Princess (American Princess #1)(44)
Author: Courtney Cole

“For God’s sake, Jillian.  I can’t see why that would matter.  She was just a whore that I dated a few times.”

“Yes, a whore that you apparently couldn’t live without.  You kept her under lock and key for God only knows how long.  Maybe you knew that if you didn’t lock her up, eventually she would leave you when she figured out that you’re a monster.” Sydney couldn’t help but to interrupt again, but Jillian wasn’t paying attention.

“It matters because I can’t trust you.” Her voice hardened.

Before anyone could react, she aimed her gun squarely at his chest and pulled the trigger at point-blank range without hesitation.

Harrison’s expression was astounded as he staggered backward against the granite counter.  “You bitch!”

He pressed his hands to his chest, as if to compress the bleeding, but it couldn’t possibly help.  The blood spurted over and around his hands like a fountain, quickly soaking through his pale gray shirt.

He started to say something else, but blood gurgled from his mouth before he could form the words.  He crumpled to the floor into a crimson pool, which quickly saturated the rest of his expensive clothing.

Sydney couldn’t breathe as she stared at the bloody body in front of her. Harrison’s eyes stared lifelessly straight ahead, seemingly right at her, so she closed her own to shut the image out.

“That fool.  As if I could have let him live anyway.” Jillian actually smiled as she stared at Harrison’s twitching body.  “Can’t you just see the headlines now?  ‘Senator’s wife is the sole survivor in a twisted love triangle gone bad. Hero detective dies in an effort to save her.’”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Stephen’s hand twitched, then twitched again.  He was slowly waking up, which he found curious because he hadn’t realized that he had gone to sleep.  He was lying flat on his back on the floor, which was also strange, because he had no idea how he got there.  The thick carpet against his back wasn’t unpleasant however, so he remained still for a moment, trying to grasp what had happened.  His memory was blank.

His eyelids were heavy and when he finally managed to get them open, the room surrounding him was blurry.  He squeezed his eyes shut and re-opened them, with only slightly better results. There seemed to be two of everything.  The deep yellow color on the walls seemed to create a golden haze around him as everything blurred together. 

He had been drugged. That much was obvious.  A memory came rushing back to him.

A fancy china teacup.

He thought harder, focusing on that teacup.  Jillian had brought both he and Tom hot tea earlier. He didn’t remember anything after that.  So, it was the tea.  Thankfully, he had only taken a few sips of it.  Judging by how woozy he felt right now, whatever was in it had been very strong.  If he had finished the cup, it might have killed him.

Across the room, in a plush wing-backed chair next to the fireplace, Tom sat with his head tilted straight back and his mouth hanging open.  He was snoring loudly, with a tea cup spilled in his lap. His wrinkled, calloused hand had dropped to the floor.

Stephen scanned the room with blurry vision.  He and Tom were the only two people in the room.  He heaved his body up into a crouched position, holding his head in his hands for a scant minute while he regained his balance.

He sat still, listening for noises coming from the rest of the house.  There was nothing.  He had no idea how long he had been out, but sunshine poured in through the windows so it was still afternoon.  He didn’t allow himself to be comforted by that.  Quite a lot could have happened in an hour or even a few minutes.  The quiet surrounding him was eerie and it completely unnerved him.  It made the large house seem like a mausoleum.

As quickly as he could, he pushed himself off of the floor into a standing position, leaning heavily onto the senator’s massive desk for balance.  His eyes focused in on the senator’s desk phone.  He picked it up.  Thankfully, there was a dial tone.  He realized that he hadn’t been expecting one.  He pushed the redial button with a shaking finger.  The effects of the drug were wreaking havoc on him.  He could barely even think straight. 

“This is Briggs,” a male voice answered.

“Is this the FBI?” Stephen whispered, as softly as he could while still being audible.

“Yes. This is Agent Briggs. Who is this?”

“This is Stephen James.  I’m calling from Senator Randall Ross’ desk phone.  He said that he called you earlier?”

“Yes, he did.  We’re en route to his property.  We should arrive within fifteen minutes.”

“That might be too late.  I don’t know what is going on, but Jillian Ross drugged me and it looks like everyone else, too.  I don’t know the whereabouts of the senator, his wife or his daughter.  But I do know that everyone here is in danger.  It looks like Mrs. Ross is involved in whatever is going on.  Just hurry.”

Without waiting for a response, Stephen replaced the receiver into the cradle of the phone.  His only purpose was to make the FBI was aware of the situation.  Now that they were, he could focus on the most important thing. 

Finding Sydney.

He crept as silently as he could across the room, checking Tom’s pulse.  It was steady and strong.  He shook the older man gently in an effort to wake him, but Tom wouldn’t rouse.  Stephen gave up and continued on to the doorway.  He glanced down the long hallway, but saw nothing unusual. Until he stepped out and almost tripped on Deidre.  She was lying directly parallel with the wall right outside of the office doorway.

Kneeling beside her, he rolled her over. But even before he could check for a pulse, he knew that she was dead. Her skin was still warm, but her green eyes were unfocused and fixated lifelessly on the wall. He drew in a ragged breath before tucking her hair behind her ear and closing her eyes softly.  There were no marks or blood visible on her, so he had to assume that her degenerated system had absorbed all of the drug that Jillian had fed her and it had killed her.

As he stared at her battered face, a wave of compassion flooded through him at the end that this poor girl had met.  She had fought for God only knows how long as Harrison’s captive, enduring emotional and physical abuse, only to be killed by drinking a cup of tea.  Adrenaline and fury began pumping through him and he lunged to his feet, charging down the stairway.  His vision was still fuzzy but he disregarded it.  He’d have to make it work- he was intent on finding Sydney before Deidre’s fate became her own.