“King used tax records for all the people working at Brice’s ranch. We made an educated decision on who might be Adam’s mother based on the time she worked there and when she stopped getting paid. Once we had Jackie Howard’s name and social, we found Adam’s birth certificate. If Adam has a family, he should be returned to them.”
“I know, but . . .” She didn’t know what to say, except she’d promised to take care of him and hadn’t thought about having to give him up. Sadness swamped her heart. She missed him already. She wanted to keep him.
“His father is a piece of work. He’s in jail. Will be for the next twenty years,” King told them. “The only other family Adam has is a grandmother raising two other grandchildren in a trailer park in Florida on her public assistance and not much else. Adam’s cousins are ten and twelve and headed for a life of crime according to their school rap sheets and their many detentions for stealing and fighting.”
Ashley shook her head in dismay. “How do you know all this?”
“King has a love affair with his computer.”
“And beautiful actresses,” he flirted, making Beck pull her to his other side and farther away from King, who snickered like a teenage boy.
“Get your own. She’s mine.”
Ashley’s heart expanded with that sweet sentiment. It didn’t feel possessive in the way that Brice made her feel, like some object he coveted. She felt wanted and cherished.
“I’ve got an op that will take me inside the prison where Adam’s father is incarcerated.” King’s eyes narrowed as he got lost in thought. “I’d like to use him to get to the guys I need to get close to, and if we play our cards right, maybe he’ll sign over custody to you, Ashley. Otherwise, I see Adam living in squalor and on the same path as his cousins in a few short years.”
“That can’t happen.” Ashley didn’t even want to think about what would happen to Adam’s fragile psyche if he was put in yet another volatile home. He needed a place where he felt safe and protected and loved. The grandmother might be doing the best she could, but Ashley could do better. She had the resources to do a hell of a lot better. And she would.
They entered the dark house, and Beck and King made her wait in the kitchen while they checked the place top to bottom again, making sure Brice or anyone else hadn’t snuck in while they were out back looking at that poor man who lost his way when his admiration for Brice turned down a dark road. Literally in this case, as that dark road led him to his death.
Ashley spread the files Beck had given her on the table and sorted through them, discarding the financial records along with the property and vehicle papers. She opened the file containing the guardianship papers and read them, frowning that they seemed legit and in order. As she turned the last page over, she gasped at the photographs beneath. One after another of an older gentleman with a very young girl. She slammed the file shut, unable to look at the disturbing pictures anymore. She understood now how Brice got guardianship of Adam.
She set the folder aside to use later. The next folder she opened contained more explicit photographs and an SD card from a digital camera. She recognized the famous actor immediately. She’d never worked with him, but he was on her short list of actors she’d kill to work with on any project. The other man in the photos lay dead in the snow out back.
She didn’t know why Brice had these photos, but understood he’d use them as leverage against the A-list actor for something. If he hadn’t already.
She went through other folders, stacking the ones Brice could use for blackmail with the one with the guardianship papers. Brice had dirt on a lot of influential people. Some she recognized from the times he forced her to watch them commit their crimes, so she’d know that if she went against Brice he’d have leverage over her. She didn’t know all their names or their positions, but she’d sort it out later and see what she needed to take Brice down.
She turned the last folder toward her. Worn and wrinkled more than the others, the seams were a bit torn and ragged. A rubber band held the whole thing together. She pulled it off and opened the cover, then slammed it shut. The rage and panic that seized her heart, squeezed her chest, and made her head feel like it would explode pressed against every cell of her body.
She opened the folder again and faced the past in graphic detail. One picture after the next of the hell she’d endured. A plastic bag filled with SD cards. A hidden camera the only witness to her living nightmare. Unable to bear the memories that played out from seeing the still images, she slammed the folder shut and pressed both hands on top of it. Her head hung as she tried to find her breath and ease the panic and sorrow that washed through her.
“Ashley.” Beck’s soft voice held so much concern it brought tears to her eyes, but she fought them back. She’d shed enough tears for what happened to her. “What is it, sweetheart?”
King reached for the folder with the photographs of the famous actor. She slammed her hand down on it so he couldn’t see or take it. No one should ever see them.
No one should invade another person’s privacy in that way.
“You can’t have that.” She didn’t look at either of them, just kept her hands pinned on top of both folders.
“It’s evidence,” King pointed out.
“No. It’s not. It has nothing to do with my case. It’s vile and inhuman and will never be seen by anyone.” She turned and pinned Beck in her gaze. “I will not let him hurt anyone else.”
“Is someone else in danger?” Beck needed to know if they had to help someone else escape Brice’s hold or twisted adoration.
“No.” She scooted the folder close to her. “This is blackmail. Pure and simple and ugly.” She picked it up and tucked it under her arm. “I need to use your phone.”
Beck handed it over without asking anything more.
She could keep these photos from ever seeing the light of day. She could allow a man to keep his secret and choose when and if he ever wanted others to know.
She didn’t have that luxury. Her file was indeed evidence.
She turned her focus back to the thick folder underneath her hand.
