Chapter Fifty-Six

Lucien Kite Estate

October 31

W ith Clara’s hand firmly in his own, Miles strode across the front lawn of the house to the hired town car. As they pulled away from the mansion, Miles hauled Clara into his lap and kissed her. They had done it.

The gentle weight of her body was a comfort he had missed for far too long. Clara Gautreau was stubborn and impulsive. She was too bright for her own good and adventurous to the point of foolhardy. In short, she was perfect in every way.

He loved her. And he would tell her as soon as they reached the safety of his loft.

T he car pulled smoothly to a stop at the curb in front of Miles’s building.

Miles was so lost in Clara’s scent and touch he noticed far too late the two armed men flanking the rear passenger doors—the same guys he and Tox had taken down in his decoy apartment. The larger man tapped Miles’s window with the barrel of his gun and smiled through the glass. “Remember me?”

Sliding Clara over on the seat, Miles pushed the emergency button on the watch and exited the car.

The goon eyed his costume. “Well, good evening, your lordship.”

Ignoring him, Miles stepped farther from the car, away from Clara. “What now, fellas?”

Spotting Garza’s gun in his waistband, the guy flapped his fingers in a hand-it-over gesture. Miles complied.

The smaller man peered through the window behind the driver, who was cowering in his seat. “Who’s this?”

Miles replied dismissively. “One of Chug’s by-the-hour girls, she’s nobody.”

Chug’s muscle knocked on the glass. “She’d be money well spent.”

Miles needed to get their attention off of Clara. “What does Chug want now?”

The big man smiled. “He’d like a word, your eminence, or should I say, Miles Buchanan .”

Miles’s face fell. He was typically inscrutable; nothing fazed him, but Chug Ugentti, of all people, had cracked his alias.

“That’s right,” the enforcer continued, tapping the gun barrel to his own temple. “I got your number.”

“Big Mike, let’s move. People are starting to notice.”

“All right, Your Highness, hop in. Keep your hands where I can see them. We’re going to grace New Jersey with your kingly presence.”

Miles complied as he walked to the side of the panel van parked in front of their town car. The other accomplice joined them and slid open the door. Miles had roughly ten seconds to pull this off. He had laid the groundwork. He stepped into the bare rear section with his hands in the air and sat on a pile of painter’s tarps. When the door closed, Miles pulled out his phone and sent a text. Then he shared his location, locked the screen, and slipped the phone between the layers of canvas under his legs.

“Sit tight. We’ll be there in a jiff.”

“Where is there?”

The man didn’t answer, but it was clear where they were headed. Miles went into survival mode. He was on his own. Miles looked down at his costume. He had been caught off guard.

Big Mike pulled out of the parking spot. “Mikey, get his cell phone. Chug will have our asses if we forget.”

The smaller man, Mikey, climbed into the back and extended his hand. “Phone.”

“I didn’t bring it. Doesn’t really go with the period.” Miles indicated his costume.

“Yeah, right.” Mikey patted him down, then said to his partner, “He doesn’t have it.”

“Check around him.”

Mikey hauled Miles up, then pushed him into a pile of paint cans on the other side of the space. It didn’t take him long to find the phone. “Got it.”

“Toss it.” Mikey followed the order and threw the phone out the passenger window.

I n the back of the town car, Clara watched the kidnappers pull away. Something flew out the window as the van headed west. She’d heard the conversation and knew Ugentti’s men were taking Miles to New Jersey. She squeezed the driver’s shoulder.

“Follow them.”

“Forget it. I’ve got a wife and kids. Call the cops.”

“Please,” she begged. “I just need you to get me close. You won’t be in any danger.”

“Lady, get out of my car.”

Clara stood on the sidewalk as the driver peeled away. Glancing toward the corner, Clara raced over and grabbed Miles’s cracked cell phone from where it had landed in the gutter.

She scanned the street for a taxi, but there was nothing. Then she remembered. Running down the alley to the back door, she tore away the cumbersome skirt and let herself into Miles’s building. Clara spotted it instantly. Thirty seconds later, she was speeding after the van on the Ducati.