Beyond Danger

by Kat Martin

  Once she reached her locker in the storage room, she dropped what she needed into the canvas bag she kept inside, along with the device Rome had lent her, and left the office, making her way out to where Beau waited in the BMW.

  “No trouble?” she asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

  “Haven’t seen a thing. You get what you needed?”

  Cassidy unzipped the bag on the floor between her feet. “You aren’t going to believe this.” She pulled the small black box out first. “This little devil gets us into a car without the alarm going off. It steals the code to the key pad and unlocks the door.”

  “How’s it work?”

  She handed him the box. “An RF transmitter finds the remote entry code and sends it to the locking system. You just touch the vehicle with the device to make it work. The transmitter uses very low power so it doesn’t trigger any nearby cars.”

  Beau whistled. “So you can get into a car and steal what’s inside without anyone knowing you were there. The dome light is going to be a problem.”

  She grinned. “It shuts down the system so the light won’t go on.”

  Beau handed back the box. “Does it let the thief start the damn engine, too?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Damn. You’re talking to a guy who owns a couple of six-figure sports cars so that’s not good news. What other illegal devices are in that bag?”

  She smiled as she pulled out a small circular disk. “Having this little toy isn’t actually illegal. It depends on how you use it.”

  “Like we’ll be using it tonight?”

  She shrugged.

  “What is it and how does it work?”

  “It’s a battery operated, motion sensitive, magnetic GPS. We stick it under the car bumper. Lasts about twelve hours of driving time before the battery goes dead.”

  “So we can follow the vehicle on the computer.”

  “That’s right. Kind of like Google Maps. We can get the addresses of wherever he goes.”

  “I’m likin’ that.”

  “Me, too.” Pulling a tiny black plastic square out of the bag, she held it up. “And last but not least, we have one of my favorites. A wireless, voice-activated audio transmitter. You program it by sending a text to the SIM card in the unit, then you call it from your cell phone and you can listen to what’s happening within thirty feet of the device. No rings, no beeps, no clicks to alarm the target. And there’s no distance limitation because you’re listening on your phone. You can call from anywhere.”

  Beau took the device from her fingers and studied it. “If we hide this inside his car, we can listen to his conversations, phone calls, or with passengers.”

  “That’s right. It sends a signal to my cell whenever audio is being transmitted.”

  “I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed. There’s a chance I’ll wind up back in jail, but it’s still an impressive bag of tricks.”

  Cassidy stuck the last device back into the bag and checked her watch. “We need to get over to the costume shop. The afternoon’s almost gone.”

  The Beamer fired up as Cassidy clicked her seat belt into place. “So how about Robin Hood? I could go as Maid Marian.”

  Beau flicked her a glare in answer. Cassidy chuckled as he made a final check of their surroundings and pulled out of the parking lot. Her humor slowly faded. They were going to the party to try to catch a killer.

  The trip to Floyd’s Antiques and Costumes no longer seemed like fun.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The charity ball at the exclusive Westhaven Country Club was in full swing by the time Beau drove up in front of the entrance. A young, white-jacketed parking valet jerked open the Beamer door while another young man swarmed around the hood of the car to the passenger side to help Cassidy out.

  The weather was rotten. A fine, damp mist hung in the air, and clouds obscured the moon. The dampness made the roads slick and seeped into Beau’s costume, but the moonless night would provide cover as he moved through darkness.

  He’d been careful to ensure they weren’t followed. Will Egan and his security team hadn’t spotted any unfamiliar vehicles in the area, so he wasn’t expecting trouble. But Cassidy hadn’t either, the night she’d driven out to the cemetery.

  Beau checked his surroundings as he stepped out of the BMW, which blended in well with the Cadillacs, Jaguars, and Mercedes being valet-parked in the lot half a block from the main entrance. He’d done a quick drive-through and spotted what appeared to be Vaughn’s white S550 coupe before he’d pulled up in front of the club. He’d check the registration when he got inside the car to be certain it was Vaughn’s.

