by Karen Rose
‘Was it?’ Thorne asked levelly.
Another shrug. ‘Yeah. Just like the one that killed your girlfriend the year before. Scared the shit out of me. So I kept quiet. Call me a coward, but I had kids to feed.’ He looked around him morosely. ‘Not anymore, though. They’re in college, and when they come home, they stay with their mother.’
‘You’re divorced,’ Gwyn said softly. ‘When?’
Another salute. ‘You’re smart,’ he said with undisguised admiration. His eyes dropped to her breasts again, then jerked back up to her face when Thorne growled. ‘My wife left me right after his trial.’ He pointed at Thorne. ‘I’d started drinking. Partly because I was so damn scared that truck would come after me or my kids. Partly because I knew I’d stayed silent to save my own skin and I was ashamed. So, now you know it all. I won’t share this again. With anyone.’
‘Got it,’ Gwyn murmured. ‘Okay. Thank you for your honesty. You take care of yourself, okay?’
He nodded, but didn’t move from the recliner. ‘You can show yourselves out.’
Gwyn rose and left, Thorne close behind her. ‘That was enlightening,’ he murmured when they were back in the hall, headed for the stairs.
‘Yeah. I’m thinking we’re not going to find his old partner. If he’s still alive, he’s reinvented himself as someone new.’
‘I agree. You were good in there. Thank you.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Come on, let’s get back to the van so you can stop looking around for ninja assassins.’
Because he was, his eyes constantly circling, checking the corners for anyone lurking. ‘Fine,’ he grunted. ‘And for the record, I really don’t like assholes like him checking you out like that.’
Surprised, she could only stare up at him as they made their way down the stairs to the lobby. ‘I . . . I wasn’t provoking him.’
He shot her a startled glance. ‘I know that. Did I say that?’
‘No.’
‘I never even implied it, and if I did, I’m sorry. I just meant that I don’t like it. It’s disrespectful.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘And I wanted to rip him apart for making you feel afraid.’
‘I wasn’t afraid.’
He glanced down. ‘No?’
She smiled up. ‘No. I knew you were there.’
The taut line of his jaw seemed to relax. ‘Good,’ he said as they exited the apartment building. The sun was bright and Gwyn stopped abruptly, dropping her head to keep the glare from her eyes while she searched her handbag for her sunglasses.
Then it all seemed to blur. Glass shattered and she was suddenly being launched to the grassy area to the left of the sidewalk. She coughed when Thorne landed on top of her, nearly suffocating because her face was buried in the grass. She struggled, her protests coming out as muffled noise.
The weight pressing her into the ground receded as Thorne braced his body on his forearms. ‘Stay down,’ he barked. ‘Somebody just shot at us. At you.’
What the fuck? Her breath was coming faster, warm against her face because the pocket of air was so small. Thorne. He was vulnerable, all six and a half feet of him. She wanted to throw him off her, to drag him to safety, but she couldn’t move and he wouldn’t budge.
Behind them, a vehicle gunned its engine and approached. How? They were at least fifty feet from the parking lot. It came to a screeching stop on the sidewalk, and suddenly Thorne’s weight was gone, and Gwyn was scooped up in strong arms and all but thrown through the open side door of Jamie’s van. She landed on the floor between the front and middle seats, pain streaking up her back.
‘Hurry!’ Jamie barked.
Thorne climbed in behind her and the van sped away before he could even close the door. It shut automatically and she could see a white-faced Phil looking around wildly, his cell phone in his hand. He’d called 911 and was on the line with the operator now.
Jamie threw the van into reverse, drove across the grass to the parking lot, and took off with a squeal of tires. ‘Stay down. All of you.’
‘Where are you going?’ Phil demanded.
‘I have no fucking clue,’ Jamie snarled, then ground his teeth and grabbed his partner’s hand, quieting his voice. ‘Yeah, I do. To the hospital. I’m getting everyone checked out. No arguments.’
