“Hand over your wallet, and we’ll take the Rolex, too.” The ATM machine had notified him he had reached the one-day limit on withdrawals.
Matt peeled off his watch and tossed his wallet to the man standing closest to him. He told himself again that it was only money and a hunk of steel sitting near the curb. He’d stopped at this machine on four different occasions on his trips to Natchez and all four times there had been people going in and out of the bank, shoppers going to the big Super Walmart. Tonight the area was empty of cars and the lone security guard. Once he’d actually seen a patrol car. Ten o’clock wasn’t that late. The law of averages said there should be at least one person out and about. The rain was light and didn’t pose a problem. A chill ran up his spine and then down his arms. He cursed the fact that he’d refused the services of his security team. His competitors all walked around with a bevy of pistol-packing security guards and drove in bulletproof limousines. In his opinion, all they did was call more attention to themselves. He preferred to keep a low profile and blend in with the crowds. Maybe he’d made a serious mistake. If he could just get to the car and his cell phone. It didn’t look like that was going to happen. Gracie was barking furiously.
“Headlights approaching,” one of the men hissed.
“Shut that damn dog up and take him out of the car. Don’t do something you’ll regret, Mr. Starr.”
Matt opened the car door. Gracie lunged against him. Her huge body trembled. He called her to his side and hooked his thumb and forefinger inside her collar. “Shhh, don’t make a sound, Gracie,” he said softly. The big dog pressed against his thigh as four young people whizzed by in a pickup truck giggling and laughing, their arms waving in the air. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. They also looked like they were more than a little inebriated. They were probably on their way to a New Year’s Eve party. He took that moment to look down at the sidewalk and noticed the shoes on the men’s feet. One of them wore expensive Cole Haan shoes. He recognized them because he owned a pair. The second man, who had yet to speak, wore Brooks Brothers wing tips. He recognized those, too, since he’d worn Brooks Brothers shoes since his college days. The third man wore pricey, high-end sneakers. He himself wore Converse high-tops. With a huge hole in the right toe. His eyes narrowed. Maybe this wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill ATM hit. Maybe this was something else.
Matt started to jiggle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to keep warm. The wind was kicking up, and the rain was starting to blow in all directions. “Get in the car. I’ll drive,” Clean Hands said.
“Take the damn car. You have my wallet, ATM card, and my watch. You don’t need me. My dog is sick, I’d like to get her home. I won’t call the police if that’s what’s worrying you,” Matt said.
“I-don’t-think-so. Get in the car and keep that dog quiet.”
Matt climbed into the backseat and sat down. “Carjacking and kidnapping are serious offenses. You could go to jail for a very long time,” he said tightly.
“So’s murder. Now shut up.”
“Tell me what you want. This isn’t about taking twenty-dollar bills out of my account. It isn’t about stealing a Jaguar either. Let’s save us both a lot of trouble. Tell me what you want and let me get the hell out of here.”
“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to shut up” the high-end sneakers man muttered as he steered the car onto Business 61. He made a left turn at the light, drove a half mile on Wilson Road before he hit Highway 555, the Old Pine Ridge Road, then made another right that would take him north to Anna’s Bottom.
It didn’t look like he was going to make his cozy evening with Lily after all. Matt felt his insides start to shrivel when he pictured Lily making explanations at the rehearsal dinner. The vision of her waiting for him a second time at the altar made him sick to his stomach. Why hadn’t he waited till morning to hit the ATM machine? He could have done it at anytime tomorrow. Oh, no, he had to do it tonight. Now look what happened, you sorry son of a bitch.
Where was the damn cell phone? On the front seat? No, Gracie had been sitting on the passenger side. He would have seen it if it was there. It wasn’t in the console either. It must either be on the floor or somewhere on the backseat. Shit, maybe he was sitting on it. Gracie whimpered next to him. He patted her head just as something pricked his arm. At first he thought it was a twitching nerve in his arm, then the world turned black.
