Page 117 of When He Plays

“Ares is a pawn,” that voice boomed. “Always has been. Used by the Russians. Used by the French. Used by the highest bidder. Figured it was time I use him, too.” Mocking laughter. Laughter that was far too close. “He’s my fall guy. When the dust is cleared, and your poor hacked-up bodies are found, he’ll be the one charged with the crimes.”

Another knot came loose.

“Step away from her, Charlotte. Step away now.”

The ropes were loose enough that Charlotte thought Harper could slide her hands free. But this wasn’t the moment to do that. Charlotte’s fingers swept over Harper’s shoulders. A quick squeeze. A silent message to stay put. To act as if she was still bound. Because in a pinch, she might need Harper to pull a surprise attack.

Um, was the other woman capable of doing that? How badly was she hurt?

Getting Harper to remain in the chair seemed like the best plan for the time being. To continue acting as the subdued victim. Not like they could run out of the cage. The lock was in place again, she’d already spied it, and the only way to get out would be to scale the fencing. That would equal another painful electric shock.

Her hand fell away from Harper’s shoulder as she moved in front of the other woman. “I thought we had a deal!” Her shout. His voice had come from the right, so she turned that way. Her eyes narrowed as she fought to see beyond the wall of darkness. “You said I could trade for her. Well, I’m here. Ready for that trade!”

“Is Logan dead?”

She recognized his voice. He wasn’t muffling or distorting it any longer, not like he had been when he’d called her on the phone. So…“Yes, Carmichael,” she replied, “I shot Logan and left him to die in our hotel suite.”

He laughed. More of that hard, mocking laughter.

Charlotte raised her chin. No weapon. She hadn’t been able to grab one in the hotel suite because she’d been worried he was watching. If she’d grabbed a weapon, he might have carried through on his promise to kill Jamar.

Jamar can’t be dead. He can’t be.

Immediately, she blocked the thought. Logan had not been dead. She trusted him. He would make sure her partner was okay. He’d send help to Jamar.

She had to focus on the killer in the dark and on saving both Harper and herself.

She was trapped in the cage. Carmichael was closing in. If he’d wanted, he could have killed her while she was unconscious. But Charlotte knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her pain. He wanted her fear. He wanted to have control over her. She’d read every profile created on this jerk.

He wasn’t going to kill her quickly, and he would get intimately close when he delivered his torture. She was counting on him getting close. Because when he was close…

I’ll attack.

Maybe she didn’t have a gun. Or a knife. But she had been trained to kill with her hands. She’d had countless hours of self-defense lessons in her life. She could take him down.

All she needed was a moment of weakness.

She also needed for Carmichael to get his ass into the cage. Luckily, she had just the right bait to get him inside.

Me.

“Are you surprised?” Carmichael asked. He stepped closer. Moved to less than a foot away from the cage. Not touching the fencing, but getting into the light. Smirking up at her.

She edged toward him, too. And, like Carmichael, she made sure not to touch the fencing. “Not overly. You were one of my suspects.”

“I knew who you were from the first moment,” he revealed.

Give yourself a cookie.

“Jacqueline told me all about you—about you. And about her powerful aunt, Jezebel. When people are confronted with pain—enormous, brutal pain—they will do anything to stop that agony. They will sell out loved ones. They will spill every secret that they’ve ever possessed. They will offer anything, if the torture just ends.”

Her hands fisted at her sides.

“Jacquline lasted three days before she broke.” He dropped that detail with far too much remembered satisfaction. “I wonder, how long will you last?”

She was not going to be there for three days. Help would come for her long before then.

Logan would come. She knew it in her bones. If Logan was not already inside that cavernous place, then he was damn close. First, he would have sent help to Jamar. Probably a fast text to Jezebel in order to get operatives swarming on Jamar’s room. Then Logan would have run after her.