Cry Assassin (3 page)

“You're a bad man.”

He chuckled at the child like cadence of the observation. “Am I now?”

“Yes, and bad men always get their comeuppance. Always.” She spoke with a sheltered, self-satisfied smugness that seemed genuine. He cocked his head to the side, wondering if she really believed that. If she did, she was simple minded. He made no effort to educate her at that moment. A simple woman would be easier to control than a recently disillusioned simple woman.

“As I'm a bad man, you'd better be careful to keep on the right side of me,” he said conversationally. “Here are the rules. You don't leave the house. You don't go near the windows. You can eat and drink anything you want in the house, but if you need anything you can't find here, you tell me and I'll get it for you. This is one week you'll survive easily if you follow those rules. If you decide to test them, you'll regret it in more ways than one.”

He let the threat hang between them, unspecified. She'd seen enough to know that he could make her life unbearable if he chose to do so, but he had no intention of harming her seriously if she decided to test his resolve. Kirk had better ways of handling a misbehaving woman, ways that would leave Evelyn's cute rounded behind stinging for days.

Chapter Two

Staring at her captor with muted loathing, Eve forced herself to remain calm. She was angry. Angry at her estranged father, who had lured her in and used her as bait, angry at the gangsters who had trussed her up with foul words and fouler threats, and even more angry at this man, this arrogant fool who appeared not to be afraid of death.

At first she'd been afraid that he might hurt her when he got her alone, but it was clear now that he intended to wait until the week was up. She was worth something to him, no, she wasn't worth something, her body was. She should never have answered the call that told her to meet her father at his office to discuss tuition for the coming year. She should have gone with her first impulse, to call him a liar and go to work. She was scraping together some savings as a waitress. It had been only a matter of time until she had enough to go to college on her own dollar. Now that plan lay in ruins. Even if she escaped now, she'd missed a shift without calling in. At Ringo's that meant you'd fired yourself.

She should have walked out when she had Kirk's gun, should have just gone. She couldn't have cared less what happened to the sack of shit that was her father, but she had no desire to be used to recover his debts and from what Kirk was saying, that was the plan. Tearing her eyes away from her lean jailer, she looked around the lounge, trying to distract herself from the thoughts that were leading her into panic's clammy embrace. It was a pleasant enough space lit naturally through large windows covered with net curtains. The furnishings were homely. A large television was mounted on the wall, but the furniture was oriented around a gas fireplace. She imagined that on cold winter's nights the heavy curtains that hung at the sides of the windows could be closed, the fireplace would be lit and the room would be toasty warm and cozy.

Kirk's eyes never left her. She felt him watching her even as she looked around the place, trying to form a fixed opinion of the man. In the basement he had scared her. He'd seemed ruthless and dangerous. Even the Russian gangsters had treated him with respect. Here in his home with his jacket shrugged off his shoulders, his shoulder holster empty he still seemed powerful, but he was far more relaxed.

She raised her eyes and met his for a long moment. He smiled, but it wasn't a real smile, it was the smile of a charmer, the smile of a man who knew how to make a lady swoon. It didn't reach the magnetic gray eyes which remained aloof. He was handsome, she decided. He had a dancer's body, muscular shoulders, but lean hips. Would he be capable of chasing her down if she ran from him? She was in pretty good shape, but men were usually faster than women. Perhaps if she got a head start, then she might have a chance. He chuckled at her, and this time the amusement did reach his eyes. “Look at you sizing me up. Are you planning on attacking me, little one?”

The casual endearment sent a jolt through her body. He thought her little. He thought her weak. And why not? Had she not deliberately cultivated that impression with her painted lips and painted fingernails? Had she not silently acquiesced to all he demanded and come with him as a willing prisoner? He thought himself smart, she could see that, but he was not as smart as her. She was still several steps ahead of him and though he had the upper hand, she was determined that it would not be for long.

“Violence is abhorrent,” she replied with a sniff of derision.

