by Edie Harris
“Never,” he vowed, and it was true. He didn’t keep secrets from her. It was one of the great joys of having found the person with whom he’d spend the rest of his days.
“Toby.” Leaning in, she nipped his chin, and he responded by squeezing her backside, reprimand for reprimand. “Perhaps it’s you seeking the distraction. Worried about Adam and Casey, yeah?”
His head fell back on the pillow, eyes closing. “Yeah,” he echoed. With each passing day, he felt less and less in control. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Casey, because he did. No one alive was better able to rescue Adam. Mostly it just seemed impossible that they were once again in a situation where a member of their family was imperiled. Adam’s life hung in the balance, but so did Casey’s. So did his, and Gillian’s, and Beth’s. Vick and Chandler, Gavin and Della, Pippa and Keir and Freya. His parents. Every last one of them was under siege by forces unseen.
Who would be next? This was the fear that kept him awake at night. So maybe Chandler was right, and he wasn’t distracting her so much as himself.
Dropping a quick kiss to his throat, Chandler disentangled their limbs and rolled off the bed, and then he had to sit upright so as to watch her naked ass as she sashayed into the bathroom. Light filled the doorway, and seconds later the shower turned on. That she’d left the door open was, clearly, an invitation.
One he had every intention of accepting. Kicking aside the sheets, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, already feeling a slow lick of heat low in his belly—
His cell rang.
With a sigh, Tobias reached for it on the bedside table, glancing at the name flashing across the screen. “Casey.”
“I found Adam.”
Tobias hit speaker and left the bed, reaching for his trousers. “I’m listening.” As Casey gave him the run-down of not only where Adam was being kept but also their brother’s condition, Tobias moved from the bedroom to the main living area, to the desktop computer placed beneath the window overlooking Hyde Park. Dawn was creeping over the horizon, bathing the green landscape in shades of pink and blue. “Hold on—did you say auction?”
“You heard me.” Casey’s voice was grim, his breathing slightly rattled, indicating he was walking somewhere, and quickly. “Based on what Adam told me, it sounds like invitations have been kept completely off the grid. I’m talking literal word-of-mouth RSVPs. I can find out the when and where before Friday, but we might have a problem getting in the door.”
“When has a door ever stopped us in the past?”
“Good point.” A heavy sigh. “I could’ve gotten him out tonight, Tobias, but the damn kid wouldn’t let me.”
Tobias tapped out a message to Della, asking her to give him a call when she woke up. “Explain.”
“I...shit. Shit, shit, fucking—”
“Casey.”
“I’ve got a kid. A daughter. With the woman from the marriage certificate.”
Tobias froze. “A daughter.”
“Yeah. Arlo. And...and my wife’s name is Ilda.”
“Yes, I saw that.” Shoveling a hand through his disheveled hair, Tobias exhaled slowly. “Let me guess. Adam found out about Arlo, and Ilda, and refused to let you rescue him if you weren’t also rescuing them.”
“Bingo.”
“Which leaves us with this auction nonsense.” Familial revelations aside, this was the issue they needed most to address. Tobias logged into their private server and began clicking through their financials. “We’ll need to be prepared to actually purchase Adam, which means either an untraceable wire transfer or untraceable cash. You know better than I what sort of an ask Pipe would place on an opportunity like this.”
“In the hundreds of millions, easily.” Casey’s anger was a palpable thing. “Maybe edging into the Bs.”
Billions. Well, that would be more difficult to allocate without attracting an auditor’s notice, but Tobias could drain a few personal accounts. The business wouldn’t take a hit, and they’d get Adam back in one piece.
Not to mention, they’d be able to hold it over his head that they literally owned him. That kind of sibling negotiating power was priceless.
Allowing himself a small, wry smile, Tobias typed out notes to himself, action items he’d need to accomplish between now and the auction. “We’ll fly in Friday morning, somewhere rural outside Medellín, since no doubt Pipe will be monitoring the airports. Who do you want in your tac team?”
