Steal My Heart (12 page)

“We have to go down the side of the building,” she whispered to Holly. “I’m going to put you in here.”

Wide-eyed with terror, her little girl nodded.

“That’s a good girl. Be as brave as you can.”

She nodded again and Paige felt a surge of pride. As fast as she could, she put Holly into the bag, hefted it onto her back and strapped it to her chest. She was heavy, but she could manage the weight.

“Hold on tight.”

Holly wrapped her little arms around her and the touch of them gave Paige all the resolve she needed. She lifted the rope and examined it. The hook would hold. Mark would have made sure of that.

One final time, she glanced through the glass doors. Her heart stopped. Mark and Jimar were gone. Laroche stood in the doorway, staring after them.

Then he turned his head toward her.

She had to go now. As fast as she could, she settled the hook onto the railing and wrapped the rope around her waist. Gripping it tight, she swung her leg over the banister.

Down they went.

Dangling in mid air with the weight of both of them, her arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets but she bit back the pain as she struggled to find her footing. The skirt of her dress caught on something, ripped and began to flap against the stone while her high heels knocked the slippery wall. Why on earth had she dressed up tonight?

It took what seemed like an hour, but at last she settled the soles of her shoes against the rough surface. Hand under hand, step by step, she began their descent.

How in the world had Mark done this? Would her strength hold out until she reached the bottom? All twenty floors? Maybe she could find a balcony with the lights on, stop there and get help from someone.

She inched her way down. She could feel the next balcony getting nearer.

“Mommie,” Holly whispered in her ear. “I’m scared.”

Paige forced steadiness into her voice. “Hold on, sweetheart. We’re almost to the next level.” Like a video game, she told herself.

She dared to look down. Only a few feet away. She was beginning to feel almost confident when a dark voice rang out overhead.

“No, you don’t.”

She looked up and saw Laroche’s evil face hovering over them like a vulture. Don’t panic. Hand under hand. She and Holly descended another foot.

“I wouldn’t keep going if I were you.”

She glanced up again and saw he had a large knife in his hand that he must have grabbed from the wet bar. He began hacking at the rope.

Holly screamed.

Panic hammered in Paige’s ears. She fought it back as hard as she could. “That won’t work,” she shouted to Laroche. “This rope’s too strong.” She hoped.

“I know a lot more about it than you do, my dear.”

He was lying. He had to be. She glanced down. They were inches from the banister on the floor below. She had to risk it. She moved her hand and they dropped down another six inches. Her foot hit the surface of the stone railing.

“Didn’t you hear the man?” Jimar appeared next to Laroche on the balcony overhead. He’d found his gun and the barrel of it shone like a cannon in the dark night. “I’ll shoot the girl.”

“No!” Paige screamed, struggling to get her balance on the balcony below. But Jimar reached for the rope and yanked her away from it.

Twirling helplessly in the air, she felt them go up again.

Feeling like his heart would explode with grief, Mark shot down the stairwell as fast as he could.

When he’d seen Paige go out the glass doors, he’d grabbed hold of the doorframe, swung his legs hard and kicked Jimar with all his might, knocking him into Laroche. They’d both gone down with an oof. Then he’d run, heading for the stairs, hoping they’d come after him.

Jimar had. He could hear the giant’s ragged breath and lumbering steps clattering behind him as he descended the first five floors. Then the noises disappeared. Jimar must have gone back to aid Laroche, who must still be in the room.

Mark came to a halt on the step, wondering if he should go back. Their whole plan had gone to pieces when he’d seen Holly. And the fistfight had made things even worse. If only he hadn’t lost his gun, he would have killed both Laroche and Jimar. He might have gone to prison for life, but Paige and Holly would be safe. Too late now. Maybe.

He stared down the stairwell. Down or back up?

Paige would take Holly and try to get down to ground with the equipment he’d left on the balcony. That was tricky without practice. Did she have any experience at all? He had no idea if she’d done anything like scaling down the side of a building in the last three years. Would she make it? He couldn’t think about that. He just had to get down to the ground fast to help guide her.

Without Jimar behind him, he could use the elevator now. Sweaty and gasping for breath, he shoved the stairwell door open and headed for the open silver doors. He slipped between them just before they closed.

Hurry. He cursed at the descending numbers that seemed to be taking a year between each one.

Alone in the compartment, his head pounded with Laroche’s words. Holly was his daughter. His child. Laroche was a notorious liar, but he was telling the truth about that one. The little girl looked just like himself. He’d known it even if Paige hadn’t admitted it. Why hadn’t she told him? She’d even lied about her age. She must have discovered she was pregnant right after he was arrested. After she’d divorced him. He guessed she’d never intended to tell him at all. Did she think those eyes that were so much like his own and that dark hair would be lost on him when he saw her?

No time to think more about it now.
The doors pinged open and Mark raced into the lobby. He had to get outside. He had to get to Paige and guide her down before she and Holly fell to their deaths.

He had to save his girls.

There were maybe half a dozen people milling about under the chandeliers with drinks in their hands, like there was a party going on.

