“Sit,” one of the guards said, pushing him roughly backward into a chair. It was padded, the fabric thickly textured, with a straight back. Erik’s wrists were tied to the arms of the chair.
“Thank you, that’ll be all for now.”
The voice was different from the guards’, and Erik said nothing, listening intently as the guards’ footsteps left the room. A door shut quietly behind them.
“Special Agent Erik Langston, I believe?”
Erik swallowed. A part of him couldn’t believe this had worked. He was in the same room as Solomon, the man behind not only Peter’s death, but O’Connell’s blackmail too. He pulled slightly at his bonds. They held fast. He tried to temper his anger. A clear head was vital if he and O’Connell were going to survive.
“You must be the infamous Solomon,” Erik said. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m kind of tied up right now.”
“A necessary precaution, as I’m sure you’ll agree,” he said. “You’ve been quite persistent. I must say, it’s admirable. Any other agent would have given up by now. But not you. You’ve determinedly pursued Clarissa for months. Tell me, Mr. Langston. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep at night once you kill her?”
Erik stiffened. “I was never going to kill her. That might be your way, but not mine.”
“My apologies. Arrest her then, correct? To avenge your partner.”
“Why don’t we talk about how you’ve used her, lied to her, pretending that you’d actually get her brother out of prison if she did this for you? When you and I both know there’s not a damn thing you can do about Danny O’Connell rotting in a jail cell.”
Solomon laughed, but it was without humor. “Clarissa is a bit naive,” he said. “But, as I’m sure you know, extremely loyal to her brother, which in turn, has been extremely useful to me.”
Erik’s fists clenched and he struggled to not show his anger. Best to let Solomon think he didn’t care about O’Connell. If he knew Erik cared, he’d use O’Connell against him just like he’d used Danny against her.
“Tell me more about you, Mr. Langston. Coming here tonight was a very brave, or very stupid, move. Your plan may very well backfire.”
“What do you know of my plan?” Erik’s palms began to sweat.
“I know how you think, Mr. Langston. I know all about you. You think you’re the only one to make a study of your enemies? You’ve had quite the driven career. Driven by what, exactly? Oh yes, a father who abandoned you and your mother when you were just fifteen. A thief, wasn’t he?”
“My father was a sonofabitch who left us to pay his debts and suffer for what he’d done,” Erik seethed.
“And you were so angry with him that you disowned him, changed your name, told your friends he was dead.”
“You bet I did,” Erik growled. “And you’re just like him. Using people without a care for how it ruins their lives. You’ve used Clarissa for nothing but your own gain, and when you’re through with her, you’ll kill her and toss her aside. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You might be right,” Solomon mused. “But not for the reasons you think.”
The blindfold was pulled off and Erik blinked in the sudden light. When his eyes focused on the man in front of him, the blood drained from his face.
“Hello, son.”
EPISODE NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“It’s been a long time,” the man who was Erik’s father, who now went by Solomon, said. He sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he watched Erik.
Erik struggled to regain his bearings, his mind reeling in shock. This couldn’t be happening. The notorious mobster known only as Solomon was, in reality, his…dad?
“You seem to be at a loss for words,” Solomon said.
“Do you blame me?” Erik replied. “I’d assumed, hoped really, that you were dead by now.”
“After all these years, you’re still so angry?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I be? You left us, Mom and me, to take the fall for you.” Erik struggled not to yell, to stay in control. “We lost everything. Because of you.”
“It wasn’t just my fault, Erik. I wanted to take you both with me, you and your mother, but she refused.”
“Living a life on the run didn’t appeal to her? How strange,” Erik mocked.
“I had no choice—”
“You had every choice!”
Solomon stopped talking, his face unreadable.
Erik took a breath before continuing, his voice low and clotted with rage and betrayal. “You chose to break the law. You chose to run. You chose to continue a life of crime and murder. Everything Mom and I dealt with — that was the fallout from your choices.”