“Henry and Finn, if you’ve determined they’re not our moles. Vick. Chandler.”
That had Tobias pausing. “You want Chandler?”
Casey made an irritated noise. “She’s hella smart, quick on her feet, deadly as fuck, and for some reason loves you, which means she’s one of us. So yeah, I want her on my team. I don’t have time to protect your fancy ass at that auction.”
“I can watch my own fancy ass, thank you very much.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, people shelling out billions of dollars have bodyguards. She’ll be yours.” Casey grunted. “And then when shit goes down—because of course shit will go down—she’ll be handy to have around.”
Tobias scrubbed a hand over his face, vaguely noting Chandler’s shower shutting off. “I think I’ll refrain from passing along that you find her ‘handy,’ if you don’t mind.” He paused. “You sure that’s all you want? Just four?”
“Okumura will need to keep the jet prepped, so... I guess that makes five. Oh, and Axel Moreno is down here, which you probably already know. Six.” A beat of silence passed. “It won’t just be Adam we’re taking home. You know that.”
“I know.” Casey may have entered Colombia entirely unencumbered, but he’d be returning with a wife and child. The lucky bastard. “Though to be clear, as your license was never filed with the Colombian government, you’re not legally married. You’ll have to have the ceremony all over again in the US.”
“Then we’ll do it again,” Casey growled. “And this time we’ll do it right.” More movement in the background, what sounded like branches whipping by. “Let me know when you’re in-country. I’ll keep checking in, on the off-chance I have an opportunity to get all of them off the property before the auction.”
“Will do.” Tobias ended the call, leaning back in his chair as he stared out the window. It was quite a view, he had to admit. An oasis in the middle of a metropolis, the dips and swells of treetops casting shadows over the paths winding through grassy planes. He’d realized not long ago that no place, outside of the Faraday compound, had ever felt like home to him. Having spent more time in hotel rooms than in any one place, that wasn’t surprising.
What did surprise him was how, from the moment he had leased this place, before Chandler moved in and before he’d bought it outright, these big windows and tall ceilings and wooden floors had given him peace. Part of it came from knowing that this was Chandler’s city, and Chandler’s job would keep her here indefinitely. He’d needed to be near her, even before he’d known with any certainty that she would be with him.
So perhaps it was really Chandler who made it feel like home. Her presence, both inside these walls and out, made this flat and this city the place he truly belonged.
Now he just had to help get the rest of his family home in one piece. Then maybe he could breathe a little easier—and turn his full attention to figuring out which ring would end up on Chandler’s finger.
The padding of small bare feet sounded behind him. “Baby.”
“Yes?” He typed one last note to himself, ready to move toward the kitchen and make them both a cup of coffee.
“No.” Chandler’s voice trembled. “Baby.”
When he turned in the chair, it was to see Chandler in a green towel, damp hair clinging to her cheeks and neck, holding a white plastic stick. Holding it, and staring at it like it might combust at any second. “Sweetheart?”
“I’d wondered, yeah? After the Fadel House party, and we...with no condom...” Her wide eyes lifted to his. “So I bought a t
est, but I didn’t think it would... I mean...no. No.”
A lump formed in his throat as he stood, slowly, and approached her where she leaned against the wall. “No?” He couldn’t seem to do anything but respond with questions, at a loss for words as he never at any time in his life had been before.
Chandler’s shoulders lifted in a jerky shrug, water droplets still clinging to her creamy skin. “I love you,” she said, husky voice panicked.
He closed the distance between them, sliding a firm, reassuring hand around her nape. “I love you.”
“I’m pregnant.” She stared up at him, wild eyed, and turned the plastic stick around to show him the undeniable plus sign. “We’re pregnant?”
Gently, he took the stick from her and slid it into his pocket. His hand slipped from the back of her neck to the base of her spine, pulling her into an embrace, his other arm wrapping securely around her shoulders. Her cheek rested on his chest, her body tense as hell, but with each passing second, she relaxed in his hold. Eventually, a heavy breath shuddered from her lungs, and her arms looped around his waist, melting into him.
