Her Very Strict Captain

by Carpenter, Maggie

  “Like a charm,” Danny declared. “You’re a genius, Lizzy. I’m going to work.”

  * * *

  The button cameras worn by Scott’s agents inside the house offered a firsthand view of the party. Moving from room to room, the waiters had served spiked drinks to Conchello’s well-dressed wild boys. Many were now sitting down and trying to stay awake, while others had surrendered to the drug and were passed out, slumped on sofas.

  “Everything’s in place. It’s time for me to leave,” Scott declared, rising to his feet.

  “I wish you were armed,” Elizabeth murmured, standing up and handing him his jacket.

  “I’ve got my lethal spray pen and the poison needle cufflinks.”

  “But you can’t hold them out like a gun.”

  “No, but they’re as deadly as a bullet, and they won’t be taken off me when I walk in the door.”

  “Well, there is that,” she admitted. “Just promise me—”

  “I’m always careful,” he interjected as he slipped on the glasses, “and did you forget you’ll be watching and whispering in my ear the whole time?”

  “Not for a second.”

  He sucked in a breath. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting this animal.”

  “I would love to be standing next to you when you clamp those steel bracelets around his wrists,” she declared, then suddenly grabbing his hand, she kissed him on the cheek.

  Not caring Brad was only a few feet away, he planted his mouth on hers, then shooting her a wink, he climbed into the front of the van and left through the driver’s door.

  The night air was surprisingly cool.

  Raising his eyes to the sky, he noticed a hazy ring around the moon. The forecast had called for clear skies, but the tropical weather could be unpredictable. Squaring his shoulders and psyching himself up, he marched across the street, approached the gates, and pushed the call button.

  “Name, please?”

  “Scott Specter.”

  “One moment.”

  Staring up at the noisy house, he spied multicolored lights flashing from a front room. As he listened to the thumping music and boisterous partygoers, he wondered if the neighbors would call the police, then grimaced at the thought. The boys in blue would be a hindrance, not a help. “Please come in, Mr. Specter,” the perky female voice said invitingly. “Richard Hammond will meet you at the front door.”

  The pedestrian gate buzzed. Pushing it open, Scott strode up the driveway, and as he approached the portico, the raucous noise reminded him of the clubs where he once performed in Hollywood, and the rock concerts he and his old bandmates would flock to. Opening the door and stepping inside, he caught sight of a sharply dressed man walking swiftly toward him.

  “Mr. Specter?” he shouted over the din.

  “That’s me,” Scott shouted back.

  “I’m Richard Hammond. Come with me.”

  As they walked through the wide foyer, Scott spied half-naked girls laughing and dancing in a large room off to his left. Flashing back to the parties he’d enjoyed high above Sunset Strip, he couldn’t help but grin.

  “I’ll take you to my favorite dining room,” Richard said, turning down a hallway. “It’s quiet. We can talk properly.”

  “How many are there?” Scott asked as the noise began to fade.

  “Three, but I think this one is the best,” he announced, opening a door.

  “Does your client have a name?” Scott continued as Richard led him to a table.

  “Sonny Conchello, you’ve probably heard of him.”

  “It rings a vague bell,” Scott lied, pleased to see two young men sporting the large rings Danny had described, leaning against the wall bleary-eyed and yawning. “Isn’t he in property development?”

  “Real estate is one of his businesses. Unfortunately, like many powerful men, he’s subject to unfounded rumors.”

  “Hey, I get that too,” Scott exclaimed as Richard sat down, “and I’m just a humble sailing school captain.”

  “As you can see, the buffet is against the wall. I’ve already eaten, but help yourself.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  Taking in his surroundings as he headed to the smorgasbord, Scott noticed two additional doors on either side of the room. Lifting a plate and helping himself to a slice of salmon with dill sauce, jasmine rice, and grilled asparagus, he was heading back to the table when he spotted Ewen MacDonald amble in. Scott glanced at his watch. It read 11:22 p.m. Ewen was supposed to have the money and tracker hidden somewhere inside the VIP room by 11:15 p.m.

