“Yes.” Gary said, holding up the half-hidden phone in his palm, as if hoping to show it off.
“Get it,” the Viking ordered.
The Bug stepped forward and yanked it out of Gary’s hand in one long, swooping motion. Gary’s expression was openly baffled. He held his hands up, clearly believing the phone would be returned to him momentarily.
The Viking’s eyes cut back to Dominique. “Lie down before I punch your face.”
Dominique shot a look at Gary, who was watching the scene unfold as if it were a particularly fascinating play. His mouth was half-open. “You… you can’t hurt her, you know.” Gary sounded more confused than convincing.
“Shut up.” The Viking didn’t even bother to glance at Gary.
“Okay,” Dominique said, lowering herself on the rug. “My wallet’s upstairs. I have a little jewelry with me. It’s in my bag.”
The gunman’s voice was contemptuous as he moved toward her. “If I wanted something, I’d take it.”
“But obviously you’re here because you want—”
“Enough.” The man punctuated his words with the clink of metal as he secured her wrists. “Sorry, Dominique.”
Her head snapped up. “How do you know my name?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he raised one gloved hand, and the Bug came closer, gun trained on Dominique’s head. The Viking stood, extracting a second pair of cuffs from the back pocket of his jeans, and went to Gary. The ex-boxer just sat there like a muscle-bound dummy, staring at Dominique with a confounded expression while the man secured his wrists.
“It’s going to be okay, babe. Don’t you worry.”
“Stand,” the Viking ordered.
Gary got to his feet. The Viking looked over at his accomplice, jutting his chin in Dominique’s direction, as if to say bring her.
Dominique glanced around the room, but she didn’t see a way out. She was cuffed, Gary was bound and drugged, and both of their assailants were armed. All she could do was play along until one of them let their guard down. Her money was on the Bug. That one seemed like a little automaton who needed explicit instructions. Dominique was sure she could win in a fight. She’d always been extremely athletic—too muscular to be a truly successful model, in an era where emaciated, rail-thin girls who made Victorian maidens look tough as truck drivers were all the rage. She was a runner and a swimmer and she had a brown belt in tae kwon do. She didn’t lack for confidence, either. All the Bug had to do was trip up in some small way, and she’d squash it.
“Okay.” Dominique got up, pretending to find it difficult and stumbling a bit. “It’s hard to stand with your hands cuffed behind your back, you know.”
No one answered her. “Door,” the Viking said. It was obviously an order, backed up with a gesture he made with his gun.
“Aren’t you worried one of the neighbors will see you?” Dominique asked him.
“No.”
Cocky bastard, she thought. “In summer, no one would be able to see a thing,” she corrected him. “But it’s the end of November, and the leaves are off the trees. There are a couple of houses across the creek that can see everything.”
“Summer cottagers,” he answered. “Move.”
She walked toward the door, keeping her head turned to the side so she could watch the Bug with Gary. In spite of the gun, the Bug was timid. That certainty made Dominique’s pulse race.
“Move,” the Viking repeated, his voice almost a growl.
“Where are we going?” Dominique asked. “What’s the plan?”
“Don’t argue, babe,” Gary said softly. He had all the spine of a jellyfish. Maybe he was legitimately woozy thanks to what she’d put in his drink, but that didn’t mean he had to roll over for a pair of thugs, did it?
Seeing no other option, Dominique opened the front door. She scanned the horizon, weighing the risks of running and shouting against the hopelessness of doing nothing.
“The Holms have closed up their house for the winter, and the Jordans are in Montauk this weekend,” Gary said. “There’s no one out there, babe.”
“Walk,” the Viking said.
He nudged Dominique with his gun, forcing her to lead them around the side of the house. It was only then that she spotted the white van. It must have been parked there all along, waiting for her and Gary to arrive, she decided. There was no lettering on the side, but she noted the New York State license plate: FAF-72…
The Viking yanked her hair so hard that her head jolted back. “Don’t get—”
He was interrupted by Gary, who was suddenly wide awake and furious. “Don’t you dare touch her!” Gary yelled.
The Viking spun around, and Dominique fully expected him to strike Gary. Instead, his frosty eyes were blinking furiously. “Okay,” he muttered.
The Bug pulled open the door at the back of the van. There was a long metal bench on either side, with metal chains attached. It looked like a prison-transport vehicle. That made Dominique think of her mother and she took an involuntary step back.
“Wrong way,” the Viking said. “Inside.”
“Look, there must be some way we can work this out. You know he’s married to a very rich woman, obviously. You can—”
“Inside now, and I’ll recuff you with your arms in front,” the Viking said.
She stepped into the van, followed by Gary, who was being nudged along by the Bug. Gary’s arms were already cuffed in front of him, so all the Viking did was attach a chain to the cuffs, forcing Gary to hunch forward slightly. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Your turn,” the Viking said to Dominique.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked as he put the muzzle of the gun to the back of her head, unlocking one cuff. He turned her and pushed her down on the bench, restraining her and attaching a chain.
“Business.”
His voice was so matter-of-fact it took Dominique’s breath away. She flinched, even though his hands weren’t on her.
“What’s wrong with him?” the Viking asked after he attached her second cuff.
“Muscle relaxant.”
The icy blue eyes narrowed again. “He take it himself?”
“No,” she admitted, feeling
