by Riser, Mimi
Damn him. What was he thinking? There was a ten-year-old boy in danger. Her boy. How could she sit here doing nothing?
Carlotta nailed André with a sharp look. “Put down that camera before I strangle you with the strap. You said you wanted to help!”
“I am helping!” He puffed up like a rooster and waved his arms. “I have rescued Cinderella from her prison! I will help more when I know who for her I must duel.”
Duel?
For the first time, Molly noticed he was wearing a sword in a sheath at his side. How comforting. Not. She stamped down panic as an argument erupted in every Romance language known to man, plus a few of the Baltic variety. This was like being “rescued” by a foreign film festival.
The twins let go of her to stare in rapt fascination at the flamboyantly gesturing pair. At least Carlotta and André had distracted the kids from their upset. Unfortunately, they were increasing Molly’s. Too little time, too much volume.
She raised her hand. “Silencio, por favor!”
The hand slapped over her mouth. Whoops. That had been way too much volume.
“Excusé moi,” she said softly as two sets of dark eyes flashed, startled, to her.
André beamed her a broad grin. “You speak Spanish and French? C’est bien!”
No, muy stupido.
Molly coughed. “Um, not really. Just a few words.”
Just enough to make an idiot of herself.
She took a deep breath and faced Carlotta, wondering how much she dared ask, wishing she had more time to think things through. But she didn’t, partly thanks to Tyler. Once again he’d given her no choice. They ought to be working on this problem together, but in refusing to discuss it, by locking her in here, he’d locked her out of the whole loop.
It looked a lot like he didn’t trust her. So how could she trust him? Whatever he was planning now, she wasn’t part of it. That was taking a big risk, wasn’t it? The note said she had to deliver the ransom. No one else. Just her.
Which was risky, too, Molly knew that. There were no guarantees the kidnapper wouldn’t grab the ransom and try to kill Stevie and her anyway – the key word there being try. She wasn’t an easy target. For that matter, neither was Stevie. Too bad Tyler hadn’t let her explain that. Since he couldn’t deliver the ransom without her, she could only assume he planned on not paying it at all.
A horrible thought. She hated even considering it, but what was she supposed to think at this point? There seemed only two possible reasons why he’d locked her in. Either he was trying to protect her. Or he was protecting his damn wealth.
Her stomach knotted. If Tyler didn’t at least pretend to follow the ransom instructions, what alternatives did that leave him? The fax had specified no police, and there was no time to bring in the law anyway. He had his own security force, so he could try some sort of commando raid rescue on his own. Which sounded absolutely ghastly. He could try to negotiate, which sounded almost as bad. Or he could sit on his hands, hoping the kidnapper was bluffing. Which didn’t sound like Tyler at all. The commando raid was more his style. Charge in, hit hard, and hope for the best.
Too dangerous.
She took another fast glance across the hall. Tyler’s door still stood closed. Just like his mind. She could pound on the door and make him open it, but could she pound through his stubbornness afterward, make him listen to reason? She had a better alternative she could offer him, but if he didn’t accept it, wouldn’t trust her, she’d lose her chance to try it, period. How could she risk that?
I can’t.
No choice.
Her gaze returned to Carlotta who stood staring at her with concern. “Look, I know I’m asking a lot, but there’s a serious problem.”
“So I see. You look awful. What can we do to help?” Carlotta reached out a hand.
Molly grabbed it and hung on as she spoke. She was about to get all of them in a lot of trouble, possibly. The term “grand theft” sprang to mind, with Carlotta and André as accessories to the crime.
I should look awful. I’m an awful person for involving them.
But maybe she could get this deal over and done with before Tyler was any the wiser. If he wasn’t going to pay the ransom himself…
“First, I need someone safe to mind Jeremy and Josh,” she said. “There’s…something I have to do, and I can’t leave them here alone.”
“We could take them to Leila and Piper’s room,” Carlotta offered. “The twins know them already, and the girls will be happy to help. They love children.”
