by Kat Martin
He was pretty sure he knew what Reese would do.
Reese would try to escape.
* * *
As the mother of Arthur’s grandchild, Kenzie calling Arthur’s office wasn’t out of the ordinary. She identified herself, and his assistant, a young man named Jonathan O’Neill, informed her that his boss wasn’t feeling well and had taken the day off.
“Mr. Haines is home recovering,” Jonathan said. “If you need him, you should be able to reach him there.”
“I have that number. Thanks for your help.” Kenzie wondered if he’d heard the rumors that she was responsible for Arthur’s son’s murder, though his tone betrayed nothing.
Kenzie turned to Reese, who sat next to her at the kitchen table. “Arthur’s at home. His assistant said he took the day off.”
“Better for us,” Reese said, a hard edge in his voice. “No witnesses.”
Kenzie cut him a sharp glance but he was already out of his chair and moving toward the door.
“I need to check around the area before we leave,” he said. “Make sure no one is watching. Hang on till I get back.”
He returned a few minutes later, certain the town house wasn’t under surveillance. They climbed into his shiny black Jag and Kenzie gave him directions to Arthur’s mansion on Deloache Avenue in Old Preston Hollow. As they pulled up in front of the house, which resembled a French château, Kenzie noticed a for-sale sign in the yard.
“Looks like Tabby was right,” she said. “Arthur loves this place. There’s no way he would sell it unless he had to.”
“Let’s go see what he has to say.” Reese got out of the Jag and they walked together up to the porch. As Reese rang the doorbell, Kenzie noticed the drapes were drawn in Arthur’s study and several rooms upstairs.
It took a few minutes before the door swung open and Arthur’s housekeeper, Betty Vernon, a stout, older woman who had worked for Arthur for years, stood in the opening.
“Hello, Betty,” Kenzie said, casting Reese a warning glance. There would be at least one witness to whatever he might have planned. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Betty looked nervous, her gaze going from Kenzie to Reese and back. She had definitely heard the rumors that Kenzie was responsible for Lee’s death.
“I’m afraid Mr. Haines is a little under the weather,” the housekeeper said. “In fact, I was just about to leave. Mr. Haines gave me the rest of the day off so he could have the house to himself.”
Kenzie reached out and touched the woman’s arm. “We need to talk to him, Betty. It’s about his grandson.”
“It’s important,” Reese added.
Betty hesitated, clearly uncertain. “All right, I’ll just go up and tell him you’re here.”
“You don’t need to worry.” Kenzie smiled. “We’ll check on him, make sure he’s okay.” Kenzie hoped her concern appeared at least half-genuine, though she had never been much of an actress. “You go ahead. We promise not to stay too long.”
Reese gave her one of his most charming smiles. “Thanks, Betty. Enjoy your day off.”
Not surprisingly, Betty returned his smile and stepped back to let them in. They climbed the sweeping staircase, holding on to the ornate wrought-iron banister. Though the sun was shining outside, the gilded wall sconces were burning, necessary with the bedroom doors all closed, blocking the sunlight. The master suite sat at the end of the hall, the door also closed. Was Arthur that ill? Or was he hiding from something? Or someone?
Kenzie rapped lightly. “Arthur? It’s Kenzie. I need to talk to you.”
A brief pause ensued. “I’m not feeling well. You’ll have to come back another time.”
Instead Reese opened the door and they walked into the huge master suite. A big four-poster bed dominated the room, a pair of suitcases sitting open on top of the peach silk counterpane. One of the bags was full, Arthur busily throwing clothes into the other.
“Going somewhere?” Reese drawled, the coolness in his tone disguising the anger Kenzie read in his face.
Arthur just stood there, his gaze darting around the room in search of a way to escape.
“How can you be part of this, Arthur?” Kenzie’s temper rose. “Lee is dead. Griff’s been kidnapped. Are you that desperate?”
