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Avnery glanced down at the street. “Ah-ha. Your lovely wife appears to have grown bored with the gallery as well.”
Spencer’s attention rocketed to the gallery across the street. Willow stood in the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window staring up at this building… it felt almost as if she were looking directly at him.
“I am confident she won’t be bored for long.”
A long white limousine lurched to a stop in front of the gallery.
Spencer went for his weapon.
“Don’t move, Mr. Anders. I would most assuredly dislike having to kill you here. I’m certain the carpet would be ruined and my friend Avnery would be upset with me.”
Spencer turned slowly to face the imposter. The silenced end of a.9mm Ruger was aimed directly at his chest. His fingers itched to go for his own weapon.
“I am quite the excellent shot. You might want to consider that before you make a move for your weapon.”
Spencer raised his hands in the air. “I’ll take your word for that, Avnery.”
The other man smirked. “I’m certain you know my name is not Avnery, but that is most irrelevant. Let’s move to the elevator, Mr. Anders. Your next appointment will be your last, I’m afraid, but it is a command performance.”
“Then let’s not keep the man waiting.” Spencer executed an about-face, giving his back to the man with the gun. That was, clearly, his only choice. And maybe if he kept him off guard he wouldn’t remember to check to see if Spencer was armed.
“One moment, Mr. Anders.”
No such luck. Spencer stopped.
Oh, well, that left him with only one option.
Avnery or whoever the hell he was patted his left side first since it was his left hand that was free. It was in the pivotal instant when he switched his weapon from his right hand to his left that Spencer made his move.
He twisted one-eighty, slammed against the man’s right shoulder with his full body weight.
The silencer hissed. A pop followed.
Spencer shoved the man’s left arm upward as they went down together.
They hit the floor.
Another hiss and pop.
Spencer had a good thirty pounds and six inches of height on the guy, but the other man was strong. Enough with this.
Spencer drew back and jammed the heel of his right hand beneath the guy’s chin. His head snapped upward. A final hiss and pop erupted from the weapon clenched in his hand. A violent twist of his head and the fight was over.
Spencer scrambled to his feet and ran for the stairwell.
He buttoned his jacket on the way down. Ran a hand through his hair to ensure he didn’t look as if he’d just been in a fight. No need to tip off the clerk any sooner than necessary.
At the door to the lobby, he paused long enough to catch his breath. He opened the door a crack and scanned the area.
Two men hustled through the front entrance and spoke in Arabic to the man behind the desk. Spencer didn’t catch everything that was said, but he got that they were looking for him.
If those men were from the limo, he had to assume that the vehicle was still out there and that meant Willow would still be close by as well.
When the two men headed for the elevator, Spencer opened the door a little wider to watch them board.
The elevator doors glided closed. He counted to three and exited the stairwell.
Barely suppressing the need to break into a run, he strode across the lobby.
“Mr. Anders!”
Spencer ignored the clerk.
He didn’t have to look back to know the man would attempt to contact the men headed to the third floor.
They’d have to catch him if they wanted him.
He burst out onto the sidewalk.
Two things were immediately clear: the limo was still parked in front of the gallery and Willow was no longer standing at the shop window.
He ignored the blaring horns as he dashed across the street.
The limo windows were too dark to see inside, but the driver’s seat beyond the windshield was empty.
That meant that any other occupants besides the ones who’d gone after him were likely inside the gallery.
Withdrawing the Beretta, he burst through the shop door. It wasn’t like they couldn’t see him coming. But he couldn’t not go in… Willow was in there.
Other than the whoosh of the door closing behind him the shop appeared dead silent.
No signs of a struggle.
No milling customers.
Nothing.
He moved deeper into the gallery, around sculptures, beyond complicated displays of smaller pieces of artwork comprised of various mediums.
As he moved past the counter, a muzzle rammed into the back of his head.
“Mr. Anders.”
Spencer froze. He analyzed the voice. Male. Western… almost.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Three more men stepped out of the shadows of the farthest recesses of the gallery, weapons trained on one target… Spencer.
The man who’d spoken moved in closer behind Spencer. “Before you die,” he said, his words uttered softly now as if he were speaking for Spencer’s ears only, “I have only one question.”
He jammed the barrel of his weapon harder into Spencer’s skull. “Where is my wife?”
Chapter Nine
He’d found them.
