“No more drugs. That was necessary to ensure I could get you here. Now, let me see your arm.”
“Where is here?”
“It is nowhere—not on any map. Not inhabited by anyone other than the people in this house.” He glanced at her and his gaze drilled deep into her soul with an icy point. “There is no way to escape. No land within hundreds of miles. No way to leave without being seen.”
He reached his hand toward her neck and fingered the collar. “I would suggest you not attempt to leave this room—not even to take a walk in the yard—without asking permission. There is an electric fence across the front of the lanai that will send a signal to me that you are attempting to leave. And it will send quite a shock to this device around your neck—and not a pleasant shock, I assure you.”
Her heart sunk. Helplessness shrouded her like a heavy cloak. “So, I’m your prisoner?”
“You are my guest, and as long as you are a good girl, and follow the rules, no harm will come to you. Soon, I hope you will consider this your home. I want you to be happy here.”
She snorted. “Yeah, and then what? You’ll take me out on the water, slit my throat, and wait for the sharks to come?”
His eyes widened in horror and he shook his head.
“Some other inventive way you are planning to kill me?” Mia asked. “Keeping it to yourself so I’ll be surprised?”
“No,” the man said and stood. “You hate surprises.”
Mia stared at the man as he left the room, turning at the door to smile at her through the black mask. How could he possibly know that? Not many people knew her well enough to know how she loathed surprises. Even Ben had no idea.
So how did this guy know?
Chapter Ten
The trip to Norfolk felt longer than the three hours it took for Lance, Riley and Ben to drive there. Ben tried to close his eyes and sleep—something he hadn’t been able to do since learning Mia was missing from the courthouse—but his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman he loved. He could picture her so easily. It was almost hard to believe she wasn’t sitting next to him in the backseat of the car. He loved everything about her; the way her auburn hair turned fiery red when the sun hit it, the tenderness of her lips when they kissed, the sound of her laugh. He missed her as much as if he were missing a vital organ. She was more than just a part of his life, she was integral to his survival.
“What do we know about the Truxton Corporation?” he asked Riley, who was sitting in the front passenger seat.
She opened a manila file and flipped through a stack of papers. “One of the oldest shipbuilders in the US, run by Russell and David Truxton—brothers. They inherited it after their father died. David Truxton is the head of their global operations, and spends ninety percent of his time traveling to meet clients around the world. We have confirmation that he has been in Australia for the past two weeks.”
“So, he didn’t take Mia,” Lance said from the driver’s seat.
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t have something to do with her disappearance.” Ben leaned forward to get a better look at the documents Riley held. “What about the other brother?”
“Russell runs operations here in Norfolk. The company is a major producer of destroyers, aircraft carriers, and battleships—they were just awarded a new DOD contract to build a nuclear-powered fast attack submarine for the Navy.”
“If Truxton is involved with the RRA, there are a lot of ways to fuck with US interests aside from laundering money like Hutton did,” Lance said.
Ben scrubbed at the two-day old growth on his jaw. One of the perks of being in a special operations unit was the option to grow facial hair. “They could sell technology to the RRA who could then either give it to Russian intelligence, or sell it on the black market to other countries like Iran, who would love to have access to that kind of intel.”
“What do we know about his personal life—background info? Any known ties to Russia?” Lance asked.
“Not obvious ones.” Riley read from one of the documents. “Married for forty-three years to his wife, Lydia. She is a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Ancestors are from England. Russell Truxton was born in Norfolk and has never left. They have one son, Russell K. Truxton. Currently lives with his parents. Thirty-years-old, works in the family business when he’s not getting into trouble with the law. Latest was a stint for aggravated assault.”
“Pleasant guy,” Lance said.
“Entitled rich kid.” Ben had known the type while he was growing up. Rich parents typically meant they would buy their kid out of trouble when they first start acting up. All that accomplished was to teach them they can do whatever they want and get away with it minus any consequences.
Apparently, not even Daddy’s money could save the younger Truxton from doing some time.
Riley’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and answered it. When she disconnected from the call, she said to Lance, “Letz is at the Truxton’s estate. He’s going to wait for us before he goes in to talk to Mr. Truxton.”
“Looks like we are about five minutes out,” Lance said.
Letz leaned up against his agency-issued car. Lance pulled up behind him in the driveway of the Truxton estate. A large craftsman style house rose up before them. Ben guessed it was one of the original mansions built in Norfolk. Grass fighting the winter dormancy to stay green reached to the tall trees that bordered the property. Ben could just make out the dock behind the house that stretched out over the Lafayette River.
Lentz took a long drag from his cigarette and ground out the butt on the asphalt as they approached him. The group ascended the stairs to the landing. Before Letz could knock, the door was opened by an older woman with a severely tight bun that must have hurt, judging by the scowl on her face. Either that, or they were not welcome at the Truxton home.
