Stolen (Lucy Kincaid Novels)

by Allison Brennan

  “Shh, Lucy, it’s Sean. I’m going to untie you.”

  “Sean?” Her voice was scarcely a whisper; he felt his name against his cheek more than heard it. She gasped. “My head.”

  “I think they tranquilized you.”

  It took Sean several minutes to untie Lucy; then he held her shaking body in his arms. “You’re so cold.”

  “They broke into your house.” She burrowed into him, her teeth chattering. Her feet and hands were like ice.

  Sean would kill Kurt LeGrand.

  He told her everything he knew while he held her as close to him as possible.

  When he was done, Lucy said, “Sean, I’m so sorry about Colton. And Duke—but there’s a chance he made it, right?”

  Sean didn’t believe it. “As long as I don’t lose you. Lucy, I can’t lose you. I’m so sorry.”

  “This isn’t your fault. Don’t even think it. Skye set you up. Kurt LeGrand wants revenge because of Martin Holdings.”

  “Did I tell you that?” He didn’t think so.

  “I figured it out last night. Rick and Noah know. They’re on top of it. And last I heard, Jack was flying into New York because Duke’s missing.”

  “I didn’t even think of the security problem Duke’s disappearance would cause.”

  “Let’s figure out what we’re going to do. We have time—they can’t break into the evidence warehouse until tonight.” She hesitated, then said, “Is this something you can do?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “It won’t be easy. And they’re not going to tell me what they want until game time. It’s money, but I can’t imagine the FBI would leave millions of dollars lying around. And I wouldn’t be able to transport it alone.”

  “It’s not money,” Lucy said. “LeGrand and Skye worked for a mortgage brokerage that padded mortgages with additional fees and insurance. They found out about it, siphoned off the illegal money, then LeGrand turned state’s evidence and became a whistle-blower. The FBI believes between six and ten million is missing, but they don’t know where it is or how it disappeared.”

  “I get it, it’s a code or password—”

  “Or account numbers. Something that they could have hidden in plain sight that no one would recognize.”

  “Why didn’t they take it with them before the FBI came in?”

  “Maybe they didn’t realize that everything is boxed up for processing.”

  “Or they couldn’t get to it,” Sean mused out loud.

  “How many are there?”

  “I saw four at PBM, plus LeGrand. One other guy, I think.”

  “Four were in D.C., but I think they were hired just to get me. One is dead.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sean repeated. He kissed her forehead. “I know it’s not all my fault, but you should have been safe at my house. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t trust Evan, but I had no idea Skye was spearheading this. I should never have gone to PBM.”

  “Why did they move it up a day?”

  “After Hunter was killed, Colton panicked. He wanted it over. Then Skye shot him in cold blood. Like they hadn’t been friends for twelve years.”

  Lucy had her hands on Sean’s cheeks. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her, taste her; she was here, and she was alive.

  “I’m going to get you out of this,” he said, his voice cracking.

  “We’re going to get out of this.”

  “One more thing—they stole some sort of bio-toxin from the lab. I got a glimpse; it’s a liquid. Maybe a liter.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The truck slowed down and the quality of the light and road changed. “We’re in a tunnel,” Lucy said.

  “Going into Manhattan. One of the guys mentioned a warehouse. They can probably drive right in.”

  “Brooklyn. They’ll want to be close to the evidence warehouse.” Lucy kissed him. “Sean, they’re going to kill you when you’re through. You can’t give them what they want.”

  “I’m more concerned about you. He wants to make me suffer. God, Lucy, if anything—”

  “Shh. I know. But I’m alive. We’re going to figure this out. And don’t forget, Noah and Jack and Rick are all looking for us. They know about the evidence warehouse.”

  “But you’re their leverage. I don’t think LeGrand thought Duke was strong enough leverage for me to do this—but you are. If Noah stops me, they’ll kill you. I have to get it for them.”

  “We’ll figure this out.”

  “I love you, Lucy. I’m not going to let you die.”

  He felt her staring at him, though he could only make out shadows. He held her close, needing to be in direct contact with her.

  “We’re not going to die,” she said. “Neither of us. We’ll find a way out.”

  “First chance you get, run.”

  “I’m not leaving you behind.”

  “Lucy, I can get out of anything if I know you’re safe.”

  “You’re not immortal.”

  “Luce—”

  “We’re in this together.”

  “It’s my fault we’re in this at all.”

  “Stop it,” she said, her hands squeezing his arms. “I don’t care how we got here, this isn’t your fault. No one could have known that they’d go after me. No one even knew who Kurt LeGrand was until you found the security picture in Hunter’s phone.”

  “I’m just—” His fists clenched and unclenched.

  “I understand.” She kissed him warmly.

  The truck slowed down and spent several minutes in stop-and-go traffic before it stopped and idled for a minute. A metal door rolled up, the truck drove in, then the ignition cut off, and the door was closed.

  No one came to let them out for several minutes. Voices echoed in the building, but Sean couldn’t understand what they were saying. There was outside traffic, but it was distant, like they were off a quiet street.

  “I have an idea,” Sean whispered. “I need to get to a phone so I can send a message to Noah. If he has the number, he can trace the GPS signal.”

