Living on the Edge

by Susan Mallery

  “I’ll check into it.”

  “I can pay you.”

  He sipped his coffee. “I’m not questioning that.”

  Some of her tension eased. If Tanner would look after her father, she wouldn’t have to worry about him. Sure, Christopher needed Blaine in the short term, but for how long? And then what?

  “I hate this,” she said. “I hate that he’s in my life. Just thinking about him makes my skin crawl.”

  “For what it’s worth, he didn’t go to the police about me keeping you here,” Tanner said. “He also hasn’t tried to get in touch with me.”

  She let the news sink in. “If my ex-husband didn’t go to the authorities about you holding on to me, that has to mean something.”

  “It’s helping your case,” he admitted.

  “You’re a very stubborn man.”

  “I’m careful.”

  If he kept her alive, she wasn’t going to complain about his need to be cautious.

  “I’m going to go crazy here with nothing to do,” she said. “I think we should argue about my computer again.”

  He surprised her by smiling. “You willing to take me on?”

  She swallowed more coffee before offering a brazen, “Absolutely.”

  “What if you piss me off so much that I won’t help you?”

  She dismissed the suggestion with a shrug. “You kept me here and safe, even though you don’t like me. I doubt annoying you about my computer is going to make a difference. You don’t operate that way.”

  “How do I operate?”

  “I’m not completely sure, but I know you’re not slimy.”

  He studied her for several minutes before speaking. “I reserve the right to review your e-mail. I’ll also download your hard disk and look it over.”

  Relief swept through her. “Read it all twice, I don’t care. I just want to get back to work. I have a laptop at home.”

  “I figured. I’ll have one of my men stop by and pick it up. If you want anything else from the condo, write it down.”

  Madison held in a whoop of delight. When Tanner walked out of the kitchen, she found a pen and paper, then wrote out a quick list. She headed for the control room and hovered outside.

  “Here it is,” she said, holding it out for him.

  Tanner put his computer to sleep, grabbed the keys and stepped into the hallway. He took the paper and read it over, then nodded.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  He was leaving? She didn’t know if that was good or bad. “Okay.”

  “Don’t try to run away. Don’t try to go outside or into the control room. If you do, the alarm will be set off and I’ll be paged. You’re not going to get out of here without me, and if you try, all bets are off. Do I make myself clear?”

  As she had no intention of leaving, it was easy to agree. Five minutes later, he was gone and she was alone.

  When she heard the garage door automatically close, she walked directly to the phone and picked it up. Instead of a dial tone, she heard a computerized voice asking for her access code.

  “Why am I not surprised,” Madison murmured as she made her way into the family room and picked up the remote for the television. She was well and truly Tanner’s prisoner. It seemed like a good time to check out daytime TV.

  Tanner typed computer keys while Madison hovered impatiently in the hallway. He couldn’t see her directly, but he caught most of her movements out of the corner of his eye.

  “You’re bugging me,” he told her, not looking up from his work.

  “Could you be slower?” she asked with obvious impatience. “How long does it take to copy a stupid disk drive?”

  “It takes longer when you’re distracting me.”

  She pressed her lips together but continued her fidgety, shuffling almost dance.

  “I’ll have Internet access, right?” she asked. “You said I would.”

  “Yes. High-speed and everything. Your e-mail will be monitored.”

  “Whatever,” she told him. “It’s just work stuff. You’re not going to find me having cybersex with anyone.”

  “Good to know. I was more concerned about you telling a friend you’re in hiding. You’ll have to tell them you’re recovering from the flu at a friend’s house. Or staying out of town.”

  “Oh. Right.” She actually stood still for a full five seconds. “You don’t want our position compromised.”

  He looked up and glared at her. “This isn’t a war movie.”

  She gave him a cheeky grin. “Maybe not, but we do have a position to compromise. Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll take the secret information to my death.”

  “How much coffee have you had?”

  “Way too much. I was bored. I did lousy on all the game shows I watched while you were gone, but I got some great ideas for a faux finish for the kitchen walls on a decorating show. Want to hear?”

  “No.”

  He stood and carried her laptop to her. She grabbed it and clutched it to her chest.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said happily. “I promise to be a good little computer user.” Her humor faded a little. “Christopher won’t be able to trace me back here, will he? He’s kind of a computer geek. It’s a hobby with him.”

  “You’re untraceable. Even if he figures out a way to know when you’re online, any trace will turn up false addresses. As far as he and the rest of the world are concerned, this place doesn’t exist.”

  “Good to know. Seriously, thanks for this. I’m back in business.”

  She twirled in the hallway, then hurried to her room. Tanner watched her go. Her long hair fluttered out behind her and her snug jeans outlined the faint curve of her hips.

  She needed a good twenty pounds packed on her before she could escape being called bony, but she had some potential. Not that he would do anything about it. Number one, she wasn’t his type. Number two, while she was his responsibility, he wouldn’t try anything. Number three, he doubted she was interested in what he had in mind.