Letz and Riley flashed their credentials and introduced themselves. The woman opened the door wider and allowed them into the house. The foyer was open to the second floor, with polished wood floors. They were escorted showed into a large living room. Everything in the room was stark white—walls, carpet, furniture—except for the baby grand piano that sat in front of the magnificent picture window. A frail woman sat on one of two couches that flanked a fireplace. A tall man with white hair that matched the theme of the room stood next to a mini-bar. He glanced at them and put his crystal tumbler down before pouring anything into it. Must have changed his mind about having a drink.
“Mr. Truxton, I’m Special Agent Letz,” he said and shook the man’s hand. “Riley Bray, Lance Knight, and Ben Wells.”
“Please call me Russ.” Truxton gestured to the woman on the couch. “My wife, Lydia.”
They all nodded at the woman in greeting.
“I’ll get right to the point, so we can get out of your way and you can enjoy the rest of your day,” Letz said. “Can you tell me why you were in DC at the federal courthouse two days ago?”
Truxton’s eyebrows scrunched together over the bridge of his nose. “You must be mistaken—I haven’t been to DC in a couple of months.”
“Can anyone verify your whereabouts for the last four days?” Letz asked.
“He’s been here the whole time,” Mrs. Truxton piped up. “He didn’t leave Norfolk.”
“No offense to you, Ma’am, but we will need someone other than you to confirm your husband’s activities.”
“What’s this all about?” Truxton asked, his face reddening.
“A vehicle rented by the Truxton Corporation was found abandoned in the parking garage of the federal courthouse two days ago.”
Truxton’s cheeks puffed up and he blew air out through his mouth. “Any of my employees could have rented the vehicle under the company’s account. We have a lot of business dealings in DC—I’m sure one of them rented the vehicle.”
“Is there anyway we can discover if that’s true?” Letz asked. “And if so, who might have been in DC at that time?”
&nb
sp; “Yes, I can check with my secretary and have her find out who from the company was in DC last week and rented the vehicle.”
Letz nodded and tapped his finger against his lips. Inhaling noisily, he said, “The issue I’m having is the person that rented the vehicle was Russell Truxton, according to the car rental company. How do you explain your name and signature appearing on the contract?”
Truxton’s eyes widened just slightly and his gaze flitted over to his wife. She was twisting her fingers in a strand of pearls around her neck. Her face had gone almost as white as everything else in the room. “I—I don’t know. I can only tell you it wasn’t me who took possession of the car. I was here the entire week.”
“Are you associated in anyway with Senator William Hutton or the Hutton Foundation?” Letz asked.
The sudden change in interrogation gears threw Truxton. “What?” He shook his head. “No.”
“Never donated money to the charity?”
“No, never. I have never met Hutton, never donated money to him or his foundation. I have nothing to do with that mess.”
“What about Mia Rowland?” Letz asked.
Darkness shadowed Truxton’s eyes. He swallowed, the movement seemingly harsh. “I have nothing to do with her, either.”
Ben glanced at Lydia Truxton. She had her head down, staring at the carpet, wringing her hands.
They’re lying…
Letz’s phone rang. He checked caller ID. “Excuse me, I need to take this,” he said and stepped out into the foyer.
Truxton moved over to the couch and sat next to his wife. She looked up at him, her eyes huge and wet.
Ben glanced around the room. How could people live like this? The room was as cold and uninviting as a mausoleum. Everything was perfect—too perfect. Ben preferred a comfortable home that invited relaxation and laughter. Ben wandered over to the window and look out over the river. Next to him, the baby grand had a few framed pictures on display. In one, Mr. and Mrs. Truxton had an arm around a younger man with blonde hair and a smirk on his face.
Must be the wayward son.
Was he somehow mixed up in this mess? Perhaps his parents were covering for him. Was he a member of the RRA? Or had dealings with Hutton?
Ben got the distinct impressions the Truxton’s knew the answers to his questions, but were in ass-cover mode for their son.
The clock was ticking like a bomb about to detonate in Ben’s chest. With each passing minute, the chances of finding Mia alive dwindled.
Chapter Eleven
The tray of food sat on the round table on the lanai. Mia inched closer, trying to gage whether or not she should risk eating it. She didn’t want to be drugged again. A long, loud groan of protest sounded from her belly. She was hungry—and unable to remember the last time she had eaten. Hell, she had no idea how many hours, or days, had passed since she had been taken hostage.
A white gauzy curtain blew in the breeze from the ocean. Mia tucked it around the tie back on the doorframe, quietly pulled the chair out and sat. The main course was a large salad with grilled scallops and pineapple. She could see chunks of mango and avocado mixed in, as well. All her favorite things. As if someone had made the perfect salad just for her. The smell of sea salt floated on the air in a fine mist that coated her skin. She picked up the fork and knife and cut into one of the scallops, a groan of satisfaction slipped from her lips as the buttery bite hit her tongue. Her brain shut down, and she didn’t think about the consequences of the food being laced until she had eaten every morsel on the plate, and devoured the small glass cup of coconut sorbet.
Sitting back in the chair, she rubbed her full belly, and decided the food was going to be its own drug. Sleep would be a welcome distraction from worrying about Ben and the team, and whether she could warn them before they walked into a trap. Her day had consisted of pacing back and forth across the room, staring out over the ocean, and becoming as familiar with her surroundings as she could.