  “Would you like some chardonnay?” Richard offered as Scott sat down, pouring wine into a glass without waiting for a reply.

  “No thanks, bottled water will be fine,” Scott replied, still wondering about Ewen. “I have to set sail early in the morning.”

  “Speaking of which, tell me about your charters.”

  “I see Ewen,” Elizabeth murmured in Scott’s ear. “He left the VIP area a few minutes ago, but we couldn’t see him when he was in there. Brad doesn’t know what’s wrong, but we lost the camera feed from their security network. Not for the rest of the house, just Sonny’s private quarters.”

  “What specifically do you want to know, Richard?” Scott asked, praying Ewen had been successful, and the tracker was in place waiting to be turned on.

  “Mr. Conchello’s guests will expect fine dining. Can that be arranged?”

  “If you want luxury yachts, you should look elsewhere. Our trips are about fun in the sun, not diamonds sparkling under chandeliers in the salon.”

  “Ah, here comes Mr. Conchello now,” Richard exclaimed, his eyes darting toward a door at the far end of the room. “You can discuss these things with him personally.”

  But as Richard stood up and leaned across the table to wave to Sonny, his elbow caught the glass of wine, knocking it into Scott’s lap.

  “I’m so dreadfully sorry,” Richard said with a gasp, hastily grabbing a napkin, but as he frantically wiped down Scott’s jacket, he whispered, “Say no to whatever he offers, and get the fuck out of here while you still can.”

  Chapter 33

  Startled by Richard’s unexpected warning, Scott realized the lawyer could be another one who wanted out. Quickly turning his eyes to Sonny Conchello, he found the drug lord impeccably dressed in a pair of white leather loafers, a white shirt with rhinestone buttons, and a pale gray linen suit. He was shorter than Scott expected, and though he moved with an imperious swagger, his steps were comically dwarfish. Closely following were two somber, muscled young men dressed in black.

  They look like they stepped straight out of central casting.

  Pete’s description of the guards behind the house echoed through Scott’s head. Pete had been right.

  “Scott Specter, I’m Sonny Conchello,” Sonny declared as he approached. “You must send in the cleaning bill.”

  “Yes, you must,” Richard agreed, staring at Scott earnestly.

  “Hello, Mr. Conchello. I will if you insist, but I’d rather talk about this proposed charter. From what Richard has just told me, I don’t think Victoria Sailing School is what you’re looking for. My boats aren’t million-dollar luxury yachts with chefs and maid service.”

  “My guests enjoy a more relaxed atmosphere at times. Based on what my assistant saw on your website, she thought your catamarans would be ideal. Leave that,” Sonny declared, glancing down at the table and waving his hand at Scott’s plate. “My personal chef has two Michelin stars and he’s prepared a delicious feast in my private quarters. Join me. We can discuss this in more detail.”

  “I really don’t think my yachts are what you’re looking for,” Scott said, not wanting to give in too easily.

  “You’ll be in the company of some extremely attractive models and actresses,” Sonny continued. “You could end up with more than one keeping you company tonight.”

  “They’d better keep their hands off you.” Elizabeth’s whispered wor
ds made Scott break into a grin.

  “Ah, I see that appeals to you,” Sonny declared, misunderstanding the smile. “I’ll take you up personally. Come along, Richard, you’ll join us as well.”

  While Sonny and Scott had been talking, Richard had sat down at the table and guzzled his wine. As he rose to his feet, Scott could see fear in his eyes.

  “Ewen, what are you doing down here?” Sonny suddenly exclaimed, marching toward him. “Don’t tell me you’re tired of those gorgeous girls already.”

  “Just plain tired, boss,” Ewen replied wearily. “I came in to have a quiet bite to eat before going to my room. Those painkillers Rosemary gave me have worn off.”

  “I have more, and you’ll join us. We all eat together. Scott, meet Ewen MacDonald,” Sonny said as Ewen followed him back to the table. “Forgive his appearance. He had an unfortunate accident.”

