Flame

by Romig, Aleatha

  “It was a small dose of tranquilizer. I promise it was completely safe.”

  We stilled as Eloise returned with a cart. As she worked, place settings were set before both of us: a plate, a small glass, and a steaming cup of coffee. On the center of the table was a decanter with more of the caffeine-filled liquid with a small pitcher of cream, a larger pitcher of orange juice, and one of ice water. The next additions were various large dishes with silver lids. As she lifted the first lid, my stomach again revealed my hunger as the magic aroma of bacon saturated the fresh air. By the time she was done, our feast included eggs, potatoes, fruit, and an assortment of pastries.

  “Thank you, Eloise,” Marion said dismissively.

  She smiled my direction. “Ms. Miller, if you would prefer anything else or want to request for future breakfasts, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Marion looked my way as the small lines formed near his eyes and his cheeks rose. “Your comfort is our priority. We realize this could be difficult. Of course, I’m here, but know Eloise is also. She’s been with me for a very long time and she wants only our happiness.”

  I looked from one to the next. “Thank you, Eloise. I’m good for today. I don’t believe I’ll be here for too long.”

  She glanced at Marion before nodding and backing away.

  Once she was gone, Marion reached for the platter of meat and offered it my direction. “I certainly hope you’re not a vegetarian. I thought I recalled you having steak in Chicago.”

  Yes, I was hungry. I wasn’t starving. In that I had experience.

  Instead of taking the food, I pushed back the chair and stood. “Marion, what is happening? Why is she saying things about clothes being delivered and future menu choices?”

  He gestured toward the chair I’d just vacated. “Please sit and eat. You missed your dinner last night.”

  I spun toward him, my palms slapping my thighs beneath the long robe. “Your semantics are inaccurate. I didn’t miss dinner. Per you, I was tranquilized. I was never given the opportunity to consume a dinner.”

  He placed an exorbitant pile of bacon upon his plate followed by multiple scoops of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. “I’ve waited for you to wake, but I am a busy man. I’ll eat. You are free to do as you choose.”

  “As I choose? I’m not following along.” I returned to the chair. “Marion, you said you’d help me with my situation with my daughter. I’m not staying here indefinitely. I’m here for your help.”

  He took a bite of his bacon.

  “Are you going to help me with Ruby?” I asked.

  “I am. I said I would.” He tilted his head toward the plate. “Eat and we’ll discuss this.”

  Shaking my head, I added eggs, fruit, and two pieces of bacon to my plate and filled the small glass with ice water. I couldn’t deny it looked and smelled delicious. Marion was also right about the length of time it had been since I’d eaten. As I lifted a forkful of eggs, my stomach again growled. I would have liked to pretend it went unheard, but by Marion’s quick glance and grin, I knew it hadn’t.

  “Tell me about her,” he said, lifting his coffee. “You didn’t mention her while we were in Chicago.”

  “Her? My daughter?” I didn’t need him to nod. I knew who he meant. “She’s beautiful.”

  “As beautiful as her mother?”

  My cheeks filled with warmth, but I didn’t address his comment. Instead, I went on, “I don’t talk about her because she isn’t part of my gambling persona. She’s more important than that.” I sat back and looked him in the eye. “She’s everything to me. By not mentioning her, I can keep her away from the public eye. Marion, I miss her.”

  “What does she enjoy doing?”

  “Everything. She loves to read and she’s quite talented with drawing. Her medium is charcoal. Her instructors even agree that her work is impressive. And her smile...” I went on talking, eating, and sipping coffee. The entire time Marion listened, genuinely listened. It wasn’t until my plate and cup were empty that I sat back. “Please tell me what’s happening.”

  “Let me tell you a story.”

  “Marion—”

  He lifted his hand. “You told me something personal. It’s my turn.”

  “Okay.” I refilled my cup of coffee, added cream, and sat back.

  “I’m sixty-seven years old.”