  “Skye is smart enough to keep you away from any electronics.”

  “I’ll find a way. I don’t even need a phone. A computer, an iPod, anything that has wireless functionality.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “Lucy—just do what they say. Once I get the evidence, they have no reason to keep either of us alive.”

  “I know.

  The back of the truck opened and the cover folded up. Sean blinked against the sudden brightness. Two large men stood there, each with a gun. “Get out,” one said, motioning at Sean with his weapon. “One at a time, Rogan first.”

  Sean slid out. He looked back at Lucy and saw the large bruise on her cheek and blood on her shirt and the side of her head. Most of her hair had fallen out of her braid, and she looked both scared and defiant.

  He looked at the two goons. “Who hit her?” He noticed that one of the men had a bandage around his arm. “I’ll kill you.”

  The man scowled and said, “Turn around.”

  Sean complied, only because two guns were pointed at him and these weren’t the only two men in the warehouse. In the corner LeGrand and Skye spoke quietly, and the rest of the goon squad were standing near the front of the truck. Four hired guns, plus Evan, Skye, and LeGrand. Seven against two. Sean definitely didn’t like the odds.

  Sean was handcuffed, not tied with rope this time, then prodded over to where Skye and LeGrand were looking at blueprints.

  The warehouse they were in was narrow, with an office up a rickety flight of stairs. Sean glanced over his shoulder as Lucy crawled out of the truck. Her legs gave out as she tried to stand and the goon caught her arm and jerked her up. He then walked her up the stairs to the office.

  “Where are you taking her?” Sean demanded.

  LeGrand said, “Safekeeping.”

  Sean stared at the bastard who orchestrated this scheme. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” />
  “Your threats are tiresome. Her survival depends solely on you.” He motioned to the blueprints. “This is the warehouse you’re breaking into.” He picked up a binder. “These are the computer and security systems. You find a way in, find the file I need, and a way out without being caught, and Lucy lives.”

  Sean stared at the documents without seeing anything. He had to get his temper in check; he had to be smart about this. He breathed deeply. “I said I’d do it.”

  * * *

  Rick Stockton listened to Noah’s report on what they’d found at the farmhouse outside of White Plains. They’d found Duke Rogan alive. They were leaving one small SWAT team at the house to protect the evidence response unit, and Noah and Jack were heading back on the chopper.

  “Was there anything in the house that gives us an idea of where they took Sean and Lucy?”

  “Negative,” Noah said. “If they had documents, they took them with them. No computers, either. However, I have a team out canvassing the area. We know they were driving two trucks or one truck and a van. We’re also looking for security footage near the on-ramps because we know they’re heading back to the city.”

  “Get back quickly so we can plan what to do if we don’t find them before the break-in.”

  “Yes, sir.” Noah hung up.

  Stockton’s phone beeped. It was Dorothy Conner, his analyst. “Agent Madeaux and I are at the evidence warehouse and we think we found what they want.”

  “Bring it in.”

  “Mr. Stockton?” Agent Madeaux said. “Um, excuse me, but if it’s not here when Sean breaks in, wouldn’t that put him in danger?”

  “If we can’t find him, we’ll think of something. But I can’t let ten million dollars fall into the hands of a killer with a deadly toxin.”

  “Yes, sir. On our way.”

  “Come up with a plan and convince me it’ll work.” He hung up and rubbed his head.

  Ultimately, he was responsible for this operation. He’d authorized Noah Armstrong to investigate Senator Paxton. He’d authorized a civilian to go undercover. The weight of the operation had taken its toll.

  He’d served in the Marines for nine years. ROTC in college and five years out of college—the standard four-year commitment, plus he signed on for an additional year because he believed in his mission. He’d faced death; he’d lost friends; he’d killed the enemy. It was more than a job, it had been his life for a long time.

  His people in the FBI were his fellow soldiers. He was their leader, and when any of them were in trouble he took it as an attack on his unit. They knew the risks, but that didn’t make losses any easier.

  He watched the security tape from Sean’s house for the third time. Sean definitely had a state-of-the-art system. If Lucy had been expecting trouble, she could have turned on external sensors that would have warned her if anyone crossed the property line. But no one expected that she wouldn’t be safe in D.C.

  Rick watched as Lucy first tried to leave through the back, saw men at the door, and ran upstairs. She looked in two specific places for a weapon—the guns Sean probably took with him to New York—and in the third place found the 9mm. For a brief moment she aimed it at the bedroom door, panic etched in every line of her face. But she beat it back and locked herself in the bathroom, buying time; it had been her only option.

  Rick went back over the tape again, looking for any sign to identify the attackers, but they’d kept their masks on the entire time.

  He went back to the tapes from the FBI building. They’d tracked the van used to kidnap Lucy because it had been caught on FBI surveillance. The attackers must have followed Dorothy and Lucy to Sean’s house. The van was the same van recovered in Baltimore. Smart to have a second car waiting.

  Then he saw it.

  Replaying the film from outside the Hoover Building, he noticed a man getting in on the opposite side of the van from the camera. Rick couldn’t make him out from this angle, but there was a security camera on the other side of the street. He called headquarters and asked security to pull the recording and get an ID on the kidnapper.

