Broken

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Liquid X and Ecstasy,” the doctor said, smoothly withdrawing blood after using a rubber tourniquet. “I’ll have Donald check for those as well as a few other drugs that could’ve been slipped in your drinks.”

  Had they finished their drinks? Dana couldn’t remember exactly, but she didn’t think so. “Long-term effects?”

  “You’re coherent, and this was a one-time thing, so I’m not concerned about long-term. However, you should consider making a police report.”

  “We’ll handle it,” Wolfe said.

  Dana winced as the doctor settled a Band-Aid over her vein. Handle it? What in the world did that mean? She stared at Wolfe, but he wouldn’t look at her. The doctor finished with her and turned to Wolfe. “Was there, ah, sexual activity?” he asked.

  “Why?” Wolfe growled.

  “Because MDMA would possibly make you tired or lethargic, so I’d rule it out except for the jaw tightness. GBD can cause sexual arousal, which would make sense if you so engaged.” The doctor drew the tourniquet around Wolfe’s arm. “Also, as your doctor, I’d have to recommend STD testing.”

  “We’re both clean,” Wolfe said, his words clipped and his jaw rock hard.

  Dana remained quiet.

  The doctor turned to her. “I can get you a morning-after pill, if you’d like.”

  She blinked. “No. Thanks, though.”

  Wolfe just watched her, no expression on his face.

  Dana turned back to the pages in front of her, wanting to make the men in the room disappear. She turned the page and found more hieroglyphics.

  Jethro sat up. “What’s all this?”

  “My friend, who’s missing, used a code when she worked on sensitive articles,” Dana murmured. “I can’t decipher it.”

  Jethro rubbed his whiskered chin, leaning over to look. “Fascinating.”

  Dana lifted her head. “Are you any good with codes?”

  He frowned and pulled the notebook closer. “Not really. I’m more of a philosophical interpreter of data, if you know what I mean.”

  She didn’t, but with his British accent, it sounded intriguing.

  Angus drew out a vacant chair and sat. “I know a code breaker. Well, she’s a lot more than a code breaker, but she consulted with us on a couple of cases when I worked for the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit. I could give her a call, if you like. What’s this about?”

  Dana pressed her lips together. Thank goodness they were talking about work again and not drugs or sex. “This is about my friend Candy Folks.”

  “The journalist who disappeared?” Angus asked, looking toward Wolfe. “This is the case you’ve been handling on your own?”

  “It’s my story,” Dana said before Wolfe could answer.

  Angus leaned over and scratched Roscoe between the ears. “What’s your case about, Wolfe? I’m done with being left out of it.”

  Dana’s eyebrows rose, and she turned toward Wolfe. Would he let the unit help him find Rock at this point?

  Wolfe looked at her, then at the doctor, and then at Angus. “Considering how things have changed, I’ll think about it. First, we have a visit to make.”

  “Visit?” Dana sat up.

  “Yeah. You with me, Force?” Wolfe asked.

  Angus studied him and then slowly nodded. “If that’s how you want to go about it, I’m with you.”

  Dana’s breath caught. “What things have changed?”

  Wolfe’s gaze held a look she couldn’t decipher. “Everything has changed. We’ll discuss it later.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Moonlight beamed down, highlighting the homes of the rich and super rich, although clouds were starting to gather and reduce its power. A sense of tension filled the air as the storm drew near.

  Wolfe leaned against the side of a tree adjacent to Trentington’s mansion, his gun tucked safely at his waist and his knife at his boot, waiting for the British man to disengage the alarm. “You sure you trust this guy?”

  Force nodded. “Yeah. He won’t be as quick as Brigid, but he’ll get the job done.”

  Jethro whistled from the darkness.

  “Alarm deactivated,” Force said. “This is your op.”

  Yeah, it definitely was his op. Wolfe circled the tree and strode down the imported stone driveway to the front door, picking the lock and then twisting the knob. It opened easily, and the night remained silent. Okay. The British dude did know his alarm systems. The guy jogged around the area by the garage, his movements economical.

  “Thanks, professor,” Force drawled.