  Marion Elliott was in good condition for his age. While his skin showed the signs of years in the sun, his body seemed strong and healthy, as if it belonged to a man a decade younger. I presumed it was the result of working on this ranch. “I’ve googled you as I do all of my opponents.”

  “First, little lady, let’s forget that label. I don’t want you to be in opposition to me or vice versa.”

  I sat taller. “Go on.”

  “What I’m about to tell you isn’t on Google or any other search engine. I’ve purposely kept it out of my biographies.” He exhaled. “I believe I did that for the same reason as you with your daughter. What I’m about to say is also more precious to me than all the money...” He tipped his chin toward the corrals, barns, and stables. “...or possessions I could ever accumulate. This isn’t something for the public to discuss or debate. It’s mine.”

  Marion Elliott had my attention.

  “Over thirty years ago my life ended, or should I say I wanted it to.” He took another drink of his coffee. “I lost my wife and daughter in a small plane crash. They were on their way to meet me for a spontaneous vacation near the coast. It wasn’t a long flight. Hell, I had made it the day before to meet with investors. My daughter was fourteen. I should have insisted they come the day before with me, but my daughter didn’t want to miss school. I should have returned and traveled with them. There are many things I should have done. It’s too late for every one of those things.”

  I heard his pain in each word and empathized with his thoughts. We all had things we wish we’d done differently. “Marion, I’m sorry. I had read where you had been married, but there was nothing...”

  “There’s a price for everything. One thing that money is good for is keeping certain things out of the public glare.”

  Ms. Miller, for a moment I thought you were a ghost. I recalled Eloise’s greeting.

  “Was Eloise with you when...then?” Thirty-plus years was most of my life.

  “She was. As you can imagine, we all mourned.”

  “Do I...?” I wasn’t certain how this would sound. “Did she look—?”

  “Like you?” he asked, finishing my question. “Yes and no. Her hair was dark like yours, but in reality, you are more dissimilar than similar. She wasn’t as tall as you and she carried herself in a different manner.”

  “Oh.”

  “I meant that as a compliment, Madeline. She would never have done what you do, going into the spotlight and making a name for herself in poker. If I’m honest, I was fascinated by you—I told you that I entered the Chicago tournament because you were there?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve seen your photos and watched your career. I wanted to meet you because of this.” His gaze moved over me. “You’re incredibly beautiful and yes, you remind me of Trisha. That was why I wanted to meet you. However, after meeting you, seeing you play, watching you, and talking with you, I wasn’t satisfied with a one-tournament introduction. I wanted more. You may recall I invited you here before the final round?”

  “I do. Marion, I’m not in a position to offer you any kind of relationship. I like you.” I did. “Currently, my priority is getting my daughter.”

  “I’ve been made aware of your situation.”

  “You have? What are you aware of?” I asked, sitting straighter.

  “Mr. Ivanov and I have, shall we say, developed a business relationship. I know that the two of you have been...” His lips formed a straight line as he sought the right words. “I know you have history.”

  Beneath the robe, a chill peppered my flesh with goose bumps.

  What did he kn
ow?

  Did he know that Andros purchased me when I was pregnant with Ruby?

  Like a rambunctious filly Marion might sell from one of his stables, I’d been bought to be broken, trained, and rode. I couldn’t verbalize that. “It’s complicated, Marion. Andros has my daughter, and I must get her back.”

  “I believe that deal has been made.”

  “What deal?” I asked.

  Marion stood and as he did, he offered his hand.

  At the gesture, my thoughts went to Patrick. As I accepted Marion’s hand, my free fingers fluttered near my neck.

  I needed to find the necklace.

  “Madeline, I’m not sorry about last night. There were matters not yet finished that were better discussed without you present. I had hoped it would all be set by your arrival. Unexpectedly, you were able to catch a flight quicker than I imagined. Let me just say, allowing you the opportunity to rest was in your best interest.”

  Allowing me to rest was translated as tranquilized.

