The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5)

by Krista Sandor

  “Not paid, but this is how I met the people that booked me for the big shoe campaign I’m doing now. You should go. Just tell them you’re me to get in the door. This could jump start things for you.”

  “Again, Jade, we look nothing alike.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I’ve never seen the same people at any of these parties. The one tonight is near Palo Alto. It’s at some tech mogul’s place.”

  “Which one?” Monica asked.

  “Who knows? Those dudes are falling from the sky around here!”

  Monica pursed her lips. “They don’t expect sex, do they?”

  Jade broke out into a laugh that turned to a cough. “Jesus, Monica! What do you think I am?”

  “I didn’t mean I thought you were…”

  “No, nothing like that,” Jade said with a chuckle. She paused and chewed her lip. “You know how sometimes models get hired to go to conventions and work the floor?”

  Monica crossed her arms. “Yes, booth babes. Those are the worst gigs. All those creeps pretending they care about copy machines or toilet paper while all they’re trying to do is get a peek down your shirt.”

  Jade nodded. “Agreed, those suck! But this is different. This is just a party. All they want is some eye candy. I’ve met some cool people at these things.”

  “How many have you gone to?”

  “I’ve been to five of them.”

  “Why haven’t you mentioned it?”

  “It’s very hush-hush. My agent knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. That’s how I got involved. I didn’t say anything because if the word gets out that someone hired models or actresses to walk around a party, people get antsy. They think you want something.”

  Monica narrowed her gaze. “You do want something.”

  “Of course, the game is not to make it look like you want something,” Jade said with a coy smile. She settled into the couch. “I’ve never been to a tech party, but I bet those are pretty tame. A bunch of nerds with more money than they know what to do with. You could meet some venture capitalist that just invested in a fashion magazine, and now, he wants you on the cover. Bring some of your business cards. Pass them out. Who knows what could happen?”

  Monica twisted a strand of hair. She’d had cards made with a headshot and her contact information. She’d given out hundreds but had hardly gotten a bite. This party might be worth a shot.

  “Where is it again?”

  Jade clapped. “It’s just an hour south of here near Palo Alto in Portola Valley. The email said to park at the Palo Alto Transit Center Station and take a cab to the house from there. That’s how it usually goes. They don’t want a shitload of cars parked all over.”

  “What if I want to leave?”

  “You leave,” Jade answered. “It’s not like prison. Call a cab, walk to a bus stop, stick out your thumb and hitch a ride if you want. It’s just a party, Monica. Who knows, it could be a real opportunity for you.”

  Monica parked her car in the Palo Alto Transit Center’s lot. She may have gotten out of Kansas, but she still drove the same damn car as her grandmother’s bakery delivery vehicle. She didn’t even bother to unpack it before she left Jade’s place. She could leave it unlocked with the doors wide open, and nobody in this area would touch it. Going to high school in Mission Springs, she knew the wealthy didn’t even notice cars like her fifteen-year-old Subaru, and Palo Alto’s level of wealth surpassed even that of the ritzy Kansas City suburb.

  The lot wasn’t busy. It was early August. In a few weeks, Stanford University students would be back, and this place would be teeming with young adults embarking on their college experience. Monica wondered about Courtney. This is where she and Chip were supposed to have gone to school. Like everyone else from her past, Monica had lost touch with Court. She could search for her on social media, but what would be the point? She needed to see another person living their dream life as much as she needed a hole in her head.

  She got out of the Subaru and smoothed the wrinkles from the form-fitting ivory number Jade had lent her. It was a freebie dress from Saks Jade didn’t like because she thought it clashed with her coloring. Monica kicked off her flip-flops she drove down in and switched them out for a pair of heels then tucked a few of her business cards into a slim pocket sewn into the dress. A cab pulled up near the entrance to the parking area. Luck must have been on her side that evening.

  “Where to, miss?” he asked.

  “Portola Valley.” Monica pulled the slip of paper from her clutch and handed it to the driver.

  “The Portola Valley is a beautiful place. Do you live there?”

  “No, it’s my first time in Palo Alto. I live in San Francisco, but I never come down this way.”

  “It’s supposed to be one of the wealthiest towns in America,” he added.

  Monica nodded. “I’m just here to meet some friends for a get-together.”

  The cabbie was making conversation, but Monica didn’t need anyone knowing she was going to an address she’d never been to and was about to mingle with strangers.

  “Sure, sure,” the driver said and flipped on the radio. He’d gotten the picture.

  Fifteen minutes later, it was as if they were in another world. Sweeping hills and thick foliage surrounded them as the cab wound its way up the narrow Portola Valley streets. Every so often, Monica caught a glimpse of a mansion nestled into its own twenty-acre slice of California heaven.

  “This is it,” the cabbie said, pulling up to a gated drive. He whistled. “Will you look at that.”

  “What?” she asked.

  He pointed out the window. “You’re at the house on top of the world. From here you look down on Silicon Valley and the East Bay Hills. Quite a place to meet up with friends.”

  She nodded politely. The sun was starting to set, casting the landscape in a golden glow. She glanced toward the house. A man in a suit with an iPad stood next to a side door adjacent to an imposing iron gate.