“Admiral Byrd, too!” Jeremy piped up.
“He’ll get lonely without us,” Josh added.
Carlotta patted his head. “Of course we’ll take the Admiral, too.” She shot André a look. “Get the bird.”
André heaved an elaborate sigh as he moved to pick up the covered cage. “A beast of burden, that is all I am.”
“Just ignore him. He loves to fuss,” Carlotta told Molly with a wink. Then her gaze turned serious, searching. “But what is this something you must do?”
Molly managed a weak smile. “The less you know, the better probably. Also, um…little pictures have big ears, if you catch my drift.” Her gaze flashed to the twins. They had devised their own ideas on the matter, but didn’t know the truth, and she didn’t want them to.
“I think Stevie ran away. Maybe he took Uncle Tyler’s plane and is flying to Disney World,” Josh had told her. “That’s where I’d go if I ran away.”
“Me, too,” Jeremy had agreed. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t take us with him.”
“I don’t either, sweetie,” Molly had answered honestly.
Why had the kidnapper taken only Stevie when all three boys were together in the same room? And where were Fluffy and Fang? There was more than one mystery afoot, but she couldn’t solve any of them standing here. And she certainly couldn’t discuss them in front of the six-year-old twins.
With an understanding “Ahh,” Carlotta nodded. “So, what else do you need? I know there must be more.”
She could say that again. But bless the woman for not asking questions when she must be bursting with them. Carlotta was quite a lady. Molly squeezed her hand, drawing comfort from the warm grip.
“Well, second, I just need some information. Do you know where a place called ‘the dugout’ is?”
“The dugout?” André perked up and rattled off something to Carlotta in their multi-lingual jargon.
“Yes, that’s it,” she answered him in English. “It’s the ruins of an old pioneer dwelling here on the property,” she explained to Molly. “They called them dugouts because they were built into the earth with only the top few feet above surface. A very clever design, primitive but practical, very interesting. André has been wanting to see it. I promised to show him while we were here.”
“Could you show me tonight?” Molly tried to keep her tone casual, innocent.
Carlotta wasn’t fooled, but she controlled herself admirably. Her eyes widened only a second before narrowing with the unasked questions.
“Tonight, eh?” She glanced down at her stiletto heels. “Very well. But it’s a bit of a hike, ten or fifteen minutes over rough terrain. I’ll have to change my shoes.”
“No!” Molly almost choked, then caught herself, swallowing down the flutter of fear. “Um, I mean, I just need you to tell me where it is. I can go alone.” She had to go alone.
“No, you can’t.” Carlotta looked quite definite about that. “Sorry, but you’ll never find it on your own in the dark. I’ll have to come with you.”
“I also!” André declared. He looked definite, too.
Molly sighed. They weren’t going to cut her any slack here, and there was no time to argue the matter. “Okay, but you’ll have to stay way back out of the way when we get there, or this will never work.”
“We shall be…discreet,” Carlotta promised.
They’d better be. But bless her again for not asking what the “this” wa
s.
Two small hands tugged on Molly’s shirt.
“We wanna go, too!” the twins demanded in unison.
They would.
Molly pried their fingers loose. “You can’t, munchkins. You have to stay and keep Admiral Byrd company. He’ll get lonely without you. Remember?”
The boys pouted but didn’t persist. They knew that look in her eye meant “the subject is closed.” No one could control the James boys the way Aunt Molly could. She felt a brief twinge of almost-pity for the kidnapper, wondering how he was making out with the one he had. Her guys were a handful, and she’d taught all three some of the tricks she knew – not the magic kind either (before she’d become a Wiccan and investigated the magical arts, she’d practiced the martial ones). The twins were just beginners, of course, but Stevie was pretty formidable for his age and size. Given the chance and enough provocation, he could inflict painful damage.
If their captor had done likewise, however, she’d give the creep a lot more than pity. They’d have to ship him home in separate sacks when she was through. She might be a tender-heart, but don’t mess with her kids.
