“Possibly. My showing up with Carmichael would confirm that his influential family has butted in. And with them already involved, it’d be damn near impossible to transfer the investigation away from DC. Of course, we’re doing everything in our power to cooperate. Washington has had all available San Diego personnel searching for the kidnapper throughout the county for hours already. I seriously doubt if Ms. Bradley could change anything even if she had a good reason.”
Luke shrugged again. “But who actually knows why she doesn’t want to go home? Her reason could have nothing to do with the investigation and be entirely personal.” He made sure Carmichael wasn’t on his way back before speaking again. “One thing’s really bothering me about Rich Boy.”
“Only one?”
“Unfortunately not.” He chuckled. “What I don’t understand is how he got here so fast. Seems odd he could catch a cross-country flight in the middle of the night and fly into San Diego so early this morning.” He frowned. “Private jet, maybe?”
“Good question. And I know the answer. The guy was in Los Angeles, not Washington.”
He stared at the agent. “LA?”
“Yes. I understand he drove down this morning.”
After another glance at the barn, Luke paced across the kitchen and back, his mind imagining an awful scenario. “Ms. Bradley has been missing a month, and her ex-fiancé just happens to be only a hundred and fifty miles away from where she’s found—which is over two thousand miles from where she was kidnapped and where they both live. What are the odds? How did Rich Boy manage to be in LA last night—of all nights?”
“Good questions, but I don’t have the answers this time.”
“Maybe we should ask him.”
* * *
Elle had been sitting in Luke’s sister’s apartment and staring at the front door for eighty-four minutes. She knew because she’d been checking the time on the burner cell phone every minute or so.
Her eyes could barely stay open. If she wasn’t so afraid, she would’ve given in to sleep an hour ago. But she was scared. And the idea that she would always feel this way if her kidnapper were never caught, filled her with panic.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen. Which meant she had to find the son of a bitch. Depending on law enforcement, even the highly trained FBI, to track him down was not an option.
She sighed. Obviously, Secretary of the Interior Carmichael had wielded his political power to get the FBI involved in the first place. A little odd since the Washington Metropolitan Police Department was already supposed to be investigating the complaints she’d filed about stalkers and e-mail threats. But she had wondered if her concerns would be taken seriously since she’d made some enemies in the department with more than one of her damning investigative reports. In fact, the MPD’s efforts hadn’t yielded anything useful, and they obviously hadn’t prevented her kidnapping. Had the police shared her original complaints and their meager findings with the FBI since her abduction?
Once again, her eyes began to close and her chin to droop, but a noise at the front door snapped her back to fully awake. She glanced at the cell on the end table for just a second to confirm she hadn’t somehow missed a call or text from Luke saying he was coming to get her.
Her gaze darted to the door. She sat up, ramrod straight, and grabbed the gun.
The knob turned, and the door swung open. A young woman stepped into the apartment, carefully closing and locking the door behind her.
She must be Luke’s sister. Elle slumped against the cushions with relief.
Turning around, the woman spotted Elle holding the gun. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened as if to scream, but before any sound emerged, she collapsed to the floor.
“Oh God,” Elle said, setting the gun on the end table. She limped across the living room and knelt beside the still body. Her mind went blank, and she couldn’t remember his sister’s name.
She scrambled to her feet and shuffled as fast as she could to the kitchen, returning with a cold, wet cloth. Kneeling again, Elle dabbed the cloth on the woman’s forehead and cheeks while frantically searching her memory for the forgotten name.
“Come on, come on. My name is Elle Bradley. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a fri—I know Luke. He brought me here. Everything’s okay. Please wake up,” she murmured in a constant stream of words she doubted were even being heard.
Just as the woman stirred, the cell on the end table rang. When Elle turned to look at it, Luke’s sister shoved her down flat on the carpet and rushed to the table. Her hands shaking violently, she grabbed the gun and aimed it at Elle.
Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Elle froze.
The phone stopped ringing.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. The woman’s finger was resting on the trigger. Could the shaking cause her to pull it accidentally? Elle gulped.
“Wh-who are you?” the woman demanded.
As she sat up slowly, Elle forced herself to appear calm, which was no easy feat with a gun pointed at her. “I-I’m Elle Bradley. Luke Johnson brought me here. I bet you’re his sister, but I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
The woman glared at her suspiciously. “L-Luke would’ve let me know you were here.”
“He was…uh…was in a big hurry and thought you’d be at the hair salon until after he came back for me.”
She scowled with disbelief. “On a Monday, he’s usually sleeping at this time of day.”
“I’m sure he is.” Elle pointed to the borrowed T-shirt and jeans she wore. “Luke said these were your clothes. He loaned them to me.”
She cocked her head, still not looking convinced. “Maybe. I did leave some things at his place when I was staying there after…after…” Her voice trailed off.
The cell rang again, and both women jumped.
“That’s your phone, the backup one. Answer it. It’s Luke. I swear,” Elle said, flinching at the thought of that trigger finger moving.
Luke’s sister took a step back and chanced a quick glance at the phone. The screen must’ve confirmed Elle’s statement because she grabbed it.
“Luke? Help! There’s a strange woman in my apartment.” Then the panic drained from her expression, but she continued to stare at Elle with uncertainty.
Elle flopped back onto the carpet. She drew long, deep breaths and closed her eyes. The woman’s voice faded into the background.
A few minutes later, her eyes popped open when the woman sat down beside her. She no longer held the gun, but instead, handed the phone to Elle.
“Luke wants to talk to you.” She gulped. “Sorry about…you know. My name’s Karla, by the way.”
Elle nodded with a faint smile and took the phone.
“You all right?” Luke asked, his voice full of concern.
“Yeah. Thank God you called again.”
“I got worried when you didn’t answer the first time.” He cleared his throat. “Carmichael and Holmes just left or I would’ve called sooner. I can’t believe Karla came home, but she had another… Um, she wasn’t feeling well. Damn, I’m so sorry…for both of you.”
“C-Can you come get me? I’m a bit shaken up.”
“I’m sure you are, but I don’t think it’s safe yet. Your ex is convinced I have you hidden here. I expect him to come back and watch my place.”
Disappointment nearly brought her to tears. “Then shouldn’t I get there before he does?” she managed to ask despite her tightening throat.
“No. I have something else in mind.”
She swallowed hard. “What’s the plan then? Should I go to a hotel?”
He paused. “If you want. But I think I should lie low like I’m sleeping—which I might actually do, come to think of it—and then have Karla smuggle you over here after you both have rested, too. If Carmichael is watching, we’ll create a diversion so you can get into my house. Then Karla should hang around a while, be really visible. If your ex sees me with…female company, we might convince him that h
e’s wrong about you being here.”
“Got it. I could definitely use a nap, but how long before we can come?”
Chapter 6
Luke peered down the road with his binoculars. A black Mercedes was still parked on the shoulder. Although he couldn’t see the driver because of the visor, identifying the vehicle as Richard Carmichael’s wasn’t difficult. Luxury cars were scarce in the countryside surrounding Ramona, and none sported DC license plates.
The reminder of Carmichael’s explanation of how he had arrived in San Diego so quickly brought a frown to Luke’s face. The man claimed he’d driven from DC to California over the past two weeks, handing out flyers about Elle’s kidnapping along the way and hoping to find her. The effort seemed so out of character for the egotistical asshole and beyond impractical from a law enforcement standpoint that Luke and Special Agent Holmes had taken the story with a grain of salt. More like an entire shaker of salt.
