Getting Lucky

by Susan Andersen

  As soon as he determined this was indeed the master sergeant’s final destination, he planned to make a quick trip to the nearest town to outfit himself properly for the climate. It wouldn’t be long now before the opportunity arose to grab the woman and get out of here, but he needed appropriate supplies while he waited. He pulled the thin blanket he’d found in the trunk around him and turned the car on for a short while to use the heater. The thought of the master sergeant’s face when he was relieved of his woman made Miguel smile. Soon, he promised himself. It would be very soon now.

  But when he turned off the car’s engine to conserve his remaining petrol a moment later, the cold settled right back in his bones. And he knew it couldn’t be soon enough. For if he didn’t make his move before long, he was likely to freeze his buttocks off in this unaccustomed, inhospitable climate.

  Zach felt as if he’d taken a direct hit to the gut, and he stared at the stylish matron in front of him. “Kidnapped?”

  The young man who’d greeted them at the door with the shotgun stepped forward, sliding a supporting arm around the older woman’s shoulders. He flipped his shiny brown hair off his brow with a toss of his head that had the unconscious look of habit. “That was the reason for this,” he said, giving the now empty gun in his hand a small heft. “When you showed up practically on the heels of the note we received, we thought you must be them. I’m Richard Beaumont,” he added, thrusting out his hand. “David’s cousin. And this is David’s mother, Maureen.”

  Two other women and a man came out of a connecting room to join them in the foyer, and Richard introduced them as his sisters Cassidy and Jessica, and Jessica’s husband Christopher.

  Zach filed away his impression of a flashy brunette, a plain brunette, and a guy who could’ve stepped off the pages of Gentleman’s Quarterly to be examined later as Mrs. Beaumont said, “David called us several days ago. He said he’d met his future wife in California and was bringing her home to meet us. It seemed so sudden—we were concerned she’d turn out to be one of those awful, flashy, starlet types, or a golddigger who’d latched on to him for his money.” Then, obviously recalling the female in question was Zach’s sister, color flooded the older woman’s face.

  Lily’s abrupt whoop of laughter echoed in the pocket of silence that followed, and shock rippled through the assembled group as everyone turned to look at her. Even after two solid days of travel, with most of her makeup worn off and her hair tousled and slightly flattened on one side, she still had that last-of-the-red-hot mamas look about her, and it occurred to Zach that she probably appeared to be the exact type the Beaumonts had feared his sister would be. As it was, Mrs. Beaumont regarded Lily as if she’d stepped directly out of Bimbo Central Casting, and if his stomach hadn’t been tied up in about ten kinds of knots, he might have gotten a real kick out of her predicament.

  It was just as well he was in no mood, however, for it would have been premature anyway. Aside from that one brief moment this afternoon, he’d never seen Lily at a loss for words, and she wasn’t now. She directed a gentle smile at David’s mother.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That was terribly inappropriate, and I’m not making light of the situation. It’s just that Zach spent the entire drive from California fearing the exact same thing—that David was after his sister’s money,” she clarified when the older woman just stared at her blankly. “Glynnis is about to come into a considerable fortune of her own.”

  Mrs. Beaumont blinked. “Oh,” she said. Then she turned pale. “Oh, dear. I wonder if the people who have them know that. You can’t stay here,” she said in a sudden panic, turning to Zach. She made agitated shooing motions with her hands. “You have to leave.”

  Zach focused the full force of his attention on her. “I’m not going anywhere until I find my sister, ma’am,” he informed her levelly. He’d camp out on her lawn if he had to.

  “You must!” She looked beside herself with fear as she stared up at him. “They’ll think we called you, and they said not to call the police if we want to see David again. What if they’re watching the house? If they see you, they’ll think we ignored their warning.”

  Not about to be run off before he knew the entire story—and probably not even then, since after one look at this crew he’d decided he was the best candidate for getting Glynnis and David back in one piece—Zach took Mrs. Beaumont’s restless hands between his own and stroked his thumbs over them as he said slowly and calmly, “That kind of threat is a common ploy intended to keep the victim off kilter, ma’am. Extortionists count on your emotions clouding your ability to reason, but it’s important that you use this time to think as rationally as you can. For instance, take a good, hard look at Lily. Can you honestly imagine anyone ever confusing her for a cop?”

  Too late, he remembered Lily’s level-eyed way of meeting even the most disapproving scrutiny head on. But she played along as if she knew just how much he needed to stay here in order to exert some control over the situation. With every eye in the house turned on her, she stood with one hip cocked, studying her manicure as if she were alone in the foyer. Her jaw moved subtly, and if he hadn’t known better he would have sworn she was chewing gum.

  When Zach saw Mrs. Beaumont relax marginally, he eased out a breath, and said, “I need you to tell me exactly what led you to believe your son and Glynnis were abducted.”

  “We received a note about twenty minutes before you showed up.” She hesitated, then gestured toward the room the others had come out of a moment ago. “Let’s go in the parlor.”

