Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (27 page)

She hadn’t withstood the test of parenthood, but as Belle had driven home these last two weeks, it took two people to make a marriage work. If what his mother had said was true, then…

“What are you thinking about?” his wife asked him.

He laughed. “Where shall I start? I’ve been thinking about my mother. I’ve decided to give her a chance. She was selfish and unloving when I was young, but people can change.”

Belle’s joy glowed from her face. Realizing she was happy for
him
sent a bolt of emotion so strong through him that he had to swallow several times just to be able to breathe.

God, now he
really
wanted to be alone with her.

Sighing under his breath, he turned to a passing waiter and picked up a glass of champagne. Surreptitiously, he glanced at the mantel clock—only he wasn’t sly enough. Alex, who stood talking to the Greek Ambassador, saw him and winked.

Casting him a wry smile, Nick heard him cut across what the Ambassador was saying. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ambassador, it’s getting late. I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow, so please excuse me,” Alex said, loudly, for other guests to hear.

The other man looked startled, but he nodded and shook the hand Alex held out.

Nick sent his cousin a grateful look when suddenly everyone concurred it was time to leave. Within half an hour, only the wait staff and Belle’s parents remained.

After seeing them off, she joined Nick on the balcony. “I saw you chatting to Liz earlier,” she observed.

“Yes, that friend of yours is a goddamned Rottweiler. Her grilling technique would be most welcome in the Marines. I had to swear my devotion to you on a stack of Bibles before she relented. She also said something about having my guts for garters. Oh, and I found out why she hates those guts so much.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, but I’m not telling you. Suffice it to say, I made a stupid comment that she took to heart. The air’s been cleared.” He made a silent vow never to discuss his wife while her best friend was in the vicinity.

A loud crash in the kitchen drew their attention. Belle answered his question before he voiced it. “There are one or two of the caterers still here.”

“You want me to go check?” he offered.

“No, you don’t want to go in there when Bertrand’s reading them the riot act for breaking his china. Allen should be ringing shortly, yes?” He didn’t miss the anxiety in her voice.

“Yes. Come with me to the study.”

He crossed to his phone the moment they entered his study.

“Anything?” Belle asked.

The answer phone light wasn’t blinking. He checked his cell phone. No missed calls. As a last resort, he fired up his laptop to see if there were any messages to his other accounts. When that drew a blank, anxiety crept through him. “No, there’s nothing. Damn it, we
should’ve
heard back by now,” he growled.

She slid a soothing hand over his nape. “Let’s give it a few more minutes—”

A second crash from the kitchen made them both look up. “What the hell is going on—” He stopped abruptly when the phone rang.

Belle squeezed his shoulder. “Get the call. I’ll go and make sure everything’s fine in the kitchen.”

He snatched up the phone as she walked away, the seductive sway of her body making his breath catch all over again.

“Andreakos,” he rasped.

“Sir, we have a problem,” Allen said without preamble.

Nick froze. “What kind of problem?”

“The man we have here in Dusseldorf, he’s not Mwana. We’ve interrogated him. He goes by the name of Richard Francis, and he says he’s working with Mwana. I’m sorry, sir, but we think Mwana is—”

“
Here
,” Nick finished for him, every muscle in his body clenching hard. A millisecond later, he dropped the phone. His chair crashed backward as he launched himself toward the door and hit the hallway in a dead run.

No! No, no,
no
!

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

The hairs on his nape rose, but he fought the alarm growing inside him as he veered toward the kitchen. Bodyguards were stationed downstairs and all around the building. No one could get in or out without being seen.

It’s nothing. You’re imagining things
.

A heartbeat later, he knew he wasn’t.

Chapter Sixteen

Charles Mwana was waiting for him—albeit at first glance he looked nothing like the rebel soldier they’d seen on screen two days ago.

Mwana had gone to great lengths to disguise himself. His light brown hair had been dyed black, and the livid scar had been hidden under carefully applied prosthetic makeup. Combined with the black-and-white waiter’s outfit, there was no way he could’ve been picked out as a threat.

Dear God, the man had dared to enter their home!

Mwana had one arm locked around Belle’s shoulders, and the other held a deadly looking knife to her throat.

