Muffled thumps and crashes came from downstairs, but I didn’t pay attention, too caught up in my own misery. How did this happen to me? I wondered, the events of the day racing through my mind.
What madness have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 2
A high pitch shrieking jolted me from a fitful slumber.
Jolted awake, I scrabbled at my sheets, groping for the edge of the bed. The ground was further away than I thought, and I stumbled but managed to stay upright as I ran to the door. Ripping it open, I immediately smelled smoke, and raced toward the stairs, not knowing what to expect.
Lucas peered up at me from the kitchen. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but he gave me a bright smile. “Good morning, sunshine. I’m making breakfast. Care for some?” He had a fork in one hand and an unplugged toaster under his other arm, likely the reason for the fire alarm. Setting the chrome appliance back onto the counter, he moved toward the refrigerator. “How about eggs?”
I watched him, still momentarily stunned by my impromptu alarm clock. He bustled around the large kitchen, whistling a bright tune as he pulled the eggs out of the fridge. Shaking my head, my gaze travelled to the living room and my eyes widened in shock. “What happened?” I exclaimed, moving down the stairs slowly.
“Oh, this? I redecorated.”
The room looked as though a tornado had come through sometime during the night. One chair was lying on its side, several paintings had been dislodged from the wall, and the wood coffee table had been flipped onto its top. Nothing looked broken as far as I could tell. It was a mess, but fixable. Eying it dubiously, I kept my mouth shut and avoided the room as I tugged on one of the kitchen stools.
Sitting at the bar and keeping the granite surface between me and my far too chipper captor, I pulled the toaster toward me and peered inside. Frowning, I grabbed the fork and fished out two of the blackest lumps of toast I’d ever seen. “You don’t cook much, do you?” I said drolly, pushing the lumps toward him.
“Don’t be silly.” Lucas set the frying pan atop the stove, turning the gas burner on high, then began cracking eggs. “I’ve seen all the shows. It isn’t that hard.”
I watched silently, my eyebrows going up as I realized he had no butter or oil to grease the stainless pan. “Uh huh,” I said, resigning myself to more fire alarms.
As the last vestiges of sleep left my system, I sobered up. “So what happens now?” I asked, leaning one elbow on the granite.
“What do you mean?”
“Can I go home?”
I couldn’t quite read his expression from my vantage point. He seemed fixated on the eggs, although he wasn’t really stirring them. “It’s not that easy,” he said after a moment.
“Let me go,” I pleaded, giving my pride a break. “I translated for you in that dirty little room, which probably makes me a criminal in some way.” The thought made my chin wobble. “Lucas please, let me go. I don’t want to become like Anya.”
There, I’d said it. Lying in bed last night, it occurred to me that the other woman’s death, and possibly her life, was a sore spot for the gunrunner. His reaction now confirmed my suspicion: the knuckles around the spatula in his hand whitened and he sighed. “All right,” he finally murmured, but held up a finger before I could start cheering. “But on one condition: you have to attend this last meeting with me.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“It’s cargo transfer, paperwork mostly. They requested everything be expedited, so everything is happening today. I want you there to make sure anything in French is correct, then once that’s done you’re free to go.”
I sagged in relief. “Thank you,” I said, smiling in gratitude. Behind Lucas, the first tendrils of smoke wafted from the pan. I motioned toward the oven. “You’re burning the eggs.”
Lucas let out a curse and pulled the pan off the fire. He quickly switched on the exhaust fan as smoke billowed out from the fry pan, but it was too late. Five seconds later, the fire alarm went off again, and Lucas cursed again.
The whole scene was comical, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling, to no avail. My mood much lighter since I was set to be freed soon, I pushed back the stool and rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Put that in the sink,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the sulfur smell of burned eggs. “Don’t run water on it,” I added quickly, stopping him just in time from ensuring the smell would never leave.
A quick check of the pantry and refrigerator gave me the tools I needed. Two minutes later I was whisking together some batter.
“What are you making?” he asked, peering over my shoulder.
“Pancakes. And you are hereby banished from the kitchen.” I pointed the whisk at him, careful to keep it over the bowl. “Shoo!”
“Ooh, I like a bossy woman,” he murmured, then fled as I pretended to go after him with the wooden spoon still covered in burned egg.
Four hours later, I wasn’t smiling any more when the limo stopped along the water’s edge. Lucas exited the vehicle first and I followed behind, staying as close to him as I could. If it had been Jeremiah there, I would have held his arm for support, but this wasn’t the sort of situation the businessman would have willingly put me into. My only comfort was that, after this part, I was done.
I had no clue where we were. We’d left New York City far behind us; my apprehension rose the further we moved from the big city. Any hope of Jeremiah swooping in to rescue me died a slow death during that journey. I tried to comfort myself that I’d see him soon, provided Lucas kept his end of our deal. I wished it didn’t come at the cost of having to do this again.
Niall and his men were standing ahead, with a large ship sitting in the water down a short pier behind them. I was no nautical expert, but while this wasn’t as big as some of the cargo vessels I’d seen passing along the Hudson River, it was still large enough to carry just about anything. The ship was old. Lines of rust ran down from between the plates and rivets holding the hull together. It looked like at one time it may have been a fishing boat, with the bulk of its storage in the belly. If it was here, I doubted that was its use any longer.
“What’s this piece of garbage?” Niall didn’t look happy with the ship, jerking his thumb derisively toward the hunk of metal.
“You wanted a transport, here it is.” Lucas didn’t seem fazed by the other man’s irritation. He turned to another older man standing apart from the Australian’s group. “Has everything been loaded aboard?”