Luke also disliked Carmichael’s explanation because it had prompted his suspicions of Elle to resurface. Early on, he’d wondered if the whole kidnapping had been staged by the reporter as a publicity stunt. The idea had bubbled up again as Carmichael offered his lame excuse for being in LA on the night Elle escaped. But when Luke had remembered the sheer terror in her eyes the night he’d found her, his suspicions evaporated. Temporarily, at least.
After calling and fixing the snafu at Karla’s apartment, Luke had waited until Carmichael showed up down the road—just as he’d known the bastard would. A few minutes later, he had carried an empty envelope out to his roadside mailbox, making sure he was visible to his stalker. Afterward, he had called Elle again to let the women know things were going according to plan, and then he’d gone to bed.
Finally, despite much tossing and turning and thinking of Elle naked, he’d fallen asleep. Now three hours later, he felt better, if not thoroughly rested. He hoped Elle had been able to sleep, too, since she needed it more than he did.
Staring at the jerk in the Mercedes, Luke grinned. The guy should be cramped, thirsty, and needing to piss. With any luck, the charade he’d planned would convince Carmichael to leave. Time to start the show.
“Hey, Karla. You and Elle should come over now,” he said when his sister answered her regular cell phone.
“Okay, good. We just finished packing some additional clothes for her to borrow.”
“Wait. I don’t want you bringing a suitcase. Carmichael might guess it has clothes for someone.”
“Elle and I are way ahead of you. She suggested we pack them in boxes labeled ‘charity canned goods’ in great big capital letters. You know, with the holidays coming, there are lots of food drives.”
“Brilliant. Remember to park at the side of the house and at an angle so your Civic will shield Elle from view.”
“Right. This is so cool. I feel like Mission Impossible or something. See you soon.”
He chuckled as he laid the phone down and picked up the binoculars. “Stay right where you are, asshole. We’re gonna beat you like a drum.”
Twenty minutes later, a cloud of dust announced Karla’s arrival as she pulled into Luke’s dirt driveway. He watched from a window while she parked the Civic as instructed. When she disappeared around the corner toward the front of the house, Elle eased the passenger door open, slid out, and crouched beside the car. After tapping the window to get her attention, Luke held up three fingers, hoping she understood that was how many minutes he wanted her to wait before scrambling to the back door. Then he hurried to answer the doorbell.
He stepped out onto the front stoop to greet his sister with a brotherly hug. “Don’t look at the Mercedes.”
“Okay.”
“You feeling better?”
She nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“Do you need to talk to the shrink?”
“No, it wasn’t a bad one.”
“Good. Let’s see those boxes of food. Nice and slow,” he said with a sly grin. They strolled to the corner of the house and stopped. Luke pointed at the dying plants along the driveway. “Act like you’re appalled at my lack of a green thumb.”
Karla wagged her index finger at him, gestured at the plants, and then shook her head. “How am I doing?”
“Oscar nomination, for sure.”
She gave him a playful punch in the gut. He draped his arm across her shoulders and turned them both toward the Civic. The passenger door was closed, and there was no sign of Elle.
They each grabbed a box from the trunk and walked back around toward the front door. Halfway there, Karla stumbled, and her box tilted precariously, the untaped flaps falling open. To Luke’s amazement, several cans of food tumbled out. She set the box down and rubbed her ankle.
“You okay?” he asked.
She winked. “Of course.” Faking a limp, she retrieved a can and examined it for dents before placing it back in the box.
Forcing himself not to look down the road toward the Mercedes, he gathered up the remaining cans and handed them to her one at a time. Their charade lasted at least five minutes.
Once inside, he immediately grabbed the binoculars and stepped to a window. “It worked. If Carmichael had seen Elle, he’d be tearin’ down the road like a bat outta hell, and he’s not.”
“Luke?” Elle called from the kitchen. “Is it safe to come out?”
“Stay put. We’ll talk in the kitchen. Less crap in there.”
He closed the blinds and then led the way down the hall. When they arrived in the kitchen, Elle peeked out of the walk-in pantry before emerging.
