can’t fix everything, Derek.” Her face flushed. “So don’t even try.”
Damn it, Derek wished her words didn’t sting as much as they did. Worse, she was right. He couldn’t fix everything. If he could, they would have been married. That girl would have ended up on a playground rather than the morgue, and he wouldn’t still be carrying around three slugs in his chest.
Jill turned back to the window, tucking her hair behind her ear.
He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better. But he was the one who had screwed up. Again. He was pretty sure Jill was tired of him telling her how sorry he was.
“Wait for me!” Mitchell yelled as he rushed down the station steps toward the limo.
Jill turned back, seeming more composed. “You are that sure he didn’t kill Elmore?”
“Yep.”
“But I still don’t get why we are taking him with us.”
Derek watched Mitchell bound toward them. Letting him change clothes and take a leak had brought back some of the kid’s youthful exuberance.
“Mitchell doesn’t do me a whole lot of good sitting in there.”
“I still don’t understand.”
He turned to Jill.
“What I do need is some bait .”
* * *
“Damn it, Howie,” Amanda cursed at the voice mail. “The premiere is in six hours. The Secret Service is already securing the theater.”
She ended the call as she stalked toward the door of the vault. She had been trying to reach Howie for over an hour. That was the tenth message she’d left. He had better have the reels, along with some caviar and one of the men from Thunder Down Under to sate her wrath.
If he failed? Well, unemployment would be too kind a fate.
Amanda pulled open the vault door and frowned. The room was dark. She stepped in and flicked on the light.
“Howie?”
The stench of iron and rotten garbage rose from deep within the vault. She tucked her finger under her nose.
“What’s that smell?”
Probably a dead rat. She’d complained to maintenance about scratching in the walls earlier in the week. Thank God she didn’t hear it while she was in her client meeting. Nothing ruined a deal like rats running up the walls. Amanda quickened her pace, checking each aisle. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand the smell. Amanda stopped at the last aisle.
What the hell was that? She stepped closer. A dark puddle spread across the floor. The reels to Terror in the Trees sat in the middle of it.
She was going to kill—like butcher, then put his body through a wood chipper kind of kill—Howie when she saw him. If that film was ruined ...
She heard a sound behind her as the lights flickered.
“Howie?”
Okay, she needed to get the hell out of there. There were no windows. The shelves nearly touched the ceiling. It was like being in a tomb. Buried alive.
Careful to not step in the puddle, she crouched down, reaching for the reels, but they were too far away. She looked around for something to grab them with. In the corner was a pole to change light bulbs. Quickly, she used the device to pull the reels toward her. A red streak smeared across the floor. Amanda snatched the reels up. Her hands felt sticky. She flipped them over.
Blood.
Amanda wrinkled her nose. Where did all of that come from? And where in the hell was Howie? She held the reels out in front of her as she turned toward the end of the aisle.
“Aman...da! Help!”
Amanda spun around. Blood dripped off the reels onto her Manolos.
“Howie?” Amanda held her breath, listening, but when no answer came, she got angry again. “If you’re down here, quit screwing around.”
The puddle on the floor shifted. A large bubble formed on the surface. It grew larger and larger until it popped, releasing an agonized scream.
Amanda shrieked as she spun on her heel, clutching the reels to her chest.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 9
Derek watched as Mitchell bounced from seat to seat in the limo, munching on a bag of chips and
Damn it, Derek wished her words didn’t sting as much as they did. Worse, she was right. He couldn’t fix everything. If he could, they would have been married. That girl would have ended up on a playground rather than the morgue, and he wouldn’t still be carrying around three slugs in his chest.
Jill turned back to the window, tucking her hair behind her ear.
He wanted to say something, anything, to make it better. But he was the one who had screwed up. Again. He was pretty sure Jill was tired of him telling her how sorry he was.
“Wait for me!” Mitchell yelled as he rushed down the station steps toward the limo.
Jill turned back, seeming more composed. “You are that sure he didn’t kill Elmore?”
“Yep.”
“But I still don’t get why we are taking him with us.”
Derek watched Mitchell bound toward them. Letting him change clothes and take a leak had brought back some of the kid’s youthful exuberance.
“Mitchell doesn’t do me a whole lot of good sitting in there.”
“I still don’t understand.”
He turned to Jill.
“What I do need is some bait .”
* * *
“Damn it, Howie,” Amanda cursed at the voice mail. “The premiere is in six hours. The Secret Service is already securing the theater.”
She ended the call as she stalked toward the door of the vault. She had been trying to reach Howie for over an hour. That was the tenth message she’d left. He had better have the reels, along with some caviar and one of the men from Thunder Down Under to sate her wrath.
If he failed? Well, unemployment would be too kind a fate.
Amanda pulled open the vault door and frowned. The room was dark. She stepped in and flicked on the light.
“Howie?”
The stench of iron and rotten garbage rose from deep within the vault. She tucked her finger under her nose.
“What’s that smell?”
Probably a dead rat. She’d complained to maintenance about scratching in the walls earlier in the week. Thank God she didn’t hear it while she was in her client meeting. Nothing ruined a deal like rats running up the walls. Amanda quickened her pace, checking each aisle. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand the smell. Amanda stopped at the last aisle.
What the hell was that? She stepped closer. A dark puddle spread across the floor. The reels to Terror in the Trees sat in the middle of it.
She was going to kill—like butcher, then put his body through a wood chipper kind of kill—Howie when she saw him. If that film was ruined ...
She heard a sound behind her as the lights flickered.
“Howie?”
Okay, she needed to get the hell out of there. There were no windows. The shelves nearly touched the ceiling. It was like being in a tomb. Buried alive.
Careful to not step in the puddle, she crouched down, reaching for the reels, but they were too far away. She looked around for something to grab them with. In the corner was a pole to change light bulbs. Quickly, she used the device to pull the reels toward her. A red streak smeared across the floor. Amanda snatched the reels up. Her hands felt sticky. She flipped them over.
Blood.
Amanda wrinkled her nose. Where did all of that come from? And where in the hell was Howie? She held the reels out in front of her as she turned toward the end of the aisle.
“Aman...da! Help!”
Amanda spun around. Blood dripped off the reels onto her Manolos.
“Howie?” Amanda held her breath, listening, but when no answer came, she got angry again. “If you’re down here, quit screwing around.”
The puddle on the floor shifted. A large bubble formed on the surface. It grew larger and larger until it popped, releasing an agonized scream.
Amanda shrieked as she spun on her heel, clutching the reels to her chest.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 9
Derek watched as Mitchell bounced from seat to seat in the limo, munching on a bag of chips and
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