As soon as he pulled out onto the street, the Regal followed. Wyatt wondered what their plan was, or if they even had one. Did they think that they could run him off the road and take Beth, or make it quick with a drive-by shooting?
For starters, if they intended to gain the advantage, they shouldn’t have given him so much warning. This was going to be fun. There was only one thing Wyatt had to be careful of; he didn’t want to ding the pristine Corvette he was driving. Travis wouldn’t appreciate that.
On the main road, the bad guys hung back to keep Wyatt from spotting them. There were a few other cars on the road. Maybe his pursuers would see the odds weren’t in their favor and give up the chase before it started. But no such luck.
Traffic ebbed and flowed, then the Regal edged behind, too close for comfort. It was a maneuver that put them in position to pull to the side of the Corvette. No way was Wyatt going to give them a clear shot at Beth. He was not in the mood to test the bulletproof windows.
He gave the Corvette some gas, and the finely tuned engine responded. The guy driving the Regal revved the engine and peeled out, trying to keep up. Somebody had gone to a lot of effort to make that car serviceable. Wyatt was anxious to see if it had the guts to back up its showy exterior.
Leaning into the accelerator, Wyatt let the Corvette fly. It was a giddy feeling, and if there hadn’t been mobsters threatening, he would have thoroughly enjoyed it. He looked over at Beth. She had her seatbelt securely fastened and her eyes glued to the road.
Wyatt had to give the Regal some credit, as it passed several cars and quickly showed up in his rearview mirror. Too bad the driver was a moron, because the jacked-up vehicle was impressive. Since Wyatt had been born and raised in New York, he knew the roads well.
Likely the dudes behind him weren’t locals—just a guess.
The Holland Tunnel was behind him; he’d lured the Regal away. He just had to turn around and get to the entrance before they did. Then they’d be toast. He cruised down the street, driving away from the route to the tunnel with the bad guys on his ass.
“Put your feet up on the dash and hold on to the headrest,” Wyatt said to Beth. “Brace yourself.”
With a glance in the rearview to see that the gangsters were still paying attention, Wyatt nudged the Corvette to thirty-five miles per hour. With one hand on the steering wheel, he did a maneuver with the emergency brake. The rear wheels locked, and the tires slid with a loud squeal. Yanking the steering wheel to the right, followed by a hard left, he rotated the Corvette in a semicircle.
Releasing the emergency brake, Wyatt dipped through an opening in the street divider, hit the accelerator, and passed the Regal, going the other direction. He increased his speed and headed for the Holland Tunnel.
“What was that?” Beth said, lowering her feet to the floor.
“A thing of beauty,” Wyatt said, glancing at her. “It’s good to know I’m not out of practice.”
“Now I know why I take cabs.”
By the time the mobsters figured out what happened and managed to turn the Regal to head in the right direction, it was too late. Wyatt rolled into the tunnel and looked behind him. His unworthy followers were many cars back, and traffic was stacked up in every lane, edging into the tunnel.
“We lost them,” Wyatt said, turning toward Beth. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Beth put her hand on his thigh. “Just get me out of this tunnel, so I can call my brother.”
“And I need to text Travis to find out where to get those pills analyzed. We need to find out what your father has been doped up with.” He looked over at Beth, but she was focused on the traffic. He had to get out of this damn tunnel, but short of making the Corvette fly, he was going to have to wait. Unfortunately, his patience had worn thin.
Chapter 16
When Wyatt exited the tunnel, there was no sign of anyone following. The lanes were clogged with traffic, so there was no chance of the Regal edging ahead. As soon as they were through, Wyatt leaned on the Corvette’s accelerator to speed through the streets, taking an alternate route to avoid traffic.
“Are they following us?” Beth said, glancing back.
“No, we’re clear.” Wyatt didn’t like seeing her distressed. “So before our company showed up, you were telling me about getting Kyle involved.”
