by Davy, Wendy;
“What’s happening? It’s Aston isn’t it?” Skylar asked.
“Yeah.” A jaw muscle twitched. “And Mayhew.”
“What do they want? Did they follow us here from my uncle’s house?”
“I don’t think so. Barnes said they were driving by on the way to the garage, saw the sedan.” Slade’s features turned grim as his brows drew together in a tight pinch. “He wants me to follow them to the garage. There’s no time to drop you off. You’re going to have to come with me.”
Blood drained from her head to her toes. After last night’s ordeal, she never wanted to see that garage again. “If they find me with you, we’ll both be targets.”
“Then we’ll have to make certain they don’t see you.”
“What are you going to do? Stuff me into the trunk?”
“I hope it won’t come to that.”
“You hope?” No way could she handle being locked inside a confined space. “I’d panic in there.”
Slade glanced her way. “Barnes doesn’t want anyone to know he’s using the old garage so he always parks inside. I’ll park outside. There’s no reason for them to come close to the sedan. If you stay down, you should be all right. Odds are they’re more interested in tracking Willow than searching my car.” Slade started the engine and pulled onto the street.
“How did you explain the two coffee cups you carried out of the store?”
“I told them I was up all night dealing with you. I said I needed the extra caffeine. I gave a few descriptive details of what I did to you. They both seemed impressed by my imagination.”
A shudder passed through her, shaking her from the inside out. “You must be very convincing.”
Slade reached back and grasped her hand and lowered his voice into that soothing everything-will-be-all-right tone. “I’m not the cruel, heartless person they think I am.”
“I know,” she whispered. Slade had a passion for justice—not only for his sister, but for others in need. She settled her hand deeper in his as compassion converged with overwhelming gratitude.
Lord, thank You for bringing this man into my life.
He slowed the sedan and turned the wheel right. The vehicle bounced and jarred on a gravel road. They must be getting close. Skylar’s nerves pitched a fit. Her stomach knotted. She felt like throwing up.
“We’ll be there soon,” Slade confirmed. “I want you to keep the gun with you. I’ll leave the car keys in the ignition in case you need to drive away on your own.”
“You mean, in case they suspect something and kill you?”
“Well, there’s always that chance.”
Fear, raw and sickening, wedged its way into her chest. “Then don’t go inside.”
“I have to finish this, one way or another.” Slade released her hand, ran a palm over his five o’clock shadow. “If something does happen to me, tell Sarah…” His voice cracked as his words faded. His love for his sister was as transparent as sparkling glass.
Skylar’s blood pounded in her ears as a deep longing burst forth, strong and swift as a river’s current. What would it be like to have this man’s unconditional love and devotion? That kind of bond could not be broken. Not by time, distance, or even death. Powerful, everlasting loyalty was in Slade’s DNA.
“Promise me you’ll tell her I love her.”
“I promise, but I have a feeling she already knows.”
17
Slade parked in the garage’s gravel lot and cut the engine. It was time to slide into his criminal persona and pretend to be a lowlife. The thought left a bitter taste in his soul. He liked who he was, on the proper side of the law. He liked the way Skylar had begun to look at him without fear and with growing respect and admiration. He didn’t want that to change. After Barnes drove into the garage, Slade gave her his full attention. She sat hunched in the corner—eyes closed, hands clasped as if in prayer. Good. He could use all the help he could get.
“I’d better get in there. If something goes wrong,”—He waited for her to open her eyes and then tapped the keys dangling from the ignition—“drive away.”
“You didn’t leave me behind,” she said with a rapid head shake. “I’m not leaving you.”
Her determined words and the spark in her eyes touched him, soothed the distaste of having to deal with Barnes and Mayhew. “I appreciate the thought, but I mean it. Get out of here if you need to.” He exited the sedan before Skylar could voice an argument.
As Slade joined Barnes and Mayhew inside, he squared his shoulders and roughened his voice. “This had better be good. It’s supposed to be my day off.”
