The Hart Brothers Series Box Set (Including the bonus book Sabin: A Seven Novel): Freeing Her, Freeing Him, Kestrel, The Fall and Rise of Kade Hart, Sabin: A Seven Novel

by A. M. Hargrove

  How many more “messages” is Langston Hart going to send me?

  “Jack, I need some privacy, please.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He leaves and I look up DWI’s number. I ask to speak to Gemini or Drex. Drex comes on the line.

  “We may need to move this plan up.”

  “Gabby. What happened?”

  “He just murdered one of my best friends.”

  I hear his breath whistle as he lets it out. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Fuck no.”

  “I don’t mean mentally. I mean physically. Did you put a bodyguard team in place?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  He ends the call.

  Cara. Tough, brilliant, beautiful, witty, never-hurt-anyone Cara. Dead. At his hands. Fucking bastard.

  My door busts open and Case stands there.

  “How?” I ask.

  “Gunshots. Three to the chest, one to the head.”

  I’m afraid to ask but I have to know. “Do you think she suffered?”

  “No.”

  Closing my eyes, I nod. He will. I don’t care how. I’ll see that he does. I bend down and retrieve my messenger bag and handbag.

  “I’m going home. Come with me.”

  He follows me out the door, along with my human pillars. I’m seething and I don’t know what to do. I want to cry and scream and punch someone, but the one I want to take it out on is out of reach.

  Sky calls. She and Ryder are on their way over too. I call Sam and tell him he needs to put a team on both of them again, as well as Case.

  We all sit in the den. “I’m a bad-luck charm, guys.”

  No one knows what to say. It’s surreal, sitting here.

  “Did she have any family? Who’s taking care of her funeral arrangements?”

  Sky answers, “I think her parents are flying in from San Francisco. You know how they weren’t close. I guess they’ll fly her body home.”

  “We have to have a memorial service here,” I say.

  “You know what?” Sky says. “She wouldn’t want that. She would want us to go to one of her favorite hangouts and toast her to the heavens.”

  “You’re right. Should we at least talk to her parents?”

  “You could try. They might like you since you’re respectable. They never wanted to have anything to do with any of her friends because of her profession. She was nothing but trash to them.”

  Respectable? Me? Right. I’m the one responsible for their daughter’s death.

  My gut stings as guilt consumes me. Why did I invite them here? Because I was afraid to go out. Consequently, Cara is dead.

  My eyes lock with Case’s and he shakes his head. I think he’s telling me he understands my guilt. But how can he? He’s not the one who is responsible for this.

  “Anyone want a drink?” I ask.

  Case and Ryder laugh. Recovering addicts don’t drink.

  “Right. Sorry about that.” I say. “Sky, what about you?”

  “No, it’s a bit early.”

  I look at the clock—it’s only eleven in the morning. “Fuck! I feel like it’s midnight. Case, can you check to see when Cara’s parents are getting into town? I’d like to talk to them.”

  “Yeah. I’ll call my buddy down at the station.”

  “Can you see if they have any leads yet? Do you think you should mention Langston to them?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. Langston would have someone else do his dirty work,” Case responds. “But I’ll check on the leads. I doubt they’ll release that information to me though.”

  I think how much I wish I could go back in time and remove my connection with her. But it’s not possible. The monster took it and ran. I hope I get a call soon from Drex Wolfe so we can get this ball rolling.

  When I walk into the studio that evening, Kolson is there, waiting for me. Neither of us says a word; we just walk into each other’s arms. It’s the security I need. The strength. He walks me to the bathroom and helps me brush my teeth. Then he undresses me and we climb under the covers. This is where I let it all go. I’ve held it together like loosely constructed toothpicks, but I fly apart when he pulls me to his side.

  I’m not sure how much more of Langston I can take.

