Bulletproof Billionaire

by Mallory Kane

  Jones looked at his watch. "Aw, hell. I forgot about the Police Honors Dinner. My wife is receiving an award. She'll kill me if I don't get home right now. It's nearly six o'clock now, and the boat is leaving shore by seven-thirty."

  Seth stopped pacing. "Boat? The Courtesan? Where is it?" His brain raced. In Senegal's office that night, Senegal had griped about Chief Courville dogging his every move. He'd made a vague reference to paying the police chief back for his meddling.

  What if Senegal was planning his grand gesture to coincide with the awards dinner?

  Jones chuckled. "Why? You planning on crashing the party?"

  "I might," Seth said fiercely.

  "The Courtesan is a big-mother, paddle wheel boat," Jones commented. "Probably holds two hundred people."

  Dread certainty settled over Seth like a blanket. He gingerly rubbed the bandage on his broken hand as his brain raced. "Two hundred of NOPD's top brass will be on a paddle wheel boat tonight? What if Senegal's plan is to get his revenge for the crackdown by killing two hundred of New Orleans finest?"

  Bartley spoke up. "That would be way too risky. Senegal's not that stupid. What could he do with two hundred policemen around? You're not thinking straight."

  Seth studied Bartley for an instant. He knew the older man was an ex-con, and he had a big mouth. But Burke had amassed a group of specialists who were the best Seth had ever seen. He couldn't believe Burke had misjudged Bartley.

  "Bartley, are you just an 'aginner'—against everything?" Seth asked. "Or is there some reason every time something comes up about Senegal, all of a sudden you're the expert on what he would and wouldn't do?"

  Bartley pushed his chair back from the table. "If you're suggesting something, Lewis, why don't you spit it out?"

  Burke sat up and Bartley immediately sank back into his chair.

  "Sorry, sir." Seth made himself relax. "Let me check out the boat."

  "You still haven't rested, Lewis. I think you need to cool off for a few hours."

  Seth shook his head. "I can't. I need to do this. It's a long shot, I know. I can't blame you if you think I'm going off half-cocked. But it's just the type of thing Senegal would do. I'll put in my resignation if you want."

  Jones was studying his hands. At Seth's mention of resignation, he looked up. "Burke, I'd like to go with him."

  Seth stared in surprise.

  Jones sent him a sheepish glance. "I've worked with Lewis. He's had some odd ideas, but so far they've always turned out to be right. My wife will be on that boat. I can't afford to find out too late that Lewis was right again. I'll put in my resignation, too."

  Burke's dark eyes flashed. "Nobody will be resigning. You two check out the boat. I'll inform Courville, but I know right now what he's going to say. This has to be a secret operation. Caterers and wait staff are obviously already on the boat, preparing for the dinner. And more will be arriving every minute between now and seven o'clock. We can't afford to panic two hundred people, or tip our hand, for what could be nothing."

  Burke stood. "Lewis and Jones, go ahead. I'll have a readiness team on standby. They can be aboard in seconds if you need them. I'll alert Courville. The surveillance on Senegal stays in case this is a wild goose chase."

  For an instant, Seth felt paralyzed by indecision. If his hunch was wrong, Adrienne would be hours closer to death and he would have wasted valuable time. If he was right, they had to move fast to have any chance of saving her. Her and two hundred other people.

  "You two better get going."

  "Yes, sir."

  Seth and Jones left together. "Jones, I—"

  "Hey, man. You're right too often for me to ignore your hunches. You've got a devious mind."

  "I've seen what Senegal has done to Adrienne in the past. Now he's backed into a corner, and he's losing his power in this city. It's perfect opportunity, with this many powerful people in one place at one time. It's what I'd do."

  Jones shook his head. "Like I said. Devious mind." He pointed toward his car. "Come on, I'll drive."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jones called his wife to tell her he'd pick her up in plenty of time to get to the awards banquet.

  Seth marveled at the difference in Jones's voice as he talked to his bride of a few months. His signature sarcasm and joking attitude were replaced by a gentle teasing wit and loving tone that strangely moved Seth.

