Harley, Connor, and Alex were engrossed in conversation up front with the boat’s skipper, their heads tilted together. Izza stood at the rail with him, watching. Hawaii was coming up fast in the west. Soon they’d swing south and make their way into Pearl Harbor. Too soon.
“God,” he groaned. “Where is she?”
“We’ll find her,” Izza promised, fighting her own tears. “That little boy of yours, too.”
Adam didn’t argue over her choice of words. She was right. Shannon and Squeaks were his. The gaping hole in his heart proved it.
Connor joined them on Adam’s other side. “Want to bet her father’s behind this?”
“Paul Reagan?” Adam asked in surprise. “But why kidnap his own daughter? No, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Me and Connor been talking with Alex,” Izza said. “He had Mother do some checking into Brit Paxton. The son-of-a-bitch cheated on Shannon the whole time they were married.”
“Yeah. I know that, but it doesn’t prove her father’s involved.”
“No, but the fact that he’s been paying Paxton on the side, does,” Connor stated. “Alex doesn’t know why yet, but he’s digging into Reagan and Paxton. He’ll find out.”
Adam scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. Neither Reagan nor Paxton mattered. One was dead, the other a flaming bastard. Shannon wasn’t where she was supposed to be—with him. That’s what mattered.
The claustrophobic sensation he’d dealt with when he buried Donavan was nothing compared to the monstrous darkness he fought now. The need to strike back welled up from his soul, a surefire source of nuclear energy brimmed to overflowing. It could save lives as easily as it could lay waste.
He’d relied on it, nurtured it, called on it as needed on black ops across the globe. And he needed to unleash it now. To run to her rescue, or to fight the world for her. Yet there he stood, his fists clenched at his side. Doing nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest, breathing hard. Not knowing where Shannon and Squeaks were was hell, pure and simple.
Oahu came into view. The boat reduced speed and puttered into the channel toward Pearl Harbor. Adam had been there before on too many assignments to notice the sights now. Ghostly images of Shannon and Squeaks overlaid every shoreline and every picturesque postcard view. Maybe she was safe, but where, damn it? Where?
Connor placed a foot to the side of the boat and stepped onto the dock. “Alex has a car waiting. Let’s go.”
“Right behind you.” Izza followed. Connor latched onto his wife’s elbow as he safely helped her off the boat. He pulled his wife into his arms and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “We’re safe.”
“I wonder what Jamie and Braxton are doing right now,” Izza said, her voice brimming with emotion. “I can’t wait to get home. They’ll be so happy to see us.”
Adam swallowed his heart and turned from the happy scene, his lips tight and the reality of his loss slapping him down again. This was no welcome home. Alex clapped him on the back. Harley stood at his other side, and together they walked to the waiting Navy shuttle.
“We’ve got a flight out of here in four hours. You ready to go?” Alex asked.
Adam turned to his boss, steeled to answer like a man. “Yes, Boss.” His hoarse voice betrayed him.
“I’ve got everyone looking for Miss Reagan. Mother and Ember are both pulling down satellite images. The whole office is engaged. We will find her.”
Adam nodded, mutely fighting the desolate storm sweeping over him.
“Think about it. Whoever had the means to take her also knew exactly where to do it. And when. Surveillance like that takes someone with guts and power.”
“And a lot of money,” Harley added.
Adam glanced at his boss. “Do you really think Reagan would abduct his own daughter?” It made no sense.
Icy blue eyes gentled the moment they made contact. “Let’s go home, son.”
“Adam! You’ve got to see this!”
He’d just stepped out of the shower when Harley bellowed at the hotel bathroom door. He wrapped the closest bath towel around his waist. He joined everyone gathered in front of the television. CNN’s reporter on site, Milani Kekoa, had just announced that billionaire Paul Reagan’s elite search-and-rescue team had recovered the missing heiress, Shannon Reagan.
Adam’s heart stopped at the sight of her at her father’s elbow. Thank God. There she is. She’s okay.