Mayhew scuffled across the concrete with shoelaces dragging against the oily surface. His ragged jeans had seen better days and his red T-shirt had three extra holes in it. “What’s eatin’ at you this morning?” He tugged a plaid, flannel shirt over his shoulders. The busy orange and yellow pattern clashed with the T-shirt. “After spending the night with the lady, I’d think you’d be in a better mood.”
“Do us all a favor, Mayhew. Don’t think.” Slade’s voice boomed across the room.
“You two shut up and get over here.” Barnes led the way to an office tucked behind rusty machinery. He keyed open the door and flicked on overhead fluorescent lights. A rat scurried across the floor, squeezed into a crevice, and disappeared behind the wood paneling.
The sooner Slade finished this job, the better. His tolerance for rodents was diminishing, and not just the four-legged kind. Slade kept his attitude apparent as he slumped into a cracked plastic chair. “Is this going to take long?” He checked his watch. He didn’t have to exaggerate his impatience or his fatigue. It had been a long night.
Mayhew settled into one of three remaining seats and crossed an ankle over his bony knee, not bothering to hide his antagonism. “You have somewhere else to be?”
Slade quirked his lips into a half-smile. “Yes. I need sleep. Last night was…exhausting.”
“I’ll bet.” Mayhew looked envious.
Revulsion slithered up his spine. What would Mayhew have done to Skylar? Slade didn’t want to think about it.
“You can sleep later.” Barnes took his position of authority behind the dented metal desk. The chair, which was in no better shape than the others, creaked beneath his weight. “We have a situation.”
Tension knotted Slade’s muscles as he focused on the fathomless intensity in Barnes’s eyes. Seconds ticked by, accentuated by a wall clock that somehow still worked. Slade looked forward to the day he’d never have to lay eyes on Barnes again, or this rat-infested, dingy garage.
“What’s up?” Slade asked when Barnes continued to stare.
“On the way home last night, Ike and I drove past Willow Hayworth’s apartment. Lights were out, no car in the driveway. Later, I attempted to trace Willow’s cell signal, couldn’t pick it up. This morning we drove past her father’s estate. Her car wasn’t there either.”
Slade had hoped Barnes would take a few days to regroup before pursuing Willow—considering last night’s mix-up—but apparently the man had a one track mind. “Maybe she stayed over at a friend’s house and turned off her phone,” Slade offered.
“There’s more to it than that. I have access to Hayworth Real Estate’s internal network. In order to avoid another fiasco like last night, I checked Willow’s appointment schedule to determine the best time to pick her up, only to find her calendar has been cleared for the next few weeks. I think she may have taken off.” He snapped fingers at Mayhew. “Get my laptop from the van. I’m going to check the passenger manifest on all the flights out of the area in the past twenty-four hours.”
At the mention of the laptop, Slade’s interest spiked. His fingers itched to get a hold of the equipment. But he’d have to figure out a way to distract both Barnes and Mayhew first. Maybe he could create a diversion. Father, please provide a way…I need to access that hard drive.
Mayhew returned with the computer. Barnes set it on the desk, pressed a button. A se
ries of beeps sounded as the computer booted up. After slipping on a pair of reading glasses, Barnes tapped on his keyboard. His face turned grim. “Willow Hayworth and her father boarded a private jet yesterday about the time we picked up that Hart woman.” He slammed a fist on the desk. “They’re on their way to Europe.”
Slade kept a masked expression, although his heart rate increased. He’d asked Winston Hayworth to send Willow somewhere safe but hadn’t known Winston would leave with her. At least Slade could inform Skylar that her uncle wasn’t home and probably wouldn’t be reachable for some time.
“Wait a minute.” Mayhew waved a bony finger at his boss. “If you can access Hayworth’s computers, why not just take the money?”
“If my virus program could do that, I never would’ve planned to kidnap the heiress. And I wouldn’t have had to deal with that little brat last summer. What was her name? Lily?”
Slade’s fists clenched as if on their own volition. Although he would like to punch Barnes, the aggressive act would serve no purpose other than to provide temporary satisfaction. He couldn’t afford that luxury. Still, he wouldn’t let the comment pass. “Five-hundred grand can go a long way. Isn’t it enough?”