‘All right,’ Phil said calmly. He spoke into the phone. ‘We’re going to the closest hospital . . . No, I don’t think it’s smart for us to stay put.’ He glanced back at Thorne. ‘You can send your officers to the address I just gave you. We’ll be at the hospital if they wish to interview us.’ He gave the operator his phone number, then disconnected. ‘I’m all right, Jamie,’ he said quietly.
Jamie’s nod was frantic. ‘Let’s make sure, okay?’
Gwyn stared at Thorne’s pale face. ‘What the fuck just happened?’
‘You were almost shot in the head,’ he whispered. ‘If you hadn’t stopped to look in your bag . . .’
‘For my sunglasses,’ she murmured, still feeling numb. ‘My bag’s back there somewhere. My ID is in it. I’ll need it back.’
‘We’ll have the cops pick it up. We’re not going back there.’ Thorne was already punching a number into his phone. ‘JD? It’s Thorne. We have a situation.’
Ten
Annapolis, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 11.15 A.M.
He hit the button on his intercom when it buzzed. ‘Yes, Jeanne?’
‘Mr Patton is on line one, sir.’
He pressed the blinking button. ‘Yes, Mr Patton? What news do you have for me?’
‘I did what you said to do,’ Patton said, his confusion still evident from his tone.
‘Excellent.’ He consulted the notes on his desk. ‘Your next mark will soon be leaving a Greek restaurant at the corner of Old Georgetown and Wisconsin. The place is called Kaia’s Kouzina.’
‘Same instructions?’
‘Yes. Call me when it’s done. I’ll have the next mark and the next location.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He hung up the phone, pleased. Patton was following his orders without question. Finally. The man was also acquiring manners. It was about time.
A soft knock on his door had him looking up. And then smiling. His daughter-in-law stood in the doorway, her blond hair shining like gold in the light coming through the porthole window. ‘Margo. What can I do for you?’
She didn’t smile back. In fact, she looked very worried. ‘I got a call from the babysitter. Benny is running a slight temperature, just a degree.’
He straightened. ‘He was fine last night!’
‘Yes, he was, but sometimes babies get fevers. He could simply be teething. But I’d like to go home, if it’s all right. I can take care of your to-do list from home if you grant me remote access to the office network.’
‘Of course.’ He had to tell himself not to panic, that she was right, that all babies got fevers sometimes. ‘Should we take him to the doctor?’
‘No, Papa. But if this continues, I promise I’ll take him in.’
‘Of course you will,’ he murmured. It was just that the thought of losing Benny . . . The boy was all he had left of his son. ‘Call me and let me know how he’s doing.’
‘Of course I will.’
He frowned at her, because she looked a lot more worried than was warranted by a teething toddler. ‘What are you not telling me?’
She drew a breath. ‘You’re not going to like it.’
He forced himself to remain calm. ‘It’s not just a teething fever, is it?’
‘Yes! It really is. Benny will be fine. This is something else.’
‘That I will not like.’
‘Right.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘You remember Bernice Brown?’
‘Yes. That was only two days ago, Margo. I’ve not become forgetful in my dotage,’ he added, his
lightly mocking tone carrying a definitive warning. Just because she was his daughter-in-law and the mother of his grandson didn’t mean she could treat him with disrespect.
She blushed, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
‘Good. So. Bernice Brown? The woman who supposedly called Thorne to lure him out of his home on Saturday night.’ It would have been far simpler to attack him in his home. Except getting into his home had proven difficult. The man had an excellent security system. So they’d decided that luring him out was more effective.
‘Yes, her. Well, one of the things we did before using her name was to find her and make sure she couldn’t tell anyone that she hadn’t made the call.’
‘Exactly. Patton located her and eliminated her.’
She winced. ‘Well, he thought he had.’
He came to his feet, his fury white-hot. ‘What? What do you mean?’
‘He set fire to the trailer she was living in. Or so he thought. But she’d moved, and the trailer he burned wasn’t hers. She and her cousin had relocated to a new park. It wasn’t Patton’s fault,’ she added quickly. ‘He contacted her best friend, posing as a cop. She gave him the address, but it turned out it was the wrong one.’
