by Kristi Lea
Noah was silent for a long moment. He wasn’t sure whether to throttle the man for assuming that Noah could be a safe haven for Jessica, or to kiss him. “Can I ask you a personal question, Tony?”
“I guess.”
“Why are you so protective of J—of her? Does she really pay you that well?”
With a shake of his massive head, Tony replied, “Nah. I mean I can’t complain about the pay. And the perks aren’t too bad either. But I guess I just like her. Sure she takes her clothes off and dances around, but when people need help, she’s there for them. Turns the other cheek, you know?”
Noah nodded. He knew. He knew how quiet she could be. How fiercely loyal she was to her late husband—even while admitting his faults, she had still loved the man. He remembered the touch of her fingers as she tended to his arm. Tended a man who she assumed was either kidnapping or arresting her. She had rescued her chief of security off the streets, donated anonymously to charities that would have thrown her money back in her face. She did it all with a beautiful smile on her face to hide the pain he knew she felt at every outrageous tidbit of gossip or innuendo that flew her way.
He knew that he didn’t deserve a woman half so perfect.
He also knew that if he didn’t do something, and soon, then he would never again have the chance.
“Tony, I need your help.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Grayson.”
Noah related the short version of the story so far—that he had helped Jessica try to leave the country. Then about the phone call this morning demanding a necklace that he didn’t have.
He could see the veins on Tony’s head pulsating by the end of the narrative. “I need you to get ahold of my partner, Cole, and give him the message. But don’t call his phone.”
“Why don’t I drive you down to the station?”
Noah shook his head. “Someone inside the FBI is working with these guys. My money is on Cutlass, my boss. The trouble is no one will believe me without proof. I have a reputation for not quite playing by the rules.”
“You? You’re one of the most up-tight law enforcement I’ve ever met.”
Tony’s sincerity was surprising. “You don’t know me. Plus Cutlass has been spreading stories about how my dad died. He was FBI also. He was working a case and went undercover, alone, without proper approval. Got shot. If I’m right, and Cutlass is involved in this, then this is the perfect setup to get me out of the way. Unstable agent, out without approval, gets himself into a dangerous situation and dies. I’m going to need backup, but I can’t make it look like I’m calling it in myself.”
“That is one hell of a tight spot. And I will find your partner, I promise. But you’re going to need more than backup to get out of this one,” said Tony slowly.
“Yeah, I’m going to need a miracle,” agreed Noah.
“Not a miracle. A diamond necklace.”
Noah gulped. “That’s the problem, yes.”
“I know where it is.”
Noah hadn’t mentioned the fake necklace that Jessica had retrieved from North Carolina. “It’s in London at a museum. I doubt they’d want me traipsing around the California desert with a priceless antique.”
“For a cracker jack agent, you can be pretty dense. Cutlass or whoever has our Jess wants the other diamonds. The copy.”
With a huff, Noah said, “Oh that necklace. The stolen one. Right. Do you happen to have it with you?”
“No, but it’s a short drive to Brandon Kingsbury’s house.”
Noah leaned back in the car, his breath gone in a whoosh. “Didn’t anyone question you?”
Tony shrugged “Sure. I don’t have it, I just have a guess about who does. But a guess isn’t evidence. Shall we see if I’m right?”
“Where? Who? Let’s call it in.”
“See, that’s the trouble. If the jewels are where I think they are, then the cops aren’t going to listen. Don’t you think I’ve tried that once?”
Noah pounded fists onto the fabric of the seats. “Are you suggesting we go in alone to recover stolen property? That would be stupid. Possibly illegal. Definitely dangerous. And there’s no way it would pass a review by internal affairs. Even if the necklace falls off the back of a truck with a hundred witnesses who swear that I didn’t do it, I’m not touching it.”
Tony turned and gave him a hard stare. “I know the kinds of people that Charles Kingsbury used to deal with. The kind that have our Jessica. If you think for a moment that you can waltz in empty-handed and live to see the S.W.A.T. team arrive, then you’re even denser than I thought.”
