“Trust me,” Damien said, thinking of the bastard who had his wife. “I won’t.”
As she’d said, Sofia remembered the code, and as she punched it in, Damien texted it to Ryan. They were on foot, hoping that the lack of a car would better conceal their entry. Unfortunately, there was no way to get in other than the gate, as the fence surrounding the property was electrified, and Sofia knew that cutting the power would trigger an alarm.
“But I don’t think he monitors the gate camera,” she’d said. “I’m pretty sure the security monitors are in an owner’s closet. And I’m pretty sure it’s not his place. Some guy he knows who’s mostly in Europe. Unless they own it together.”
“Are you certain?” Ryan had asked, and she’d shaken her head.
Still, it was the only intel they had, so they were acting on it. Now, the two of them stayed off the driveway, walking across the landscaped yard to the house in the distance, barely visible because of the way the lot sloped downward, so that the house was essentially built on the side of the canyon and they were approaching the small part of the roof that was visible.
“There are stairs down to the front door,” Sofia explained. “And then the house takes up five floors. Nikki’s probably on the second floor. That’s the media center, so there aren’t windows.”
“Let’s go.”
They moved slowly. Quietly. The weight of the gun in his hand providing some comfort. There’d been no ransom demand yet. And it occurred to Damien that Breckenridge probably believed that Damien didn’t yet know that Nikki was missing. After all, if Abby hadn’t called, Damien wouldn’t become concerned until the evening.
The thought gave him hope. And he held onto that hope until they reached the media room. That’s when he pushed open the door and walked in to face Richard Breckenridge, a gun aimed right at Nikki’s face.
“Do it, and I’ll blow your wife away,” Breckenridge said, nodding to the gun in Damien’s hand. A gun that was aimed at Breckenridge.
“I mean it,” Breckenridge said. “You fire, and so do I.”
Damien cursed himself for walking into a goddamn trap.
“Now put your hands in the air,” Breckenridge ordered.
Damien did, his eyes fixed on Nikki—bound and gagged to a chair.
“Take that weapon from him, my dear,” Breckenridge ordered Sofia, who took it from Damien, then scurried away.
“Did you really think she’d help you?” Breckenridge asked. “Did you really think it would be easy? Did you honestly believe when we had our little chat in your office that you were better than me? You? Because you’re nothing, Stark. Nothing. Sofia knows it. That’s why she’s helping me. Because I want to hurt you, Stark. I want to hurt you where it counts. And that works out well, don’t you think? Because the same thing that you love is something Sofia hates. Something she wants gone. Something—someone—who’s been a thorn in her side for years and years. I know. She told me.”
Rage boiled inside Damien. “You hurt my wife, and you are a dead man.”
“Not really radiating the power today, Mr. Stark.”
“Do you think I came alone?”
“Oh, your team. About that, I changed the gate code. Right after Sofia punched in the old one. And the fence really is electrified. They may get on the property, but it will be too late. Did you notice the helipad on the roof? Sofia and I will be leaving soon. But not until I kill your wife.”
“I will hunt you down, you deranged fuck.”
“I believe you. But your wife will already be dead no matter what you do to me. And besides, you won’t find me. And if you try—if I get even the slightest wind that you’re chasing me, have hired an assassin to come after me, anything clever like that—then I will make sure that your children die. Painfully. Might be an assassin’s bullet. Might be poisoned food at school. But I’ll get to them.” He smiled. “Like I said. Not so powerful now, are you?”
“Kill me instead,” Damien said. “I’m the one you want to get rid of. I’m the one standing in your way, who insulted you. Who hurt Sofia. Kill me. But please,” he added, looking at Nikki who was shaking her head violently, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t hurt my wife.”
“Because you love her. Isn’t that sweet? You love her, and you don’t love Sofia. Sofia, darling, do you hear this?”
“I do love you,” he told Sofia. “I always will. But not like that. You’re the sister I never had. That’s why I’ve always tried to take care of you, and I’m sorry if I failed. But, Sofia, you have to know. You have to see how it is between us.” He swallowed, desperate to find some magic words that would save them. Save Nikki. But barring that, he had to at least speak the truth. Had to make sure that Sofia knew what she was destroying.
“She’s my heart,” he said aloud, his eyes on the woman who’d made his life complete. “She’s always been in my heart, even before I met her. She’s a part of me, Sofia. Nikki dies, and I die, too. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you anymore. But it’s the truth. Kill Nikki, and you’ve killed me as well.”
