It hadn’t escaped my attention that he wasn’t using the armed henchmen to further intimidate me. I was a little surprised he hadn’t ordered them to put their guns in my face after my tantrum comment.
“Is your ego really that enormous? Because I’m surprised you can fit in any indoor space and still take it with you.”
“This isn’t about ego,” he said. “It’s about what’s mine.”
“You realize those two statements essentially negate each other.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Never mind. Bobby, you’re the only child of a billionaire. You already have a trust fund that must be enormous and you’re going to inherit your father’s wealth someday. You don’t need to own Spencer to live exactly the kind of life you’ve been living until you die of an untreated STD. Or from falling off your yacht when you’re too drunk to swim and everyone partying with you is too high to notice.”
He snorted. “Yeah, if only that were true.”
I exchanged a confused glance with Inda. “Which part?”
“I’m not inheriting shit from my father. He’s leaving all his money to some fucking charitable foundation. And my trust fund isn’t going to last. The old man’s being a dick and says he won’t give me more money.”
“You’re thirty-six. How did you blow through your entire trust fund already?”
He shrugged. “Being an entrepreneur isn’t cheap. Most businesses fail, that’s just how it goes. I took some hard losses.”
“Like when you bought a dilapidated hotel to refurbish and then abandoned the project because you got bored?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
I decided not to mention that the failure rate for new businesses was one hundred percent if you didn’t put in any actual work.
“Since we’re apparently doing the thing where you spill your guts and tell me all your diabolical plans, will you explain something to me?” I asked.
“Yeah, but we need to hurry this up. The boss man is going to be here any minute to sign his part of the agreement.”
“We’re coming back to the part about a boss man in a second, but why did you have me attacked? Why try to hit me with a car? Why break in to my house? I don’t understand how any of that was supposed to get me to sign the company over to you.”
“It’s not complicated, Cami,” he said. “Me and some buddies came up with the plan. We figured if we scared you enough, it would be easy to convince you to back down and give me what I want.”
Turning my head, I exchanged another look with Inda.
“That plan is terrible.”
“No, it would have worked. But you had to fuck it up by hiring that goddamn bodyguard.”
There wasn’t any point in arguing with him over the idiocy of his plan, although it didn’t make any sense. I shifted in the chair, trying to find a way to ease the growing ache in my legs from the way I was sitting and the fact that I couldn’t move.
“So you had me kidnapped. I suppose it was those guys who were following me this morning?” I nodded toward the armed henchman, who stood silently by a wall. “And they trashed my office and planted a bug?”
“A bug?” he asked. “I didn’t have them plant a bug. But holy shit, Cami, these guys are so legit. They broke into Spencer headquarters, can you believe it? I told them how I got into your house and I thought they would have been more impressed, but whatever. These guys are fucking professionals. It’s costing me a fortune, but it won’t matter because I’m about to own a multi-billion-dollar corporation.”
“No, you’re not.”
He chuckled. “Uh, yeah, I am.”
“Even if I do sign that, which I won’t, it’ll be under duress. That won’t be a valid contract.”
“Whatever, I have amazing lawyers. That’s part of what I bought by partnering with the Russians.”
Boss man. Sign his part of the agreement. Partnering with the Russians. I felt the color drain from my face. This wasn’t just Bobby the douchebag doing something crazy and stupid. He hadn’t just hired a group of professional criminals to help him with his half-cocked plot to steal ownership of the company.
He was selling his soul to the Russian mob. And he had no idea what he’d gotten us into.
My brain chose that moment to remind me that Jude didn’t know I was gone. And I’d left my phone in my bedroom.
He had no way of knowing where I was. If he even realized I was gone in time.
Panic was starting to win.
“Oh god, Bobby, what have you done?”
“Well, I have shit to do, and I really want to get out to Fort Lauderdale tonight,” he said, ignoring me. “There’s supposed to be this badass party. Everyone’s going to be there.” He walked to the table and pulled a stack of paperwork out of the envelope, then pushed it toward me. He picked up the pen and held it out.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked. “I’m tied to a chair.”
“Shit, I hadn’t thought about how we were going to do this part.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, can you guys untie one of her arms or something?”
The henchmen shared a look—I briefly imagined them doing some sort of mental rock paper scissors—then one of them headed our direction.
My mind raced. What could I do with one arm free and the rest of me tied to a chair? Not much. Even if I did get in a good shot against the henchman while he untied me, the other one was armed, and there were more close by.
As if to remind me of that fact, four more armed men filed into the room. Bobby turned and plastered a douchey smile on his face while a man in an exquisitely tailored suit walked in.
The boss man.
I’d never seen him before, but I didn’t need to know his name to know he was in charge. People in power often had a look about them. They moved a certain way, as if they had utter confidence that their every word would be heeded without question.
If this guy was the head of the Russian mafia in Miami, he was probably right.
