Dangerous (23 page)

If only she'd been able to call Drago, to let him know where she was headed. But her damn cell phone had tanked, so it was up to her. She could do what she had to do to get away. To get back to Drago. Suddenly she realized how important that was, being with the man who'd invaded her heart. She told herself that could still happen. She could take Angel.

But could she keep Sandy from suffering for it? She had to be very clever to get them both out of here in one piece.

“Where's the bathroom?” she asked, thinking of Noreen's story about how she got away from him. Maybe she could find something in the bathroom to use as a weapon.

“You don't need no bathroom. Change right here, while I watch. And oh, yeah, take off the underwear. She didn't wear no underwear.”

Camille assumed the “she” he referred to was Teresa. Had he raped his mother, then? Camille grew sick inside just thinking it, but it made her even more determined. Not just to get away, but to put an end to his killing streak.

Swallowing hard, she picked up the skirt and held it at her hips. “I don't think this is big enough to fit me.”

“Then I'll like it even more. Put it on!”

What she wanted to do was whip the skirt into his face and go for the gun. But having flipped the chair she'd been tied in around to face her, he sat in it and waited for his show. She wanted to give him one, up close and personal, but he was a bit too far away from her. And there was Sandy to think of. She had to get closer to Angel. Get him off guard. Find a weapon…

Her gaze flicked to the dresser behind him, where he'd laid out the makeup he'd used to paint her face, and a plan suddenly came to her. She whirled around, and in doing so got a good look at Sandy. The girl's face was as crumpled as her body. Not even sobbing anymore, she lay on the edge of the bed, her eyes open but unfocused, as still as death.

Their situation was about to change, and Camille only hoped Sandy had it in her to fight her way out of there.

“What are you waiting for?” Angel demanded.

“What's the rush?” Camille tossed her hair and gave him a burning look that told him what she'd actually like to do to him. “We have all the time in the world.”

Angel snorted. “
I
have all the time in the world. You have as much time as I allow you. Now change into those clothes.” He aimed her gun directly at Sandy. “Or else.”

Bile rose in Camille's throat, but she ignored it as she took off her shirt. The gleam in Angel's eyes made her want to slam the heel of her hand into his nose so hard that it went straight back into his brain. Unlikely that would actually happen even with a clean shot, but she could always hope.

Picking up the cheap cotton blouse, she managed to inch a little closer to him while pulling it over her head.

“I told you no underwear!”

Stepping even closer, she let the blouse hang in front of her breasts to keep them covered, reached in back and unclasped the bra, then slipped it off and dropped it to the floor. She slid the blouse into place without exposing herself. Even so, she could see the change in his expression as he got turned on. Good. He was getting distracted. That made him vulnerable.

“You want to see my breasts?” she whispered. The thin material of his mother's blouse hid very little as it was.

“Show me.”

Moving closer, she edged her breasts toward his face. His eyes got a glazed look and he licked his lips. From the corner of her eye, she could see that his gun hand had gone limp, that he wasn't pointing it directly at Sandy anymore.

“Have a taste.”

She stepped between his spread thighs while pushing her breasts even closer to his face. As he moved in, mouth open, she reached behind him and grabbed the makeup brush he'd used, sharp end out. His mouth was on her breasts now, sucking her flesh. Revolted, she made noises as if she liked it and moved against his body to distract him. Then she ran her free hand around the back of his head and slid it up so her hand was covering the top, her fingers splayed around him in a good grip. Then she jerked his head back.

“What the—”

She rammed the pointed end of the brush into his eye as hard and deep as she could. Goo oozed out of it.

He screamed, “Fucking bitch!” and she jammed her knee between his thighs, temporarily putting him out of commission.

Even so, she couldn't get her gun out of his hand, and he let off a couple of wild shots. Fearing he might hit her or Sandy, she shoved him hard, making the chair go over backward. He flailed and screamed some more as she flew to the bed and pulled the drugged girl to her feet.

“Come on. Let's get out of here!” She pushed Sandy toward the door.

The girl stumbled as she passed Angel, and he shot off the gun again, barely missing her. Not seeing a way to get her weapon away from him without one of them being hit, Camille kicked him in the head before jumping over him and pushing the girl out of the room. Sandy was swaying. Fearing she would fall, Camille hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her toward the kitchen.

“You can do this, Sandy. Come on. Try to focus on getting out of here. We're almost free!”

Camille's heart plummeted when she heard the scrabbling sounds from the bedroom, telling her that Angel was recovered enough to come after them. She rushed the girl into the kitchen as footsteps slammed through the apartment. Just steps from the back door, Sandy's legs seemed to go out from under her, and holding her weight, Camille couldn't get her to the door fast enough.

Not when Angel still had her gun.

A frantic Camille looked around for a weapon. A big iron frying pan filled with grease sat on the stove. Hanging on to the girl, she was reaching for it when Angel stumbled into the kitchen doorway, waving the gun, his face a mask of fury. He'd removed the eye shadow brush she'd shoved into his eye, but it was bloody and swollen nearly closed.

