Her hand hovered over the send button as she reviewed the text she had composed on the untraceable phone. If you don’t want 2nd video on YouTube deposit $5m in account number 155867779-0, 127509378721 @ Bank of Switzerland. If $ is not in acct by close of biz Thursday Dec. 31 video will post. Should she do it? Could she do it?
Chapter Six
On the dining terrace at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Tuesday morning, December 29, 2015
Dillon and Mikaela were relaxing at the table after enjoying a huge breakfast on the dining terrace. They were planning to spend the morning at the pool getting some sun. This little hotel really was a jewel. He had to talk to Jamie about getting in on the action. Mikaela was just about to reach for the coffee carafe to top off their cups when her phone signaled an incoming text. They both jumped. She looked at him, and her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Do you want me to get it, babe?”
“Yes. No. Yes. I don’t know.” The text signal continued to chime. Finally, she handed him the phone. He pressed the text icon and the message popped up.
“Son of a bitch. I’m forwarding this to Morgan Court and Jamie.” He quickly accomplished the task.
“Dil, what does it say?” He hesitated. He didn’t want to share this with her, but he had no choice.
“That they will post the second video to YouTube if you don’t deposit five million dollars to an account number at the Bank of Switzerland by close of business on Thursday, December 31.” He swore. “Are they crazy? Five fucking million dollars? They have to be nuts.”
“Dillon, I can do that if I make the arrangements right now. But the question is should I do it? If I give in and pay will the demands stop, or will they just keep coming back for more? Maybe I should tough it out and tell them to go ahead and post it.”
“I don’t know, Mikaela. It’s a hard call. That is a shitload of money to pay out to a blackmailer with no guarantee that it will solve the problem. Let’s go down to the office and talk to Jamie and Dane.”
“I’m sick to my stomach, Dillon. You go and talk to them. I’m going up to the suite for a couple of minutes.”
“Okay, baby. Try and calm down. I wish I could take my own good advice.”
* * * *
Mikaela’s hands were shaking as she punched the elevator button for their floor. Shit. This is it. Fish or cut bait. Should she cut and run? Should she stand and fight? What effect would her decision have on Dillon either way? She could weather a little scandal, but his election campaign might not be able to. And then there was Joe Cavanaugh. If she let this affect Dillon he would never forgive her—and never was a fucking long time over Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners for the rest of her life.
If they had a little more time, the Court Industries security guys might be able to do something. She knew Dillon had sent the text on to them. She opened the door to the suite and walked in. She sat down by the window and began to compose a text of her own. I don’t know who you are, but you obviously hate me. This is personal. I can feel it. I need more time to get $5m together. All funds are tied up in trusts. I need at least a week. If you post video w/o giving me the opportunity to get the money together we both lose. Should she send it? Would it help? It might give Court’s people time to find the blackmailer, and it might give her time to make her getaway. She hit Send.
* * * *
Offices of Court Industries, New York City, Tuesday morning, December 29, 2015
Morgan Court picked up his cell phone when the text signal beeped. He read the text Dillon Cavanaugh had forwarded from Mikaela’s phone. Fuck. These people had balls. Five million. That was a lot of cash with no guarantee. He buzzed John McGregor.
“I got it, boss. We’re on it. We might be able to triangulate a location. Wait. Mikaela is answering the text. That gives us a better chance to locate the burner cell if they respond. I’ll get back to you.”
* * * *
Dillon was sitting in Dane Dunross’s office while they waited for Jamie to come down from his suite.
“Fuck, Dillon. I’m sorry. I know this is hell for both of you. I don’t know that I would be willing to turn over five million with no guaranties.” Dane looked concerned.
“I know. People like this are never satisfied. After they’ve gone through the five mil, what’s to stop them from making another trip to the well?”
Jamie Devereau came through the office door at a trot. “There’s nothing to stop them. Why don’t you see what Court has to say before you both make any decisions?”
“This is so fucking nerve wracking. Mikki must be losing her mind. She went upstairs to lie down for a few minutes. She wasn’t feeling well.”
Dane hit some buttons on his laptop. “I hate to tell you this, man, but she’s not upstairs. Her GPS chip indicates she just left the hotel grounds and is heading west on Sunrise Boulevard.”
“What do you mean? You can tell where guests are at all times?”
“This GPS monitoring system was developed for use on the Golden Dolphin, which carries wealthy passengers to some less than savory places around the globe. Once we tracked a passenger who had been kidnapped from a marketplace on the Amazon River and the ship’s security team managed to retrieve her within a couple of hours. Jack and I thought, given the BDSM nature of the hotel, that some added security was in order. So, yes, we will know exactly where she is anywhere in the world as long as she is wearing the bracelet.”
“Should I try to follow her, or what? Maybe call her cell?”
“Call her and ask where she is. Say you went back up to the suite and she wasn’t there. Don’t remind her about the GPS bracelet. We don’t want her to take it off.”
Dillon picked up his phone and dialed number one. “Mikki, baby. I’m up in the suite and you’re not here. Where are you?”