“Now what?”
The driver turned to look over his shoulder. “You tell me. That guy is one of the richest software giants in the country. Yeah, he looks like a bum, but maybe he’s just eccentric. I’ve seen pictures of him plastered all over the place. He always dresses like this.”
“If he’s that rich and that famous, someone is going to come looking for him. He was right, carjacking and kidnapping are serious business. Why don’t we clean out his account and let him go? The most we planned on getting tonight was a few hundred each. You have his PIN number. I wouldn’t do well in prison,” the man sitting on Matt’s right side said.
“Look, do you want a few paltry hundred or do you want thousands? People like him have more than one account. I say we stash him somewhere and clean out as much as we can. Let’s take a vote.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“So where are we going to stash him?”
“There’s an abandoned shack at Anna’s Bottom. I know how to get in and out. I’m banking on this guy having a line of credit. We’ll just tap into it.”
“I read something about him in the Wall Street Journal the other day. I read the headline at the newsstand while I was waiting in line. Damn, I can’t remember what it was. Yeah, yeah, he’s getting married on New Year’s Day. It said something about one of the world’s richest men was tying the knot and there was no prenup. They made a big deal out of the prenup. The chick lives here in Natchez. I think he’ll cooperate.”
“Looks like he’s going to miss his wedding. We’re probably doing the dumb schmuck a favor. What about the dog?”
“We dump the dog first chance we get. That gives us two bargaining chips, the girl and the dog, Sneakers said. ”He’ll play ball.”
“How long is that shot going to last him?”
“Six hours, maybe a little more. I have one more on me, and that’s it.”
“We’ll worry about that later. I’m going to pull over. Put the dog out on the side of the road. Don’t hurt the animal. I like animals.”
“Settle back, gentlemen, we have a long ride ahead of us. And you guys said this little enterprise wouldn’t work. Who in their right mind would think three highly respected brothers with their own business would be out robbing ATM customers in the middle of the night? If we play our cards right, we might be able to kiss that business of ours good-bye and head to the islands and lead the good life. You gotta admit, this is better than insider trading. The SEC always catches up with those guys. I don’t see anyone catching up with us. Once we get his money, we let him go and split. It’ll take him weeks to find his way back. We’ll be long gone before he manages to get to the authorities. We’re not talking murder here. We feed him, too, let him do a little exercising. All we want is his money. Do we all agree?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
He woke with a hammering headache, then opened his eyes to total darkness. Where was he? Gingerly he felt his arms and legs. One leg and one arm wouldn’t move. It took a full minute to realize he was tied to something. “Gracie, where are you?” he whispered. When there was no response from the shepherd, he started to struggle until he realized it was an exercise in futility.
It must be night. How had he gotten here? Where was here? He remembered the prick to his arm. Drugged. Son of a bitch! “Gracie!” he called, but this time his voice was louder. “If you bastards hurt my dog, I’ll kill you. I’ll track you to the ends of the earth.” The silence told him he was alone.
He closed his eyes becau
se there was nothing else to do.
They woke him by poking a stick at his chest. “Where’s my dog?” he demanded.
“You hear that? He’s more interested in his dog than he is about what’s happening to him. Commendable. We’re going to untie your foot so you can sit up. “Your dog got away when we stopped for gas.”
“Lying bastard. My dog would never leave me. Tell me what you want.”
“We want your money. That’s it, your money. Pure and simple.”
“How do you propose to do that? A letter isn’t going to do it. My bankers aren’t stupid. It won’t work. My accounts have safeguards in place, fingerprint I.D., stuff like that. What that means is I have to offer up my fingerprint to withdraw any sum over five hundred dollars at any one time. It’s not the same at every bank or branch. In some instances, it’s an eye identification or voice I.D. They are new safeguards we put into place last year for just this reason. I’m not doing it, so forget about it. I want my dog.”