“What is that one?” Beck asked, touching her shoulder softly.
“It wasn’t enough to have the reality of his dream come true. He needed a way to relive it over and over again.”
“No.” Beck wanted to deny what he knew was in the folder.
“Still shots from the videos he taped. The SD cards with God knows how many videos. Proof beyond a doubt of what he did to me.” And when they got out, they’d go viral and everyone would see the humiliation and torture he inflicted on her. She didn’t say the last part, but she read the fear in Beck’s eyes that he’d thought the same thing.
“I will save this person from that humiliation even if I can’t save myself.” She handed the folder to King, hoping he gave it to the right people and Beck never saw what was in that folder.
“These are the folders of the others Brice is blackmailing, though they actually committed a crime or got caught doing something immoral. We will decide what to do with them later. So don’t give them to the cops.”
Beck nodded his agreement. “You know what this means—he’s lost his leverage.”
“Which makes him even more dangerous if he’s stupid enough to stay here and not flee the country.” King pointed out what they were all thinking.
She walked away from both of them, straight into Beck’s room, and slammed the door. She checked Beck’s phone and found he had Skype. She didn’t have the actor’s user name, so called the one person who could get her anything.
“Hello,” the sleepy voice whispered.
“Wake up, Stuart, I need your help.”
“Ashley. My God, is that really you? How are you? Are you okay? The press has been hounding me. They said Brice got away.”
“He did. Darren just got shot trying to kidnap me for Brice, so it’s been a crazy night. The cops will be here soon and I need to take care of something before they a
rrive.”
Her publicist yawned but got down to business. “Anything you need? Anything at all. Do you want me to spread the word about Darren?”
“No. I need you to get Danny Radford to Skype me at this user name right now.” She read off the odd sequence of letters and numbers Beck used for his profile.
“No one just calls Danny Radford at this ungodly hour.”
“Stuart, I know you know him and can make this happen. I need to talk to him now, before it’s too late,” she added, hoping Beck and King didn’t change their mind about letting her walk away with the folder. If the cops arrived and discovered she had it, they’d want to see it. She couldn’t take that chance. “Make this happen, Stuart. I’ll be waiting, but if it takes too long, I won’t be able to save him. Please.” She needed to save him for her own peace of mind.
“You got it. I’m on it.”
The line went dead. While she slowly went crazy waiting for the call, she stacked pieces of kindling on the dying coals, a few wads of newspaper in between that caught quickly and flared to life, then added a log to start the blaze rising in the hearth. She sat on the floor, the folder held protectively against her chest and Beck’s phone in her hand. It dinged with a request to accept a request to be added as a contact. She accepted and waited for the call to come through.
An odd ringtone sounded. She accepted the call and turned on the video on her side so Danny, one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, could see her.
“Hello, Mr. Radford.” Though they were close in age, she gave him the respect he deserved as an elite actor in the business. “I assume Stuart told you who I am.”
“No one needs to tell me who you are, Ashley. Please, call me Danny.” He turned on his video and his sleepy face and bed head hair appeared on her screen.
“I apologize for waking you. Do you know why I’m calling you?” She hoped he had some idea since news broke that Brice kidnapped her.
“Are you alone?”
She held the phone in front of her and moved it around Beck’s room so he could see that she was indeed alone. “This is between you and me and will remain so,” she promised.
“And what is this, Ashley?” The skepticism and anger in his voice warned her that he expected the worst.
A man in his position, with as much clout as he had in Hollywood—she didn’t doubt he expected her to do exactly what Brice had done to him.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”
“Yes. I’m very sorry about what happened to you. I saw the footage of you at the hospital, the way you looked . . .” His mouth pressed in a grim line and his famous blue eyes filled with sorrow. “I can’t imagine what he did to you.”
“He hurt me,” she stated simply. “He hurt you, too. Maybe not in the same way, but that’s what he did.”
“My fault for trusting the wrong person,” Danny admitted, talking about Darren and how he’d probably thought their relationship would remain secret.
“I trusted the wrong person, too. I know how it feels to think one thing, open yourself to that person, and then find out they used and betrayed you. That’s why I called to tell you Darren was shot and killed not even an hour ago trying to kidnap me. And you are safe now.”
Danny’s eyes widened with surprise and hope.
She moved the phone so that he could see the folder sitting on the hearth. She opened it and he swore when he saw the first picture. She picked it up and set it on top of the flaming log. It caught, shriveled, and disintegrated into ash. She set the others in the fire to burn, allowing Danny to see that all of them were destroyed. Then she untaped the SD card and tossed it into the flames. It flared and sparked and melted into a completely destroyed piece of plastic.
She turned the phone back to her.
Danny stared at her, silent tears streaking down his face. “What do you want?”
“The same thing I want for myself. For you to be free and happy. Brice took those things from us. I swear to you, no one else has seen this, and I will never say a word about what was in that folder. That is my promise and my bond with you. I will never break either under any circumstances. You have my word. I hope you believe it.”
