by Debra Webb
If she proved good enough, maybe one day she would be a Colby agent. That was her ultimate goal. Meanwhile, she was starting out as Mildred’s backup.
The elevator doors slid open to an empty lobby on the fourth floor. Other than the top echelon of investigators, most of the staff didn’t arrive until seven-thirty—unless there was a special meeting.
As Lucky walked side by side with Lucas Camp along the main corridor, the realization that he had arrived at the office without Victoria took primacy above all the other thoughts whirling around in Lucky’s head.
“Mrs. Colby-Camp isn’t coming into the office today?” Lucky wouldn’t have to be so worried about making a mistake while shadowing Mildred if that were the case.
“She’s having breakfast with a friend this morning,” Mr. Camp said as he held open the staff lounge door. The fragrant smell of coffee greeted them.
Lucky nodded. “Oh.”
Being the consummate gentleman, Mr. Camp poured Lucky then himself a cup of Mildred’s amazing coffee. “You know, Lucky,” he said, his expression thoughtful, “I could use a small favor this morning.” He picked up his cup of coffee, sipped it and hummed his approval.
Anticipation zinged Lucky. “Absolutely, sir. Anything you need.” Slow down, Lucky. Don’t act like a fan-girl. She cleared her throat. “I’m happy to be of service.” Better.
“Let’s go to my office.”
Lucas Camp’s office sat directly across the hall from Victoria’s intimate waiting room. Mildred had told Lucky that the office Lucas now used had been an additional supply room, but one would never know it. Sophisticated was the first word to come to mind as Lucky entered the spacious office. A massive mahogany desk dominated the space. One wall was lined with distinguished-looking books, while another showcased numerous accolades, some of which were signed by the president himself. Like Victoria’s office, his desk sat before an enormous window with an inspiring view. Two upholstered chairs waited in grand style before his desk.
Mr. Camp unlocked his desk and retrieved a small package. About the size of a jeweler’s box, one made for a necklace or bracelet, the package was wrapped in brown paper. He passed it across his desk. Lucky shifted her coffee to her left hand and accepted the package.
She smiled. “A special occasion coming up?”
“You could say that,” he answered without the slightest hint of discernible sentiment in his voice.
Lucky didn’t make too much of his noncommittal tone or his unreadable expression. A man like Lucas Camp didn’t give away what was on his mind unless he wanted to. A lifetime of working under deep cover with the CIA had made him an expert in covert operations and interrogations and a lot of other stuff Lucky couldn’t begin to name, much less understand.
“I’d like you to take the package to an old friend of mine,” he explained.
Lucky’s pulse started that erratic race again. “An old friend?”
He scribbled something onto a notepad then tore off the page. “Here’s the address. My friend is expecting the package this morning.”
“I understand, sir.” She glanced at the address. It was not one she recognized.
“I’m sure the area is unfamiliar to you so take a taxi,” Mr. Camp suggested. “Have the driver wait. You’ll only be a moment.”
“Do I need a receipt as proof of delivery?” She wanted to do this right. Keeping Lucas Camp happy would be an important step up the ladder at the agency.
“There will be a verbal message,” Mr. Camp explained. “The message is the only receipt I need.”
“Yes, sir.” Lucky turned to go but then hesitated. “Your friend’s name is…?” She certainly didn’t want to make the mistake of leaving the package with the wrong person. Honestly, she didn’t want to make any kind of mistake at all.
“Jennifer.”
“Okay.” Lucky had just assumed the friend was another man. Good thing she asked. “I’ll be on my way, then.”
“Report back to me as soon as you’ve made the drop,” Mr. Camp said as she exited his office.
Lucky nodded. “Yes, sir.”
She crossed the hall to inform Mildred that she had an errand, but Victoria’s waiting room was empty, as was her office.
Lucky headed for the lounge to see if Mildred might be whipping up another pot of her amazing coffee. No Mildred in the lounge. Confused, she turned back toward Mildred’s office.
“Lucky, there you are.”
