Hard to Kill: a Hard Targets novel Read online

  Evan eyed the contact, but didn't say a word. Marco still had that damn smile on his face.

  "You have certain attributes that carry quite a price to some people," Marco said.

  "Really, that's interesting. Most people I know can't wait to get rid of me." Sabrina bit back the expletives at the tip of her tongue and ignored the pain tunneling through her arm due to Scar Man's brutal grip.

  "In a very short period of time, I guarantee you will be more cooperative than you ever imagined."

  Dread skipped along her spine as the impact of his words hit home. How quickly she had gone from a kickass, nothing-could-stop-her woman to a fearful, vulnerable one with a few targeted threats. With the drugs, the cold, and the nakedness, their indoctrination techniques rivaled most. The slide into capitulation inched closer as the pressure on her arm reached "unbearable."

  Every word she uttered came with a swagger of confidence to counterbalance the pain both inside and out. Maybe there was something in the drug that brought her to a state somewhere between catatonic and submissive. She fought against it with every ounce of resistance she had.

  Scar Man pushed her up a narrow set of stairs leading to an open kitchen space. A traditional home in Austria, the house had wooden beams in the kitchen, stone floors, and an enormous fireplace. There was a door leading to the outside on the left-hand side.

  Maybe it was being out of the cavern they'd been housed in, but Sabrina felt a resurgence of her old self—the one that had taken a leave of absence from her psyche not ten seconds ago. She'd do her best to cause trouble, like she'd done from the earliest of ages. "You haven't drugged us, so what's going to ensure my cooperation? If we don't behave you'll sell us to the highest bidder?" She narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's right, you've already done that."

  "But I have a secret weapon." As Marco spoke, he brought a gun to Liz's head and cocked the hammer. "I know exactly how to control you."

  Liz's eyes went wide in fear. While her body began to shake, her lips moved in silent prayer.

  Sabrina should have figured he'd use leverage to keep her subdued. No doubt she'd tipped her hand she wasn't in fear for her life, but someone more vulnerable was a different story. That wouldn't stop her from coming up with a plan to outwit, outmaneuver, outman them despite the odds against her. She'd never failed a mission before and didn't plan on failing this one.

  Ingrained instincts had her surveying the room to identify areas of vulnerability, strength, and potential weapons within reach. The set of knifes held in a wooden block next to the stove made her heart go pitter-patter. While she tried to keep her gaze from straying too long, her brain ticked off her moves.

  Trepidation lit up her spine, enticing her gaze to the counter once again. Six knives, three men—could she do it? Speed and accuracy were key, and she had both. But timing wise it would be tricky.

  Negotiating around the counter toward the stove would take five seconds. With her hands together in cuffs, and Scar Man corralling her bicep, could she grasp and possibly injure one of the men? And, more importantly, could that happen before they got to Liz?

  Evan stared at her as if reading her thoughts. He shook his head almost imperceptibly then glanced at Marco, his point made without using words. Then again, maybe he was considering her earlier offer?

  "I'll get you some bread before we leave," Evan offered, earning a frown from Marco.

  "Why are you giving them food?" Marco screeched in German.

  "Because they haven't eaten in days and you don't want them passing out before we even get into the city. I might be a numbers guy, but you brought me here for a reason. I plan to make your operation more efficient and less costly. Let me do my job."

  Evan's expression remained indecipherable. He had a good poker face; not a speck of emotion gave anything away. Was it a hint of concern that reflected in his eyes when he handed her the bread? She couldn't tell if it was genuine concern, an agenda, or if he intended to go along with her earlier offer and getting them food was a sign of good faith.

  "Some water would be great as well," Sabrina said.

  Marco glanced at Evan and shook his head. "What did I tell you? Give them an inch and they ask for a mile."

  Evan shrugged but returned a few moments later with bread and bottled water. He handed the offering to both of them with no eye contact whatsoever. Mercifully, Scar Man let up on his death grip enough for her to gobble down the nourishment.

