The Sacrificial Lamb (13 page)

“Pretty quick draw there, Skippy. Hope that’s the only thing you’re quick at.”

“Russell, you stupid
fuck!”
Domenic said, reholstering his gun angrily. “I could have killed you!” Russ just smiled at him sagely. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

Russell held up a familiar looking key chain. “Bianca still had the key to your condo. You know, you should consider changing the access code to your alarm system. Don’t they suggest doing that every six months or so?”

“What are you doing here?” Domenic demanded. His heart was starting to beat normally again.

“Waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” He snickered. “Were you hoping to find Alexis Montgomery?”

“That would have been great, but I knew it was unlikely.”

“You still think I know where she is?” Domenic asked, cocking a brow at him.

“I
know
you do, Dom.” Russell matched his look, sparks flying from his steely gaze.

Domenic glanced at his watch surreptitiously. He had made good time getting back to the condo, but he didn’t want to waste much more time with Russell. “Look, Russ, I don’t have time for this right now.”

“I’m not leaving till you tell me what I want to know,” he said. His jaw was set, and Domenic recognized that stubborn look all too well.

“Fine,” Domenic said, crossing his arms across his chest. “You’re right, I know where she is. Now, what?”

Russell’s mouth dropped open. Of all the things he expected Domenic to say that certainly wasn’t one of them.

“You’re shitting me.” His voice was low and disbelieving.

“Make up your fucking mind, Russell! First, you don’t believe me when I tell you I don’t know where she is, and now you don’t believe me when I say that I do?” Domenic shook his head in exasperation. “I know where she is.
Now what?”

“You have to tell me where!” Russ said excitedly. “They’ll have a SWAT team down there to rescue her!”

“Oh, yeah? And deliver her to the Chicago PD?”

“Yes!”

“A third of them are on the Liseni payroll. You may as well shoot her in the fucking head yourself and save everyone the hassle.” Domenic watched as Russell absorbed this information. He looked ready to argue, but saw the truth in Domenic’s expression.

“Fuck me.” Russell scrubbed his face with his hands.

“No, thank you.”

“Domenic, what the hell are we going to do?”

He stared at Russell for a minute and argued with himself. Domenic didn’t want to get his brother-in-law involved in this any more than necessary, but he knew now that he had to. First, he had to get Bianca and the Sutherlands out of the city so that they didn’t suffer from the fallout once Carlo realized what had happened. Second, he needed a safe person to whom he could entrust Alex, should anything happen to him. Domenic knew that Russell would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He made his decision.

“I’m kidnapping her tonight, and I’m going to bring her to a safe place till the trial,” Domenic told his friend.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Russell looked horrified at this revelation.

“Listen to me! When Carlo finds out what happened, none of you will be safe. Do you understand me?”

Comprehension flared in Russell’s eyes, which was soon followed by anger.

“What the fuck, Domenic! When were you planning on letting me know my whole family was going to be in danger? You asshole!” Russell jumped up from his chair, fists balled at his sides. The man looked ready to tackle him, and Domenic had to stop him before this escalated.

“I was going to call you as soon as we escaped!” he answered. “Look, shit hit the fan this morning, and I have to act fast. I was going to tell you everything and have you arrange for everyone to go to the retreat until everything was over.”

“Over? How do you figure this will ever be
over?”
Russell yelled at him. Domenic walked to him and grabbed his shoulders.

“You just have to trust me. Okay?” He stared at Russ hard, who after a moment nodded his head. “Good! Now, let’s figure out what to do, and then I have to go.”

“She’s pregnant, you know?” Russell said quietly.

Domenic’s heart dropped like a stone, and his stomach lurched when he registered what Russell had said. He swallowed the lump that had risen to his throat. “Bianca is pregnant?”

“Yeah. We just found out.”

“I swear to you, Russell nothing is going to happen to your family if you follow my instructions. I swear on my life.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I know, man. But just worry about yourself and Bianca. I know what I’m doing.”

Russell and Domenic sat down, and for the first time in the last six years, Domenic told someone the complete truth. They worked out all the details of what would happen once they left his condo. The family would leave tonight and be far away before Carlo knew what had happened. The Sutherlands would be well out of his reach in Mexico by the time anyone noticed Domenic and Alex were missing.

Domenic had to admit it was nice having Russell back in his life. These were undesirable circumstances, of course, but it felt like old times when they were thick as thieves and inseparable. Maybe when this was all over, they could work on repairing the damage their friendship had suffered over his decision to exact his revenge on Carlo. It was a vain hope, but he couldn’t stop the small wellspring that surfaced at the thought.

Shopping for provisions was next. Domenic left his condo once a pile of clothing and every weapon he owned was packed up in a large duffel bag. After stopping off to get some additional things he was running about half hour later than expected. When he pulled up behind the warehouse he removed his gun from his holster and got out of the car. If Vince didn’t give him a hard time, he could just knock him out and lock him in the room where Alex was being kept. Domenic knew someone would find him tomorrow, but by then they’d be long gone.

When Domenic walked into the main room, he realized he’d returned too late. Something had gone horribly wrong. Vince lay unmoving in the open doorway that had led into Alex’s prison. Domenic was about to check and see if he was dead or unconscious when he heard a voice yelling out.

“I’m going to find you, you little bitch! And when I do, you’re
dead!”

A
LEX
L
OOKED
A
T
H
ER
W
ATCH
and realized the hour had passed. If Domenic didn’t return in fifteen minutes, she would try to escape on her own. It seemed better this way now that she thought of it. She didn’t want to be indebted to him for anything, and she didn’t want him to risk his life for her. As payment for the debt she owed, if she was able to escape, she wouldn’t implicate him in anything. She would deny all knowledge of ever knowing him or seeing him. Alex hoped that would be good enough, and he would understand why she had done what she had.

