circumstances, that would add complications. One of my staff has admired you since I showed him your picture. A case of love at first sight.” He smoothed the thinning hair back from his forehead. “Barns, take her with my blessing. But do be tidy this time.”
“No!” Doug leapt up from his chair. In an instant his arms were clamped behind him and a gun was lodged against his throat. Hearing Barns’s giggle, he struggled despite them. “She’s worth more than that,” he said desperately. “Her father’d pay you a million, two million, to get her back. Don’t be a fool, Dimitri. Give her to this little creep, she’s worth nothing to you.”
“Not all of us think in terms of money, Mr. Lord,” Dimitri said calmly. “There’s a matter of principle at stake, you see. I believe as strongly in reward as I do in discipline.” His gaze flicked down to his mutilated hand. “Yes, just as strongly. Take him along, Remo, he’s creating quite a fuss.”
“Keep your hands off me.” Springing up, Whitney dashed the contents of her snifter in Barns’s face. With fury carrying her, she doubled up her fist and planted it squarely on his nose. His squeak and the squirt of blood gave her momentary satisfaction.
Doug took his cue from her and, bracing himself against the man behind him, reared back and smashed his foot under the chin of the man across from him. They might’ve been mowed down in that instant if Dimitri hadn’t signaled. He enjoyed watching the doomed struggle. Calmly he took the derringer from his inside pocket and fired into the vaulted ceiling.
“That’ll do,” he told them, as if speaking to obstreperous adolescents. He watched tolerantly as Doug gathered Whitney to his side. He was particularly fond of Shakespeare’s tragedies that dealt with star-crossed lovers— not only because of the beauty of words, but because of their hopelessness. “I’m a reasonable man, and a romantic at heart. In order to give you a bit more time together, Miss MacAllister is welcome to go along while Remo proceeds with the execution.”
“Execution,” Whitney spat at him with all the venom a desperate woman can gather. “Murder, Dimitri, doesn’t have such a clean, cool ring to it. You delude yourself into believing you’re cultured and suave. Do you think a silk dinner jacket can hide what you are, and what you’ll never be? You’re nothing more than a crow, Dimitri, a crow picking at carrion. You don’t even kill for yourself.”
“Normally, no.” His voice had frozen. Those of his men who had heard the tone before tensed. “In this case, however, perhaps I should make an exception.” He lowered the derringer.
The terrace doors burst open, shattering glass. “Put up your arms.” The order was authoritative, delivered in English with a classy French accent. Doug didn’t wait for the outcome, but shoved Whitney behind a chair. He saw Barns grab for his gun. The grin was blown off his face.
“The house is surrounded.” Ten uniformed men trooped into the library, rifles at the ready. “Franco Dimitri, you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping…”
“Holy shit,” Whitney murmured as the list lengthened. “It really is the cavalry.”
“Yeah.” Doug let out a breath of relief, holding her warm beside him. It was also the police, he reflected. He wouldn’t exactly come out smelling like a rose himself.
He saw, with a feeling of inevitability and disgust, the man with the panama walk through the doors. “I should’ve smelled cop,” he muttered. A man with a shock of white hair strode into the room with an air of impatience.
“All right, where is that girl!”
Doug saw Whitney’s eyes widen until they seemed to cover her whole face. Then with a bubbling giggle she sprang up from behind the chair. “Daddy!”
C H A P T E R
16
It didn’t take long for the Malagasy police to clear out the room. Whitney watched the handcuffs being snapped onto Dimitri’s wrist below a fat emerald cuff link.
“Whitney, Mr. Lord.” Dimitri’s voice remained soft, cultured, calm. A man in his position understood temporary setbacks. But his eyes, as his gaze passed over them, were as flat as a goat’s. “I’m sure, yes, quite sure we’ll see each other again.”
“We’ll catch you on the eleven o’clock news,” Doug told him.
“I owe you,” Dimitri acknowledged with a nod. “I always pay my debts.”
Whitney’s gaze met his briefly, and she smiled. Once again, her fingers trailed down to the shell around her neck.