He stopped, his eyes moving from the contract, to me, to his henchman, then to Bobby. “What’s going on here?” His Russian accent was obvious, although he spoke English well. “Why the delay?”
“Sorry,” Bobby said. “I’ve just been having a little chat with my Cami. She’s ready to sign.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Cameron,” Inda hissed.
“I’m not signing that.”
The boss man—he hadn’t offered his name, so I didn’t know what to call him—stared at me, his face expressionless. He had slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair that was long enough to curl at the back of his neck. Thick beard, mostly gray. And blue, blue eyes, as icy as a glacier.
He was terrifying.
“Of course you’re going to sign it,” he said.
“How much is he paying you?” I asked. “Maybe we can come to an arrangement.”
Was I really going to pay off the Russian mafia to get me out of this situation? Yes, I probably was. Depending on his terms.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re very beautiful, aren’t you? Had things been different, I would have loved to do business with you directly.”
“Why can’t we? Nothing is final until the signatures are dry.”
“Cami, just sign it,” Bobby said, lowering his voice. “Then we can let you go.”
The boss man didn’t take his eyes off me. “We’re not letting her go.”
“What?” Bobby asked. “Yes, we are.”
“No. That’s not possible. She and her little friend are loose ends. I’m afraid the lovely Ms. Whitbury is going to suffer an unfortunate accident.”
“You’re going to kill her?” Bobby asked, his voice rising. “Hold on a second. You never said anything about killing her.”
“It’s not your concern,” he said.
“Yes it is. I need her. She saved the company from going under. I need her to run it.”
“We’ll find a suitable replacement,” the boss man said.
/>
“That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it?” I asked, ignoring Bobby’s reddening face. “It’s not about what he’s paying you. If he owns Spencer, and you own him, suddenly the Russian mafia has an aerospace empire.”
“No, that wasn’t the deal,” Bobby said, taking a step toward the boss man. The henchmen all closed in and Bobby held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get it. But you did not tell me you were going to kill Cameron.”
The boss man’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Yes? Understood.” He pocketed his phone and turned to Bobby. “I have to take care of something. I’ll be back.”
Bobby watched, open-mouthed, as the boss man and two of his men walked out of the broken-down hotel suite. Four stayed behind, with three of them taking up positions near the door.
“What are we going to do?” Inda whispered.
“I don’t know.”
The fourth henchman pulled a knife out of his pocket and came toward me.
“Wait,” Bobby said, holding out a hand. “Just give me a second to talk to her before you do that, okay? I want to make sure she’s going to cooperate. Trust me, I’ve got this. We’ve been friends since second grade.”
The henchman hesitated for a second, then put his knife away. He went back to stand with the others.
Bobby glanced around then leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Cami, I swear to god, he never said anything about killing you. You were supposed to sign and then they’d do the bag on your head thing and dump you somewhere so you could get home.”
“Well, you hired the fucking Russian mafia, so I don’t know what else you expected.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He looked around frantically, then turned to me again. “I’ll go for help.”
“What?” I whispered.
“Just stay here. I’ll get you out of this. We can talk about the company later.”
I watched with disbelief as Bobby tugged on the lapels of his jacket and sauntered toward the door.
“Bathroom,” he said, gesturing out to the hallway. “I don’t think the one in here is even hooked up. But I have to take a shit the size of a Coke right now, and trust me, you do not want me to hold it or I’m going to burn the nose hairs off everyone on this floor. The can in the lobby still works. I’ll be right back.”
The henchmen exchanged irritated glances, then one nodded for him to go.
I looked at Inda and I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Held captive by the Russian mafia in a dilapidated hotel and Bobby Spencer—the dumbass who’d orchestrated the whole thing—was our best hope of rescue?
Yeah, we were fucked.
33
Jude
Cameron’s phone seemed to stare back at me, the glossy rectangle sending a spike of alarm through my entire body.
She wasn’t here.
With a deep breath, I banished the panic. I was good in a crisis. Calm. Cold when it was necessary. I drew on my training and years of experience to push aside the fear that something bad had happened to her.
Besides, just because she’d left her phone behind didn’t mean she was in danger.
A voice in the back of my head screamed at me that she was. She was in danger, right fucking now, and I needed to get to her.
My instincts had gone haywire, and I knew exactly why. I’d been compromised. I loved her and it was making me irrational.
Logic. No emotion. Focus on the mission.
I grabbed her phone and stuffed it in my pocket, then jogged downstairs.
“Nicholas,” I called.
He was still in the kitchen. Meat sizzled in a pan on the stove and if I’d been in a normal state of mind, my stomach would have growled at the mouthwatering aroma.
“Yeah?”
My voice was completely calm. “Cameron left her phone. Would you mind calling Inda? I really need to talk to Cameron.”
“I’m sure they won’t be gone too long,” he said, stirring the meat.
“Just call her.”
He stopped stirring, his eyes lifting. “Okay, man. Sorry.”
I took slow breaths while he pulled out his phone and called his wife.
