Beverly Barton - Paladin's Woman

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. His attacker was driving a dark blue Buick. Rusty got a glimpse of the license plate. He remembered the first four digits. We're running a check now, but don't get your hopes up. You know as well as I do the car was probably stolen."

"Can you give me a few minutes alone with Rusty?" Nick asked.

"Sure thing."

As it turned out, Nick didn't get more than three minutes alone with Addy's father after explaining to him what had happened at the hospital. The telephone rang, stunning everyone into silence.

Ned Johnson motioned an angry and outraged Rusty McConnell toward the phone. "This could he our boy calling."

Clinching the receiver so tightly that his knuckles whitened, Rusty answered, "D.B. McConnell."

"You had your chance, McConnell." The muffled voice held an edge of sadistic pleasure. "All you had to do was not bid on the NASP contract and Addy would have been safe."

"Who the hell is this? If you've done anything to harm my daughter, I'll—"

"You'll what?" The man laughed. "You should have followed instructions."

"I can still cancel the bid," Rusty said. "Is that what you want?"

"It's too late, much too late for Addy."

"No, no it isn't. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Just don't hurt Addy."

"She won't be in any pain. It's going to happen so quickly, she won't feel a thing. One big boom and she'll be joining her illustrious Delacourt ancestors. Of course, you won't find enough of her to bury in the old family cemetery."

The line went dead. Rusty cursed loudly, using a string of profanities that would have put the foulest-mouthed hoodlum to shame.

Ned Johnson and Nick jumped on Rusty the minute he replaced the receiver, asking him question after question. Rusty went over the conversation again and again.

Nick knew there had to be a clue in the kidnapper's words, if only he could figure out what it was. As minutes ticked by, slowly but surely counting down the last moments of Addy's life, Nick kept making Rusty repeat every word the caller had said. Finally, Rusty broke under the pressure, turning on Nick. Rusty's big, hard fist made contact with Nick's jaw, knocking the younger man to the floor. Nick decided right then and there that he was glad he hadn't been on the receiving end of Rusty McConnell's wrath when the old man had been a little younger and in his prime.

Dina, who entered the room just as Nick picked himself up off the floor, ran to her fiancé, encircling his thick waist with her slender arms. "You can't go on this way, Rusty, darling! You must get some rest."

"How the hell can I rest when some lunatic has my daughter and is planning to … blow … her … up." Forceful, manly tears streamed down Rusty's ruddy cheeks and rocked his robust frame. He clung to Dina, who cooed soothing words to him as she stroked his back.

Once again Nick went over the kidnapper's messages, praying that something would click in his mind. It's too late for Addy. She won't be in any pain. One big boom and she'll be joining her illustrious Delacourt ancestors. You won't find enough of her to bury in the old family cemetery.

Nick paced the floor, ruffling his already mussed hair with restless fingers. Again, Romero, again. One big boom. Delacourt ancestors. Old family cemetery.

Wherever the kidnapper had taken Addy, he'd planted a bomb. But where had he taken her? And how long before the bomb exploded?

Delacourt ancestors. Old family cemetery. Elm Hill! God, it was a long shot, but what if Addy's kidnapper knew about her mother's ancestral home? Addy had told him that no one had lived there since she and her father had moved out twenty-five years ago.

Nick found Rusty and Dina sitting together on the living-room sofa. Rusty gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. Addy's father looked every day of his seventy years.

"Where's Elm Hill?" Nick asked. "How do I get there?"

"Elm Hill?" Rusty sat up straight, his tired expression growing alert. "You think he took her to Elm Hill?"

"It's possible. He mentioned her Delacourt ancestors and the old family cemetery."

"The cemetery is on the estate." Rusty jumped up. "I'll go with you and show you the way."

"No," Nick said. "I'm playing a hunch. Addy could be anywhere. You need to stay here by the phone in case the kidnapper tries to get in touch with you again."

"Then take one of Johnson's boys with you."

"If the kidnapper is still there with her when I arrive, I don't want to scare him off. I'll have to go in alone."

Rusty pulled Nick into his bear-like hug, stunning Nick with his affection. "You save our girl."

Nick couldn't reply. He hoped Addy's father knew that he'd do anything for Addy, even die if it was necessary.

Rusty gave Nick instructions on the quickest route out of Huntsville to Elm Hill. Dina, Rusty and Ned Johnson followed Nick outside to his silver Jag.

"Keep in touch by car phone," Johnson said. "I don't like you going out there alone. Anything could happen."

"If I'm wrong about Elm Hill, it won't matter." Nick got behind the wheel, revved the motor and drove down the driveway.

He wasn't a very religious man. Hell, he hadn't been inside a church since his grandmother used to drag him off to Sunday mass. But he sought out God's ear, hoping that The Man Upstairs was listening. He needed a big favor, and he was willing to make any kind of deal necessary. Could he make a deal with God? If he could, he'd promise Him anything in exchange for Addy's life.

Chapter 13

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He had stripped Addy down to her black teddy. For a while she'd been afraid he was going to rape her. He had touched her intimately and called her sweet Addy.

Why had she never seen this side of him? Obviously he was a very sick man—a man so obsessed with her father's money that he had already killed two men and was plotting two more murders.

She didn't know how long she'd been alone in the front parlor at Elm Hill. It could have been hours since he'd left. She didn't know.

Straining to see the digital timer attached to the heavy canvas belt he had strapped around her waist, Addy toppled over. Biting down, clamping her teeth to keep from crying, she tumbled around on the dusty floor until she righted herself again, sitting up on her knees. The rope that tied her hands behind her was attached to her ankles.

Even though he had been on Nick's list of suspects, she had never once actually considered him. How could she have been so blind? She and her father had opened their home to him, had accepted him as a part of the family because he was Dina's stepson.

Alone and frightened, Addy went over in her mind everything that happened since Brett Windsor had driven her to Elm Hill.

He had forced her inside the house at gunpoint, made her remove her clothes, and then had run his hands over her with rough, sadistic, sexual pleasure. Closing her eyes, she shut out the dawn light that crept through the tall, bare windows. She couldn't stop herself from reliving those terrifying moments she'd spent with Brett before he'd left her alone to die.

Outside a night owl hooted and a thousand katydids sang in unison.

Brett forced her to her knees, almost knocking her over in his attempt to subdue her. With unnatural strength, he jerked her hands behind her back, binding them securely with nylon cord, then draping the rope over her ankles, effectively hog-tying her.

"Don't do this, Brett." She wasn't too proud to beg; the threat of dying had quickly put her priorities in the proper order.

"Oh, sweet Addy, I had hoped we'd have more time together. I was so looking forward to making love to you." Brett traced the lines of her face with his fingertips. "But that was before Nick Romero had you. I don't want his leavings. Not a second time."