  Jethro crouched by a hydrangea bush. “Last time, Force. I left this life behind me.”

  Wolfe slipped inside the entryway and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Moonlight streamed in through gauzy curtains, caressing a white leather sofa with matching chairs near the fireplace. The room smelled like a fresh breeze off the ocean. The cleaning crew had done a good job.

  He motioned for Force to take the upstairs and Jethro to head downstairs. Then he silently strode down the hallway, past the office, and right through the double doors to what had to be the master bedroom.

  Trentington slept on his stomach, one arm flung out, next to a lush blonde.

  Wolfe crept toward him, taking out his gun and pressing the barrel to Trentington’s forehead. He’d rather use a knife, but he had to get the man out of there without awakening the woman. He pressed harder.

  Trentington jumped, and his eyes opened. Wide.

  Wolfe gestured for him to get out of the bed, and he did so, barely moving the comforter. Maybe the man cared about the woman next to him. They walked out of the room, and Wolfe shut the door. “Office,” he whispered.

  Trentington, dressed only in gray boxer briefs with a hole in the left butt cheek, walked silently into his office and waited until Wolfe had shut the door. “Your membership is hereby revoked, jackass.” He moved to one of the chairs in the cigar area near another stone fireplace.

  Wolfe tucked his gun back into place and reached down for his knife. “You might want to lose the attitude. I’m pretty pissed right now.”

  “I can see that.” While Trentington’s arms and hairy chest were muscled, his gut had started going to fat. “Problem?”

  “Yeah. My champagne was spiked last night, as was the drink of my guest. You have three seconds to tell me how that happened before I start cutting pieces off you.” Wolfe twirled the knife and made sure it caught the light.

  “Drugged?” Trentington’s eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” Every instinct in Wolfe yelled that the guy was lying. “I’m gonna have to hurt you, aren’t I?”

  The door opened, and Force entered, followed by Jethro.

  “I don’t need witnesses for this,” Wolfe muttered. He lowered his chin, letting his anger finally take over. “You made sure we toasted with you, and you made sure we had champagne.” His memory was too fuzzy to remember the face of the woman who’d poured his glass. He’d been off balance from kissing Dana right before that, and he hadn’t paid attention. “You knew we’d be dosed.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I had no idea,” Trentington said, his eyes spitting.

  Wolfe looked over his shoulder at Force. “I think he’s lying.”

  Force nodded. “Yeah, that’s my take. How about you, J?”

  Jethro leaned back against the door. “I might have a degree or two in micro-expressions, and he’s definitely lying to you. He’s also scared and doing a marvelous job of hiding it.”

  Yeah, Wolfe had already clocked that. “Maybe I should ask the blonde if she poured the booze for me.”

  Trentington’s eyes widened and then relaxed. “You may be good with a knife, but even I can read that you wouldn’t harm an innocent woman.”

  “If she dosed my drink, she ain’t innocent,” Wolfe returned, his grip steady on the knife. “You’re right, though. I want to hurt somebody bad right now, and I’ll sleep better if it’s you and not her.”
/>   “Me too,” Trentington said.

  “Okay.” Wolfe moved for him.

  Trentington lifted a hand. “Wait.” He sighed. “Fine. An associate, not a close friend, asked me to make sure you and your date were there to share in the toast. I figured he wanted a look at you, not that you’d be drugged. I truly had no idea about the drugs.”

  “Name?” Wolfe asked, not backing away.

  “I can’t tell you.” Trentington leaned back in the chair, away from the knife.

  “Did he mention me or my date or both?” Wolfe had to know who the target was, damn it.

  “Both.” Trentington jumped up.

  Wolfe swatted him back down with one hand at the neck. He squeezed. “There were bruises on my date this morning, and I’d like to return the favor to you.” He squeezed harder.

  Trentington’s eyes bugged out, and his face turned red. He clawed at Wolfe’s hold.

  Jethro cleared his throat. “He can’t talk if you kill him, mate.”

  Wolfe lightened his grip a fraction. “Name,” he bit out.