The massive expanse of grass was bordered by giant palm, coconut, and banana trees. The parts of the ocean that she could see where far away, and she figured she must be high on a cliff. All the more treacherous to attempt an escape—and succeed with her life. The lanai had privacy fencing on the sides, making it impossible for her to see what was on the either side of her. And she had been warned there was an electric barrier across the front of the lanai that would send an electric shock to the collar around her neck if she attempted to step off the patio area.
Walking back into the room, she raised her arms over her head and stretched. A yawn escaped from deep inside. She curled up on the bed and stared out into the increasing darkness of the night as the sun finally set over the horizon. Sleep beckoned her, and she let it pull her into its depths. Being fully rested was the only way to come up with an escape. Nothing would be gained by hashing out a plan in the dark. She needed the light to see where she was and where she could get away. She needed her captor to trust that she was not a threat, and would not attempt to leave. She needed to get out of this room and see the rest of the house, find some way to communicate with Ben, and warn him about what was waiting for him.
The sound of the ocean reminded her of the mini-vacation she and Ben had before she was sequestered for the trial against Hutton. They had rented a cottage in Pensacola on a semi-private beach. Luckily, in the fall, the tourists had gone, and there were not a lot of people around. Ben and Mia had been able to take full advantage of being the only ones on the beach most nights.
One night in particular was especially romantic and Mia drifted off to sleep dreaming of the way Ben had gathered up a blanket, a bottle of champagne and two glass flutes. The beach was right outside the large glass sliding doors of the cottage, but Ben led her down to the waters edge and spread out the blanket.
“The blanket is going to get soaked if we set it here,” Mia said.
“So what,” Ben responded. “It’s not our blanket.”
Mia stared at him until he glanced up at her and laughed. Placing a hand on her hip, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. “Don’t worry…I promise I will hang it out to dry when we get back to the cottage, my little non-rule-breaker.”
Mia stuck out her bottom lip. “It’s not that I can’t break rules, I’m just selective about the rules I break. I like to assess the risk versus the benefit before I make a decision.”
“Me, too, and I have determined that if the blanket is ruined, I will buy a new one. But I am not letting this perfect night, on this perfect beach, where we have perfect weather and a bright full moon, go to waste simply because a blanket might get wet.”
He plopped down on the blanket and reached his hand out to her. “Get your cute little butt down here and sit next to me.”
Mia sat down, and snuggled into his side. “Okay, bad influence, I will go along with your plan without fussing.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “And thanks for the ‘little butt’ comment.”
A broad smile crossed his face as he sent the cork of the champagne bottle flying through the air. Mia guessed he planned on them drinking the entire bottle, or else that was going to be a waste without anyway to place a stopper back in the top.
He filled on of the glasses, handed it to her, and filled his own. Twisting the bottle into the sand so it wouldn’t tip over, he tipped the edge of his glass against hers. A melodic clink rang for a couple of seconds sending a barely perceptible reverberation through her hand.
“Here’s to life’s unexpected craziness,” he said, and took a sip.
“We certainly have had our share of that,” she said, and took a sip from her glass. The cool sweet liquid hit her tongue, the bubbles dancing and tickling all the way down her throat, the aftertaste leaving her mouth dry. “Do you regret it?”
“What?” he asked, drinking nearly half the glass in a single swallow.
“The craziness that seems to surround me?” She gazed into his gorgeous blue eyes, and inhaled the scent of the sea, allowi
ng it to bolster her confidence. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go down this road. What if he surprised her and told her he did have regrets?
“No, not one second of it,” he said. “No way could I ever regret the events that brought you into my life.”
Warmth nearly melted the block of doubt that sat like ice in the center of her chest. “It’s only going to get worse before it gets better. The trial is coming up. Even if Hutton is put away, I may never be free from the RRA coming after me.”
“And we will face it together.” He refilled her glass, then his own.
She set her glass aside in the sand and grasped his free hand. “My life is going to be chaotic and insane and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to bail—”
He tossed his glass into the sand, and grasped the sides of her face with his hands.
“No amount of chaos or crazy men or unknown future events will ever keep me from loving you. I’m here—with you, by your side—no matter what happens. I don’t care if I have to swim across oceans, walk through fire—or leave the team—I will gladly do any and all of them if it means I am with you.”
Her breathing quickened and she felt light-headed, not from the champagne, but from his words. From the force behind them. By the way he looked into her eyes, her soul, letting his love wrap around her heart and squeeze it so tight it made her breathless.
“I don’t know what to say—how to explain to you how much I love you,” she whispered.
With his hand at the back of her head, he lowered her down until she was lying on the blanket. His knee slipped between her legs, encouraging her legs apart. HIs lips hovered above hers, so close she could almost feel them. Almost taste them. A low whine slid past her lips, desperate for the warmth she craved from his kiss.
“You don’t have to say any words,” he said. “Show me.”
Lifting her head, she pressed her lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth because she knew it drove him insane with want. “There is nothing I would rather do than show you how much you mean to me.”
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