behind Jen, only slowing her down a bit. The air was brisk, and the
snow was falling only lightly. Jen could see that the crowds had
thinned out. They would be on the mountain where the day’s
competition was getting started. It made the streets of Bliss nice and quiet. Only the park would be bustling at this point. The rest of Bliss was a bit of a ghost town. Jen made it to the front of the office first and pulled on the outer door. It was locked. She banged on it.
“Logan, wake up!” Jen yelled as she pounded on the door. Logan
was not known for being the most dedicated deputy. He could often
be found napping or reading comic books with his earbuds in.
“Logan!”
“Stop that,” Rachel said, frowning. Beside her, Q sat down and
stared up at the women. “You’re going to wake the poor boy up. I
know where Callie hid a key. Nate throws Max in jail often enough
that she let me in on her secret.”
Rachel reached under the sign that proudly proclaimed this place
to be the Bliss County Sheriff’s Office and pulled out a small
magnetic box.
“Only in Bliss would someone hide the key to the Sheriff’s
Office,” Jen said, shaking her head.
Rachel slipped the key into the lock and turned it. She started to
open the heavy outer door that led to the swinging doors inside. She
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stopped suddenly. “Why was the door locked? Didn’t Stella say she
sent Holly with breakfast? Logan wouldn’t lock the door after Holly.”
Jen paused as she stepped inside, Rachel behind her. “I don’t
know. Do you think something’s wrong?”
As she got the words out of her mouth the answer became very,
very apparent.
“You must to come in now, Miss Jennifer.” Alexei stood in the
doorway, his bulky body blocking the entrance, a gun fisted at his
side.
Jen watched in horror as he leveled the gun, aiming it straight for
her head. Yep, something was very, very wrong.
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Chapter Eighteen
“It’s a woman.” Alexei’s dark voice was tossed over his shoulder,
but his eyes never left her. They were hard as steel. “What should I do with her?”
Utter confusion was making her head spin. Alexei was out of his
cage, and he had a gun in his hand. Jen could hear a conversation
going on in the office, but she couldn’t see past Alexei. She heard
someone speaking, his voice rough, almost guttural. It was a language
she didn’t understand. It had to be Russian. Oh, god, Alexei’s mob
friends were here. He’d tricked everyone into believing he was on
their side, and now he’d taken over the station house.
“It’s just one woman, Nikolai. I think I can handle her.”
Rachel took a quick step back.
He was letting Rachel go. He had to know she would go for help.
He looked past Jen at Rachel, and he gave her a barely perceptible
nod before reaching out and grabbing Jen’s arm. She turned her head
as fast as she could and saw Rachel disappear as the outer door
closed.
“You are not Jennifer,” Alexei announced into her ear as he pulled
her roughly into the room.
“Jen?” Holly’s voice trembled.
Jen heard Alexei curse under his breath, but it looked like
whatever game he was playing, this piece was blown. Jen looked
around the room as her pulse threatened to explode. She saw Holly
standing by Logan’s desk, her face white as a sheet, but she appeared
unharmed.
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The shortest of the men stepped forward. He was dressed in a suit
and tie, his graying hair slicked back. He was older, but by no means
soft. He said something in Russian as he looked her over. Alexei
replied, his manner slightly deferential, as though he was speaking to his boss. He finished and nodded slightly.
“Hello,” the boss said. “My name is Dimitri Pushkin. You are
Jen was somewhat startled at the sound of Renard’s name. She
knew she shouldn’t have been, chided herself for it. He was the
asshole who had gotten her into this situation in the first place. “I
worked for him.”
Jen watched Alexei as he moved to Holly’s side. His arm slid
around her shoulder, hauling her close. All the while, he held the
weapon casually at his side, yet his eyes never left the other two men in the room. It seemed to Jen that Alexei was watching two snakes,
waiting to see which would strike first.
“Yes, and it seems you worked against him, too.” Pushkin walked
up to her, his finger lifting to her chin. Jen forced herself to stay still under his scrutiny. The Sheriff’s Office wasn’t exactly the biggest
building in town. She found herself against the reception desk with no real place to run now that the doors were locked again. Her only hope
was that Rachel still had the key. She glanced at the clock. 10:23 a.m.
The streets were deserted, but Zane was still at Stella’s. All Rachel
had to do was get back there and get Zane. Zane would bring
everyone else. She just had to hold on.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister.” Ignorance might
buy her a few minutes.
“I am talking about the painting I purchased. I would like it back.”
“I don’t know where the Picasso is.” It was the truth. She had no
idea, and it was apparent that Alexei didn’t want Holly to talk. The
minute Pushkin had started toward Jen, his hand had tightened on her
shoulders as though in warning.
