to put the money in an offshore account with me as the trustee and beneficiary. No one could touch it. We'd move away and take you kids with us. I don't know why, but instead he gave the evidence of his Ponzi scheme over to Cole to give to the FBI. To protect you from the families, the official statement was Cole had discovered the embezzlement and mismanagement of the funds and that your father burned all his records of the Rinaldi and Mikhailov accounts. Then he left the trust to you.”

Tasha's story made Danielle ill. How had she lived with this woman all these years and not known her true nature?

“And if he had run off with you and the money?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “After I had control of the money, you and he would have met an untimely demise.”

She thought when she'd left Benediction, she'd returned to reality, but in truth, her entire life had been an illusion. Her only hope was if Cole sent for help when he received her email.
If
he received her email. Unless . . .

“Is Roman working for you?”

Tasha's expression grew stony. “No, he knows nothing, and I plan to keep it that way. Before he left, I made sure to send him on a few errands to keep him busy for the next couple of hours.” She sighed and shook her head. “If you would've only married him, it would have made things so much easier. Once you rejected him, I had to initiate plan B.”

“And if I had married him?”

The flames of the candle flickered in Tasha's eyes. “You would've died in an accident, leaving my son a widower. A wealthy one who shared everything with his mother, including his bank account.” She set down the candle and waved her finger at Danielle. “But no, my Roman wasn't good enough for you. You had the silly infatuation with Cole DeMarco that I helped fan into an obsession. You blamed him for your father's death when his real killer held you as you cried.”

Odd that Tasha saw herself in the role of consoler when she'd barely managed as much as a hug over the years. If anyone had held her, it had been Roman. “My father would never have left me with you if he thought I was in danger.”

Tasha's lips curled into a cruel smile. “Oh, but he did. No, he didn't realize I was the one pulling the strings. I got a message to him through an associate of mine. It was either him or you. He thought by killing himself he'd keep you safe. And to a point, that was true. I had to wait until you either married or turned twenty-five before the trustee of the money could turn over the assets to you. I couldn't even find out where he'd set up the account. All I knew was he had told DeMarco to keep the information in your mother's jewelry box for you and that the password was engraved on your locket. Rinaldi and Michael both tried to get into DeMarco's private residence, but of course, they failed. That's when I thought about sending you.”

Danielle tracked the candle's smoke as it snaked a path across the room to the window. Her pulse flew into overdrive, her brain finally making the connection between the acetone and the flame. Tasha wasn't going to let her out of this house alive. A gun sat on the edge of the desk, blood on the handle.

That was the sticky substance on the side of her face. If she could wriggle one of her hands out of the rope, she might be able to reach the gun. She had to keep Tasha talking. “But even if I hadn't shown up at Benediction, wouldn't Cole have released the money to me since I'd turned twenty-five?”

“I couldn't take the chance he'd hold onto it. All I knew from your father were the conditions of release. That trust kept you safe because if you died, the money was to go to charity.”

She twisted her wrists back and forth, trying to break free. “So you had yourself kidnapped and blackmailed me into finding the account. Why were you so sure I'd get into the room where he kept it? How did you even know about it?”

Tasha picked up the gun and cradled it in her palm like a fragile bird. “Rinaldi had kept tabs on him for years, and I'm guessing it worked both ways. DeMarco knew Rinaldi had something to do with your father's death, but he couldn't prove anything. Over the years, DeMarco would drop little hints, as if daring Rinaldi to make his move.” She ran the barrel of the gun down the side of Danielle's face. “We knew he'd do anything and everything to protect you. He was as obsessed with you as you were with him. You walking into Benediction was like handing him his fantasy on a silver platter.” She sighed wistfully. “I was going to allow you to live, but unfortunately, you stumbled on a very important list. A list that in the wrong hands would shut down my organization.” With the gun in one hand, she raised the candle in the other and neared the drapes. “So I'm sorry to tell you this dear, but your world is about to go up in flames.”

Danielle yanked at the ropes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't die. “Don't do this. I promise I won't tell anyone, and you can destroy the flash drive. Just please don't kill me.”

“Mother?” Roman strode into the room carrying a plastic shopping bag. Shock registered on his face as he took in the scene. “What's going on here? Why do you have Danielle bound to a chair?”

“Roman,” Tasha whispered, her eyes wide. “You weren't supposed to come home yet. The errands I sent you on should've kept you out of the house until this afternoon.”

His eyes narrowed on his mother. “I'd promised Danielle I'd bring her jelly beans. I was going to drop them off to her before I started on that ridiculous list of errands you made for me. But I don't need to explain my actions.” He dropped the shopping bag to the carpet and shook his hands in front of him. “You're the one who is standing there with a gun.”

“Roman, your mother was working with Rinaldi,” Danielle said, using the distraction of his arrival to work harder on the bindings. “She's been behind everything from the beginning.”

Tasha's eyes flashed with anger before she schooled her face into that of concerned mother. “Dear, she's lost her poor mind. You've seen how depressed she's been lately. She attacked me and pulled this gun out, and I was able to overpower her and tie her to the chair. I was just about to call the police.”