  "You wouldn't want your meal ticket to pass out in the middle of negotiations. No doubt that would lower the price considerably," Sabrina said between mouthfuls.

  Marco nodded his agreement with a smarmy smile. For once Sabrina didn't want to be agreed with.

  "You have a point. While G can be a little…ahem…shall we say, creative in the methods he uses to ensure complacency, he does expect his merchandise to be in good working order at the time of purchase."

  "Oh, Marco, you make a girl feel so important—like one of those blue-light specials at Kmart," Sabrina replied, mimicking a Southern accent.

  She glanced at Evan. Imagination or not, he had a strange look on his face. While his lips were drawn tight into a thin line, he worked his jaw back and forth a few times as if trying to figure something out. Was he going to rat her out? Or had her big mouth made him suspicious?

  She half expected him to blurt out the tale of her bribe. But he didn't. It was too soon to conclude that meant victory.

  After finishing off the last of the bread, she felt stronger. Much more herself and able to do what she needed to do. Once she chased it down with a bottle of water, she felt like she could tackle the world.

  "I don't want a word from you, Grace. Not one single word." Marco motioned toward Liz. "Or you know what will happen to your friend. You certainly don't want her to pay the price for your big mouth."

  He held the gun to Liz's head, and Sabrina closed her eyes and bit her tongue. She knew it was a test. For now, she'd be willing to play along.

  Marco smiled, looking pleased by her complacency. He nodded in that I-knew-that-would-work kind of way and handed the gun to Evan, who placed it in a holster under his jacket.

  "It's time to leave," Marco said.

  "Home?" Liz squeaked out the word like a two-year-old would after a long day away. Emotionally frayed and physically exhausted, Liz appeared to be near the breaking point. While her hands shook, her voice trembled. And she looked to be about ten seconds away from bursting into bone-racking sobs.

  Sabrina willed the poor girl a hint of composure by grasping her hands, trying to convey a measure of control with her touch. Liz's eyes remained downcast as she twisted at Sabrina's fingers.

  "But I thought you hated your life. You wanted adventure and to see the world. Now you're crying to go home." The mocking tone in Marco's voice rippled in the air. Sabrina didn't have to be psychic to recognize his words hit their intended target, effectively cutting off any further pleading by Liz.

  A vivid fantasy of grabbing Marco by the throat and bouncing his head of the cool concrete floor kept Sabrina from acting irrationally. Besides, this was a waiting game. Her time would come sooner or later. And it was all about timing.

  * * *

  A Mercedes sedan awaited them at the bottom of a series of cobblestone steps. Ironically, the exterior of Marco's house resembled a home from a fairy tale, with its cottagey appearance surrounded by a forest of trees. She could envision Little Red Riding Hood paying a visit any minute now.

  As picturesque as the setting might be, any hope for an immediate escape was dismissed when she recognized they were in the middle of nowhere with mountains on all sides. Definitely not an easy way out that she could see so far. Running through the forest hampered by mountains was not a recipe for success.

  Given the presence of the moon, and the miniscule amount of light, Sabrina guessed the time was close to three, maybe four in the morning. Once the terrain became more visible she might have a few more clues as to their location.

/>   Based on the abundance of mountains, the house had to be in the southern half of Austria. By US standards the acreage was miniscule, but by getting-out-of-Dodge standards, it was as vast as the Pacific Ocean. They might be close to Italy if in the southwest, Switzerland or Germany if straight west. Getting her bearings was high up on her list of things to figure out.

  Evan ushered her into the back seat then came around to the other side, assisting Scar Man then Liz before closing the door. He got behind the driver's seat while Marco occupied the front passenger seat. Scar Man positioned himself between her and Liz, stretching out in the back. No doubt satisfied the two of them were subdued and under control, he made himself comfortable, resting his arms across their shoulders, and slid down until his knees bumped the front seat.

