counter and kept the refrigerator door open, peering inside as he drank, hoping the contents would change.
They didn’t. The one thing he still missed about having Cheryl around was that she’d taken care of the grocery shopping. It looked like it’d be peanut butter again tonight.
He let the fridge swing shut with the intent of trying the cupboard when he heard a small sound. Instinct had him going for his weapon as he turned. He stopped in midmotion when he found a Sig P220 equipped with silencer shoved in his face.
“Jesus.” In a split second, he evaluated his chances of completing the draw. Found them dismal.
“You think you’re that fast? Want to see?”
The whispered voice was vaguely familiar. But the oversized hooded sweatshirt the guy was wearing shadowed his face. “What the fuck do you want?” But, God, he knew what the cocksucker wanted. His body knew anyway. His knees felt like Jell-O and his heart was pounding hard enough to tear through his chest. Sweat slicked his brow.
“Turn around.”
Slowly, mind racing, he did as he was told.
“Hands behind your head.”
His arms rose slowly. He wasn’t going like the others. Knowing what was in store for him made the decision easy. He’d take his chances with the gun. Hell, he might take a bullet but he could still get a shot off.
And he’d rather go down in gunfire than be torched like the rest of the guys.
He felt the Sig pressed against his spine. Half expected a bullet to shatter it as he went for his weapon, turning at the same time. He hadn’t completed the turn when something was shoved in his face. A nauseatingly sweet, pungent smell filled his nostrils. As he dropped to his knees, his weapon clattered out of his hand.
The first thought that made it through his groggy brain was that he had a helluva headache for not stopping at the bar tonight.
Then comprehension rushed in. His bowels went to ice water. He was in a cellar. At least the stone all around him seemed like one. But there was a mess of stars overhead. A slivered moon. It was probably no more than a crumbling foundation somewhere. Outside the city maybe.
Far from help.
Fear unlike any he’d ever known had Randolph lunging forward. Chains jangled. His hands were fastened above his head and secured to a spot in the stone behind him. And the smell that filled the air was terrifying.
Gasoline.
Panic did a fast sprint up his spine. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything you want.”
Except the words came out muffled. He shook his head, trying to dislodge whatever was surrounding his face.
“That’s a smoke mask, Jack.” The tone was conversational. “Hate to go to all this trouble and have you succumb to smoke inhalation too quickly. Seems rude not to stay alive long enough to appreciate all I’ve done here. How tough are you? Let’s find out, shall we?”
A match scratched and flared in the darkness. Illuminated the face of the last man he expected to see here. Shocked disbelief filled him. “You? But why?”
“That’s right.” The match was tossed in a slow descent toward his feet. “It’s me. And we’ll have a lot of time to talk about why.”
Frantically Randolph stomped out the match that landed near his foot. And the next one. Then the one after it. Soft laughter sounded. The entire matchbook was lit and made a slow arc toward his feet. He tried to stomp it, too, but the hem of his pants flared. “No!”
He tried to rub his other leg over the flame, only to watch aghast as the other pant leg caught fire, too. The first scorch seared his flesh. “Oh, God, please!”
“I didn’t realize you were a praying man, Jack. I guess there’s lots we don’t know about each other. When the fire really gets going, I’m going to have to crawl up and out of here and watch from above. So first let me fill you in on a few of those details about me.”
“Next time, I’m picking the movie.” Risa yawned and watched without enthusiasm as Nate got up to put in yet another security tape they’d collected. “Yours don’t seem to have a plot.”
It was past one. They’d moved to the conference room where the briefings were held because the TV, VCR, and DVD player were already set up there. Both of them had long since gotten comfortable. They’d shed their jackets and Nate was minus his tie. Her feet were propped