Camille let go of Sandy, grabbed the frying pan, and tossed it at him just as the gun went off.

Drago was checking the first-floor apartment when a gunshot jarred him back into the hallway. With his heart thundering, he took the stairs up to the second floor two at a time.

Camille! Don't let her be hurt! Don't let her be dead!

Scuffling competed with the thump of his feet hitting the steps, and instinctively, Drago knew Camille was fighting for her life. When he reached the top of the staircase, he didn't hesitate, but kicked open the door and jumped in. The noise wasn't coming from the kitchen.

Sandy was there, though, collapsed on the floor, leaning against a cabinet, her head bowed, eyes closed. Stopping only long enough to ascertain she had a pulse, and hoping the girl wasn't hurt too badly, he ran toward the grunts and screams coming from the next room. Pinned under Angel who was straddling her waist, Camille fought him like a hellion, both hands going for anything she could reach. He was holding a gun in one hand, his free hand roving all over her body. She grabbed his hand and tried to keep it from touching her, but he pulled it free and slapped her across the face. Hard.

Red-hot fury burned through Drago.

Rage drove him at the bastard's back. Angel turned, gun hand first, and though one eye was bruised and swollen shut, he tried to aim and squeezed the trigger. Drago dropped his shoulder, dodging the bullet that went wild, then sprang for the killer, landing on him and tearing him free of Camille.

“Drago!” she gasped.

The two men rolled across the floor, both of Drago's hands locked around Angel's gun hand. Finding a pressure point in the other man's wrist, he applied enough force to make him let go. The gun skittered away. A crazed Angel flipped Drago onto his back. He slammed so hard into the floor that pain from the gunshot wound took away his breath for a moment. Now straddling
him
, Angel placed both hands around Drago's neck and squeezed before he could recover.

“Let go of him, you bastard!” Camille screamed.

“What'll you do to me if I don't?”

“How about this?”

Drago was struggling to breathe when he saw what looked like a frying pan connect with the side of Angel's head. The hands around his neck went flaccid, and the man's good eye rolled, then closed as he fell forward onto Drago. With a grunt, Drago shoved him to the side, where he landed in an unconscious heap, blood trickling down the side of his head.

As he rose from the floor, Drago told Camille, “Quick thinking,” even as she threw herself against him, winding her arms around his neck, her legs around his thighs.

He held her tightly as if he would never let her go. Her lips were so close, he couldn't resist. He kissed her, a long, sweet testament to his feelings for her. His chest tightening, he gripped her to him possessively. If anything had happened to her…

He tore his mouth free. “You're not hurt, are you?”

She shook her head and brushed his mouth with hers again. “Just a little sore.”

Drago turned to look at Angel, who was still unconscious. He swallowed hard, but he had to know. “What did he do to you?”

“Not what he had planned. Thankfully, you got here in time. Wait—how
did
you get here? How did you know where to go?”

“Long story. It can wait.” As much as he wanted to hold on to her forever, to tell her how much he loved her, now was not the time. Later, when they were alone, when he could show her how he felt about her, when he could convince her to give them a chance. He set her down and let her go. “We need to check on the kid.”

Camille swept up the gun Angel had dropped and tucked it into her waistband. “And I need to call Jackson.”

He led the way into the kitchen. “Why didn't you call him before? Or me, for that matter?”

“My cell was dead and wouldn't charge in the car. Can I borrow yours?”

He handed it to her before kneeling next to Sandy and gently waking her. She started when she saw him.

“It's okay,” he said. “You're going to be okay.”

“Who are you?”

“Camille's friend.”

“C-Camille's…” Looking past him, she faltered. Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

Drago turned just as a very conscious Angel stumbled into the room and grabbed Camille from behind. She dropped the cell, as, with his free hand, he pulled her gun from her waistband and put it to her head.

Angel stroked her forehead with the barrel of her gun. “Now you all die, starting with the bitch.”

Sandy squealed then softly began to cry.

“Wait!” Desperate to stall Angel, Drago faced him, keeping his right arm relaxed but slightly behind him. “Surely you don't think we're the only ones who know that Angel is really Oscar Ybarra.”

A flicker of surprise on Camille's face reflected Angel's expression.

“Yeah, so what?”

“The police are already on their way to arrest you.” He hoped it was an effective lie. Drago slid his hand slowly toward his waist.

“I'll be gone before they get here.”

Drago tried to signal Camille without being obvious, then pointed his gaze over Angel's shoulder to the windows. “Those flashing blue lights mean they're here for you now!”

Angel glanced back long enough for Drago to dodge his head, hoping Camille would do the same, as he retrieved his gun from his waistband.

“Ain't no blue lights!”

And as he turned back, Camille ducked her head and Drago took his shot.