‘And how do you know this?’ he asked coldly.
‘Because we have eyes on Thorne’s nightclub, and the friend – Sally Brewster – met with one of Thorne’s attorneys this morning. I don’t know what they discussed, but I was concerned that they’d connected at all. I checked the victims of Patton’s fire. They were not Bernice Brown and her cousin. The occupants were a professor on sabbatical and her husband. They’d just arrived at the park.’
He lowered himself back to his chair. ‘I see.’
Her eyes were wide and full of entreaty. ‘Please, Papa, if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me. Patton thought he was doing the right thing. I should have visited and made sure it was the right address.’
He nodded slowly. ‘It was an honest mistake,’ he said stiffly. Mistakes happened. He’d even made one or two himself. Million, he added bitterly. ‘Does Patton know of his mistake?’
‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘I just told him. He is understandably concerned about your reaction.’
As he should be. ‘All right.’ He quickly considered his options. He could eliminate Patton and move to the next person in his organization. He’d reminded Patton of the cost of failure just hours before. It was reasonable to believe that the man would be even more vigilant – and obedient – from here on out.
‘What would you do?’ he asked Margo, curious to know her thoughts. She might sit behind this desk someday. It was time to begin her training.
She bit her lip. ‘I think mercy in this situation would create an even more loyal employee. I like Patton. He’s smart and ambitious. I think he’s keen to take on more responsibility. I’d leave him in place. He’ll work harder to please you.’
‘My thoughts exactly. You mentioned that Mrs Brown’s friend met with one of Thorne’s attorneys. Which one?’
‘Frederick Dawson. He’s new to Thorne’s firm, recently relocated from California.’
His brows lifted, the name all too familiar. ‘Dawson?’
She nodded, immediately understanding his question. ‘He’s related to the woman who was involved in the Jarvis case. Dawson’s daughter, Taylor, was providing equine therapy to Jarvis’s daughter, Jazzie.’
Because the child had seen her mother murdered. Jarvis had tried to murder the therapist, but Taylor Dawson had shot back, wounding him. That had been the moment his relationship with Jarvis had ended. Unfortunately, not before he’d been linked to the despicable man. By Thomas Thorne, of course. Thorne had provided photographic proof to the police that Jarvis had dined with him in his favorite Italian restaurant.
He’d been furious at the time. He still was. But his confusion over how Thorne had obtained that photograph had led him to an investigation of all of his employees, which had revealed Ramirez to have been the traitor. Now Ramirez was dead. But it had given the police cause to watch him. He’d had to be careful where and when he appeared in public ever since. He always had a tail he needed to lose.
It was the reason he now did business on his yacht. The police didn’t know of its existence, so he was left free to conduct himself as he saw fit.
That anyone connected to the disaster of the Jarvis case was now poking around in his business was extremely annoying.
‘Do we know where to find Mr Dawson?’ he asked, his tone clipped.
‘I’m sure I can find out.’
‘Please do. You may do that from home, once you’re certain that Benny is all right. Go now. Call me if he worsens.’
She nodded once. ‘I will. I’ll send you Dawson’s address and I’ll keep you updated.’ She closed the door behind her as she left.
Margo was a good mother. He should trust her. Still, he’d have his personal physician look in on the baby this afternoon. Because she should have checked the address before Patton torched a perfectly good trailer. He’d be second-guessing her decisions for the foreseeable future, but she had a good head on her shoulders. She’d make a worthy successor, given the proper training.
She was young. They had lots of time.
Baltimore, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 12.45 P.M.
This is all my fault. All my damn fucking fault. Thorne paced back and forth in the small ER cubicle. The beds here were separated only by curtains, unlike the hospital where he’d been taken yesterday, where there were rooms with physical walls. And doors.
That could stop bullets. Or at least slow them down. He gave the curtain a smack and a curse. Which was met with an aggravated sigh from the woman sitting on the bed.
‘Thorne, stop it,’ Gwyn snapped. ‘You’re driving me nuts. It’s going to make my blood pressure go up and they won’t let me fucking leave.’ She drew in a breath that flared her nostrils. ‘Come here. Now.’
