by Debra Webb
“Maggie from across the street?” Ian confirmed.
“Yes.” Maggie James’s coffee house was a mainstay of the Mag Mile and was located directly across the street from the Colby Agency. “I’ve been looking into Keaton since.” If he’d put Victoria in danger—or Lucky… Lucas didn’t want to believe that. No one was better at covert intelligence gathering. Keaton couldn’t possibly know Lucas was checking up on him.
“Have you learned anything that would suggest Keaton is a threat to Victoria or this agency?”
“I’ve learned nothing,” Lucas admitted, a first for him. “Keaton is a ghost in a very real sense of the word. The name only goes back a few years and prior to that it’s as if he didn’t exist. I’ve hit a brick wall with every avenue I’ve chosen to pursue.”
Ian, of all people, understood precisely how profound that statement was.
“What about Jennifer Ashton? Her role in your investigation was what?”
Lucas rubbed at his right thigh. The pain seemed to radiate all the way down to his ankle, which was impossible since nothing other than the prosthetic he used existed from just above the knee. “As I said, I’ve known Jennifer for years. Twenty to be exact. She’s a bridge walker. Was a bridge walker,” he amended once more with heavy regret.
“She walks in both worlds,” Ian clarified.
Lucas agreed with a nod. Jennifer Ashton had been a reliable contact between the sources who operated outside the law and those who upheld the law. She’d provided invaluable information to Lucas many times in the past. And she had a penchant for jewels. Whenever he wanted information, he exchanged her latest must-have jewelry request for her insights. “She contacted me. With numerous resources of her own, she often screens intelligence for anything market able. She insisted that she had discovered Keaton’s true identity and that the information would be of significant interest to me.”
“She was prepared to trade this information to you this morning?” Ian didn’t have to ask about the price. He knew Lucas would be willing to pay whatever the price if the information was deemed essential. “Yes.” Lucas simply couldn’t understand how Victoria had gotten involved with this…or why the exchange would have turned deadly. There was no visible logic in play. That was why he’d sent Lucky. The one rule Jennifer had was that she never met face-to-face with anyone who could mark her as taking sides. She only delivered via totally neutral contacts.
“I’ll keep trying to run down Lucky,” Ian said, pushing to his feet, “Simon and Jim will keep us briefed on the situation there. If you have other contacts who might be of assistance, we could use what ever we can get.”
“That’s the problem.” Lucas lifted his gaze to Ian’s. “None of my other contacts have anything on Keaton. Only Jennifer and now she’s dead.”
And Victoria and Lucky were missing.
With effort, Lucas stood. “I’m going to pay a visit to the brownstone.” Keaton’s office.
“That might not be a good idea,” Ian countered. “If this is about Keaton, we may want to wait for his next step. Applying pressure might accelerate the situation.”
Ian had a point but Lucas was not prepared to wait this out. Not with Victoria in danger and Lucky most likely in the same boat.
Slade Keaton had no idea onto whose toes he had just stepped.
If Victoria and Lucky were unharmed, the man might just survive his blunder.
Chapter Seven
12:15 p.m.
“What’re you doing?” Lucky had struggled to regain her composure as Garrett had driven back and forth half a dozen times between the main highway and the rise overlooking the prison or institution or whatever it was.
If those people at the clinic had brought Victoria here, Mr. Camp and the others had to have a plan. Lucky wanted to be part of that plan.
This was her fault.
She should never have left that clinic.
Garrett turned into the drive of one of the houses at the end of the road nearest the main highway. “What’re you doing now?” Some of the panic had subsided and Lucky felt more calm and rational. But frustration with Garrett’s silence and his strange behavior was getting to her.
He didn’t answer, just parked the truck and got out. She wrenched her door open and bounded out after him. “Really, Garrett, talk to me!” Why the heck had she let him put her off this long? She had to have suffered temporary insanity. Lucky might be new at the agency but she wasn’t stupid. This was a serious, dangerous situation. She needed to know what was going on. “Maybe I should speak directly to Mr. Camp.”
Garrett wheeled around and strode toward her. She stalled, abruptly knocked off her newly gained equilibrium by his lethal expression. She backed up a step as he stalked in toe-to-toe with her.
“Give me your cell.”
That nonchalant tone he’d tossed around from the moment he’d burst into the building where Mr. Camp’s contact had committed suicide had disappeared the moment he laid eyes on the place where those people had taken Mrs. Colby-Camp. But this deadly glare now focused on her was new.
She grabbed on to the disintegrating thread of her courage and shook her head firmly. “I told you I lost my cell phone.”
Before she could fathom his intent he reached out and patted her down.
“Hey!” She tried to wiggle out of his reach. “You can’t do that!”
He finished roving his hands over her body. “I just did.” Then he executed a sharp turn and strode toward the house. He kept walking until he’d rounded the rear corner.
Fury obliterated the helpless feelings Lucky had endured all morning. She raced to the front of the house, up the steps and to the door. She banged hard on the door. “Is anyone there?” She banged more aggressively. “I need help!”
