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Thankfully, Jasmine hadn’t added Ace’s number to her list of contacts. For that matter, they hadn’t been apart since he’d come to her rescue in Jordan.
Thwarted yet again, Demopoulos slapped Jasmine across the face several times, demanding to know how to contact the man. When she wouldn’t answer any questions about Ace, he demanded information about Fearghas and Dmytro.
She lied. “I don’t know their phone numbers. I don’t even know them. The man called Fearghas called in his friend to fly us. I didn’t even catch his name. You say it’s Dmytro?” She shook her head. “Is that Russian? Why would I know a Russian?”
“You lie!” Demopoulos slapped her again.
“I only wanted to get my son back. I stole the copper scroll to trade for my son. I knew the man helping me from four years ago. He just happened to be at the museum when your thugs attacked me. Did you know I’d be there to steal the scroll?”
Demopoulos gave her a purely evil smile. “My old friend Louis wants what I want—the treasure. I have my spies watching his every move. I was arranging my own heist. Louis just happened to move on the scroll before I could, which made it easier for me by acquiring it from his thief.”
The older Demopoulos paced the floor of the living area, frowning heavily. “It was easy until you and your boyfriend tricked my son into bringing you into my home. Did you have to drug him?”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I only want my son back,” Jasmine insisted. “Bertolli is holding him hostage until I bring him the scroll.”
“Yes. Yes. Your son.” He turned to face her. “Your boyfriend probably absconded with the scroll. If he knows of the treasure, he’ll keep it. If not, he could sell it on the black market for a lot of money. Now you have no scroll and no son.”
“My guy doesn’t care about the scroll,” Jasmine said. “He’s helping me free my son. He’s probably taking it to Bertolli as we speak.”
Demopoulos’s frown sank even lower. “If he trades the scroll for your son, he will have nothing with which to negotiate your freedom.”
Jasmine lifted her chin and stared at the Greek. “All the more reason to get to Bertolli before my man makes that trade.”
Demopoulos stared down at Jasmine, where she sat tied to the chair. A few seconds passed before the crime boss spun on his heels. “Take this woman to the SUV,” he said to the man with the bloody nose.
As the man approached her, he flipped out a switchblade knife and pressed it to her throat.
“No, you can’t kill her,” Demopoulos said. “Not until we have that scroll.”
The man with the knife snarled at Jasmine, walked around the chair and sliced through the ropes securing her wrists, nicking her with the sharp blade.
Jasmine bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out. She pushed to her feet and brought her hands in front of her.
He’d nicked the inside of her left wrist. Blood dripped from the cut.
She covered the wound with her other hand to stem the flow.
The bloody nose man grabbed her elbow and marched her toward the front door.
As she passed Demopoulos, he was on the phone, speaking low and fast.
Jasmine could swear she heard him say something about bringing an RPG. She suspected he was talking to a local who could sell him contraband weapons. Or he could have contacted one of his guys guarding his plane to bring whatever weapons he had on board.
But an RPG? She hoped the man wasn’t going to fire it at the house where her son was being held hostage.
The grip on her arm tightened as she was shoved out the door.
She glanced around. The only person she had to worry about was the man with the bloody nose. She didn’t see his other men.
Then again, they could be hiding in the shadows, ready to take her down should she try to escape.
Knowing it could be suicide, she spun to face the big man holding her elbow and kneed him in the crotch.
The man hunched over, groaning.
His fingers slipped just enough for Jasmine to jerk her arm free of his grip.
She tore out, racing past the SUV and out into the street.