  Just as well, he told himself. Women like her made things complicated. He would bet a lot of money that Madison had never had sex just for the sake of it. That to her the act was as emotional and spiritual as physical. The thought of which made him tired.

  He returned to the control room and sat in front of his computer. While he would rather be beaten than admit it, he was starting to like her. She was nothing he’d imagined and nothing like other rich women he’d met. She seemed to have values and a sense of someone other than herself.

  Which could all be an act, he reminded himself as he began to type. Although he would know soon enough. A quick trip through her computer would tell him if her work was as important to her as she claimed.

  Stanislav was not a big man. Barely five foot eight with a thin build, he looked like the guy you pushed around on the beach. Christopher knew better. He’d seen the Russian cut off a man’s hand, fingers first, then the thumb, then finally slicing the rest off at the wrist. That man had stolen less than a hundred dollars from one of Stanislav’s gambling clubs.

  Now, as Stanislav walked around his office, picking up pieces of art, admiring pictures, Christopher felt sweat trickle down his back. He kept his attention on the smaller Russian man when he really wanted to stare at Stanislav’s very large, very stoic associates.

  “Very nice,” Stanislav said with only the slightest of accents. “I like your office. You find it very creative, yes?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. It’s great. But this is mostly for guests. I do the real work down in the lab.”

  Stanislav turned to look at him. The Russian’s pale blue eyes seemed to be made of ice. “By ‘real work’ you mean taking what I give you, taking our technology and pretending to make it your own.”

  Christopher swallowed, not sure what to say. “I, uh…”

  Stanislav waved him to silence.

  “You Americans,” he began as he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out
at the view of Brentwood. “You think you are so superior. That we are a backward country with no creativity. No spark. Yet who do you come to for your technology? Where do you try to buy the next big thing?” He turned and glared at Christopher. “Russia. Our scientists created the jamming device you want so badly. In their small back rooms and underground laboratories. We designed it, tested it and would have brought it to market.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Or maybe we would have used it on you. We could have flown here on radar-invisible planes and crushed you while you slept.”

  “You sure could have,” Christopher said, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking.

  Stanislav moved close. “But we did not,” he said from only a foot away. His pale gaze locked on Christopher’s face. “We became what we are today—a broken country going nowhere. For some, this is better. Better for me. In the new order I am a rich, powerful man. But not better for Russia. Still, what is done is done.”

  Christopher nodded as fear swelled inside of him.

  “I came to you because of your reputation,” Stanislav said, his voice low. “Because of who you were and the business I thought we could do together. I trusted you.”

  “I appreciate that,” Christopher said quickly. “I want to do what I can to keep that trust.”

  “Then where is the goddamn money?” Stanislav asked in a roar.

  Christopher flinched and stepped back. Instantly two of the three associates were at his side, holding him in place. He felt their strong fingers digging into his arms and knew he was well and truly trapped.

  “You think I don’t know what this technology is worth?” Stanislav asked, his temper back under control. “When your company finishes producing the first prototype, you will be able to jam any radar system in the world. This is power. This is the future. Your company will make billions the first year.”

  The Russian’s pale eyes narrowed. “And yet, on the verge of that, you try to trick me.”

  Oh, God. No! Fear turned to panic. “Not that,” Christopher said, picturing that other man and his hand. The blood and the screams as each finger was slowly cut off.

  “I’m not trying to trick you,” he said earnestly. “I would never do that. Never. I swear. I’ll get the money. I had a plan. A good plan. But somebody got in my way.”

  Stanislav stared at him. “What was your plan?”

  Christopher hesitated, not sure how the other man would react to the truth. The hands holding him tightened.

  “I kidnapped my ex-wife and convinced her father to cough up fifteen million in ransom.” There was no point in mentioning the five million he owed in gambling money.

  The Russian’s expression didn’t change. Christopher braced himself for the worst when the other man began to laugh. The associates let him go. The relief was so strong, it made his legs tremble. He forced himself to stay upright.

  Stanislav slapped Christopher on the back. “Your own wife? Good for you. You could almost be Russian. So what went wrong?”

  “The guy I hired turned out to be too good. His men intercepted the ransom money before I could collect it.”

  The humor faded as if it had never been. “For so intelligent a man, you make many mistakes,” Stanislav said. “I don’t like that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” If he got his hands on Tanner, he would kill him, Christopher vowed.

  Stanislav glanced at his men, then back at Christopher. “One week, my friend. Only because we have come so far and it would take time to find another buyer. But be warned. No more excuses. If you do not have the money in a week, I will kill you. But first I will make you wish you were dead.”

  Christopher believed him.

  “I’ll have it,” he said.

  Stanislav shrugged, as if to say it hardly mattered, then he walked out and his associates followed.

  Christopher sank down into the chair in front of his desk and tried to catch his breath. One week. What could he do in a week?

  Robbing a bank came to mind, and if he thought he could pull it off and get enough money, he would have started planning. But the outcome was too questionable. Better to go for the sure thing. Which meant Blaine Adams.

