Pandora's Box (19 page)

“That’s an interesting question,” the assassin said.
 
“I want a lot of things.
 
I wanted a real family, my real mother, a nice house, and a person I could trust and confide in, but that was a long time ago.
 
Now I just want blood.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

The assassin spoke slow and deliberate. “You were born.
 
You were loved.
 
You make me sick.”

Madison
sighed.
 
“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking in code?
 
Am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about?
 
Try English.”

“You were always so superior.
 
You haven’t changed, not at all.”
 
The assassin bent forward again and whispered, “We used to play together when we were kids.
 
I guess I should ask how little Sally is.
 
You remember your favorite little doll, don’t you?
 
She was so pretty… until I got done with her.”

The assassin’s elbow remained on the armrest, but her fist flew up and slammed
Madison
in the face.
 
Caught off guard, she reeled from the blow.
 
She tentatively touched her nose.
 
Her fingers found a spot of blood at the corner of her left nostril.
 
By the time she recovered enough to react she realized the seat next to her had been vacated.
 

Madison
looked up and down the aisle.
 
They were on an airplane.
 
The blonde bitch had to be somewhere nearby.
 
She wasn’t going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.
 
There hadn’t been a parachute strapped to her slimy back.
 
So
Madison
settled back in her seat, realizing she couldn’t chase the assassin down and start a fight on a crowded plane.

Sally
?
 
The owner of the name came back to her with sharp clarity.
 
Sally had been her favorite doll, a special birthday gift from her mother.
 
The doll’s head had been ripped off by Rico Baracci’s delinquent daughter.
 
Long forgotten anger surfaced.
 
Now she knew the identity of the Blonde Assassin.

Roxie.
 
The blonde child with the quick temper and the violent streak had terrorized her on several occasions, each time warning her that if she said a word, Roxie would do the same thing to her that she’d done to the doll.
 
Oh why hadn’t she seen it before?
 

Although she’d been miserable when Grainger and his wife had stopped coming to the house, she’d been relieved to discover she wouldn’t be seeing Roxie again.
 
The girl had gone through her mother's private things, she’d broken valuable items and blamed it on
Madison
, and she’d destroyed every cherished personal possession
Madison
had had at the time.

The Blonde Assassin’s personal grudge against her finally made sense.

The flight attendant handed her a drink.
 
“Sorry it took so long, Sister.”

Madison
asked, “Did you see a tall, skinny woman with short platinum blonde hair?”

The stewardess shook her head.
 
“Sorry, no.
 
Is something wrong?”

Madison
denied it and forced a smile.
 
There wasn’t anything she could do about the assassin until the plane touched ground.
 
She handed the drink the assassin had given her to the flight attendant without a word of explanation.

The stewardess walked away, puzzled.

Madison
finished her drink quickly, allowing it to burn a sweet path down her throat.
 
She had a couple more during the rest of the long, uneventful flight.
 
Apparently
Tyler
did know how to fly a plane.
 
If it wasn’t for Roxie’s appearance, she might have relaxed enough to take a short nap.

Tyler
’s smooth voice droned over the intercom.
 
They’d be arriving in
Reno
soon.
 
She looked around for the flight attendant to order another drink, but the woman was nowhere in sight, and
Madison
suddenly realized she had to use the bathroom.
 
Better to do that first.
 

She got up, cautiously walked to the back of the plane, eyes peeled for the first sign of platinum blonde hair.
 
She went to open the restroom door and her hand collided with another.
 
She expected to see the blonde terror for a moment, but this man was a total stranger to her.

A wiry gentleman with dark glasses gave her an apologetic smile.
 
He removed his hand quickly and took a step backwards, gesturing for her to use the bathroom first.
 
Obviously the guy had to go, too.
 
With a few glasses of vodka inside of her
Madison
felt more generous than usual.
 
She shook her head.

“You go ahead,” she said.
 
“I can wait.”

“No.
 
I insist.”
 
He waved her to the door.
 
“Ladies first.”

Madison
shrugged.
 
She wasn’t going to stand around and argue with the guy over who got to squat first.
 
She stepped forward, but she remembered to smile in gratitude at the man and mouth a ‘thank you.’
 

She did her business as fast as humanly possible, washed her hands thoroughly, and reopened the door.
 
The man lowered his newspaper.
 
Madison
tried to move past him, but he blocked her way in a swift side-step.
 
It didn’t occur to her the man did it on purpose.
 
She smiled at him the way people do when they accidentally get in each other’s way, moving back and forth at the same time like they’re doing an unscheduled dance, a touch of embarrassment on their faces.

He didn’t return her smile.

His hand moved fast, heading for her face.
 
A flash of white caught her eye and the scent of trouble.
 
Chloroform.
 
He shoved her backwards through the open bathroom door and tried to cover her nose and mouth with the handkerchief.

She stomped on his foot, bent his arm behind his back, and shoved him against the small sink.
 