The camera zoomed in for a close-up of two stony-faced tough guys, then panned the dock for a shot of the rescue boat. Sleek, off-black from stem to stern, it looked like one of the many military ops boats that had transported Adam into and out of dangerous ops. Designed for stealth and rigged for assault, they were the best at infil and exfil—infiltration and exfiltration to civilians.
“That bad boy’s not government issue,” Connor muttered, stabbing a finger at the screen.
“And they’re not your regular search-and-rescue guys, either,” Harley added.
“That boat’s experimental. It’s designed to avoid radar detection,” Alex growled. “No wonder the GW only detected a pod of humpbacks.”
Adam stared, needing to see Shannon and Squeaks, not the boats.
Dressed in black T-shirts and pants, the square, muscular bodies and military stance of the men behind Shannon gave them away. They were Paul Reagan’s muscle. Nothing but. But why’d he need to send ex-special ops guys after his daughter, and why didn’t Shannon look happy? Better question, where the hell was Squeaks?
Shannon kept her eyes focused on the dock when her father pushed her toward the reporters and beamed over her shoulder. He seemed to be prompting her, his hand gripping her bicep while he leaned around her into the camera. Her drawn face didn’t portray any joy at being reunited with him. She had yet to smile, and she’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy. Her lips thin.
Adam’s heart ached for her. She’d had one helluva day, but this was not the way he’d wanted the day she gave birth to Squeaks to end. Where the hell is he?
“Miss Reagan, how did you survive without decent food and water all this time? What was it like out there? Whatever did you live on?”
“Were you alone?” another reporter interrupted. “Did anyone else survive?”
When Shannon didn’t respond to those questions, her father whispered into her ear. He offered the camera a stifled smile while he obviously gave his daughter a hint. Or a threat. She flinched, but mumbled, still without making eye contact, “We did what we had to do.”
“Where the hell is Squeaks?” Adam demanded, his blood pressure climbing higher the more that question went unanswered. Nothing about the interview struck true, and Shannon looked as forlorn as the day she’d gotten sick in the elevator.
“We understand from your father that you gave birth to a son while you were stranded. Congratulations! How did you manage a premature delivery by yourself? Weren’t you scared?”
He voice quavered. “Jimmy’s very small, b-b-but he’s—”
Adam ran both hands through his hair. God, where is he?
Her father leaned into the mic and took over the interview. “As you can see, my poor daughter is still in shock. She’s dirty. She’s been living on next to nothing. She’s confused, and it’s been a trying day. Please, give her time to recover.”
“Where’s your baby now, Miss Reagan?” the reporter persisted, shoving the microphone back under Shannon’s nose. “And where are the others who were on that plane with you? Was anyone injured? Did they get rescued, too?”
She shook her head, her gaze still on the dock. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Once again, Paul Reagan took over, both hands on his daughter’s shoulders as he jostled her out of the way. “No further comment. That’s all for now. Thank you for your—”
“But Miss Reagan.” Pushy Milani Kekoa wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Is there anything you want to say now that you’re safe and sound? Isn’t there anyone you’d like to thank for your survival?
”
Shannon finally stared into the camera, her beautiful pale blue eyes stabbing Adam straight to his heart. “There’s, umm, no one.”
Adam turned away from the television, ready to explode. “Where the hell is Squeaks?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What do you want?” Shannon didn’t ask so much as she shrieked. Her father’s private jet hurtled eastward, and she was on it. Linda sat at the front of the plane with Jimmy. He’d gotten his first bath while a doctor treated her broken arm, then handed her a mechanical breast pump. Jimmy was her baby, but she couldn’t hold him, much less bathe or nurse him. Enough was enough!
“Sit,” her father demanded, his eyes dark and angry. “If you’re done throwing temper tantrums, I’ll tell you.”
