Someone To Steal by Cara Nelson Page B

phone. When it lit green, his dark eyes narrowed. For an instant, he considered shooting it.
    Accepting the call instead, he barked, “Booth here,” into the receiver.
                  “Ah, Mr. Booth. How are you this morning?” The Ukrainian’s cultured voice came smoothly. “I have an acquaintance of yours here with me.”
                  “I guessed as much, Sergey. What do you want?”
                  “I? I want for nothing, I assure you. Your little friend might want for water or medical attention. I regret to say that my employees gave her concussion in the fracas at the vault. She seems to have quit vomiting now. Quite a distasteful business,” he said cheerfully.
                  “What do you want?” Cain repeated coldly.
                  “Only your assistance with a project, as usual.”
                  “This is not as usual. You have my—partner.”
                  “Yes. Quite a pretty thing, but with a nasty mouth, unfortunately. So unladylike. We’re working on her manners, though. She’s not a fast learner.” His bright voice dripped with malice, and Cain made himself put the gun on a table so he didn’t break it in his icy rage.
                  “What project?”
                  “An artifact. You will receive message at usual email account. You have forty hours to complete the job and bring me the item.”
                  “Then you’ll let her go? Unharmed?”
                  “Of course,” the Ukrainian said.
    Cain let out a breath with some measure of relief. “I want proof of life. This can’t be like Caryn. I won’t work for you if you ‘accidentally’ kill Riley Stanhope.”
                  “You’ll do as I say, or I’ll video it for you so you can watch her beg for death.”
                  Cain fought down the impulse to gag and waited. After a rustling sound, he heard Riley’s voice.
                  “Don’t do anything for these bastards. I mean it, Cain!” she barked into the phone, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Don’t agree to anything! They can fucking kill mem but do not help them. Cain, please—”
    He heard the strain in her rising voice and the harsh blow that stopped her words with a cry.
                  “Ah, I had hoped you could persuade her to behave better. It only makes things more difficult for her,” the Ukrainian’s voice returned.
                  “I’ll do it,” Cain said flatly and hung up the call. He cued up his email account and read the details.
                  Within the hour he boarded his jet, headed for South Africa. There was an artifact from Pompeii held by a private collector there, and Cain was ready to shoot his way in to get it. He felt his lungs clenched as if in a massive fist, a slight breathlessness of disbelief that Riley had been taken. He set his jaw, determined not to give way to fear or blame. Self-pity would get her killed, but resolve could save her life, and he was resolute down to the marrow.
     
    Oo00oO
     
                  “So you guys speak English, right?” Riley said, trying not to twist her hands in their zip ties, even though the plastic was cutting into her wrists.
    She knew how to break the zip tie bonds, but with three guards on her, it wouldn’t do much toward an escape. She was biding her time. They had to relax sometime, and then she’d strike. She had no intention of being tortured or killed. She didn’t much like the idea; plus she wasn’t sure Cain could live with himself if she died. Thoughts of never seeing him again made her feel soft, strangely weepy. She focused on how she was going to kick the ass of everyone in this bunker, starting with the guy who slapped her when she was on the phone. She didn’t take that kind of shit off anyone, whether he had a gun or