Arthur’s thick silver eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His shoulders slumped as if lead bars weighed them down. He looked ten years older. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re not fools,” Reese said. “We know you’re involved in this. Tell us where the boy is and you can fly off to wherever the hell you want.”
The color drained out of Arthur’s face. “The boy? You don’t mean Griff? Are you...are you saying someone has kidnapped my grandson?”
“You know they have,” Kenzie said, fighting to stay in control. “You wanted the Poseidon. The kidnappers are demanding Reese back out of the purchase in exchange for Griff’s release.”
Arthur swayed. He might have fallen if Reese hadn’t gripped his shoulder, dragged him over to a nearby chair, and shoved him down into the seat.
“Mother of God,” he said. “I didn’t know, I swear. I owe them money. They said they’d get the rig for me so I could pay them back, but...but...”
Reese stared down at him. “But what, Arthur?”
Arthur said nothing.
“By now your housekeeper is gone and we’re all alone in this big house,” Reese said. “On most occasions, I’m a civilized man, but I can promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to wring the information out of you.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll do what I have to—and enjoy every minute of it.”
Arthur just sat there shaking his head. “I didn’t know about Griff until you just told me. They said they’d get me the platform. They never told me how.” His eyes, a pale shade of blue, found Kenzie’s across the bedroom. “I’m sorry, my dear. So sorry. I’d never do anything to hurt the boy.”
“Who’s behind this, Arthur?” Reese pressed. “Give me a name.”
For a moment, Arthur’s eyes slid closed. He dragged in a shaky breath of air.
“Now, Arthur,” Reese demanded.
“His name is Sawyer DeMarco. He owns the Pot-of-Gold casino, among other clubs in the state. I owe him several million dollars.”
“Keep talking,” Reese commanded.
“DeMarco says the Oklahoma casinos are cutting into his profits, costing him a lot of money. He wants to build clubs in northern Louisiana to make up for the losses. He needs me to convince Daniel to help him. He knows if Daniel supports the proposal, the legislature will fall into line and the state will grant him the permits he needs.” Arthur looked at Kenzie with regret-filled eyes. “More casinos mean more money. That’s what this is all about.”
“What does Daniel think of this?” Reese asked. “He willing to go along with DeMarco’s plans?”
Arthur shook his head. “I went to see him over the weekend. He refused to even consider DeMarco’s request.”
Kenzie’s throat tightened. She just wanted her son to come home. “Please, Arthur, if you have any idea where they might have taken Griff—”
“I don’t know!” He shot up from the chair and his gaze jerked to Reese. “DeMarco killed Lee!” He swallowed. “He murdered my son and now Daniel is also in danger! I’d tell you where the boy is if I knew!”
The anguish etched into his face said it was the truth. Reese flicked a glance at Kenzie. “Let’s go.” As they stepped out into the hall, he turned back and pinned Arthur with a glare.
“We were never here. You understand that, Haines? Because you open your mouth about any of this and Sawyer DeMarco won’t be the only one you’ll have to deal with. I can personally guarantee, you won’t walk away in one piece.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
They were back in the town house, Reese making phone calls to bring everyone up to
speed while Kenzie paced back and forth across the kitchen floor and Flo distracted herself at the sink, dicing vegetables for a fresh pot of soup.
In the last twenty minutes, Reese had watched Kenzie go from shocked disbelief, to grief, then anger.
She turned toward him and something shifted in her face and posture, a subtle change as her shoulders squared and her back straightened. The worry lines across her forehead smoothed out, and resolve hardened her expression.
“We’ve got less than three days. We know who’s responsible for all of this. We can be in Shreveport in less than three hours. We need to go there ourselves, see what we can find out.”
Admiration stirred emotions Reese couldn’t afford to feel. Her courage and strength impressed him more every day. With admiration and respect came arousal, which he firmly tamped down, but it didn’t make him want her any less. Even with the bruise on her jaw and the skin turning purple around one eye, she was beautiful. And she was determined. She wouldn’t give up until she brought her son home.
