She didn’t. She so didn’t, but people she cared about were getting hurt. Good people. People like Annie and Titus and, somehow, it all linked back to her father and his cons.
Friends… I never thought I’d have friends, but Gemma’s right.
She took a deep, shuddering breath that hurt her lungs.
These were her friends; they’d wormed into her heart, and she wanted them to stay. Wanted it so much she ached. Trusting one another was something friends would do.
Unexpected tears blurred Sophie’s eyes.
Annie gripped her hand. “We don’t judge, Soph. You can tell us, and it will go to our graves.” One of Annie’s hands moved to the welts on her neck.
Watching Annie’s fingers drift along the bruises and seeing bright, strong Titus with a bandage on his head, small and vulnerable in the hospital bed caused something inside Sophie to splinter.
In stuttering sentences, she told them about her life with her father, finding out he’d been nothing but a con man who fleeced the needy. The fear that somehow her own daddy had used her, played her. The paying back to all the people her father had stolen from. The fear of losing Titus, Annie being hurt, and how it all looped back to her father.
“Oh, Sophie.” Gemma pulled her into a hug, tears sliding down her face.
After letting the warmth of Gemma seep into her, their tears mixing, she pulled back. “Another thing. Now I’ve made you cry.” She sniffed.
“Don’t worry about her, she cries at Super Bowl commercials.” Annie waved her hand, her eyes glossy. “I’m sorry, Soph. You’ve had some shit thrown at you. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, and where I come from women are born with a set of balls.”
“You’re going to pay everyone back?” Gemma said, finally releasing her hand.
“Every single one,” she whispered.
“How are you going to stop whoever is doing this?” Annie asked.
An idea had germinated in her head.
“Gemma, the person who phoned you, do you have the number?”
Gemma dug through her handbag for her phone. With her face screwed up in concentration, she eventually handed the phone to Sophie. “This is the number.”
Sophie took the phone, punched in the number on her phone, and sat back, her body vibrating.
“You’ve got a look on your face, Soph. A look I don’t like.” Annie leaned forward. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she lied, knowing exactly what she was going to do.
“Have you talked to Harlan about what’s happening?” Gemma asked, looking worried.
Sophie shook her head. “He won’t talk to me. Besides I’ve got my own game plan, and it doesn’t involve anyone else getting hurt.” Sophie squeezed Gemma’s hand.
“If you need us for anything, call. I mean anything,” Gemma said.
Emotion rippled up Sophie’s throat. She nodded, unable to speak.
“Girl, we’ve got your back.” Annie dipped her cracker into a bowl, scooped out vanilla ice cream, and popped it into her mouth.
“I think you should talk to Harlan. I have a good feeling in my bones.” Gemma nibbled salt from her margarita glass.
Annie widened her eyes. “She should absolutely not talk to him.”
A smile drifted across Gemma’s face. “Let yourself fall for him, Soph. Love is beautiful and, if you let it, it will fill you with joy.”
Annie turned in her seat, a brow arched. “Says the woman who’s never been in love.”
“Says the woman who loves with her soul.” Gemma countered. “I don’t think you should give up on him, Soph. He’s searching for a connection, he just doesn’t know it.” Gemma popped Pringles into her mouth.
“It’s too much of an emotional risk.” Annie leaned back in her seat.
She’d have to side with Annie. It was way too much of an emotional risk with a bleak outlook. She couldn’t tell them, couldn’t tell anyone, about the humiliation of losing herself to three previous lovers and almost losing herself to Harlan in Vegas.
“By the way…” Gemma raised her eyebrows repeatedly. “Dug has been asking after you. A lot. I didn’t tell him you were in Vegas with Mr. Broody, but the man is keen, Soph.”
“Go for it, girl. I approve of that one. Dug materialized out of nowhere and tore that man off me like a Band-Aid.” Annie scraped the bottom of the bowl of ice cream with crackers.
