Pandora's Box (33 page)

Madison
snapped into professional mode.
 
“Let’s go then.”

And he was out the door.
 
Madison
scrambled off the bed and rifled through the homeowner’s drawers.
 
She found a pair of jeans and a sweater that fit.
 
As soon as she had them on, she bolted after
Tyler
.
 
Her gut told her this was far from over.
 

The thing that bothered her the most at the moment was the fact that
Tyler
seemed happy to be going home.
 
They’d made love last night.
 
Yet,
Tyler
hadn’t said a sweet word to her, touched her, or tried to kiss her this morning.
 

Madison
followed
Tyler
out of the house while staring daggers into his back.
 
One thing was for sure.
 
She wasn’t going to tell him about her dreams or visions, whatever they were.
 
First she wanted to figure out what they meant.

******

An hour and a half later,
Madison
boarded the private plane that the president had sent for them.
 
Tyler
remained outside with the pilot, going over their itinerary.
 
He’d asked
Madison
to go make herself comfortable.
 
In other words he didn’t want her anywhere near him.
 
Paranoia set her teeth on edge.
 
Why didn’t he want her close to him?

The plane’s interior screamed money.
 
Instead of chairs there were two soft couches facing each other, a wet bar, and two rows of lovely windows for gazing at the perfect, blue sky.
 
She poured herself a shot of whiskey before collapsing on the end of one soft couch.
 
She folded her legs beneath her, half-turned, and watched
Tyler
talk to the pilot.
 
He really was a gorgeous man.
 

“Good to see you again,” drawled a familiar voice.
 

The drink in
Madison
’s hand shook, nearly spilling when she saw DeMarco framed in the cockpit doorway.
 
For a dead man he looked great.
 
He still wore the same clothes he’d died in, a suit covered in blood.
 
His hair was disheveled and the fatigue she saw in his eyes had reinforced the lines around them.
 

Madison
let the glass go.
 
It fell to the floor, splashing amber liquid over the luxurious carpet, but she barely noticed.
 
She jumped to her feet and ran to DeMarco, wrapping her arms around his neck.
 
She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
 
“You’re alive!
 
But how?
 
You lost so much blood, and
Tyler
took your pulse.
 
He told me you were dead.
 
What happened?”
 
She squeezed him tighter.
 
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.
 
I’m so relieved to see you standing.”
 

Her instincts woke with a sharp inner cry and her entire body stiffened.
 
For a moment she’d forgotten what the president had said about DeMarco.
 
But if it was true, if DeMarco was behind the assassination attempts, then what was he doing on a plane the president had sent?

DeMarco’s arms hadn’t moved to return the embrace.
 
He stood stiffly, arms at his sides, totally unmoved by her happiness at seeing him.
 
Something was wrong.
 
She pulled back, the smile frozen to her face.
 
It died a quick death when she saw his cold eyes.
 

“Marc?
 
What’s wrong?
 
What’s going on?”

Were they right about him?

“Not much, sweetheart.”
 
He traced a finger down the side of her face.
 
His expression chilled her.
 
“The CIA and the Secret Service want the two of you pretty badly.
 
You…a terrorist?
 
Who would have believed it?
 
I think I’ll probably get a promotion for this.”

He thought she was the villain.

Before she had a chance to respond, he spun her around.
 
With one arm locked around her throat, he dragged her back to the couch.
 
He forced her down on it.
 
Madison
tried to scream a warning to
Tyler
, but DeMarco had her voice box in a lock-down.
 
She tried to kick him, tried to hit him.
 
DeMarco seemed prepared for anything.
 
He deflected each move easily.

Cold metal snapped around her wrist.
 
He’d handcuffed her to the couch’s wooden arm.
 
Big deal.
 
He thought he was going to turn her into the authorities.
 
Somehow she’d get away and find a way to prove her innocence.
 

“I thought I could trust you,” she said with a sneer.
 
“You faked your death to make me crazy, didn’t you?
 
It was all an act.
 
Tell me, were you always acting?
 
When we were together were you playing me?”

DeMarco smiled at her, but he didn’t respond to the taunts.
 
She jerked on the handcuffs, desperately wanting to get to him long enough to wipe the smug look from his face.

“What are you going to do now, Marc?
 
Are you going to take
Tyler
into custody, too?
 
The president’s son?
 
You’ll look like the world’s biggest fool.”

“Is that what you think?”
 
He knelt in front of her, his knees on her feet so she couldn’t unman him with a kick to the groin area.
 
He leaned over her lap.
 
His hands traveled up the length of her legs, caressing hard as if he wanted to mark her.
 
“I’m not taking either of you back to
Washington
?”

If he wasn’t arresting them, then what was with the handcuffs?
 

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

His smile widened and the unmistakable glint of insanity clouded his dark eyes.
 
His hands slid between her thighs.
 
