The Revenge Collection 2018. Кейт Хьюит
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undeniably angry.
Knowing he was taking a huge risk but unable to rid himself of the sound of the scream ringing in his ears, Gabriele pressed himself against the outside wall of the window nearest the front door, took a breath, and turned to look inside.
The main reception room was empty.
He pushed the door open a few more inches.
The muffled argument continued.
He crossed the threshold. The instant his neoprene dive slipper trod onto the hard lacquered wood flooring, a squeak rang out.
Swearing under his breath, Gabriele tried another step, placing his whole foot down in one tread. This time there was no squeak.
He took stock of his surroundings. The reception room had three doors. Only one, directly opposite him, was open.
He crossed cautiously, wishing there were at least a life-size statue to hide behind if needed. Reaching the door, he peered through it, taking in the wide cantilevered stairs to his right and craning his ears to the left in an attempt to determine what the men were arguing about. If it was a simple heist-gone-wrong scenario he would return to his plan and get the hell off this island.
But that scream...
It had definitely sounded feminine.
The arguing voices were all male. He still couldn’t decipher what they were arguing about. He needed to get closer.
Before he could take another step, heavy footsteps treaded down the stairs. A huge figure dressed entirely in black strode past the door Gabriele was hiding behind and joined the others. He must have opened the door widely because now everything they said echoed off the great walls.
‘The little cow bit me,’ he said in an English accent, sounding incredulous.
‘You didn’t hurt her?’ said another voice, this one American.
‘Not as much as I’m going to when we get her out of here.’
‘She’s not going anywhere. We’re leaving her here,’ said the other voice sharply.
‘She’s seen my face.’
Much swearing ensued before the first man cut through the noise. ‘I would still take her even if she couldn’t identify me—whoever she is, she’s got to be worth something and I want a slice of it.’
All the men started speaking at once, making it impossible to distinguish their words but the gist of it was clear enough. Upstairs was a woman, probably bound, and these men were arguing over what to do with her.
Suddenly the original man came storming back out, yelling over his shoulder, ‘You pansies can debate it all you want. That bitch is mine and she’s coming with us.’
The door was slammed shut behind him and the man hurried back up the stairs, taking a right turn at the top.
This was Gabriele’s chance.
Not pausing to consider his options, he strode to the stairs then climbed them three at a time.
Half a dozen doors lined the hallway he found himself in but only one of them was open.
He peered cautiously inside.
The man stood in the middle of a pale blue bedroom, his back to him. Before him, her hands tied at the wrists to a headboard, her mouth gagged, her knees raised tightly to her chest, was a woman with terror-filled eyes.
Not giving the man time to respond, Gabriele stepped behind him and struck him in the neck, aiming for the spot that would bring instant unconsciousness. He aimed correctly. The man collapsed immediately, Gabriele only just catching him at the waist before he could fall in a thump to the floor and alert the men waiting below.
Laying him down carefully, he checked his pulse.
Satisfied he hadn’t killed him, he unzipped the waterproof pouch and pulled out his penknife.
The woman’s eyes widened further and she pulled her legs even closer to her chest, whimpers coming from behind the gag.
He crouched beside her.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said quietly, speaking in English. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She whimpered some more but managed to nod.
There was something familiar about her...
‘I need you to trust me. I am not with those men,’ he said. ‘If they hear you scream they will come up here and probably kill us both. I’m going to untie you and remove your gag and we’re going to escape but I need your word you won’t scream. Do I have your word?’
Another nod. The whimpering had stopped, the terror in her clear green eyes lessening a fraction. Now her eyes searched his, the familiarity he felt clearly reciprocated.
‘We’re going to escape,’ he repeated. He sat on the side of the bed and lifted her head, enabling him to untie the cloth that had been wrapped around her mouth. As soon as it was freed, he placed a finger to her lips. ‘We don’t have much time,’ he warned. ‘We’re going to have to escape through a window unless you know a way out that doesn’t involve going downstairs?’
She jerked her head to an interconnecting door behind her. ‘The dressing room is above a roof. We can slip out through the window in there.’ Her husky voice was croaky. He guessed the scream she’d given had damaged her vocal cords. He could only hope she hadn’t suffered damage of any other kind.
He admired the fact that through the abject terror she’d just experienced, she’d still had the foresight to plan an escape route in her head.
He thought of Paul, the captain of his yacht, who would soon be on the lookout for his return.
‘Give me one moment,’ he said, pulling his phone out of his pouch and pressing the emergency button that would connect him.
‘Paul, I need the jet ski to be brought to the north harbour immediately.’ It was one of the many contingency plans they had spent two days running through. Gabriele attempting one of these contingency plans with a woman in tow hadn’t been in any of the blueprints.
His call done with, he sliced his penknife through the ropes binding the woman and quickly pulled the lengths away from her. Dark red welts encircled her wrists where the man had cruelly tied the rope so it bit into her tender flesh.
A groan came from the floor.
Gabriele ignored the urge to throw himself on the prostrate man and kick him in the ribs. Avenging this woman might give fleeting satisfaction but they could not afford to waste a single moment.
‘Can you walk?’ he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her sit up.
The woman was tiny. With white-blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail and those large green eyes, she reminded him of a porcelain doll. Breakable.
She nodded, but allowed him to help her to her feet. He wrinkled his nose. She smelt like a...bonfire? Studying her in more depth, he revised his porcelain doll opinion and altered it to grubby urchin.
Suddenly it came to him why she looked so familiar.
He recalled a small, doll-like girl from his youth, who had dressed like a boy and been able to climb a tree faster than anyone and then shimmy back down it as if a twenty-foot drop was nothing to worry about.
This was Ignazio’s only daughter, Elena.
He was putting his life at risk for his enemy’s daughter?
This woman was his enemy every bit as much as her father was. When Gabriele brought Ignazio’s downfall he had every intention of bringing his entire family down with him.
The man on the floor’s groans were becoming louder. Elena was eying him with a look that suggested she very much wanted to kick him in the ribs too.
‘We need to