A hole decorated the killer's forehead and his good eye opened wide before he dropped like a dead weight. Camille sprang free and immediately kicked the gun from his hand.

“I don't think he'll be using that or any weapon ever again.” Just to be sure, Drago leaned over and checked for a pulse. His gaze met Camille's and he shook his head.

Shock was written all over her. Her face. Her stiff stance.

Drago had never killed before, had never wanted to, not even now, but it had finally happened. He couldn't be sorry that he'd stopped Angel from taking Camille's life, but he regretted having to do something he'd vowed he would never do. He'd never meant to kill anyone. And the woman he loved would undoubtedly hold the fact that he just had against him.

If he and Camille had had any chance at a relationship, that, too, was now dead.

“Jackson's on his way with the crime scene unit.” Still in shock at the turn of events, Camille handed Drago the cell phone she'd retrieved from where she'd dropped it.

Drago nodded but didn't say anything as he pocketed it, then lifted Sandy from the floor and set her on a kitchen chair. “Better?” he asked.

Sandy nodded but didn't say a word.

Drago found a glass and filled it with water. “Here, drink this. Help is going to be here soon.”

Camille swallowed hard as she watched a totally different side of Drago emerge from the one who'd saved her. He was gentle with Sandy. Comforting even.

“My mom?” the girl whispered. “Can I see my mom?”

Camille said, “Detective Jackson said he would call her and tell her to meet us at the hospital.”

“Hospital? No! I want to go home!”

“You will.” Camille took the girl's hand and tried to reassure her. “We just have to make sure you're okay first. That you weren't hurt.”

Sandy licked her lips and looked around wildly until her gaze settled on Angel's body. Then she took a deep breath and seemed to calm a bit. Still, her eyes were shadowed with fear when she asked, “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course.” When Camille said, “I'll ride in the ambulance with you,” Sandy threw her arms around Camille and clutched her like she would never let go. Her eyes stung as they met Drago's. She hugged the girl, hoping to make her feel better. “But by the time we get to the hospital, your mom will probably be there waiting for you.”

Sandy released her and sank back into her chair. “She's going to be really mad at me for going off to meet him.” Her gaze strayed back to Angel's body.

“Maybe,” Drago said, “but she's going to be relieved to get you back safely. That's the most important thing to her, because she loves you.”

Camille forced a smile for the girl's sake. She should be smiling. This was a happy ending, wasn't it?

It was over.

Angel was dead. No, Oscar Ybarra was dead. Drago hadn't hesitated. She'd been seconds from death and he'd saved her.

The wail of sirens suddenly caught her attention. “They're here.”

“I'll go meet them, bring them up here.”

Before she could object, Drago was gone.

He was acting strangely. Quiet. Withdrawn, even. Maybe that's how you felt after taking a life. She didn't know, because thankfully, she'd never had to do it. But there was no doubt in her mind that if their positions had been reversed, she wouldn't have hesitated. She would have taken that shot to save him.

The next ten minutes went by in a whirl. Drago bringing Jackson and his team into the apartment. An EMT checking Sandy over, insisting they take her to the ambulance on a stretcher. Camille holding her hand as they put her into the ambulance.

“I need to take your statement, Martell,” Jackson said.

He'd followed with Drago behind him. And behind them, Angel was being carried out of the building in a body bag.

“Let me get Sandy to the hospital first. She's scared and needs me. You talked to her mother?”

He nodded. “Gloria Kawecki should be there when the ambulance comes in. It felt great to give someone related to this case good news for once.”

Camille nodded and turned to Drago. “I'll see you in the ER. When Jackson is done with us, I could use a ride back to get my car.”

She could use a lot of things, starting with his arms around her again. But he didn't make a move toward her, so she climbed into the back of the ambulance and held Sandy's hand all the way to the hospital.

And on the way there, she couldn't help but think how her mistrust in Drago had been misplaced. From everything she'd learned about him, not only from his brother but from herself, she realized they were more alike than different in ways that counted.

Once at the hospital, she gave up Sandy to her mom, who was crying joyful tears as she clasped her daughter close.

Camille's throat closed. She was so grateful that this hadn't turned into another tragedy like the one with Emily that she couldn't speak.

Longing for strong arms around her, she backed off and waited for Drago to arrive. But when the ER doors opened nearly half an hour later, it was to admit Jackson.

“Sorry it took me so long. I took Nance's statement.”

She glanced behind him. No Drago. “Where is he?”

“Got me. He's not here? He drove off before I did.”

So why wasn't he here? Surely he was coming. So why did her chest feel so tight? She felt like she was floating and couldn't find an anchor to keep her grounded. Drago was her anchor. At least she hoped he was.

As she gave Jackson her account of how she'd found Sandy and of what had happened with the man who called himself Angel, Camille kept looking to the ER entrance every time the doors opened. But Drago never came through them.

Eventually she faced the truth: his assignment was finished.

Drago Nance wasn't coming for her ever again.