  The following afternoon, I arrange to meet Cara’s parents at their hotel. I’ve dressed carefully, wanting to send them a message, mainly that their daughter was not just a lowly streetwalker. I’m wearing a cream-colored silk blouse, a gray, knee-length pencil skirt, and black Christian Louboutin pumps. All designer brands, chic and expensive. I accessorize with a Hermes scarf and a Louis Vuitton handbag.

  Mr. Lee is cold and distant, nothing like his daughter. Mrs. Lee, on the other hand, looks as though she’s been crying. Her eyes are swollen and red, but her posture tells a different story. Is she too proud to admit it? Or is Mr. Lee overbearing and controlling enough to tell her to rein in her emotions? Cara rarely talked about her family and when she did, it was always with sadness. She said they were unsupportive and unloving and looking at the picture before me, it doesn’t take much imagination to see that.

  I introduce myself. They think I’m a prostitute, like Cara, but are shocked to find out their daughter was friends with a psychiatrist.

  “Why were you friends with someone like our daughter?” asks Mr. Lee.

  He is so arrogant, I immediately dislike him. Mrs. Lee raises a tissue to her eyes and dabs the tears that dribble past her lids.

  “Your daughter was a brilliant, caring, beautiful, wonderful friend. She was always there when I needed her. She was truly a special person. Whether you choose to believe it, Cara was not a streetwalker. You may not want to hear this, but she was a lovely human being.”

  My heart aches for Mrs. Lee. She feels the loss of a child and of a young woman she never got the chance to know and love. It’s etched all over her face. It’s embedded in her stiff movements and the way her body seems like it will break into tiny pieces at any moment. Mr. Lee, on the other hand, is standoffish and acts like an ass who cares nothing for the loss of his daughter or for the fact that his wife is grieving.

  “Ms. Martinelli.”

  “It’s Dr. Martinelli.”

  “Yes, well, our daughter sold herself to men.”

  “Richard, please. Cara was our daughter,” Mrs. Lee mumbles in such a broken manner, I’m not quite sure if I heard her correctly.

  “Well, she did,” he insists.

  “Yes, she did. But perhaps the reason she did so was because she never received any love or affection from you.” Mrs. Lee says.

  “I don’t care to be chastised by you right now,” Mr. Lee says.

  “And I don’t care to hear you disparage our daughter, either.”

  “I’d prefer not to hear it myself. She was one of my best friends.” I seethe.

  “You surprise me,” Mr. Lee says.

  “Oh, why’s that?”

  “You don’t seem like the type of person that would be friends with a …”

  I try to control my anger but it bleeds into my words. “You obviously didn’t hear a word I’ve said. I don’t choose my friends based on who or what they are. Cara was a beautiful person, inside and out. And it’s a shame you never allowed yourself the chance to get to know her. I would like to know the names of Cara’s younger sisters.”

  “Why?”

  Normally I would never do this—throw around the title, but he is so uncaring and haughty, I can’t stop myself. “Because as the CEO of Hart Transportation Services, I’m going to set up a memorial in Cara’s name in a home for abused women and children that will also be linked to a rehab facility. I’d like to fly them out for the dedication when that happens. We haven’t broken ground yet, but when everything is complete, I’d like to invite them to the ceremonies, since their sister will be honored.”

  Mr. Lee responds, “I don’t think they’ll be interested.”

  “Don’t you think that sh
ould be their choice, Richard?” Mrs. Lee asks.

  “Not really.”

  I interject. “It doesn’t matter. My security team will locate them.” And then I look at Mrs. Lee because I couldn’t give a damn about her pompous-ass husband. “Again, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Cara’s friends and I will miss her terribly. The world has lost one of its brightest stars. Good day.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kolson

  Langston is out of control, and I don’t know what to do. If I turn myself into him, I’m sure he’ll kill me and then go after Gabriella. I need more evidence on him, but all my information is old and leads to nowhere. If I could only get into his personal files, but everything I’ve tried has failed. All my efforts in hacking into the Hart Entertainment computer system haven’t worked. I am no expert, but I do know my way around a bit. Even though, I’m positive Langston wouldn’t keep his personal information on the company system. I have to figure out where it is and I think Gabriella is right. Kestrel may be the key.

