Live Wire

by Lora Leigh

  “Everything’s in place,” John assured her as they neared the stairs. “We have all our bases covered.”

  She nodded. She knew Jordan and his penchant for building in layers upon layers to his plans.

  It wouldn’t matter.

  The thought didn’t catch her off guard, though she would have preferred to escape it.

  Still, it was the truth. It wouldn’t matter. Tonight the culmination of a lifetime of running, of a mother’s death and the destruction of friends and loved ones, would end here. One way or the other.

  As they descended the stairs, she could feel the eyes on her. Dozens of guests were lingering in the foyer along with Bailey, Emily, Kell, and Senator Richard Stanton. She felt as though they were all staring at her, though she knew they weren’t. At least not overtly. Just as she knew that the malevolent gaze that made her skin crawl couldn’t possibly be in the foyer as well.

  Still, she felt it, like a whisper of death over her flesh.

  It was all she could do to keep moving forward, to hide the fear flashing through her from the man at her side.

  “Okay?” John asked as they neared the marble entrance area.

  “Fine,” she assured him. She would pretend. She had been pretending all her life, practicing for this night.

  “Courage is facing your demons,” he whispered at her ear as they took those final steps. “We all feel it, Tey.”

  She didn’t have a chance to argue the point. They stepped into the foyer and were immediately joined by Kell, Emily, Bailey, and the senator.

  Bailey wore a deep emerald silk sheath cut high to the knee and revealing the chiffon confection of her slip. With her hair arranged into artful waves and emeralds glittering at her neck and ears, she looked sedately festive.

  Emily’s rich sunlit dark blond hair was pulled back from her face to reveal her graceful neck and high cheekbones. Her black silk strapless gown smoothed over her more petite form and emphasized her breasts. Black silken lace covered the bodice and fell in dark shimmering waves to her feet over the silk, while hundreds of tiny crystals winked within the delicate cobweb design. Between the gown, the heels that added to her height, and her diamond-and-sapphire jewelry, she looked like a soft midnight star, while the compassion and concern in her gaze nearly had tears filling Tehya’s eyes again.

  Both women had their own unique tastes that were excellently presented in their gowns, accessories, and kind demeanors.

  Senator Richard Stanton, though nearing sixty, was still fit and handsome. The laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes and the strength of his expression had drawn constituents to him for decades. Now, he was grooming his son-in-law for politics, and, Tehya knew, eventually taking his senatorial seat. It was the reason for the glamorous balls he’d been throwing for several months now. Allowing his backers, his business associates and friends, as well as other potentially powerful friends, to meet the former SEAL and, hopefully, decide to contribute to his run for office.

  Kell would make a wonderful politician in some ways, she thought. He was a man who could command when needed and one who could lead effortlessly. He was also quite adept at seeing through the bullshit to the lies below and sidestepping them effectively.

  “You look absolutely exquisite, my dear.” Richard bent and kissed her cheek fondly before enfolding her in a quick hug. A major gesture in an atmosphere where affection was normally hidden.

  “Thank you, Senator,” she whispered, blinking again.

  What the hell was wrong with her? Her stomach was trembling as though she had never faced danger before, as though this particular specter of evil hadn’t been shadowing her for her entire life.

  “Are we ready to make our entrance, then?” he asked the small group quietly before lifting his gaze to survey the foyer. “Most of the guests who have arrived are already in the ballroom, and I’d like my daughter and son-in-law to greet them and begin tonight’s festivities.”

  His gaze was eagle sharp as he glanced back down at her, then extended his elbow to her. “Would you like to accompany me, Tehya?”

  Tehya managed a small smile. “I would love to accompany you, Senator Stanton.”

  As they stepped into the ballroom, Tehya noticed the small amount of whispering. The rumors had already circulated that something had happened between her and her lover.

  As they walked through the room, Bailey moved closer. “We just had a report from security that there was activity at the back gate,” the other woman murmured in her ear. “Stay alert.”