  “Would you like me to wait until you get inside?” the driver asked.

  Could he sense her apprehension?

  She tightened her grip on her clutch. “No, I’m fine.”

  She’d noticed a bus stop down the road. If she needed to leave and couldn’t get a cab, that’s where she would go. She released a shaky breath. It was just a party. She had gone to hundreds of them in the heyday of her career.

  She paid the cab driver and smiled at the man at the gate. His expression remained neutral. Usually, men got tongue-tied around her, but this gentleman was all business.

  “Name?”

  “Jade…Jade Adkins.”

  She tried again and gave him the smile she used to break hearts, but this guy might as well have been a brick wall. Wordlessly, he opened the gate and stood to the side. Monica passed through and wrapped her arms around her body. It was chilly tonight. The air buzzed with the sounds of nature at night just like it had when she lost her virginity to Gabe Sinclair, surrounded by candlelight, hidden behind the blanket of trees in the Langley Park Botanic Gardens.

  She shook her head. More than a decade after she’d left him, whispers of that man still found their way into her life. The path curved, and a behemoth of a house appeared in front of her. This home marveled any Mission Springs mansion. The modern structure had sweeping outdoor decks and more windows than she could count. A pool nearly the size of Lake Boley sat down the hill next to a cabana that could have comfortably housed several families.

  Another man with an iPad met her at the front door. “Miss Adkins?”

  She nodded and walked inside the home. People were everywhere. Jade was right. You couldn’t tell who was paid to be there. There were many beautiful women, but there were just as many attractive men. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad?

  A woman carrying a tray of champagne passed by, and Monica plucked a glass for herself.

  “A little bubbly to loosen up,” she whispered.

  “Pre-party jitters,” came a man�
�s voice.

  Monica turned around and smiled. “Something like that.”

  Could this be her venture capitalist?

  The man was California handsome, blond and tan.

  “I’m Greg, and you are?”

  “Someone who would love to see more of the house,” Monica said and gifted Greg with her killer smile.

  “I can help with that. This is my friend’s home. I know it well.” He gestured for her to walk in front of him.

  She noticed he was wearing a ring, but it wasn’t a wedding ring. It looked like some kind of class ring with a tree design. She wasn’t sure who this Greg was, but supporting nature gave him points in her book.

  Greg led her through the palatial home. He showed her all its fancy features from the movie theater to the wine cellar to the gym and sauna. They walked outside and admired the pool. They were standing out on the grass, and no other party goers had ventured down this way.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s beautiful.” She wasn’t lying. She gazed at the pool. The sun had set, and the yard was completely dark. Only the pool, lit with underwater lights, glowed electric blue against the night sky.

  Greg leaned toward her. “I’ll tell you what’s beautiful.”

  He rested his hand on the small of her back. She didn’t mind the gesture until he slid it a few inches lower and gripped her buttocks.

  Monica stiffened. “Please, get your hand off my ass.”

  “Kitten’s getting upset,” Greg said, squeezing harder.

  “I’m not going to ask again,” she warned, lowing her voice. She wanted this creep to know she meant business, but she didn’t want to tarnish Jade’s reputation if this guy tried to find out who she was pretending to be.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? A little pussy for the tech crowd.”

  She slid her hand on top of his, grabbed one of his fingers, and twisted.

  “Bitch,” Greg hissed and threw a backhand. It struck her on the side of her face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but his ring had scratched along her cheekbone.

  She stumbled back a few steps, and her hand flew to her cheek. Blood dotted her fingertips. She looked around wildly. Greg hadn’t stuck around. He was already halfway up the stairs heading back to the party.

  “Dammit,” she said and pressed her fingertips back to her cheek to try and stop the bleeding.

  This night was over. She needed to find somewhere private to clean up. Then she’d call a cab. The cabana sat dark and lifeless next to the pool. She reached down and slipped out of her heels then headed over. It was nearly pitch-black. Among the trees and landscaping, nobody would notice her crossing the yard. She gripped the doorknob and turned. Thankfully, it was unlocked. She flipped the first switch she could find. A light in the far corner of the space came to life, and she glanced around. The cabana was essentially one large party room with couches and tables. A door toward the back of the structure hung half open. The outline of a shower curtain caught her eye.

  A bathroom!

  She released a relieved breath. This would be her last stop and then she could leave.

  She went inside, closed the door, and turned on the light.

  She grabbed a tissue but froze when she caught herself in the mirror. This is who she was. Once upon a time, she was photographed for magazines. Now, she was standing in a random bathroom blotting blood off her face after being backhanded by some asshole. She pulled the tissue back and assessed her face. The cut was barely a scrape. There was no real harm done. It was time to call a cab. She opened her clutch to get her cell phone when a pair of voices came from outside the bathroom door.

  “Why are the lights on? This is supposed to be a private meeting. You know I can’t be out like this,” came a man’s low voice. He had an accent. It sounded eastern European or Russian. She couldn’t quite place it.

  “I’ve been assured that this location is secure. You know it has to be this way,” came a woman’s voice.

  Monica stood stock-still. What was she supposed to do? Walk out? Say she’d gotten lost?