Grudgingly he obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed when she patted it. ‘Jamie and Phil are in that cubicle right next to us, and Phil’s health might depend on you staying calm. Okay?’
He closed his eyes. ‘You’re almost as good at guilting me as they are.’
‘I watch and learn,’ she said wryly. She took his hand and squeezed it hard. ‘I’m fine. I have a few bruises. You’re fine. Those two over there are shaken up, but they’re fine too.’ She hooked a finger in his collar to pull him closer, smoothing her palm over his cheek. He leaned into the caress, drinking her in. ‘You saved my life. You did good.’
He let her voice soothe him. ‘You’re not going out with me again.’
‘Oh yes I am,’ she said in a murmur. ‘The faster we figure this out, the faster we can get back to our lives, currently in progress.’
He huffed a low chuckle, then once again remembered the terror of hearing that glass break behind her. It had been the plate-glass window of the building’s lobby, shattering into a million tiny fragments. He probably still had glass in his hair. Which didn’t matter. Gwyn was safe. That was all that mattered.
She was safe. But she’d been targeted. Shot at. Dammit. Because of me.
‘Not your fault,’ she murmured, as if reading his thoughts. ‘But do the others know? They should take precautions.’
The others. All of their closest friends. The people who’d banded together to save his sorry ass. If one of them got hurt, lost a single drop of blood . . . I’ll never forgive myself.
‘They need to go under,’ he muttered. ‘Into a fucking bunker.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Gwyn said pragmatically. ‘Look at me.’ She tapped his cheek with one finger until he obeyed, meeting her gaze. ‘They want to help you. Clay, Stevie, Paige? Sam and Ruby? All of them investigate crime for a living. The others have done so as part of their jobs, risking their lives – and for str
angers, Thorne. People that walk in off the damn street. You’re family. They are going to help you. I am going to help you. So just accept it and we’ll go on.’
Family. His heart squeezing hard, he closed his eyes and savored the feel of her palm on his cheek, her soft words in his ears.
The curtain beside them opened, revealing Phil and Jamie. Awkward to be caught in such an intimate position, Thorne lurched back and Gwyn dropped her hand to her lap. Ignoring the heating of his cheeks and the amused surprise in Jamie and Phil’s eyes, Thorne studied his old teacher carefully. Phil looked so much better that he shuddered out a relieved breath.
‘You’re okay,’ he murmured.
‘He is,’ Jamie confirmed. ‘We’re lucky.’
Phil ignored them both with an irritated wave of his hand. ‘Gwyn speaks good sense. You’re going to have to let us help you, Thorne. Are you okay, Gwyn?’
Her smile was downright sunny. ‘Right as rain. You?’
He looked annoyed. ‘Fine. But now you know my secret.’
‘We knew last night,’ Gwyn said with a shrug. ‘Nobody told me, if it makes you feel better. I’m a dirty rotten eavesdropper.’
Phil’s lips twitched. ‘You’re absolved. These two, not so much.’
‘Absolved my fucking ass.’ The curtain behind them parted, revealing a furious JD Fitzpatrick.
Gwyn winced. ‘Go easy on us,’ she whined. ‘I have a headache.’
‘You’re right as rain,’ JD parroted sarcastically. He whipped the curtain closed. ‘What the ever-lovin’ fuck, Thorne? You were specifically told not to go investigating this on your own.’ He held a finger to his lips, then pointed over his shoulder. ‘Hyatt,’ he mouthed.
Fan-fucking-tastic, Thorne wanted to growl, but he kept his mouth closed because he understood. JD was playing a part, acting angry in front of Hyatt.
He frowned. But that made no sense, because JD wasn’t supposed to be on his case at all. Conflict of interest and all that. Unless Hyatt had instructed him to get information. Thorne wouldn’t put it past the lieutenant.
But you trust JD. He’s earned it. Which was true. Hell, JD had just warned them that Hyatt was listening. So he tamped down his anger and paranoia. For now.