  When I walk into Russell Investigative Services, there are bodyguards everywhere and they frisk me. They don’t recognize me, thank God, and I don’t recognize them, either. I hope to hell Tom has vetted these guys and they’re not on the dragon’s payroll.

  They escort me into Case’s office and when the door closes behind me, I sink into the chair across from him. We don’t speak for a while. Words are hard to come by.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Not really. This is all a bit much. How’s Gabs?”

  “Not good. She saw Cara’s parents late yesterday and was in bad shape last night. It’s why I’m here. We’ve got to stop him and I’m at a dead end.”

  “Don’t do anything, man.”

  “Case, I can’t sit by and allow him to murder innocent people.”

  “You think I can?”

  “No! That’s not what I meant! I need to do something.”

  “You try and you’ll end up in the damn morgue. And then how will Gabby feel? Have you asked yourself that?”

  I know people. I’ve studied them. I’m a whiz in business dealings. I worked with my father for years in the gambling business. I can tell when someone is hiding something. Case is hiding something from me.

  “Why, Case? What’s going on?”

  He refuses to meet my eyes.

  “Just lay low, man. There’s too much activity. Langston is trying to pull you out. Don’t you get it?”

  “Yeah, but there’s something else too, isn’t there?”

  The rapid blinking of his eyes, complete avoidance of eye contact, tugging the earlobe, scratching the nose, then the final clue, how he shifts his body away from me and faces the wall, confirms my suspicions. What is he hiding? I employ another tactic, just to doubly satisfy my curiosity.

  “So, how do you like your new team of bodyguards?”

  As I expect, he turns toward me and lets out a breath, “Not at all. I want my life back.”

  His relief at the change of topic is palpable. “Preaching to the choir, man.” But I’m not going to give up. “What the fuck are you hiding, Case?”

  The eyes tell it all. Every. Single. Time. And his just busted him.

  He drops his head into his hands. “I can’t tell you because I don’t even know myself. Please don’t ask me anything else.”

  “Tell me if Gabriella is involved and if she’s in danger.”

  “She’s not in danger, but if you don’t stay out of this, you will be.”

  “Goddammit. This is fucked up, Case, and you know it.”

  “Yes, I do. I love her too, you know.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  “Go home. And lay the fuck low. Trust me on this.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to have a little chat with Gabriella tonight. I can’t just ‘lay the fuck low’ and you know it.”

  After I walk out, I know damn well Case calls Gabriella before I even hit the front door.

  That night when I arrive at the studio, I’m greeted by a note.

  * * *

  You said if I wasn’t going to show up or if I had to go somewhere to let you know, so I am. I can’t be here tonight. Don’t worry about me babe, I’m fine. I’ll be back before you know it. I love you with everything I have.

  Yours,: G xoxo

  And I have a very, very bad feeling about all of this.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gabriella

  Drex Wolfe finally calls and now I almost wish he hadn’t. I’m charged with figuring out a way to meet him. How the hell am I going to do that, undetected, with my team of mountains following me around?

  Then, to my horror, Case calls and tells me about Kolson’s visit. Now I have that to worry about too. I ask Case if he has any blond wigs. He comes through and brings one to me at my office, along with a lunch I can’t eat.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to find a way to slip past my bodyguards and meet Drex.”

  “Think you can ride a scooter?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried. I’ve only driven cars.”

  “No gears. You just turn the key, start it up, and go. The throttle is on the right handle bar and you turn it like this.” He demonstrates it with his hand. “They’re a breeze. But you can wear a helmet with a visor. And leather.”

  “I’ll freeze. It’s December.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll disguise you. Dress warm underneath the leather.”

  When I think about it, with a blond wig, it may be perfect.

  Case adds, “Use the back stairs to slip past your bodyguards, like you’ve been doing, and exit through the garage wearing your helmet.”

