Hot Rocks

when I’m willing to make a deal that gives us both exactly what we want, with a little extra.”
    He rose. “You’re an intriguing woman, Laine.” Absently, he pulled off the wig.
    “Mmm, better.” She pursed her lips as she studied his pewter hair. “Much better. Could I have a refill?” She held out her glass, waggled it gently from side to side. “I’d like to ask you something,” she continued when he went back for the bottle. “If you have the rest of the diamonds—”
    “If?”
    “I’ve only got your word you do. I don’t consider my father a reliable source.”
    “Oh, I’ve got them.”
    “If you do, why not take the bird in the hand and fly rather than beating the bush for the rest?”
    His face was stone, the smile carved onto it, and the eyes dead. “I don’t settle for half of anything.”
    “I respect that. Still, I could make sharing very pleasant for you.”
    He filled her glass, set the bottle on the table. “Sex is overrated.”
    She gave a low, throaty laugh. “Wanna bet?”
    “As attractive as you are, you’re just not worth twenty-eight million.”
    “Now you’ve hurt my feelings.” Get him closer, she thought, get him closer and distract him. It’ll hurt, but it’ll only hurt for a minute. Bracing herself for it, she leaned forward for the wine, then shifted so the phone in her pocket slapped against the arm of the couch.
    He was on her like fury, yanking her hair to drag her down, tearing at her pocket. There were floating black dots of pain and fear whirling in front of her eyes, but she pushed herself up shakily and stared in what she hoped passed as disgust at the wine stains on her pants.
    “Oh, for God’s sake. I hope you’ve got some club soda.”
    He backhanded her so that the black dots exploded into red.

CHAPTER 16
    Max angled his car across the gravel road, just out of sight of the last cabin on the left. If Crew tried to run, he’d have to go through the Porsche first.
    It was quiet and near dusk. He’d seen little activity in the woods, or in the cabins he’d passed. Hikers would be back by this time of day, vacationers settling in for dinner or a drink.
    He shut off the engine, then leaned across Jack to unlock the glove box.
    “We can’t just sit here.”
    “We’re not going to just sit here.” Max removed his gun, a second clip, then tossed a pair of binoculars in Jack’s lap. “Keep an eye on the place.”
    “You go in there with that, somebody’s going to get hurt. Guns are trouble,” Jack added when Max merely looked at him.
    “Right on both counts.” He checked the clip, slapped it back into place, shoved the spare into his pocket. “Cops are on their way. It’ll take them some time to secure the area, set up for a hostage situation. They know he’s armed, they know he has Laine. They’ll try to negotiate.”
    “How do you negotiate with a fucking lunatic? My girl’s in there, Max. That’s my baby girl in there.”
    “She’s my girl, too. And I don’t negotiate.”
    Jack swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “We’re not waiting for the cops here either.”
    “We’re not waiting.” Since Jack had yet to use the field glasses, Max took them, focused in on the cabin. “Closed up tight. Curtains are pulled over the windows. From this angle, I see one door, four windows. Probably a rear door, couple more windows on the other side, couple in the back. He can’t get out this way, but if he gets past me, he could swing around the other side, take one of the side roads and loop to the main. I don’t think we’re going to let that happen.”
    Once again, he reached into the glove box. This time he pulled out a sheathed knife. When he drew the leather off, the blade was a sheen of bright silver with a vicious jagged edge.
    “Jesus Christ.”
    “You take care of the tires on that Mercedes with this?”
    “Tires.” Jack breathed deep, in, out. “Yeah. I can do that.”
    “All right. Here’s the way we play it.”
     
     
     
    Inside, Laine pushed herself up. Her ears rang from the blow, and under the pounding, she cursed herself for not moving quickly enough, not anticipating his reaction so she’d taken a swipe rather than a direct hit.
    She knew her eyes were bright with tears, but she wouldn’t shed them. Instead she burned them away with a hot stare as she laid a hand on her throbbing cheekbone. “You bastard. You son of a bitch.”
    He gripped her by the shirt, hauled her an inch off the couch. She