by Jianne Carlo
“Yeah, but they transported her by car. Even if they got her right after you left, they would have had to contend with rush-hour traffic on the bridges.”
“Which would mean more than three hours' travel time,” Eli said, and he couldn't keep the relief out of his voice. “We stand a chance of getting to her before they start working her over.” He stepped on the accelerator.
“Hey, we need to get there in one piece,” Bill muttered. “No need to drive like a maniac.”
“I'd like to see your reaction if it were your precious Genevieve who'd been kidnapped. You'd be breaking speed limits too.”
“Great to see you two coping so well with the stress.” Iggie's voice rumbled from the backseat. “Where the hell are we?”
“About fifteen minutes away from Shane's abode,” Eli replied. “Bill, bring the boss current.”
Hang in, Stephanie, honey. Hang in.
Shane Smith, you're a dead man.
“Sam just texted me,” Bill said. “The drug would render her unconscious for at most a couple of hours. Side effects are wooziness, nausea, and erratic mood swings.”
“I never thought I'd pray for Stephanie to be sick, but I am right now.” Anguish gripped Eli's chest, banding his ribs so his heart throbbed and pained with each pump.
“Wait. He's sending Shane's file. He's copying you too, Iggie.” Bill went quiet.
Eli fought the urge to pull over, jam on the brakes, and snatch the Droid out of Bill's hand. The GPS screen showed an ETA at Shane's house in four minutes twenty-three seconds and counting.
“We're almost there.”
“Eli, give me your gun.” Iggie had unsnapped his seat belt; his fingers wriggled through the leather divider between the two front seats.
“Not a chance in hell.” Eli smiled when he spoke. “You going to give me yours?” His gaze met Iggie's in the rearview mirror.
“You two carry weapons?” The horror in Bill's tone made Eli chuckle. “I thought Todd Technologies was a green company like Dreamcoast.”
“Being green doesn't prevent me from carrying a gun,” Iggie stated. “I'm in the public eye, and you will be too once the merger becomes public knowledge. There're a lot of crazies out there. Eli, you will not go off half-cocked. That the road leading to his house?”
“Yep,” Eli answered, choking back a groan when he glanced at the tree-lined turnoff. Of all the shitty luck. A dirt country road; no other dwellings. They were sitting ducks if they drove all the way to Shane's house.
“You ever been here before, Bill?”
“No, Shane's in the middle of a nasty divorce. He moved out of his house about a year ago and rented this place. I don't think he's used it until recently. When we were working on Valentine, most of the graphic personnel used the in-house apartments at our headquarters.”
“Later. We'll have to go on foot. Bill, I suggest you stay behind in case we need you to contact the police.”
“Why don't we call the police and have them handle it?” Bill pleaded.
“The clock's ticking,” Eli growled, “and I'm not risking a single hair on Steph's head. Iggie, I'll lead.”
Swerving off the road, he drove the Sequoia behind a mound of soil.
After giving Bill strict instructions to call the authorities if they didn't return or contact him within fifteen minutes, both men took care to close their doors quietly when they exited the SUV.
Eli hugged the tree line on the left side of the dirt road, and Iggie traced his steps. Dressed head to toe in black from boot-shod feet to black leather jackets, the two men wove into the trees before the road took a ninety-degree bend. Eli held up his hand and halted; Iggie sidled to his side. “No tracks in the dirt. Place looks deserted.”
A three-storied Victorian house fronted by a wide balcony on the first floor stood at the end of the path. Eli scanned the area around the house. February frostbite had killed most of the nonevergreen vegetation. Withered, brackish leaves clustered drifts around stark, spindly tree trunks and gathered into bunches where the house's walls met the wooden porch floor.
“She's not here.” The sour taste of defeat coated Eli's tongue. “No one's been in or out of this house today.”
“We have to check,” Iggie whispered.
“Let's make it quick. We'll go in from the back.”
Eli used one of the stacked fire logs on the porch to break a pane in one of the kitchen windows in the back of the house. He opened the window and lifted himself into the cavernous room. “Someone was here,” he said as Iggie jumped onto the tiled floor.