“Dillon, don’t be mad, but I’m going to go away for a little while. I texted the blackmailer back and told him that I need more time to get the money together—that it’s all tied up in trusts. Hopefully, that will give the Court people time to figure this out. In the meantime, I don’t want to be where you are in case they decide to post the video anyway.”
“Mikaela, I want you to come back. We’ll face this together.”
“No, Dillon. I can’t let this ugliness bleed over on to you. I’ll come back when it’s all cleared up, or after the election—whichever is first. I love you, baby. Don’t try to find me. This is for the best. Remember what we said the other day. We each have to call our own shots. This is mine. Please let me do this.”
“Mikki, I won’t try to find you as long as you stay in contact with me. Don’t shut off your cell. It could be dangerous for you out there.”
“I promise, Dilly. I love you.” She hung up the phone.
“Son of a bitch. That is one woman who is going to have a sore butt when I get my hands on her again.”
“Dillon, she might be right. If the shit does hit the fan, the press won’t be able to hound her to death. We’ll know where she is. Just don’t tip our hand and remind her about the GPS bracelet. Maybe you can work it into the conversation that you are wearing yours, and you hope she is wearing hers, that they connect you. I don’t know. That woman stuff is a mystery to me, but that might guarantee that she doesn’t take it off.”
“I’ll see what I can do to say something without sounding stupid.” Dillon felt helpless and more than furious. Hadn’t he promised her they would work this out together? How could she do this to him? He knew she thought she was doing it for him, but that was just not okay. They were a team, and he wanted them to be a team permanently. After I blister her butt, that is.
* * * *
Maggie Sexton’s apartment in Brooklyn, New York, Tuesday late morning, December 29, 2015
Shit. The bitch needs a week? Maggie knew Mikaela had a shitload more than a measly five million dollars, and she wanted her share. And she wanted it now. What should she do? Should she respond or just keep silent? If she post
ed the video on Thursday night as threatened, she would have no more leverage. She would have shot her wad, and the game would be over, except that Mikaela, the bitch, would be in a world of hurt and so would her congressional candidate boyfriend. He surely wouldn’t take well to that situation.
What to do? Give her more time or not? If she didn’t give her more time and posted the video she would be out of options. If she gave her the time she still might get the money. She picked up the phone. One week bitch, January 5. That’s it or you’re going to be more famous than you ever thought possible. Send.
* * * *
Offices of Court Industries, New York City, Tuesday noon, December 29, 2015
When the phone on his desk rang, Morgan Court picked it up. It was John McGregor. “Boss, good news and bad news. The blackmailer responded to Mikaela Sexton’s text asking for more time and agreed to another week. We’ve managed to triangulate the signal, but we don’t have an exact location. The text was sent from Brooklyn, near the bridge.”
“Can you get any closer to the exact location than that?”
“Not yet, but one thing. The cousin, Maggie Sexton, lives in Brooklyn. From what we have been able to determine, she’s not in the same financial strata as Mikaela Sexton despite having the same last name and a degree from Columbia. She has a job in retail sales and lives in a third-floor apartment. That might point to a disgruntled family member with an axe to grind.”
“Put some surveillance on her, John. I want to know what our girl, Maggie, is up to. I’ll call the guys in Florida.”
“Will do, and we are going to try to hack her computer as well. I’d like to know if that video is on there. I may need to send someone into her apartment. Do you want me to go ahead with that?”
“Go ahead. Just tell them not to get caught.” He laughed. “Or the director will disavow any knowledge…Keep me posted.”
Morgan thought for a moment before he dialed The Black Dahlia Hotel’s admin offices. When he’d been put through to Dane Dunross’s office and been advised that Dillon Cavanaugh and Jamie Devereau were there, he said, “Put me on speaker, Dane.” When he heard the click, he said, “Guys, here’s what we’ve got so far.” He filled them in. “John’s going to try to get into her apartment and also hack her computer. Of course we have to wait for her to leave the apartment. She works the four-to-closing shift at Macy’s, so I don’t know when she will be going out again.”
Dillon said, “Thanks, Morgan. I’ll ask Mikki what she thinks of the possibility that her cousin is involved. Unfortunately, she’s taken off under the misguided idea that she’s protecting me.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Thanks to Jamie’s famous rubber GPS bracelet we can track her.”
“Ah, yes. The infamous rubber bracelets. Keep us advised when you know where she ends up.”
“Will do. And thanks. I’ll owe you big.”
“Nah. What goes around comes around. Talk to you when I know something.”
* * * *
Orlando International Airport, Orlando, Florida, Tuesday afternoon, December 29, 2015
Mikaela was sitting in the VIP lounge waiting for a standby flight to Chicago. She was beginning to regret her decision to break the trip up into shorter legs. It would be nice to be on a first class, nonstop flight to San Francisco right now. Well, it could be worse. She could be sitting out on the concourse waiting.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she took it out. Dillon. He kept calling and asking her to come back to Fort Lauderdale. He seemed anxious, and he wanted to know where she was. She had refused to tell him her location. “Dillon, will you stop calling every two minutes. I’m fine. I told you I’ll call when I get where I’m going.”
“Baby, I miss you. Please come back.”