She glanced at the top of Linda’s head, the only part of the blonde shrew she could see above the seatback. That woman had turned the swivel chair forward. Right now, she had Jimmy, and Shannon was losing her mind. She sat, her throat dry and her heart pounding.
This man in front of her was no longer her father. Paul Reagan had grown darker since she’d boarded his Gulfstream to accompany the drones to Hawaii, and not because he’d been worried about her. He seemed frail, as if he’d aged in the last week. The event he’d staged with the press had taken its toll. By the time he’d ducked into his limo, he’d been sweating and his hands shaking.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked for the umpteenth time.
“Because you will represent Reagan Industries from now on. You will act professional when you do. Your public demeanor will be above reproach every day, and you will do as you’re told.”
“When haven’t I?”
He frowned, his lips puckered, his bushy brows pinched into a tight V. All he needed was the pencil-thin moustache to twirl between his fingertips, and he’d look like the dastardly villain he was, older but just as mean. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world, daughter. You’ll see. You won’t have time for anything but the business for a long time.” There was something odd about the way he mouthed daughter, like it tasted bad on his tongue. He licked his lips all the time, his tongue constantly on the move as if saliva had become a scarce commodity.
“I’ll do whatever you ask, but I’m that baby’s mother, not your buddy Linda.” She jumped back to her feet. “The only way I’ll entertain taking over your company is when you give my son back.”
Paul Reagan struggled to his feet, clutching the armrests until he stood face to face with her. She didn’t see it coming. The blinding slap knocked her against the nearest passenger seat.
You… You hit me.
The shock of being struck for the first time in her life robbed the compartment of air. She fell to her hands and knees. Her eyes watered, but she glared up at him. He leaned into her face, his lips curled back, and his yellowed teeth bared. Foul breath wafted into her nose. “You think you can give me ultimatums? Me? I’ll have you know I’m the king of ultimatums!”
Shannon lowered her head from his hysterical rant, her palm to her tender cheekbone. No one spoke a word in her defense. No one scrambled to intervene. Not Linda, the butched-up nursemaid. Not the Bobbsey Twins. No one.
“Do you think I’ve built this empire so you can squander it away like some two-bit whore?” he bellowed.
She blinked at the venom spewing over her. If he’d been willing to hit her, what would he do to Jimmy if she offered further resistance?
“It’s time you grew up and took your place in the world. You’re not like the rest of your silly girlfriends. You’re a Reagan. It’s time you acted like one.”
Shannon licked her swollen lip, tasting blood and salty tears. She wiped her eyes. She had no girlfriends, but her father wouldn’t know that. How could he? He knew nothing about her. The time to cry had passed. No more tears. No more foolish, loving daughter, either.
He stuck a bony finger into the soft hollow under her chin and forced her head up. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, will you?”
Summoning the nerve, she rose shakily to her feet and faced what Paul Reagan had become. Wispy strands of silvery hair had replaced the dark. No longer trimmed or tidy, it hung over the protruding forehead of a skeletal face. His tongue flicked in and out of his mouth over thin lips, his skin peeling and cracked. Spidery black veins bulged through the transparent skin his forearms. He was sick. Very sick.
There was a time she would’ve cared. Not any more.
He stared down his imperious nose at her. “This is the way it will work from now on, little girl. You will return to live at Reagan Manor. Linda will provide childcare to that thing you gave birth to, while you take over my business and make a profit. No profit, no mommy time, understood? You won’t squander my life’s work. Do I make myself clear?”
Your life’s work. That’s what this is all about. You. Just you.
She couldn’t answer. Her nostrils flared with defiance. He seemed to think he’d won, and maybe he had, but only for the time being. She’d experienced genuine and very tender love during her island time. There was more in the world than outrageous wealth and power.
Her father rambled on. “You and I will hold a press conference and announce the change in two days. You’ll move into my office so I can better train you in the propriety and intricacies of my trade. Got it? Eventually, we’ll sanitize the flimsy cover story we just sold to the press to better explain the crash you survived and the whereabouts of the drones.” He dropped his hand and swayed but only to hold onto the seat to catch his balance.