  They’d been talking about merging the companies. Obviously it was time to resurrect those discussions and then leak word to the press. That would be enough to push up stock prices. With the shares Christopher already owned of both companies and the options he had on his own, he might come close to his fifteen million.

  If he’d gotten his hands on the ransom, none of this would be a problem. Somehow, some way he would make Tanner Keane pay for that. And for keeping Madison. If the bitch was here, he could force her to sign over her shares to him. That had to be at least ten million.

  But she wasn’t here. She’d managed to convince Keane that she was the innocent in all this. That he, Christopher, couldn’t be trusted. He needed her.

  But how to convince her it was safe to come home? And if he couldn’t do that, how could he lure her out of hiding? There had to be a way.

  Chapter 7

  Tanner scanned the files in Madison’s computer. The work was fairly easy. She didn’t keep any financial records on the machine or use it for more than correspondence, setting up schedules, her appointment calendar and e-mail.

  He found that she’d told the truth about her work. She really did help kids with facial deformities. In her document files there were folders for each child she’d dealt with. The older files contained everything from copies of applications to travel arrangements and letters, including e-mails sent back and forth. There were also medical notes, follow-up reports and her own personal log of the child’s time in Los Angeles.

  He clicked on a file at random and scrolled through various documents. He stopped on an e-mail titled Big Fat Kissy Thank You.

  Dear Madison—You have been more wonderful than I can ever say. I mean, the dress was so huge of you, but then to have Miss Cissy come and do my hair and everything. Wow! Mom says she’s getting the pictures developed this weekend and we’ll send you some.

  I can’t believe I finally got to go to my first ever dance. Brice was really cool and he brought me a corsage and it was so romantic. He even kissed me good-night.

  Before, when I met you, I never thought a boy could ever like me. I was too ugly. But you said my life would change. You said I would be beautiful and you were right.

  I love you so much and I don’t know how to say thank you for what you’ve done. You’re the best. I hope you have lots of kids of your own so you can love them just as much as you love me.

  Your friend, Kristen.

  Tanner stared at the screen for several seconds before closing the file. There was a response from Madison, but he didn’t read it—he didn’t need to. From what he’d seen so far, she was the genuine article. Someone who cared.

  How was that possible? How could someone like her—rich, privileged, spoiled—ever look past her own small life into someone else’s? She’d told him the story of seeing the woman and her child crying on a bus bench, but so what? How many other people had simply hurried by?

  He turned in his chair to stare at the security screen. The dot that represented Madison sat motionless in the center of her room. No doubt she’d already logged on to the Internet to collect her e-mail.

  In the past thirty-six hours, he’d pushed her, bullied her and threatened her. She’d taken it all and had come back for more. He’d yet to catch her in a lie. Maybe, just maybe, she was exactly who and what she said.

  He wouldn’t have thought it was possible. Beauty, brains and integrity?

  His computer beeped. He glanced at the screen and saw a flag for outgoing mail. He’d already warned Madison that he would be monitoring her e-mail and he’d meant it. Now he clicked on the icon, then opened the file and scanned the letter she’d sent to her boss at the charity.

  The text was innocuous. Madison claimed an ongoing family emergency kept her from her work, although she would be in touch via e-mail. S
he attached several open case files, asking for updates and offering to help in any way she could from home.

  He read the e-mail twice before sending it on. There was a second letter to her assistant, asking for information on a burned toddler who had been brought out here for surgery.

  Tanner sent that one on, as well, then continued his check of Madison’s hard drive. At this point, he didn’t expect to find anything, but he believed in being thorough.

  Madison felt her spirits rise with each keystroke. After nearly two weeks of being out of touch, she felt great to finally connect with her kids and her staff.

  She sat propped up on the bed as she dashed off a couple of e-mails explaining that she would continue to be away from the office for a while. One of the pluses of not being a paid employee was that her boss couldn’t actually complain if she, Madison, had to be gone. Madison figured it was better to keep the story vague than to explain she’d been kidnapped.

  Next she went through her in-box and sorted through the letters from children. She liked to stay in touch with her clients, hear about their lives and the positive changes brought on by reconstructive surgery.

  There was an e-mail from Thomas, a little boy scarred by a gunshot. He told her all about his visit to his grandmother’s house and how he played with the other kids in the neighborhood and that none of them made fun of him.

  Madison touched the screen of her laptop and wished she could hold the precious child in her arms. If she ever got tired or frustrated or unhappy with her life, she only had to read these letters to have her world put back in perspective. If she—

  Tanner walked into her bedroom. She glanced at him and was surprised when her heart gave a little flip of happiness.

  Wait a minute. What was up with that? She couldn’t possibly be attracted to Tanner. Sure, he was tall, dark and dangerous, which made him the female version of catnip, but so what? He despised her and she only wanted him around to keep her alive. They weren’t about to get involved.

  Before she could figure out what was going on, he stalked to the bed and threw several pieces of paper at her. She grabbed one and stared at it.