by Caila Jaynes
As they stood in the foyer of Claire Parker’s Georgetown condo building, Jeremy rang the buzzer for her unit while Grayson stood at the entrance door and looked up and down the street. Condos any larger than a studio apartment ran upward of a million dollars in this part of the city, and the info they had indicated Claire’s was one of three on the top floor, a penthouse unit.
When there was no answer, Jeremy shrugged. “Must not be home. Maybe she’s at church?” After all, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“Nah,” Grayson said. “Eli said she’s a law student at Georgetown. How much you want to bet she’s at the law library? Let’s head over to the campus.”
“Shouldn’t one of us stay here?”
Grayson shook his head. “I might need your help tracking her down. We can have Metro Police watch the block.”
He placed a call to Joanne, their admin at Phoenix.
“Jo,” he said when she answered, knowing the nickname would annoy her. “Jeremy and I struck out at Claire Parker’s home. Can you have Metro send over a black-and-white to watch out for her?”
“Grayson,” Joanne said pointedly, using his full name in the way she always did. It drove the guys on the task force nuts, especially Eli, who never failed to wince when she referred to him by his given name. “I’ll be happy to take care of that for you. Where shall I tell Elias you’ll be? He wants to speak with you.”
“No need. I’ll give him a call.”
Back inside the Suburban, Grayson dialed Eli’s cell and placed the call on speaker.
“I was just about to call you, Gray. Claire Parker’s name came up on the manifest of a flight from Jacksonville.”
“The flight’s in the air now?”
“Yes. It’ll be landing at Reagan National at two. We learned her father’s driver was scheduled to pick her up, so we made arrangements with him that will help bring the girl into our custody after she gets off the plane.”
As he and Jeremy listened to Eli’s plan, Grayson’s gaze shot to the clock on the dashboard. They’d just be able to make it. He pulled the Suburban away from the curb and sped toward the airport.
“How could someone want to ransom his own girlfriend?” Jeremy said. “That’s nothing short of brutal.”
“Agreed. I’m texting you both a picture of Miss Parker,” Eli said, then hung up.
Jeremy’s phone pinged, and he pulled it from his pocket and let out a low whistle before he tipped it toward Grayson. At the next red light, Grayson turned his head to glance at Claire’s picture. She was beautiful with long auburn hair, high cheekbones, and intriguing amber-toned brown eyes.
“It shouldn’t be hard finding a looker like her,” Jeremy said.
Grayson nodded and returned his gaze to the road. He’d need to hustle if they were going to be able to put their plan in motion before her flight landed.
Chapter Fourteen
All through her flight back to DC, Claire’s thoughts pinged around inside her head like the steel ball in an arcade game. Gabe’s mention of marriage had shocked her, forcing her to pick apart her relationship with him.
Am I with him for the right reasons?
Gabe was handsome, wealthy, successful, and he spoiled her. What wasn’t there to like?
How about he’s moody, self-absorbed, and selfish in bed? a little voice inside her suggested. And you really have nothing in common.
Stop it, she told herself. You’re being ridiculous. He’s a good man.
Any other woman would be thrilled to date him. But was she with him because she truly loved him, or because her parents had pushed them together?
Her anxiety ratcheted even higher when turbulence rocked the plane as they flew over Georgia. When the plane leveled out, she forced herself to stop her worrying and turned her thoughts to her upcoming week. No matter what, she had to ensure she wouldn’t miss any more meetings related to Chris’s case. She’d do whatever she could to make sure he stayed out of prison.
Once the plane had landed, Claire made a quick detour to the Starbucks counter before following her fellow passengers to baggage claim, searching for Fred’s familiar smiling face. He always waited for her near the same exit door in baggage claim, but instead, she spotted a burly young man about her own age who held a sign aloft with Claire Parker handwritten in large bold letters. Rather than wearing a dark suit and tie as Fred normally did, the man was dressed in jeans and a Henley.
Lucky for him, I’m not my mother. She’d have him fired for showing up to pick her up like that.
Clutching the cardboard tray holding the drinks she’d purchased, she approached the man and frowned. “I’m Claire. Fred wasn’t available?”
The man lowered the sign he was holding. “No, ma’am. The senator’s service sent me instead.”
Disappointed, Claire nodded. It wasn’t the first time Fred had been unavailable for her. Since her father was out of town, odds were Fred was either busy driving a senior staffer to an event, or was taking some much-deserved time off with his grandchildren.
While they waited for her luggage, Claire sent a quick text to Gabe, letting him know she’d arrived. He was still on the golf course, so she didn’t bother waiting for a reply before returning her phone to her purse.
Once the new driver had plucked her suitcase off the carousel, she handed him her tote to carry and followed him to the parking garage. She shivered in her lightweight blazer as they walked, the autumn air here chillier than the Florida heat she’d left behind two hours ago.
When the driver led her to a town car parked near the elevator on the first level, Claire frowned as she recognized the scratch on its side. “Fred is letting you use his car?”
The driver’s eyes widened slightly before he handed her the tote and turned to open the back door for her. “I’m new and haven’t been assigned my own car yet.”