With her mask of indifference in place, she planned. I will get Jimmy back somehow, and we’ll run away. I’ll call Adam. He’ll come for me. I know he will. I have means. I’m not helpless. I have my own place, my own company, and my own money. I can write for a living. I don’t need you or your pathetic excuse for a dynasty. Just Jimmy. Just Adam.
Her father sat heavily in the seat across from her, sighing as he mopped a hand over his brow. It seemed he didn’t expect her to answer. He’d had his say. His eyes fluttered closed. Rapid, short breaths told Shannon that exhaustion from hitting her—and telling all those lies—had worn him out.
“You’ll see,” he said tiredly, his eyes still closed. “Reagan Industries is a hard beast to tame, but like it or not, you’re all I’ve got. You may not be much, and you may not want the successful business I’ve spent a lifetime building, but you will do it. Just wait.”
No, Father. Just you wait.
“Adam!” Ember ran straight to him the minute he stepped off the elevator, hugging him to her ample bosom in a sisterly embrace that never ceased to amaze him. How this voluptuous woman could come across so innocent with all of her well-endowed and luscious feminine attributes was sometimes the office joke, but that was Ember—a free spirit and one of the few people Adam allowed to hug him. Mostly because he had no choice. Ember overflowed with spontaneity. She never asked. Never judged. Just hugged.
“You’ve got to see this.” She bubbled over with her usual effervescent warmth, her hand clamped onto his wrist while she dragged him to her desk. “Me and Mother have been working nonstop since Shannon disappeared. See here?” She forced him to sit at her computer screen.
He had no choice at that, either. It had been precisely two dreadful days since he’d left Hawaii. Instantly, Mother slid her chair alongside him. “I’ve been worried about you,” she said quietly. “Let me show you what we’ve found.”
Also known as Sasha Kennedy, the techno-geek who controlled information flows, internal and external for The TEAM, Mother was extremely capable and hands down the best on the East Coast at her job. She could be a dynamo when it came to obtaining intelligence most others couldn’t or didn’t know how to locate, whether from federal or private servers. He suspected she dabbled in hacking; she was that good. Unfortunately, with that whiz-kid personality came a propensity to gossip. She was harmless, lovable—and nosey.
He turned to the screen, thankful he didn’t have to lie and say he was
fine. She had a copy of the latest edition of the local newspaper on her desk, along with an interview with the Navy protocol officer. He’d already read it, and Mother was no doubt up to her ears in a dozen double-checks on any hint of intel in that article that she didn’t already know. Yeah. That good.
Short and succinct, the article included a stock picture of a navy utility boat, similar to the one that had swept Shannon and Squeaks out of his life. No mention was made of any members of The TEAM being on that island, however, or in the crash with Shannon. Adam understood why the standoff with the Koreans went unexplained. The government might have covered that up for the sake of domestic security, but that seven other people had gone down in the crash deserved mention.
The article detailed how the National Transportation Safety Board was conducting their usual round of investigations. More information would be forthcoming. Stay tuned. Enquiring minds needed to know.
Adam knew better. When and if the NTSB located the black box to that downed Gulfstream, and if the DoD didn’t squash some of the details of the story, Paul Reagan would. At the very least, they’d both apply enough whitewash until the truth was no longer recognizable, and the Korean espionage was palatable enough for public consumption. Reagan would invent some cover-up. The Feds would go along with it. Adam knew how it worked. He’d been in the Navy. He’d seen bullshit in action before.
Mark Houston came to stand behind him, his strong grip on Adam’s shoulders like a brother. “Good to have you back. Briefing in five. Alex wants you to meet someone.”
Adam only nodded, the kindness of his fellow agents hard to deal with when he had a hole in his heart the size of Texas. All the niceties and quick comebacks of a normal day in the office failed him. He was the walking dead, and the dead didn’t speak.
Adam Page 24
