through the opening, unlocked the window and raised it high enough to allow him enough space to slip inside the house.
As he had assumed beforehand, he now found himself inside a small bathroom, well lit with a decorative hot pink glitter nightlight. How lucky for him that he had, no doubt, entered through her bathroom window. Not having to search the entire upstairs to find her simplified his job enormously. The bathroom door stood wide open. With practiced stealth movements, he entered the bedroom silently, not making a sound. Another nightlight identical to the one in the bathroom cast a pink glow across the carpeted floor and moonlight streaming through the sheer striped curtains illuminated the wicker bed in which she slept.
He reached into his pocket, removed a small vial and a linen handkerchief and then opened the vial and soaked the linen with its contents as he crept closer and closer to the bed. She lay there in all her beautiful blond innocence, never knowing the part she would play in a madman’s diabolical scheme. But this specific madman paid extremely well. And it wasn’t his place to judge the people who employed him to do their dirty work.
He leaned down, placed the ether-soaked handkerchief over her nose and mouth and positioned his other hand in the center of her chest to hold her in place if she woke. Her eyes flew open. She stared up at him for a few moments and then closed her eyes as the anesthetic took affect. He reached inside the inner pocket of his snug- fitting jacket, removed an envelope and laid it beside her pillow. Without hesitation, he flung back the covers, lifted her up and into his arms and retraced his steps through the bathroom. He eased her through the window, placing her solidly on the roof before he climbed out and joined her. The moonlight struck the tiny pink sequins outlining the ruffles on the hem of her gown.
After checking below on the ground, he hoisted her up and positioned her beneath his arm, clamping her securely between the inner curve of his elbow and his ribcage. Mindful that one wrong move could result in him dropping her to the ground, he grasped the nylon rope and descended with careful precision. Once on the ground, he lifted her up and across his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes, and then ran up the alley toward the car he had parked there less than twenty minutes ago.
A private jet would be waiting for them in Nashville. In two and a half hours, he and his employer’s special guest would board the jet and be ready for take off to London by daybreak.
Chapter 30
Meredith glared at Luke across the breakfast table. Despite having kept her up until the wee hours of the morning, he had knocked on her bedroom door at precisely seven-thirty and informed her that room service had just delivered their breakfast.
“I ordered the full English fry-up,” he had told her. “Eggs, bacon, sausages. Plenty of protein, along with baked beans, mushrooms, and fried bread. I expect you out here and ready to eat in ten minutes.”
Knowing that if she didn’t join him for breakfast within a reasonable time, he would come in and get her, she had grabbed a quick shower, washed her hair, and slipped into a pair of ratty sweat pants and a soft cotton T-shirt. Leaving the towel wrapped around her damp hair, she had arrived at the table less than ten minutes after he had summoned her.
“Eat hearty,” he said. “We have a lot to do. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, you’ll be working on all cylinders this morning.”
He had been referring to the fact that last night when he had placed what Luke had told her had been a set of cuff links owned by Anthony Linden in her hands, she had drawn a blank. It was if no one had ever handled the cuff links, other than Luke. After more than an hour of useless efforts to use the links as a conduit to previous wearers, Luke had told her to go to bed.
Now, as he sipped on his breakfast tea, she watched him until he set down his cup and looked at her. “What?” he asked.
“I’ve eaten all that I can. I’m fueled and ready to perform, hopefully on all cylinders,” she told him. “But if all you have for me to use is those cuff links, then forget it. For some reason, all I picked up when I handled them were some vague faces of various people. One I believe actually made the gold links and another was the jewelry store salesman. And you. I saw you tossing the cuffs back and forth in your hands.”
Luke’s lips twitched as if he were about to smile. He didn’t. “The cuff links never belonged to Anthony Linden. I purchased them new yesterday.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you—? Damn you! You were testing me. Was that your idea or were you instructed to—?”
“Testing you with the cuff links was entirely my own idea.”
“Why?”
“Because although I’ve seen you in action a few times, I find it difficult to believe in what you and Dr. Meng and her other proteges do.”
Without giving any thought to what she was doing, Meredith shoved back her chair, stood, picked up a piece of the soft fried bread on her plate and flung it at Luke. It hit him mid-chest, the grease staining his navy blue polo shirt.
“What the hell,” he grumbled.
“Don’t you ever do something like that to me again.” She planted her hands on her hips.
“Go get dressed,” he told her. “I’ll change my shirt and then I’ll bring you something that actually belonged to Anthony Linden.”
“Are we going out somewhere today?” she asked.
“Probably not.”
“Then I’m dressed for the day,” she informed him. “I’ll go dry my hair and be right back.”
Luke shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
After slamming her bedroom door, Meredith debated whether or not to change clothes. She had brought along a pair of jeans, dress slacks, and several nice blouses. But fifteen minutes later, with her hair dry and pulled back in a loose ponytail, she stormed back into the living room wearing the same sweat pants and T-shirt.
The table had been cleared, with only a fresh pot of tea now in the middle of a tray that held two clean cups. Luke sat on the sofa in his khaki slacks and a navy and red striped button-down shirt, the short sleeves revealing his muscular arms.
“Sit down here beside me,” he ordered her.
She sat, obeying without question, although reluctantly and with great reservation. He glanced at the round coffee table in front of the sofa. There beside a clear glass vase filled with white lilies lay a rectangularshaped box.
“Open it,” Luke said.
She did. Inside, she found a handgun.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s a SIG Sauer—”
“No, I don’t care what make and model the weapon is,” she told him. “I hate firearms of any kind. If this is another one of your tests—”
“It’s not a test. That pistol is supposed to have belonged to Anthony Linden and has never been owned or used by anyone else.”
When she simply stared at the gun for several minutes, Luke apparently grew aggravated with her. He removed the pistol from the box and held it out to her. “It isn’t loaded.”
“I should hope not.” She opened her palm and held out her hand.
The very instant he placed the gun in her hand and the cold metal touched her skin, she cried out.
“What’s wrong?”
She heard Luke’s question, but despite the fact that he was sitting right beside her, he sounded as if he were in another room. As people’s faces flashed through her mind like images from a television screen, moving at top speed, she sensed that all those people were dead. Three men, two women, and a child. When she closed her eyes, she saw only black emptiness and felt an odd rush of adrenaline soar through her body. And then the rapid fire of a pistol echoed inside her head.
