Wrong Place, Wrong Man

Chapter 14 - Wanted

LORENZO

One.

She nearly broke her ankle before she made it through the door.

Two.

Someone behind me laughed.

I didn’t.

Three.

By the time the sound of her bare feet disappeared down the corridor, I was beginning to think letting her run had been a mistake.

Four.

Not because I thought she’d escape.

Because I was beginning to want her to.

Five.

I picked up my glass.

Six.

Marco shifted beside the door.

Seven.

“Boss.”

I lifted one finger.

Eight.

He shut his mouth.

Nine.

The whiskey burned pleasantly as I swallowed.

Ten.

I lowered the glass.

“Bring her back.”

The room emptied immediately.

“And gentlemen?”

Marco stopped at the door.

“Try not to damage her.”

His eyes flicked toward me.

It lasted less than a second.

Still too long.

“Something you want to say?”

“No, boss.”

“Good.”

He disappeared into the corridor.

I remained where I was.

For approximately twelve seconds.

Then I walked to the window.

The waterfront stretched beyond the glass, wet and black beneath the night sky. From here I could see part of the access road, the trees beyond the eastern side of the property and fragments of the marina farther out.

No Bonnie.

Of course not.

I slipped one hand into my pocket.

I had expected her to run.

That was why I’d offered.

Fear made people predictable. They ran toward light, noise, crowds. They looked for the first door marked EXIT and convinced themselves freedom was waiting behind it.

Bonnie Powell had spent the last twenty minutes demonstrating that fear hadn’t made her particularly sensible.

But it hadn’t made her weak either.

That was the problem.

My mouth tightened.

Problem.

An hour ago, the word would have had a simple meaning.

She had witnessed something she wasn’t supposed to witness.

She had seen a man die.

She had seen my men.

She had been brought directly to me.

There were rules for situations like that.

Rules I’d followed for years because men who allowed emotion to interfere with necessity generally didn’t remain alive long enough to regret it.

Bonnie should have been simple.

Instead, I’d given her a head start.

My earpiece crackled.

“She’s not at the main stairs.”

I frowned.

“Repeat that.”

“Main staircase is clear.”

I looked toward the office door.

Interesting.

“Check the service corridors.”

A pause.

“Already doing it.”

Another voice broke through.

“Got her. East side, second floor.”

I waited.

“She took the fire exit.”

My gaze shifted toward the windows.

The eastern fire exit opened onto the access road behind the building.

Not the quickest route out.

But it avoided the gate.

A slow smile threatened the corner of my mouth.

Clever girl.

I suppressed it.

“Positions.”

Men answered one after another.

North gate.

Main entrance.

Waterfront.

Service road.

Park.

She wasn’t getting far.

I poured another inch of whiskey into my glass.

“Boss?”

Marco.

“What?”

“She cleared the wall.”

My hand stopped.

“She what?”

A different voice answered, considerably more amused.

“She f*****g vaulted it.”

Silence.

Then Marco again.

“She’s in the park.”

I looked down at my drink.

Perhaps this evening wasn’t going to be quite as boring as I’d thought.

“Follow her.”

“We are.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

The connection went quiet.

I took another drink.

The woman had been frightened in my office.

I’d felt it myself.

Her pulse had hammered beneath my thumb while she’d stood inches from me pretending she wasn’t contemplating every possible way the situation could end.

She hadn’t hidden the fear particularly well.

She simply hadn’t surrendered to it.

There was a difference.

I’d seen men twice her size collapse when they understood who was standing in front of them.

Bonnie had grabbed my f*****g jacket.

My eyes lowered involuntarily toward my shirt.

I could still remember her fingers twisted into the fabric.

But you don’t get this.

Me begging.

I exhaled slowly.

That should not have interested me as much as it had.

Neither should the memory of her eyes dropping to my mouth.

Twice.

I knew attraction when I saw it.

I’d seen enough of it directed at me to recognise it without needing confirmation.

What interested me was how angry she’d become when she realised I’d noticed.

The earpiece crackled again.

“There!”

Then running.

Heavy breathing.

A curse.

I waited.

“What happened?”

No answer.

“Marco.”

“Not me.”

“Then who?”

“Daniel.”

A muffled voice followed.

“She f*****g hit me.”

“With what?”

Silence.

“With what, Daniel?”

“A shoe.”

I stared out of the window.

Someone behind me coughed.

I turned my head.

Antonio was still standing beside the table, apparently having decided that remaining invisible was his safest option.

“Leave.”

He was gone before I’d finished the word.

I looked back toward the waterfront.

A shoe.

A laugh almost escaped me.

Almost.

“Get her back here.”

Marco’s voice came through.

“You’re enjoying this.”

My expression cooled.

“Careful.”

“Just an observation.”

“Make another one and you’ll be searching the marina for your teeth.”

“Understood.”

A beat passed.

Then:

“Boss?”

“What now?”

“She reached the docks.”

I set my glass down.

That was less amusing.

“Which docks?”

“South side.”

I was already walking.

I left the office, crossed the corridor and took the stairs down.

By the time I reached the ground floor, voices were coming through the earpiece from three directions.

She’d changed route again.

One of the men had nearly caught her.

She’d slipped away.

Then another voice.

“She’s trapped.”

I stopped.

“Where?”

“End of Dock Seven.”

Good.

Enough.

I continued toward the exit.

Then someone shouted.

“Don’t.”

Silence followed.

My steps slowed.

“What is she doing?”