A white sink on the far end of the room held a high pile of glasses and dirty dishes.
Eli opened the refrigerator opposite a six-seater table. “OJ, beer, a couple of of o steaks, the usual. Steak's pink, not gray.” After closing the appliance's door, his gaze crawled across each counter seeking clues.
“Maybe they were delayed. They could be on the way.”
A notepad next to a wall telephone captured Eli's attention. He reached for it. “Grocery list. Let's get out of here. Maybe Sam's unearthed something in Shane's recent movements.”
“Take the list. We'll get Bill to identify Shane's writing.”
“Good idea.” Eli tore the sheet from the pad and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
Eli insisted they jog back to the Toyota; he would have sprinted, but Iggie refused.
Bill had the Sequoia's windows down, feet propped on the dash while he worked on his Droid. Eli cleared his throat and then asked, “Any news?”
“You fricking scared me to death.” All the color had drained out of Bill's normally pale face.
“Find anything in Shane's file?”
Bill shook his head. “Nothing. If Shane's in on this, he's hidden his tracks well.”
“I guess we might as well head back to the city.” Iggie opened the door and hopped into the rear. “I'll touch base with Sam.”
As he swung into the driver's seat, Eli said, “Bill, can you think of anywhere Shane might have gone?” He started the SUV. “A favorite vacation spot? A relative he's close to?”
“I take it the house was empty?” Bill focused his attention on the Droid's display.
“Yes, but he'd been there recently.” Swerving and stepping hard on the accelerator, Eli rode the incline to the road. The tires skidded in the coarse pebbles lining the side of the road. The steering wheel veered left, and Eli corrected with a hard right.
“Nothing from Sam.” Iggie's terse voice rose over the squealing rubber. “Authorities have Kendrick in custody, but he's lawyered up. ACLU's providing pro bono representation. I have to admit, my stress level's hurdling mountains at the moment. I told Sam to hire whoever he needs. I don't give a rat's ass about the cost.”
“I almost forgot.” Eli jammed his knees around the leather-covered steering wheel and kept the vehicle straight with one hand while he dug into his pocket. “Here. Can you verify that's Shane's writing?”
Smoothing the crumpled sheet on the dash, Bill glanced at the grocery list and then shook his head. “Shane's writing slants backward. He prints. These letters are almost three times the size of his.”
“What?” Eli slammed the brake. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Bill replied. “Hmm. Did you notice favorite is spelled with a u? And so is color?”
It took long seconds for the words to register in Eli's mind. Favorite and color, spelled British-style.
Sam?
Eli shook his head, but the physical action didn't unscramble his brain. “Sam's British. I've never seen his writing.”
“Let me see that,” Iggie ordered.
“Sure.” Bill passed the sheet back.
A swarm of serpents slithered across Eli's shoulder blades. Twisting in his seat to meet Iggie's eyes, he stated, “You recognize the writing.”
Adam's apple working, Iggie nodded.
“It's Lisa's,” Iggie added when Bill's jaw dropped. “My wife, Lisa.”
Lisa. Not Gene
vieve, Lisa.
Iggie's perfect spray-tan complexion took on a greenish cast, and he looked ready to empty the contents of his stomach.
Eli stepped on the accelerator and the SUV gained speed.
“Canadians spell the words that way as well as the Brits.” Bill blinked, removed his glasses, blew on the lenses, and then polished them with his sleeve.
“Shit.” Eli's grip on the wooden steering wheel slipped, and the car swerved and jerked to the right. Fighting to keep the Sequoia off the graveled shoulder, he wrestled with the wheel, swearing under his breath.
“Lisa filed for divorce two days ago. I was—am—blindsided. Came out of nowhere.” Iggie propped his head in his hands. “I have Sam checking into her activities over the last few months. I've been so involved in the merger and the movie and planning the IPO that I haven't been paying attention to Lisa.”
“Does she have any shares in the business?” Bill scowled.
“No. Our prenup is clear and airtight, Bill. She gets a lump sum and alimony. Lisa can't touch the company. All our residential properties are jointly owned, and a year ago, she would have cleaned up. In the current real estate market, they won't bring in much cash.”