Molly set her jaw, mentally preparing for the coming confrontation. She motioned for the others. “If we’re going to do this, we’d better get moving.”
She was as ready as she’d ever be. While waiting for Carlotta, she’d changed into a black sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes in preparation for the trip. She hadn’t known before what the dugout was, but common sense dictated it must be someplace on the Ranch, and probably in a rugged area. It always was in the mystery novels.
With a last sad glance at Tyler’s closed door, she grabbed Jeremy’s hand in her left and Josh’s in her right, and headed down the hall.
“We’ll need flashlights,” Carlotta said, falling into step beside her. André followed with Admiral Byrd, the first grumbling, the second mercifully silent because his cage was covered. “We can pick up a few on our way out. I know where they keep high-beam torches for outdoor use.”
Molly faltered in mid-step. “There’s something else we need, too.” The biggest something, and there was no easy way to say it. She girded her loins and just spit it out. “Do you know where Tyler keeps his diamonds? I need to…borrow them for a bit.”
“Ai dios mio,” Carlotta said.
Hopefully, that meant yes.
Chapter 11
“George Farrell? Our PI?” Barry blinked. “And Molly?” He collapsed into the chair Tyler had just vacated, looking a lot like he had that day way back in Marine Corps basic training when his rifle backfired on him. “And just how did you arrive at that brilliant conclusion?”
Tyler didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, and he didn’t have much time for an argument, but Barry would hound him till he got one. Given his tenacity, “Bulldog” might be a better nickname for him than Beanpole.
May as well get it over with.
It was 12:15. Tyler had already changed into black for a night attack. He could make it to the dugout in five or six minutes if he hauled ass and cut through the gully. That gave him nine minutes to hash it out with Barry, and he could still be there a half hour before the appointed time, for a little reconnaissance. If the jerkshit was there waiting, Tyler would take him by surprise. If not, he’d be the one waiting. And still take the son of a bitch.
Feeling grim, he perched on the edge of his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and rattled off the reasons, trying not to notice how the knife in his gut cut deeper with each one.
“First, Farrell usually sends me his reports by fax, and he always hand prints them in black marker. The guy’s got a thing for Sharpies.”
“So do lots of people, I’m sure,” Barry countered. “Circumstantial evidence.”
“You know, it’s times like this I really hate your law degree.”
“Keep talking. The clock’s ticking down, Oh-Great-Jumper-to-Conclusions.”
Tyler resisted the urge to jump down his assistant’s throat. “Second, the note specifies that Molly deliver the ransom. Of all the people here, why her?” His voice went cold and so did the pain inside him. “So the two of them can run off with the ransom and the kids?”
If that was jumping to conclusions, it wasn’t a very far leap, not when you added it to the other clues, like that crack about giving him one hour to decide – an awful mimic of what he’d told her – and the way her attitude toward him had shifted so abruptly. Why? To keep him distracted tonight while the kidnapping occurred? That thought gave the knife an extra twist. He’d suspected something was up the minute she entered his office, all sultry looks, all tease…and that damn T-shirt. She’d distracted him all right.
Capping it off was her evident fear when the twins had shown up. Real fear, he’d been sure, but fear of what? That one of the boys had been taken? Or fear that something had gone wrong because two of them had been left behind?
Call it jumping to conclusions, call it intuition, call it whatever the hell you wanted. The clues still added up. Once the fax came through, he’d guessed the set-up instantly, but he couldn’t explain all of it to Barry. There was no time for an in-depth postmortem of his most recent romantic mistake, and Tyler didn’t have the stomach for it even if there were. He should have guessed even sooner. You’d think his mother would have taught him this lesson years ago. Never trust a woman. The ones you cared about the most always hurt you the worst.
No, he wasn’t going to get into that. Not now. Probably not ever. Just stick to the straight facts in this case. They were damning enough on their own.