Mark sprinted across the fancy tiled floor and shouted to the clerk on duty as he passed the front desk. “Call the police.”

One of the party-goers turned to him with a scowl.

So did the desk clerk. “I beg your pardon?”

“There’s an emergency. Suicide. Someone’s about to jump.” That would get more attention than the real story.

With a look of both confusion and alarm, the clerk picked up the phone.

Thank God. As fast as his legs could move, Mark headed toward to the front door. He dashed through the entrance, onto the sidewalk and ran smack into a man in a dark suit and tie.

Supervisory Special Agent John Foley—his FBI boss.

Mark recognized the skinny nerd and the tall, muscular ruddy-faced dude on either side of Foley. Special Agents Jake Theobald and Ed Kelser—also dressed in dark suits and ties, though they were shabbier than the ones you see in movies.

Kelser caught him by the arm. “Whoa, there.” He grinned with satisfaction. “Well, well. Look who we have here. So nice of you to check in with us, Storm.”

Mark ignored his sarcasm. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this scene, but it would have to do. “Glad you’re here, boss man,” he said to Foley between gasps for breath, breaking out of Kesler’s grip. “You’re just in time to help me rescue a woman and her child.”

Foley curled a sardonic lip. “Say what?”

Mark started toward the building’s corner. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

Foley caught him by the bicep, shoved him back. “You’re not going anywhere, Storm.”

“We’ve got to go now.”

“Not until you tell me where the hell you’ve been all this while.”

“For God’s sake, Foley. Lives are at stakes.” Mark heard the panic in his own voice. It must have been convincing.

His boss pursed his lips, twisted them back and forth, then slowly turned to his men. “Okay, gentlemen. Let’s humor Mr. Storm. But don’t let him get away.”

Who was getting away? Didn’t he just say he needed their help? “This way.”

Mark jogged down the sidewalk and rounded the corner, Foley and his cronies right alongside him. The few pedestrians on the street moved to the side and hurried away. Mark noticed his boss’ charcoal Crown Vic with the dent in the hood parked along the curb.

He stopped at the spot where he’d climbed up before, shaded his eyes and squinted up at the ornate stack of balconies stretching to the twentieth floor. The light was bad. Good for thieving. Not good for rescuing. But he just could make out the shadowy outline of figures dangling from Laroche’s balcony. His gut plummeted.

“Up there. It’s my ex-wife. She’s in trouble.”

Without following Mark’s gaze, his boss screwed up his face and folded his arms. “And what will you do while we stand here with our mouths open, gawking in the air? Pick our pockets?”

“Don’t you remember what I told you on the phone? That’s the guy I used to work with. The one we’ve been after—my old mentor. He’s kidnapped my ex-wife and my daughter.”

“That’s a good one, Storm. You don’t have a daughter.”

“Yeah, isn’t it crazy? I just found out tonight. I was just up there with him.”

“Pardon me if I find all this a little hard to believe. I think you’re losing your touch, Storm. And I’m starting to think there never was a mentor.”

“Of course, there was. You don’t understand. He’s going to kill them. We’ve got to get to her.”

Foley shook his head in disgust and nodded toward his Crown Vic. “Put your hands on the hood of the vehicle, Storm.”

“What?” He took a step toward his boss.

Kelser stuck his gun in Mark’s ribs. “Do it.”

He had no choice. He turned around and laid his hands on the hood and the goons began patting him down. The humiliating exercise reminded him of when he was arrested over three years ago. The difference was, then he deserved it. Now, he didn’t.

“Look, Foley. You know I’ve gone straight. You’ve got to believe me. The man I used to work for kidnapped my ex-wife’s daughter. I’ve been helping her rescue the little girl.”

“Oh? You haven’t told me about this guy before.”

Mark raised his hands in exasperation. “Honor among thieves? It’s complicated. I stopped working for him. Plus he thought I ratted him out to you guys. He wanted revenge, so he kidnapped my wife’s daughter and threatened to kill her if she didn’t steal the Fantasia.”

“So your ex-wife stole the necklace?”

Did he finally believe him? “Yes. Really. I’m telling you the truth. Every word.” He’d never been so honest since he’d been a kid begging on the street.

Foley patted his right pants pocket. “If that’s so, Storm, then what are you doing with this?”

He drew out the contents and held it up. The jewels sparkled before Mark’s eyes in the streetlights. The gleam of gems had always caught his fancy. Now they spelled his doom. As well as Paige and Holly’s.

“You’ve got to listen to me, Foley.”

“In the car, Storm.”

“She’s hanging from that balcony. She’s got the little girl with her. Are you just going to stand here and let them fall?”

Foley was silent for a long moment. The career damage the wrong move could do must have dawned on him. He grunted and stomped back over to the spot where Mark had stood a moment ago.

He gazed up. “I don’t see anything.”

Mark blinked up at the balcony. Paige and Holly were gone. “They were there a second ago. You’ve got to believe me.”

Foley curled a disgusted lip at him. “Get that lying S.O.B. in the car,” he barked to his men.

Theobald opened the door and shoved Mark into the back seat, while Foley got behind the wheel and Kelser moved to the passenger side. The Vic pulled away from the curb and around the corner.

