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Colby Agency: Colby Justice Part 11

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She couldn't deny that charge. "Just let me go," she pleaded, "and I'll disappear. He'll never find me. I won't tell anyone. Ever."

"Sorry, that's not my M.O."

Penny braced. He was going to kill her.

"First, take off that suit."

Her stomach bottomed out. As if killing her wouldn't be bad enough...he wanted to do that first? Sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d.



"And if I refuse?" she challenged, determined not to make this easy.

"Then you'll die now."

Chapter Fifteen.

Second Floor air return duct, 3:05 p.m.

Ben couldn't do this.

No way in h.e.l.l could he leave Alexander to die.

He listened for noise in the corridor.

All quiet.

He eased himself forward enough to check both directions.

Clear.

"Ben, are you listening to me?" Jim Colby demanded. "Why are you back on the second floor? You are supposed to be headed for the fourth floor. What the h.e.l.l-"

"Steele," Ian Michaels interrupted, "there is-"

Ben removed the earpiece. "Sorry," he muttered, "I can't hear you."

He would get to the fourth floor. After he rescued Alexander.

Dropping the earpiece into his backpack, he retrieved his weapon. Checked the perimeter once more and climbed out into the corridor. He quickly shrugged the pack into place.

Just as he reached the corner where the side corridor intersected with the main corridor a sound stopped him. He listened as the soft, rhythmic thumps grew louder and closer.

Footfalls on the carpet.

Someone was coming his way.

Flattening against the wall to the extent possible with the pack on his back, he braced for battle.

A figure attired fully in black, a member of the enemy's team, came around the corner muttering curses to himself.

"Don't move." Ben had the weapon jammed against the man's temple before he had time to blink. "Hands away from your sides."

If this guy activated his com link...reached for the weapon holstered at this waist...

Things would get ugly d.a.m.ned fast.

Keeping the muzzle of his weapon pressed firmly against the enemy's skull, Ben grabbed the weapon from the utility belt with his free hand. "No sudden moves," he said for his prisoner's ears only. "No talking, and you might just live through this. Clasp your hands behind your back. Slowly."

Ben's trigger finger tightened ever so slightly as the man moved his hands into place at the small of his back. "We're going to make a little stop in the restroom," Ben advised with a nudge of the weapon's barrel.

"You won't get off this floor," the sleaze had the guts to warn.

"Maybe not, but neither will you."

The closest set of restrooms for the floor was only a few steps beyond the bank of elevators. Ben ushered the guy into the ladies' room, backed him against the nearest wall and pressed the muzzle into his forehead.

"Where's the woman?"

"Go to h.e.l.l."

Ben shoved the business end of the other weapon into the soft tissue of his chin. "I'll ask you again, where's the woman?"

"President's office," he growled through clenched teeth. "Reactivating the transfers."

"With your friend?"

He nodded once.

Ben reached behind his head, shoved the borrowed weapon into the neck opening of his suit since he had no pocket and couldn't take his eyes off this b.a.s.t.a.r.d long enough to put it aside. With his left hand free, he located the communications device clipped on the man's collar. Careful not to activate it, Ben pulled it free and grasped it firmly in his fist.

"Step away from the wall," he ordered his prisoner.

"They will kill you."

"They'll try," Ben said. "Take off your clothes and make it fast."

Fury tightened the man's lips but he didn't argue. Boots came off first, then the s.h.i.+rt, utility belt and trousers. The mask was dead last. Dark eyes. Blond hair. d.a.m.ned freckles dotting his cheeks and nose.

Not much more than a kid. Twenty-two or-three tops.

"Facedown on the floor." Ben waved the gun under his nose to remind him who was in charge.

"What's the problem?" the too young guy baited. "You can't shoot a guy while looking him in the eye."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Ben repeated. "Down."

The guy went down onto all fours, then reluctantly dropped flat on the tile floor.

"Hands behind your back," Ben instructed as he shrugged off the pack. Without taking his eyes away from his prisoner, he lowered himself to his knees at the guy's side. He placed the enemy's com link aside and fished the suit tape from the pack. With his teeth he pulled the end of the tape loose from the roll then one-handed, pulled the first loop around his prisoner's hands.

Not until he had a second loop did he dare to lay his weapon in the center of the guy's back so that both hands were free. He secured the jerk's hands tightly, then did the same with the ankles, finally attaching the two in such a way that it would be impossible for his prisoner to stand much less attempt a getaway. Lastly he placed a strip over his mouth.

