14

His guest didn’t drink or eat. Fear coiled in his stomach, making digestion impossible. So he watched, picking at his plate of salade niçoise, wondering why he’d bothered to order anything. French wasn’t his preferred choice of fare, but he hadn’t had a say in which restaurant they dined in. It was foolish enough for them to be seen together.

L’Uomo enjoyed his meal thoroughly, wading through the three courses and finishing with a cheese plate. Wiping his mouth carefully, he politely belched in gastronomic ap

preciation and finally looked his dining companion in the eye.

“So. Lazarus returns from the dead at last. I was won

dering when you were going to surface. You’re like a bad pe

“That’s not entirely fair,” he protested. “You were the reason I needed to disappear. And putting out a hit on me was rather impolite, don’t you think?”

L’Uomo flicked a hand in a

14

283

A nice offer, one worth careful consideration. Of course, nothing about L’Uomo was ever that simple.

“Who?”

“You’ll see soon enough. Are you finished?” L’Uomo looked with derision at the pathetically full plate. He had no tolerance for weakness. “No appetite?”

“No, I guess I don’t. Shall we go, then? I’m not com

fortable being here. I’d like to get this over with.”

“Fine. I have a little present to show you. Perhaps then you’ll understand the seriousness of the situation. The limo will pick you up in thirty minutes. Do try to eat.”

L’Uomo stood and quitted the room, smiling benevo

lently at each patron as he walked out.

His companion uttered a single word at his old friend’s back.

“Bastard.”

Thirty-Five

Unknown

Monday, December 22

1:30 p.m.

Taylor shifted in the wooden chair. Her arms were tied tightly at the wrist to the back legs, arching her back and straining her shoulders. She could bend her wrists up toward the ceiling, a mistake on her captor’s part. She used her long, dexterous fingers to work on the knots. She was wishing for a blanket—the room was freezing and they’d stripped her down to her panties and bra—

when she realized she wasn’t alone anymore. Her fingers stopped; she closed her eyes, feigning sleep. A scent drifted to her nose—cedar, lime, a touch of mint. A man’s scent.

“I know you’re awake. I’ve been watching you. Indus

trious little thing, aren’t you?”

Taylor opened her eyes. A middle-height gentleman stood before her. His gray worsted wool suit was a chalk pinstripe Saville Row, the knot in his burgundy tie just so, 14

285

a crisp white shirt with platinum cuff links in the French cuffs. Dad had a suit like that once. The thought nearly undid her. He was wearing a ski mask. Incongruous, the terrorist chic and the British finery.

“Fuck. You.”

The man laughed. “Oh, aren’t you the little lady? I should wash that filthy mouth out with soap.”

“What do you want?”

“There, a much more important statement. Say please, and I’ll tell you.”

Taylor stared coolly. Never.

The man stared back at her, blue eyes burning behind the mask, then arranged his lips in an unpleasant grin.

“Good. You’re a strong one. That’s what I’ve heard. I have a business proposition for you.”

“Untie me first.”

“So you can escape? Not a chance. Not yet. I’ll let you go when the time is right. When I know you’re going to coop

erate.And cooperate you will, Lieutenant. Trust me on that.”

“I seriously doubt it.”

The man traced a finger along Taylor’s jawline, slowly working his way to her collarbone. “There are ways.”

Taylor jerked her head away and the man laughed. “I love how feisty you are. You will cooperate, and I will make sure you get out of here unscathed. Fight, put up a fuss, and I’ll have you killed. That’s all. Now. You have a situation back home that I can help with.”

“This is about the Snow White case?”

The man turned and raised an eyebrow. “That peon of a killer? Hardly. You’re closer to him than you think, Lieu

tenant. But no, this has nothing to do with him. This is about family. And honor. Things you pretend to respect.”

286

J.T. Ellison

He took a few steps backward, toward the door, as if a bit of distance would give him better perspective on his prisoner. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared her down.

“I don’t pretend to respect my family. I have no feelings for them at all. You’ve obviously misunderstood the situa

tion,” she said.

“Hmm.” The man put his arms behind his back and cocked his head like a spaniel puppy trying to identify a new noise. “No feelings for your family? Maybe not your parents—that bitch of a mother of yours, that traitorous father—no. I can see you having a bit too much integrity to care for them.” He bit out the word integrity, making it sound sordid and misplaced. Taylor shifted uncomfort

ably.

“No, I mean your chosen family. Your compadres. Your comrades in arms, so to speak. Those men who hold you in such high esteem. Loyalty is a precious commodity, Lieutenant. But it should never be taken for granted. No, I think you have a great deal of feeling for those people, the ones you choose to share your life with. I’d hate to see something happen to any one of them.”

Taylor rocked back in the chair, nearly tipping over in her vehemence. “You bastard! You steal me away and threaten my life, threaten my friends. Who the hell do you think you are?”

He crossed to Taylor in a flash, grabbed a handful of her dirty hair and yanked her head back, exposing her delicate throat. A small knife flashed in her peripheral vision and pressed hard against her carotid, a cold and rigid reminder of how precarious the situation really was. It took every ounce of her being not to flail and struggle. 14

287

That’s what he wanted. To put her in this vulnerable position. He caressed her scar with the point of the knife, and she felt nauseous.

“I’m the one who has you tied to a chair, and don’t you ever forget it. Now, stop reacting, or we’ll never get any

thing accomplished. You have a situation that needs to be handled. We can talk about the specifics once you under

stand the stakes. And if I’m not being clear enough, let me throw this in to sweeten the pot. If something happens to jeopardize my interests in your fair city, I’ll start taking your friends’ heads off, one by one. Now, you sit tight. Dusty will attend to you, get you some food. Then I have someone who wants to meet you. He’ll be here shortly.”

He turned the knob and strode from the room, the door slamming behind him with a brutal metal clang. Well. That was interesting.

The second the door shut, Taylor went to work on her bonds. A little more and she’d have them undone. Then he’d see just how much she was willing to cooperate. As she dug at the knots, she mulled the voice over and over in her head. Who is that man? What is so familiar about him? There was something, just out of reach, but the co

thing about that voice.

In her mind, a kidnapper had two purposes, extort money or get revenge. There had to be another agenda here. Family. This wouldn’t have anything to do with her biological family. The threats against Baldwin and Fitz, Lincoln and Marcus were clear. But why? What in the world had she done to cross this madman’s path? Had she wronged him in some way? An old case? He said he had interests in Nash