Sophie caught the tremble in Annie’s hand. The woman was tough, but this had rattled her.
“We need a distraction, and I’ve got the solution.” Annie stood and walked to the DVD player. “What we need is to critique terrible porn, and that’s an order.”
An out-of-focus logo filled the television screen.
The warmth of friendship and feeling mentally and physically exhausted stole over Sophie like a gentle, summer rain. The last thing she remembered was Gemma laughing at Megatron’s not so mega tron.
Sophie woke to Annie shaking her.
“Honey, your phone’s going off every couple of minutes.”
“What?” Sophie struggled to a sitting position.
“You fell asleep an hour ago and now your phone is ringing constantly.”
Adrenaline pushed the margarita haze aside. She grabbed her phone as it started ringing, Pongo’s face on the screen. Only one person would be calling every few minutes. Sure enough, his name appeared on the bottom of the screen in big, ominous letters.
“Hello,” she rasped.
Harlan’s clipped tone filled her ear. “I’m standing outside to take you back to your place.” He paused. “And tomorrow, Sophie, you’re going to talk to me.”
Her hand tightened around her phone. “No, Harlan, tomorrow you’re going to talk to me.”
…
“So we’re going to talk, right?” Sophie spooned oatmeal into her mouth the next morning. She’d checked in with the nurse looking after Titus, who was fine, but Sally hadn’t slept well and the nurse wanted them both to have a quiet day. Today was the day they talked about her plan.
“I can’t, Sophie. I have to go.”
Harlan stood across from her, not looking happy, stuffing his phone back into his jeans. Lines hugged the corners of his eyes, which were underscored by faint bruising. He hadn’t slept well, nor had she. The second she moved away from him, he hauled her back. She’d gone to the bathroom sometime during the night to find him waiting by the bathroom door. He’d said nothing when he followed her back to bed. Something was up, but he wasn’t going to share it with her.
“Really…” Sophie said with a long breath.
“I have to make this meeting.”
She counted to five before replying. “Of course you do.”
He leaned in and kissed her jaw. She kept her face neutral, while her heart played pinball on her ribcage.
“I’ll be back in one hour, then we talk about Vegas.”
“Vegas?” The word shot out of her mouth.
“Yeah, Vegas.”
She put the bowl on the countertop instead of throwing it at him. “Not about who hurt Titus and Annie?”
“No.” His answer was swift and brutal.
She pushed up on the balls of her feet, her body tense. “It’s me they are after. It’s my life we’re talking about. People are getting hurt because of me.”
Yet again, another stare off.
“One hour,” Harlan said.
She let out her breath. “You’re such an ass.”
He laughed and headed out the door.
Nothing had changed. Nothing would change.
He’d spoon-feed her what he wanted her to know.
Enough.
No sooner had the locks flipped than Sophie ran to her bedroom. She changed into jeans and her lucky Kansas City Chiefs shirt. She pulled on a gray sweatshirt and tucked her hair into a baseball cap. She sent Gemma’s mystery caller a text that said to meet her in one hour at the Starbucks at Cherry Creek Mall and Titus a text that she’d see
him later. She grabbed a can of dog food on the way out the door.
I hope Fang’s hungry.
An hour later, she paid the cabbie. Nerves executing dive rolls in her stomach, she forced her feet forward toward the suburban shopping mall.
She walked into the Starbucks on high alert. She’d negotiate the terms of a settlement for what her father had stolen, and then no one else would get hurt.
After a few minutes, her name was called as a hand cupped her elbow.
“Come with me.”
A man guided her toward the exit.
She turned and scanned the man.
Middle-aged. Brown hair, forgettable.
He led her to a black Jeep, buckled her in, and then walked to his side of the car. A man sat in the backseat on his cell phone. Sophie turned in her seat to look at him. He was younger than the driver with a scar that cut a diagonal red slash across his face. His cold, brown eyes held hers, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in unison.