His head cracked against the mirror.
 
A strangled groan emerged from him.
 
He teetered on unsteady feet and the white handkerchief fell to the floor.
 
Seeing it lying there sent a new wave of anger through her taut body.
 
She pushed him out the door, tripping him so he would fall.
 
He went down hard.
 
His head struck the opposite wall.

Several passengers turned curious eyes on them, but she was beyond caring who saw what.
 
She deliberately pressed her booted foot against the man’s throat just enough to make breathing difficult for him.
 

“Who sent you?” she demanded to know.
 
“Who the hell are you working for?”

Time for answers was cut short as a passenger raced after a stewardess.
 
A couple of men got up from their seats and hovered nearby, obviously waiting for an opportunity to intervene.
 
They probably thought she was a terrorist.
 
If she didn’t get the jerk to give up a name soon, she’d never hear it.

“I want a name!” she shouted, pushing harder against his throat.
 

The man grinned at her with sharp, uneven teeth.
 
He pulled something black from his coat pocket before she could stop him and touched her ankle with it.
 
A blue light flickered.
 
Electricity shot through her entire body from ankle to skull.
 
Her teeth clamped together in shock.
 
She stumbled backwards.

Pain chased her down to a dark place.

******

Chapter Nine

Madison
didn’t open her eyes immediately upon regaining consciousness.
 
Her well-honed survival instincts cautioned her against moving a muscle until she got her bearings.
 
Her gut told her she wasn’t alone.
 
Her head throbbed and an odd taste haunted the inside of her mouth.
 
The unmistakable feel of a soft pillow beneath her head pit logic against her suspicious nature.
 
If she was in danger, would her captors care about her comfort?
 
Not likely.

Carefully she searched her memory for the last bit of information stored there.
 
Her fog-wrapped brain slowly cleared starting with the memory of
Tyler
in a pilot’s uniform.
 
She followed the path to the inevitable conclusion: a fight with a seemingly harmless man.
 
Bastard had zapped her with a stun gun.
 

Pain shot through her head, wringing a groan from her.
 
A new voice in the distance responded quickly.

“Good.
 
You’re awake.”

She was right about not being alone.
 

She opened her eyes a slit, her entire body taut and ready to battle.
 
The room slowly swam into focus.
 
She’d been in enough motels to recognize the furniture layout.
 
One full-sized bed with an unimpressive painting above it, a long dresser with an old television on it, and the open bathroom door.
 
There were a couple of wrapped plastic cups on the sink next to a plastic ice bucket.

A man stood in the corner of the room beside the ugly drapes which were closed at the moment, probably to keep anyone from seeing what he was doing.
 
He was bathed in shadow so she couldn’t see his face.
 
He emerged slowly, crossing the room to stand next to the bed, but he didn’t say another word, giving her time to study him.
 
His dark eyes glistened with smug satisfaction as he waited for the results of her silent appraisal.

Temporary relief flooded her system.
 
She knew him.
 
It was Elias Grainger.
 
Once upon a time he’d been ‘Uncle’ Eli.
 

Although he didn’t threaten her or try to harm her, there was something off in his stance.
 
The tension in his stocky frame added to her concern.
 
Even though he’d been a friend of her father’s, he smelled like an enemy.
 
She would have to remain on constant guard with him, but she couldn’t let her wariness show.

Turning her head brought fresh pain and a wave of nausea.

He told her, “I’m afraid you struck your head on the wall when you fell.
 
I don’t think you have a concussion.”
 
He sat next to her on the bed.
 
The mattress sank with his added weight and she had to move over to keep from rolling into him.
 
He scratched the thick, black beard concealing his chin and said, “I do apologize for my friend’s overzealous employees.
 
You weren’t supposed to be hurt.”

Tension reclaimed
Madison
’s body and she inched further away from him, hoping she had enough strength to defend herself if necessary.
 
She felt totally drained, weak as a newborn kitten.
 
A weapon would give her an added edge.
 
Her eyes darted around the room and found nothing useful.

“Where am I?”
 

“You’re safe,” he assured her.
 
“I assume you remember me?
 
I heard you visited my wife in the hospital before getting on the plane.
 
You were always a good girl.
 
I’m sure she appreciated it.
 
She loved you like a daughter.”

“How do you know I paid her a visit?”

“A friend of mine has people following you.”

“A friend?”
 
She was afraid to ask, but… “Anyone I know?”

“Rico Boracci, the only one of my old friends I can still depend on.”

So ‘Uncle’ Rico was in on the Pandora’s Box thing too?
 
It didn’t surprise her.
 
Not much did these days.
 
Although, she was a bit stunned that he’d paid someone to attack her.
 
Did that mean the Blonde Assassin worked for him?
 
Roxie was his daughter.
 
It would make perfect sense for the two of them to be working together.
 
Who else had the power to hold her leash?
 
It had to be him.