The next five minutes were spent trying to psych herself up for what she was about to do. While Alex was happy to have the knife, at the moment she had no use for it. It was still safely tucked into her pocket as a contingency plan in the case of an emergency. After getting up on the chair to unscrew the light bulb, she prepared herself and got into position. It was difficult maneuvring around in the inky darkness but she was determined. Her heart was beating like thunder in her chest, she was perspiring, her mouth was dry, and she was scared witless. Once she had steeled herself up for the task at hand, she calmed and then opened her mouth to let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Just like Alex hoped, the bolt pulled back, and the door opened. Mr. Meek hadn’t had time to draw his weapon, nor would he think to because she was a lone girl in a locked room. He looked around for Alex in the darkness, and when she stepped out of the shadows, she heaved the contents of her waste bucket in his face. He screamed and stumbled backward, tripping over the chair she kicked into his path. When he fell over, she lifted the bucket and slammed it down on the back of his head.

“Make me piss and shit in a
bucket!”
she yelled furiously. She brought the bucket down on him again as he tried to crawl out the door. “Take that, fucker!”

After one more strike, she waited to see if he would get up again, but he didn’t. Alex let the bucket drop from nerveless fingers as she sobbed. Once she got a hold of herself, she looked at the still figure on the floor dispassionately. She considered trying to turn him over and take his gun, but she didn’t have the time or the patience to try. Not to mention she wouldn’t even know the first thing about firing a gun.

Alex was still pumped full of adrenaline as she turned and ran out of the room and down a long corridor toward the exit sign. Halfway there, the door opened and a figure was silhouetted against the night. It was too dark to see who stood there, and she skidded to a halt. Alex prayed it was Domenic, but the shape was wrong, and she had a sinking feeling that her luck had just run out. The man stepped forward, and a beam of moonlight illuminated his features for a moment before the door clanged shut.

“Fuck!” she muttered. She turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

There was the sound of heavy footsteps and cursing behind her. In a moment of self-preservation she reached into her pocket to grasp the knife hidden there. It was held loosely in her fist, but she didn’t depress the button to eject the blade. The last thing she needed was to fall and impale herself on its deadly tip.

As she raced back down the hallway, she noticed another door and threw it open, hoping whatever lay behind it would offer her more protection. Just as she was about to hurl herself into the dark, cavernous room, she was grabbed from behind. Alex screamed in frustration as she was pulled up against a hard body.

“You’re a lot more resourceful than I gave you credit for,” Mr. Mean rasped in her ear.

“You have
no
idea, asshole.” With that, she depressed the switch on the knife, pulled back her arm, and plunged the entire length of the blade into his thigh.

Alex knew from the movies that to create the maximum damage in a knife strike, she should twist the blade. She wrenched her wrist viciously as Mr. Mean screeched behind her. It had the desired effect, and he loosened his grip and pushed her away. Alex yanked at the knife handle, refusing to lose her weapon, even if it was useless against a gun. Mr. Mean screamed again and fell backward, clutching his leg.

Alex considered trying to jump over him and run back to the exit, but he started to draw his gun. Even injured, his chance of hitting her if she ran down that long hallway was too great. Pushing the door with her shoulder, she catapulted herself headlong into the dark. The fall to the floor may have saved her life. Alex felt, more than heard, the bullet as it whizzed past her head. It ricocheted off something, and the whine was almost deafening. She rolled on the floor and then scrambled up, ducking behind some ancient piece of machinery as he fired wildly three more times.

Chancing a look over her shield, she saw Mr. Mean struggling to get to his feet. While he was distracted, she ran further into the room. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark thanks to the large windows spaced along the perimeter of the room, but because they were inlaid with wire mesh and dust-grimed, it was still difficult to see. Alex tried to be as quiet as possible and was thanking the maker of rubber-soled ballet slippers as she stepped cautiously.

Mr. Mean wasn’t as concerned about keeping quiet, and she could hear him dragging his lame leg as he headed in the direction she had come. He had stopped shooting at least, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he didn’t want to waste his ammunition. That tipped Alex off to the fact that he must have just the one clip with him. Now, if only she knew how many bullets were in each clip. So far he had fired four bullets. In the movies the standard was six, but since she had no idea what type of gun he carried, she couldn’t depend on that theory.

Her palms were slick with sweat, and she wiped them against her pants. The last thing she needed was to lose her grip on the knife if she needed to use it quick. Mr. Mean was nearby. She cast about on the floor near her feet and found what she was looking for. There was a piece of metal under the machine she was crouched behind. It felt like a large bolt. Alex moved as carefully as possible and tossed the bolt toward the opposite side of the room with all her strength.

It banged against something and clattered to the floor. As predicted, Mr. Mean shot in the direction of the noise and walked briskly to where she had lobbed the bolt. Five bullets had now been discharged. Alex took the opportunity to move back toward the door they had come in. If she could manage to slip out while he was searching for her deeper in the warehouse, she might stand a chance of making it out of here.

“I’m going to find you, you little bitch! And when I do, you’re
dead!”

Alex’s heart was pounding hard in her chest, and she felt like the noise was loud enough alert him to her presence at any moment. She felt around on the floor some more but couldn’t find anything else that was light enough to throw. She didn’t want to try lobbing something heavy because it would fall too short and bring him closer to her. At that moment, she realized Mr. Mean was no longer making a lot of noise. That could mean one of two things—when she stabbed him, she nicked an artery and he’d bled to death
or
he figured out she would be able to evade him better the more of a racket he made. She was praying for the former but was pretty sure it was the latter.