“Everything, including your chosen career path,” Solomon said.
Erik’s lipped pressed into a thin line.
“I believe, even in absentia, I’ve influenced what you’ve chosen to do with your life, isn’t that right, Erik?”
“If by ‘influence’ you mean every day I pray I’ll get what I need to take you down, then yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“I see your foolishness is outweighed only by your idealism,” Solomon said. “And it was extremely foolish of you to come here tonight. The men who work for me are no fonder of federal agents than I am.”
“I can see that,” Erik said, pointedly jerking at his tied wrists. “For a reunion, this one really sucks, Pops.”
“Do you blame me? I wasn’t one hundred percent sure you wouldn’t try to kill me on sight.”
“Honestly, I can’t say whether I wouldn’t,” Erik retorted.
“What’s your connection to this woman, Clarissa?” Solomon asked. “You seem to have put yourself at an awful risk for her.”
“That’s none of your business,” Erik gritted out.
“What affects you is my business.”
“Since when?”
“Always,” Solomon said. “You don’t think I’ve been watching you? Keeping tabs on you? You think I didn’t see how well you’ve done?”
Erik couldn’t believe it. Was that…pride in Solomon’s voice?
“I don’t want you keeping tabs on me,” Erik said in disgust. “You’re no more a father to me than any other criminal I arrest.”
“And yet, at the moment, I hold your life in my hands.” Solomon seemed completely unperturbed by Erik’s animosity.
“It’s not my life you should be worried about,” Erik said.
“Then tell me the truth about Ms. O’Connell,” Solomon bit out.
“Ms. O’Connell is a person,” Erik said. “With a past and present, and hopefully, a future. She’s not a bad person, but you’ve turned her into one. And now she’s on the run for her life. Because of you.”
“I didn’t make her into what she is. You can thank her brother for that. I wouldn’t even know about her if it wasn’t for him.”
Erik stared at Solomon in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Danny O’Connell was a hotheaded thief with an ego unmatched by his prowess,” Solomon said dryly. “Despite my misgivings, I hired him for a job, thought I’d give him a chance.” He paused. “You know how that turned out.”
Erik didn’t reply; images of his partner bleeding to death in his arms ran through his mind.
“Danny was desperate to get out of prison,” Solomon continued. “But there was nothing that could be done. As you well know, there’s only one fate that awaits you when you kill an FBI agent.”
“Life in prison was too good for him,” Erik said.
“Incidentally, I agree. But Danny was determined to get out. He sent a message to me. Had to speak to me. Said he wanted to make a deal. When I agreed, he told me about his sister, Clarissa. How…talented she was. How they were very close. How she’d do anything to get him out of prison.”
Erik stared, aghast, at Solomon. “Are you telling me Danny offered up his own sister to you?”
“Danny not only offered up his sister, he to
ld me exactly how to contact her, details as to what she could do, and how to appeal to her sense of loyalty for him.” Solomon shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do with the information except find her?”
Erik clenched his jaw. “Well, she showed you, didn’t she?” he said, twisting his lips into a smirk. “You fucked with the wrong woman, Dad. A hundred million dollars is a lot of money.”
Solomon frowned. “Yes, I admit I underestimated her. A costly mistake. But you say you can get her to give me back the money. That she trusts you.”
Erik laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Now why would I do that, knowing who you are? Hell, I’m going to tell her to keep it and you can go fuck yourself.”
“Because if she does, I’ll let this little incident go and call it good.” Solomon leaned forward. “But if she doesn’t, I will never stop hunting her. And I will find her. And when I do, I’m going to kill her.”
“If Clarissa doesn’t want to be found, then you’re not going to find her.” Of that, Erik was certain.
“Ah yes, but you forget about her brother. He isn’t one to live the quiet life, staying off the radar and out of sight. No, his ego couldn’t handle that. He’ll start taking jobs, small ones at first, but eventually larger ones, until his pride leads me right to them.”