“Tell me something.” Barnes leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Do you know what it’s like not to know where your next meal is coming from?”
Slade didn’t answer. He had no personal experience with that kind of deprivation.
“My parents were alcoholics. I spent half my childhood on the streets, fending for myself. I learned to take what I needed to survive. It worked for me then, and it works for me now. My daughter will never go hungry. I’m making certain of that. So to answer your question, I will never have enough money.”
Regardless of Barnes’s motivations, the man had to be stopped. What he was doing was illegal, immoral, and despicable. Slade wanted to tell him as much but for now he had to bide his time. He nodded, as if he agreed with Barnes’s attitude. “So, how does your virus program work?” If nothing else, he could gain a little insight.
“It only lets me view their information,” Barnes explained. “It’s like looking into a mirror. You can see a reflection, but you can’t touch. That’s how I know Hayworth has a couple hundred thousand dollars in his savings account. I’ll show you.” Barnes negotiated the keyboard.
He stilled, and a blank expression crossed his features. “Wait. This isn’t right. Let me check again.” After a moment, his face flushed crimson. “Well gentlemen, holding Willow Hayworth for ransom is no longer a viable option.”
“What? Why?” Mayhew jerked forward. “She’s the perfect target.”
“Not anymore.” Barnes turned the laptop so they could all see. The screen showed a savings account in the real estate’s name with a zero balance. “The money’s gone.” He stood, picked up a glass paperweight and torpedoed it across the room. The object hit the cinderblock wall and shattered into countless pieces.
“But Hayworth’s got more. The guy’s loaded.” Mayhew fumbled. “We can still use Willow. We can get millions out of him.”
“He is worth millions, but the majority of Hayworth’s fortune is tied up in investments. It would take too much time for him to convert his assets to cash. The authorities would nail us before we could finish the job.”
Although glad Barnes wouldn’t have reason to pursue Willow, Slade hid his relief. “Who took the money?”
“I’m going to find out.” Barnes dropped into the chair, adjusted his glasses and ran a computer program. He leaned forward. “That’s odd. The transfer originated from a computer within Hayworth’s office.”
“Maybe they used the money for a business transaction?” Mayhew guessed.
Barnes shook his head. “Doubt it. The account history shows monthly five-thousand dollar donations to a women’s shelter. There’s no record that the money in that account has ever been used for anything else.” He paused a moment. “I’m checking the computer’s IP address, see which employee withdrew the money.” He punched in a few more keys and then his gaze grew taut, heavy with malice. He removed his glasses, sat back, pure hatred seething in his expression. “It’s that woman from last night, Skylar Hart. She stole my money.”
Slade blinked, sat upright and grasped the chair’s armrests. Skylar? No—she had a strong faith, solid morals and convictions. She wouldn’t take the money. Besides, if she’d stolen from her uncle she wouldn’t have been so adamant about speaking with him. She wouldn’t have risked her life to sneak to his house this morning. “There has to be a mistake. Skylar wouldn’t—”
Barnes’s steely gaze targeted Slade. “How would you know what she would or wouldn’t do?”
His stomach sank. He shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. Shouldn’t have reacted at all. “Gut instinct.” Slade backtracked, hoping it wasn’t already too late. “She seemed innocent to me. Besides, she’d never get away with it. Why risk it?”
“I can think of two-hundred thousand reasons why,” Mayhew interjected.
Barnes drummed fingers on the desk, his nails ticking on the metal surface. “Did you meet Skylar Hart before last night?”
Slade might as well be on the witness stand with Barnes acting as judge, jury and executioner. Except Barnes would skip over the trial and jump straight to the verdict. “I never laid eyes on the woman until Mayhew dumped her in my lap.”
Barnes stilled his fingers. The office grew quiet except for the occasional scurrying of rats behind the walls. “And yet you defend her to me as if you know and care about her.”
