Chapter 47

Twenty-five minutes earlier in a house still under construction, sixty miles north, the rope securing Phillip's left hand finally gave way. He caught it before it flopped onto the floor, then glanced at the guy sleeping in a chair next to the room's only door. The man didn't stir.

While it had taken most of the night to cut through the one rope, it only took a minute to remove the ones around his other hand and his ankles.

He stretched to get the blood flowing and rose to his feet. He hurt everywhere, but he could deal with that later.

He silently moved to the sleeping man and snapped the guy's neck so quickly, the guard hadn't had time to wake.

A search of the body turned up a seven-inch knife and a Smith Wesson .45-caliber pistol.

He listened at the door but heard nothing, so he eased it open and slipped through.

Seven minutes later, he stood in front of the door to the master bedroom. Scattered throughout the house behind him were the lifeless bodies of the assholes who'd kidnapped him. The only one missing was their boss. And Nico and Petry, of course. But he didn't expect them to be here.

Phillip shoved the door open, startling the naked couple lying on a mattress in the middle of the room.

"What the fuck?" the boss said. Then he realized who it was and dove toward a pistol on the floor.

Phillip pulled the Smith Wesson's trigger and the concrete just in front of the boss's fingers shattered into dozens of shards.

The man jerked back.

Phillip gestured to the pistol on the floor. "Ma'am, kick that over to me, will you."

The woman looked at the boss.

"Don't you dare," he said.

"I wouldn't worry about what he says if I were you," Phillip said.

The woman hesitated for only a moment before getting up.

The boss tried to lunge for her, so Phillip shot him in the shoulder, knocking him back.

The woman circled around the boss and scooted the gun to Phillip.

"Thanks. You might want to use the bathroom."

"I— It's not hooked up yet."

"Please."

"Oh. Um, sure."

She hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.

Face roiling in pain, the boss yelled, "Jared! Mick! Get your asses in here!"

"Sorry, but they won't be coming," Phillip said.

The man's eyes widened. "Wait. You can just go. I'll—"

Phillip put a bullet through the center of the man's forehead. "Damn right I can just go."

He opened the bathroom door.

The woman shrieked.

"Relax, lady. I'm not going to hurt you. I just have a couple questions."

"Questions?"

"First, do you know where they put my phone?"

"Uh, I think there were a couple in the kitchen."

"Cool. Last question, where are we?"

"What?"

"Our location. I wasn't exactly conscious when they brought me here."

"Right. Uh, this is Palmdale."

"Is that part of L.A.?"

She shook her head. "It's in the desert, about an hour north."

"Thank you. You've been a big help. Probably best if you stay in here for a while. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "You have a nice day."

An hour later, Simon picked up Phillip outside a 7-Eleven, a mile from the house where he'd been held.

"You look like shit. What happened?"

"Drive," Phillip said, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

Simon didn't like the tone in Phillip's voice but, given that the man's face was a mass of cuts and bruises, he decided not to call him on it.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Phillip finally said, "Did you close the deal with Petry?"

"Yes."

"He has the paintings?"

"He has the forgeries. Or Sticks might still have them. I'm not sure."

Phillip looked at him for the first time, the dried blood on his forehead crinkling as he furrowed his brow.

"I guess there's a few things I need to catch you up on."

When they reached L.A., Phillip had Simon drop him off in a quiet neighborhood in the Valley.

Before Phillip closed the door, Simon said, "I'll pick you up at six so we can be downtown for the meeting at Rudy's."

Phillip stared at him, his face blank. "No."

"No?"

"I have other things to deal with."

"But—"

"Goodbye, Simon." Phillip shut the door and walked off.