  He rounded the car to where Cassidy waited, nervous energy sliding through him as he offered her his arm and they started up the front-porch steps toward the two-story redbrick building. Six huge white Corinthian columns spread across the front, and yellow light gleamed from every window.

  Heading for the arched white double doors at the entrance, they joined the reception line behind a couple dressed as Romeo and Juliet. Romantic couples was the theme, which Cassidy had neglected to mention until they got to the costume shop.

  Another couple wore Peter Pan and Wendy outfits. Beau bit back a grin at the poor SOB, who looked ridiculous and downright embarrassed in his ugly green tights—no question his wife had insisted he wear them.

  Beau was dressed as a pirate, in a full-sleeved white shirt and black breeches tucked into knee-high jack boots. The breeches fit like a second skin, which Cassidy seemed to be enjoying a little too much. The good news was a jerkin—similar to an unbuttoned long leather vest—covered the Glock in the clip holster on the belt around his waist. A black satin head scarf covered most of his hair, and both of them had their masks in place.

  Dressed as a tavern wench, in a short, black gathered skirt, an embroidered, off-the-shoulder blouse, and a red corset that cinched in her waist and shoved up her full breasts, Cassidy looked delicious. Exactly the distraction they might need.

  After a heated argument about who was going to plant the bugs in and on Malcolm Vaughn’s car—definitely him—Cassidy had grudgingly agreed. Mainly because he’d told her he wasn’t going to the damn ball any other way.

  She might be a private investigator, but she was still not completely healed. He’d noticed her quick intake of breath more than once when something jostled her ribs. He had a hunch she was still fighting an occasional bout of dizziness.

  Once inside, he handed the computer-generated tickets to the matron behind the table, dressed in a medieval costume, her heavy breasts spilling over the barely there blue velvet bodice.

  The woman smiled. “Welcome to the Children’s Home Valentine’s Ball.” She glanced down at his tickets. “Oh, I see you’re one of our VIPs. You’ll find a table right in front of the podium reserved for our most special patrons.”

  Drawing any sort of attention was the last thing he wanted, but with luck, they’d be finished and on their way by the time dinner was served.

  “Thank you.” Beau urged Cassidy toward the doors leading into the reception room in front of the main ballroom.

  “Well, we’re in,” she said as they walked into the big open chamber.

  Beau glanced down at her, his gaze landing on the soft mounds shoved up like a feast for a king—or in this case, pirate king. He felt a surge of heat and jerked his eyes away before the breeches he had jammed himself into betrayed his lusty thoughts.

  “Let’s order a drink and mingle,” he said. The reception room was decorated for Valentine’s Day, with bouquets of pink roses on linen-draped, stand-up tables, pink and red crepe paper swirled among red hearts and cupids. Valentine’s Day was still a way off, but the guests didn’t seem to care.

  They walked up to one of the bars and ordered drinks, champagne for Cassidy, Cutty and water for him. Another tavern wench and pirate couple stood a few feet away, the man with a patch over one eye and a head full of dreadlocks that would give Jack Sparrow a run f
or his money.

  Among the reasons they had chosen their outfits was the hope other couples would be dressed the same way, providing even more anonymity. A third pirate and wench duo stood on the far side of the room.

  “So far we’re right on track,” he said.

  Cassidy glanced down at her wristwatch. “We’ve got twenty minutes before they call us in to dinner.”

  “Let’s keep moving. Five more minutes and I’m heading for the men’s room.” More precisely, to a door down the hall that led outside the building.

  As head of marketing for Texas American, he had been to Westhaven a number of times. Plenty of business done on the golf course. He didn’t play often enough to be very good, but he had a natural knack for sports. He could play to a twelve handicap and at least not embarrass himself.

  They moved toward one of the high tables and set down their drinks, smiling and flirting with each other as if they wanted to be left alone, which they did. Even with the head scarf and mask, there was a chance he’d be recognized.