“What’s your name?”
“Uh, Jeremy,” he said, seeming surprised.
“I’m Claire, and this is for you.” She handed him the cup of coffee meant for Fred.
“What’s this?”
“Americano, two sugars, one cream,” she said with a small smile. “It’s what Fred likes, so I hope you like it too.”
The driver gave her a confused look but mumbled his thanks as he set the coffee on the roof of the car so he could load her suitcase into the trunk. She situated herself in the backseat, placing her tote and purse on the seat next to her before glancing at the time on her phone.
What were the chances that Professor Moore was in her office? Pretty good, even though it was a Sunday; the woman practically lived on campus. If Claire could have a chance to apologize in person, it might help defuse the woman’s anger and would mean one less thing to worry about that week.
“I need to stop at Georgetown University first,” she said as the driver got behind the wheel.
He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Claire sat forward in her seat, maintaining eye contact until he nodded before looking away to retrieve his parking voucher from the sun visor.
What was going on? What was that look he’d given her?
She looked out the window and shook her head. Nothing was going on. Her anxiety about facing Professor Moore was just making her crazy.
Hoping to get some work done on the ride to campus, Claire pulled one of her textbooks from her tote and sipped at the green tea she’d bought for herself.
Minutes later, she looked up from her reading to find the driver was turning south on I-395 rather than crossing the bridge into DC. Why hadn’t he turned north?
Panic spread through her as she turned around in her seat to look behind them. He’d completely missed the entrance ramp. Had it been by accident or on purpose? The fine hairs rising on the back of her neck told her it was the latter.
“We’re going the wrong way!”
The driver glanced at Claire in the rearview mirror but didn’t respond as he took the exit to a park, then pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder in a grassy area
surrounded by trees and not much else.
Claire sucked in a surprised breath when he turned off the engine. This was completely wrong. She’d expected him to turn around. Whipping her head back and forth, she saw no reason for the driver to have detoured from their route.
“Is something wrong with the car?” she asked, setting aside her tea. “Why did you pull over here?”
Gravel crunched as a dark SUV pulled up and parked just ahead of them, setting off alarm bells inside her head.
Why does the driver really have Fred’s car? Has he hurt Fred?
Her heart pounding, she jerked off her seat belt and reached for the handle to shove open her door, preparing to run.
“Wait, Miss Parker.” The driver turned in his seat and caught her eye before pointing out the windshield. “He’s a government agent, and so am I.”
The adrenaline shooting through Claire’s system lessened only slightly as her gaze zeroed in on the tall, well-built man who stepped out of the SUV and approached the town car.
“What’s going on?” she asked, keeping a death grip on the door handle.
Before the driver could respond, the other man arrived at Claire’s window and tapped on it. With trembling fingers, she reached for the window button and pressed it, her heart hammering as the tinted glass slid down slowly.
“Miss Parker, I’m Grayson Matthews.”
Claire’s breath caught as she stared upward into his handsome face, taking in his upper lip and jaw dusted with a shadow of scruff. The man’s dark brows lowered over his sharp green gaze, freezing her in place as he pulled out a leather wallet and extended a silver badge, holding it for her perusal with lean, tanned fingers before returning it to his back pocket. The driver pulled out his credentials as well and held them over the seat back as she scanned them.
“I’m a federal agent with the Phoenix Task Force.” Agent Matthews gestured toward his colleague still in the driver’s seat. “And that’s Agent Cox.”
Confused, she gaped up at him, his military bearing and impressive physique both intimidating and extremely attractive. The unexpected warmth zinging through Claire’s body dissipated as her thoughts spun, reeling until one slipped into place with a click. Her panic returned with renewed force and she gasped.
“My parents, are they all right?”
The agent looking down at her frowned. “You’re the one who’s in danger. Someone is trying to abduct you.”
“Wait . . . what?”
Even after he repeated himself, Claire still struggled to make sense of his words. Why in the world would anyone want to abduct her? Her father could be a potential target since he was a senator, but she wasn’t anyone important.
Squinting up at him, she said, “I don’t understand.”
“We’re going to tell you everything we can, but first, we need you to come with us. We’re not sure when the kidnapping was supposed to take place, so we need to get you to a safe house.”
A safe house?
Her heart pounding, Claire stared at him, trying to decide what to do.
Apparently sensing her distress, Agent Matthews softened his expression and leaned closer, his voice gentle as he said, “Trust me.”
Her decision made, Claire grabbed her purse and tote and stepped out of the car on shaky legs.
For a fleeting moment, she imagined the sexy-as-hell man standing next to her in combat fatigues. Maybe her flight of fancy was because she was about to lose it, or maybe it was simply his short haircut and erect posture, that military bearing ingrained in soldiers they never seemed to lose, even after leaving the service. His broad shoulders and muscular physique hinted at a toned body beneath the leather bomber jacket, button-down shirt, and khakis he wore. The shoulder holster she glimpsed under his jacket only added to the allure rather than detract from it.