She kicked aside her confusion and posted a smile for Simon Ruhl, one of the agency’s top investigators. He and Ian Michaels served as seconds-in-command to Victoria and her son, Jim. “Good morning, Mr. Ruhl.” Wow, she was popular this morning.
Simon offered his usual friendly smile. “I just wanted to let you know that Mildred won’t be back in the office until later this afternoon. She dropped by to make coffee, but then rushed away more giddy than I’ve seen her in ages.” He smiled. “She’s having a makeover, compliments of Victoria.”
“Nice.” Lucky hoped that wasn’t something she was supposed to know already. Mildred hadn’t mentioned the appointment. “Is it Mildred’s birthday?”
Simon shook his head. “Her wedding anniversary is this week. Victoria wanted her to take the whole day off but Mildred insisted on stopping by and tying up any loose ends before leaving on her long weekend.”
Tying up loose ends was just another way of saying she wanted to make sure Lucky was prepared for her short absence.
“That’s really nice,” she said to Mr. Ruhl. All the more reason she felt immensely fortunate for having landed this position. The Colby Agency was like one big family. “I have an errand to run for Mr. Camp. Will my being out for an hour or so be a problem?” Victoria might not like having her assistant and her new assistant-in-training out of the office at the same time. The point of having a backup was to ensure Victoria always had an assistant on duty.
“We’ve got it covered,” Mr. Ruhl assured her. “Take care of Lucas’s errand. Let me know when you’re back in the office.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucky started for the elevator again.
“One more thing, Lucky.”
She turned back to him once more. “Sir?”
He gifted her with another of those warm smiles. “The sir isn’t necessary. Nor is the mister. We’re very informal around here. Call me Simon.”
She nodded. That would take some getting used to. Where she was from, one always addressed their superiors and seniors in such a way.
Simon Ruhl chuckled as he walked away.
Lucky relaxed a little. She would be okay. Everyone seemed to like her so far. Then reality dropped down on her like a rock slide. She wouldn’t have Mildred to keep her straight when Victoria arrived. A lump settled in Lucky’s stomach.
Don’t borrow trouble, she told herself. She would be fine. Her boss would surely understand the need for guidance with someone so new.
This time she actually reached her destination without being waylaid. She pressed the elevator’s call button and took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to relax. They didn’t really help.
In the lobby she waved at the two security guards as she strode toward the front entrance. The weather was beautiful. If she knew her way around a little better she would walk to the drop point. But getting lost was not a risk she wanted to take. And she wasn’t actually sure of the distance.
She’d no more passed through the towering plate-glass doors when a big black car with the darkly tinted windows of a limo pulled to a stop in front of her. The parking area at the front of the building was rather small, mostly for short-term parking and drop-offs. Lucky made a sharp left to go around the car.
The rear window powered down. Lucky hesitated. Maybe someone needed directions. She, unfortunately, wasn’t the person to ask. Three months in the city and she still got lost all too frequently. Chicago was very different from Houston in climate and in the way the city was laid out.
“Good morning, Lucky.”
Her eyes widened. The boss. “Good morning, Mrs. Colby-Camp.”
“You must have read my mind,” Victoria mused. “I was about to call for you to come down. I’d like you to accompany me for an appointment this morning.”
“Of course.” Lucky’s job was all-inclusive when it came to the needs of Victoria.
A frown pinching her face, Victoria Colby-Camp glanced past Lucky. Lucky turned to see if someone else had exited the building. She saw no one.
“Why don’t you get in and I’ll explain on the way.”
A little confused—but that seemed to be the theme for the day—Lucky climbed into the limo next to her boss. “Is everything all right?” Victoria seemed a little nervous, which was completely out of character.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” To the driver, she said, “I’m ready now.”
He turned back to make eye contact with the woman in charge. “The clinic?”
“Yes.” The head of the Colby Agency folded her hands in her lap, keeping her attention focused forward.