  So that was the sound of love.

  Jones turned off his cell phone and pressed his lips tightly together, then sighed audibly.

  "You're not going to pick her up," Seth said.

  Jones shook his head and wiped his face. "Think she could tell I was lying? She'll be chewing tenpenny nails if she misses getting her award and you're wrong about the boat." Jones jabbed a finger in the air toward Seth. "And you, my friend, will have to face the wrath of Emily."

  "I don't think I'm wrong."

  Jones shot a sidelong glance at Seth. "I don't either."

  Before Jones got his car parked, Seth was out and walking briskly toward the dock where The Courtesan waited, as striking as a picture postcard against the sunset-colored sky. Its four decks, with white painted railings and red trim that matched the red paddle wheel, looked as festive as a wedding cake. Steam rose from the small smokestacks at the stern, and the red wheel turned slowly.

  Men in tuxes escorted ladies in evening dress around the decks. White-coated wait staff carried trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

  Uniformed policemen lined the bright white gangplank, lending an air of safety and prestige to the picture.

  The boat held over two hundred people, and tonight most of those people were New Orleans' finest. Seth gave a low whistle.

  "Yeah." Jones walked up in time to hear him. "The mayor, the D.A., Courville and every police captain in the city are expected to attend. Plus a whole host of other higher-ups in politics and the police force. In another half hour, this boat will be a floating time bomb."

  Seth's heart hammered in his throat. "Time bomb." He raised his gaze, and Jones's face turned as white as Seth knew his own was. Bile churned in his stomach. Was Senegal capable of such wholesale slaughter?

  Foolish question.

  "If I'm right, neither Senegal nor any of his lieutenants will be here. And I'll bet you District Attorney Pri-meaux sent his regrets too."

  "You really think Senegal would blow the whole boat up?"

  "Confidential has made his life miserable and made him look like a dupe, and he hasn't been able to figure out who we are or how we're staying ahead of him. Yes. I think he'd blow the whole boat up."

  "Damn, Lewis." Jones shuddered. "Thank God I caught Emily before she decided to drive over here alone."

  Jones called Burke on his mobile transmitter, while Seth surveyed the area around the dock. Nothing overtly suspicious. No black-windowed cars parked a little too far away. No characters that looked like they didn't belong.

  A dull thrum of apprehension beat in his temple like a steel drum. Adrienne was already on the boat. He knew it.

  "Burke says Primeaux is out of town, and so is the mayor. He has no information on Senegal. But very few businessmen are invited. This is an internal police function. The deputy mayor is the keynote speaker, and Chief Courville is introducing him."

  "Let's go." Seth checked his watch. "It's almost seven-thirty. They're about to leave the dock." He nodded toward the boat, where deck hands were casting off the massive lines that held it tethered to the dock. The engines were humming and the boat's whistle blew, warning of its impending departure.

  They walked up the gangplank and stepped onto the boat. Jones spoke quietly to the uniformed officer who was checking invitations and IDs. The officer stiffened in surprise, then spoke into his shoulder mic. After a few seconds, he nodded.

  "Let's go belowdecks. I want to find the engine room." Seth walked toward a set of stairs leading down.

  Seth and Jones descended a second set of stairs. They were in the bowels of the boat. The
engine's rumble surrounded them, becoming louder as the boat pulled away from the dock and gained speed.

  "I worked on a casino boat for a summer," Jones yelled in Seth's ear. "The engine room is toward the stern—the back."

  "You worked on the crew?"

  "Uh, not exactly."

  "What exactly?" Seth shouted.

  "I sang in the show's chorus."

  Seth growled. "I don't have time for this, Jones."

  "Hey. I sneaked down to the boiler room with a dancer one night. Here." Jones pointed at a red door. "Engine room. But there's probably crew in there."

  Seth opened the door and saw two burly men turning huge valves.

  He gave them a mock salute with his bandaged hand. "Seen anything unusual?"

  The men gave him the once-over. The bigger man shook his head. "Nope," he bellowed. "Everything's on time. We're pulling away now."

  Seth nodded and backed out of the room.