No answer. No barking dog. Not a sound.
“Please!” She banged some more. “Call the police!”
Expecting Garrett to come drag her away, she kept an eye out for him to reappear. He might have been sent by Mr. Camp but this was wrong. Her instincts were screaming at her. She pounded a couple more times.
Nothing.
Lucky turned around on the porch. The stillness of the landscape had that too familiar sinking feeling dragging down her fragile bravado. Dense woods edged up on either side of the long, deserted stretch. Only the few houses scattered along the last three or four miles broke the pattern of endless green.
They hadn’t driven that far from the city. There had to be someone out here somewhere.
Reality invaded, making her mouth go dry.
It was the middle of the day on a weekday. People were likely at work. Was school still in session? If any kids were at home, would they call the police rather than answer the door? Lucky beat on the door again, her determination wilting faster than a week-old bouquet of roses.
Garrett hadn’t come after her.
She surveyed the yard and road again. Her gaze tripped over his truck.
Had he taken the keys when he’d gotten out?
Before the thought had fully formed, she was down the steps and across the yard. She jerked the driver’s door open and launched herself into the seat. Her fingers landed on the keys still in the ignition.
Victory sent a blast of adrenaline through her. She slid to the edge of the seat and stomped the clutch before turning the key. The truck rolled and she quickly pressed her right foot on the brake. A second twist of the key and the engine roared to life.
Lucky stared at the gear shifter on the floor. She’d driven a straight shift…once. Keeping the clutch pushed in, she moved the gearshift into what she hoped was Reverse. Then she slowly released the clutch and the brake simultaneously.
The truck jostled backward. Success sent her lips spreading wide. She twisted from the waist far enough to see behind her, so as to keep the truck out of the ditch. She nudged the accelerator….
Then the driver’s door opened.
Lucky jumped. Her foot relaxed from the accelerator and the truck jerked once bef
ore the engine died.
The short black barrel of a gun leveled on her face. “Get out.”
Fear clumped in her throat. If Garrett had intended to kill her he would have done so hours ago. He was supposed to be on the same team. Tightening her fingers on the steering wheel, she said, “No.” She shoved in the clutch, reached for the key once more and gave it a twist.
A strong hand manacled her arm and hauled her out of the truck. Her foot slid off the clutch and the truck jerked again, the engine dying.
Garrett put her firmly aside and climbed into the truck. He started the engine.
A new kind of terror burst in her chest. Was he leaving her?
The truck moved forward until it had disappeared behind the house.
Fury chased away the new fear. Lucky wasn’t taking any more grief from this man. She ran. She hit the pavement and kept running toward the main highway. Someone would come along. All she had to do was keep heading back toward the city.
If she could remember the way. She’d been pretty upset when they’d driven out here.
Wait. She mentally flipped through the vague memories of the past few minutes. The next house wasn’t that far away. Maybe someone would be home there.
The echo of shoe soles slapping against pavement sounded behind her. She glanced back. Garrett was closing in. A blast of adrenaline had her legs moving faster. If he caught her before she reached the next house, she would never get away.
Why was she running? Confusion twisted inside her. He’d said Mr. Camp had sent him…but why wouldn’t he tell her what was happening? He could be lying to her. How was she supposed to know? How had a simple errand for Mr. Camp and an even simpler task of accompanying Mrs. Colby-Camp to an appointment have gone so incredibly wrong so fast? Everything had spiraled out of control.
Lucky felt scared and confused. She wasn’t pre pared for this.
An arm banded around her waist, jerked her off her feet and swept her backward, as if underscoring her last thought. The sudden change in momentum put Garrett off balance and they tumbled to the ground on the side of the road. Though the impact knocked the breath out of Lucky, she struggled to get away. He fought to hold on to her. They rolled over the edge of the road’s shoulder and down…down…down.
Tangled in waist-deep grass, they hit the bottom of the ditch. She grunted with the final impact of his body against hers. The world spun. How deep was this ditch? She tried to focus on the grass…where it disappeared above them, rising up to meet the road.
Garrett got up. He glared at her for a beat before lugging her up with him. She’d had enough. Lucky launched back into action. She kicked him and punched him and yelled with all her might.
He tried to hold her, but she twisted in his grip. They toppled to the ground again.
This time he flattened her against the grass with his body weight. “That’s enough!”
She glared at him. “Let me go or I will start screaming again.”
“You scream and I will shut you up.”
He wasn’t kidding. The rage flaring in his eyes, stiffening in his body, was undeniable.
Lucky lost it.
She screamed at the top of her lungs.
His hand closed over her mouth. “My orders are to protect you.”
She tried to argue. To inform him that this did not feel like protection. But his hand remained firmly in place over her mouth.
“Your boss is in that place,” he growled, his palm still muffling her protests. “Do you want to help her or not?”
Lucky couldn’t breathe. Her heart was pounding too hard to inhale through her nose. She managed only a nod.
“Then you have to listen to me.” He dragged in a jagged breath of his own. “You don’t know this place. I do. You have to believe me when I say that this is bad. This is real bad. Our next move will very likely determine if your boss survives or not.”