“You don’t look like the usual prayer-for-cash con my father ran, so I’m guessing something different?” she said casually as they pulled into traffic.
If this man came with the two Jeeps that had previously tailed her, her father must have played in a bigger con job than she’d anticipated. She kept count of the number of turns the SUV executed.
The driver smiled, his eyes on the road. “My boss, he’s looking forward to meeting you. He has plans…”
The way he said the last word slithered down her spine and landed in her bowels.
“Yes, payment plans.” Her mouth dried. “We need to negotiate terms of the debt my father owed and work out a payment plan.”
“You’re prettier than I thought. Maybe if things don’t work out with my boss, you and I…” His gaze lingered on her breasts.
The man in the back chuckled.
Stay strong, Buttercup.
Right now she did not need her father in her head, especially since he was the reason she sat here.
She pressed her knees together.
Harlan would be walking into her place, carefully hanging his keys on the hooks screwed into her kitchen wall while calling her name. He’d throw Pongo a treat, then gently pull on her dog’s ears until Pongo would lay splayed on the floor.
Damn.
She turned to the driver. “Let’s get this done so we can both get on with our lives and no one else will get hurt.”
A flash of metal caught her eye. A sharp pain in her neck.
Shit.
Her fingers probed the raising welt.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She fought the wave pushing her down. She fought the fear paralyzing her that she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. One she may not survive.
She struggled against the tranquilizer, but it became a losing battle.
The driver said something. Before she slipped into unconsciousness, her brain processed that they’d picked up the wrong person.
Oh, she’d totally screwed up.
It wasn’t Sophie Callaghan they wanted, but some chick named Sarah Something.
Chapter Seventeen
Harlan pressed his foot on the accelerator, and the Viper responded instantly. The meet with Babic would hopefully give him an answer. The unease that curled his gut wasn’t abating. Babic’s insistence he hand over the case files wasn’t sitting right. Babic had sent repeated texts, which Harlan had ignored. Yesterday one of his men turned up at the office with an order from Babic that his man wasn’t leaving without them. Zeb hadn’t taken too kindly when given the message. The man had left empty-handed.
The package sent to Titus turned out to be another snow globe, but Mick hadn’t delivered it. He’d been found by chance by a guy changing his tire on a disused track hundreds of miles away from Denver. The man’s dog had wandered and found the shallow grave. Wildlife had taken their shot before the dog found him. The coroner didn’t have a lot to go on, but there was just enough of him left for a positive ID from his sister, along with the wallet in his jeans.
Harlan had driven to his office to meet with Zeb who’d also had no sleep and looked like shit. Keeping an eye on Annie, who did not want to be watched, Zeb was running on fumes. He and Zeb had analyzed the possibilities. Who knew about the snow globes? The name that kept coming up was Babic.
Petrov had been in contact minutes after Harlan had sent him abbreviated file notes on a semi-secure line, including Sophie’s birthmark and that someone had been sending her snow globes, but the person they had thought responsible had been found dead. Petrov had surprised him by asking if she collected snow globes. He replied that O’Connor had apparently given her the first one, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. After a stretch of silence, Petrov said in a rough voice that he wanted to meet with her as soon as he was back in the country, but dismissed the idea that Babic had any ill intentions toward Sophie. Harlan wasn’t convinced, so he’d lured Babic to a meet this morning with the promise of turning over the files.
Harlan walked into Babic’s office without knocking, a manila folder tucked under his arm with sheets of bare facts on Sophie. Height, weight, age. Nothing that tied her to Petrov.
Babic spun in his chair, snapped the cover of his laptop closed, and stood, a cold smile on his face.
“Finally you have acknowledged my level of authority.” Babic held out his hand. “Case files.”
Harlan smiled through the cramp in his jaw and kept his body loose.
“Why are you sending Sophie snow globes?” he asked quietly.
Nothing moved on Babic’s face.
Babic crossed his arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is a snow globe?”