  The entire gathering trooped into a large room with a set of French doors and two windows that undoubtedly looked out over the water, although at the moment it was too dark to see beyond a grouping of wicker chairs out on the lighted veranda. The top third of the windows was comprised of leaded, beveled glass, lending them a richness that was echoed in the cool, sage-green, silk-covered walls. By contrast, the room’s couch, loveseat, and chairs were mostly homey overstuffed pieces upholstered in unbleached canvas and hunter green chintz. A fire crackled cozily in the stone fire-place on the north wall.

  Mrs. Beaumont gestured for them to take a seat, but Zach remained standing. What he really wanted was to pace, but he stood at-ease as she turned to her nephew.

  “Show him the note, Richard.”

  Richard went to a built-in cupboard, where he retrieved a piece of paper. He brought it over to Zach.

  Looking down at it, Zach realized that until this moment, he hadn’t fully believed in the Beaumonts’ claim. In a far-flung corner of his mind he must have hoped they’d misunderstood or had somehow panicked over nothing. But this single sheet of paper with its three sentences formed of letters cut from magazines disabused him of the notion.

  It was brief and to the point.

  WE HAVE YOUR SON. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HIM AND HIS GIRLFRIEND AGAIN, YOU’LL AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS. CALL THE COPS AND THEY’RE DEAD.

  Over the years, Zach had been point man with his friend Cooper Blackstock on numerous recon missions involving kidnap victims. He understood the value of fear. But he learned now that the greasy slide in his gut that kept him alert and cautious wasn’t nearly as easy to control when the hostages under consideration included his baby sister. He sucked in quiet, even breaths to keep the feeling in check, and looked over at Maureen Beaumont, who was perched on the edge of a loveseat.

  “Where was this found?”

  “In the mailbox out on the road with the rest of the mail,” she said. “Jessie offered to collect it earlier in the day, but I wanted the exercise. Then I got busy and didn’t walk up the drive until later.”

  “You walked in the dark?”

  “Yes, I quite often do. I’ve always felt safe on this island.” Then her face crumpled, and Zach knew she must be realizing she’d probably never recapture that feeling of absolute safety again. “Oh, God,” she said.

  “Breathe,” he reminded her.

  She inhaled and exhaled, and when she’d comp
osed herself somewhat, she sat a little straighter in her seat and eyed him curiously. “How can you stay so calm?”

  “I’ve spent eighteen years in a specialized unit—extracting kidnap victims is part of what I do. This is different, of course, because it involves my sister, and I don’t know where Glynnis and your son are being held, so I can’t simply slip in and get them out. But I will see to it that both of them get home safe and sound, ma’am. You can count on that.”

  She nodded, then turned to the plain brunette seated next to her. “Master Sergeant Taylor and Miss”—she turned to Lily—“I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.”

  “Morrisette,” Lily said. “But please, Mrs. Beaumont, won’t you call me Lily?”

  “And I’d be honored if you’d call me Zach, ma’am,” Zach agreed.

  “Very well.” She turned back to the brunette. “Jessica, Zach and Lily will need rooms. Would you see about preparing them?”

  9

  ZACH MANAGED TO MAINTAIN HIS CALM, PARADE-GROUND face right up until the moment he shut the door to the room he’d been assigned. Alone at last, he dumped his duffel bag on the floor, walked to the side of the bed, and sat. He barely noticed either the room’s pleasing color scheme or its opulent appointments. He only knew that his hands had developed a fine tremor, and he stared at them as he clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to stop the shaking.

  His baby sister had been kidnapped.

  “No,” he whispered in fierce denial. He couldn’t lose her. He’d been looking after her one way or another since the day his mother had put her into his arms and then put the two of them on an airplane, and he could not, would not, lose her now.

  Except he hadn’t exactly done a stellar job of looking after her, had he? Maybe Lily was right. Maybe he had been concentrating on all the wrong things. Take Beaumont, for example. It appeared he wasn’t after Glynnie’s money after all. And even if he had been, suddenly that didn’t seem like the worst situation in the world. Zach had plenty of money—he’d happily provide for his sister and whoever else her little heart desired. Hell, he’d give up every red cent he owned if that would guarantee her safe return.

  It didn’t help knowing that this was far from his first screw-up with her. He’d been happy enough to skip out on her the minute he’d turned eighteen. He’d delegated responsibility without a backward glance, and hadn’t once bothered to make sure Grandfather was teaching her the most elementary of life skills.

  Nor had he bothered to really get to know her when he’d resumed charge of her after Grandfather’s death. He’d been so damned bent on protecting her from potential con artists out to drain her inheritance that he’d neglected to realize it was her own lack of knowledge that was probably her greatest vulnerability.

  He’d made certain assumptions about Glynnis without taking the time to discover who she’d become. And now he was faced with a fair possibility he’d never get that opportunity.

  No. Zach rose to his feet, teeth gritted. No, by God, that is not an option, so don’t even think it. He would get Glynnie back. And Beaumont as well, if that would make her happy. Damned if he was going to lose anyone else he cared about—his life had been filled with too many good-byes as it was. He’d lost his parents, his grandmother, and more men whom he’d fought beside and counted as friends than he cared to think about. There hadn’t been anything he could do to govern those circumstances. But he’d move heaven and earth to get his sister back.