The air left Nick’s lungs in a painful punch. He tried to breathe through it as he assessed the situation. His insides twisted when he saw his wife’s ripped dress. She’d also lost a shoe.

He couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. He didn’t dare. He knew he’d lose it completely if he saw so much as a hint of pain in her face. So he kept his eyes on her captor as he stepped into the room.

Mwana’s voice stopped him. “Good of you to join us. You were almost too late. We would’ve taken our leave by now if your butler hadn’t got in the way. Sorry I had to get rid of him. He was making a nuisance of himself. But I’m glad you’re here. Now you get to pay for destroying my life.”

Devastation raged through Nick’s insides as he took another step and saw Bertrand slumped next to the fridge. Looking closer, he saw the Frenchman’s chest rise on a shallow breath.
Thank God!
He breathed a fraction easier and made a silent promise to triple the man’s salary.

“How exactly did I destroy your life, Mwana?” he demanded. The first rule of engagement—keep the enemy talking. “The way I see it, you brought everything down on yourself. Oh. Clever disguise, by the way.”

A cruel smile curved the African’s thin lips. “It fooled your security downstairs. Just as I’ve been fooling your bunch of toy soldiers all over the world. Where are they, by the way? Let me guess, they’re still chasing their tails in Bumfuck, Germany, correct?”

The man’s ingenuity and precise knowledge of Allen’s movements threw Nick for a nanosecond, but he rallied. “You know very well where they are since you handed them your colleague, Francis.” He strove to keep his voice calm and even.

“Ah, yes, Richard. Do you believe in fate, Mr. Andreakos?”

Nick shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Well, Richard was a bit like your wife here. He came to Nawaka on a mission. Except he lost sight of what that mission was. One little fatal slip with a local girl, and he was lost. Fate brought me in, and I rescued him. Just as I intend to rescue my sweet Belle.” Mwana’s arm tightened around her shoulders.

She choked out a moan.

Nick’s gut clenched, but his gaze stayed on his quarry. “I’m not going anywhere. Why don’t you put the knife down?”

“I wish I could. But I’m reluctant to let go of my precious bounty a second time, you see.”

“She’s not yours, Mwana. She never will be.”

An ugly expression crossed the bastard’s face. “That’s where you’re wrong. We had…we
have
a connection. She made a promise to me in Nawaka. You’ve tried to brainwash her into believing otherwise, but what we felt for each other is still there, and this time you will not stand in my way. I
will
claim my prize.”

“So you don’t intend to harm her?”

The rebel leader frowned as if Nick spoke a foreign language. “Of course not. Why would I? She’s mine.”

The words made him sick with nausea, but he forced himself to focus. “Then put the knife down,” Nick suggested again. He took another step forward fighting the fear shuddering through his body. “If she’s truly yours, you have nothing to worry about.”

“No can do. You’ve proved to me time and again that you’re not a gentleman.
You
can’t be trusted. And don’t think I don’t realize what you’re doing. Be assured, I will use this knife on your butler if you come any closer.”

Nick paused. Bertrand was close enough to make the threat a deadly one.

Belle let out a sound of distress.

Black rage roared through Nick’s veins, but he stayed where he was. Fighting to clear the haze of fury before his eyes, he tried to think rationally. There was no way the man was leaving here with Belle, that was a given, but Nick needed to find a way to stop the bastard before he even made a move.

Keep him talking
. “You were telling me how you came to be here,” he prompted.

“My puppet turned out to be very resourceful.”

“Francis?”

“It was a bit of a stretch, but he took on the role with aplomb. He offered to go to Dusseldorf in my place, disguised as me. His last hurrah, shall we say? That freed me to be here. But since there’s no more need for this disguise—”

The arm locked around Belle’s neck tightened as he peeled back the soft prosthetic flesh on his cheek to reveal the jagged scar on his face.

Nick’s fists clenched, willing the man to make a wrong move, but Mwana stayed sharp.

Belle coughed. “You claim you’re an honorable man, and yet you resort to blackmail.”

The arm around her shoulders tightened, and Nick rose to the balls of his feet, ready to lunge.

