Mafia Secret (22 page)

Marc ground his teeth. The simple thought of a gun or knife being used on Lessa made him want to punch something.

"Her mother, that Erin woman, called a short time ago to accuse me of grabbing Lessa. I assured her we had nothing to do with it, and that I'd sent someone to find her."

"And?"

"She said she'd make sure I rotted in hell if anything happened to her daughter." Jio laughed softly. "Sounded like something my mom would say. Anyway, she's who tipped me off to the stalker."

"I'll get her."

"Any movement from the kidnappers?"

"Not yet."

"Call me when you have her."

"Right." Marc closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

The miles ticked down on the GPS. They were leaving the neighborhoods behind and driving into the warehouse district. It didn't take more than a couple more minutes to reach the cluster of waterfront warehouses that featured an old dock stretching out into the ocean. Everything had an abandoned feel to it. Perfect for someone up to no good.

Chuck sat silently beside him as Marc slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. He should have asked Andrew what warehouse it was. The light was fading, and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried. It'd be easier to stay hidden at night, but more difficult to evaluate what they were up against.

Movement next to one warehouse sent him on high alert, and he reached for his gun. Chuck did likewise. Marc relaxed when he made out the hand gesture from the man in the shadows.

John Norma. Making sure the kidnappers didn't move Lessa. Marc signaled him back, then pulled down an alley and parked just out of sight. A quick look around verified that no one was watching.

Chuck twisted a silencer onto his main weapon. Marc followed suit as John slipped up to them.

"They're in there."

"Anything we should know?" Marc tried not to focus on the fact that it was John who'd let them take her. He stamped down on the urge to slug him. He needed John's assistance. They moved swiftly toward the warehouse, careful to stay out of the line of sight of the main door.

"Basic alarm system at the doors and first floor windows," John explained. "No dogs. I've only spotted the two men. No sign of Lessa, but there's an office with no windows that one of them has gone into a couple of times."

Lessa would have to be in the office. "The van?"

"Parked inside."

John didn't mention a woman in his tally, so Marc assumed this was a professional job and not the work of a crazy stalker. He looked at the wires going into the building and started moving quietly alongside them. John and Chuck followed. He finally found a door that satisfied him. An older one with easily-visible, basic alarm connections with contacts at the top of the door. Opening the door caused the contact to break and the alarm to go off.

"I need a plate." Marc said softly.

Chuck opened the small bag he was carrying and handed over a tiny metal square.

"Boost."

John mumbled under his breath, but crouched down and hoisted Marc up so he could look directly at the two contacts. The clock ticked in his head. Keeping his hands steady, he slid the paper-thin plate between the two contacts. He dropped his hand and Chuck stuck a tiny piece of electrical tape to his finger. He frowned as he carefully taped the plate into place.

Dropping to the ground, he didn't even need to reach out before Chuck had the lock picking kit in his hand. Simple dead bolt and door lock took him less than a minute to pop.

Now came the moment of truth. Chuck zipped the bag back up and slid it over his shoulders. Marc put his gun back in the ready position and nodded to John.

John grimaced when the door squeaked as he eased it open. They paused as the sound of gunfire ripped out. John jumped, but shook his head. The sound wasn't right. Not nearly loud enough. He went through the door first.

Marc peered through and could just make out the van at the far end of the warehouse. Despite the boxes stacked here and there, the building had an empty feeling.

The lights were off except those near the van. Marc eased through the door and Chuck followed him. The sound of gunfire was coming from a television. Some army movie the two shapes across the warehouse were watching. Marc wasn't close enough to see if the men had any weapons on them. Chuck carefully closed the outer door.

Keeping to the shadows they crept around the warehouse and approached the two men from the back. Taking cover by the van, Marc assessed the situation. There was a large open space between the van and where the men sat. No cover.

A handgun lay on the arm of the couch next to the guy on the right. The other guy seemed to be drowsing. John tapped the van with his finger. Marc nodded and eased back. John slowly and quietly opened the van's back door. It was unlocked.

Empty. John eased the door shut again and Marc signaled they would have to approach from straight behind. John and Chuck nodded.

Raising his gun, Marc moved out from cover and straight toward the couch. The TV watcher was a lot more alert than he'd given him credit for. He suddenly sprang up, grabbed his gun and spun.

Marc fired before the guy could pull the trigger. The bullet hit him square in the chest and he flew backward, landing like a downed drunk. The sleeping one jerked awake and tried to run. Marc shot the sofa cushion beside him, and he froze.

"Stay put!" Marc walked up behind him.

John leaned over the fallen gunman and felt for a pulse. He shook his head.

"Where is she?" Marc demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," couch man said.

Pressing the gun barrel to the man's temple, Marc repeated, "Where is she?"

"The office," he squeaked out. "She's fine."

"We'll see about that." Grabbing the kidnapper, Marc dragged him to the office doorway. He looked into the office and immediately focused on the bed. He knew before Lessa turned her head it was her. At the small movement, the iciness in his gut began to thaw. He almost said her name, but turned his attention back to the tall guy when he shifted. He had to stay focused. She was alive, and he meant to keep her that way. "Who ordered this?"

"We didn't know the guy." Sweat poured down couch man's face. "He called Ralph and set it up. I never met him."

Marc shoved him to his knees and placed the gun against the back of his head. "Who was he?"

"He didn't tell us his name. He paid us to grab her and hold her until he said."

"Why?"

"He didn't say, man. Just wanted her out of the way for a while."