  “I need to take a piss,” the man huffed.

  Monica looked around. The bathroom wasn’t large. She jumped behind the shower curtain and held her breath.

  The man entered, took off his sports coat and hung it on the door hook. Monica peeked past the curtain, but she could only see a partial profile. The man was around her age. He had a rounded nose and a faint pink scar that ran down the side of his cheek. He finished with the toilet. When he washed his hands, she noticed that he wore a ring similar to the one she’d seen on the jerk, Greg. It glinted in the light.

  “Lex, it’s almost time,” the woman called.

  “Okay, okay,” he shot back in his thick accent and left without his jacket.

  Monica stayed in the shower and listened. The woman started speaking to this Lex in hushed tones. Were these two here to hook up? Was she going to have to listen to them have sex? She released a breath. Whatever they were here for, she would have to wait it out—or not. She glanced up. The shower sported a window. She stood, cupped her hands over her eyes, and looked outside. The area behind the cabana was wooded, but if she had to, she could climb out. As gently as she could, she lifted the lock. It couldn’t hurt to be ready to get the hell out of there the second she had the chance.

  Another burst of sound caught her attention. The door to the pool house opened, and more men’s voices filled the space.

  “This better be worth our fucking money,” came a man’s voice. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  “Do you have what we want?” another man asked. His voice was higher. He sounded nervous.

  The man with the accent let out a low, sinister chuckle. “If you are my top bidder, you’ll walk out with it tonight. You know I am the best in the world. I’ve hacked into every major American company. My ransomware is untraceable. If I wanted to, I could see all your company’s secrets.”

  “I guess we’re lucky you’re on our side,” the man with the high voice replied.

  “Let’s see if you are my highest bidder. There is another player in this game. I need to text him and see if he wants to top your offer.”

  The room was silent until a cell phone pinged. The tone hung in the air like smoke.

  Before Monica could even blink, a sharp pop resonated throughout the pool house.

  Gunfire?

  She pulled the curtain aside and stared at the door. For a beat, the world stood still. Nobody in the main room said a word. Monica glanced down. A thick pool of red edged under the door and stained the bathroom’s white Carrara marble tiles.

  Voices broke out, low and anxious.

  “What the fuck are we going to do now?” a man barked. “We didn’t agree to this!”

  “He was going to betray us. It was our only choice. I’ve got it covered. Nobody will know what happened.”

  A pained cry vibrated against the bathroom door.

  Monica pressed her hands to her mouth. She couldn’t take her eyes off the blood pooling at the entrance of the bathroom. She glanced at the window. She had to get out of there. Whoever these people were, they were desperate enough to kill. She looked down at her ivory dress. She needed to cover up. Even in the dark of night, the white dress would make her an easy target. She stepped out of the shower and lifted the sports coat from the hook. A sick chill passed over her as she donned the garment and grabbed her clutch.

  Was she wearing the coat of a dead man? She didn’t know and didn’t have time to care.

  She moved toward the window but froze when the voices picked up.

  “Where’s the drive? We still need it.”

  Monica buttoned the coat and stepped back into the shower. Something banged against the door to the bathroom. She startled and knocked over a bottle of body wash. It rolled back and forth inside the tub as fear ripped through her chest.

  “Who the fuck is in the bathroom?” came a voice.

  The adrenaline cou
rsing through her veins took over. She opened the window and hopped out just as the door to the bathroom opened.

  “Who is it? Who is it?” the woman called out.

  Monica didn’t look back. She ran down the hillside barefoot, dodging trees and prickly bushes.

  “There’s a road! There’s a road!” she whispered to herself.

  She had to think. She had to be smart. Her life depended on it. The cab had wound its way up. If she headed straight down, she would eventually hit the road. She kept moving. She didn’t hear anyone behind her, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t on the way. Just then, she heard something, and a set of headlights cut through the night. She hid behind a tree but nearly started to cry when she saw it was a bus.

  She ran out onto the road and waved her hands. “Stop! Please!”

  The bus stopped in front of her. She ran to the door. “Thank you! I need to get on!”

  The driver looked her up and down and paused at her bare feet. “Honey, the stop is right there. Of course, you can get on.”

  Monica glanced at the enclosure at the side of the road.

  The driver narrowed her gaze. “On or off? I’m on a schedule.”

  Monica glanced behind her. Nobody was there. Nobody had followed her. “I need to get to the Palo Alto Transit Station.”

  “It’s your lucky day. That’s where we’re headed.”

  Monica paid her fare and took a seat. Thankfully, the bus was empty.

  She squeezed her hands into fists. She needed to think. What just happened? Was that Lex dead or was he just injured? She had to tell someone, right? Call the police. She tried to slow her breathing. She would find a pay phone. She could call it in anonymously. But first, she needed to get back to her car and get the hell out of Palo Alto.

  The bus came to a stop, and she looked up.

  “Transit Center Station,” the driver called.

  Monica blinked. It was as if time was collapsing in on itself. “It’s just shock. You’re just in shock,” she whispered. She grabbed her clutch and got off the bus.

  It pulled away, and she watched the taillights disappear into the night.