The seconds ticked by and I could tell she wasn’t answering. He turned off the burner and moved the pan.
“That’s weird,” he said. “Her voicemail picked up. Should I leave a message?”
“No. I’m going to look for them.” I headed straight for the front door.
Nicholas followed. “Dude, you’re freaking me out right now. They just went down to the village. They haven’t even been gone very long.”
“I know.” I locked the front door behind us and bounded down the porch steps.
“Then why are you acting like this is an emergency?”
“Because it might be.” I got on my bike. “And if it is, we’re losing time. Are you coming?”
“Crap,” he muttered, and got on behind me.
The two of us barely fit on my bike, but we didn’t have far to go. We followed Cameron’s driveway out to the street, then crossed the bridge over the canal. The road wound around and the village came into sight up ahead.
Cameron’s golf cart was in the middle of the street. Empty.
I stopped the bike and we both jumped off. Nicholas was babbling something, but I ignored him. I took in the scene, looking at every detail. No sign that they’d been hit. No tire marks or tracks. The foliage on either side of the road was undisturbed.
“Inda’s phone,” Nicholas said, holding it up. “She must have dropped it. Should we go look down at the Tiki Hut?”
I checked the golf cart again and realized the almost silent electric motor was still running. They hadn’t broken down and left it here. They might not have stopped intentionally at all.
“No. Someone took them.”
“Shit, are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“What are we going to do?” he asked. “Call the police?”
“Cops are too slow.”
“How are we going to figure out where they are?” he asked. “Is there another way to track them?”
I glanced up from my phone. Nicholas was a chef, not an intelligence operative. He wasn’t even former IDF, like his wife. But his face was determined, his voice calm. He could help.
“If my instincts were correct, there might be.” I opened the tracking app Cameron didn’t know I had. A little red dot appeared on the map. It wasn’t far—in Coconut Grove—but it wasn’t here in Bluewater. “Thank fuck.”
“What? Is that them?”
“Should be.”
“Did you implant a bug in her or something?” he asked.
“No, in her shoes.”
“Her shoes? She has like a hundred pairs. You bugged them all?”
“Nope. Just a few.” I pocketed my phone and got back on my bike. “She picks her shoes based on her mood. I figured if I ever needed this, it’d be because she was either trying to ditch me or she was pissed at me. Either way, I bugged a few of her boldest pairs of shoes as a precaution.”
He got on behind me.
“You bugged the shoes you’d thought she’d wear if she was mad or trying to ditch you?”
“Exactly,” I said over the roar of the engine. “And I was right.”
* * *
This was a rescue operation with two women as the target. Once the extraction was complete, I wouldn’t be able to fit them on my bike—Nicholas and I barely fit—so I had to go back to get Cameron’s car.
Nicholas insisted on coming with me and I didn’t argue. His wife was missing. A man needed to be able to protect—and rescue—his woman when necessary. I wasn’t going to deny him that.
As long as he stayed calm, and stayed out of my way.
The little dot on my tracking app hadn’t moved. That was neutral information. It was good if it meant they weren’t being moved. A moving target would be more difficult to apprehend than a stationary one. But it coul
d also mean her shoe—the left one, specifically—was no longer on her foot, and I was tracking a piece of clothing, not Cameron.
No way to tell until we got there.
We drove toward the location on the map. The sun was setting, the sky gradually transitioning to darkness. I didn’t speed or cut through traffic. I drove her car as if nothing was wrong. It’s what I’d been trained to do. Never call attention to yourself. Appear normal.
Nicholas cleared his throat. “Are you armed?”
“No.”
“Should you be?
“I no longer own a firearm,” I said. “And despite what you’ve seen in action movies, a lone man with a gun isn’t very effective against multiple enemies.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll know when we get there.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Shouldn’t we have a plan or something?”
“I have a plan. Find them. Get them out. I’ll make up the details as we go.” I glanced at him. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.”
“You’re kind of scary when you’re like this.”
“This is a mission now. And they fucked with the wrong guy.”
The tracker in Cameron’s shoe led us to a rundown hotel. Metal scaffolding crawled up the side of the building and a makeshift awning protected the sidewalk. It looked like it was under construction—or had been. I didn’t see any sign that a crew had been here recently. No trucks or equipment. I circled around to a street that led behind the building, looking for a loading dock or place for deliveries.
Several cars were parked in the loading zone. None of them were construction vehicles.
One was a bright yellow Lamborghini Huracan with a giant spoiler on the back. Good for speed enthusiasts. Perfect for show-offs. That had to be Bobby Spencer’s car.
I wanted to pop that fucker’s head like a tick, but he was a secondary concern.
The other cars were black SUVs. Tinted windows. Probably bulletproof.
I parked a short distance back. I couldn’t tell by the make of the SUVs who we were dealing with. The building looked abandoned, so it could be a regular meeting spot. Or Bobby had hired more than just a crew to pull off a kidnapping.
The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy Page 23