  Tehya gave a small nod, very aware of the small derringer tucked into the specially designed garter belt that she wore around her thigh.

  It wasn’t much, but at close range it could mean the difference between life and death. Between captivity or freedom.

  It had happened too quickly though, she thought desperately. The party hadn’t even truly begun yet.

  The band was still warming up in the center dais, the buffet tables were still fresh, and the men were lining up at the bar for drinks as champagne circled on trays carried by eager black-coated waiters.

  The senator escorted her to one of the tables set up along the wall of balcony doors that led out to the gardens. The glass doors had been thrown wide, a gentle autumn breeze filling the brightly lit ballroom and whispering around the exquisite fabrics and gowns that filled it as conversation began to fill the cavernous room and the senator stepped up to the center dais with Kell and Emily following.

  John, Bailey, Travis, and Lilly took their seats at the table with Tehya, their gazes seemingly inattentive, though Tehya knew better. She could see the signs of their suspicions, their careful regard of each and every guest.

  “Ms. Johnson.” Despite appearances and her demeanor of being less than cautious, Tehya still gave a start as Stephen Taite, his son, Craig, daughter-in-law Lauren, his granddaughter, Journey Taite, and the quiet, darkly brooding Beauregard Grant, stood just behind John’s chair as he sat in a protective position. “I heard Mr. Malone’s left. I had hoped to speak to him for a moment. Will he be returning?”

  That was the cover story, that Jordan had left, only those associated with the assassin would believe he was dead.

  That wave of agonizing anger and pain washed through her again, cramping her stomach and tightening her face.

  She could feel her lips trembling as she tried to come up with a smile, too aware of the sudden interest when she couldn’t control her response.

  “I don’t think…” she cleared her throat as her voice roughened.

  “Mr. Malone was called away unexpectedly.” John stood and turned, his tone cool, brooking no questions. “Ms. Johnson is understandably upset that business concerns have dictated her inability to follow along with him.”

  She swallowed tightly.

  “Tey?” Journey moved around John, ignoring the sudden frown on his face as he attempted to block her.

  She merely gave him an irritated look as Tehya rose slowly to her feet.

  So innocent, so ignorant of the pure evil they shared the world with.

  “I’m fine, Journey,” she assured the other girl, almost wishing they could go back to the day when their biggest worry was the landscaping scheme for a difficult client. “Jordan’s departure has simply left me upset, I guess.”

  Stephen sniffed at her response to Journey. “A man has to do his business.”

  Arrogance filled his gaze; it was a natural landscape for his expression. Her grandfather, as her mother had described him, was much different. Bernard had been openly generous, warm and compassionate, where his brother was more prone to hide his emotions beneath that cool exterior.

  Francine Taite had dearly loved her uncle Stephen though, as well as her first cousin Craig. Though Craig, Francine had always stated, may have believed in his own arrogant facade.

  But before her death, during the times Francine and Tehya had had together, Francine had seemed to live on her memories of her family and the laughter she had once shared
with them.

  “We’re not certain when he’ll be returning,” John answered for her. “I believe Tehya is actually considering joining him once her business concerns are taken care of here.”

  Stephen’s hawk-like gaze swung back to her as a brooding frown centered his brows.

  “You’re leaving?” Journey’s voice lowered until Tehya was nearly forced to read her lips instead. “I need to talk to you.”

  With her eyes, she gestured as though trying to glance behind her.

  To Beauregard Grant.

  He stood tall, brooding, and watchful behind the other girl.

  Tehya glanced back at John. “I need a moment with Journey.”

  “Journey can wait…” Stephen began to protest.

  “But I can’t, Mr. Taite,” she informed him.

  Family or no family, she’d come too far in her life to ever bow down to his arrogance, or his sense of superiority. It was one of the things her mother had always seemed amused by, Stephen’s sense of self-worth.

  “I believe Journey has a previous appointment with me.” There was a sense of desperation filling the younger girl’s gaze and Tehya stared at him coldly.