  “Scott Specter,” Scott said, shaking Ewen’s hand. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “He’s a tough Aussie,” Sonny interjected. “He’ll bounce back. Come on, everyone.”

  The two ominous bodyguards stood aside as the drug lord strode back to the door through which he’d entered.

  Richard and Ewen fell in step behind him.

  But Scott hesitated.

  A shiver had pricked his skin.

  The bodyguards moved toward him and jerked their heads, silently instructing him to follow Conchello.

  The shiver turned into a chill, and rippled through his entire being.

  * * *

  The staircase to the mezzanine was roped off by a red velvet cord, and two burly men also dressed in black stood on either side. Conchello paid them no attention, but glancing at their eyes, Scott could see they were both drugged and barely holding it together.

  “If you need to make any calls you should do it now,” Richard suggested. “There’s no service in the VIP room.”

  “I was just about to mention that,” Brad said in Scott’s ear. “You won’t be able to set off the tracker. If there’s a jammer up there we might lose the feed from your glasses. I’m trying to find the source of the interference and disable it.”

  “Thanks, Richard,” Scott said casually, pulling his phone from his pocket and placing a call to Elizabeth. “I have to check in with my girl and let her know I’ll be late.”

  “Scott, I’m so glad to talk to you,” she exclaimed, answering on the first ring.

  “Hey, hon, I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I want to sleep late in the morning. Can you set the alarm for me? Make it a few minutes after midday.”

  “Are you asking me to try to set off the tracker just past midnight?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I doubt mine will work up there, but I’ll give it a shot. By the way, Danny’s set up.”

  “Great, thanks. See you when I get home.”

  “I love you.”

  “Back at ya,” he said cheerily as they reached the top of the stairs.

  “Hey, Scott, I need to tell—uh—if—and—”

  But as he entered the VIP area, her voice broke up, then disappeared.

  No cell phone, and the micro transmitter and receiver in his glasses were now dead.

  * * *

  Walking into his private quarters, Conchello was pleased many of his celebrity guests had already left. Most knew the drill. Midnight, and it’s over, but the sexy escorts and a few men still loitered.

  Looking up at the large designer clock on the wall, though it was six minutes short of the witching hour, he strutted across to the huge, ancient gong, lifted the mallet, and swung it against the heavy bronze disc. The low-pitched tone hummed loudly through the room.

  “Time to go, boys and girls,” he exclaimed. “Don’t forget your party favors.”

  Giggling as they picked up the small white boxes sitting on the coffee table, the Barbie doll women sashayed from the room, the eager men they’d been entertaining at their sides. His banker and stockbroker followed, but Sonny quickly stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

  “Not yet,” he said tersely. “Scott, meet my executive team. Miles Swanson is my personal banker, Steven Forsythe takes care of my stock portfolio, and Bryan Hayes on the couch over there is a property developer. He and I will be building a new resort.”

  “Do you still need me, boss?” Ewen asked meekly as Bryan rose to his feet and walked across to join them. “I really am feeling—”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Sonny snapped, cutting him off and scowling at him.

  * * *

  The fear in Ewen’s eyes filled Sonny’s dark heart, but like a ravenous vampire, he always craved more. Bolting the door, he paused to close his eyes and savor the moment. Inside the Chamber of Conscience, Rosemary waited. Together they would watch the men squirm and plead and sob for mercy. Then the dummy representing David Clark and Dan Miller would be sent down the chute.

  Ewen would follow.

  Sonny no longer trusted him.

  His eyes popped open.

  Turning around, he focused on Scott Specter.

  The captain remained a mystery.

  His background check revealed nothing startling.

  He’d been a musician and worked construction as he’d gigged around Los Angeles, then joined the military and became a highly decorated Marine. When he’d left the service he’d landed in the Virgin Islands and launched the sailing school.

  Sonny was convinced there was more to the man.

  Much more.

  He grinned.

  Very soon he’d be hearing all Scott’s secrets, including the whereabouts of Elizabeth McKay.