  “Frank Spanek,” Trentington gasped out, his eyes filling with tears. “He’s been a member of Captive for years.”

  “Was he friends with Albert Nelson?” Wolfe snarled.

  Trentington coughed. “Um, I think so. In fact, I believe Spanek sponsored Nelson a decade or so ago. I’d forgotten all about it,” he rushed to add.

  Wolfe released him. That was almost too easy, and he hadn’t gotten to hit the idiot. “Do you know Candy Folks?”

  Trentington frowned. “The journalist who has gone missing? Why would I know her?”

  “Do you know her or not?” Wolfe twirled the knife again.

  “No. Never met her.”

  He still couldn’t figure out if they’d been drugged because of Dana’s story or his hunt for Rock. The anger inside Wolfe hadn’t abated. Even if Gary Rockcliff had started playing games and drugged him, there was no way he’d revealed himself to Trentington, so asking the question with Force standing behind him would be a useless move. “Who was the woman who poured my drink last night?” He still couldn’t get a bead on her face. Why would Spanek and the woman want him drugged? Or was it Dana they’d wanted?

  “I don’t know. She was Spanek’s guest, but she had a mask on.” Trentington glared. “Now get out.”

  “Oh, I will, after you print me out a list of your members. The real list with phone numbers and addresses. Then I want a list of anyone who attended or worked the party last night.” Wolfe leaned in, letting his fury show. Thunder bellowed outside in tune with his mood. “Please say no.”

  * * *

  Dana tried another algorithm on Candy’s notes. This one she’d found on the Internet, and it had been somewhat helpful. So far, she’d partially deciphered a list of female CEOs who also ran nonprofits and were key to Candy’s story. The first was Margaret Jones, who ran a makeup empire and donated to cancer causes. She was out of the country for the next three months. The second woman was Phyllis Donald, who was a real estate mogul who donated to causes that benefited the elderly, and she was busy for the next two weeks. The final lead was to Theresa Rhodes, who was the CEO of a sporting goods company that spent tons of money on female start-ups. Dana called to set up an appointment with her and discovered the woman was out of town on sabbatical for the rest of the month.

  Apparently the rich and very rich didn’t spend much time in the office. There was probably a lesson to be learned there.

  She sat on Wolfe’s sofa with the kitten next to her and the dog at her feet. Roscoe chased something in dreamland, kicking and snorting every once in a while and completely ignoring the summer storm going on outside.

  Rain slashed against the windows, and thunder rolled high and loud.

  She couldn’t sleep, and she didn’t want to go back to Wolfe’s bed. Everything had just gotten too weird. She glanced at her phone and almost picked it up, but it was after midnight, and her mom would be asleep. Plus, what would she say? That she’d gone to a BDSM sex party with a friend, had gotten drugged, and then had had unprotected sex with the hot ex-soldier she’d been crushing on and had already had safe sex with?

  The phone could stay in place.

  Then it buzzed, and she leaned to read the face. Enough already. She clicked on the speaker. “Mike? Stop calling me.” Then she ended the call and turned off the phone. He had to knock it off.

  Grumbling, she stood and walked into the office to stare at the whiteboard. She took a picture of Candy out of the file folder she’d set up and placed it on the board, drawing a line to Albert Nelson. Several lines cascaded out from him to different sources. She and Wolfe might as well work together since they shared Albert as a person of interest, even though their cases went in completely different directions.

  The front door opened, and she stiffened.

  It closed, and heavy footsteps sounded before Wolfe stood in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

  “Connecting Candy to Albert,” she said, wanting to shuffle her feet. “What did you find out?”

  “Guy named Frank Spanek had us drugged.”

  She frowned, running the name around in her head. “Never heard of him. Why did he drug us?”

  Wolfe lifted one powerful shoulder. “That’s the question I’m going to ask him the second I find him. I already called Brigid and asked her to do a deep dive, even though she’s kind of on vacation.” Something buzzed, and he drew his phone out of his back pocket. “The doc has answers and wants to know if we’re awake.”

  Ha. Like she could sleep. “Call him.”

  Wolfe pressed a button and then set the phone on the desk.

