Kidnapped by the Billionaire(56)

Fear burst like a star in her head, a scream building in her throat. A  scream that had no outlet. Her lungs burned and bright lights seem to  explode in her vision.

Her last thought before the blackness came was that being kidnapped was getting really old.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Elijah moved away from Jericho, using the press of the crowd around the  park bench to surreptitiously fade into the background. The woman who'd  been sitting on the bench with her boyfriend had taken over, and she  must have had some kind of medical training because she was issuing  instructions while her boyfriend called an ambulance.

It was too late, though. Jericho would be dead within minutes.

But as Elijah faded into the crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling that  it had been easy. Way too easy. A simple feint that Jericho had fallen  for and now the guy was dead. It could not be that simple.

Something had been "off" about the whole interaction, and he couldn't  quite put his finger on why. He hadn't missed that Jericho hadn't once  looked in Violet's direction, not until he'd put her in front of the  other man. Only then had Jericho looked. And even then it had been a  simple once-over. Not the response of someone who was desperate to get  his hands on her, that was for certain.         

     



 

Unless he was bluffing, which could be one explanation.

Yet still. That didn't explain the niggling in his gut that told him he was missing something.

You've had that feeling once before, haven't you?

He ignored the thought, walking away from the crowd around the bench,  wanting to put as much distance between him and Jericho as he could. It  wouldn't take long for people to figure out the guy had been shot, and  probably they'd soon start looking for him.

He scanned the area as he walked, trying to see where Violet had gone.  He'd given her a warning look as he'd caught Jericho, hoping she'd  understand that he wanted her well away from the area. And it looked  like she had, because he certainly couldn't see her anywhere.

More crowds had started moving in and he could hear sirens. The  ambulance would be here within minutes and no doubt the cops too, which  meant he couldn't be anywhere in the vicinity. Looked like Violet wasn't  either, because he sure as hell couldn't see her.

Fuck. Where had she gone?

He kept his head down as he continued moving away from where he'd left  Jericho, at the same time expanding his awareness of his surroundings, a  little trick he'd learned while employed with Fitzgerald. But still he  couldn't see her.

You remember this, don't you?

That fucking snide voice again. That cold, familiar feeling.

He tried to dismiss it. Perhaps he should double back, see if she'd gone  in the other direction? Except that would bring him back past where  Jericho was, and that would be a huge mistake.

He kept walking, bringing out his phone and dialing the number of the  burner he'd given her before they'd left the apartment that morning.  There was no response.

The cold feeling began to freeze into small kernels of ice, sharp edges digging into him.

Those flunkies of Jericho's were still out there  …

Elijah stopped and turned, looking back the way he'd come.

A large crowd had gathered around the park bench. Wouldn't be long  before the EMTs arrived. He spotted the dark uniform of a cop already  shouldering through the crowd, which was pretty much his cue to get away  as quickly as he possibly could, and yet  …  no Violet.

Where the fuck was she?

He turned back around, the ice beginning to settle in his blood, clogging his veins.

This is what happened to Marie, remember?

Jesus. Like he could forget. They'd been out to dinner and were on their  way out to get a cab. She'd had to make a detour to visit the bathroom  and he'd told her he'd wait outside for her. He'd waited five minutes,  then ten, then fifteen. Getting more and more annoyed by how long she  was taking. Never once had it crossed his mind that something was  terribly wrong. Not until he'd gone back to look for her and no trace of  her had been found. No one at the restaurant had seen her go into the  bathroom, no one had seen her come out. She'd just  …  vanished.

He'd never seen Marie again.

Fuck, no. This was not happening, not again. Not to Violet.

A burst of adrenaline flooded through him, making him want to take out  his Colt and start shooting. Making him want to grab someone-anyone-and  demand they tell him where Violet was. A stupid and dangerous thing to  want, because obviously that wasn't going to help the situation, but  nevertheless. He would not stand by while a woman he cared about was  taken from him. Not again.

He wasn't Kane Archer, first oblivious to the danger and then powerless  to do anything about it. Weak and ineffectual, who'd believed the lies  Fitzgerald had told him, the bait that had gotten Elijah to work for  him. That once he'd proved his loyalty, his wife would be returned to  him.

He was different now. Stronger. And that was not going to happen, not to  Violet. If anyone-anyone at all-hurt her, they were looking at a death  sentence. And he would be their fucking executioner.

Elijah, when is it going to stop?

Her voice seemed to echo in his head from out of the blue, but he shook  it away. He didn't care about whether it would stop or not. If they'd  hurt her, they would pay. That's all there was to it.

He began to walk on, this time not bothering to keep his head down,  scanning the faces of the people around him, looking for spiky blonde  hair and vivid blue-green eyes. For a lovely, passionate mouth and a  strong, determined jawline. Looking every-fucking-where.

But she'd gone. She'd just fucking gone.

Rage started to rise, so strong and so hot, melting the ice, causing a  red haze to cloud his vision. A real goddamn worry, since uncontrolled  rage wasn't going to help anyone, least of all Violet.

Christ, he needed to get his head back in the game. Put a lid on this  anger. Try and figure out a plan to find her, not walk around aimlessly  trying to see if he could spot her.         

     



 

Except he couldn't seem to get a handle on his emotions, especially that cold, cold feeling. Almost like  …  fear.

You should have kept a better eye on her. You should have talked through  a plan with her in the taxi on the way here. You should have kept her  close.

But he hadn't done any of those things. Fuck, he should have learned his lesson by now.

And then someone said very distinctly from behind him. "Mr. Hunt. We  need a word with you." The voice was accented and female, and he was  going to ignore it. Until she added, "If you don't stop, I'm afraid I'm  going to have to shoot you."

The rage swelled inside him, demanding an outlet, and he turned sharply,  his Colt already in his hand. He only just had the presence of mind to  keep it low and out of sight of the crowds moving around him.

Two women were standing in front of him, one tall and blonde, dressed in  a dark suit. The other small and silver-haired, wearing a black beanie  and a leather jacket. Familiar women.

Eva King and Katya Ivanova. Jesus, he just couldn't get rid of these people, could he?

Not bothering with pointless questions such as what were they doing here  and why were they following him, he said instead, his voice freezing,  "I suggest that you don't fuck with me right now, ladies. Not unless you  want to end up dead."

Katya held her gun low, like he was doing, solidly pointing it at him,  her green eyes utterly emotionless. "We are not interested in your  threats, Mr. Hunt," she said flatly. "We only want to get Violet back."

Yeah, well, he wanted to strangle them both, the rage and frustration  rising higher and higher. "Then you'll have to find her because I don't  have her."

Eva's gray eyes narrowed. "So you gave her to Jericho?"

He didn't bother asking her how she knew about Jericho, she must have  conducted her own searches after he'd gotten away from Zac's little  basement prison. "No. She was supposed-" he stopped abruptly, wondering  why the hell he was bothering to explain himself to these two when he  could be searching for Violet. Because every minute he stood here was  another minute that she could be hurt, she could be lost, she could be  getting killed  …

"Get the fuck out of my way," he growled and started heading toward  them, not giving a shit about the gun pointed in his direction. Because  there was only one thing concerning him. Violet.

Katya moved suddenly in front of him, blocking his path, the muzzle of  the gun pressing into his stomach insistently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hunt, but  you need to tell us what you've done with Violet. According to our  tracking device she's on her way-"

"What tracking device?" he interrupted, totally ignoring the gun  pressing into his gut, his whole body going still as a sudden surge of  an emotion he couldn't put a name to flooded through him.

"The tracking device Zac put on Violet's sweater when she left his  place." Eva's voice was very calm. "We've been tracking her since this  morning."