Part 31 (1/2)

And likely released. h.e.l.l and d.a.m.n. Their hope of getting out alive evaporated now that they had a name for their attacker. He couldn't let them live. And obviously everyone would know that.

An exasperated sigh slid through the mask right before he peeled it off, sandy-colored hair standing on end. ”You never could learn when to keep your mouth shut, could you, pal?”

Kurt Haugen pitched aside the mask, grabbing her arm again before she could inch more than a whisper away. The barrel of the gun cut into her side. She didn't dare risk more movement even with his attention focused on Chris and Bo.

She stole a quick check on J.T. in the closet. His eyes opened, not much but enough for her to know he was awake and plotting. He stared straight at her, two fingers flicking. She frowned. He repeated the flicking gesture until she understood.

He wanted her to lead the man away, keep him occupied. Give J.T. a chance to slip out and catch him unaware.

At least that's what she hoped he meant.

They had a single edge. Haugen didn't know J.T. was awake and untied-an edge that wouldn't last long once Haugen regrouped.

She prayed Chris wouldn't ask about his father and remind the man. ”Hon, I'm okay. Everything will be fine as long as we stay calm. And now that Bo's here, maybe he can help Mr. Haugen with the information he needs. Is your flight bag in the kitchen or the Jeep?”

”Whoa. Hold on a minute” Haugen interrupted with an easygoing smile, as if doing nothing more than asking friends to wait up for him on the golf course. ”n.o.body goes anywhere unless I say so. And I say we go to the kitchen and figure out what the h.e.l.l's going on.”

He jerked her forward-without sparing so much as a backward glance at J.T.-and ushered them all into the kitchen.

”I had a good thing going, pal,” Haugen tsked at Chris, ”until you opened your mouth.” Frowning, he glanced back over his shoulder.

J.T.

She had to keep this guy talking. Narcissists loved to talk about themselves, right? ”What do you mean, a good thing?”

”The drug running, of course. Well, until your kid got weirded out by moving a little money for us. Geez,

we would have paid him well. The two military dudes were more than happy to figure out a way to pay

their maxed credit cards.”

”Why not leave the country? Why take a chance breaking into our house, holding us this way? It sounds like you're smarter than that.” Keep talking. Cover noises.

”Because I can't just run off, even if there was somewhere to hide from my boss. I'm accountable to people, people who expect something from me on this end-which I will have once I have the flight schedule. The feds are getting a little too snoopy after those surveillance flights. Once I have the schedule in hand, we can reroute our guys' paths and times accordingly for a final big payoff. Then the family will relocate me.”

Like a kaleidoscope, his words and images jumped in her mind-drugs, family, threats, emblems...

Her gaze dropped back to his belt buckle. Finally she remembered why it had seemed so familiar painted on the brick. ”OhmiG.o.d.”

The red circle, black triangle inside.

Revulsion shuddered through her. She knew exactly where she'd spotted those markings before, symbols

that were well-kept secrets known only to those on the inside. This insignia represented one of the most

powerful Mob families.

A perverted coat of arms she'd seen as a child while peeking through the banister rails at her father's ”business” guests.

Voices fading with footsteps, J.T. shook his hands free of the loosely wrapped cord. He crouched low, peering through the thin gap between the hinges of the open door.

Haugen stood in the kitchen archway with Rena at his side. He jammed his gun deeper in her side.

J.T.'s hands fisted. He channeled the rage, training never more important than now.

Instincts. Breathe. a.s.sess.

Rena asked Haugen some question that left the man furrowing his forehead in concentration. Good job,

babe.

Sliding into the hall, J.T. kept his observation peripheral now. No looking at the b.a.s.t.a.r.d and setting off the internal radar that might cause him to check his six o'clock.

Haugen chuckled. ”So you recognize my belt buckle, Mrs. Price. Not many would. Maybe it was a little egotistical of me to place it on my calling card through your window, but I figured your son would make the connection with Miranda's necklace.”

J.T. processed the periphery view. Rena and Haugen in the doorway. Chris by the table. Bo, to Rena's right, by the refrigerator. Moving infinitesimally. Trying to work a rescue solo? Or had he seen J.T.? And what about Chris?

Come on, somebody. Get back to distracting Haugen. J.T. wound his way through the hall, grateful for the clutter and oversize plants that provided a h.e.l.luva lot more cover than desert. This was his turf, d.a.m.n it.

Chris backed until his b.u.t.t b.u.mped the counter. ”You've been running drugs? And now you're going off with Miranda Casale?”

”Miranda?” Haugen's face whipped up, his body moving forward, deeper into the kitchen-way to go, Chris. ”G.o.d, no. Aside from the fact that she's the don's niece, I love my wife. Why would I screw around with Miranda Casale? Besides, she's too young and too obvious. She was sent down to keep an eye on her uncle's interests.”

Rena leaned on her right foot, the gun barrel inching out of her side. ”If you love your wife, how could you leave her like this?”

d.a.m.n straight, Rena. Good men don't leave their women behind. He heard the message loud and clear, and wouldn't be repeating his mistake.

”I'm taking my wife and daughter with me.”

Bo stepped closer. ”Your wife's a part of this, too?”