  “Howdy. Figured you wouldn’t be sleeping,” the doctor said, his tone cheerful.

  “Well?” Wolfe asked.

  Papers rustled over the line. “I found a combination of MDMA, GHB, and ketamine in both of your systems,” the doctor said thoughtfully.

  Dana’s knees weakened, and she leaned against the wall. “What is all of that?”

  “Ecstasy, Liquid X, and Special K are the street names.” The doctor’s voice came over the line tinny.

  Wait a minute. Dana’s head ached, but she focused in. “Aren’t a couple of those date-rape drugs?”

  “Can be,” the doctor affirmed.

  “I thought those drugs made people calm and lethargic,” she said, trying to remember what she’d read about them.

  “They can, or they can have other effects such as euphoria and sexual arousal,” the doctor said. “They combine differently in different people, and the two of you are lucky to be breathing.”

  Tension cascaded through the room, coming off the man staring at the phone three feet away from her. “Then we can assume the purpose was to kill one or both of us?”

  “Maybe. Or the purpose was to kidnap one or both of you,” the doctor said. “It’s hard to tell, to be honest. Neither of you can remember if you only had a few sips or if you drank your entire glass down.” More papers shuffled. “Since you reacted by leaving the party, perhaps the person who drugged you didn’t get a chance to grab you.”

  “Or they wanted us dead,” Wolfe said, his voice gritty.

  “That could very well be the case,” the doctor agreed. “I think you should file a police report.”

  Wolfe shook his head, finally looking at Dana. His topaz eyes had darkened to glittering fury. “No. We need to keep this under wraps.”

  “That is your decision, but I want to recheck your blood in a week,” the doctor said.

  “Fine,” Wolfe said. “Since we ingested the drugs, there are no other concerns, right?”

  The doctor sighed. “Right. Well, except for the unprotected sex. I don’t need to tell you—”

  Wolfe cut off the call.

  Dana ran her hands through her now blond hair, pulling near her scalp. “We’re both clean, so stop worrying.”

  “That’s not what I’m worrying about.” Wolfe tucked the phone away.

  She shook
her head. “Don’t borrow trouble.” She wouldn’t even go there in her mind.

  “When will we know?”

  Man, she missed the fun-loving, goofy Wolfe. This guy was too serious, too intense. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “Dana.”

  “Fine. In two weeks, but I’m not worried about it.” She turned and strode into the living room, stopping at the sight of the sleeping dog. “Force didn’t take Roscoe?”

  “No. Roscoe stays with you until I find this guy.” Wolfe turned off the office light and shut the door. “Things have changed. We’re in this together, and Roscoe is part of that.”

  Lightning flashed outside and she jumped. Then she turned to face him, her head hurting more. “You’re being crazy.”

  The muscle beneath his jaw visibly ticked. “This guy used me to hurt you, and that changes things.”

  Sometimes she couldn’t follow his logic. “Hurt me?”

  “Yeah. Having drugged sex that you can barely remember definitely hurts you.” Wolfe growled the last words.

  “Then somebody used me to hurt you, too,” she countered, her chin lifting. “Frankly, since it was you, I’m not all that hurt. Sure, I’m mad somebody did that, and we’ll make them pay. But I trust you, and none of this is your fault.” He seemed so far away.

  “Yeah, it is my fault, and I’m going to fix it. Until I do, if I’m not with you, then Roscoe is, and Mal will watch from his place.” Wolfe’s face showed no give. None. His shoulders went back. “For now, why don’t you get some sleep? You can have the bedroom. I’m going to get some work done, and we can talk more tomorrow.” He moved past her, went back into the office, and shut the door.

  Anger roared through her, followed by exhaustion. Sleep was a good idea, but no way could she do it. Maybe Wolfe would stop being so angry in the morning. She retook her seat on the sofa and grabbed up Candy’s notes. If she couldn’t crack Wolfe’s hard head, maybe she could crack this code.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wolfe couldn’t think and he couldn’t breathe. He’d been in his home office for an hour, and his mind wouldn’t work. Grimacing, he left the office and stopped cold.