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“I’ll drive,” he said, holding the door for her as he locked it.
Anne took a good look at him while he was turned to his task, her heart a heavy lead weight in her chest. A part of her now felt detached from all of it. Maybe it was self-preservation.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up and parked at the address Madeleine had specified. Anne got out of the car, her stomach rolling enough to send bile into her throat. She swallowed it down with effort.
It was cold and misty out, though not raining. Yet. The damp chill seemed to seep into her bones and she gave an involuntary shiver. Blane was instantly by her side, his hand grasping her elbow.
“Where did she say she’d be?” he asked, eyeing the park suspiciously. It was a city park that hadn’t been well kept. The playground equipment was broken and rusted. Empty bottles and cigarette butts littered the ground. There was an aroma of urine and weed.
“This is the address she gave,” Anne hedged, glancing around uneasily. The wind whistled through the trees, sending dry branches rattling against each other.
Men suddenly sprang from the shadows, circling Blane. He reacted instinctively, ducking between them to spin around behind the closest attacker. Distantly, he heard Anne shriek. He kicked the back of a man’s knee and heard a crunch. He went down as Blane palmed his Glock and rounded to the second one, then he froze.
A third man had Anne in front of him while he held a gun to her temple. She looked terrified and her backpack had fallen to the ground.
“Drop the weapon,” he ordered.
Blane didn’t see that he had a choice. Reluctantly, he bent and set the gun on the ground, his eyes tracking the movements of those around them, then kicked it forward. If he got the chance to dive, it would be within reach.
The men all looked like your typical hired muscle. Dressed in black and the one he’d kicked was rolling on the ground in pain, sweat pouring down his face as he clenched his jaw against what was probably a broken knee.
No one moved, then the guy holding Anne hostage gestured to the last man standing, who approached Blane. He removed something from his pocket and got behind Blane.
“This may pinch a little,” he sneered.
Blane hated feeling helpless, but with Anne’s head centimeters from the gun’s barrel, he couldn’t take a chance. He had no idea if they wanted her alive or not. This whole thing didn’t make sense and reeked of a setup.
“Your client betrayed us,” he ground out, his gaze meeting hers just as he felt the telltale prick of a needle going into his neck, then it burned as he was injected with something.
As things began to blur and his bones turned to wax, Anne stepped away from her captor without apparent effort. The guy didn’t even do anything, just holstered his gun.
The ground was hard when Blane’s knees hit it and he fought to stay conscious, knowing he was going to lose the battle. He frowned, his brain trying to process that Anne was walking toward him until she stood only a foot away. On his knees, he gazed up at her in confusion.
“The client didn’t betray me, Blane,” she said sadly. “Youbetrayed me.”
The words wormed into his brain like a virus, and it took his sluggish thoughts a moment to catch up.
She crouched down until they were face to face and her face was twisted with grief.
“You had your pet assassin kill my brother. I deserve to know why.”
Then darkness came and Blane knew no more.
Chapter Ten
Blane came awake slowly, his head throbbing and his mouth as dry as paper. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to alert anyone that he was awake. First things first. Assess the situation. He listened. He was sitting upright in a chair and his wrists were secured with a zip tie in front of him. The ambient noise and feel signaled that he was on a plane.
Someone was talking quietly. It was Anne. No one replied so she must be talking on a phone. He listened hard. There were pauses as she listened to whomever was on the other end of the line.
“…hasn’t woken yet….No, I don’t think so….He said he had someone who’d keep tabs on him. It has to be Kade….I’ll question him shortly. We still have a few hours before we get there….Yes, I’ll be in touch. Thank you for all your help. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
This last was said with a tone conveying a wealth of gratitude. Considering his current predicament, he’d have bet his last dollar that she’d been talking to Alan Smithson. Blane hadn’t gotten to ask her about her relationship with him or why he’d been in her apartment building. In hindsight, a rather glaring oversight on his part. He’d have never thought Anne capable of this level of subterfuge. More fool him.
Anger burned in his gut. She’d completely fooled him. He was very glad indeed that he hadn’t slept with her. The betrayal cut deep enough as it was. The last thing she said to him rattled around in his brain. “Pet assassin” and “killed my brother.” She referred to his “pet assassin,” which was ridiculous. As for her brother, he had no idea who she was talking about. And if she’d gotten her information from Smithson, then God only knew what he’d told her.
Ice cold water suddenly splashed his face, robbing him of his breath. His eyes flew open to see Anne standing in front of him, holding an empty glass. She had changed her clothes. Now she was wearing black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid.
Blane took a deep breath, blinking water from his eyes. They were in a private jet, and he saw no one except Anne.