“I do whatever I need to survive, my dear, especially when I’m pushed, as your husband here has pushed me. Richard had a dirty little habit that caught up with him.” Mwana’s lips curled. “He’s merely making amends for his sins.”

“So, what, he used his connections to get you the names of wealthy women whom you then kidnapped and raped? And then he fed you more information to help you evade the authorities?” Nick’s voice remained calm, almost conversational, as he made his accusations.

“I have never raped anyone!” Mwana took a deep breath. “Belle will testify to that. I never forced her. All the promises she made were of her own free will.”

“While held at gunpoint?” Nick took a casual half-step closer.

Mwana’s smile widened, and he rubbed his cheek against hers. “Only until we were free of the other encumbrances. You see, Nick, we have an undeniable bond. She sensed me at the party tonight, didn’t you, my sweet? You looked for me, but I couldn’t reveal myself, not just then.” He looked straight at Nick, hatred boiling in his eyes. “She was going to help me take Nawaka, but thanks to you, I no longer have my most trusted men, and my funds are dwindling. It’s regrettable, but I’ve learned over the years to adapt.”

“So aside from Belle, you’re here for another reason?” Nick planted his feet firmly on the ground in preparation.

“A small slice of your fortune as reparations for what you took from me, and also to ensure Belle doesn’t suffer a life of drudgery. Surely you’ll want that for her?” His eyes gleamed with an unholy light.

Nick’s heart clenched. Blood pounded at his temples. With difficulty, he fought not react to the man’s twisted words. “Sure I do. But there’s a slight problem with that scenario. You see, there’s no way you’re leaving here with my wife. So why don’t you do everyone a favor, and put the knife down?”

…

Belle held her breath, terrified of what Mwana’s reaction would be to Nick’s bald statement. Nick wasn’t aware that Mwana carried a hidden gun as well as the knife. Her heart hammered as she prayed Nick wouldn’t give him cause to use it. For the umpteenth time, she tried to catch his eye so she could signal him somehow, but he evaded her.

Look at me!

But his gaze remained on her captor.

Fear and frustration engulfed her. She glanced around wildly, trying to find something, anything, to balance the odds in their favor.

She noticed movement in her peripheral vision. A few feet away, Bertrand’s foot twitched. He was regaining consciousness.

Praying Mwana wouldn’t notice, she pretended to wilt against him. When he hoisted her up, she repositioned herself closer to the butler. She waited until Mwana started talking, then sagged again. This time she got close enough to subtly nudge Bertrand with her foot.

The foot twitched again and to distract Mwana, she spoke loudly. “Please, I can’t breathe,” she moaned, and saw Nick’s fists clench tighter. It tore her apart to see what her pretense did to him.

Again, she tried to capture his attention, to signal she was all right, but he was focused with deadly intent on Mwana. From the corner of her eye, she saw Bertrand’s foot move, then slowly withdraw completely from her field of vision.

Mwana hoisted her up, his arm pressing against her windpipe. “Never mind, my sweet. We’re getting out of here now. I’m tired of talking. Tell your husband to move, would you? I hate to resort to violence, and your skin is too lovely to mar with knife wounds.”

This time Nick’s eyes connected with hers, but only for a split second, and the look in them stilled her heart. Raw, murderous intent, calm, deadly determination, and an indecipherable emotion twisted together to chill her blood.

She knew he wouldn’t let the other man leave with her. Nick would rather die than let her go.

And it was that thought which scared her the most. The thought of him in danger made her insides churn with fear.

Mwana shuffled forward, dragging her along.

Nick took a sideways step, his stance loose and easy, as if making way for them.

She closed her eyes and made her decision.

Thank God for stilettos
. She stamped down hard on Mwana’s foot.

The next few moments blurred into one. The instant Mwana’s arm loosened its hold on her, Nick lunged forward and yanked her away, spinning her aside. She crashed against the sink, but managed to stop herself from falling.

Nick grabbed Mwana’s arm holding the knife and landed a punch in his solar plexus.

The madman didn’t even wheeze in pain. Calmly, he reached behind him.

“Watch out, Nick, he’s got a gun!” she cried, trying to get round Nick again.