“Anyone want to celebrate with a beer?” he asked, opening the fridge.
When Karla’s cell rang, she glanced at the screen. “I should take this.” She scooted out of the kitchen with the phone to her ear.
“Sure, I’ll have one,” Elle said.
He pulled out three Coors and set one can on the table in front of her. She stared at it for a moment.
“Sorry. You want a glass, right?” he said, turning to the cupboards.
“No, a can’s fine. However, I’m a Bud Light girl, but I’ll drink a Coors occasionally.”
When he glanced over his shoulder to see if she was being sarcastic, she popped the top and took a long drag, licking her gorgeous, full lips afterward. Their gazes connected, and he gulped.
“I gotta go,” Karla announced, rushing back into the kitchen.
Luke shook the lust from his mind and protested. “But you need to stay. It’s part of my pl—”
She held up her hand to silence him. “It’s an emergency.”
“Emergency?”
“Yes. That was my customer Ann Clark calling. Her seventeen-year-old daughter has a toy drone tangled in her hair. Thanks to her little brother, who tried to land it on her head. It’s bad. Hair twisted around multiple blades all the way to her scalp. They’ll need to be cut out, which will mean creating a whole new hairstyle to hide the missing chunks.”
“That’s an emergency?” he asked, incredulous.
“It is if you’re a teenaged girl, who won’t go to school tomorrow unless it’s fixed. I’ll be home from the shop later, so you can drop Elle at my apartment when you go to work.”
He stared at his shoes and shuffled his feet. “I’m not working tonight.”
“But it’s Monday and—”
“I know. I…uh…I’m taking a few days off.”
Karla’s gaze darted to Elle and back to him. “You’re taking time off? Has hell frozen over?”
“No, smart-ass. Elle hired me and Sean…for protection.” He heard Elle shift in her chair, but he didn’t chance a look.
“Protection? I didn’t realize her ex was so dangerous.” Karla’s expression tightened.
“It’s not just Richard,” Elle said. “I…I’m afraid my kidnapper might try again.”
“Jesus. That…that is scary.” The color was draining from Karla’s face.
Luke took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll walk you o
ut, sis.” He turned to Elle. “I’m going to putter around outside where Carmichael can see me. If I don’t look like I’m in a hurry to get back inside, maybe that’ll further convince him you’re not here.”
Elle nodded understanding but didn’t seem thrilled at the idea.
Neither sibling spoke until they reached Karla’s car. When she peered up at him, her eyes were filled with such concern that his chest squeezed with guilt because he knew exactly what she was feeling.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, drawing her into a hug.
Her arms tightened around him. “I thought you needed your vacation days to work on renovating the house.”
He lifted her chin to make her meet his eyes. “True, but that’s not really the problem, is it?”
“Busted.” Karla shook her head. “You’re not a bodyguard. I know Sean does some protection work with his new boss, but it’s not what you’re trained for.” She sighed. “You’re all I’ve got, Luke.”
“Likewise.” He kissed her forehead. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I promise. Now get goin’ before you have a hysterical teenager on your hands. But remember, if Carmichael follows you, don’t go to the salon or your apartment.” She tensed in his arms. “Drive straight to the Ramona station and call me on the way. I’ll be there immediately.”
“I know. And listen, Luke. You don’t have to worry about me as much either. I’m getting better. Honest. You can do whatever you want to do. I mean it. I really do.” She blinked back tears and kissed his cheek before climbing into her car and driving away.
Damn, he hadn’t meant to scare Karla. Silently chastising himself, he waited until her Civic passed the parked Mercedes and drove out of sight without the other car making a move.
While surreptitiously keeping an eye on Carmichael, Luke busied himself in the yard. He rearranged some of the construction materials and watered the few surviving plants with the hose. After twenty minutes of casually working on menial tasks, he checked the mailbox and carried the mail into the house.
Only Obsession (Rogue Security Book 3) Page 5