  “Matters about me?” I asked. “About my daughter? With Andros?” I looked around. “Is he here?”

  “He was, and yes, it was about you and Ruby. I won’t lie to you. It’s something you’ll learn quickly. I’m a straight shooter. I am also not prepared to divulge all the details yet.” He grinned. “I like to keep my cards close to my vest. I’ve already shared more with you than I have with anyone in a long time.

  “I’m many things,” he continued. “A cowboy at heart—perhaps we can go for a ride later today. An oilman—as you’ve no doubt seen the wells. I am also a businessman and a negotiator. When I set my mind on something, I go after it. My mind is set.”

  Retrieving my hand, I took a step back. “On what?”

  “No, little lady. The question is on whom?”

  Patrick

  An hour earlier

  “A helicopter,” I confirmed, watching the live satellite footage. “Follow it.”

  We’d been able to see that Ivanov and a pilot were the only passengers. His other associates had boarded a large car.

  “It appears,” Christian said, looking at security footage from a private airport near Elliott’s ranch, “as though Ivanov’s plane is being fueled. No flight plan filed yet.”

  “He’s in a hurry if he isn’t including his henchmen,” Garrett said.

  “We can’t allow him to move Ruby again,” I said. “We all know that the chances of saving a kidnapping victim decrease when they’re transported.”

  “Kidnapping?” Garrett asked as we both watched the helicopter rise over Elliott’s ranch. “Ivanov has custodial rights. Mr. Murray located the public records affording him those rights. He could argue in court. If we step in, we’re guilty of kidnapping.”

  “Why?” I asked—not to the person I wanted to ask. Madeline’s necklace and phone were both silent.

  “Sir?”

  “Forget the kidnapping,” I said. “Why not adopt Ruby or marry Madeline? I mean, other than the fact that she was still married to me, something she said she never told him. I don’t understand.”

  Garrett shook his head. “There’s no record of Ruby’s birth occurring in a hospital, nothing that can be found in either Illinois or Michigan. Romero is going through neighboring states, but the birth certificate was eventually issued in Michigan.”

  And birth certificates were issued in the state of birth. Garrett didn’t need to say that aloud. We all knew how it worked. “What about Madeline? Any visual confirmation?”

  “No, sir.”

  I paced back and forth within the suite. “If Ivanov boards his plane, he’ll be to Padre Island before us. He already has a head start.”

  “I don’t believe we have the manpower to storm his retreat,” Garrett said. “The ranch has less security. Elliott is wealthy as fuck, but he isn’t paranoid like Ivanov. His security is top of the line but not as secure as I would assume he believes. Ivanov has manpower, most likely armed. Hacking into computers and disabling alarms is easier and safer for Ruby and Ms. Miller.”

  “Once this is all over,” I said, “I’ll recommend that if Elliott wants to continue the company he’s keeping, he should consider adding more men.”

  “My point is,” Garrett said, “the ranch has more potential for a rescue.”

  I stopped and looked again at the helicopter on the screen. “What about Hillman? Is he still on the ranch?”

  “We have no indication that he’s left,” Christian said. “Between here and Chicago, we’ve had eyes on both the ranch and the retreat consistently since yesterday. Until now, the only coming and going is from verified ranch employees.”

  “If Ivanov flies to his retreat, what guarantee do we have that he won’t move her someplace other than the ranch?” I asked aloud. “He has to know Madeline is there. Why hide Ruby from Madeline only to deliver her?” I had more questions than answers.

  “What are our options?” Garrett asked. “Detroit? Mr. Pierce believes he has the location of the bratva command center narrowed down to a few city blocks, but like ours, it’s hidden in plain sight, in a populated area of the city.”

  “I’d like to blow it to ashes,” I said. “But not at the expense of innocent people.”

  Using unsuspecting civilians as shields was part of the world in which we lived. That was why our command center was located near the top of a Chicago skyscraper. The building held thousands of residences as well as hundreds of offices and small businesses. Hell, there was a busy coffee shop on the street level.