Reese had never known a woman like her. Not the tough girls he’d dated when he’d been a teenage delinquent, nor the debutantes after he’d reformed. Certainly not his wife, whom he’d married because he’d wanted a home and family only to discover Sandra’s reasons for marrying him were exactly the opposite.
His mother had been a strong, self-reliant woman. Perhaps that was where he had learned to appreciate those qualities.
One thing he knew, Kenzie was different. Special. It made him determined to protect her no matter the cost and even more determined to find her boy and bring him home.
“Hawk is there,” she continued to argue doggedly, though so far he hadn’t said a word. “By the time we get there, he might have new information. If DeMarco’s behind the kidnapping, there’s even a chance the men are holding Griff somewhere right in Shreveport. Maybe even the casino.”
It was a definite possibility. Of course, the kidnappers could also be in Dallas or anywhere else on the planet.
“I saw the men who took Griff,” she reminded him. “If they work for DeMarco, they might be in the club. Maybe I’ll recognize one of them.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Unfortunately, the kidnappers know who we are. Christ, our photos have been all over the tabloids. They’d spot us the minute we walked through the door.”
Kenzie’s chin firmed. “So we change our appearance, make ourselves unrecognizable.”
Reese just shook his head. It was a crazy idea. Kenzie was battered and bruised and terrified for her son. A half-baked undercover scheme was dangerous at best. “It’s not a good idea.”
Kenzie pinned him with a glare. “I’ll admit my plan isn’t perfect, but we can’t just sit here and wait for something to happen. If we want to find Griff, we have to make something happen.” She clamped her hands on her hips. “I’m going to Shreveport—with or without you.”
Reese’s temper flared. No way was he letting Kenzie put herself in danger. On the other hand, few people had the courage it took to go head-to-head with him. He gave her points for that.
And if the boy was actually there...
A grim look settled over his features. “Fine. Go upstairs and pack your things. As soon as you’re ready, we’re going to Shreveport.”
* * *
Taking action—no matter what it was—filled Kenzie with renewed strength, fresh hope, and iron-hard determination. At worst, she was sure they would glean useful information. Maybe Tabby would call with an exact location for the kidnappers. Maybe it would even turn out to be Shreveport. Or maybe she would spot one of the kidnappers.
She pulled herself together in a way she hadn’t been able to since her son had been abducted. She could do this. It was far better than waiting for hours, maybe days till she heard from the men again.
Before they’d gone to see Arthur, Kenzie had applied makeup to cover the bruises on her face. Now she went through her wardrobe, choosing dark blue skinny jeans and a pair of strappy high heels, adding a white midriff top and big hoop earrings. She threw a spare change of clothes into an overnight bag, grabbed a couple of recent photos of Griff, and she was ready.
So was Reese. Now that he had decided to go along with her idea, he settled in to do it right.
They left the town house, headed for Reese’s apartment so he could pack what he needed. On the way, he pulled into a costume shop, where he bought Kenzie a curly blond wig.
With Halloween coming up the end of next month, the shop also carried colored contact lenses, mostly red or neon yellow, but also brown, blue, and green. Reese bought a pair in dark brown. They were going as a rural couple, they decided, from Pleasant Hill, a town east of Dallas they both knew.
At Reese’s apartment, he disappeared into his bedroom while Kenzie put on the wig. In the beveled mirror in the entry, in her tight jeans and high heels, she looked a little like Olivia Newton-John in the movie version of Grease.
She wasn’t sure why Reese was taking so long until he appeared in worn jeans, a pair of battered cowboy boots, and a snug-fitting sleeveless black T-shirt. His eyes, no longer an intense shade of blue, were a deep dark brown. He had buzzed his hair short around the back and on the sides. Combined with the rough, day-old beard along his jaw, it gave him an edgy, youthful vibe.