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Pushkin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t give a shit about the Picasso,
and you know it. I want the painting I purchased from Renard. Your
painting.”
“My painting? But my painting is the one that Renard hid the
Picasso behind.”
“Silly girl. That’s what I told my employees. Trust me, what is
hidden behind your work is much more valuable than any painting to
me. Now, you can tell me where it is, or you can join the deputy.”
That was when she heard it, a low moan coming from Nate’s
office. It sounded like an animal in pain. She tried to dismiss the
notion that the person who made that low, utterly hopeless sound
could possibly be happy-go-lucky Logan.
There was a humorless chuckle from Pushkin. “Americans. I see
you are shocked. This is because you are the world’s children, every
one of you. You believe that life is innately fair when the rest of the world knows that it is not. You tell yourself that pain and horror, these are things that happen to other people. Certainly not to someone as
privileged as yourself.” He leaned in. She could feel the heat of his
breath snaking over her skin, smell the stink of cigars on him. “But I am your teacher. The world is not fair, little girl. It is not some
amusement park.”
There was the sound of something thudding and then that long,
low moan that ate at Jen’s soul. She felt her jaw clench and angry
tears prick at her eyes. “You’re a monster.”
The door to Nate’s office opened, and a man stepped out. He
looked somethi
ng like the man backing up Pushkin. He was dark and
nasty looking. He had taken off his coat and jacket at some point in
time. Jen could see he had laid them over a chair. He was stripped
down to a white T-shirt that was now splattered with blood. Jen’s
mind tried to grasp the implications of that bright red blood. He said something in Russian and shook his head.
Pushkin grunted his reply before slipping back into English. His
lips curled up in a satisfied smile. “You call me a monster? I am. Do
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you know anything about history, little girl? I find so few Americans
do. Back in Rome when the gladiators would fight, the patron of the
games would stand at the end of the fight, and he would decide the
fate of the loser. If he gave a thumbs-up, the man would live. But that did not happen often. He would more likely give the thumbs-down,
and the loser would fall. So much life lost on the simple placement of a thumb. But the Romans understood. There are only a few people in
the world who truly matter. The powerful people of this world are the
important ones. The rest are all slaves who have forgotten their
places. Your deputy is learning this lesson right now. He learns that
his control was an illusion. His life is not his own, and it never was.
He was merely waiting for someone important to show him his
place.”
Impotent rage choked her. “You let him go.”
“Now, why would I do that? He has offended me. He arrested my
man, kept him from doing a very important job for me. More
importantly, I don’t care. He is nothing, a bug that I squash beneath
my feet.”
Logan, sweet, funny Logan, was at this man’s mercy, and he had
none. She couldn’t help it. Her hand came out, and she slapped him
for all she was worth. Flesh met flesh in a satisfying smack. The man
who had been standing by the door was suddenly at her side, his thick, meaty hand tight around the arm she’d hit Pushkin with.
“Don’t break the girl.” Pushkin barked the order. He gave no
indication that he was at all affected by her small act of violence.
“Yet. The little girl has claws. I believe you will discover mine are
longer and sharper than yours. You will tell me where the painting is, and I will give you a quick death.”
All the more reason to be happy she had no idea where the damn
thing was. Pain might be in her future, but Rachel would be back.
Rachel would bring Zane and Nate and, god, she wanted Stef. She
wanted to see him and hold him and have him tell her she was going
to be okay. The thought of never seeing Stef again, never holding
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him, was too much to bear. She had to endure whatever this man
handed out because she had to be alive when Stef came for her.
“I don’t know.” The world was fuzzy through her tears.
Pushkin frowned and turned to the man in the bloodstained T-
shirt. “Luka, go and finish the deputy. We need the space for another
interrogation. This one will be more fun for you, no?”
Alexei whispered something to Holly, who turned her mouth up to
his and let him kiss her, their mouths pressing together in something
that seemed staged to Jen. He stopped Luka with a hand to the other
man’s shoulder. “I would do this myself. I am the one he stuck in a
fucking cage like a dog.”
Luka looked to Pushkin, who nodded his assent. “Let Alexei have
his blood. You will have the girl’s soon enough since her tongue
seems unwilling.”
Luka smiled at her, a dark, wicked thing. “I think I will use
different strategy with such a pretty girl. We’ll see if I can fuck the information out of her.”
Pushkin laughed as the men disappeared behind the door.
It was only a moment before Jen heard the shot that ended
Logan’s suffering.
She heard Holly gasp and placed a fist in her own mouth to stop
the wail that threatened.