Clinic? “Are we meeting a client?” Lucky ventured. She was aware that the Colby Agency went out of the way to facilitate the needs of clients, so it seemed a reasonable question. But hadn’t Lucas said Victoria was having breakfast with a friend?
Mrs. Colby-Camp turned to face her. “Lucky, you’re brand new at the agency. But I trust that what I’m about to tell you will go no further.”
Lucky’s heart rate jumped back into that crazy, frantic rhythm. “You have my word, ma’am.”
The woman Lucky admired so greatly stared forward once more. “I am not one to keep secrets from my husband and my son, but this is for the best.”
Her voice sounded distant, wistful. “Is something wrong?” Every cell in Lucky’s brain screamed at her that something was very, very wrong.
“Yes.” Victoria inhaled a deep, halting breath. “Something is quite wrong.”
Sweet heavens. Lucky choked back the worry rising in her throat. “How can I help?”
“There is a treatment that may possibly outmaneuver this disaster,” Mrs. Colby-Camp said softly. “It’s fairly simple. Only takes an hour or so. I’ll know within the week if it’s going to work.”
That was why they were going to a clinic. Lucky wanted to ask what would happen if it didn’t work, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her fears. The need to flat-out ask the nature of the disaster had her pressing her lips firmly together.
“I see no need to put my family through the emotional drama if this simple procedure will take care of things.” Victoria stared at her hands a moment. “Still, I wasn’t looking forward to going to the clinic alone.”
Lucky wanted to reach over and hug her. “I’m glad you thought of me.” Victoria looked so desolate, so unlike the strong, powerful woman whose reputation had plowed a famous path all the way to Texas. Lucky had heard the stories about the Colby Agency and she had known that being a part of the agency was what she wanted above all else.
“When the procedure is over,” Lucky’s boss went on, seeming to gather her courage once more, “we’ll return to the office and this will be our secret until such time that it becomes necessary to share the details with my husband and son.”
At the mention of Victoria’s husband, Lucky thought of the package in her pocket. Lucas was depending on her to deliver it…but this, well, this thing with Victoria took precedence.
Maybe when Mrs. Colby-Camp was settled in for the procedure, Lucky could have the driver run her to the address Lucas had provided. She would be back in plenty of time. Victoria wouldn’t even know she’d been gone. Lucky would have accomplished both missions and neither would be the wiser.
That would work.
Lucky sat back in the lush leather seat. She couldn’t help stealing a peek at Victoria from the corner of her eyes. She looked so grim. Whatever was wrong it had to be bad. Lucky’s mother would say this was a good time to pray.
But Lucky had stopped praying a long time ago. And her mother wasn’t exactly a stellar role model.
Funny, for a woman with the name Lucky, she’d never had much luck. Not the good kind anyway.
Maybe Victoria Colby-Camp hadn’t had much either. Lucky had heard bits and pieces of the story about her son. Jim Colby had been missing for twenty years when his mother had finally found him. During that same time her first husband had been murdered.
Seemed like the lady could use some good luck herself.
Chapter Three
7:40 a.m.
“One last transaction.”
Darnell Raspberry glared up at Dakota from his desk. “Are you insane? Mr. Wallace is going to kill you, but first he’ll kill me. I can’t keep doing this!”
Dakota slapped the man on the back. “One more,” he prompted. “And then I’ll be on my way.”
Raspberry grumbled something about him being left behind to take the heat. Dakota didn’t bother reminding him that was the way it went when a guy chose to live a life of crime. When it was good, it was good, but when things went bad it was generally seriously bad.
Dakota recited the untraceable numbered account for Raspberry, then reached over his shoulder and entered the security code himself.
“Now.” Dakota grabbed Raspberry by the collar and hauled him out of his chair. “Let’s take a walk.”
“But you said you’d go,” Raspberry whined. “I did everything you asked!”
“Which way to the men’s room?”
Raspberry muttered desperate protests all the way to the men’s room. Good thing no one else was expected in the office for another half hour or so.