He settled a battered straw cowboy hat on his head and tugged it low on his forehead. The handsome executive was gone, replaced by a Southern country boy. He should have looked ridiculous. Instead he just looked hot.
As difficult as things were, as terrified as she was for her son, a wave of heat washed through her that had nothing to do with the near ninety-degree weather outside. It lasted only an instant, followed by a shot of guilt, then fear, when she thought of Griff and what he might be suffering.
Kenzie forced the fear away. If she wanted to find her son, she had to stay focused. Had to keep her mind on the job she was determined to do.
Reese’s deep brown eyes ran over her head to foot. “You look amazing. Considering the reason you’re dressed that way, I’m glad you can’t read my mind.”
She almost smiled. “I can’t believe you cut your hair.”
He shrugged, moving the black T-shirt that hugged his sculpted chest and revealed mouthwatering biceps. “Not a great job,” he said, “but it’ll grow back, and I don’t think anyone’s going to recognize either of us now.”
“Where’d you get the hat and boots?”
Reese just smiled. “Actually, they’re mine. I was wearing them the last time I came back from the ranch.” A place he and his brothers owned in the Hill Country, though Reese didn’t go there often.
“Maybe when this is over,” he said, “the three of us can fly down and I’ll teach Griff to ride.”
Her throat tightened. Would they really be together that long? “He’d love that.”
Serious again, Reese tipped his head toward the door. “We need to get going. We still have to pick up the rental car.”
A black Ford F-150 pickup. Top-of-the-line, with a powerful engine and fancy chrome wheels. It fit their image but wouldn’t really stand out in a town like Shreveport.
Reese turned to grab the overnight bag he had set on the floor and she caught a glimpse of the falcon’s head on his spine, barely visible above the neck of the T-shirt. The tips of the bird’s wings appeared on his shoulders. He looked good. Better than good. But not the least like Reese Garrett, CEO of a billion-dollar corporation.
An hour later the pickup was on its way to Shreveport. Tabby still hadn’t phoned with a location for the origin of the kidnappers’ call, but Kenzie remained hopeful.
And Hawk was there. She hadn’t met Jason “Hawk” Maddox, just talked to him on the phone, but Reese trusted him, and Kenzie trusted Reese.
She leaned back in the seat of the truck and said a prayer that they would find her son.
* * *
There were half a dozen major casinos in Shreveport, plus Harrah’s Louisiana Downs, a casino and racetrack on the east side of town.
ID was required for a hotel room these days and unlike in his criminal youth, Reese no longer had a fake ID. So instead of staying at the casino hotel, he’d made online reservations for a one-bedroom family suite at the Holiday Inn downtown, fairly close to the Pot-of-Gold. He was just turning into the parking lot when his burner phone rang. Chase was on the line.
“What’s up?” Reese asked.
“Heath Ford came to see me. He’s looking for you. Wasn’t able to find you at your office or on your cell.” Big surprise.
“What’s he want?”
“He wants to talk to Kenzie. She’s not home and her grandmother isn’t coughing up her whereabouts. He figures she’s with you. He says if you don’t bring her to the station, he’s putting a BOLO out on both of you.”
“Fuck.” Reese pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine, put the phone on speaker.
“My guess,” Chase said, “Heath’s found out about the life insurance policy—the three million dollars that goes to Griff.”
“Christ, more trouble we don’t need.”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“Can you talk to him?” Reese asked. “Get him to hold off a couple of days?” When Kenzie looked at him with those big golden-brown eyes, everything inside him tightened. “Kenzie has family in Dallas. She isn’t going to run away.”
“Where are you?” Chase asked.
“Shreveport. Hawk’s in town. Guy named Sawyer DeMarco is behind the kidnapping. Owns the Pot-of-Gold casino. Arthur Haines owes DeMarco big money.” He went on to explain how it all fit together, Lee Haines’s murder, the extortion, Daniel Haines, and the gaming permits.
“The mob involvement ratchets up the danger,” Chase said. “You should have called.”