She looked at the clock. Ten thirty.
Stef would be here. Stef would come for her. It was a mantra in
her head. She closed her eyes and prayed.
* * * *
Stef slammed into the back of the café at exactly 10:25. He
pushed through the back doors from the alley and into the kitchen just as Zane was carrying a distinctly green Callie out toward the parking
lot and his truck.
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“Hey, you okay, Cal?” Stef asked, stepping around Hal, who was
busy making sandwiches. Hal frowned at all of them. He didn’t like
the fact that they were in his kitchen, but he kept his mouth closed
because Stef rarely used the front door.
She smiled wanly from her big brute’s arms. “I’m fine, Stef. Just a
little pregnant.”
“I’m going to take her home now that the morning’s fun seems to
be over,” Zane said, looking a little green himself. “Tell Nate where
we are if you see him.”
“Sure thing. Where’s Jennifer? Max said she was with Callie and
Rachel?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice.
Zane shrugged. “Don’t know. They must have left while Callie
was heaving half her body weight in the bathroom.”
“Gross.” She smacked Zane in the chest, but Stef didn’t miss the
way she cuddled against him as though she could draw his strength
into her body.
“If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her. You try her
cell?”
“She’s not answering,” Stef replied. He turned and saw Stella at
the counter. She was talking to his father. Zane and Callie continued
out toward the parking lot. Stef stalked to the counter, pushing
through the swinging doors, a restless feeling in his gut.
He didn’t fail to notice that Stella’s hand was in his father’s, their fingers entwined. He was happy for his father and Stella, but he
couldn’t let that take precedence over his need to find Jennifer and
that painting.
“Stella, where did Jen go?” Stef asked, well aware that his voice
was gruff.
Stella’s face looked years younger as she turned to Stef. Her hand
never left Sebastian’s. “She was here just a bit ago. She and Rachel
went to find Holly.”
A deep voice spoke up from the end of the counter. “Holly came
back?”
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Stef glanced at the doctor, who was sitting at the end of the
counter, sipping a mug of coffee, and it hit him. Who the hell else in this town would let Holly talk him into buying a painting for far, far more than it was worth right now? Stef knew Jen’s paintings would
be worth more one day, but for now, it was only of interest to
investment collectors. Holly couldn’t know that it was worth
anything. Who would she sell it to? Who else but the man who had
walked into town and promptly fallen in love with her? Oh, Stef knew
Caleb hadn’t made a single move on her yet, but he brooded enough
to let the world know he was crazy about her. As a man who had
spent an enormous amount of time brooding over a female, he knew
the signs and could diagnose the good doc’s disease.
“Where did you stash the pain
ting?” Stef asked, unwilling to
waste a ton of time.
Caleb sat up straight. “The painting? I don’t paint.”
Stef bit back a moan of frustration. He’d already forgotten. “The
one you bought from Holly?”
Caleb’s eyes suddenly found his coffee mug as though he was
seeking something there. “Oh, that. Yeah, I loved that painting. So
beautiful.”
“Cut the crap. Everyone knows you have a thing for Holly.”
“No, I don’t. I’m married.” Caleb shook his head, running his
hand across his face. “I mean, I was married. I…it’s too soon to think about anyone else. Holly is just a nice girl.”
Caleb’s wife had been dead for five years, but Stef wasn’t about to
argue with him. “Where is it?”
He shrugged, as though content to put the other line of
conversation behind him. “I put it in my office. It’s in a closet. I
haven’t had time to put it up.”
It would have to do for now. “Good. Keep it there. Don’t let
anyone into your office until I get Nate off the mountain. Stella, try calling him. If that doesn’t work, someone go down and wake Logan
up. I have to find Jennifer and get her somewhere safe.”
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“Didn’t Jennifer go down to the Sheriff’s Office?” His father had
already pulled out his cell and passed it to Stella.
Stef heard a dog barking as the doors to the diner came open, and
Rachel stumbled in. Everyone was on their feet in an instant. Stef
managed to get to her just as she began to fall to the floor. Her face was red and covered in tears.
“Oh, god, not again.” She moaned as her whole body seized and
pain contorted her face into a grimacing mask.
“Rachel, how far apart are the contractions?” Caleb knelt beside
her, his hand finding her wrist. For all his tics and odd mannerisms, the minute he needed to, he became a cool, calm professional.
She shook her head. “No contractions. It’s just a little pain.”
Stubborn. It described Rachel to a T. Stef tried to settle her down.
“Rachel, I see your stomach seizing. You’re in labor. I can tell, and I don’t have a medical degree.”
“I can’t have the baby now,” she said, her voice hitching with