Nobody answered.

“What the f**k is she doing?”

“She took her shoes off.”

I frowned.

Why the hell would she…

“Boss.”

Something in Marco’s voice changed.

Then another man shouted her name.

A splash came through the earpiece.

I stopped dead.

For several seconds nobody spoke.

Then:

“She jumped.”

My jaw tightened.

“Jumped where?”

A pause.

“Into the marina.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course she f*****g had.

“Get her out.”

“We can’t see her.”

My eyes opened.

“What do you mean you can’t see her?”

“She went under.”

Something unpleasant tightened beneath my ribs.

I pushed through the exterior doors.

Cold air hit me.

“Lights on the water. Now.”

Men began moving.

“Check beneath every dock. Nobody gets into a boat unless I authorise it. Cover the beach and pedestrian bridge.”

I walked faster.

“And Marco?”

“Yes?”

“If anyone fires a weapon anywhere near that water, I’ll put him in it myself.”

A brief silence.

“Understood.”

I reached the marina several minutes later.

Searchlights cut across black water.

Men moved between docks.

No Bonnie.

I stood at the edge and stared into the darkness.

A witness drowning should have solved my problem.

Instead, the possibility that she might be somewhere beneath that water made something cold settle in my chest.

I didn’t like it.

Not at all.

“How long?”

Marco appeared beside me.

“Six minutes since she jumped.”

“And nobody saw her surface?”

“Briefly. Under the dock. Then we lost her.”

I turned slowly toward him.

“You lost a blonde woman in an ivory blouse.”

“In black water.”

“There are twelve of you.”

“She can swim.”

“I gathered that.”

“Not just swim.”

I looked at him.

Marco gestured toward the marina.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

That changed things.

I returned my attention to the water.

Think.

She’d known the park.

She’d known which direction to run.

And if Marco was right, she knew the marina.

Which meant she wasn’t simply reacting anymore.

She was planning.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

The search expanded.

Men moved toward the shoreline.

Still nothing.

“Maybe she made the beach,” Marco said.

“No.”

He glanced at me.

“You sound certain.”

“She didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Because I’d watched her.

Because every time we’d offered her the obvious choice tonight, she’d rejected it.

She hadn’t begged when begging was expected.

She hadn’t taken the staircase when running downstairs was obvious.

She hadn’t chosen the shortest path through the park.

And now my men were covering every logical route toward civilisation.

Restaurants.

Hotels.

Main roads.

People.

She would know that.

My gaze travelled across the marina.

“She turned around.”

Marco frowned. “What?”

“She went back.”

“Back where?”

I looked toward the maze of docks.

“Behind us.”

His expression changed.

I almost smiled.

She’d made them expand the search.

Every minute my men moved farther away, the area they’d already checked became safer.

She wasn’t trying to outrun twelve men anymore.

She was letting them outrun her.

Fuck.

I liked the way she thought.

Far too much.

“Pull everyone back?” Marco asked.

“No.”

He stared at me.

“No?”

“If we pull back, she’ll know.”

“So?”

“So let her think it’s working.”

Understanding slowly appeared on his face.

“You want her to come out.”

“I want to know where.”

I studied the marina.

If she knew this area, she wouldn’t choose a random dock.

She’d want somewhere quiet. Somewhere connected to a road. Somewhere she could get out of the water without being seen and disappear quickly.

“Where are the old service exits?”

Marco pointed toward the western side.

“Two. One near the storage building. Another farther north.”

“Keep everyone away from them.”

His eyebrows rose.

“You’re setting a trap.”

“No.”

I started toward the car.

“I’m going to collect my witness.”

Marco looked toward the marina.

“Want company?”

“No.”

That earned me another look.

I stopped.

“Is there a reason everyone has become unusually interested in questioning me tonight?”

“No, boss.”

“Excellent.”

I drove west.

Alone.

The service lane beside the old storage building was dark when I arrived.

I killed the headlights.

Then I waited.

Five minutes.

Nothing.

Ten.

Still nothing.

Perhaps I’d been wrong.

That irritated me more than it should have.

I stepped from the car and leaned against the open door.

The marina was quiet from this side.

My thoughts returned, annoyingly, to the woman somewhere inside it.

Twenty-four.

Corporate events.

No husband.

No boyfriend.

No one waiting at home.

I had asked those questions because they mattered.

That was what I’d told myself.

Now I wasn’t entirely certain.

A faint sound came from the dock.

Water.

I straightened.

Nothing moved.

Then fingers appeared over the edge.

Wet.

Pale.

A second hand followed.

And then her head.

Long blonde hair hung darkened with water around her face as she dragged herself onto the boards.

I didn’t move.

She collapsed onto her back.

For several seconds, Bonnie Powell simply lay there beneath the night sky.

Alive.

The tension in my chest disappeared so quickly that irritation replaced it almost immediately.

Ridiculous.

Then she laughed.

Actually laughed.

Quiet and breathless.

“You arrogant bastard,” she whispered.

My mouth curved.

She thought she’d won.

I waited until she pushed herself upright.

Her blouse clung to her body. Her skirt was torn nearly to her thigh. Mud streaked one leg. Her bare feet were marked from running, and she was shivering hard enough that I could see it even from where I stood.

She looked exhausted.

Dishevelled.

Furious.

Beautiful.

That last thought arrived without invitation.

I turned the headlights on.

She froze.

The expression on her face was worth every minute I’d spent waiting.

I stepped away from the car.

“There you are.”