“Yes, I’m just so shocked at my father’s condition, but he’s out of my grasp. I don’t have any say about his health or safety.”
“But Kyle does?”
“Legally, my uncle makes the decisions, but the facility has to listen to the financially responsible party. My father set up a medical program for the principals of the company. He did it long ago, because insurance was inadequate.”
“That was smart.”
“Yes, well, now his bills are covered. But as much as Martin might think he runs the show, he doesn’t…not completely. My brother is acting CEO, and oversees the accounts payable department,” Beth said. “He has the authority to see that my father’s care is up to par.”
“So he can intercede, temporarily.”
Beth sighed. “That’s my hope. I suppose if Foster didn’t pay the bills at all, the care facility would kick my father out. But that’s no good, because Martin would just have him moved to some state hospital. That would be much worse.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“Not even close—I’m desperate here, and grasping at straws,” Beth said. “But I don’t have any better ideas. Do you?”
Wyatt smiled. “All of my ideas involve way more drama.” He could get Stephen out of there by force. In a situation like this, Beth’s strategy was more likely to be effective—and had the best chance of improving her father’s circumstances.
Surveillance of the care facility hadn’t been surprising. It had been a given that Beth would visit her father, and had only been a matter of time. But the facility was rather out in the open, and a van with blacked-out windows would have stuck out more than the gangster mobile had.
That meant one thing to Wyatt: there was someone on the inside. Likely the nurse had been instructed to report in when Beth showed up. It hadn’t taken long to get some guys on the scene.
Beth looked at him. “What are you thinking?”
“That we need to find out what those pills are.” Wyatt pulled into an open parking space, to figure out where to go next.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll know in a second.” Wyatt reached Travis, and filled him in on the latest events, while Beth watched him intently.
“I can hook you up with someone,” Travis said. “The forensic lab we use has a location in the city. Fred Grimes is a sharp tech.”
“We need it done fast, though.”
“I’ll let him know it’s a priority,” Travis said. “Here’s the address.”
Wyatt made note of where to go and ended the call. “I have a place that can analyze those meds,” he said to Beth. “We’ll go straight there.”
The office was north of Kings County Hospital, and it was a bit of a drive, but not bad. There was an adjacent multistoried parking structure, so Wyatt took the first open spot. He took Beth’s hand, then headed for the lab.
The reception area could have been any doctor’s office, with its out-of-style furniture and linoleum flooring. One difference was the lack of magazines, but it wasn’t likely that patrons waited around. It was more of a drop-off arrangement.
When the door opened, Wyatt got a quick view of the lab techs, wearing goggles and white coats. There were melamine tables evenly spaced down the long room. The vinyl flooring, acoustic ceiling tiles, plus various types of equipment, tubing, and wires completed the sterile look.
A middle-aged man with his goggles dangling around his neck approached. “You must be Wyatt…Travis’s guy?” They shook hands. “I’m Fred.”
“How soon can you have this done for us?” Travis motioned for Beth to hand over the pills. “We need these analyzed…like
, yesterday.”
“I got that it’s urgent, but the best I can do is by tomorrow morning. Sorry, but you aren’t the only emergency.”
“What time do you open?”
“I’ll be in by seven, and I should have an answer for you by then,” Fred said.
Wyatt would have liked it sooner, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. “We’ll be here.”
When they stepped outside, Wyatt said, “I’m not taking you home…yet. Staying out of sight has been effective. Plus, we might as well stay in Brooklyn, since we have to be back here so early.”
“I’m game.” Beth looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. “I can’t keep wearing these clothes, though. So if we’re doing another overnighter, I have some shopping to do…for both of us.”
Wyatt needed a change of clothes too. “Okay, we’ll hit up the mall and see what we can find.”
“Then for tonight, the Sheraton is close. Will that work?”
“Yep, it’s not far,” Wyatt said. “And I don’t think anyone is going to be looking for us in Brooklyn.”