  “I really don’t care.” Keeping her voice soft she looked at his hand, then back to John with cool demand.

  “I’m sure it won’t take long.” John turned to Beauregard, his expression confident that the other man would heed the order in his gaze.

  And he did.

  Beauregard slowly released Journey’s arm, but not before he bent his head and whispered something in her ear.

  Tehya watched as Journey seemed to pale, her gaze darkening in distress as her companion’s head lifted and he stepped back slowly.

  “Walk with me.” She held her hand out to the younger girl, and waited until it was taken before turning back to John. “We’ll just be a moment.”

  That didn’t stop the two couples from rising to their feet and following behind her as she walked to the open patio. Stepping outside she turned back to them, refusing to be denied now.

  “I think Journey and I can handle it from here.”

  John and Travis both stared back at her for a long, silent moment, obviously prepared to refuse the demand.

  “I think I can conduct a conversation by myself,” she stated. “I promise, we won’t go far.”

  The group that stood just outside the patio didn’t looked pleased. Beauregard Grant looked frankly pissed, if the glitter in his gaze was any indication.

  The cool solitude that awaited, just on the other side of the small grotto she led Journey to, would be a very welcome relief.

  “What’s going on?” Tehya asked as they stepped into the rose- and wisteria-covered sheltered area.

  “I don’t know.” The stress in Journey’s voice was apparent. “It’s Beauregard, Teylor.” Journey turned to her, tears glittering in her eyes. “I think he’s involved in something very illegal, and I think he’s going to attempt to force me to accept the proposal he made tonight.” Her voice broke. “Teylor, what am I going to do?”

  “And I think you may have been warned to keep your stupid bitch mouth shut!”

  Tehya hadn’t sensed anyone, she hadn’t seen so much as a shift of a shadow, but she knew that voice. She knew the evil in that whisper and she knew, she’d just been caught by her enemies.

  Her lips parted on a scream that never came. A heavy cloth came over her face, a noxious scent invaded her nostrils, and seconds later, darkness washed over her.

  CHAPTER 20

  Tehya came awake slowly to the sound of Journey gagging and coughing in reaction to her own return of consciousness and the effects of the chloroform used to disable them.

  Sitting up from the thin mattress that had been laid over a rough low table, Tehya swung her feet to the floor as she swallowed tightly and forced back the reflex to gag.

  It wasn’t her first experience with the sleep-inducing drug. As she stared around the room, she was horribly afraid it wouldn’t be her last.

  “Teylor?” Journey’s voice was weak, shaky. “Oh, God, what happened?”

  “We’ve been kidnapped.” Tehya stared around the room. It wasn’t large by any means. The dim lights high on the metal walls were battery-powered rather than electric.

  “Where are we?” Terror filled the young woman’s expression as well as her voice.

  Tehya breathed out roughly. “It’s a shipping crate. The type they use for overseas shipping.”

  A sob echoed through the area.

  Beauregard. She wondered if he was behind this. God, he had to be. But he wasn’t old enough. He couldn’t have been associated with Sorrel.

  “Teylor, what’s happening?” Journey whispered.

  Tehya fought to clear her mind. She needed to think. She needed to figure a way out of this.

  She remembered hearing Gregor Ascarti’s voice as the cloth went over her face. He was involved, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots.

  As that thought went through her mind, she heard the sound of metal scraping against metal and the heavy door at the end of the metal shipping crate swung open.

  “Let’s go.” Ascarti, Mark Tenneyson, and Ira Arthurs stood at the entrance, heavily armed.

  Tehya stood slowly, her gaze locked on Ascarti.

  He was frowning at her, glaring, actually.

  “You were supposed to be dead,” she whispered.

  He grunted at that. “If you’d had your way, I would be. Fortunately for me, I think I might have actually survived.” He smiled then. A reptilian smirk that sent a chill racing up her spine. “Unfortunately for you, perhaps. Now let’s go.” He waved the handgun toward the darkness outside.