“Oh, you’ll do it, Mr. Starr. If you don’t, we’ll pay the little lady you’re supposed to marry later today a visit. Do you want to change your mind? We aren’t talking about going into a bank. We’re talking about wire transfers, and don’t even think about telling me it can’t be done.”
“You bastards. Lily has nothing to do with this. You touch one hair . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like you’re really going to do something. Look around, Mister Starr. What do you see? Four walls, a sturdy door, no windows, and that board you’re sleeping on. It’s four-thirty in the morning in case you’re interested. I think what we’re going to do is clean you up and drive you to New Orleans so we can go shopping for money. One wrong move, and you get dumped in one of the bayous. You’ll be dead in an hour. Now, what’s it going to be?”
“If I do all this and you get your money, what happens to me?”
“We stash you someplace. When we get to where we want to go we’ll call the police, and they’ll come get you. We’re not murderers. Let me put it to you another way, you don’t have any options. Get him up, tie his hands behind his back. Let him take a leak first.”
Matt gritted his teeth. “Where’s my dog?”
“I told you, he hopped out of the car when we stopped for gas. The dog was alive. I like dogs. That’s the truth. Come on, move.”
“The dog is a she, not a he.”
“Whatever.”
He was right, there were no options.
It was just turning light when Matt was shoved into the backseat. He felt something hard nudge his thigh when he landed against the back door. The cell phone? It felt like it. One of the men climbed in next to him. “Wake me up when we get there,” he snarled.
Matt worked his bound hands around the hard square he was half-sitting on.
“What the hell are you doing back there, Mr. Starr?”
“Trying to get comfortable. Can’t you just tie one of my hands to the door handle or something?”
“No.”
It was the cell phone. Now the problem was, how to get it into his hip pocket, and he had to do it before it became full light. He sat quietly, his mind racing. Without stopping to think, he brought up his knees, one leg outstretched. He shoved the leg into the driver’s neck, knowing he was going to get clobbered for doing it, but it gave him precious seconds to jam the cell phone into his hip pocket. The Jaguar careened to the right and then the left as the driver struggled to control the powerful car.
“Try a stunt like that again, and you’re dead meat. Get on the damn floor and don’t move. Keep your foot on his neck and don’t go to sleep.”
Matt felt himself being shoved to the floor. His leg swung out again and clipped his seat companion smack on the mouth. He felt something warm splatter on his face. Blood.
The Jaguar came to a screeching halt. Strong hands yanked him from the car. He inhaled deeply of the crispy pine-scented air and wished he had a cup of Starbucks coffee to welcome the new day.
“Put him in the damn trunk!”
“No. We want him alive and well. The trip’s too long. Find something to tie his ankles with and give him another shot of that stuff. Do it now, you idiot. He’ll sleep the rest of the way. Am I the only one with any brains around here?”
A moment later, Matt’s ankles were tied. For the second time in under an hour he was shoved into the car. He thanked God for the hip-length windbreaker that covered his hip pockets. The needle stung, then his world went dark.
Chapter Two
The mirror said she looked like a beautiful bride, but it was all a big lie. In order to be a beautiful bride, one had to go through a wedding ceremony, preferably with a groom in attendance. The stunning Demetrios original with matching veil and the requisite blue garter just wasn’t cutting it. Especially since the groom had been a no-show.
Lily Harper gritted her teeth. By God she wouldn’t cry. She absolutely would not cry. Dumped at the proverbial altar on her wedding day for the second time. Not just any day. Oh, no, he had to do it on New Year’s Day. Jilted twice and by the same man both times. What kind of fool was she? A lovesick fool who believed a man’s lies. She remembered now how bad it had hurt that first time. How devastated she was. So devastated, she trashed the gown and veil and ran as far and as fast as she could. She’d ended up in Wyoming and signed on as an outdoor survival guide with a company that planned Extreme Vacations for wealthy businessmen. With her degree in forestry, she’d aced the rigorous training program and managed to hide out until Matt Starr came back into her life. Sweet-talking Matt Starr and his dog Gracie. Oh yeah.
