style="font-size:15px;"> “Never stand in the way of a determined man. It will never end well.”
The retort formed but the words lodged in her throat as Lange gestured Alex forward with a quick flick of his fingers. The small bag of who knew what slammed into her stomach with the force of a battering ram, and Violet doubled over, her breath rushing out as pain radiated through her midsection. Before she could catch her breath or even stand, Alex had the sap in motion once more, swinging it down over her hunched shoulders with swift efficiency.
She screamed, the sound barely echoing off the thick furnishings in the room as pain—sharp and dark—rolled through the upper part of her shoulder and down her rib cage.
Tears welled, choking off her air as she fell to her knees. Trembling, she lay on the ground, only to be dragged forward with a hard snap on her wrist. Another layer of pain met the first, and it was only when she lifted her head and registered the thin blade of Alex’s paring knife slicing her forearm that she nearly gave in to the black that swam behind her eyes.
Through sheer force of will, she dragged her bleeding arm away while swinging out with her free fist, slamming hard into the only area she could find purchase—Alex’s shin. The move was enough to push the man off balance, even as another layer of agonizing pain ran the width of her bruised shoulder.
Alex righted his footing and leaped toward her once more, but Lange held out a hand, stopping the man’s progress. “Enough.”
“Hardly.” The menace layered in that single word was sharper than his blade, and Violet refused to stay on her knees. Rising to her full height, she shot Lange a dark look. “I thought you didn’t play with your prey.”
“Persuasion isn’t play.” Those reptilian eyes stayed flat, even as they skipped around the room. “And since you’ve had quite a bit of alone time in here, I’m sure you’ve been planning and plotting. So Alex’s demonstration was a firm reminder to stop.”
Words were on the tip of her tongue—something, anything—to give herself the upper hand she was so used to holding, but she held them in.
“Excellent. Since we understand each other, I will be back in the morning with a fresh set of clothing. Then we’ll go to whatever bank you’ve secured your ruby in, and we will retrieve it.”
Whether it was her lack of retort or a simple need to punctuate his point, she didn’t know, but the hand that swung out and connected with her cheek was swift and immediate.
And had Violet dropping once more to her knees.
“Are we clear, Miss Richardson?”
Although it pained her to utter even that small acquiescence, Violet knew some battles weren’t won via a direct attack. “Yes.”
* * *
The long cut on her forearm still bled, and Violet had finally given in and ripped off the sleeve of her suit jacket, using the thin silk lining as a bandage. Wads of toilet paper made an appropriate layer of protection over the wound, and she avoided thinking about the sting as she continued to settle and resettle herself on the bed.
She knew Lange was ruthless, and she now had several large bruises as an indication of just how far he would go.
And how soulless he really was.
It had been only after long hours of painful pacing that she realized the injuries might work in her favor. She’d run that idea through several lenses, wondering how she might make the appropriate plea with bank personnel.
Or convince them she needed help without putting any additional people in danger.
A casual shrug of her sleeve before revealing the wound Alex had inflicted? A rush of the counter, begging the employees to call the police? There were many ways to create a diversion, but when she imagined the bank lobby of the branch she’d used, she continued to discard each and every one.
Although the bank maintained a shielded teller line, the outer offices were all unprotected. Add on any civilians in the bank and she was putting a lot of people in danger for a gem she had no interest in keeping. Even if the thought of giving Reed’s stepfather what he wanted violated every ounce of decency and goodness she possessed.
Tripp Lange had killed for stones. Repeatedly. They were nothing more than rocks, mined from the earth and given some ridiculous layer of significance by small-minded individuals.
Lilah had discovered the legend of the Renaissance Stones as she came to understand the gems better, and Violet had filled in the gaps with some quick online research.
The stones were originally one stone, mined by the Dutch East India Company in the late seventeenth century and reputed for both its size and exquisite, flawless beauty. It was subsequently cut into the current trio, three rubies of near-perfect quality, all designed to rest in the crown of a king or queen. After its discovery, the stone was brought to a jeweler in Antwerp for cutting. The man was then murdered barely a week after the stones left his possession.
She’d read the history from there, the quiet battle between the Dutch and the English for rightful ownership of the pieces. The wave of misery the stones left in the wake of all who came in contact with them. It hadn’t taken long for whispers of a curse to accompany the legend of the stones, and although she’d originally shrugged off the silliness of that line of thinking, a glance down at her arm had Violet reconsidering.
They’d had nothing but trouble since the stones were recovered. Three men—that she knew of—had been murdered at Lange’s hand, and his other assistant was killed during the showdown with Reed.
While she was more likely to believe human greed and avarice were at the heart of the stones’ mythic power, she couldn’t fully disregard the depth of what had already happened.
Or the fact that Tripp’s behavior had escalated as he continued to get closer and closer to the jewels.
Pain was a steady accompaniment as she struggled to a sitting position once more. The man already had one stone. He likely had it on him, somewhere in the house. If she could convince him to bring it along to the bank, she could use that to her benefit.
The idea tumbled around in her thoughts and she twisted it, turning each facet as she tried to determine what to do. The stones were large for jewels but relatively small as individual items. Lilah had hidden hers inside her shoe, so the relative size was modest.
Everything she’d understood so far about Lange indicated he was enamored of the pieces, so much so that he’d be likely not to leave the stone behind. Would he carry it in his pocket? Or inside his suit jacket?
With the first real glimmer of hope since she’d awoken in the dim room, Violet realized she could use that knowledge. He had to get her out in the open if he wanted her stone. And when he did, she’d observe his movements and get a read on any area of his body that he focused on with surreptitious pats or subtle favoring.
And then she’d strike.
All she needed was enough motion to get the gem off his person, and she could put it through the window of the bank’s teller line. The bulletproof glass had small openings across the line so people could slide their transactions to the teller.
She needed to be sure of her motions and she had to move quickly but she could use that small window.