  The group was large and boisterous. Two hundred costumed couples in Roman togas, medieval garb, uniforms, hoop skirts, and pretty much any costume you could think of. It was impossible to tell if one of the costumed men was Malcolm Vaughn.

  As the minutes ticked past, his nerves kicked up another notch. On the surface Cassidy seemed relaxed, but Beau figured she was nearly as edgy as he was.

  Another minute passed. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. “I’m heading out.”

  She looked up at him, whispered, “I’ll phone if there’s trouble.”

  His cell, in a case on his belt, was set to vibrate. He nodded, turned, and walked quietly away.

  When he’d driven in, he’d left the surveillance devices in a paper bag under a row of hedges at the edge of the parking lot. He walked down the hall toward the restrooms and spotted the back door, which led to a cement walkway out to the golf course. Once outside, he ducked off the path toward the hedgerow at the edge of the lot, bent and retrieved the small paper bag.

  Staying in the shadows as much as possible, he kept walking. The Mercedes was parked up ahead, two more rows and off to the right. The clouds were growing thicker and darker, the wind coming up, blowing trash and leaves across the lot. As he neared the vehicle, he took a pair of latex gloves out of the bag and pulled them on.

  The Mercedes loomed ahead. Beau prayed the car actually belonged to Malcolm Vaughn.

  * * *

  Cassidy took a sip of champagne and continued her conversation with an older woman in a silver wig and an eighteenth-century gold brocade gown spread over wide panniers. Her husband wore a curly wig and gold satin knee breeches.

  “Costume parties are so much fun,” Cassidy said, needing to mingle so she wouldn’t stand out.

  “Oh, yes. And this one’s for such a good cause. Roger was dead set against wearing a wig, but I think it makes him look handsome.”

  Roger’s lips curled into a sneer. He merely grunted.

  “Now, dear, don’t be a spoilsport.” The woman, Opal, looked to Cassidy for help.

  She managed to glance at the dainty gold wristwatch that had belonged to her mother. Time was ticking away. Beau had ten minutes to install the devices, get back to the front door, and have his car brought up. She would meet him there and they could leave before the guests were seated for dinner.

  She forced herself to concentrate. “I think the wig makes you look very distinguished, Roger. After all, men like Washington and Jefferson wore them, all the great men who formed our country. What could be more distinguished than that?”

  Roger looked mollified. He stood a little straighter. “Maybe you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it quite that way.”

  “Oh, look, dear! The Denbys are here. Let’s go say hello.” Opal straightened her gown and the panniers holding it out on the sides, and took his arm. “It was nice talking to you, Maryann,” she said as they wandered away.

  Since standing there by herself wasn’t a good idea, Cassidy glanced around in search of someone else to talk to until it was time to meet Beau. She took a step, bumped into a man dressed in a long white toga next to a woman similarly garbed. Matching laurel wreaths crowned their heads. Like a number of partygoers, they had removed their masks.

  Cassidy’s stomach dropped out when she recognized Malcolm Vaughn.

  * * *

  Beau pressed the black box against the door to the Mercedes, heard the click of the locks, and pulled open the door. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he withdrew a small penlight, opened the glove box, found the registration and held it under the light.

  A sigh of relief whispered out. The car belonged to Vaughn.

  Beau put the registration back where it belonged and closed the glove box, panned the light around under the dash and found a spot to place the audio listening device. He made sure it was firmly attached, glad he was wearing the latex gloves.

  After one last check, to be sure the device would remain in place, he eased out of the car, quietly closed the door, and shoved the black box into his waistband, out of sight beneath the leather jerkin.

  The tendons in his neck felt tight, his nerves on edge. He checked, didn’t see anyone coming. Time to attach the GPS. Moving toward the rear of the Mercedes, he set the paper bag on the ground, took out the GPS transmitter, bent and stuck the device under the rear bumper, then checked to make sure it was securely in place. He stripped off the gloves and stuck them in the bag, took a last look at his handiwork and started to rise.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Adrenaline spiked through him as he spotted a big pair of shoes. Nudging the paper bag under the car, he rose to his feet. The parking lot security guard was tall and brawny. Suspicion darkened his features.

