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Glancing up at the clock on the fireplace mantel he saw it was almost eleven o’clock. He was hoping and praying Bianca would show up soon. It wouldn’t be easy to trudge across the beach in the storm, and it seemed to be gaining strength. But on the plus side, it was the perfect night for a getaway. Anyone trying to follow him would have a tough time, and the Porsche Macan was packed and ready to hit the road.
Moving into the kitchen, he made a sandwich and brewed a cup of coffee, then filled two thermos travel mugs. As eleven o’clock came and went, he began to worry. By midnight he was sure something was wrong.
Striding to the window, he flicked on the porch light. The storm was at a fevered pitch. Possibilities raced through his mind. She could have fallen and sprained her ankle, or worse, the goon had caught her trying to escape.
Deeply disturbed by the thought, he hurriedly scribbled a note in case she showed up, then walked quickly into the garage, pulled on his all-weather jacket, and climbed into his Macan. The Porsche SUV was a powerful speed demon and Nick loved it, but turning onto the empty street he didn’t put his foot down. The weather and circumstances called for extreme caution.
The five homes facing the ocean were set apart, rare for a beach community. His was the only house that hadn’t been renovated. Though it looked incongruous next to his wealthy neighbors, he liked the old fifties vibe, and being at the far end of the dead-end street, he was somewhat removed. Driving past the first two houses, he rolled to the side of the road and parked directly behind the home in which Bianca was being held. Lifting the hood of the slicker over his head and tightening the drawstring, he stepped out into the torrent, crouched down, and hurried to the side of the house.
Staying close to the wall as he moved forward, he found a modicum of cover from the wind. Spying light coming from a ground floor window, he slowed his step as he approached, then slowly raised his head to peer inside. To his great relief, the detective was asleep on the couch. Taking a breath and continuing on, Nick discovered a window cracked open. He couldn’t believe his luck, and retrieving his small, powerful flashlight from a zippered pocket, he sent the beam through the glass. He found himself staring into a lavish bathroom, a perfect point of entry. Placing the steel cylinder between his teeth, he cautiously slipped his fingers through the narrow opening and pushed. The window glided silently up.
Nick was a great believer in momentum, and he sensed it was behind him.
Climbing inside and quickly removing his coat, he closed the window behind him and grabbed a towel to wipe his face. Knowing how slippery wet leather could be, he also wiped off the bottom of his shoes. Dropping the flashlight into his pocket and rolling up his jacket, he tucked it under his arm, cautiously opened the door, and stepped into a wide hallway.
Moving quickly forward and passing the snoring detective, Nick found a kitchen, dining room, and a home theater, but no sign of Bianca. Hurrying up the stairs and cautiously opening the first door, he poked his head in—and caught his breath. Bianca was lying on a bed wearing a T-shirt and gray sweatpants, her wrists were handcuffed to a brass headboard, a scarf covered her eyes, and another had been stuffed into her mouth.
“Bianca, it’s me, Nick,” he said softly, hurrying to her side and swiftly removing the blindfold and gag.
“I can’t believe it,” she whimpered, staring up at him. “Am I dreaming?”
“You’re not dreaming,” he replied, retrieving a small wallet from his back pocket and selecting a thin steel tool to unlock the cuffs. “What happened?”
“Matt realized I’d slipped sleeping pills into his coffee and he did this before they took effect. He’d been giving them to me every night, but I only pretended to take them. Did you see him? Where is he?”
“Passed out on the couch downstairs.”
“Nick, thank you,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck as he freed her. “I can’t believe you came. I just can’t believe it.”
“When you didn’t show up I knew something was wrong. But Bianca,” he said solemnly as he pulled back, “I read about your disappearance on the internet. I know who you are—who your father is.”
“Shit, you haven’t tried to reach him, have you?” she asked urgently.
“I thought I’d leave that to you, but—”
“Thank God,” she muttered, cutting him off.
“He must be worried sick. Why don’t you want to get in touch?”
“I’ll explain later,” she replied, sliding off the bed. “What now?”
“My car is packed and ready to go, I just need to stop at my house for a quick second,” he said as she disappeared into what he assumed was a closet. “I left a note in case you showed up. I sure as hell can’t leave that behind.”
“But they’ll know it was you,” she called back.
“Be that as it may, I don’t want to hand them proof on a silver platter. Are you ready?”
“Yes, all set,” she answered, stepping back into the room.
She had changed into jeans, cowboy boots, a forest green cashmere sweater, and her glossy dark hair was falling around her shoulders, Nick tried not to stare. She looked sexy as hell.
“Wait, I have an overnight bag,” she added, ducking back in and reappearing a second later. “We need to get out of here. I don’t know when the other guy will show up.”
“Didn’t you say you and Matt were here alone until tomorrow?”
“I did, but after Matt tied me up he called someone and ordered him to get here right away.”
“Now you’re telling me?” Nick exclaimed, striding up to her. “Move, dammit,” he said tersely, landing a spontaneous smack on her backside and grabbing the small suitcase.
