Page 99 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
Ryan is whistling in the shower when I rise from bed. I dig the phone he gave me out of the pocket of my jeans, discarded on the floor hours ago, and dial Reynard’s number.
It rings. And rings.
And rings.
He’s never not answered my call before.
My fear is an invisible fist that reaches out and grabs my heart. It’s impossible to breathe. My pulse beats fast and fluttery. I wait, holding the phone tight to my ear, fighting a sense of doom so strong it makes my hands tremble.
Finally, the ringing stops as the call clicks through.
“Reynard?” I say into the silence, my voice high with panic.
There’s a strange sound I can’t identify. A wet sound, almost like a rheumy cough, but weaker. Then, as horror blooms over me like a pestilent flower, Reynard’s voice finally comes over the line.
“Dragonfly,” he says, his voice raspy and low, a death rattle. “My darling. Don’t come ba—”
He cuts off abruptly. I’m about to frantically shout his name, but the words die on my lips when I hear what comes over the line next.
“Hello, Mariana. We’ve been waiting for your call.”
Cold with horror, I sink to my knees on the floor. Clutching the phone in both of my shaking hands, I whisper, “Please. Please don’t hurt him.”
Capo’s chuckle is soft and dark. “Oops. Too late.”
My groan is a terrified animal’s. “No. Please. I-I have the diamond, I’ll be there soon—”
“With your boyfriend the mercenary? I think not. I understand he has quite close ties with American government agencies that go by three initials. Now listen carefully. A plane is waiting for you at JFK Airport. Go to the Sheltair private jet terminal and tell the gate agent your name. Your real name, please, none of your covert identity nonsense—”
“Capo, please,” I beg, “Reynard had nothing to do with this—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence!” he thunders, his patience snapping like a twig. “I’ve been recording everything that goes on in that fucking trinket shop for years!”
I think of our plan to tell Capo that I thought Reynard’s shop was bugged, and sob.
It was bugged. When Ryan went in and demanded Reynard tell him where I was, after he left and I emerged from my hiding place inside the sarcophagus…the whole time, Capo was listening.
“If you don’t shake your American, he’s going to start a war with the Devil and drag us all into hell.”
I recall Reynard’s warning to me that day, and sob again.
“Tears won’t help you.” Capo’s voice is softer now, his control regained as quickly as it was lost. “You know what I want. Come to me, or Reynard dies. Try to run, and your boyfriend dies, too. I know where he lives, Mariana. I know everything there is to know about him.”
“You’ll kill them both no matter if I come to you or not,” I say bitterly. “You’ll kill us all.”
Capo’s voice drops an octave and gains an intimate, seductive edge. “I could have killed you a lifetime ago, Mari. But you have something I want. And I’m tired of waiting for it. Come to me now, and you have my word I’ll let them live.”
“The word of a m
urderer,” I hiss, shaking so hard I almost can’t keep a grip on the phone.
He turns nonchalant. “Well, it’s up to you. Don’t come, and they die. Not easily. Not quickly. You will, too, because I don’t tolerate disobedience. Come, and all of you live to see another day. The way I look at it, your only real option is to see if I’ll keep my word. The odds are fifty-fifty. Flip a coin, make a choice. Heads, everyone dies. Tails…”
His voice drops again. “Everyone lives, and you and I get to spend a little quality time alone together before I decide what to do with you. Maybe you can convince me to be lenient.”
I don’t speak. There aren’t any words in any language for this moment.
Except “Fuck you.”