  Within a few moments, he began to snore while his chin bobbed intermittently against his chest. Sabrina leaned against him. Not that she had a whole lot of choice considering the confines and his arm pressing against her shoulder. She feigned sleep, resting her head, and tried not to gag on the aroma wafting around him.

  The car heater brought the sensation of warmth to her chilled bones, allowing for a reprieve to her overworked psyche. With one less thing causing a brain drain, she could get down to the business of planning an escape.

  Scar Man's breathing slowed as he slid into a deep slumber. Capitalizing on the moment, she inched her tethered hands along his side, betting that he'd be sporting a pocketknife somewhere on his person.

  Securing some sort of a weapon before they got into town ranked as her number one priority. Being outnumbered she could handle, but without something to help even the odds, any attempt at freeing herself and Liz was a lesson in futility. She kept a vigilant eye on the driver's rearview mirror while her fingers snaked along the pudgy area above Scar Man's pants. Seconds later she touched what felt like a pouch. The resultant sliver of victory felt good despite the circumstances.

  Being orphaned at a young age, she and her brothers had learned lessons in survival. Pickpocketing was one of those skills, so the task wasn't difficult, even with her hands still bound. The weapon wasn't nearly as big or as lethal as she would have liked, but given the right angle she could perpetrate some damage. She slipped the knife into the pocket of her skirt while Scar Man continued to snore. Now she had to strategize how to take full advantage of her prize.

  They drove for an hour, maybe more. She tried to get a feel for the direction based on the countryside, since the sun hadn't yet started to rise in the sky. But darkness seemed to be her enemy.

  Evan and Marco remained eerily quiet in the front seat. Scar Man continued to sleep while Liz whimpered against the outside door. In a perfect world, she would offer the girl promises and reassurances of success, but that seemed impossible, especially since her main objective was escape and survival.

  Signs of the emerging town began with intermittent homes along the roadway. Within a few moments, two-story buildings came into view, along with groupings of larger structures and streets. Sabrina kept her head bowed, her position relaxed. All while every muscle in her body was charged with a heightened state of alert.

  She'd been trained by one of the best. Fooling Marco's merry men shouldn't be difficult as long as she kept her wits about her.

  After heeding directions from Marco, Evan parked along a deserted street on the outskirts of town in front of what looked like an abandoned house. He shut off the car, then got out and opened the back doors and helped both her and Liz maneuver out.

  She'd have to figure out her exact location later. But right now, she played her part—submissive and powerless—as she shuffled to a standing position outside the car with Scar Man in between her and Liz.

  "I'll wait here, with this one," Scar Man said, motioning toward Liz. "You take the other one to the meet with G. They'll be two of you and one of her in case she gets out of line."

  "That won't be necessary. She understands the gravity of any mistake," Marco responded, but Sabrina could tell by the tone in his voice that he was digesting the information, second-guessing his decision.

  "I don't trust her," Scar Man said while pointing to Sabrina.

  "You worry too much, Arte." Marco blew out a breath and eyed her. "She looks agreeable to me. Especially when we're holding her new friend for collateral." Marco ran his hand down the front of Sabrina's blouse, groping her breast. Suppressing the urge to utilize her weapon was a test of her patience. "See, nothing to be afraid of." He let loose a little chuckle.

  Scar Man, a.k.a. Arte, shook his head. "If you ask me, we should have taken care of her back in the States."

  "That's why you're not in charge." Marco encircled her bicep with his hand. "But you're right. Why show G everything we have from the get-go? Maybe we can up the price a little if we keep him guessing."

  "They're both redheads, as he requested, but the young one is a little scrawny; probably looked a lot better in the photos we sent him." Scar Man spat onto the ground, the spittle landing inches from Sabrina's toes. "You already know how I feel about that one."

  Right back atcha, bud.

  Scar Man was doing the hard sell, wanting to keep Liz around, which made Sabrina anxious. She could handle anything he might try without too much effort, especially with the weapon she'd commandeered, but Liz would be like a lamb brought to the slaughter. Pleading her case or reacting to their discussion in any way would let them know she understood German, so she kept her face impassive and bided her time.