He smirked. “So naive,” he purred, settling himself onto the cream leather couch. “It is a great pity that your father put you in this position, Evelyn,” he said with mock empathy.

Eve didn't let herself believe for a moment that he felt any sympathy for her. No, this man was cold, calculating. Until her father had thrust her into the deal he hadn't bothered to give her a second look. He would have let her die down there if she hadn't proved useful to him. She did not reply to what was clearly an invitation to conversation. From the moment he'd had her alone, Kirk had been trying to draw her out into conversation. A sillier, more vapid girl might have thought that he was genuinely interested, but Eve knew precisely what was going on, he was trying to find some hook through which he could control her. The less he knew about her the better. That was why she let him think that she cared about her father's fate, why she'd been pretending to be concerned when he threatened the old man with death. She was advertising a weakness that did not exist.

“I'm going to take a shower,” he announced at length when she did not speak. She thought she sensed some irritation in his tone. It didn't scare her, she rather enjoyed it. The idea that she had the power to  make him uncomfortable pleased her greatly. “Remember those rules,” he said, giving her a hard look before he strode out of the room.

She heard doors opening and shutting and then she heard the shower go on. He was really going to take a shower apparently. He was arrogant enough to think that his threats and warnings were enough to keep her sitting there placidly. She smirked to herself. Her play acting had paid off. He thought her dull and compliant.

Eve waited until she heard the rhythm of falling water change as it started hitting his body and not the bottom of the shower, then she took her purse and tried the front door. It boasted some heavy deadbolts, but they were easily slid open from the inside and it was otherwise unlocked. With a broad smile on her face, she walked out the front door, down the garden path and let herself out the little white picket gate.

It was tempting to run, but running would draw attention from the nosy neighbors he'd mentioned. She didn't want any old biddies pointing her out, so she kept her speed down to a brisk walk as she looked for a way out of the neighborhood. Her prayers were answered when she rounded the block and saw a bus stop. An elderly woman and a disinterested teen boy were both waiting there, which told her a bus should be on its way shortly.

The wait for the bus was the most tension filled wait she'd ever had in her life. At any moment Kirk would discover that she was missing and then he would come tearing out of the house looking for her. She was only a few hundred yards down the street and the corner would not protect her forever. She checked her watch what felt like a hundred times, even though she had no idea when the bus was due. One minute passed, then two and she was certain that by now Kirk would be out of the shower. Would he have checked on her and discovered her absence? Or was he too arrogant to believe that she would dare defy him?

Three minutes ticked by, then four. At four minutes, the distant rumble of a bus made her heart leap with glee and the square, squat outline of the vehicle as it slowly came into view was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

Five minutes. Six minutes. The bus had pulled in at a stop further up the road. She shifted impatiently from foot to foot, willing it to start moving once more. In the distance behind her she was almost certain she heard a door slam. It was illogical to think she'd be able to hear Kirk looking for her from here, but it didn't stop her heart pounding in her chest.

Slowly, but surely, the bus drew closer and finally it was pulling up beside the stop. The shuffling gait of the elderly woman as she attempted to mount the step almost drove Eve wild. She wanted to rush forward and pick the lady up in her arms and toss her into the bus, but aside from being ridiculous and rude, it would certainly have caused a scene and probably slowed their departure. She held it together, gritting her teeth as the old woman, finally having made it onto the bus began digging in her purse for the fare.

Every part of Eve's skin prickled with anxiety. She could almost feel harsh fingers descending on her arm, detaining her, but the old woman was shuffling towards a seat now and the teenage boy had a bus pass. Eve made her way into the bus quickly and handed the driver a ten dollar note. She might as well have punched him in the face with the look he gave her. “Correct change only,” he snapped, jabbing a finger towards the sign.