“Romantic bullshit,” Breckenridge said. “And I think we’ve had enough of it. Because as much as I’d love to stay and chat, your diligent team is working their little asses off to figure out a way in. And since they just might manage that, I think it’s time for my exit. Sorry, Damien, but it’s time to say goodbye to your wife.”
“No!” Damien sprinted forward, aiming for Breckenridge, who had once again lifted his gun toward Nikki, struggling futility against her bonds. At the same time, Sofia leaped, throwing herself at Nikki and toppling the chair.
“Damien!” Nikki screamed, and as Breckenridge’s shot rang out, Damien stupidly realized that the fall must have knocked the gag loose.
He looked that direction, saw blood, and felt his heart stop.
Then he realized that the blood was Sofia’s. She’d jumped on top of Nikki—a human shield—and they’d gone over together.
“Sofia!” He started that direction, then stopped when he saw her pull out the gun. She held it toward him, and in that instant he feared that he really was a dead man.
But then the Glock was sliding across the floor toward him, and Nikki was shouting for him to run.
Breckenridge had recovered from the surprise of Sofia’s leap onto Nikki, and now he was aiming for a second shot, this time at Damien, who was sprinting for the gun. He dove for it, then rolled onto his back once the cool metal was in his hands. He couldn’t aim—there was no time. He could only hope that the shot would startle Breckenridge enough to knock him off kilter and give Damien time to regroup.
He pulled the trigger, and he fired.
A loud thumping noise filled the room, and for a bizarre moment, he thought it was the sound of the blood spreading around Breckenridge. Then he realized that somehow he’d actually made the shot, right through the bastard’s heart.
The man was dead.
The son of a bitch who’d threatened to kill Nikki was actually dead.
And as for the thumping noise—well that was the sound of Ryan’s second unit. The team that had been following the Range Rover in a chopper.
As the helicopter landed above them, Damien rushed to Nikki, still strapped to the toppled chair, with Sofia sprawled over her, her white shirt now pink with blood.
“Damien. Oh, God, Damien.” Tears streamed down Nikki’s face. “She’s gone. I’m sorry, but I think she’s gone.”
He looked down, his heart breaking as he registered Sofia’s lifeless form. He looked at Nikki, at Sofia’s blood staining her, too.
“She saved me,” Nikki said. “That bullet was meant for me.”
“I know,” he said, the words making him cold. Making him numb.
Behind him, he heard the team crash into the house, Ryan’s orders echoing through the rooms.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered to his wife, then gently moved Sofia off her. His hands shook as he untied the ropes that bound her to the chai
r. And when she was free, she wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her close. “I knew you’d come,” she said. “I knew you’d find me.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his words choked with both lingering fear and potent relief. “Baby, I was so terrified that I’d lost you.”
“You can’t,” she said. “We can’t lose each other.”
He held her tight as she sobbed against him, as his own eyes filled with tears.
He held her as relief finally swept over him, bittersweet from the taint of sorrow.
He held her, simply held her. And he knew that he would never, ever let her go.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The glass case against the back wall held some of his most precious memories. The scrapbook that Nikki had given him, documenting their days and nights together. His signed Ray Bradbury books from the time he’d met the man. The small red folio that held Lara’s adoption papers, the words written in Chinese. The bracelet from Anne’s wrist identifying her as his child for the hospital.
So many treasures, including his very first award for tennis, earned before the game had become a chore. Before Richter.
Before he’d met Sofia.
And, yes, the case held a photo of her. A small, framed picture of Damien and Sofia and Alaine, laughing together by a lake in Germany. “I remember this day,” he said softly, knowing that Nikki had come up behind him.
She pressed a soft hand to his shoulder.
“We’d been happy that day. All three of us.”
“Damien.”
He turned, then pulled her to him. It had been four days, and miraculously, she was doing fine. “It was horrible,” she’d told him the night they’d come home, as they’d held each other in bed, the girls sleeping on either side of them. “And I was so scared. But I knew you’d find me.”
“What if I hadn’t?”
She’d given him a small, sad smile. “Even if I’d died in there, I would have gone to my death trusting you. Because I know that you would have moved heaven and earth to find me. But you’re not a miracle worker. I can only trust the man. And I do, Damien. I trust you completely. I know you’d never give up on me. On the girls.”