“Where's the money, then? She filed for divorce. She can't touch the company or stock. So what's in it for her?” The last word hadn't slipped through Eli's lips before the notion hit him. “Damn it. Genevieve's right—only one person stands to profit if Valentine's delayed—Asia.”
“Cupid's Arrow. She warned me,” Bill muttered. “Genevieve told me Asia invested all his cash with one Scott Rothstein. I had my guys run a background on Rothstein and Asia yesterday. Rothstein is from Ft. Lauderdale, and before his arrest, he ran a Ponzi almost as big as Bernie Madoff's. That's by the way. The fact is that Asia's lost everything, and he needs cash desperately. According to the report I received today, he can't make more than two weeks payroll.”
“I get that Asia needed to delay Valentine's opening to give Cupid's Arrow the edge at the box office. And flooding the market with pirated copies would've eaten into Valentine's first run. That's when blockbusters are made or broken.” Eli dragged a hand through his hair. “But if Asia's behind this scheme, how're Shane and Lisa involved?”
Chapter Twelve
“I should've known. I should've suspected,” Iggie said. “Things haven't been good between Lisa and me for some time, but this…”
“This isn't right. This is so not Shane. We've worked together for over ten years. We're missing something.” Bill's thumbs flew over his Droid's keys. “I lied when I vouched for Genevieve about the night of the cocktail party. She wasn't with me—she was with Shane. He wanted to keep his affair with Genevieve hush-hush until he signed the final divorce papers.”
“What're you doing?” Eli shot Bill a glance.
“Texting Gen. She's a ballet aficionado. Always speaks glowingly of Lisa's talent and how hard it must have been being forced into retirement.” Bill pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Since we decided on Château Pontchartrain as the site for Valentine, Shane, Genevieve, and I've been working together a lot. I like the woman, and she's good for Shane.”
“Get to it, Bill,” Eli snapped.
“Gen went through the wringer when Asia divorced her. She's mentioned more than once that if she'd had the right lawyer, the prenup she signed would never have held up.” His phone rang, and he pressed Receive and Speaker simultaneously.
“Gen, did you get my text? We need to know if Lisa was ever at Shane's place.”
“I won't talk to you about this, Bill. Lisa spoke with me in confidence. I told her to get herself a divorce lawyer and stick to her guns.”
“Stephanie's been kidnapped. She's one of three people who can decrypt the security for the stolen Valentine DVDs.”
Silence reverberated and echoed. Eli heard Genevieve's long sigh. “Lisa started surfing Ashley Madison a few months ago. She met someone and fell in love. We're friends from her ballet days. She phoned me a week ago for advice about a lawyer. I invited her to Shane's house, and we had a couple of glasses of wine and then a light lunch. “
“Do you have any idea who the new man in Lisa's life is?” Bill asked.
“Yes. Lisa had a little too much wine. It's Asia.”
Lisa and Asia?
Eli's mind reeled, and he could barely focus on Bill's murmured conversation with Genevieve.
“Ashley Madison?” Bill asked.
“It's a hook-up site. For married people. And don't ask me how I know about it, Bill. I did try to warn you about Asia. I told you he was behind the missing DVDs.”
Eli growled, “Stephanie's been gone for over three hours. Do you have any idea where Asia could be holed up, Genevieve?”
“He has a home in Reno.”
“Reno,” Eli muttered. “How fast can we get there?”
They rounded the bend to Dreamcoast's headquarters.
“The chopper's still here. We can make it to Reno within half an hour. Can you get Sam to send a team to his house, Iggie? If they're traveling by car, we may be able to make it there before them.” Eli unsnapped his seat belt, jammed the gearshift to park, and then bounded out of the Sequoia. “I've seen that house on Cribs. There's a helipad.”
“Where the hell is Shane in all of this?” Bill asked as he followed Eli and Iggie to the chopper. “And if Gen isn't responsible for the acid in Stephanie's purse, who is?”
The helicopter's engines roared to life, ending further conversation until Eli clipped on his headset, and he missed half of what Iggie said. “What was that?”
“The acid. The hotel's security tape shows a housekeeper team in Steph's room while she was working on her laptop. One of the pics the château sent matches two of the women at the voodoo stunt.”