“Keep the change,” Eve snapped in response, diving into the depths of the bus like a woman pursued by a tiger. She glanced out the smudged windows as she sat, and to her relief saw no sign that Kirk was after her just yet. The bus began to move and the beautiful sense of relief almost brought laughter bubbling to her lips. She'd escaped!

* * *

Hot and wet, Kirk emerged from the shower. He dried himself off briskly, wrapped one pristine white towel around his waist and draped another over his shoulders. The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, he felt something was wrong. The house felt quiet. Empty.

With a muttered curse, he went into the lounge where he'd left Evelyn. She was gone, and more disturbingly, so was her purse. With quick efficiency he checked the rest of the house. She really was gone. Damningly, the bolts on the front door had been pulled open. She'd waltzed out the door whilst he'd been showering and congratulating himself on having intimidated his dim captive into obedience.

“Idiot,” he insulted himself, curling his fingers into fists.

Dressing quickly, he went out onto the street, but there was no sign of her. She'd had a full ten minutes to get away now. What if she'd flagged down a car or gone to the police? She could bring a world of trouble down on all their heads if she had. No. He couldn't think like that. He had to believe he'd find her before she went blabbing to anyone. 

He went inside, straight to his computer. He needed as much information as he could get on Miss Evelyn Day and he needed it quickly. The usual sources did not reveal much, she had no criminal record, so there was no information there. Aside from her father, she had no criminal contacts at all. All he could get was a registered address. That was better than nothing. Kirk knew from experience that most people on the run usually went somewhere familiar and comforting. For Evelyn that would probably be home.

She lived on the other side of the city, near the university. She might not be going to college, but she was certainly living amongst peers that did. That worked for him. He'd pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a crisp blue shirt when he was getting dressed and he put on a tweed jacket so that he'd probably do a decent impression of someone's father. He was only just enough to have fathered a college aged child, but he was close enough and college kids weren't exactly known for their stellar observational skills anyway.

The drive to the other side of town was a frustratingly long one that took almost an hour. Every minute she was out of his sight was another minute in which everything could go horribly wrong. When he finally arrived in her neighborhood he parked a block away from her address out of habit and began walking. It was a pleasant enough neighborhood, with trees lining the streets. It was noisy though, he could hear no fewer than five stereos blaring different music at one another. The cacophony would have done his head in if he'd lived there.

Evelyn's apartment building had security in the form of a lower door that required a key code, but a thoughtful soul had propped the door open with a chair and Kirk was able to wander right on in. Her apartment was on the third floor, so he took the stairs quickly two at a time. The door to her apartment was closed and locked. He rapped on the door, but there was no reply. That meant she either wasn't there or she wasn't answering the door. It didn't really matter one way or the other, he was getting in. The lock that secured her door was almost as dismal as the level of security in the lobby of the building. He had a lock picking set in his pocket, but he didn't need it, the cheap lock gave way to a quick hard swipe of a credit card and he was in.

Her apartment was small and run down, but neatly kept. There were only two rooms, the main room which served as kitchen, lounge and bedroom and another room which functioned as a bathroom, though by the stench that was rising from the pipes, only barely. How could Phil let his daughter live like this? He had money, it made no sense that his daughter should live in a run down apartment with mushrooms growing out of the plumbing. Evelyn wasn't there, but he'd bet money that she'd show up at some point. He locked the door up again and retired to a bucket seat that looked as if it had been salvaged from a dumpster to wait.

Keys in the door caught his attention not twenty minutes later. With soft steps, he took refuge next to the door so that he would be behind it when it was opened. Entirely unaware of the fact there was someone inside, Evelyn unlocked the  door and scurried into the room, slamming the door behind her. He watched her from behind for several long seconds as she placed her purse on the crate that passed for a coffee table and took her high heels off, groaning as she rubbed her feet.

“Running in heels takes a toll, huh,” Kirk observed dryly.

Evelyn shrieked in surprise and whirled around, holding one high heel in her hand, brandishing it like a weapon. “Get away from me,” she demanded with entirely useless fierceness.