And wow, was he tall. Men didn’t usually dwarf her five-foot-eight-inch frame, but Agent Matthews stood a few inches taller than Claire, and she was wearing heels. She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.
He gestured toward the SUV. “Fred has been very helpful.”
Claire turned and nearly sagged with relief when she caught sight of Fred climbing out of the Suburban’s backseat. The thought of him possibly being hurt had devastated her. The portly gray-haired man raised a hand in a wave, an encouraging smile on his face.
Claire’s mind spun with questions as she wet her dry lips. “The kidnappers want a ransom?”
A muscle pulsed in Agent Matthews’s jaw. “That’s the likely motive, yes.”
Her hands shaking, she took her phone from her purse. “I need to call my parents.”
“That’s another thing.” He nodded toward her phone. “I’ll need to take that. Someone could be tracking you through it.”
Claire blinked in surprise as she stared down at the device in her hand.
“We need to shut it down,” he repeated as he pulled his own phone from his pocket. “You can use mine to call your parents while Agent Cox and I do a quick search through your things for any tracking devices.”
Is this really happening? Struck dumb, she merely stared at Agent Matthews for a moment as he plucked her purse and tote from her grip and handed them to Agent Cox.
“But the number I need . . . it’s in my phone.”
“Take a minute and copy down the numbers you’ll need.” He tucked his phone back inside his pocket, and he and Agent Cox headed toward the town car’s trunk.
Fred walked over, his brow pinched with concern. “Are you all right, Claire?”
“I need to get some numbers from my phone,” she said as he gave her a hug. “The agents want me to shut it down.”
“Want some paper? Something to write with?”
The thoughtful gesture, so typical of Fred, evoked a surge of emotion. Tears pricked her eyes as she whispered, “Please.”
Who knows anyone’s number by heart these days? Used to simply selecting their contacts on her phone, she’d never memorized anyone’s phone number.
Claire swallowed around a lump in her throat as he took a notepad and pen from his suit jacket and handed them over. Forcing her mind to work, she copied down her parents’ cell phone numbers and then Gabe’s.
The agents came back just as she finished, and Agent Matthews returned her purse and tote. Reluctantly, she gave him her phone, and he powered it down before removing its battery, then slid both into his own pocket.
The younger agent, Cox, was holding the box Gabe had given her. “You have a satellite phone?”
“It’s a gift for my parents.”
He examined the shrink-wrap still encasing the package. “Not activated?”
“No. It’s not.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
Claire resisted the shiver that threatened to creep up her spine as she gave him a nod.
“All finished?” Agent Matthews asked him.
“Yeah,” Cox said. “Everything else looks good. I’ll get her suitcase into the Suburban.”
Agent Matthews turned back to Claire. “We need to head out.”
When she froze for a second, Fred met her gaze with an unspoken question. Will you be all right?
Because she didn’t trust her voice, she gave Fred a jerky nod and he hugged her again. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning on him for support for a moment as her mind spun. He patted her back, much like he would a child’s, doing his best to comfort her. The expression on his face when he released her was practically fatherly.
“Stay safe.”
“I will,” she whispered.
Agent Matthews gave Fred a warning look. “Remember what we told you. No one’s to know Claire is in our custody. Her life may depend on it.”
Fred nodded. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I took her home.”
“That works.” Matthews gave Fred a nod of approval, then took Claire’s elbow and guided her toward the SUV, gesturing for her to take the front passenger seat.
Once they were all seated insi
de, she asked, “Can I use your phone now?”
Matthews started the vehicle and then handed his phone over. “It’s the only call we’ll be able to let you make for a while.”
Claire opened the notepad Fred had given her and entered the number for her father. When the call went straight to his voice mail, she thought quickly and left a short message telling him she’d arrived home safely. She decided not to mention the safe house, not wanting to worry her parents. They wouldn’t be able to reach her anyway.
“No luck?” Agent Matthews asked as she lowered the phone.
“No. They’re on the campaign trail, doing back-to-back events. My father probably won’t check his phone for hours.”
Claire’s heart was heavy as she handed the phone back and gazed out the window. “Where’s the safe house?”
“Springfield, Virginia,” Agent Cox said from the backseat.
She bit at her lip, thinking. That was about half an hour away.
Agent Matthews made a turn several seconds later, and a terrifying thought seized Claire. What if these men were the kidnappers? What if they’d made up this entire story to get her to go with them?
Just like that, she’d believed them and had gotten into their car. Yes, the men had shown her their badges, but what if they were fakes? What if they’d fooled not only her, but Fred too?
Memories of the abduction-avoidance workshop her father had sent her to years ago came flooding back. He’d been convinced that Claire being the only child of a wealthy family—and the daughter of a newly elected US senator—made her a target for kidnapping and ransom, and was determined she learn all she could to protect herself. So her junior year in high school, her father had enrolled her in a two-day workshop.
Prediction, prevention, and response . . . those were the concepts that had been drilled into Claire’s head. The first two were out of her control at the moment, but the third wasn’t.
Bile rose to her throat, and she swallowed hard. “I need a restroom.”
Matthews gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t slow down. “It’s better if we don’t stop.”