  Beau flashed him a smile. “My girlfriend and I got into a fight. I needed some air, so I came out here. I wanted to cool off—you know what I mean?” He tipped his head toward the redbrick building with the white columns out front. “Unfortunately I can’t just leave her here so I’ve got to get back.” He started past the guard, but the man didn’t budge.

  “Let me see some ID.”

  His breathing went shallow. He could take the man down if he had to. With the mask still over his face, no way could the guard identify him. But it wouldn’t be easy and it could pose all kinds of problems he and Cassidy did not need.

  “I don’t have my driver’s license on me,” he said. He glanced down. “Not much room in these breeches. My girlfriend has my wallet in her purse.” He managed to come up with a good-buddy grin. “That’s why I have to get back. She’s got my money too. Hopefully she’s over her tiff by now.”

  The guard looked him over head to foot. The guy was three inches taller than Beau and probably seventy pounds heavier. Taking him down would be a definite challenge, but he wasn’t about to let the man call the police.

  “What’d you do to piss her off?” the guard asked.

  Beau shrugged. “She caught me looking at a little blonde with big tits. My girlfriend’s the jealous type, you know? She’s kind of insecure, doesn’t think her boobs are big enough.” That was a laugh. Cassidy had the perkiest, prettiest breasts he’d ever seen.

  The guard didn’t relax. He tipped his head toward the Mercedes. “That your car?”

  Beau’s body shifted into alert mode. “Nah. Too rich for my blood. I was just checking it out. Maybe one of these days I can afford something like that.”

  The guard didn’t buy it—this was a very exclusive affair.

  “My girlfriend’s got all the money,” Beau added. “Makes it easier to overlook her bad temper. Plus she’s good in bed.”

  The guard laughed out loud. “Go on back,” he said, still chuckling. “Have a nice evening.”

  “Thanks.” Beau waved over his shoulder as he walked away.

  * * *

  “Ms. Jones. It’s nice to see you again.” Malcolm Vaughn stood regally in front of the table, the perfect image o
f the emperor he was pretending to be.

  “Mr. Vaughn. I’m . . . umm . . . a little surprised you recognized me.” What about Beau? Had Vaughn recognized him, too? Beneath her skirt, the little .380 felt comforting in the holster strapped to her thigh.

  “Mal will do,” he said. “This is Ashley Stanfield. Her father is one of my clients. Ashley kindly agreed to accompany me tonight.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ashley.”

  “You as well.”

  Vaughn glanced over Cassidy’s head, searching the room. “This is a couples event. I can’t imagine you’re here by yourself. Should I assume you’re here with Beau?”

  She had to brazen it out, pray Beau would wait and not come looking for her before she could manage to make her escape. “That’s right. He’s quite a philanthropist. Beau especially loves giving to charities that help children.” Which according to the information she had dug up on him, was actually true.

  “So where is he? It’s rude to leave a lovely young woman alone for so long.”

  “He was . . . umm . . . feeling a little unwell. He went to the men’s room. I’m sure he’ll be back in a few more minutes.”

  “Would you like another glass of champagne? That one looks a little flat.” His expression said he knew she hadn’t been drinking it. She didn’t want him speculating on why they had come.

  She took a sip. “No, it’s fine.” She turned to Mal’s date, who was about her same age, a good deal younger than Vaughn. “I like your costumes,” she said. “A Roman emperor and his lady. I bet Mal selected the outfits.”

  She figured he saw himself that way, as a ruler of men, emperor of his world. Ashley flashed him a worshipful glance, clearly hoping to become more than just friends.

  Cassidy had to admit, with his classically handsome features and light brown hair, Mal Vaughn was an attractive man. Attractive, but a trifle too metrosexual for Cassidy’s taste, which ran more to alpha males like Beau.