  Not that he’d exactly made a great start. He should have insisted the police be called as soon as he’d learned about the kidnapping. Then again, his entire focus had been locked on not getting bounced from this house, because to do so would have cost him any chance of gaining control over the situation. Tomorrow morning he’d rectify that. Meanwhile, he wasn’t without resources of his own.

  He picked up the telephone from the nightstand and punched in his calling card number with one hand while he fished his address book out of his duffel with the other.

  A moment later the phone on the other end of the line rang three times before it was picked up by a machine. His friend Cooper Blackstock’s recorded voice began a spiel telling him to leave a message, then was abruptly replaced by a live voice that impatiently snarled, “Whataya want?”

  Zach glanced at the clock and grimaced. “Oh, shit, Coop. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  “Zach?” Coop’s voice warmed considerably. “That you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, sonuvabitch, Midnight. How’s it going? I hear your sister has some woman who’s an absolute babe living off her. I think Rocket dug up some information on said babe, but he won’t discuss it with me, so I’ll have to let him tell you what it is for himself. And don’t that beat all? Who would’ve thought the guy who used to tell us way more than anyone ever wanted to know about his sex life could suddenly be so discreet?”

  “Coop—”

  “Yeah, I know.” His warm laugh rumbled down the line. “Even Peter Pan’s gotta grow up sometime. But back to your sis, Rocket tells me she ran off with some guy. You disentangle her yet?”

  Zach’s hand tightened around the receiver. Suddenly he didn’t want to say this out loud, because to do so seemed to make it more real. But there was no help for it. “I’ve got a situation here, Ice. I’m at her boyfriend’s home now on Orcas Island, and it seems Glynnie and Beaumont were kidnapped on their way here.”

  “What?” The humor left Coop’s voice. “Jesus. What can I do to help?”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you’ve interviewed someone in the Seattle FBI for one of your books?”

  “No, man; I’m sorry. I don’t have a single contact there.”

  “Then I think you’d better let me talk to John. I need him to tap some of his sources for me.”

  “You got it. Hang on a second.”

  Zach heard him calling Rocket’s name, then a low-voiced conversation in which Cooper must have explained the situation, for John picked up the phone a moment later and said without preliminary, “I’ll make inquiries with the Seattle feds, Zach—find out from the field agents there if their SAC is reliable and discreet, or one of those assholes who cares more about grabbing headlines than the safety of the abductees.”

  It was an important distinction. Most of the kidnap victims their type of unit was charged with extracting were military, so it wasn’t often they dealt with the FBI. But they’d liberated enough snatched ambassadors and businessmen to know the personal agenda of the special agent in charge could make the difference between a victim being returned alive or shipped home in a body bag. The possibility of placing his sister’s life in the hands of some hotdogger out to make his name made Zach’s blood run cold.

  As if John could tell, he said with unsentimental briskness, “Give me the particulars so I can figure out what else needs to be done.”

  Zach recited them as if giving a report to a senior officer, and Rocket was silent for a moment. Then he said in a carefully neutral tone, “So you’re telling me Beaumont is the primary target?”

  “That would be an affirmative.” Then he took the stick out of his ass. “Ironic, isn’t it? In light of my allegations against him?”

  “Yeah. There seems to be a whole lot of that ironic shit going on around here lately.”

  Whatever the hell that meant. Ordinarily, Zach would have demanded to know. He also would have picked up on the odd note in John’s voice and hounded him unmercifully until he discovered what had put it there. But right now he had more important matters on his mind. “You have any contacts you can tap around here? I know this is out of your usual area, but I need to know if there are whispers of anything going down.” He rammed his fingers through his hair. “God, John, I’m groping around blind—I don’t even know where Glynnie and her boyfriend were snatched. It could have been anywhere between here and home. The guy’s mother was too hysterical to give me any details.”

  “So hopefully she’ll slam
down a tranq or two that’ll guarantee her a good night’s sleep, and you’ll learn more in the morning when she’s had time to calm down,” John said. “Meanwhile, you try to get some rest, too, and I’ll get cracking and see what I can find. Let me have a number where I can reach you. No, wait, that’s probably not a great idea—you’ll want to keep the lines clear so the kidnappers can get through. Jesus, Zach, you gotta drag yourself into the twenty-first century here; you’re about the only guy I know who still doesn’t own a cell phone. But, okay, never mind that,” he muttered, and Zach could practically smell the circuits burning in Rocket’s brain. “We can work around it. Give me a call tomorrow, late morning, and I’ll let you know what I’ve found.”

  “Thanks, John.” His gratitude was profoundly sincere, but to counteract the almost embarrassing degree of emotion that swept through him, he cleared his throat and said with deliberate lightness, “I could just plant a big wet one right on your lips.”

  “Not in this lifetime, pal.” Then John’s voice went dead serious. “You keep the faith, Zachariah. And let me and Coop know if you require our physical presence up there. He says it’s about a five-hour drive from here. What?” A quiet exchange occurred off John’s end of the line, then he spoke back into the receiver. “Ice said to tell you we can be there a helluva lot sooner than that if we charter a plane. So let us know.”