  "You're not used to American women." Marco shrugged. "But I have to agree. I prefer peace and quiet to that mouth of hers." He grasped tighter on to Sabrina's bicep. "G has no idea what he's getting." Marco let out a girl-like giggle.

  Patience.

  Scar Man chuckled. "If you ask me, G deserves her."

  While she hated the idea of Liz stuck alone with Scar Man, that meant her own odds were lower. She could get away from Marco and Evan, and head back toward Liz.

  Evan spoke for the first time. "Where are we supposed to meet this guy?"

  "A man will be selling fresh flowers at a market a couple of blocks from here. We'll take turns bringing the women there so that G can see what he's paying for. He'll be watching from one of the rooms above." Marco stopped, as if formulating a plan. "Once I have confirmation the money has been transferred to the account, we go ahead with the exchange. Since G isn't the most trustworthy guy, I'd rather walk in and leave the car here. That way we keep our options open."

  Evan nodded, but his eyes remained on Sabrina. While her head was down, as she pretended she hadn't understood every word they said, she could see his gaze between her lashes. She didn't know quite how to interpret his look, but suspected he, like Scar Man, didn't trust her. Or maybe he was contemplating her offer. Or maybe he'd seen her relieve Scar Man of his knife and was about to go all Rambo on her.

  Instead of any of those things, he unclipped the plastic ties binding her hands while Scar Man went back inside the car, dragging Liz with him into the back seat. "Remember, I have your friend. You wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her," Scar Man called through the window.

  As if she'd forget. The terrified look on Liz's face would haunt Sabrina until she returned.

  They had walked about a block from the car when a police officer pulled alongside them on his motorbike. Even though not a big fan of police officers, Sabrina was tempted to plead her case and tell him all she knew about what was about to go down. But something about Marco's relaxed posture gave her pause.

  "What are you doing in town so early, Mr. Peterson?" the officer said in German, while the motorbike kept a steady hum between his legs.

  Marco's hand remained secure across the breadth of her bicep, but she sensed no spike to his pulse. No nervous hitch to his breathing. He was confident he had control of the situation.

  Sabrina got the impression Marco was well known in this town. And judging by the officer's deference, well respected.

  That eliminated her first opt
ion. Running to the nearest police station wouldn't further her cause. It would only make Liz more vulnerable.

  "Business," Marco responded without hesitation, a broad smile upon his face.

  "Bankers must keep odd hours, like police officers."

  "If you want to stay ahead, you've got to do what you've got to do." Marco chuckled as he drew Sabrina closer to his side.

  Could the whole town be part of this? Probably not. So were they stupid, naïve, or saw what Marco wanted them to see? Sabrina bet on the last.

  Which meant Marco was good at covering his tracks. This whole organization was no doubt cloaked in respectability from the top down. The strategist in her couldn't help but wonder how it was structured. Did different operatives work different areas of the continent?

  In order for this organization to be so successful, they had to fly under the radar and be the last people anyone might suspect. And he was only a cog in a giant wheel of this operation. She couldn't imagine the level of respectability the man in charge might hide behind if Marco was any indication. She had to wonder about G as well. Was this whole network a group of well-connected, respected individuals that no one would suspect of wrongdoing, let alone dealing in the flesh trade?

  From the start, she'd naively assumed the men involved would be representatives of the seedy underbelly. Disgusting-looking people doing disgusting things. She could pick them out in a crowd by the way they looked, the people they hung with.

  But, like most things, that hadn't been the case. They looked like normal, everyday folks, but underneath they dealt in scum. They lived in chateaux and chalets, probably a castle or two, but had a dark side nobody knew about.

  Which only meant they would be even harder to find. No doubt there was a protective wall and a sterling reputation a mile wide around the man at the top. When a person had a lot to lose, they did everything they could to ensure their dirty little dealings stayed underground.

  "I'll let you and your date be on your way. Don't work too hard." Without another word, the officer revved up his motorbike and sped off.