Her heart leapt, and all the sound roared in, taking her away from the haze of shock. “Raider.” She leaned forward and only inched back when Eddie’s gaze narrowed. “I’m okay. Not hurt.”
“Good. Because if you’re hurt, I’ll burn the entire Coonan organization to the ground,” he growled. Then his voice smoothed out. “However, if you’re all right, then maybe Eddie and I can talk some business. I believe there’s a journal you’d really like to get your hands on, Coonan.”
Eddie’s legs uncrossed, and his eyes gleamed with something not quite right. “You have the journal?”
“Not yet, but I will soon. You don’t get it until Brigid is returned safely. One bruise, and I’ll destroy you.” The threat sounded real and freaking weird when made so calmly.
Eddie flicked open a knife that he’d drawn out of nowhere. “Here’s the deal. You have one hour to bring the journal to my home.” He gave the address. “At the sixty-minute mark, at every sixty-minute mark, I’m cutting off a piece of your fiancée.” His smile was chilling. “Don’t worry. I’ll start with the pinkie fingers; it will take time to get to anything interesting.”
“I’m outside of DC and need to fetch the journal,” Raider countered.
Eddie eyed her, and she tried not to shake. “Fine. You have two hours. But I want to use my knife at least once.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Raider clicked off.
Brigid tried to hide her surprise. He’d just hung up? That was it?
“Cool son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Eddie slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“You should see him with a knife in his hand,” Brigid said softly. Raider would need to get on a plane right now to make it to Boston within two hours, and it would still be close. “Not an ounce of emotion, and yet . . .” She forced a shiver.
Eddie’s upper lip curled. “Nice try, sweetheart. Your boy might be dangerous, but no way does he let a sweet thing like you get near the action. Don’t try to play me.” He stood and grasped a blanket off the back of his seat to toss at her. “Your lips are turning blue. Warm up, and I’ll have dinner brought in soon.” He pointed to a remote control. “Feel free to watch television while you wait.”
She tucked the blanket around herself as if settling in and reached for the remote control. A large flat-screen television had been mounted on the wall between two sets of double doors that led outside to the wide lawn.
Eddie strode for the door to the rest of the house. “I have guards outside, and you won’t make it two feet. Be a good girl and stay inside.” He paused. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will. You should know that.” He opened the door. “I don’t enjoy the killing, but there’s something about releasing a soul that has always done it for me. I feel I capture a part of it somehow.” The door shut quietly behind him.
She shuddered. What kind of insanity lived in the well-dressed mobster? There was time to figure out that later. For now, she flipped on the television to a rerun ofParks and Recand then set the remote to the side. There was no reason to try to go outside. Quietly sliding the blanket out of her way, she padded across the office to his desk and computer. Everything she needed was right there. Biting her lip, she got to work.
Chapter Fifteen
Raider was about to break the old man’s face as they sat in the main room of the HDD unit’s headquarters. He had to leave in less than ten minutes to get to Boston within the time frame, and he’d have to risk his life in the shitty helicopter waiting in the parking lot. Angus had bought it during the last mission, and the thing was a death trap, but it was all he had right now. The private plane they’d used earlier had headed back to upstate New York.
Roscoe lay on top of the desk, his nose on his paws. Wolfe kept leaning over to check out Raider’s bruised temple, poking it every once in a while. “Stop it,” Raider snapped.
Wolfe probed again. “Man, you got hit hard.” He smiled at Sean. “You must have fists like anvils.”
Sean eyed the ex-soldier. “I boxed in my youth.”
Malcolm and Angus had gone to the main HDD headquarters to use resources there, and Raider had spent precious moments trying to talk Sean into giving up whatever the journal might be. Wolfe had provided backup, sort of, by pretty much admiring the bruise swelling over Raider’s face. “Listen, Sean.”
“No.” Sean crossed his arms, seemingly content even though his daughter was in danger. “Let me go, so I can save Brigid. You’re just in the way, Fed.”
At least the guy finally realized Raider was a Fed.
The elevator door opened, and Raider partially turned as Wolfe drew a gun from his desk drawer. The gun quickly disappeared as Nari Zhang clip-clopped into the room in sparkly pink heels.
The dog perked up, his gaze on the shoes.
The petite woman rolled her eyes. “You are neither wearing or eating these, Roscoe.”
With a soft whimper, the dog put his head back down. Sean looked at the animal. “He wears heels?”
“Yes.” Nari pulled out Malcolm’s empty chair and sat, sliding a manila file toward Sean. “He has a short-dog complex, even though he isn’t short, and often tries to make himself taller.” She swept her hand toward the dog sitting on top of the desk instead of below it. “The problem is, he then tries to eat the heels. It has become expensive.”
Raider cleared his throat and tried to force thoughts of Brigid to the back of his mind. “Dr. Nari Zhang, this is Sean Banaghan, Brigid’s dad.”
“Hello.” The shrink held out a hand with light pink nails, and Sean took it gingerly. When he released her, she pointed to the folder. “Eddie Coonan has criminal enterprises all over the world, and he’s expanding quickly in ways his father never would’ve approved. He’s going to get caught, and when he does, he’s going to talk about everything and everybody.”