Dear God. Lucky’s determination wilted with resignation. Could she possibly trust this man?
He claimed Mr. Camp had sent him, and he hadn’t killed her…yet. The very idea that she was alive and all those other people were dead had to tilt things in his favor. She studied his eyes, tried to read something beyond the frustration and impatience. She had to trust him.
She had no other choice.
Lucky nodded her agreement to listen to him. The pressure on her mouth eased. Despite her brand-new promise she had to fight the instinct to scream.
Garrett braced his hands on the ground on either side of her and pushed to his feet, lifting his body easily from hers.
She scrambled on all fours to put a few feet between them and got up. “What kind of place is it?”
He dusted off his trousers. “I’ll explain everything later. Right now we have to get back to the house.” He exhaled, tried to expel some of the frustration. “I have to figure this out.”
Before she could ask what house, he climbed the bank opposite the road and started into the woods.
Lucky pushed the hair out of her face and followed the path he’d taken. It wasn’t easy to wade through the underbrush that she wasn’t quite tall enough to march over as he had. When she caught up to him, she asked, “What house are you talking about?”
“This one.” He broke the tree line, entering a grassy yard.
She stared at the back of the pale yellow house and realized it was the one she’d just run from. “Do you know who lives here?” She hustled to catch up to him again. “Is that why you stopped here?” That would be convenient but also highly unlikely.
He didn’t stop until he’d reached the back porch. At the door, he opened the screen and elbowed one of the panes of glass in the upper part of the door. The glass shattered. He cleared the jagged pieces from the mullion and reached inside. Three seconds later he opened the door and walked into the house. The wooden screen door slammed shut behind him.
Lucky stood there, looking from the broken glass on the wood floor of the porch to the dark interior of the house where he’d disappeared.
When she’d pulled herself together, she opened the screen door and gingerly stepped over the broken glass. As soon as she’d located Garrett, she demanded, “Are you insane?”
He didn’t respond but he shot her a look that let her know he didn’t appreciate her remark. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t turned on a light inside the house. The meager light that filtered in through the partially closed blinds allowed her to see the feral look on his face.
Without a word he gave her his back and resumed his trek through the apparently deserted house.
Lucky took a minute to get her bearings. There was furniture in the house, framed photographs on the wall. People lived here. There had to be a phone.
Conscious of his movements, she eased into the nearest room. It was a bedroom and had no phone. She silently moved back into the hall, then into two more bedrooms without phones. What was wrong with these people? Didn’t they know that there should be a phone in every room of the house?
She found none in the living room either.
Fear and dread tied her stomach into knots once more.
She went back to the kitchen. Where was Garrett?
Biting her lower lip, she moved quickly around the kitchen.
There.
A phone hung on the wall next to the refrigerator. Relief melted her knees. She hurried across the room. It was the old-fashioned kind, with a long, curly cord. Lucky didn’t care as long as it worked.
She eased the receiver from its hook. The dial tone was like music to her ears. Holding her breath, she began entering the number for the agency. If Mr. Camp sent Garrett he shouldn’t mind her confirming his story.
A broad hand clamped down on the face of the phone, depressing the hook, before tearing the old-fashioned instrument completely off the wall.
“No calls,” he growled. The fierce expression that still claimed his face now extended to his voice, making the growl animal-like.
Lucky dropped the receiver and it clatte
red on the floor. “Why can’t I call the office?” Fear trickled into her veins.
“Stop asking questions. I don’t have any answers for you yet.” He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into the hallway of the ranch-style home.
When he reached the largest of the three bedrooms he flung her to the bed. A new kind of fear awakened inside her.
“Don’t move,” he warned before turning away.
She exhaled a shaky breath, immediately exiling thoughts of physical assault from her brain. He just wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. As she watched he rifled through the closet. Eventually he pulled out a pair of jeans and tossed them on the bed next to her. While she watched, he emptied his pockets onto the dresser and placed his cell phone and gun there as well. He toed off the loafers he wore and reached for the fly of his trousers.
Lucky turned away.
The whir of the zipper was followed by the whisper of fabric against skin. In her peripheral vision she saw the trousers he’d been wearing land on the floor before he tugged on the pair of jeans and fastened them. When she heard the zipper go up, she turned toward him as he poked first one foot and then the other into his shoes.
“Just tell me,” she said calmly, which amazed her, “what is it we’re going to do?” If they couldn’t call anyone, surely he had a plan.
As if she hadn’t said a word, he stalked back to the closet and started prowling once more. The jeans were a size too small judging by the way they looked shrink-wrapped to his backside and thighs. She blinked and focused her attention on the dresser.
He’d left the gun lying there.
Anticipation made her nerves jump. She visually measured the distance between him and the dresser and her position on the bed and the dresser. About equal. If he was distracted enough, she might make it. Having the gun and the upper hand would be nice for a change.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he turned around and strode back to the dresser. He filled the tight pockets of the jeans with the change and whatnot and tucked the gun into his waistband.
