Ethan gave his uncaring shrug. “No problem. Just amazed at the elaborate digs the Boss has.”
Guerra’s snarl turned to an agreeing smile under the spotlights beaming down on them and most likely recording their every word. Ethan looked forward to confiscating the surveillance to see who else had come through these doors in the past. He wouldn’t stop until this whole outfit—and everyone a part of it—was disassembled. He looked at the back of Roni’s black leather coat, her long silky hair cascading down it, and thought whatever it took, he would deliver...even her.
The huge wooden door ahead of them opened slowly on silent hinges. A man dressed in a black suit with jet-black hair waited on the other side. He stood tall with his arms down in a relaxed pose. The cavernous room behind him displayed the heads of elk and bear. Ethan judged the bear to be a grizzly but didn’t dare take his eyes off the man to be sure.
“Bring her into the light,” the man ordered. Franco went to push Roni forward, but she stepped up willingly.
Too willingly, Ethan thought. Was there any fear in the woman at all?
Or maybe her involvement was more than opening her track to the organization. Maybe she’d been here before. Would he find her on the surveillance?
Ethan gave a last hooded search to the tree line. Anytime, boys, he thought. But no hint of backup didn’t mean they weren’t out there. He trusted his team to show up when he needed them most.
The man at the door said, “Veronica Spencer, is it?”
Ethan perked an ear for the direction of the conversation in front of him. It would determine his next move. If things went south his gun would be coming out with or without backup.
“Yes. I’m Veronica Spencer.” Roni lifted her chin, her voice clear of any hesitation.
“You’re very pretty.”
Ethan couldn’t see Roni’s face as he waited for her response...which didn’t come.
So, flattery was all it took to silence Roni Spencer’s tongue? Fancy that.
The man pressed in close to her, and Ethan moved up, as well. The guy lifted a hand to her hair. Ethan spread his fingers to make ready for a grab.
“I said, you’re very pretty. Has anyone ever told you that?”
She shrugged. “Sure, but I never believed it.”
The man smiled from one side of his mouth. “Let me assure you, you are.”
“Oh, well, if you assure me, then it must be true.”
Sarcasm. Thick as the wood beams holding this cavern up.
Ethan stifled a cough. Was the woman blind to the danger? Why would she throw the man’s compliment back in his face?
If this was the Boss, Roni could have just signed her death warrant. If the woman kept this up, Ethan figured saving sand from slipping through his fingers would be easier than keeping her alive.
The silence in the room thickened as the man studied her face. Her response confounded him just as much as it did Ethan.
Was this even the leader of the organization? Or another scout?
The man cleared his throat. “I’ve arranged a room for you upstairs. You’ll find it comfortable...and what you’re accustomed to, I’m sure.”
So the guy knew who he had. Maybe that would help Ethan keep her alive.
“I don’t plan to be here long,” she said flippantly.
Ethan fisted his hands and pressed his lips. Oh, why couldn’t this woman be the docile type?
A scar at the corner of the man’s eye ticked. Ethan willed Roni to pick up on the fine line she pushed against. The guy leaned in closer and so did Ethan, ready to remove Roni from his reach.
“Is that right? Was I wrong to show you hospitality, then?” he asked with eyebrows raised to the high wood-paneled ceilings.
“No, you will be compensated accordingly, sir,” Roni replied. “I can promise you that.”
The man’s brown eyes darkened; his jaw clicked. He looked to Franco Guerra with a snarl. “Guerra, I will see you in my office. Now.”
Guerra dropped his gaze with his nod. The response from the car thief spiked Ethan’s curiosity. Never had Ethan seen Franco drop his gaze to anyone.
Ethan’s heart picked up its pace, even as he set his face to be void of emotion. It wasn’t fear he checked. It was pure joy. He was in, and he’d found the mark. Or “the Boss” as Guerra called him, the head of the whole organization.
The heavy door slammed behind Ethan, echoing through the gaudy monstrosity funded by crime and jolting him back to his role here.
A young maid stepped out from behind a closed door, her head bent so low only the top of her silky black hair showed. Guerra cowered off like a leashed dog to the rear of the hall, and Ethan took a step to follow the men. Then two guards who were obviously packing heat followed the maid out into the hall and nodded to Roni to move up the stairs with them.
Ethan took a last look at the backs of Guerra and the Boss. He had a decision to make: find the evidence to take this crime ring down, or stay by Roni’s side and protect her with his life.
He took the stairs. Mutters beneath his breath denied he was going soft.
Pace’s voice in his head protested otherwise.
* * *
Roni’s jail cell gleamed with expensive golden decor likely imported from around the world. The white sateen feather blanket on the canopied bed looked luxurious and comfortable.
She avoided finding out.
The beauty of the room juxtaposed with the ugliness of her captivity made her blind to her surroundings’ appeal. No matter the extravagance, the room was still a jail cell.
Roni scanned the space for possible exits and cameras. She figured at least one guard stood out in the hall, if not more. Big Brother was watching. She cringed at the feeling.
So far her compliancy kept her from whatever nightmare was below the first floor. Could it really be a dungeon in the accurate sense of the word? Who built dungeons these days? Then again, who built castles?
Her own town of Norcastle had an old castle situated on top of the mountain, but it had been built by an eccentric relative of an English duke who moved to America nearly two hundred years ago. The building was now a historic landmark for tourists and hikers to climb to during the summer months.
But this place was different. A newly built replica of a medieval fortress designed for the sole purpose of flaunting wealth.
But wealth from what? she wondered. What exactly did the owner, “the Boss” as she overheard Guerra call him in the van, do to earn all this?
More importantly, how much money would appease him for her ransom if he had such extravagance already?
Roni approached the vanity. A three-way mirror caught her multiple reflections at different angles. Her gaze went to her scarf. From one side, her scars hid beneath the fabric. But not on her right. The right side had a way of peeking out. Jared reminded her of this whenever they were together. She made the adjustment to rectify it just as he would have. In this case, she would have let him. Something told her she had to make the Boss believe she was worth every penny he demanded from her family.
She wondered if they’d been notified yet and absently rubbed her fingers over the fabric of the chair.
“Mulberry silk,” she mumbled when the unique texture stole her attention. The finest and softest silk in the world. She would know after testing them all around her neck. She also knew it to be the most expensive and, at its exorbitant price, she’d passed on it