air, so he focused on breathing deep. Slow. One, two, three.
He couldn’t afford another heart attack over this. Not after he’d finally changed his diet and started exercising. He’d lost twenty fucking pounds from his beefy frame as a result, but weight loss hadn’t been his goal. Staying alive was. He’d worked too long and hard to throw it all away now.
When he was sure his voice was calm, he said, “Explain to me how you lost her in a limousine, in downtown New York City. She’s one woman in a car the size of a goddamned boat!”
So much for calm. He took another deep breath.
“There was a…rush after the auction. We lost her in traffic. But we know where she is.”
He was dealing with imbeciles. Didn’t matter their affiliation or who they took their orders from. They were imbeciles just the same.
He rubbed a hand over his balding head in utter frustration. “You’ve mentioned that already. If that’s the case why are you jabbering to me about it instead of going after her?”
“A nor’easter moved through the region. Roads are closed and power’s out over a large chunk of the area. She’s hunkered down to wait out the storm, but we’ve got her. We’ll have her and the boyfriend within twenty-four hours.”
The boyfriend.
Omar stared out at the city he’d grown up in, but hated with every fiber of his being. Keeping tabs on Peter Kauffman had finally paid off, just like he’d predicted. Did the man know she’d been in hiding all this time? Or had he been in on it with her right from start? Anything was possible, but one thing was certain. Keeping the antiquities dealer alive in the hopes that one day he’d serve as bait had been a stroke of sheer genius.
A wicked smile spread across his face.
Twenty-four hours. One day, and then he’d be free.
Once Katherine Meyer was safely back in Egypt, he could dispose of her as he’d fantasized for six long years.
The only question left was who would do it. Should he let Minyawi have his way with her first? Or would he do the deed himself?
A thousand different scenarios ran through his mind. And all sent his adrenaline surging.
Northern Pennsylvania
The bitter cold woke him.
A shiver ran through Pete, rousing him from sleep. He blinked, opened his eyes and peered into utter darkness. For a moment he didn’t know which way was up. Then he registered the frigid leather beneath his cheek and the dead weight of his arm pinned beneath his body.
He pushed up slowly and immediately regretted the movement. The dull throb he’d felt behind his eyes when he’d been lying down kicked up to the roar of a Dolphins game when he moved upright, and he closed his eyes again. He rubbed frozen fingers against his temples to abate the pounding in his skull and cringed as pain sliced through his skin.
What the…
He pulled his hand back, tried to squint to see what the wetness was on his fingers. It felt sticky and cold. Blood?
Okay, drinking himself into oblivion had been a really dumb idea, although he couldn’t remember drinking anything after dropping Maria off at her apartment. He must have fallen somehow and hit his head. Regardless, a thirty-eight-year-old man should know better.
When he felt certain he wasn’t going to black out, he opened his eyes and quickly realized something else wasn’t right.
He was still in the limo. He could feel the cold Italian leather cradling his body, the hard floor at his feet. Around him was a blanket of some kind. He reached a hand out to test his surroundings and met vinyl and wood surrounding the wet bar.
He paused and listened, tried to figure out what was going on. The limo wasn’t moving, the engine wasn’t on, and there were no voices or even sounds for that matter.
Where was he? In an underground garage? If so, then where was the driver? Why had he been left in here all alone? And who had put this blanket on him?
His adrenaline shot up, and he moved closer to the window, cupped a hand against the glass and peered outside. Nothing. A black void met his eyes.
Slowly, and with cautious movements because his stomach was rebelling with every shift, he moved to the other side of the vehicle and did the same. Through the tinted glass, he could just make out what looked like a dim light coming from a distance away. A door? It looked like it, cracked