She stopped him cold with a piercing glare and said, “If you don’t get your hands off me, I will kill you for real.”

He blinked at her, not crazy enough to think she didn’t mean it.
 
There was even a tiny speck of fear deep in those eyes now.
 

Madison
jerked forward, smacking his head with hers.
 
A loud crack was followed by mumbled obscenities.
 
He grabbed his forehead with one hand, staggered away, and removed the gun from the back of his pants with the other.
 
“You bitch!
 
I should kill you right here and now.”

“What’s stopping you?
 
Who are you working for, you lying pig?”

He rubbed his forehead.
 
His insane laughter echoed in the tiny confines of the plane.
 
“I’m not going to shoot you.
 
I have bigger and better plans for you.”

“Really?”
 
She forced her features to remain only partially interested.
 
“And what is that?”

“You’re going to go bang.”
 
DeMarco’s laughter grew louder and louder.
 
“There’s a bomb on the plane, sweetie.
 
I made it just for you.”

******

Chapter Fifteen

A bomb?

Madison
’s blood became ice.
 
She slowly turned to glance over her shoulder at Tyler and the pilot.
 
They weren’t far enough away from the plane to save their lives.
 
DeMarco had truly lost his mind.
 
Or perhaps he’d always been crazy and she just hadn’t noticed.
 
She looked back at his smirking face.

“Don’t worry,” he said.
 
“Your boyfriend won’t live to hook up with another woman.
 
I know how much it hurts when the one you love forgets you entirely and runs off with the first jerk that comes along.”

“Is that what this is about?”
 
She settled back against her seat and tried her hardest not to look scared.
 
“You still have a thing for me and you’re angry because I don’t want you.
 
This is just like the night you shot at
Tyler
.”
 
She lowered her voice, trying to create a feeling of intimacy with him to remind him of how close they were.
 
“Think about what you’re doing, Marc.
 
You don’t really want to kill me.”

He stared a hole through her, but his lips remained stubbornly closed.
 
The gun in his hand didn’t waiver an inch.
 
His eyes slowly narrowed on her face as if he’d read her thoughts and he shook his head at her.
 
“You aren’t as clever as you think you are, sweetheart.
 
I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”
 
It was time to hit him with some hard facts.
 
She took a deep breath, put her thoughts in order, and released the words pushing to the front of her mouth.
 
“I met with Grainger.
 
Do you know about him?
 
The microchips he invented have been planted in several people’s heads, including my own.
 
They turn people into puppets.
 
Do you have one?
 
Is that why you suddenly want to kill me?”

DeMarco blinked at her, obviously confused.
 
Then laughter rumbled deep in his chest.
 
And he didn’t stop laughing.
 
He laughed as if he’d heard the funniest joke of his life.
 
Wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his free hand, he said, “You always were a convincing liar.”

“I’m not lying.”
 
With her free hand she lifted the hair from the nape of her neck and showed him where her chip was located even though there wasn’t a tell-tale sign.
 
“Mine is right back here.
 
Grainger couldn’t remove it, but he did deactivate it.
 
Of course I have no idea what horrible things I’ve done because of it.”
 
DeMarco stared at her, unconvinced, so
Madison
added, “That’s what happened to me at the cabin when you were pretending to be dead.
 
Didn’t you wonder why I’d spaced out.”

There was a lengthy pause when no one was talking and DeMarco seemed to be considering her words.
 
He bent low and looked out the window to see if
Tyler
was still busy with the pilot.
 
When he straightened back up, he began to pace.
 
He mumbled to himself, but she couldn’t catch the words.
 
A flicker of hope pushed
Madison
to keep trying.

“Do you have blank spots in your memory, Marc?
 
I do.
 
I broke into the agency to use their computer after my father was killed.
 
Next thing I know I’m in a bar.
 
The bartender told me I’d been there for over an hour.”
 
She shook her head hard.
 
“I don’t remember a second of it.
 
That’s what the chip does to you.
 
That’s how you know you have one.”

She didn’t bother to tell him she had three.
 

DeMarco squinted at her.
 
“No.
 
It’s not possible.
 
I don’t have a microchip in my brain.
 
Even if you’re telling the truth and they do exist, I don’t have one.
 
No one would do that to me.
 
I mean, how could they?
 
I would know if someone had messed with my head.”

“I didn’t know.”
 
She shrugged.
 
“My first clue was lost bits of time.
 
And even then I couldn’t imagine something like this happening to me.
 
But it’s true.
 
I think the person behind it was going to make me kill the president.”

DeMarco stepped closer, his eyes filled with fear.
 
He looked as if he was going to beg her to help him.
 
But he stopped short.
 
He shook the gun at her instead.
 
“No, dammit!
 
You are not going to suck me in that way.
 
It’s over for you.”
 
He actually patted her on the head.
 
“I’m sorry about this.
 
I didn’t have a choice.”