Innocent as Sin

61

Phoenix

Sunday

Kayla was tired of being on her knees. She made a show of meekly staring at the floor, but she was listening to Foley’s end of the cell phone conversation. Whatever Bertone was saying to Foley, he didn’t like. He was pale, greasy.

He stank of nervous sweat and fear.

She was sure she did, too.

“I told you,” Foley said to the cell phone. “The fucker is empty. No money. No funds. Nothing! You sure you didn’t have someone else trans-”

Kayla couldn’t hear Bertone’s answer, but the roar of sound told her that he was throwing a fit.

Poor Elena. Does he beat her when things go wrong?

If he did, he never left a mark on her perfect face.

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” Foley said. “I didn’t move a penny, you didn’t move a penny, and that leaves Kayla, who got here about a minute before me. That’s hardly enough time to log in, much less-” He stopped talking and listened. “She told me, that’s how. Wait. Let me check something.”

More sound and fury poured out of the cell phone when Foley set it down. Then silence. He put the muzzle of the pistol in Kayla’s mouth.

“If you make a sound,” he said, “I’ll kill you and take my chances with Bertone.”

Kayla understood that Foley was under the kind of pressure that made people crack apart like a dropped egg. She held herself very still, breathing around the pistol muzzle, tasting metal and something darker. Fear and the rage of a cornered animal fought for control of her mind. Neither won. Or lost.

Foley wiped his forehead, picked up the office line, and punched in three digits.

“Yeah, this is Henning up in Operations,” Foley said. “I was supposed to meet Kayla Shaw at her office a few minutes ago, but she’s not here. Can you tell me whether she logged in and when?”

He listened, nodded, and glared at Kayla. “Okay, thanks. She must be around here somewhere.” He started to hang up when the lobby guard asked him a question. “Oh, yeah, I came in from the executive garage,” Foley said easily. “Used the card lock on the service elevator.” He listened, then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know I was supposed to log in with you. I’ll stop by in a few minutes, soon as I finish with Kayla.”

He hung up.

Kayla watched the floor.

“You’re a real lying piece of ass, aren’t you?” Foley said, leaning on the pistol until she gagged.

Instead of killing her the way he wanted to, Foley yanked the muzzle out of her mouth and picked up the cell phone again.

“She’s been here for almost fifteen minutes, more than enough time to kick the transfer out.” He flinched, watched Kayla over the barrel of his silver pistol, and listened. “No, I can’t reconstruct the transfer. Maybe some ass-wipe geek in IT could, but I’m a big-picture man.” More listening. He glared at Kayla, set down the cell phone, and with no warning backhanded her again.

Kayla lifted her hands to block another blow, but instead of hitting her, Foley grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted.

“What did you do with the money?” he demanded.

She lashed at him with her left hand, curling her fingers over her thumb the way she had been taught by her dad, aiming for Foley’s throat as she surged up off the floor. He managed to block the blow, but had to let go of her to do it.

“Nothing, you bastard,” she said in a raw voice. “You get nothing from me.”

“I’ll kill-”

“Yada yada yada,” she cut in savagely. “I’m the only one who knows where the money is. Kill me and Bertone is broke. Is that what he wants?”

Foley stared at Kayla. He wanted to kill her so badly that he could taste blood. He made a fist, but picked up the cell phone instead. Killing her was Bertone’s privilege. He’d made that real clear.

“She’s done something to the money,” he said to Bertone, “but it will take a guy like Gabriel to get it out of her.” He listened, nodded. “Good plan. See you.” He punched out.

Kayla stood with a defiance that came from temper and fear. Fear, mostly. The more Foley talked to Bertone, the meaner her boss became.

“On your knees, bitch. Or do you want me to kick your feet out from under you?”

Slowly she sank to her knees again.

Foley stepped behind her.

She tensed against the blow she was sure was coming.

Cold steel slammed around her wrists, clicked, locked. Handcuffs.

Her heart turned over. She fought not to throw up, to keep her head, to think.

“Stand up,” he said.

When she didn’t move fast enough, he yanked on the cuffs, wrenching her arms, pulling her to her feet. A hard shove between the shoulder blades sent her staggering toward the door.

“Open it. If you scream, I’ll kill whoever hears it. And I’ll hurt you real bad. I’d enjoy that. A lot.”

Kayla took a deep breath and opened the door. No one in sight. No elevator doors opening or closing.

No point in screaming.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

A shove between the shoulder blades was her only answer. She staggered, straightened, and looked at the wall clock.

Time’s up.