  “How did you get into the gardens?” she asked as they moved slowly from the crate.

  “A little inside help,” he revealed, his slimy voice amused. “Now, be a good little girl and let’s finish our business. Then I can go about recouping my money from that little hit your friends made against my stash.”

  “What hit?” She played dumb. She’d perfected that illusion through the years.

  He laughed, clearly refusing to believe her. “Let’s go, Ms. Fitzhugh. Someone is very interested in talking to you.”

  Keeping Journey close to her, Tehya ignored the other girl’s confusion as she followed Ascarti.

  She was right, they had been held in a large metal shipping crate stored inside a warehouse on the docks. She could hear the sounds of the ships outside, voices calling out and machinery running.

  Across from the crate, the doors to an office were thrown open, and it was there they were led.

  Tehya stepped into the brightly lit room, her heart racing, fear drying her mouth and making her knees weak. As the men gathered there came into view, she felt something inside her soul wither and die.

  At the same time Journey cried out in denial and confusion, then in fear as one of the men behind her all but threw her onto a tattered leather couch at a signal from her father as she moved to race across the room.

  Stephen Taite, Craig Taite, and Beauregard Grant stood watching them. Stephen was propped against the edge of an old desk, his arms crossed over his tuxedoed chest, his expression hard and brutal. Journey’s father, Craig, grimaced in disgust as Journey cried out to him.

  Only Beauregard remained completely unaffected, cold, brooding as he watched.

  Tehya sat down slowly at the other end of the couch, fighting to make sense of it, to believe what she was seeing.

  “Ah, I remember that look.” Stephen’s smile was cold, cruel. “The same look your dear mother had when we caught up with her in Nicaragua. I believe she may have actually cried, though.” The pleasure in his voice was sickening. “And I would have thought by now you would have explained who you are. The daughter of our dear departed Francine, Tehya Fitzhugh.”

  “That’s not true,” Journey cried out hoarsely.

  “It’s true,” Tehya told her quietly, “and they’re the reason Mother died.”


  “What are you doing?” Journey cried out before Tehya could speak. “Father? Grandfather? Have you lost your minds?”

  Stephen flashed a hard frown at her.

  “If she opens her stupid mouth again, gag her,” her father ordered.

  Tehya turned her head slowly, not wanting to face what she knew she would see in the young girl’s eyes. She was only twenty-two. She might not have grown up with an affectionate father, but she had grown up with a semblance of confidence in the world and her place in it. That was being stolen from her grip now by the very men she trusted above all others.

  “Will you gag me as well?” Tehya turned back to the three men.

  Stephen smirked back at her, his lined face twisted in a parody of amused tolerance. “If I gagged you, dear, then I wouldn’t be able to hear the answer to the question I have. And you will answer it, or Journey will pay the price.”

  He smiled benignly at his granddaughter.

  It was Beauregard’s reaction Tehya caught, though. A flash of something bitter, heated as he slowly tensed his arms unfolding and hanging, ready at his sides.

  “You killed my mother.” She felt numb. She stared back at Stephen and Craig. How horrified, how terrified she must have been when they caught up with her.

  Stephen chuckled. “She thought we were there to help her. That her father had sent us after she contacted him.” Satisfaction filled his smile. “She was rather upset to learn that wasn’t the case.” He turned to his son. “We did enjoy our last hours with her, though, didn’t we?”

  Craig’s answer was a fond smile as Journey’s smothered cry of horror sliced through Tehya’s senses.

  What the hell was she supposed to say now?

  “Now, my dear, it’s like this.” Stephen’s expression became hardened once again, the monster inside him gleaming through his eyes as they focused on her. “If you want to ensure your dear cousin Journey has a reasonably content life from here on out, you’ll answer my question and do so without a fuss. Refuse me, or dare to attempt to lie to me, and she’ll die with you.”

  “I’d rather die!” Journey cried out, her voice echoing with rage and pain as she tried to surge to her feet.