The mall had plenty of stores, so purchasing new outfits didn’t pose a problem. Beth got into shopping, and bought new shoes and a hat too. It distracted her, so Wyatt had no objection.
After she made her purchases, Wyatt took her to dinner. He didn’t bring up any subjects that were a downer; Beth would have to face all that soon enough. He was content to eat in peace, something Beth had experienced too little of lately.
It was different, to just sit and enjoy a woman’s companionship, without the need to talk. Wyatt liked Beth’s company. He didn’t like the prospect of flying back to LA when this was all over, and not seeing her again. And he would certainly miss her in his bed.
Beth excited him like no woman had, and he wanted much more of her than he was likely to have. She was everything he needed, and he wanted to spend his life with her. Yet he hadn’t allowed his thoughts to go there. It would only make it more difficult when the time came to part.
The truth was that he loved Beth. Yet he hadn’t told her. He had his reasons, and at the top of the list was that he didn’t want her to feel obligated. He was her protector, her savior from the clutches of the enemy. But he did so out of duty, and from caring what happened to her. She didn’t owe him a damned thing.
After the meal, Wyatt took her to the Sheraton for a good night’s rest. The security of the suite put his mind at ease. He’d requested a room that was equidistant between the elevator and the fire exit, providing two escape routes. And he’d chosen one that wasn’t near the stairwell, as it provided too much advantage to any potential abductor.
Wyatt flipped the safety latch on the door, then did a last check for messages. He removed his gun and holster, got undressed, then waited for Beth to come to bed. She emerged and walked over to him, wearing a hotel robe. In the low light, she looked like a goddess.
Her dark hair had grown out some, and it fell in short waves around her face. Wyatt looked into her eyes, pushing all thoughts of sleep aside. When she dropped the robe and got into bed naked, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and slid in next to her.
Beth smelled of roses and soap. Her skin was like satin, her hair silky. Wyatt drew her close, and the feel of her soft lips drove him to distraction. He may not be able to spend his life with her, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy every night they had together.
Wyatt made love to her, slowly and tenderly, telling her with his caresses how much he cared. Maybe she knew, because Beth responded with passion that left him weak in the knees. He took her more than once, unable to get enough. And she seemed to feel an equally deep need, reaching for him again.
When Beth finally nestled into his arms and drifted to sleep, Wyatt buried his face in her hair. God, how he loved her. He had no assurance of how much longer he’d be with her, but what he wanted most of all was for her to be happy—he’d make sure of that.
*****
The next morning, Wyatt was at the lab when Fred unlocked the door. He held Beth’s hand and squeezed it for reassurance. Whatever the news was, he feared it wouldn’t be good.
In a private room, the lab tech reviewed the results of the analysis, highlighting important details. “There are medications that can mimic dementia.”
Beth scooted to the edge of her seat and clasped her hands in her lap.
“When patients have memory issues, they’ll often ask their doctor if it’s something they’re taking,” Fred said. “And sometimes it is.”
The lab tech waited a moment, then went on, “The side effects of various drugs can interfere with attention, memory, language, and cognitive faculties.” He took a breath. “An examining clinician might incorrectly suspect the presence of dementia.”
Wyatt wished he’d skip the technical jargon and get to the point.
Fred looked at Beth. “The medication your father was given made it appear that he had Alzheimer’s…when likely he didn’t.” He leaned on the desk. “It’s not my place to accuse, but my professional opinion is that it was intentional.”
Beth gasped.
The tech handed over the test results, including the name of the drug. Wyatt looked over Beth’s shoulder, but didn’t recognize the unpronounceable name of the medication.
“That is a potent drug. I’m quite familiar with it,” Fred said. “With your father’s condition as you describe it, a doctor would have no basis to prescribe this medication. It would be harmful, as I’m sure you witnessed.”
Beth gripped the paper. “If the meds made him feel bad, couldn’t my father have stopped taking them…or just refused?”
“Not really…because it’s a heavy sedative. I doubt he was cognizant of what was going on, except in rare moments.”