Danny raked his fingers through his hair and stared back at her. “I believe you. Thank you, Ashley. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I’m not asking you for anything. I’ll end with this—I admire you and your work. Live your life however you choose, but never stop doing what you love.”
Danny nodded, understanding that she truly didn’t want to take advantage. “I’m overwhelmed. When you’re back in town, I’d love to see you and thank you in person.”
Ashley smiled. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll feed you. You’re too skinny, beautiful.” A touch of the charm that earned him his fame and countless fans showed in his grin.
“Oh, you’re definitely buying.”
“What the hell is going on?” Beck’s demand held a hint of jealousy that melted her heart. He peered over her shoulder. “Is that . . .”
“Danny Radford, meet my boyfriend, Special Agent Beck Cooke.”
“Amazing job saving Ashley,” Danny said, by way of hello.
“What is going on?” Beck asked, completely confused and off-kilter by her calling him her boyfriend.
She had to admit, it rolled off her tongue so easily.
Ashley tossed the folder in the fire to let Beck know the reason for the call was the contents she’d already destroyed.
“Danny invited me to a meal when I return to L.A.”
“Keep her safe,” Danny ordered. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing her a lot in the future.” Danny winked at her. “Bye, beautiful.”
Danny’s face disappeared as he ended the call.
She tilted her head way back to look up at Beck.
His gaze narrowed on her. “Do I have competition?”
“I’m not his type.”
Beck gave her a look like she was every man’s type. She cocked her head and eyed him, hoping he got her meaning.
His eyes went wide with understanding. “Oh.”
“That stays between us.”
Beck nodded. “Okay. I assume that has something to do with whatever was in that folder.”
“What folder?”
“Right.” He crouched and brushed his hand over her hair. “You’re a really good person.”
“I did the right thing. He needed to know Brice can’t hurt him anymore.”
“The cops are here and they want to get my girlfriend’s statement.” This time, the smile he gave her lit his eyes with a happiness she’d never seen in them.
She gave herself a second to bask in the joy filling her heart that they’d found each other and something wonderful despite all the bad in their lives.
“Can I stay in here with you and relive our evening by the fire instead?”
His eyes darkened with need and a hunger that matched her own. He leaned in and kissed her softly, lingering over the sweet task, letting her know how much he wanted that, too. “No. But the sooner we get these people out of here, the sooner I can be alone with you again.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He stood and pulled her up with him and straight into his arms. “This will soon be over for you, too.” Beck understood exactly what she’d done tonight and what she wanted for herself. She’d ended Danny’s torture. Now she wanted it to end once and for all for herself.
That would only happen with Brice behind bars, or dead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brice’s patience wore thin the longer he spent waiting for that fucking cop to come home. If the sheriff wouldn’t help him, Sergeant Foster would. The hours he spent in this little hovel of a home with the cold congealed bacon grease from yesterday morning stinking up the kitchen were about to be rewarded. As night turned to dawn turned to a morning spent eating stale cereal while he waited, his fury rose that the fucking cop slept in some lover’s bed
while Brice had forced himself to stay awake for just this moment.
Sergeant Foster walked in the front door and headed straight for the table, where he tossed his change and keys in the bowl Brice spotted earlier, anticipating the man was a creature of habit. That routine allowed Brice to gain the upper hand on the armed cop. He stepped out of the office on the other side of the wide foyer from the kitchen and swung.
The bat hit Foster in the back of the head with a sickening crack. The sergeant crumpled like a demolished building. Brice snatched the gun from his belt and tucked it behind his back in the waistband of his black trousers. He stared down at the unconscious man with a smug, satisfied smile.
“Take that.” Brice used to play on the After Midnight softball team. They faced off with the Marked cast. A bunch of tough guys who played SWAT team members on a popular TV show. Brice might not look like a jock, but he could hold his own.
Brice clamped his hand around the big man’s wrist, dragged him into the office, and rolled him to his back. He pulled his hands together and tied them with the rope he found in the garage.
Foster’s eyes squinted with pain. He groaned as he regained consciousness. Brice worked fast, using Foster’s disorientation to pull him up and into a chair. The man tried to fight, but the head injury made his movements slow and ineffective against Brice’s steady head and speed. He had the man’s ankles tied to the chair legs in less than a minute. Foster struggled more. Brice took the bat in hand and jabbed it hard into Foster’s sternum to get his attention.
Foster coughed and tried to catch his breath, sucking in air that didn’t fill his lungs at first, but then he regained his breath and his head and glared up at Brice.
“There now. I have your attention.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“An answer to a simple question. Who has Adam?”
Foster shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Brice punched him.
Foster’s head snapped to the side. Blood dripped out of his cut lip and down his chin. He worked his jaw, then spit blood, hitting Brice right in the face. The goopy spittle rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his sleeve looking at the bloody mess. He hit Foster again, breaking his nose and sending a gush of blood out his nostrils. This time when Foster’s head snapped back, then forward he had the sergeant’s full attention. And hopefully his cooperation.
Montana Heat: Escape to You Page 22