Willow’s heart sank a little more as she watched Khaled and his men force Spencer Anders into the waiting limousine. Someone from the airport or the hotel had to have tipped him off, had to have been monitoring Anders’s calls from the hotel.
The vehicle pulled away from the curb. Two black cars, windows heavily tinted, moved into place, one in front of the limo, the other behind it. Her ex-husband’s security detail.
She shivered.
Her next thought made her sinking heart shudder painfully.
Spencer Anders was as good as dead. “Where would you go?”
Willow sucked in an anxious breath and wrestled her attention from the caravan disappearing in the distance to the woman speaking to her.
“Where would you go?” the woman repeated.
Three sets of eyes watched her from above dark veils, anticipating her answer. Though she didn’t know their names, nor they hers, all in the car understood what had just happened.
What did she do now? She was unarmed. It wasn’t as if she could try to stop Khaled and his men.
Jim Colby.
She needed Jim Colby.
Willow looked directly at the driver, infusing her expression with all the hope she could summon. “If you would be kind enough to take me back to my hotel, I would appreciate it.” Willow gave the name of the hotel where she and Anders had spent the night. Her things were there and the telephone in the room would allow her to call the United States.
The woman behind the wheel, the one who appeared to be the leader of the group, nodded and turned her attention forward. The others watched in silence as their friend merged into the growing traffic.
Willow understood what they were all thinking. Her presence in this car could get them arrested… or worse.
The woman driving, the most outspoken of the group and the one who’d taken charge at that pivotal moment, had more than likely saved Willow’s life.
She blinked back the tears that burned in her eyes.
When she’d realized who the man pretending to be a real-estate agent actually was, she’d rushed to the front of the shop. She’d seen Khaled’s limo coming… she had known he was coming for her.
Since the shop owner had been preoccupied with a customer, Willow had gone for her only option: the rear entrance of the gallery.
The three women she’d noticed entering the shop a few minutes earlier had watched her flight. One of the women, the one driving now, had followed Willow outside and offered her assistance.
For the first five or so seconds Willow hadn’t been sure what she should do. She’d almost been afraid to trust these strangers. But desperation had driven her. Anders would die and the hope of ever seeing her son again was fading fast.
She’d had no choice.
Moving as quickly as they dared without drawing unnecessary attention, the women had led her down the back alley for a considerable distance. Then they had slipped between two buildings and moved back to the street well beyond where the limo and its entourage were parked. Surrounding her in a wall of black, the women ushered Willow to the car. They’d stayed out of view there until Khaled and his men had driven away.
Willow couldn’t be sure why these women had decided to help her, but she was immensely grateful.
Keeping low in the backseat, she couldn’t help turning to look from time to time to ensure they weren’t being followed.
“No one is following,” the driver said, evidently noting Willow’s furtive glances out the rear window.
Willow told herself to relax. She wouldn’t be able to think rationally if she didn’t calm down.
Slow, deep breaths.
Jim Colby would know what to do.
But could he do anything in time to save Anders?
Willow’s chest tightened.
Probably not.
This was her fault. Her desperation was already responsible for one missing investigator. She should have stopped when Davenport had warned her of his suspicions about his missing investigator.
But her heart just wouldn’t allow her to let go of the hope that she would get her baby back.
The name of the street they had just passed snapped Willow back to the present. Wait. This wasn’t right. The driver had missed the turn for the hotel.
A new rush of worry ascended upon her.
What if these women weren’t helping her… what if they were taking her to her ex-husband’s home? There were rewards for people who showed extraordinary respect for the rich and powerful.
Stop.
Don’t jump to conclusions right away. There could be a logical reason for choosing a different route than the one Willow knew. Right now she had every reason to believe these women were helping her. With that in mind she waited until they reached the next intersection to see if the driver was simply taking a different route.
Definitely not.
“We’ve passed the hotel,” she said aloud, trying hard not to sound accusatory or nervous.
“The authorities may be looking for you.” The driver glanced in the rearview mirror as she said this. “You should be properly prepared.”
The woman sitting next to Willow in the backseat touched her arm. “You look like an American.”
The realization that she wore a white blouse and khaki slacks bulldozed its way into Willow’s awareness.
The women were right.
She would be easy to spot dressed like this. The man posing as the real-estate agent and the clerk at the desk of the building they had visited had probably given descriptions of her attire. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Willow placed her hand on that of the woman next to her. “Thank you.” She met the driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror then. “I don’t know why you’re taking this risk, but I’m sincerely grateful.”
