Page 40 of Dusty
The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it, but he played along. “Were we? I seem to recall you walking out rather suddenly.”
“That was before I understood who you really are,” she said, reaching across to lightly touch his hand. Every fiber of her being revolted at the contact, but she thought of Dusty—of his warm eyes, his promise to find her—and found the strength to continue. “A powerful man. A dangerous man.”
Cooper turned his hand to capture hers, his grip suddenly painful. “And yet you still haven’t told me where the files are.”
Sharon maintained her smile even as panic fluttered in her chest. “Maybe I want to make sure I have…insurance.”
“Insurance.” Cooper’s voice hardened as he released her hand with a small push. “Let’s call it what it is, Sharon. Blackmail.”
“I prefer ‘a negotiation advantage.’” She took another sip of wine, her throat dry. Through the window behind Cooper, she could see darkness had fallen over Chicago. How much longer could she keep this going? Where was Dusty? “I’ve come to realize I’m not made for running and hiding. It’s tedious and dirty and boring. I much prefer this…” She gestured around, indicating the opulently decorated dining room. “Maybe I just want to come…home.”
Cooper stood abruptly, causing her to flinch. “And now we’ve come to the portion of the evening where you try to convince me you want me back.” He shook his head, tutting. “Unfortunately, your lies will do little to sway me. Dinner is concluded. I thought we could do this pleasantly, but clearly you need more convincing.” He rounded the table and pulled her chair back with a sharp tug. “Get up.”
Sharon stood slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her. “Cooper, please—”
“Save it.” His fingers dug into her upper arm as he steered her toward the door. “Troy has been very patient, but even he has his limits.”
The mention of Lennox sent a wave of fear through her. She remembered the cold brutality in his eyes as he’d dragged her away from the barn in Texas, away from Dusty’s unconscious form. The sound of Dusty’s head hitting the barn floor still echoed in her nightmares. Troy was Cooper’s number oneenforcer for a reason. He enjoyed his work—sometimes a little too much.
“Cooper, wait.”
“No, no more stalling. No more of your petty charade, my dear, it’s beneath you.”
Cooper propelled her down the hallway toward his library, the grip on her arm unyielding. Sharon searched desperately for something, anything to say that might buy her more time.
“The files aren’t in Chicago,” she blurted out. “They’re in Texas.”
Cooper paused for only a moment before continuing to march her forward. “Then you’ll tell Troy exactly where in Texas, won’t you?”
“I need assurances,” she insisted, digging in her heels as they approached the library doors. “Promises that you won’t hurt me, that you’ll let me go. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again. I’ll leave the country, go someplace where they don’t have extradition. Please, Cooper.”
Cooper spun her around, his face inches from hers. “You’re not in a position to demand anything.” His breath was hot against her face, smelling of wine, his anger a palpable thing. “You’re alone, Sharon. No one is going to ride to the rescue. No one even knows you’re here.”
But someone did know. The man she loved knew Cooper’s men had taken her. And he was coming, she knew it with a soul-deep certainty. Too bad, Dusty would be walking into a trap. As long as Cooper had her, Dusty’s hands were tied. She knew he wouldn’t do anything that might cause Cooper to turn his anger toward her.
Cooper pushed open the library doors. Inside, Troy stood by the fireplace, his hulking frame silhouetted against the flames. The huge Christmas tree in the corner made a mockery of thescene, the twinkling lights that should have been a sign of happiness and a celebration of joy, instead seemed to taunt her.
Sharon’s gaze immediately went to the gun tucked into Troy’s waistband, barely concealed by his jacket. Was there any way she could get it?
“Boss,” Troy acknowledged with a nod. “She finally ready to talk?”
“She will be,” Cooper said, shoving her farther into the room.
Sharon stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of a leather chair. Her mind raced through options, each more desperate than the last. The canvas bag with the files was still hidden under that crate in the barn, hundreds of miles away in Texas. Unless Dusty had gotten them to Antonio. Though she’d never been much of a poker player, maybe it was time to bluff.
“You know what, Cooper?” she said, straightening her spine and finding a well of courage she hadn’t known existed. “Do your worst. Because unlike you, I’m not afraid of the truth.”
Troy stepped forward, reaching for his gun. “Want me to start with her fingers, boss? Or should we try something else first?”
Cooper considered her for a long moment, then smiled, a smile that had once charmed her, but now only revealed the monster beneath. “No need to rush, Troy. We have all night.”
Sharon felt her pulse quicken but kept her face impassive. All she needed was to buy time. Just a little more time.
Because somewhere out there, Dusty was coming for her. And God help Cooper when he did.
The Chicago neighborhoodwhere Madison lived was decorated for the holidays, an explosion of colors, the reds, greens, blues, and gold lights twinkling on every tree, bush, and house. Itwas evident that the decorating had been done by professionals, because everything was too detailed, too symmetrical, too perfect. Dusty checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. He’d been antsy from the moment they’d climbed into the SUV that met his team at the airport when the jet landed. The entire trip had been spent mapping out plans to infiltrate the estate, but now they were here, in this wealthy conclave in the most expensive and exclusive section of Chicago, and the only thing he could think about was Sharon. The thought of her scared, at the mercy of a monster like Madison, made him want to hit somebody.
The black SUV had parked on a tree-lined street just out of view of Madison’s estate, a sprawling property that seemed more fortress than home with its tall wrought-iron fences and patrolling security. The man had to have a touch of paranoia to think he needed armed guards inside and outside of his palatial home.