“I can’t. You know this is for the best right now. The blackmailer said he’d give me a week. Hopefully, Morgan Court can figure something out by then.”
“He has an idea, babe.” Dillon sounded tentative.
“What?” She knew her voice was shaking.
“They were able to get an approximate location of where the texts originated. They believe they were sent from somewhere near the Brooklyn Bridge. Doesn’t your cousin live in Brooklyn near the bridge?”
“Dillon. That is impossible. It couldn’t be Maggie. We haven’t seen much of each other lately except at the funeral last year, but I don’t think she could do something like this. And where would she get a naked sex video of me?”
“Court’s people are looking into it. I just wanted to get your take on the possibility.”
“I don’t think it’s possible, baby. I really don’t.”
Dillon seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Mikki, I really miss you.”
“I’ve been gone a little over three hours, Dillon. I have not gone to the moon.”
“I’d feel better if I knew where you were.” Again he hesitated. “I’m wearing my rubber bracelets, baby. They make me feel closer to you. Are you still wearing yours?”
She looked down at her right wrist. She’d forgotten all about the bracelets. “Yes. I have them on.”
“Please don’t take them off. They make me feel more connected. This situation and your taking off like that really have me spooked, Mikki.”
She shook her head. Men. They liked to pretend they were so in control. “If it will make you feel better, Dilly, okay. Now I have to go. I’ll call you tonight.”
* * * *
Dillon looked at Dane and Jamie. “I felt like a total fool. I’m some tough Dom. Next time I tell her I’m going to spank her butt she’ll laugh at me.”
“It’s the end result that counts, Dillon. She’ll forget all about that—especially when you’ve got her over your knee.” Jamie grinned.
“I’ll make sure she does.”
Dane said, “She’s in the Orlando airport. We won’t know her destination for a while. John McGregor has a watch out for her credit cards, but she hasn’t used them. Apparently she prepared for this possibility well in advance.”
“I hope she’s prepared for the possibility of not being able to sit down.”
Dane and Jamie just smiled at him. Shit. They didn’t believe it either.
* * * *
Aboard an American Airlines flight from Orlando International Airport, Orlando, Florida, to O’Hare International Airport, Chicago, Illinois, Tuesday late afternoon, December 29, 2015
Mikaela relaxed back in the first-class seat for the flight to Chicago, where she would stay over until the next day and then catch a flight to San Francisco. So far her plan was working well. She had not had to use any credit cards. It had killed her not to be able to apply any of her frequent flyer miles for the tickets, but it couldn’t be helped. She sipped the glass of chilled white wine and picked up the inflight magazine from the pocket on the seatback in front of her.
When she looked up, a tall, well-built, dark-haired man was putting a briefcase in the overhead bin. She couldn’t see his face. His arm was in the way. Oh, the scent of that aftershave was delicious…and familiar. What the hell? She’d had that scent custom blended for Dillon last Christmas, and he’d loved it. She looked again as the man closed the door to the overhead bin, turned, and sat down in the seat next to her. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Dillon. “What are you doing here?” she squeaked. She knew she was in trouble now. How had he found her so quickly? Why couldn’t he just let her do this for him? “How did you get here so quickly?”
“I can’t tell you all of my secrets, pretty lady.” He frowned his most intimidating Dom frown. “You didn’t think I would leave you to handle this on your own, did you? It could get dangerous if the blackmailer feels thwarted. We don’t know the reason behind this, although we have our suspicions.”
“Dillon. You are ruining everything. Please get back off this plane and return to Fort Lauderdale.”
“Not going to happen, Mikki, so give it up. Where you go, I go. Unless we both agree otherwise. For your
information, Morgan Court has his people checking out Maggie Sexton. It looks like she is a very viable suspect.”
“I can’t believe that, but we’ll see what they come up with, if anything.” She looked at him. He looked tired and worried, and she knew she had put a lot of that worry on his face. She felt bad about that, but really she was doing all of this for him, trying to save his election campaign and his relationship with his parents. “Dill, I’m serious. I have asked you to please leave now and go back to Fort Lauderdale. After the holidays you have to get back on the campaign trail. You can’t afford to be following me around while I dodge paparazzi and the noxious press.”
“And I have told you. Not an option. I called my father and told him we had some issues to work out and that I was taking another week or two off.”
“I bet he loved that. He didn’t even want you to come to Florida for Jack’s wedding.”
“He was not happy. I’m sure I’ll hear more about it from him before this is over.”
“Baby, please?”
“No. I know you have issues about my family. I understand how much losing yours affected you. But it is not the same thing, Mikki. If my dad and I have a knock-down-and-drag-out fight about this, he’ll be as pissed off as a wet hen for a few days, and then it will be as if nothing had happened. He loves Devin and me. He’s not about to throw away his sons over any disagreement, no matter how serious. Not to say he won’t do his damnedest to get his own way.” He laughed. “And besides, Mom will cut him off if he goes too far. No cigars, no desserts, no nookie. The man would be in hell. Once she threw a brand new box of Cuban cigars in the fireplace—and there was a real good fire in there at the time.”
Michaels, Skye - Mikaela's Debut [The Black Dahlia Hotel 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 6