  Jones looked around. "It's an awfully big boat."

  "A bomb in the engine room would do the most damage. But they have to make sure it can't possibly be found in time."

  "What about Adrienne?"

  Seth couldn't put words to the vision that rose in his mind at Jones's question. He shook his head grimly. "She's wherever the bomb is." His voice nearly cracked.

  "Let's try the bilge."

  The bilge. Under the engine room, under the decks. The lowest point of the boat. A perfect place to plant a bomb.

  "Good!" A glance at his watch told Seth that they'd been on board almost ten minutes. It was twenty minutes until eight. Twenty minutes until the awards banquet started. Time was running out.

  He leaned close to Jones's ear. "It's probably a hatch cut into the floor."

  Nodding briskly, Jones took out a small, high-powered flashlight and began examining the floor for a seam that would indicate a hatch.

  Seth's gaze roamed the small corridor. He pulled open a wooden door next to the engine room, but it was a storage room, nearly empty. No place to hide a person, not even one as petite as Adrienne.

  "Lewis, I'm going to ask the engine room guys about the bilge. I'm getting the shakes. Not much interested in getting blown to pieces."

  Something caught Seth's eye. Something bright.

  "Jones. In here. I saw something."

  Jones was right behind him with his flashlight. As the bright beam traversed the dull wooden walls, Seth's eyes followed it.

  Then he saw it. A speck of orange.

  "There!" He pointed at the bit of color. It was fabric, caught on a nail, with a few specks of blood staining it.

  "It's her prison jumpsuit. She's here!"

  Jones stepped up close to the nail and examined it. "Probably caught her leg or arm going by. That's where the blood came from." He flipped the light up and shone it along the wall.

  Seth dragged his eyes away from the scrap of cloth. He wanted to grab it, to hold it, to make it give up its secrets about Adrienne's whereabouts, but he knew it was evidence. He couldn't touch it.

  He sighted along the slant of light. "It's another door." He dove for it, palming his weapon before swinging it wide.

  Jones's flashlight beam swept the room. Seth heard a whimpering cry behind him. He whirled.

  There, tethered to a steel pipe on the wall adjacent to the engine room, was his princess. She was gagged with a dirty rag, and the chain between her shackled hands was wired to a steel beam. A black belt was fastened around her waist, and on that belt was a digital timer.

  Seth's knees almost buckled. He'd seen similar devices in Iraq. It was a suicide bomb, a particularly sophisticated one. He'd defused several during his ten years in Special Forces. But this bomb was wired to the one person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world. For a brief agonizing moment, all he could do was stare.

  Adrienne's blue eyes glittered wildly, her hair was a rat's nest of tangles, her cheeks and forehead were streaked with grime.

  "Damn," Jones whispered. "We've got to stop the boat, get the bomb squad."

  Seth knelt in front of Adrienne, whose wide eyes, full of relief and trust, stared up at him.

  With his left hand he clumsily retrieved a knife from his pocket and cut her gag. He carefully removed the rag from her mouth.

  She coughed and sobbed. "Seth—"

  "Stay calm, princess, and be still." He touched her cheek and gave her a smile that he had to dredge up past the horror digging into his gut. He prayed that his fear wasn't etched on his face. "This belt doesn't go with your outfit. We're going to have to get rid of it."

  Adrienne blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. "You always think I'm overdressed," she whispered.

  His heart swelled with pride at her brave little joke. He looked into her eyes and saw how close she was to panic.

  "You hold on, Adrienne. Let me take a look at this thing."

  While Jones speed-dialed Burke, Seth examined the wires attached to the black belt. He traced them carefully. They ran from her back, which was pressed against the wall, up and around the rope and her left wrist, then back down to a digital timer under her left arm. He gingerly ran his fingers around the back of the belt. He encountered a lump. Plastic explosive. The wires ran from there.

  He knew exactly how much force a lump that size could exert. Enough to take out the engine room and kill and injure a lot of people.

  Forcing himself to concentrate on the here and now, rather than past visions of bomb blasts, he looked at the changing numbers on the timer's display. He cursed.