“Now.” Dakota shoved the man into one of the two stalls. “Take off your belt and sit.”
Hands shaking, Raspberry removed his belt and crumpled onto the toilet seat.
“Put your knees up and grab your ankles.”
The man’s eyes rounded in fear, but he obeyed.
Dakota threaded the belt beneath the backs of his knees and then cinched it, essentially squeezing his forearms and legs together. Getting loose wouldn’t be difficult, but it would require a balancing act and some finagling and it would give Dakota time to get the hell out of the building.
He patted the guy on the head. “You keep quiet and I won’t be back. I hear you yelling and I’m coming to shut you up.”
Raspberry nodded, his eyes wild with hysteria.
Dakota checked the corridor then exited the men’s room. Two minutes later he was out of the building and leaving the scene at a brisk walk. He’d parked his truck a block away then taken a cab to Raspberry’s residence. Planning ahead was the key to a successful mission. Before anyone arrived to find Raspberry wailing at the top of his lungs, Dakota would be long gone.
Once in his truck, he checked the status of the numbered accounts via his smart phone. A grin split across his face. “Oh, yeah. Now that’s what I call equalizing.”
Every single one of the innocent victims Wallace had cheated now had their money—with interest—in a special account waiting to be claimed.
Dakota peeled off the rubber nose and chin, then the meticulously groomed mustache and sideburns. He scrubbed a hand over his face to rid his skin of the adhesive residue and then started the engine. He shifted into first but before he could let out on the clutch his cell vibrated. Sliding his phone open, he eased out on the clutch and rolled into the street. “Garrett.”
“Stellar work, Garrett.”
The boss. “All in a day’s work.” Dakota made the statement with a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. Though he wasn’t opposed to roughing up the bad guys, the rest was questionable. No matter that Wallace had stolen from the victims. To Dakota, stealing the money back was also a crime. It reminded him way too much of his mercenary days. And a few other incidents he’d just as soon not recall.
He’d walked away from that life…with good reason.
“I have another job for you.”
Surprised, Dakota said, “I’m your man.�
�� That was his stock answer. Work was about the only thing going in his life these days, so the more of it the better. But the enigmatic head of the Equalizers had insisted that no one would be allowed to work back-to-back assignments. The cases brought to the Equalizers were risky in more ways than one. The assignments required exacting attention to detail and unfailing physical readiness. Dakota executed a swift mental and physical inventory. He was good to go. As long as he didn’t end up in jail, or worse, he had no problem with jumping right into the next case.
“A young woman will be delivering a package this morning,” Slade Keaton, the overly secretive head of the Equalizers, explained. No one had even known his name, much less seen his face until a couple days ago. “I want you to follow her. Get the identity of the person who receives the package and report back to me.”
Sounded easy enough. “What about the woman?” Just how far was Dakota supposed to go to ensure he accomplished his assignment? Waltzing into an operation already in progress with no background details wasn’t exactly his favorite dance.
“No contact,” Keaton ordered. “I don’t want her to know she’s being followed. The delivery is for a former spook, Lucas Camp. If he gets wind that his protégée was followed, he’ll be trouble.”
Lucas Camp. Dakota didn’t know the name. “Who’s this Lucas Camp?” Had to be someone significant to an upcoming or ongoing case or Keaton wouldn’t waste time on him. Not that Dakota or anyone else on staff at the Equalizers knew enough about their employer to make a reliable assessment. He merely measured the man by the cases he took and the orders he doled out. So far Dakota couldn’t call him a bad guy, just one who liked to bend and twist the rules.
“He’s irrelevant,” Keaton said, dismissing Dakota’s question. “Report back to me as soon as you have the identity of the person who receives the package. I’m sending a photo of Lucky Malone and her current location to your phone. She’ll be making the delivery soon.”
“Got it covered.” Dakota ended the call. Lucky Malone. The mule, likely nothing more. But this Lucas Camp had to be more no matter that Keaton had played off the question. Dakota checked his phone for the location Keaton sent and headed in that direction.