“And if I waltz in with the necklace in hand, they’ll just check my pockets before they feed my corpse to the sharks”
“True. So come in with proof that you have the necklace, and make them go hunt for it. That might buy you and Jessica enough time for your precious backup to arrive.”
Noah shook his head. “If they can convince a jury that I planted evidence on them, then the assholes will walk free.”
“Better that than letting them kill Jessica.”
Chapter 22
Brandon Kingsbury’s home was a faux Tudor estate with a sweeping view of one of the most exclusive golf courses in town. It wasn’t quite as large or impressive as Jessica’s Hollywood mansion, but it beat the hell out of Noah’s own bungalow.
Noah glanced at his watch. Over an hour had already ticked by as he gathered what supplies he thought he could use from home—a knife strapped to one leg, extra ammunition, the last of the pre-paid wireless phones that he’d bought on the road with Jessica and never used. He didn’t keep a bulletproof vest lying around just for the fun of it, but he took an old motorcycle jacket he’d had since college. It wasn’t bulletproof, but it was lightly armored to make a biker feel less like road kill-waiting-to-happen.
Noah raised one eyebrow as Tony punched in a code to the gate at the subdivision entrance. Tony quirked his half-smile and tapped his forehead. “Saw him use it once. Told you I’ve got a photographic memory.”
“I will try to remember that.” Noah made a mental note not to take Tony to any ATMs, just in case. On second thought, given the fine drape of the man’s suit jacket, Tony could probably buy and sell Noah.
How much did private security guards make per year anyway?
Brandon Kingsbury opened his own door, his polite smile melting to confusion and then anger as he recognized the two men on his doorstep. He wore khaki pants and a golf shirt on his aging but still athletic frame. His reddish-brown hair had artful-looking highlights too perfect to have been caused by the sun. Noah supposed the man would be considered handsome by many people. He looked a lot like the photos of Charles Kingsbury’s younger days that sat in Noah’s files.
“Tell me you are selling thin mints,” he drawled.
“I’m here for the necklace,” said Noah.
“Subtle, Grayson,” Tony’s voice carried a hint of warning.
“Come back with a warrant,” said Brandon as he made to close the door.
Tony shoved a booted foot into the door jamb. “Sorry to be rude, Mr. Kingsbury. We are in a bit of a hurry.”
“Look, Brandon,” said Noah. “There are two ways we can do this. You and I can sit right here on your front steps and wait for a search team to arrive. They will sort through every file, turn over every drawer, and peer behind every painting in your house looking for the necklace. A couple of photographers might come, too, just to watch the action. And when they find the diamonds, you will be hauled away in cuffs. I guarantee you that the paparazzi will be watching then. I’m sure that will do wonders for your career with the PGA. Don’t they have an ethics clause? Anyway, you will have to forfeit your entry into several of the tournaments coming up while this all gets sorted out in the courts.”
Noah watched as Brandon’s face faded from anger to a sneer.
“Or, you can quietly let us in, hand us the necklace, and we will be on about our way without any further ado.”
“Are yo
u threatening me?”
“No one is threatening anyone, Mr. Kingsbury,” said Tony mildly. “But my friend here does have a convincing argument.”
Brandon’s eyes flicked back and forth between Noah and Tony. His pupils were wide with fear, and his breath came in short puffs. “I don’t have it.”
Noah shrugged and reached into his pocket. Brandon backed away and Noah grinned as he withdrew his cell phone. “It’s not loaded, I swear. I’m just going to make a phone call.”
“To...to who?”
Noah hit the power button and began thumbing through his contact list. “Lieutenant Thompson of the LAPD. He is the one heading up the robbery investigation. Said he would appreciate any tips we could throw his way. I’d say the word of a FBI agent is enough probable cause for him to skip the search warrant, wouldn’t you?”
“Wait. Just wait one damned second before you go dialing anyone. What are you going to do with it if I give it to you? Without a warrant, or even proper procedure, it would be inadmissible in court. It would be useless.” Brandon sputtered.