Ben quickly peeled off his suit and pulled on his prisoner's discarded black uniform. The boots were tight as h.e.l.l and the trousers were barely long enough to tuck into the boots, but it would work. He placed the enemy's communication link on his collar and his weapon in the holster. Good to go.

Poking his own weapon into the back of the utility belt, Ben retrieved the earpiece from his pack and shoved it into his pocket. Before he headed out the door he donned the mask, then snagged the tape and shoved it into the cargo pocket on the right trouser leg. It just might come in handy when he got his hands on the second guy.

After a check of the corridor, Ben moved toward the office of the savings and loan president. He hesitated outside the door and listened.

"Now take off the bra," a male voice ordered.

Adrenaline crashed into Ben's arteries.

He wanted to rush in there and beat the h.e.l.l out of the guy.

But he had to think. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d could have a weapon trained on Alexander. He could fire that weapon. His com link could be open.

Though the latter was doubtful, considering what he was up to.

"Hardin! Where the h.e.l.l are you?"

Ben tensed. The question had come from the com link on his collar. Too loud.

The silence that lapsed in the room told him the other guy had heard the question as well.

"Cates!"

This time the angry voice came from inside the room. The other guy's com link.

"Where the h.e.l.l is Hardin?"

"He's on his way to you," the guy in the room said, clearly too afraid of his superior to ignore the question no matter that he feared trouble was just outside the door. "Maybe he ran into trouble on the way there. I'll check it out. I'm finished with the third floor."

"Report in as soon as you've found him," the voice roared.

More of that gut-twisting silence.

"What're you doing?"

Alexander's voice made Ben's heart thump harder. She was warning him that the b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the room with her was on the move. Thank you, pretty lady.

That she said nothing else-and the guy's failure to respond told Ben that Alexander had likely gotten a lethal glare for her trouble.

Ben leveled his weapon. Picked a spot that would be about eye level for the average guy.

Then...nothing.

Ben waited, his arm tense with holding his position.

What the h.e.l.l was this guy doing?

"You want her," the guy in the office with Alexander abruptly called out, "come and get her."

Seemed the guy had grown a brain, if not a backbone, in the past couple of minutes. He'd figured out Alexander wasn't alone. And that it wasn't his buddy Hardin in the corridor.

Since Alexander didn't call out another warning in the silence that followed, Ben had to a.s.sume the sc.u.mbag had a bead on her.

Ben counted one...two...On three he swung around the door frame and filled the open doorway, his weapon leveled on the first thing that came into focus.

Naked save for her bra and panties, Alexander served as a s.h.i.+eld in front of the man holding the gun to her head.

"Put down your weapon," the man ordered, "or she dies."

Fear trickled into Ben's veins. He immediately stanched the flow. "No problem," he said, infusing uncertainty into his voice. "Just don't hurt her. I'll do whatever you say."

Ben dared to move a step forward.

"Put it down!"

Ben held his hands out, his weapon no longer aimed at the enemy. "Okay, okay." Slowly, he bent his knees and lowered toward the floor. "I'm putting it down." Careful not to take his eyes off the guy, he lowered the weapon in his hand to the floor. "We're cool." Even slower, he pushed back up, straightened his knees, keeping his hands up just far enough to maintain the guy's confidence that surrender was his intent.

"Come over here." The guy hitched his head to his left. "Keep your hands up."

Ben moved forward, careful to keep his back to the wall and away from the man's watchful gaze.

"Stop right there," he said as Ben reached the edge of the big desk. "Facedown on the floor.

"Pull the phone line loose," he ordered Alexander as he pushed her away from him, "and tie him up."

Alexander removed the line from the back of the phone on the desk, then jerked it free from the wall. Ben lowered to his knees, hands still up, as she came around the desk, her eyes wide with fear.

Ben waited until she was next to him before he flattened his hands on the floor and leaned forward. He wanted her to see the weapon at the small of his back but not until she stood between him and the bad guy. She needed to see it first while simultaneously blocking the enemy's view.

Alexander dropped into a kneeling position, snagged the weapon and tucked it between her knees and Ben's side as she pretended to prepare his hands for securing together.

"Do it right," the enemy ordered. "Or I'll just shoot you both right here."

Ben kept his attention fully on the guy, despite the pulsing desire to look at Alexander...to somehow rea.s.sure her with his eyes.

When she'd loosely tied Ben's hands, she turned back to the man with the gun. "Is this okay?" She shrugged. "I'm not that good at this sort of thing."

When he stepped to the edge of the desk to see over her, she grabbed the weapon at her knees with both hands and pointed it at his masked face.

"Put your gun down," she ordered as she pushed to her feet.

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