  “Won’t I look weird?”

  “Not if I have a scooter parked right outside, waiting for you.”

  “What about security cameras?”

  “Take the stairs to the third floor or something and get on an elevator. Then take it to the garage level. You have all the codes to get in and out. They won’t think anything of it if you’re not doing any breaking and entering. No one is reporting any burglaries.”

  “Right.” It all makes perfect sense.

  “What time do you have to meet him?” he asks.

  “Seven.”

  “I’ll have it waiting for you. I’ll send the package with the leathers and helmet to the penthouse in a box, like a gift.”

  “Thanks, Case.”

  He gives me a brief run-through on how to drive a scooter and he assures me I’ll be fine.

  That afternoon, I get home early. Jitters have me fumbling everything and the butterflies in my stomach make me want to vomit. Lydia is there and wants to know if everything is all right. Of course it’s not, I want to scream. But I paste a phony smile on instead and tell her to take the rest of the afternoon off. She wants to hover but I can’t deal with that right now.

  I’m meeting Drex on the other side of the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City, New Jersey, and I need to calm myself before I go. When Lydia finally leaves, I unpack the box that was waiting for me, just as Case promised. Everything fits and with the wig and helmet on, I’m unrecognizable. I’ll have to dress in the office to slip by my one bodyguard that stays in the penthouse near the elevator. The others remain in the lobby.

  I know Langston’s men are out there and I pray I can maneuver that silly moped through traffic and make it to Drex and his men without being detected. Time crawls by but at six, I leave the apartment by way of the back entrance and take the stairs to the eighth floor. Then I hit the elevator and go to the garage level, all the while holding my breath. With the leathers and helmet on, the sweat trickles down my chest, dampening my clothing beneath the outer layers. I can feel my hair getting damp under the wig as well. I hope I don’t freeze my ass off when I’m on that damn scooter. It’s already dark out and the middle of December so it’s freezing outside. At least it’s a clear night and not snowing or sleeting.

  I hit the garage and walk with con
fidence, like I’m on a mission, which I am. When I hit the metal door that separates me from the outside world, I see the security guard. Instead of exiting through the large door, I exit out the other one, the one that requires the numbers on a keypad. He watches me and I nod at him before I walk through. I’m out.

  In front of me sits a black Vespa. Fancier and bigger than I’d imagined. There’s no time to worry about it. I climb aboard, turn the ignition, and drive away. There are men all around who look but don’t really pay attention. Maybe it’s because the hair hanging down to my waist is blond and they don’t think it’s possible for me to have blond hair. Dumb-asses.

  I head straight for the Holland Tunnel. I go down to 59th Street and take it across town. Traffic is heavy, as always, but it’s much faster to navigate it on this contraption. I find that I enjoy weaving in and out of the lines of cars. It makes me forget what I’m about to do. Oddly enough, I even begin to notice that Manhattan is decorated for Christmas. And it hits me that I haven’t realized the holidays are around the corner. Although Drex hasn’t shared a thing about the plans for tonight, I know I’m taking a huge risk. The sweat from my earlier case of nerves is now drying, chilling me.

  Horns honk, but I wave back at them and laugh. Perhaps I’m going a tad crazy. I reach the Henry Hudson Parkway and head downtown. I open this thing up and it picks up speed. My blond wig flies out behind me, but my head still sweats. This helmet is pretty warm. Up ahead I see the exit for the Holland Tunnel and I sigh in relief. I can’t believe I’ve pulled this off.

  When I enter the tunnel, it gives me the creeps. It smells like exhaust and makes me claustrophobic. Traffic is bumper to bumper and all I see are long lines of red taillights from the cars ahead. I don’t have time for this so I again weave to try to get ahead. The other cars don’t like it—drivers curse and honk at me. Someone actually throws an empty bottle. Asshole. I keep going. I can see the end ahead. Thank God. A few more maneuvers and I’m out.