Noah raised his eyebrows. “True. But I happen to know that it’s useless to you, too. You never cracked the code, did you? That’s why you went after the rest of Jessica’s estate. So you could search through your father’s belongings for the key.”
Brandon’s jaw dropped a half inch.
“We are out of time, Mr. Kingsbury. What’s it going to be?”
***
At least they were going to let her die clean. Jessica scrubbed the grime of her captivity off with a bar of cheap perfumed soap. Harry had presented it to her with a shy, sly smile that made her skin crawl. Earlin had untied her wrists and shoved a towel, a bottle of shampoo, and a toothbrush at her before sending her into a tiny bathroom tiled from top to bottom in sea foam green.
“Don’t bother trying any funny business, or I’ll send Harry in to help you out,” warned Earlin before shutting the door.
The air smelled vaguely like rotten eggs, and a ring of rust surrounded the drain to the matching green bathtub. Her stomach turned, way too empty for such a vile smell, and she fought down a wave of nausea.
She turned on the water and made as quick and quiet of an inventory of the place as she could. The sink was just a porcelain bowl bolted to the wall, without even a cabinet below it. Inside the tarnished mirrored medicine cabinet, she found only dust. Quietly she lifted the heavy lid of the toilet tank. Most of the parts were rusted from years of use, but she managed to loosen a screw that held the lever to the flushing mechanism and hid it in her towel.
Footsteps approached on the floor outside the door, and she undressed as fast as she could, barely getting under the spray when she felt the cold breeze of the door opening. She backed toward the far wall of the shower, clutching the shampoo bottle in one hand. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but soap in an eye might at least slow the intruder down.
“Hurry up in there, will you?” Earlin sounded annoyed.
Heart racing, Jess stuttered “Sorry.”
She heard fabric rustling and then the door closed leaving her in peace. She looked around the curtain. Her towel hadn’t been disturbed, but Earlin had removed her dirty clothes and left a plastic bag on the floor next to the toilet.
She scrubbed and shampooed, nose wrinkling at the soap even while she was grateful for it. She wished for a razor for her underarms, but her captors hadn’t been dumb enough to give her a blade. She also drank several gulps of water fresh from the faucet, and massaged parched lips and bruised wrists.
After staying the shower as long as she dared, she wrapped up in the towel and bent to open the bag that had been left. Inside she found one of the ugliest and trampiest outfits she had worn outside of some of her seedier photo shoots. She found a pair of thong underwear in a horrid pink leopard print, a pair of stretch leggings designed to look like jeans, a low-cut tank top that stretched thin over her breasts and provided no support, and a black lace loose-fitting shirt obviously meant to go over the tank top, and pair of flip flops. Still, everything was brand-new and clean. She threw on the clothes, tucked her one tiny weapon into the strap of the underwear on her hip where it would be covered by the hem of the shirt, then brushed her teeth.
She was still rubbing her head with her damp towel, trying to dry her short hair as much as possible when the door opened again. Harry whistled appreciatively, and Jessica flushed and crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for his eyes to finish cataloguing every inch of her.
“Come on, love, no need to be shy. You’re just as beautiful in person as you are in print.” He twirled a finger around in the air.
She glared.
His eyes narrowed and he took a threatening step forward. “Now, now, no need to play coy with me. Let me see what my money bought, mmm?”
“Cut it out, Harry. We’re leaving,” said Earlin from the hall.
Jess shrank back into the bathroom as Harry took two steps toward her and snatched her by the arm. His fingers bit into her flesh as he yanked her and pulled her up against the fleshy length of him. He towered over her, stinking of cigarette smoke. “Don’t be running away, you hear. I told you I’d take care of you.”
With a jerk, he spun her around and grabbed her other arm, jerking her shoulders painfully, then tied another plastic tie around her wrists. He pressed her forward until her chest was against the bathroom wall, the cool of the tile wall a scant inch from her cheeks. His hands traced up her bare arms and then down the small of her back.