  It was a long shot, but if they could identify the players they might be able to track them through purchases or known associates.

  The agent Rick had been assigned while here in New York, veteran agent Maurice Fong, came into the office. “Sir, Ms. Bonner’s attorney just delivered the antidote to the mycotoxin. Homeland Security is holding for you on the second line. Agent Madeaux and Ms. Conner are waiting in the conference room when you’re done.”

  “Thank you. Meet me in there.”

  Rick dealt with the Homeland Security agent and assured him that there was no known terrorist group planning to use the toxin. He had already sent the specs that Bonner had provided, and Homeland Security was all over the PBM lab right now. But Rick took the heat, because he was in charge.

  The more Rick thought about it, the more he wondered if the toxin was a smoke screen, something to divert their attention. There were very well-established protocols when dealing with a potential domestic terrorist. Either that or LeGrand had a specific target.

  Once Rick got Homeland Security settled, he went to the conference room.

  “Show me what you found.”

  Dorothy said, “I won’t go into all the reasoning, but there were more than thirty boxes of evidence. We realized pretty quick that whatever they wanted was account numbers, and that they couldn’t be obvious. We found this.”

  She slid over a small, pink address book.

  “An address book.”

  “It’s coded,” Dorothy said. “Not obvious at first, but each entry has an address that doesn’t exist and the combination of the street address and zip code is what we believe makes up an account number. We haven’t quite figured out where the accounts are, because so far none of the combinations match up with known offshore or domestic accounts. I want to take it to our banking experts.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Sir,” Suzanne said, “I think we have a plan that’ll work if we can’t find them before the break-in.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “We make a forgery of this data and transpose the numbers, then put it back. I talked to a friend of mine at the lab and he can get it done.”

  Rick said, “What about the book itself? It’s going to be hard to find one just like it on short notice.”

  Suzanne reached into her pocket and pulled out an identical book.

  “You’re a magician,” he said.

  “No, I just shop at the same cosmetic counter as Skye Jansen. This was a free gift three years ago if you spent fifty dollars on their Spring Collection.”

  Rick almost smirked. “Fifty dollars?”

  “Make-up is expensive,” she mumbled. “If we can get this done and put it back before tonight, then we can stake out the building and follow Sean back to LeGrand.”

  “What if Sean’s caught?” Rick asked.

  “He won’t be,” Suzanne said.

  “You’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, that Rogan doesn’t fail.”

  “No, just that he won’t fail at this. Not when Lucy’s life is at stake, and you know that’s why they took her. And we can help ensure his success.”

  Rick conceded the point. “If he gets in and retrieves the book, then we follow him.” Rick let the scenario settle. It could work. It had to work.

  “Exactly. We have surprise to our advantage. They have no idea we know what they’re looking for, or that they’re even going to break into the evidence locker.”

  “Work out the details with Agent Armstrong when he returns. Dorothy, you take custody of the book and be responsible for the forgery. Have it back here in three hours.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Sean already had a plan to get in and out of the warehouse undetected. Because he didn’t care if RCK knew he’d broken in, the security panels were easy. The hard part would be avoiding the cameras and the guards. If they let him have a computer, he could do it, but they ri
ghtfully didn’t trust him. Skye was going to be his partner, controlling the cameras, which would be funny if it weren’t so damn serious.

  He already knew how to shortcut the project, get in and get out almost immediately. He simply took up all the time Skye and LeGrand had given him to come up with a plan, hoping that Noah could track them down.

  No one came.

  Sean hated bullies. He hated anyone who put themselves in the position of God with the belief that they alone had control over everyone else. Being forced to work with Kurt LeGrand to break into the FBI evidence warehouse was infuriating; that LeGrand would threaten those Sean loved the most cut him to the bone.

  Colton was dead. Duke was most likely dead. Lucy said to have hope, but Duke had been shackled inside that barn when they set it on fire. If he couldn’t get out, he’d most certainly be dead from smoke inhalation, even if the fire department got there fast.

  Sean couldn’t lose Lucy, too. He struggled with his anger and grief, trying to separate them so he could do the job and give Lucy a chance to survive.

  He had no idea what LeGrand planned to do with the bio-toxin. To poison water? What was it? How dangerous? Why? LeGrand was a financial con artist and a killer, but a terrorist? Sean didn’t get that feeling. LeGrand killed to advance to his next goal, not to make a political or social statement.

  “I’m ready,” Sean finally said, thirty minutes after he created his plan.

  Skye sauntered over and rubbed his shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She rolled her eyes and squeezed his biceps. “You’re in amazing shape, Sean. Even better than you were in college.”

  He shrugged her off. “When are we doing this?”

  “The staff leaves at five thirty; the guards change at six. We’ll wait until they get settled in.” She kissed his neck. “Of course, they have the best security system taxpayer money can buy.”

  Sean knew exactly what kind of equipment they had. Full, random camera coverage so intruders couldn’t time a theft. Laser alarms on doorways to critical areas. Electronic shut-outs if an intruder was spotted—both manual from the guard station and automatic if the system detected an anomaly.