The Big Bad Wolf

right here!
    The party got terribly quiet suddenly. Everyone was whispering, and it was hard to hear. But she definitely heard “FBI,” and theories as to why they were here.
“Drugs.”
Everyone seemed to think so.
    Lizzie
prayed
this wasn’t about drugs. What if they took the Wolf to jail? She would be left here. She couldn’t stop shaking.
    She had to let the FBI know she was here.
But how? She was always bound and gagged. They were so close. . . .
I’m in the closet! Please look in the closet!
    She had imagined dozens of escape plans, but only
after
the Wolf opened the door and leashed her to go to the bathroom or walk in the main part of the house. Lizzie knew there was no way to get out of the locked closet. Not tied up the way she was. She didn’t know how to signal the FBI.
    Then she heard someone making a loud announcement. A male. Deep voice. Calm and in control.
    “I’m Agent Mahoney with the FBI. Everyone leave the main house immediately. Please assemble on the back lawns. Everyone is to leave the house now! No one leaves the grounds.”
    Lizzie heard shoes scraping the hardwood floors—rapid footsteps. People were leaving. Then what? She’d be all alone. If they took the Wolf away . . . what would happen to her? There had to be something she could do to let the FBI know she was in here. What?
    Someone named Atticus Stonestrom was talking loudly.
    Then she heard the Wolf speak, and it chilled her. He was still in the house. Arguing with someone. She couldn’t tell who, or exactly what they were saying.
    What can I do? Something! Anything!
    What, what?
    What haven’t I thought of before?
    And then Lizzie had an idea. Actually, she’d had it before but always dismissed it.
    Because it scared the hell out of her.

Chapter 102
    “I’M GLAD YOU’RE HERE to see this for yourself, Atticus,” the Wolf said to his lawyer. “This is such bullshit harassment. My businesses are beyond reproach. You know that better than anyone. This is highly insulting.” He looked at me. “Do you know how many business associates you’ve insulted at this party?”
    I was still restraining myself from responding to his threat to my family, to Little Alex. I didn’t want to take him down; I wanted to take him out.
    “Trust me, this isn’t harassment,” I told the lawyer. “We’re here to arrest your client for kidnapping.”
    Sorokin rolled his eyes. “Are you people mad? Do you know who I am?” he asked. Jesus, I’d heard almost the same speech in Dallas.
    “As a matter of fact, I do,” I said. “Your real name is Pasha Sorokin, not Ari Manning. Some people say you’re the Russian godfather. You’re the Wolf.”
    Sorokin heard me out, then he laughed a crazy laugh. “You are such fools.
You,
especially.” He pointed at me. “You just don’t get it.”
    Suddenly there were shouts coming from one of the other rooms on the first floor.
“Fire!”
someone was yelling.
    “C’mon, Alex!” Mahoney said. He and I left Sorokin with three other agents and ran to see what the hell was going on.
How could there be a fire? Now?
    There
was
a fire. It seemed to have started in the large study off the main living room, in a closet. Swirls of smoke came from under the door. A lot of smoke.
    I grabbed the doorknob, which was hot. The closet was locked. I lowered my shoulder and hit the door hard. I slammed into it again. The wood cracked this time. I hit it once more, and the door collapsed. Thick black smoke billowed out.
    I stepped up close and tried to peer inside. Then I saw something move.
    Someone was in there. I could see a face.
    Elizabeth Connolly was in there—and she was on fire!

Chapter 103
    I TOOK A BREATH, then lunged forward into the cloud of smoke and heat. I felt the skin on my face begin to burn. I forced myself inside the walk-in closet. Stooped down. I grabbed Elizabeth Connolly in my arms and stumbled backward out of the closet with her. My eyes were tearing, and my face felt blistered. Elizabeth’s eyes were open wide as I removed her gag. Ned Mahoney worked on the rope bindings around her arms.
    “Thank you,” she whispered in a voice hoarse with smoke. “Oh, thank you,” she gasped.
    Tears ran from her eyes, smudging the soot on her cheeks. My heart thumped a wild beat as I held her hand and waited for the paramedics to come. I couldn’t believe she was alive, but it made everything worthwhile.
    I only got to savor the feeling for a few seconds. Shots rang out. I ran from the