The strong, nauseating scent of Babic’s cologne filled the office. He stared at Harlan, the lines on his forehead deepening. A tic pulsed in his jaw.
Harlan advanced.
Babic’s gaze landed on the folder. He licked his lips.
“Titus? Not very nice beating up an old man.” Harlan kept his voice deliberately low and smooth.
Again, nothing moved on Babic’s face, expect the slight flare of his nostrils.
Babic held out his hand. “I know nothing of a Titus.” His fists curled. “That you think I’d beat up an old man means you know nothing about me.” A cold grin curled his lips. “I shall make it known to Petrov what you have accused me of.” A look of cold fury spread across his face. “The case files,” he said in a voice that would scare the crap out of most men.
Harlan studied him for a beat longer. Had he got it wrong? Nothing in Babic’s answers indicated that he knew anything about snow globes. Nothing in his body language gave him away when he’d mentioned Titus, but still, something held him back.
Babic’s cell cut through the tense silence. He stalked to his desk, his eyes never leaving Harlan. He slid his finger across the glass and answered with a terse “yes.” His eyes widened before he turned his back.
Harlan strained to hear any of the conversation, but could hear nothing. Babic stayed silent.
The hairs on the back of Harlan’s neck flamed into life.
Babic turned, a triumphant smile on his face.
A smile that twisted Harlan’s bowel.
Babic picked up his computer and tucked it under his arm.
Harlan went to block him, holding out the folder, but Babic brushed past him, surprising Harlan with his speed and strength.
“I no longer need your notes.” Babic wrenched open the door and walked with determination toward the parking lot, not once looking back.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Harlan jogged out of Babic’s office toward his car, his phone at his ear. Zeb confirmed everything was as it should be.
Whatever had gone down with Babic’s phone call had changed the man’s demeanor. He’d gone from pissed and surly to victorious.
He had something on Sophie.
He skidded out of the parking lot toward Sophie’s place, his blood running cold.
Zeb had checked in with the entire team of covert operatives guarding Sophie’s house. A gardening crew was across the street. A meter reader walked the block. A man whose car had broken down looked bored while on his phone waiting for AAA. Harlan had driven away, seemingly leaving Sophie unguarded.
He’d put five men on the first street behind her house. He put another five men on the second cross street. Sophie was covered. No one had anything to report. But the meet with Babic didn’t add up. They had to have missed something.
“Sophie.”
Harlan hooked his keys on the rack in the kitchen, noting a mug in the sink.
If he had to relive an image of Titus in the hospital—a bandage on the old man’s head, Sally curled into a ball in a chair, her eyes locked on her husband’s, her face deathly pale—one more time, he’d explode.
No one else would be hurt.
“Soph,” he called again.
Nothing.
Harlan walked into the bedroom and stopped dead at the unmade bed.
Sophie always made the bed. Everything else in the place could resemble a tornado hit, but the bed had to be made. The sheets had to have hospital corners, covers smoothed, and a million pillows piled on.
Shit.
Please make this an administration fuckup, and she’s sitting with one of my staff.
He dropped into work mode and did a thorough recon of the house, his intestines trying to bail out his ass. He pulled out his phone and called Zeb, who barked that no one had her, and he’d be there in ten.
No sign of Sophie.
He jogged to Titus’s, hoping like hell she sat across from Sally having a cup of tea. The fresh-faced nurse told him Titus and Sally were resting and no, she hadn’t seen Sophie.
Zeb’s car rolled to a halt behind Israel’s. Zeb exited the car, already in conversation.
“Annie doesn’t know where she is. She’s going to check with Gemma and Pipe and get back to me.”
Harlan closed his eyes, assessing the information.
Sophie had vanished.
Under his watch.
How the fuck had she disappeared?
His heart beat so hard it hurt his head, but it was nothing like the pain driving adrenaline around his body.
They had nothing.
Bound to the Bounty Hunter Page 22