His mind raced. They needed to make an appointment with an ob-gyn right away. Well, first he needed to vet potential ob-gyns and run federal background checks on them, then they would make an appointment. She’d need vitamin supplements, and, knowing his mother, Sofia Faraday would want to weigh in on such matters. This flat wasn’t big enough for a child, with only the single bedroom, but it shouldn’t be too hard to purchase the other three top-floor flats, blow out the walls and turn this into a massive penthouse suite. If he got a contractor in here this afternoon, there was no reason the renovation couldn’t be done in a few short months. Then they’d have enough room for his entire family to stay when they visited, and if Chandler got pregnant again—
Oh, God. Chandler was pregnant.
Dropping to his knees, Tobias buried his face against her flat, toned belly, covered by the soft nap of the towel. “We’re pregnant,” he murmured, confirming her question. “Chandler...are you—?”
“Happy, Toby. I’m happy.” Her fingers sifted through his hair, petting him in soothing strokes. “Terrified, but happy.”
Just when he thought he could not possibly love her more. He gripped her hips and tilted his head back to stare into her heart-shaped face. “Don’t think I’m not scared, too. But...are we ready for this?”
“Ah, Toby. Remember who we are.” Her smile positively glowed as she fisted the hand in his hair, the tug on his scalp a gentle admonishment. “So long as you’re with me, ready doesn’t begin to describe us.”
Chapter Fifteen
Casey had a bad, bad, very fucking bad feeling about this.
It was Thursday night—nearly a week since Adam had been taken, one day since Casey had last laid eyes on him...one arduous day since he’d been buried deep inside Ilda, halfway down the path to forgetting his name and saying good-goddamn-bye to the entire reason he’d come to Colombia in the first place. Casey stood along the wall of the hacienda’s spacious formal dining room, his skin crawling with foreboding as he watched Pipe and his brigadiers share a splendid supper with the entire inner sanctum of the Orras cartel.
Pipe, his brigadiers, their mortal enemies, and Ilda.
Under normal circumstances, Casey would never have been permitted to attend such a function, surprise though it was. But hours earlier, Pipe had called and demanded Casey not only show up, but that he stand off to the side in the room, closer to Ilda than any of the other guards.
For a moment, Casey had wondered if this was some sort of punishment or a malicious, taunting test. Put the object of his most fervent desire in front of him and tell him he could only look but never touch. Then his brain clicked back on, and he was able to read between the lines.
He was there to protect Ilda. If something went wrong—and how could something not go wrong in this situation—Pipe knew Casey would throw himself in front of a bullet for her, when any other brigadier would lunge to shield Pipe. Somehow, Casey had become Pipe’s best bet for keeping Ilda alive in a volatile situation, the only person the drug lord trusted to put her safety first.
Except Casey didn’t understand why Ilda was here to begin with, not when all of his senses were pulling an Ackbar, screaming, It’s a trap!
For the past hour, he’d stood silently off to the side, unable to keep his gaze locked on any one thing—not even Ilda. She was so beautiful, his stomach hurt. Hair twisted into an intricately looped coil pinned tight to the back of her head, she looked elegant and surprisingly serene, at least on the surface. Her black silk jumpsuit flowed over her curves, leaving her shoulders enticingly bare, with only a hint of cleavage in the halter’s modest V-neck. Beneath the long table—a table reminiscent of some medieval English lord’s—her feet tapped nervously in their red stiletto heels, the candy-apple shade a match to her lush, painted lips.
Pipe’s engagement ring glittered on her finger, making a mockery of everything Casey knew in his heart to be true. Of what he believed, deep down, Ilda knew, as well. Hell, she’d told him as much—right before he came inside her.
But this dinner was odd. Uncomfortable. Wrong. Casey feared it had more to do with his presence on the hacienda grounds than any of them realized. There was every possibility that Pipe had already tied Adam to Arlo, Arlo to Casey, and Casey to Adam. Every minute spent here, holding tight to his cover, put everyone he loved in jeopardy.
Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough.
The staff moved inconspicuously in and around those seated at the table, removing dinner plates, refilling wineglasses and placing delicate dessert dishes in front of everyone. Conversation dwindled to the occasional low murmur, and eventually Pipe cleared his throat. “The tension in this room, my friends...perhaps I ought to tell you why I called for this détente?”
Laughter greeted his charming grin, Pipe falling immediately into the role he often played so well—that of the genial businessman who’d risen to great heights in the global power game. “Ciro, have you shared our story with them?”
Ciro Orras, the grandfatherly kingpin of the Orras cartel, a spry eighty if he was a day, exhaled deeply, the sigh of a man settling in for a long and no doubt exaggerated tale. “Once upon a time, I was a much younger man.”
Pipe laughed as though genuinely amused. As though he wasn’t staring down the individual responsible for his first fiancée’s death. “If that’s where you’re starting, we’ll never get to the end.” Leaning his elbows on the table, he took in the interested gazes of the various cartel members. “Some of you may know, some of you may not, but back when I was merely a youthful venture capitalist, it was Ciro Orras who recruited me to play financier for the People’s Army.”
The People’s Army, otherwise known as FARC. When Casey had first been sent undercover, it was because the CIA wanted to know how best to destabilize the money flow that kept FARC alive. But while inside the Marin cartel, it had become apparent to Casey that a majority of the cocaine trade coming into the United States via the coastal ports was not from multiple Colombian and Venezuelan sources, as had been believed, but originating from lands and facilities owned solely by one Felipe Marin Donado. That information, provided by Casey to his agency, went a long way toward changing how the DEA and Interpol viewed Pipe’s activities.
The Orras cartel, on the other hand, focused primarily on money laundering—or had, until four years ago, when Pipe had decided he wanted the majority share of that pie, as well. He’d poached Ciro Orras’s business, cartel business, and after a particularly lucrative coup, Ciro had decided to strike back.
“He taught me everything I needed to know to grow into the force I am now,” Pipe continued. “One to be reckoned with, wouldn’t you say?” There was a murmur of agreement. “I wouldn’t be the man I am today without Ciro’s guidance...though perhaps he’d prefer if I didn’t credit him quite so much.”
Ciro chuckled good-naturedly and waved him off, leaving Casey t
o wonder if he’d stepped into some alternate reality, where old grievances were not merely forgotten but perhaps had never existed at all. Too bad Casey couldn’t shake the sticky feeling in his gut.
“One value Ciro instilled in me, above all others, was to cherish one’s family.” Pipe turned to Ilda with a faint smile, the gleam in his dark eyes calculating...and cruel. “At this moment in time, I can say I am the luckiest of men, with this beautiful woman who will soon be my wife and our young daughter sleeping upstairs.”
The reminder of Arlo’s vulnerability, one floor above his head, set Casey’s teeth clenching. This was an impossible situation, his need to protect stretching him like taffy, until he’d hardened in this mutated form where he could no longer bend. He wanted to take Ilda from here, Arlo too, and Adam from the stables. He wanted to be home, surrounded by his family, with no danger looming on the horizon.
“But four years ago, I could not see past my grief. The love of my life, Théa Almeida, had been taken from me in an act of senseless violence.” Pipe shook his head. “How far I’ve come. How far we all have come.”
“It was senseless,” Ciro admitted hoarsely, settling a paternal hand on Pipe’s forearm, his expression regretful. “And I have wanted for years to say how sorry I am that the situation...escalated, as it did. The intent was never for your Théa to die, merely a scare, to send a message to you.”
Pipe appeared to believe that about as much as Casey did—which was to say, not at all. Théa and her driver had been stopped on their way home from the rehearsal dinner, three vehicles belonging to Orras brigadiers barricading them in. Moments later, Théa had been dragged from the car, forced to kneel on the ground and shot in the head alongside her driver. The Orras blue colors were draped over their faces, an undeniable message.
