Page 75 of Suzanna's Surrender
Breathless, she streaked up, only now hearing the boom of thunder that had frightened Jenny and made her look for her mother. Her single thought was to put as much distance between the madman behind her and her child. Her feet clattered on the winding metal staircase that led to Bianca’s tower.
His fingers darted through the open treads and snatched at her ankle. With a sound of terror and fury, she kicked out, dislodging them, then stumbled up the rest of the way. The door was shut. She nearly wept as she threw her weight against the thick wood. It gave, with painful slowness, then allowed her to fall inside. But before she could slam it closed, he was hurtling in.
She braced, certain it would be only seconds before she felt the bullet. He was panting, sweating, his eyes glazed. At the corner of his mouth, a muscle ticked and jerked. “Give it to me.” The gun shook as he advanced on her. A flash of lightning had him looking wildly around the shadowy room. “Give it to me now.”
He’s afraid, she realized. Of this room. “You’ve been in here before.”
He had, only once, and had run out again, terrified. There was something here, something that hated him. It crawled cold as ice along his skin. “Give me the necklace, or I’ll just kill you and take it.”
“This was her room,” Suzanna murmured, keeping her eyes on his. “Bianca’s room. She died when her husband threw her from that window.”
Unable to resist, he looked at the glass, dark with gloom, then away again.
“She still comes here, to wait and to watch the cliffs.” She heard, as she had known she would, the sound of Holt racing up the steps. “She’s here now. Take them.” She held the emeralds out. “But she won’t let you leave with them.”
His face was bone white and sheened with sweat as he reached for the necklace. He gripped it, but rather than the heat Suzanna had felt, he felt only cold. And a terror.
“They’re mine now.” He shivered and stumbled.
“Suzanna,” Holt said quietly from the doorway. “Move away from him.” His weapon was drawn, gripped in both hands. “Move away,” he repeated. “Slow.”
She took one step back then two, but Livingston paid no attention to her. He was wiping his gun hand over his dry lips.
“It’s over,” Holt told him. “Drop the gun, kick it aside.” But Livingston continued to stare at the necklace, breathing raggedly. “Drop it.” Braced, Holt moved closer. “Get out, Suzanna.”
“No, I’m not leaving you.”
He didn’t have time to swear at her. Though he was prepared to kill, he could see that the man was no longer concerned with his weapon, or with escape. Instead, Livingston merely stared down at the emeralds and trembled.
With his eyes trained on Livingston, Holt reached up to grasp the wrist of his gun hand. “It’s over,” he said again.
“It’s mine.” Wild with rage and fear, Livingston lunged. He fired once into the ceiling before Holt disarmed him. Even then he struggled, but the struggle was brief. With the next crash of thunder, he howled, striking out wildly even as the others raced into the room. Disoriented or terrified, stunned by Holt’s blow to his jaw or no longer sane, he whirled.
There was the crash of breaking glass. Then a sound Suzanna would never forget. A man’s horrified scream. Even as Holt leaped forward to try to save him, Livingston pinwheeled through the broken window and tumbled to the rain-swept rock below.
“My God.” Suzanna pressed back against the wall, her hands over her mouth to stop her own screams. There were arms around her, a babble of voices.
Her family poured into the tower room. She bent to her children, pressing kisses on their cheeks. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “It’s all right now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She looked up at Holt. He stood facing her, the black space at his back, the glitter of emeralds at his feet. “Everything’s all right now. I’m going to take you downstairs.”
Holt pushed the gun back in its holster. “We’ll take them down.”
An hour later, when the children were soothed and sleeping, he took her by the arm and pulled her out on the terrace. All the fear and rage he’d felt since Jenny had run crying down the hallway came pouring out.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“I had to keep him away from Jenny.” She thought she was calm, but her hands began to shake. “I suddenly had an idea about the emeralds. It was so simple, really. And I found them. Then he was there—and Jenny. He had a gun, and God, oh, God, I thought he would kill her.”
“All right, all right,” Holt said. Suzanna didn’t choke back the tears this time, but clung to him as they shuddered out of her. “The kids are fine, Suzanna. Nobody’s going to hurt them. Or you.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t trying to be brave or stupid.”
“You were both. I love you.” He framed her face in his hands and kissed her. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She sniffled a little and wiped her eyes. “He chased me up there, and then... he snapped. You saw how he was when you came in.”
“Yeah.” Two feet away from her, with a gun in his hand. Holt’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
“It’s a deal.” She rubbed her cheek against his, for comfort and for love. “It’s really over now, isn’t it?”