“Danny’s going right back to prison tonight,” Erik said, praying he was right. “Clarke double-crossed you. He wants the money for himself.”
“Clarke is a greedy man, but not very smart,” Solomon replied, relaxing back in his chair again. “I allowed him to go about thinking he’s playing me, but in reality, I’m the one playing him.”
Erik just stared, his mind jumping ahead to a conclusion that made the blood ice in his veins. “It’s Danny, isn’t it?” he asked. “The only way you could get Danny out was by using Clarke, so you dangled the hundred million in front of Clarke, daring him to double-cross you, and he did exactly what you expected him to.”
Solomon smiled. “I always said you got your brains from me, kid.”
“So what’s supposed to happen now?” Erik asked. “Danny will kill Clarke and then tell Clarissa to give the money back?”
Solomon laughed. “I doubt Danny will be that smart. He’ll kill Clarke all right, but then he’ll want to keep the money. Greed is in his blood, and his overconfidence will let him think they can get away with it.” He motioned to Erik. “This is where you come in. I’ll let you go, so you can convince Clarissa to give me back the money. I’ve told you what the consequences are if she doesn’t.” His face hardened. “You’ve got one shot at this. If she trusts you, like you say, then it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then she’ll no doubt do what her brother says.” He studied Erik. “So which will it be? Do you hate me enough to sacrifice Clarissa just so I don’t get my money returned? Or do you care enough about her to try and save her?”
“I don’t—”
“Oh please.” Solomon interrupted him with a snort of disgust. “It’s written all over you, plain as day. What did you do? Sleep with her?”
Erik kept his mouth stubbornly closed, his eyes staring daggers at his father.
“Clarissa O’Connell is dangerous,” Solomon said. “Getting involved with her will only lead nowhere good. You can do better, son.”
“Don’t call me son,” Erik bit out.
“Deny it all you will, it’s what you are.” Solomon walked to a nearby desk and pushed a button on the phone that sat on its surface. “It’s been good to see you, Erik. Talk to you.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
Two men came in the room, one carrying a black hood. Erik could do nothing as they placed it over his head.
“I’m sure we’ll meet again, Erik,” was the last thing he heard before something was pressed against the back of his neck. A jolt of pain went through him, then his world went dark.
* * *
The sky was just beginning to lighten when Kaminski pulled off the road about a quarter mile from the plantation and turned off the car.
“This is it,” he said unnecessarily. “We’ll split up and hike in from here so he thinks you’re alone.” He checked that his gun was loaded.
“What’s our plan?” Clarissa asked. “He’s going to assume I didn’t come alone.”
“Convince him you did. I’ll circle ’round, try to sneak in from the back.”
“And if you get caught?”
“You have a gun, don’t you? And my knife? Or you can just pull some of that ninja shit on him,” Kaminski scoffed.
“I’d prefer not to break a nail,” Clarissa sneered. God, no wonder Langston had kicked Kaminski to the curb. What a smart-ass.
Speaking of Langston…“Do you think they’ll hurt him?” Clarissa asked. She didn’t have to explain who she was asking about.
“Not if you give them their money back,” Kaminski said. “You ready?”
Clarissa nodded. Kaminski started walking and she traveled perpendicular to him. Within moments, she was alone.
She thought about what Kaminski had said in the car, how surprised he’d been to think Langston might be helping her. So surprised, he didn’t even believe it.
Was she acting the fool? Believing that Langston loved her just because she wanted it to be true?
What if Kaminski was able to capture Clarke and she returned the money to Solomon? Would Solomon release Langston unharmed? Would he then arrest her? There’d be no escaping prison this time, not with all Langston had seen her do with his own eyes. His testimony alone would send her away for years.
And then there was Danny.
Clarissa was nervous to see him again and dreading it, which only made her feel guilty. She should be glad he was out, that they would be reunited, but all she could think about was Langston’s dead partner and fatherless child.