“We can be sure Farrell knows Molly,” he said, “since he was busy investigating her this past week.”
“True. But she shouldn’t have realized that if he did his investigating as carefully as he usually does,” Barry pointed out. “There’s no reason to suspect she knows him.”
“There’s no reason to think she doesn’t, either. Farrell could have contacted her at anytime to arrange this with her. He knew she wanted the kids. He knew I was looking for reasons to keep her away from them. And I know the guy is a money-hungry—”
“Ty, coming from a billionaire, that sounds a little hypocritical. What? Other people aren’t allowed to want wealth?”
“If you want me to talk, quit interrupting.”
Tyler blew out his breath in exasperation. Yes, he had billions, but he’d earned them honestly, worked damn hard for his current fortune, and he supported a hell of a lot of people on his payroll. He supported plenty of charities, too. They might be good tax write-offs, but they did good work as well. He wasn’t in it just for himself. He wasn’t George Farrell’s ilk.
“You know what I mean. I use Farrell because he’s good at his job, but let’s face it, he’s no paragon of integrity. When he’s not playing PI, he’s always got some get-rich-quick scheme.”
“So? What do you care what he does with his spare time?”
“I don’t, normally. But I doubt my refusals to invest in his schemes have endeared me to his heart. Revenge and greed are both powerful motivators. He could have seen this as his one clear shot at hitting it big, with a little payback thrown in for fun. He’s always said that one day he’d make me invest in him.”
“Yeah, he has, but I always figured he meant it jokingly.” Closing his eyes, Barry leaned back in the chair, laced his fingers together over his middle, and steepled his thumbs. His thinking pose.
Tyler’s jaw clenched at the sight of it. He could almost hear the grinding of the wheels in that tricky, tawny-haired head. He started counting, silently, giving him till ten to speak.
The hazel eyes opened on six. At least Beanpole thought fast. “Okay, it’s a little flimsy, but you’ve made a possible case for Georgie-boy being the culprit – though I honestly don’t think kidnapping is his style. Conning Las Vegas showgirls who’ve made a killing at the craps table would be more to his taste. However, just for the sake of argument, let’s say it’s him. That doesn’t prove Molly is involved. Why would she do som
ething to jeopardize a child she obviously loves? For that matter, if Farrell wanted to play kidnapper, why didn’t he grab one of the boys before they were here? Wouldn’t that have been simpler?”
“No, because that would have made it a real kidnapping. This is a con. That’s why it’s set up to move fast. That’s why he demanded diamonds instead of cash. He knows I always have some on hand for emergency funds, and that saves him having to wait for the banks to open. He’s hoping I won’t have time to think or react. And Molly is involved because he convinced her it was the best chance she had of keeping the kids.”
Scowling, Tyler glanced at the clock. 12:21. In three minutes this discussion was over, one way or another. He had an ass to kick, and the recent reference to Farrell’s eye for the ladies only added more lead to his boot. He could just imagine how the bastard had coerced Molly into this deal, preying on her feelings for the boys.
And using that slick charm of his as well?
What did they think they were going to do after they had the ransom? He knew what Farrell was thinking. Hell, in his shoes he’d be thinking the same thing: Take the loot and the lady.
The only question remaining was what Molly thought. Did she want to go with Georgie-boy? Money and the kids might have sounded good to her before, but if money and the kids were all she wanted, she didn’t need Farrell for that now. She could have more by marrying the kids’ uncle.
Except, she’d refused that option.
She’d made him sign that blasted contract instead.
Why? To buy time till the “kidnapping”?
She could have accomplished the same thing, and more easily, by agreeing to the marriage. It’s not like the wedding could have happened instantly, and she only had to hold off several hours.
For the first time since the fax, a flicker of doubt lit the dark thoughts.
Barry saw it in his eyes and fanned the flame. “Now that we’ve discussed your theory, you wanna hear mine?”
“Do I have a choice?” Tyler sighed.