Her face burned now when she remembered how eager she’d been to swallow the lies he’d fed her. With no family to fall back on to guide her, she’d had to rely on her friend Sadie, who thought Matt Starr was the neatest thing since sliced bread. Sadie was a bigger fool than she was.
Lily looked around the sunny apartment. Her home away from Ozzie Conklin’s survival camp for the rich and famous. Right now she couldn’t bear to think about her first real estate venture, the white elephant she’d purchased from Sadie last April at Ozzie’s insistence. You need to put down roots, he’d said. And, he’d gone on to say, owning a house is a tax write-off. Since that time the project had grown legs. The house was supposed to be her wedding present to Matt. For the past year she’d racked up huge telephone bills talking daily to the contractors, who specialized in restoring antebellum mansions. While she wasn’t a native of Natchez, having grown up in Florida, along with Sadie, she’d been coming here for years for visits with Sadie. Four years ago she’d leased an apartment in the Bienville complex on South Commerce Street, returning every winter with Sadie when Ozzie closed down the camp for three months. She preferred the laid-back life of Natchez to life in Fort Lauderdale, but coming here to soak in the milder temperatures during December, January, and February when Ozzie closed down had never really made her happy. Maybe that was because she was incapable of being happy. Maybe it all had something to do with Matt Starr and the fact that she’d signed the lease on the apartment, along with Sadie, after she’d finally given up hope of ever seeing him again.
Lily kicked off her satin heels and watched them fly across the room as she burst into tears. “Damn you! Damn you to hell, Matt Starr.” She hooked her thumbs into the delicious V of the Demetrios gown and felt the material give way. Thousands of tiny seed pearls created a blizzard as they sailed about the room. She continued to rip and gouge until the elegant gown was nothing but shreds. When she realized she was still wearing the matching veil, she ripped it from her head and stuck her foot through the fine netting. Breathing like a racehorse, she hiked up her strapless bra and peeled off the lacy blue garter. She made a slingshot of it and watched it ricochet across the room to land near one of the white-satin shoes.
She sat down on the colorful green-and-yellow sofa and cried because she didn’t know what else to do.
Sadie Lincoln opened the door and cautiously entered the living room.
“Go away, Sadie. I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing to say. Please don’t try to cheer me up.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. I came up to commiserate with you. Everyone’s gone except Matt’s best man. I think it’s safe to say it was one pissed-off crowd. The Digitech crowd that is. You know, they missed the New Year’s Eve bash back in New York for your rehearsal dinner, then the wedding that didn’t come off on New Year’s Day. As Marcus put it succinctly, the wedding from hell that didn’t come off. Dennis is waiting downstairs. Why, I don’t know. My blood is boiling, Lily. I thought Matt Starr was one in a million. It looks like we were both wrong. I need to know what you’re going to do, Lily. I can’t go off to Australia tomorrow knowing I’m leaving you like this.”
“Don’t worry about me. I survived the first time, and I’ll survive this time, too. The worst part of all this is I knew. I knew, Sadie. Something in my gut, my heart, my head, whatever, told me this was going to happen. When he called to say he wouldn’t make the rehearsal and the dinner last night, I knew. Even though he said he was probably going to be late and might not make it at all, something told me he was going to make a fool of me again. I played that stupid game of pretend, the way I used to do. I ignored what my heart was telling me even though I knew better. Ozzie taught us always to heed any warning, no matter how slight. Did I heed his warning? No, I did not. The fact that I haven’t seen Matt for a month should have been my first clue. Spending Christmas alone should have been my second clue. Why didn’t I think that was important? A smattering of phone calls in one month should have been my third clue. Not only am I dumb, I’m stupid as well. Look, don’t worry about me. Go to Australia. Meet Tom’s parents, enjoy your two-month leave. I’m a survivor. I’ll be okay.”
Charming Lily Page 3