Wyatt understood what the tech said, but he wanted to hear it stated…just to be sure. “So, if I have this correctly, it appears that the drug was administered to Stephen Foster in order to give him the symptoms of Alzheimer’s.”
Fred hesitated before he spoke, his tone cautious. “I would say so.” He looked at Wyatt. “I’m only sharing that insight due to your position here. If you are to protect Mr. Foster, as well as his daughter, you need to be aware of the severity of what you’re dealing with.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” Beth said. “We’ll decide what to do from here.”
Once outside, Wyatt said, “It’s malpractice, and considering the doctor prescribed with the intent to harm, it’s a crime.”
Beth wrapped her arms around her waist. “My father started taking medication for back pain. Uncle Martin was concerned about him, so sent him to his doctor for an examination.”
“Let me guess: Martin’s doctor prescribed the blue pills.”
“I’m sure my uncle paid him well to continue refilling that prescription.”
Wyatt could tell that Beth was shocked by the magnitude of the evil, the heartlessness of it all. He’d come in contact with cold-blooded killers before, so had taken the news better. Yet it disgusted him that Martin was such a soulless creature.
He took Beth to the closest café for an espresso, allowing her a few minutes to recover. The place was busy, so they sat on stools at the window seating.
“Martin paid off the doctor and orchestrated your father’s medical care. He ensured that Stephen would be deemed incompetent, so it would be easy to take control of the company.”
“And my brother didn’t suspect a thing,” Beth said. “I didn’t either, for that matter.” Her wide eyes revealed the sadness she felt. “I believed my father had that dreadful disease.” She bit her lower lip. “My uncle harmed his own brother…for money.”
“It does boil down to greed.”
“Do you think that nurse Irma is in on it?”
Wyatt rolled his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter too much now, but I suspect she’s the one who tipped off the mob, and let them know that you’d come to visit your father.”
“My father is a victim,” Beth said. “He doe
sn’t deserve any of this.”
Wyatt reached over to squeeze her hand.
“It’s appalling. My uncle has gone too far,” Beth said. “He knew my father wouldn’t back him up in his underhanded schemes, so…he made certain he was out of the way.”
“And he’s doing his damndest to get you out of the picture too.”
Beth stood up. “I have to get to my brother, so he can help. We have to rescue my father as soon as possible. I can’t bear the thought of him all drugged up and semiconscious, hardly knowing where he is.”
Wyatt pushed the door open for her, and they headed back to the car. Martin’s intricate ploy was no longer hidden, his activities no longer executed in the shadows. No doubt he would soon be aware of that turn of events, and his fight for survival would escalate.
That would make him all the more deadly. Wyatt had to make sure the man was stopped before he did any more damage. But first, he had to help Beth save her father.
*****
It was late morning when Beth and Wyatt strode into Foster International. The office seemed unusually quiet. A few staff tapped on their computers. The conference room was empty, and the coffee room as well.
The atmosphere at the company was as dour as Beth felt. She wished she’d run into Martin and put an end to all of this. As furious as she was, likely she’d rip his eyes out before he knew what hit him. But such was not to be. The slime bag wasn’t at his desk.
Kyle’s office was empty, and his desk was orderly. It appeared that he hadn’t been in yet. Hopefully, he hadn’t been sent to negotiate with another out-of-town client. “He has to be around,” Beth said, and Wyatt nodded.
Susan was at her desk, going through some paperwork. “Beth, it’s been ages.” She glanced at Wyatt and smiled.
“I know, and I’m sorry about that,” Beth said. “We are overdue for lunch. But today…I’m on kind of an urgent mission. Is Kyle in? He’s not in his office.”
“I haven’t seen him yet,” Susan said. “Normally he’s in early, unless he has a meeting. But there’s nothing on the schedule. I tried to reach him, but just got his voicemail.” She shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll show up.”
Lethal Peril_Military Romantic Suspense Page 19