The house came into view much too soon, a grand white structure with soaring columns that reached to the roof of the two-story mansion. The air was heavy with fog this morning, making the house appear otherworldly, shrouded as it was with mist. The oak trees for which the plantation was named graced the drive leading to the front, two rows of huge trees creating an arbor of intertwined branches and a canopy of green. The heavy boughs rested on the ground with majestic ease, the gnarled roots grasping the earth with the tenacity of centuries.
It was beautiful and momentarily took Clarissa’s breath away. Time seemed to have turned backward, flinging her into decades past.
Shaking herself from her reverie, Clarissa walked between the rows of oaks toward the still and silent house. Clarke would be waiting for her there with the building at his back. Sure enough, when she drew close, she could see a man sitting in one of the old-fashioned wooden rocking chairs gracing the porch. The chair gently rocked back and forth, as though the occupant were just enjoying the breaking dawn.
Clarissa glanced around, but saw no sign of Danny. Her eyes settled on Clarke.
He was slighter than she’d expected, his build making her guess he didn’t reach six feet. Brown hair and eyes on an average face that she guessed was late forties to early fifties. Clarke was dressed incongruously in business casual with khakis and a white button-down shirt. He could have been a southern gentleman at his leisure, if not for the gun in his hand.
“Where’s Danny?” Clarissa asked without preamble.
Clarke smiled. “Around. Wouldn’t want you to get any ideas about double-crossing me. I’m not an idiot like Solomon. I know perfectly well what you’re capable of, regardless of how much you’ve snowed Agent Langston with your supposed amnesia.
“Speaking of Agent Langston,” he continued. “Where is he? I’d be quite surprised if he wasn’t here.”
Clarissa raised an eyebrow. “Why would I keep a Fed around?”
“Agent Langston is more than a Fed,” Clarke warned. “But perhaps you know that already.”
“What are you talking about?”
Clarke’s smile
was enigmatic. “Or maybe you don’t. Do you have the transfer ready?”
Clarissa pulled out Langston’s cell phone, wondering what Clarke had meant about Langston. “Just need the account you want it transferred to.”
Clarke gave a sharp whistle, and Clarissa turned to see Danny emerge from the trees, a man holding a gun on him as they walked toward the house.
It was a shock, seeing him again after all this time. He was bigger, like he’d bulked up while in prison. His even gaze stayed locked on hers as they approached, finally stopping at the foot of the stairs leading up to the porch.
“There you are,” Clarke said. “And now for my account number, I believe.” He rattled off a list of numbers.
“And you think I’m just going to transfer the money and think you’re going to let us go?” Clarissa asked, entering the numbers into the phone.
“I don’t see that you have a choice.” Clarke pointed the gun at her.
Where the hell was Kaminski? Clarissa caught Danny’s eye. If they just had a distraction, just for a moment…
The sound of breaking glass startled Clarissa, but she checked her impulse to turn toward the sound. Instead, she pulled her gun. In her peripheral vision, she saw Danny had also taken advantage and was wrestling with his captor.
Clarke’s attention returned to her in time for him to see the gun in her hand.
A gunshot rang out. Clarke jerked in his chair, red blooming on his pristine white shirt, then slumped to the ground.
Clarissa turned to see Danny had won his struggle. The gun he held was still smoking and the man who’d held him was lying unmoving on the ground.
“Is someone with ya?” Danny asked, not lowering the gun as he looked around.
Before Clarissa could answer, Kaminski stepped around the corner. His gun was pointed at Danny.
“Don’t shoot!” Clarissa said to Danny. That’s the last thing she needed, Kaminski and Danny killing each other. “He’s with us.”
Hurrying to Clarke, she turned him over onto his back. He was still breathing, but barely. Blood was everywhere. He wasn’t going to make it. Clarissa felt a pang of remorse, not that she necessarily regretted Clarke’s death, it just seemed like where she went, dead bodies followed. She sat back on her haunches with a sigh.
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