“No, we won’t,” Zander said flatly. “You have my word.”
“I never accept a stranger’s word,” Tom said kindly. “In fact, I never accept the word of a friend. Or even a brother, for that matter.”
Panic twisted every second into an endurance test. “In that case, tie us up inside Frank’s apartment.”
“Not a bad idea. Just to show you how reasonable I am, I’ll compromise. I’ve got one seat available in the car, so I’ll leave one of you here inside the apartment. I’ll take the other as collateral, to ensure the silence of the one we leave behind.”
“I’ll go,” Zander said, grabbing on to the thread of hope Tom had offered. They’d restrain Britt at The Residences, and they’d take him. That, he could live with. He couldn’t live with the prospect of them loading her into their SUV.
“Zander,” Britt hissed.
“What?” Tom asked Britt in the same understated, entertained tone he’d been using since the conversation began. “You don’t like that plan?”
“I don’t want you to take him,” she said. “He’s told you that we won’t interfere with your plans, and we won’t. Tie us both up in Frank’s apartment.”
Tom regarded them with approval. “Look at the two of you. Both trying to protect the other. Charming.” He caught Nick’s eye. “Put Britt in the car and leave Zander in the apartment.”
The thread of hope Zander held snapped.
Nick and the one with the recessed eyes immediately came forward.
“It’s not personal, Zander,” Tom was saying in his Scottish brogue. “It’s just business.”
The one with recessed eyes attempted to thrust Zander to the side. Zander stayed on his feet and shoved the painting into his arms. Nick came at him. Zander swung, his punch connecting with Nick’s jaw.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zander saw Britt racing toward the nearest entrance to The Residences.
The dark-haired one bolted after her.
Pain exploded against the side of Zander’s face. In the split second when his attention had been diverted, Nick had landed a blow. Zander came up swinging. He and Nick exchanged punches—a haze of fists and force and hurt—until the other one rushed Zander from the side, tackling him to the ground.
Zander tried to twist—
Both men thrust him onto his stomach. A knee pressed into the small of Zander’s back. Zander rotated his head toward Britt, praying she’d made it inside the building.
Instead, the dark-haired man had pinned her arms in front of her and was hauling her back toward them. She was kicking, struggling. “Zander!”
“Britt,” he rasped. He heaved against the weight immobilizing him.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “Zander! I’m sorry.”
A prick stung the side of his neck, and his vision began to gray.
Britt writhed, doing her best to land blows against her attacker’s legs as the man continued to cart her to the SUV.
No.
His worst nightmare was playing out before him. Britt, in danger because of a situation with his uncle that he’d involved her in.
Britt!
Unconsciousness submerged him.
Text message from Carolyn to Zander:
Carolyn
Britt came by the store earlier, and I told her how you’d taken Frank’s keys and cell phone to your friend. She seemed surprised, so I simply wanted to let you know that I’d talked with her. I love you.