  The people who paid big money to rent space or who entered each day for a grande latte had no idea that they were in the same building where the Sparrow outfit ruled the city. It wasn’t as if we had a neon sign or even etched glass as there was at Sparrow Enterprises on Michigan Avenue, the real estate side of Sterling Sparrow’s portfolio.

  That gave me an idea. “What about Ivanov Construction?” I asked. “Where are those offices?”

  Garrett typed into his phone. “I don’t know, but that’s a good question.”

  I sat down near the dining room table and allowed my eyes to momentarily close. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had a good night’s sleep. In the middle of the night last night, I’d succumbed to sleep for nearly three hours. Over the span of the last forty-eight hours, that wasn’t much.

  My mind went over what we knew and what I could learn. I opened my eyes. “I need one of the computers.”

  Christian stood, hitting a few buttons and pushed one of the many laptops my direction. “Can I help?”

  I shook my head as I began accessing the Sparrow servers. “I need to save my wife and daughter and instead of doing that, I’m watching.” I looked up. “That fuck is over.”

  “Sir, Mr. Sparrow—”

  I cut Garrett off. “We’re not storming the ranch or retreat. Everyone has their talents. Mine is simple and up until now, I’ve been letting others do their specialties.”

  Garrett’s lips turned upward. “Money.”

  “Fuck yes,” I said. “We need to locate that missing fifteen million, and on top of that, I want in-depth research on all the players here: Ivanov, Hillman, and Elliott. We know that back in Chicago, Leonardo’s and Madeline’s rooms were paid with shell corporations. Hillman’s was too. Dig. Somewhere there’s a flaw in their trail. You start on that, and I’m going to check out Elliott. Is he as wealthy as he acts? Where does his money come from, and has he spent any significant amounts recently?”

  I lifted my phone and sent a text to Mason.

  WE’RE ON THE MONEY TRAIL. I COULD USE YOUR HELP WITH THE DARK SIDE OF THE WEB. I CAN ACCESS, BUT IT APPEARS IVANOV’S DEALINGS ARE MOSTLY IN RUSSIAN.

  For a man who started as a kid from the South Side of Chicago, Mason had an uncanny ability in linguistics—reading, writing, and speaking. He’d be a hell of a lot faster than translation programs.

  Mason replied.

  ON IT.

  “Mr. Kelly?” Romero said. “Flight plan has been filed. Ivanov
is headed to Detroit.”

  I sat back and took my eyes off the computer before me. “He’s leaving both of them?”

  “That’s how it appears.”

  “Why?”

  My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I looked at the screen: SPARROW.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Wanted to let you know there’s been some action in Detroit.”

  I stood and walked toward the fourth bedroom. “Action—like what?”

  “Distractions. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of damage to a construction site.”

  A smile came to my lips. “That sounds terrible.”

  “No casualties, but a crane fell this morning, damaging the structure under construction.”

  “What company had this bad luck?” I asked.

  “Ivanov Construction.” Sparrow said. “Would you like to hear the rest of the story?”

  “Yes.”

  “The subcontractor was McFadden Construction. It was. The name was recently changed to Great Lakes.”

  I let out a sigh. “Yeah, most people don’t want to do business with a corrupt politician’s company, one convicted in human trafficking. They do have their limits.”

  “And a fire broke out in a warehouse,” Sparrow said, “near the docks in Detroit. It appears that the crates were supposed to contain construction materials. ATF, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, is on the scene.”

  “Why?”

  “Construction materials shouldn’t explode,” Sparrow said. “It appears, according to the news outlets, that the containers were filled with firearms.”

  “Who owns the containers?”

  “The same shell company that paid Madeline’s hotel bill.”

  I let out a long breath. “No wonder Ivanov is headed back to Detroit.”

  “Diversions can work both ways. Get ready, Patrick. You have a family to collect.”

  “Thank you, Sparrow.”

  “Not yet.”

  Madeline