“So, the housekeepers are the voodoo women, and they put the acid in Steph's purse?”
“Timing would be right. The acid's strength and impact deteriorated on the long drive. That's why Stephanie was only minimally hurt.” Iggie checked his LCD screen. “Sam's team arrived at Asia's house ten minutes ago. It's empty. Sam hired a traffic copter to scout the roads leading to the house.”
“But we don't have a fix on the make or model of the vehicle they're in.” Asia's paranoia and secrecy were legendary. “If Asia spots the chopper…” Eli couldn't finish the thought.
“We're almost there.” Bill pointed to a mountainside devoid of trees and littered with low brush. “That's Asia's place. The helipad's located behind a separate bowling alley.”
“Sam has five armed men inside the house. They're all ex-SWAT personnel.” Iggie's mouth flattened. “They'll let us in a side entrance. We're to obey them and stay in the background.”
“As if,” Eli muttered.
The helicopter scurried and hovered before the skids scraped a rectangular slab of concrete located behind a long, rectangular building. “White Range Rover at the base of the hill. Get in there pronto, guys. You have at max eight minutes,” Sam snapped. “Iggie, Eli, don't go off half-cocked.”
The team of ex-SWAT personnel herded Eli, Bill, and Iggie into a study off a circular multistory lobby area that sported a spectacular ornate staircase and a crystal-drop chandelier which topped Eli by a foot. The team took up positions in the room, and seconds later, the sound of metal on metal tinkled in the silence. Eli edged left so he had a clear view of the mansion's frosted glass doors. Spying Lisa Mason's elegant profile, he sucked in a breath when Asia Springstone's craggy features appeared at her side. The door banged open.
“Cut the whining, Lisa. It's been nonstop complaining since we left 'Frisco.” Asia marched into the vestibule. “The clock's ticking.”
“What happens if she won't give us the decryption?” Lisa stalked through the doorway. She squeezed ahead of Asia and spun around, planted her feet wide apart, and stabbed her slate clutch at Asia's chest.
“Then one of the IT firms we have on payroll will break the code.” Asia threw a gym bag onto a g
lass table centered under the chandelier. “Grab the passports and the cash. We're one step ahead of the authorities. Scott Rothstein's spilling his guts and trying to cut a deal with the FBI. If I know the spineless, lily-livered asshole, he's giving them all the details.”
“I don't understand why Rothstein came back. He was holed up in Geneva. He could've stayed there.”
“He has a US passport. That's where we're ahead of him. We have Moroccan passports. They can't extradite us. What's important now is moving the money from Switzerland. I'm not going to jail, not under any circumstances.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Eli caught a glimpse of two of the SWAT guys approaching the Range Rover.
Shit, they'll never make it without Asia noticing.
Eli reacted on sheer instinct; he picked up an oriental urn and threw it at the chandelier. An explosion rent the tranquility of the setting. Crystal shattered. Three of the members of the SWAT team crouching behind a sofa sprang into motion, leaping over the chair's back, arms straight, hands holding semiautomatic pistols aimed at Lisa and Asia.
“Don't tempt me,” one man growled.
“Fuck.” Asia raised his hands above his head. “We were so fucking close.”
“We got her.” The shout came from the driveway.
Eli shoved around the SWAT team. He sprinted down the steps and made it to the Range Rover in the driveway in record time, pushing past the two SWAT guys standing guard to the right of the car.
Stephanie lay sprawled in the backseat. She blinked up at him, and a wan smile curved her lips.
He opened the door, scooted across the leather, and curved his arms under her legs while burying her nose in her hair. He'd forever love the smell of ginger. Sweat trailed down the side of his cheek, and his heart seemed to rival the enormous organ that the houngan had brandished at the château.
“I feel sick,” she mumbled. “I think I'm going to throw up.” She fumbled with the door.
Eli grabbed the handle and threw the door wide.
“It's okay, honey. I've got you.” He supported her at the waist as she leaned over and emptied her stomach. An ambulance flashing lights and screaming alarms tore up the driveway. Eli'd never been so glad to hear a siren.