  Pulling a revolver from a shoulder holster, he gestured toward the chamber.

  “Six bullets, one for each of you,” he began, enjoying the look of dread and shock on their faces. “Whether you live or die is entirely your choice. You might suffer horribly, or not at all. I strongly suggest you cooperate. You’ll walk out none the worse for wear, and richer than when you walked in. Richard, you’re the closest. Open the door to the Chamber of Conscience. The rest of you follow him in and take the seat with your name on it.”

  * * *

  No one ever called Conchello stupid.

  Pete’s words rang through Scott’s head.

  They suddenly made no sense.

  Conchello’s bodyguards were locked out of the room, and Conchello was just one man against six. Though he held a gun he was still outnumbered, but glancing at the other three rooms, Scott realized it was possible soldiers lurked behind their closed doors.

  The giant clock on the wall read 11:57 p.m.

  If Brad could work his magic, in a few minutes the tracker would pull Conchello away, or at least distract him.

  “Hurry up,” Conchello barked as Richard opened the door.

  Hoping he’d have an opportunity to jump Conchello once the others were out of harm’s way, Scott didn’t move.

  “I know you were a Marine,” Conchello snarled, glaring at him, “but don’t think for a minute you’ll get the better of me.”

  “I just don’t understand what the fuck is going on here,” Scott replied, striding confidently toward him, “and just to be clear, I was a SEAL. I can snap your neck in under three seconds, and that would be on a lazy day.”

  Conchello suddenly shot at the floor. “And I can blow out your knees,” he growled. “Now get the fuck in there.”

  Wordlessly turning and heading into the chamber, Scott prepared himself to spin around and take him down, but walking through the door he found a woman lounging in an armchair holding a pistol.

  Rosemary.

  The infamous housekeeper.

  Next to her was the trap door and a tall lever.

  Wearing a red leather dress that did nothing to hide her abundant figure, she appeared much older than Scott had expected.

  “Beneath your chairs you’ll find two pairs of handcuffs,” Conchello began brusquely. “Cuff your ankles to the legs of the chairs. Specter, get the fuck to your
seat or I’ll blow your fucking feet off.”

  But just as the drug lord finished speaking, a loud chirp echoed through the room. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he stared wide-eyed at the screen.

  Scott wanted to cry in triumph.

  The tracker had been triggered.

  “The jammer is neutralized,” Brad said urgently in his ear. “We can see through your micro camera and hear you now.”

  “Listen to me, Specter,” Sonny snarled. “I’ll be less than a minute. When I get back, if you’re not sitting down and cuffed like the rest of those bozos, you’ll suffer like you can’t even fucking imagine. Rosemary, get your pistol ready.”

  “It is already, darling,” she purred, waving it in the air.

  “Don’t kill him, but shoot him as many times as it takes to get him in that chair.”

  “How much fun will that be?” she cackled, standing up and pointing her weapon at Scott’s crotch. “Go on, handsome, be a good boy for Rosemary or you’ll never fuck again, and I bet you’ve got a list of sluts on speed dial who will miss you terribly.”

  “Okay, okay,” Scott said, raising his arms in the air as Conchello hurried from the room.

  “Rosemary, why is Sonny doing this?” The pleading question had come from the banker.

  It was all Scott needed.

  The moment Rosemary glanced away, Scott leapt forward, tackled her to the floor, jerked the gun from her hand, rolled her on top of the trap door, then jumped back and pulled the lever.

  With a bone-chilling, high-pitched shriek, she plummeted down the shaft.

  “What the bloody hell have you done?” Ewen gasped, the only one to speak as the horrified businessmen stared at the opening in the floor.

  “Saved all your asses, now tell me where Conchello is.”

  “The dungeon.”

  * * *

  Conchello had been shocked by the tracker’s unexpected alert, but seeing it came from the BDSM room, a scenario raced through his mind. Ewen had found the cash, somehow smuggled it in when he’d returned, then stashed it during the party. How the tracker had suddenly turned on Sonny had no idea, but he didn’t care.