Mark glared at the gaudy entrance of the Piazza Hotel, his heart breaking. This couldn’t be happening. If he didn’t stop Laroche, he’d never see Paige again. He’d never get to know his little girl.

He reached for the door handle and pulled. The door gaped open. He was about to make a leap for the pavement when Theobald grabbed him from behind.

“No, you don’t, you sneaky bastard.”

In the front seat, Kelser turned around and pointed the barrel of his Beretta at Mark’s forehead. “Try that again, Storm, and you’re dead.”

His gut twisted like it was being squeezed in a vice. He felt every ounce of hope drain from him like dirty rainwater down a sewer. He couldn’t save Paige and Holly. Oh, dear God. There was nothing he could do. Nothing.

Laroche had won.

“No, no, no.” Tears streamed down Paige’s face.

“Mommie,” Holly cried. “What’s happening to us?”

Joel Jimar’s huge hands pulled them up the side of the building as they dangled in midair. In desperation, Paige dared to look down to search the streets.

Her heart stopped when she saw several men on the sidewalk below. It was hard to see from this distance but she could make out the one in dark clothes with a black knit cap. Mark. Was that the FBI with him? She caught sight of a dark car along the street. That looked like the dent in the hood Mark had mentioned.

It was the FBI.

“Help!” she cried in a hoarse voice. She struggled to clear her throat. “Help! Help!”

Holly let out a high-pitched scream. But the men didn’t move.

“Shut up.” Jimar’s hand went around her wrist and he yanked her up and over the banister. She stumbled onto the balcony pavement, but managed to loosen the duffle bag and let it slip off her back. She lifted Holly out of the bag and held her tight.

“I don’t care what you do to me. Just let my little girl go.”

Laroche shook his head. “What a touching scene.”

“Mark will come back for us.”

“I don’t think so.”

She leaned over the banister. “Help!” The men were gone and the dark car was driving away.

“I think he’s abandoned you. He never wanted to be a father, you know.”

She glared at him, hatred pouring out of her. “He’ll come back for us,” she growled, not believing it herself.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t you see the look on his face when he saw the girl? Jimar, can you picture our boy as a family man?”

The large man laughed.

Laroche had her evening bag in his hand. He stroked it with the other hand, like it was a pet cat. That was when she remembered that Mark had the real Fantasia. Her heart felt as if it had plunged to the sidewalk below and smashed into a million pieces.
Had
Mark abandoned them?

Laroche’s accented voice was brittle with anger. “We have to go. You’ve already made too much commotion.”

Jimar pulled his gun from his belt and pointed it at her. “Go on.”

“Mommie.”

“Shh, sweetheart.” Holding Holly tight, she stepped through the double doors. “Where are you taking us?”

Laroche moved to the wet bar, reached for a glass and poured some water into it. “Somewhere no one will ever find you.”

She’d be crazy to go anywhere with him. “No, we’re not.” She stopped in the middle or the room and turned to face him. “I kept my end of the bargain, Laroche. You have the Fantasia. All I want is to leave with my daughter. I’ll never tell anyone what happened.”

A smile spread across Laroche’s lips, then he let back his head and laughed. “You are most entertaining, Paige Dunbar. Surely you must realize that is impossible.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He stepped around the bar with the glass in his hand. “Oh, yes you are.”

Paige held Holly tight. She glanced at the door, at Jimar’s gun. If she tried to make a run for it, would he shoot them? Or would he be afraid that would bring the police? She took a step toward the door.

Laroche moved toward her. “Before we leave, I need you to drink this. You must be thirsty. It’s been an exhausting night for all of us.” He held out the glass to her.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Not at all.” He took another step toward her.

Holly squirmed in her arms. “Don’t drink it, Mommie.”

She took step another toward the door. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t make me force you, my dear. I so abhor violence.”

Jimar rested his gun on his forearm and pointed it at them. “Do as he says or I will blow the little girl’s brains out.”

Holly screamed.

“Shh,” Paige stroked her hair. “No, you won’t. If you did that, the police would be up her in a minute.”

“In this city? Are you sure? Someone might think it’s just a rimshot without the cymbals.”

She cringed at the remark. The man knew everything. But she was close to the door now. She had to risk it.

She reached for the handle. Just as her fingertips touched it, Jimar was on her. He jammed her and Holly into the corner.

“Leave me alone.”

“Mommie,” Holly screamed.

“Go to hell.” Paige snarled at Jimar but it did no good.

The monster reached behind her, grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. As her mouth flew open in a cry, Laroche poured the drink down her throat.

She gasped and choked and tried as hard as she could not to swallow. She couldn’t let them drug her. Couldn’t lose control. But it was too hard with her head in that awkward position.

Laroche poured more liquid into her mouth. The water was warm and tasted like metal. She tried to fight, but the stuff was taking effect already. The room went fuzzy and dark. She spat again, fighting for control. It did no good.

Laroche’s blurry face moved before her in slow motion, like a dream. Jimar said something but she couldn’t make it out. She felt her body go limp, her eyes close.

The last thing she heard was the echo of Holly’s cry.