Yeah, he did care. That fact had become transparent when he’d jumped to her defense. Slade searched for an escape route. Nothing concrete came to mind. “She just didn’t seem the criminal type.”
“Perhaps you’ve got a soft spot for beautiful women. Did she coerce you into letting her go? Or maybe she told you about the money, offered you a payoff in exchange for her life,” Barnes accused.
“Didn’t happen.” Slade ground the words through clenched teeth.
Barnes looked unconvinced.
Slade’s stomach churned and he’d begun to perspire. If Barnes suspected Skylar was still alive, he would use every resource at his disposal to eliminate her. Fear spiked, leaving him cold as ice. But he couldn’t let it show.
Father, give me strength. “Look, either you trust me or you don’t,” Slade challenged.
Barnes closed the laptop and stood. “Well, there is one way to prove your loyalty.”
Slade could guess at Barnes’s intentions, and if he was correct, the outcome wouldn’t bode well—he wouldn’t be accessing the data on that laptop anytime soon. “What do you have in mind?”
“Bring me proof that Skylar Hart is dead, and we’ll put this little misunderstanding behind us.”
18
Skylar couldn’t wait any longer. When Slade finished his business inside the garage he’d be taking her to his cabin where she’d have little, if any privacy. She should’ve called Uncle Winston from the office as soon as she’d discovered the missing money, but she’d panicked, and she hadn’t known she would be kidnapped. She hadn’t known a lot of things were about to happen. As if trapped in quicksand, the longer she waited, the deeper she got sucked into the mire.
After casting a quick peek through the sedan’s window to ensure the men were still inside the garage, Skylar dialed her uncle’s estate. The phone rang five times before the voicemail picked up. Disappointment rushed over her and she disconnected. She tried his cellphone, but he didn’t answer that either.
She had to get through to him. She typed in a text message. Company savings account has been compromised. It’s not what it looks like. Call me. I would never…
Skylar hesitated. She erased the last three words before pressing send. She couldn’t claim she would never steal, because she had. Lord, please forgive me. She rehashed the prayer for what must be the thousandth time, yet guilt lingered. Would her mistakes mark her soul forever?
I forgave you the first time
you asked. The gentle whisper resounded in her heart. Get ready. He needs you.
Skylar popped open eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed. Had Slade’s cover been compromised? She’d been feeling sorry for herself, regretting past sins she’d already been forgiven for while Slade faced the present danger head-on.
But how could she help? If she went inside the garage, Barnes would see her. He’d know she was still alive. Then Slade’s cover would definitely be blown. As she contemplated what to do, the sounds of approaching footsteps alerted her to potential danger. She grabbed the gun—the cold steel a shock against her warm palms—and whispered, “Lord, help me.”
The driver’s side door swung open and Slade’s broad shouldered form filled the doorway. Relieved, she removed her finger from the trigger. Their gazes met as he climbed into the seat. His face pinched into a tight scowl. “I’m going to need that gun.”
Skylar handed it over, glad to be rid of it. “What happened?”
Slade tucked the weapon into his waistband. “Barnes is no longer after Willow Hayworth. The money he’d planned to ransom her for is gone.”
Aston had targeted the charity savings account. But if he hadn’t taken the money, who had? “So, Willow’s no longer in danger?”
“No, but we are. Barnes suspects that you stole the money and then bribed me with it in exchange for your life.”
“W-why would he think that? I didn’t move that money. I discovered the compromised account just before Ike wrestled me from the sidewalk and into the van.” Would Slade believe her? Would he leave her to deal with this on her own? She shook aside the unbidden thoughts. Slade was nothing like her ex-fiancé who had abandoned her at the first sign of trouble. “I thought Aston trusted you. Why would he suspect you’d take a bribe? Did they find out I’m still alive?”
“He’s suspicious because I gave him reason to doubt me.” Slade started the sedan’s engine, turned on the heat. He clasped the wheel with white knuckled intensity as he pulled out of the parking lot. After a moment, he glanced her way. “I never thought you took the money. And I told them as much. That’s where I messed up. Barnes wanted to know why I defended you.”