Please, just let it end. Jess squeezed her eyes shut, as Harry’s hands roamed over her, down her hips, cupping her butt. His foul breath was hot on her ear, coming in short gasps as he grabbed her hips and pulled her up against him, shoving his crotch at her tied hands. She tried to struggle away, tried to ball her hands into fists to move them away from his erection.
“That’s right baby, come to papa.” His hips were grinding against her, and her struggling seemed to excite him more. His hands reached around her sides and down the front of her top to squeeze her nipples.
Jess opened her palm, grabbed his dick as hard as she could, and twisted.
Harry screamed and released her, and she scrambled away to the only open space: the still damp bathtub.
“Get back here, bitch.”
Jessica climbed out the far side of the tub, just escaping Harry’s outstretched arm. He caught her by the shirt, tearing it as she twisted away, trying her best to find traction. Her sandals were flimsy foam, now wet from the bottom of the tub, and she slipped on the hard floor and fell to her knees.
Harry was on top of her in a moment. He shoved her to her stomach, pounding her temple on the floor. Stars lit her vision and she tasted blood where her teeth bit into the inside of her cheek. She screamed and kicked up at him, but he outweighed her by double, and he pinned her easily. He shoved one knee between her legs and tugged at her pants.
The screw she had hidden there fell on the floor with a ping, and she grasped at it. Her fingers closed over the metal, warmed from her own body heat. She jabbed it as hard as she could into one of Harry’s hand. He screamed, a sound somewhere between pain and rage.
“You like it rough, little Jessica?” he hissed in her ear as he slammed her hand down on the tile floor and pried the screw out of her fingers.
A scuffling of feet and a metallic click barely registered as Jessica tried in vain to fight her would-be rapist.
“Damnit, Harry, I will shoot you dead right now if you don’t get your act together.” The voice was Earlin’s.
Harry stopped moving. Jess opened one eye and found she was staring at a pair of boots. Two more sets stood back on either side of him.
“I’m just collecting payment for the new clothes I bought her.” Harry’s voice was breathless, angry.
“Now’s not the time. Stand up real slow.”
Jess held her breath while Harry’s weight lifted off of her. She heard scuffling and protests as the men dragged him out of the room. Ea
rlin nudged her with one toe. “Stand up, let’s go.”
Jess let out her breath with a stuttering gasp. She tried to roll to one side and struggle to a sitting position. She saw stars again as she made it upright. Her face was wet with tears and she tried in vain to clean them off with the scratchy fabric on her shoulders because her hands were still bound behind her back.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he waved it off, withdrawing a long strip of fabric from his pocket. “Don’t bother. I ain’t doin’ you any favors.”
***
Noah rubbed at his arm while he scanned the incoming road for cars. This whole setup made him itch. Tony made him itch. He wanted to trust Tony, but most of all wanted Cole to arrive before he had to leave to face the kidnappers.
Kingsbury had opened one of those corny behind-the-painting safes that he thought only existed in movies. He wasn’t much of a jewel expert, but the necklace that Brandon produced from a felt-lined box looked like an exact copy of the one he and Cole had turned into the CIA.
Tony pocketed the necklace while Noah took his suggestion to bind his hands and feet to bed post in his room. “Don’t worry, I’ll send a friend back into untie him. Worst case, the maid finds him in the morning.”
They found Noah’s car where he’d left it by the club the night before, and drove to a point just outside town to call Cole.
Noah glanced at his watch again. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
“Five more minutes. Give him five more minutes.” The big guy looked just as uncomfortable as Noah felt.
It was less than two before Cole’s car turned into the convenience store lot where Noah and Tony waited, but it took another five to brief Cole on what was going down.
He shook his head. “No way, Grayson. I’m not letting you go in there without a bulletproof vest and a wire.”
“No time. I’m already late. Tony and I worked out the camera phone connection while we were waiting. We will have an open channel the whole time. Just get the team here.” He turned to leave.