"Did you touch her?" The significance of their chaining her to a bed was not lost on him.

"No way, man."

"I don't believe you." Marc leaned down. "You're lying."

"I swear. We didn't do anything."

Marc knocked him on the head with the side of the gun.

He moaned, instinctively covering the bleeding wound with his hand. "Okay, okay, maybe I copped a feel, but that's it."

L
essa had a hard time believing what she was seeing. She closed her eyes and reopened them. It was Marc. Muscleman cowered on the floor, and her protector stood over him, a gun in his hand.

Marc looked up at her, expression emotionless. Without his saying anything, she understood exactly what he wanted her to do. She turned her head and closed her eyes.

Even with the silencer, the sound of the gunshot echoed in the small room. Then every nerve ending in her body recoiled as the bed shifted. She knew it was Marc, but couldn't help the instinctive flinch.

The key snicked in the lock of the cuffs and Marc gently removed them from her wrists. Her arms throbbed, but she refused to open her eyes. She didn't want to see what was left. Marc scooped her up into his arms, and she could hear his footfalls as he crossed the room and carried her out.

Lessa didn't open her eyes until she felt the ocean breeze on her face. Then she cautiously peered out from under her lashes.

"She okay?" a deep voice asked next to Marc.

Lessa turned her head into Marc's chest as her heart jumped in panic. She reminded herself that he wouldn't have come alone. The guy talking had to be one of Marc's men.

"Start the car," Marc said tersely.

The car door opened. Marc jiggled her up and somehow she was inside the backseat of a sedan. He slid in next to her. The light dimmed as the door slammed shut and the engine roared to life.

The driver's dark hair, and another man in the passenger seat were visible in the dim light. Marc sat quietly next to her, his breathing slow and steady, though audible. The fingers of her hand still clung to his leather jacket, and she gripped tighter as emotions cascaded over her. She was safe. He'd come for her. She didn't want to think about what he'd done to save her. She would have to one day, but not now.

Angling herself on the seat, she loosened her grip on his jacket and looked up. He held her gaze, but wore the familiar mask.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A shudder went through Marc's body, alarming her, and before she could take a breath she was in his arms pressed against his chest. His heart pounded as hard as her own. She tucked her head under his chin to comfort him as much as herself. Another shudder racked him, and she gripped his shirt.

"Did they hurt you?" he whispered in a rough voice.

She didn't want to think about it, not now that she was safe. But there was no avoiding it since it was the only thing running through her head. "No, not really."

"What did they do?"

"It doesn't matter." She closed her eyes and focused on his warmth. "You got me out."

"Did they rape you?" Marc growled.

"N-no." Lessa shook her head and pressed tighter against him.

"He touched you."

"Once." She pushed the remembered fear aside. She'd been terrified of what he'd do once he had permission from his boss. But that hadn't happened. "The other one said I wasn't to be hurt."

His grip loosened, but she didn't want to be released. He shifted, setting her beside him. The loss of his body heat sent a chill through her. She looked up at his face and saw again his remote mask. She didn't know why she was trying to see what he was thinking. His expression never showed anything. Even his eyes remained blank.

He glanced out the window, and she wondered if he was regretting coming and what he'd had to do to save her. Uncertainty wound its way through. While she'd been held captive, the only thing that had kept her from falling into bone-chilling panic was the certainty that he'd come for her. He'd find her. And he'd rescued her much faster than she'd thought possible.

"I'm sorry," Lessa said, thinking about the lives he'd taken to save her.

Marc jerked his gaze back to her. "You shouldn't have been left unguarded."

"No." She wrapped her arms around herself to give the hug she craved. "I'm sorry you had to come for me and do what you did."

His eyes narrowed, and a flash of heat went through them. "I'm not." He hesitated. "I'll always protect you. It won't happen again."

Sadness weighted down her heart. His loyalty to her new family was unquestionable. "You shouldn't have to worry about me, too."

"Yes, I do." He closed his eyes. "It's my fault."

"How could it be your fault?"

"I scared you." He looked out the window again. "Because of me you ran. I should have…"

She couldn't deny having his anger focused on her been frightening, but that wasn't what had made her leave. She'd run home in order to pretend she wasn't related to the Mob. That she wasn't knee-deep in a situation she had no idea how to deal with. "You should have what?"

"I should've stayed away from you from the start."

"Then who would watch over me?" Lessa tried to feel her way through the tension in his voice and what he wasn't saying.

"I'm sorry. For what I said and did. I shouldn't have lost my temper. When I found you in the hall. I-I didn't want you to see or know what went on. You're supposed to be protected." He looked at her. "Shit, I'd just left your bed. I didn't want you to see me that way, but that's not an excuse. My first priority is to protect you, and I didn't do a good job that night or after."

He probably wouldn't listen to her arguments that coming to her rescue proved him wrong. She was safe because of him. Because of who he was. Lessa uncrossed her arms to wrap them around him. He tensed first, but relaxed and tucked her in to him again.

"I'll never hurt you, Lessa. It would be like cutting my own heart out. I…"

She waited for him to continue, but he didn't. As she snuggled in tighter, the last of his resistance finally melted away, and he smoothed her hair down her back.

"I knew you'd come," she whispered.

He paused for a second before continuing to comb her hair with his fingers. She closed her eyes, his touch lulling her more than his almost declaration of love. She was safe with him. "I've never been so frightened, but I kept telling myself you'd come for me, before . . ."