  "Jones. There's no time. We only have seven minutes. I've got to defuse the bomb."

  "Burke conferenced in Police Chief Courville. There's a bomb expert on board. He's on his way down."

  "Seth?" Adrienne croaked. "They told me not to move, or I'd set it off."

  Hell. He'd hoped the bomb makers were amateurs. "I know, princess. There's probably a pressure sensor rigged to the timing device. It's going to be tricky." He took at her swollen, damp eyes, the streaks of dirt on her cheeks left by her tears, the red marks left by the gag. Lifting his hand, he wiped a tear away with his thumb and cradled her face in his palm. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on." He forced a smile. "Even in orange."

  Adrienne smiled sadly through her tears. "We don't have a chance, do we?"

  Seth put his other hand on her face and gave her a quick kiss. "Listen to me. As long as there is time on that clock, I'm not giving up. Promise me you won't."

  She shook her head. "I promise. I'm not—giving up."

  He heard the doubt and fear in her voice. He wanted to grab her close and reassure her, but he didn't have time. He had a bomb to defuse and only about six minutes to do it.

  Adrienne saw the uncertainty in Seth's strong, beloved face, and knew he expected to die here. His caress and his kiss had eased the excruciating pain in her shoulders for an instant, but now the strained muscles cramped.

  "Stay still, Adrienne. I've got to examine the wires. Your job is to not move a muscle."

  She froze as Seth bent his head to study the black box under her left arm. His dark hair curling slightly at his nape, his broad shoulders were directly in her line of sight. She drank in the beauty of his form and the strength that emanated from him like a scent.

  This is what his son would look like. Seth's strength and integrity would be an intrinsic part of their child's personality.

  Tears blurred her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She'd spent hours alone with her thoughts. With the horrible knowledge that the bomb belt was strapped over the precious life she and Seth had created.

  Seth straightened and slid the light up her body, following the wires up to her shoulders and farther, to where they wrapped around her wrist, and back down to the plastic explosive.

  His face was harsh and grim in the dim glow from the flashlight.

  Could she let him die without knowing about his child? Adrienne didn't know if it were crueler to tell him, knowing their baby would d
ie with them.

  Would giving him such a shocking emotional jolt jeopardize the lives that might be saved if he could defuse the bomb or contain the explosion? Or did he deserve to know, no matter what the outcome?

  She watched him, and thought about his father abandoning him, leaving him to care for his mother and his sisters when he was too young to shoulder such responsibility. She thought about her own father, who had betrayed her and lied to her.

  Seth deserved to know.

  "Seth, there's something I have to tell you."

  "Shh, Princess. No last-second regrets, okay?" He smiled down at her. "I don't have any."

  Then a shadow crossed his face. "Well, maybe one." He ducked his head and shone the flashlight toward where her back rested against the wall.

  Adrienne looked at the man who had shown her the difference between a bully and a real, honorable man. The man who had taught her that love was not fear and pain and the constant struggle to please. Love was pleasure and respect, a joining of equals.

  "Seth, we made a baby."

  He froze. "What did you say?" His voice was muffled, deadly quiet.

  His head was down near her shoulder. He didn't sit up, he didn't look at her. He did not move a muscle.

  Adrienne licked her dry, cracked lips. "I'm pregnant."

  Seth sat back on his heels and stared at her, his tri-colored eyes glinting like gems in the flashlight's glow.

  "You just thought you'd mention this before we're both—excuse me, all three blown to bits?"

  She winced at his cold tone and ducked her head to avoid his gaze.

  "We have just over four minutes." He laughed, a harsh sound. "So the gardener's son made a baby with the rich socialite. That's ironic."

  The agony in her arms and shoulders paled against the anguish in Adrienne's heart. His bitter words reflected all the pain that he had carried in his heart, all the resentment he'd felt toward her because in her he saw the same type of woman who had stolen his father.

  "You're not your father, Seth. You—"

  "When had you planned to tell me this?" he asked. "Or had you?"

  "I just found out. Seth, please—"

  The clattering of footsteps down the stairs startled Adrienne into silence.