Reed did a double take to make sure he saw who said those words.
Yep, Neil.
“Says the man of so many words,” Rick teased.
“He’s plotting something.”
“That’s two sentences in less than a minute. You feeling okay?” Reed asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.
Neil stopped him with a stare.
“I say we send somebody in.”
“Do you have a death wish? Petrov doesn’t play by any rules,” Reed said.
“He has a point, Neil.”
“We sit and do nothing?”
“Lori’s spontaneous trip this weekend can be one of many to keep her out of harm’s way.”
Reed looked up. “Where . . . ah, where did she go?” God, he hated being on the outside of her life.
Neil and Rick exchanged words with their eyes.
“Fine. Is she okay?”
Another pass of body language.
“Any more from Sasha?” Rick asked.
“That woman is mist. You feel her in the air but can’t see her.” Reed’s only saving grace in the entire situation was that with all the contacts and toys these men had, they had yet to find Sasha either. He couldn’t help but think the only reason he was still in the mix was because the woman had the propensity to contact him. “You can bet one thing about her. She’s the nail in Petrov’s armor. If he learns of her, he’ll either use her for his own gain or eliminate her.”
“You think she has something on Petrov?” Rick asked.
“Not sure about that, but my guess is she has information he wants.”
And no matter what Reed thought of the woman, she didn’t deserve to die.
“My guess is she knows that.”
“Hence the mist,” Reed said. “Much as I want to find the woman, I’m afraid that will just lead Petrov to her. And my karma can’t take any more women hating me.”
He was pretty sure Neil cracked a smile.
It was brief.
Rick looked at his watch. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked Neil.
His eyes shot to the clock in the hall, he muttered something, and double-timed his step out of the house.
“What fire makes that man move so fast?” Reed asked.
“His daughter has a ballet performance this afternoon.” Rick raised his hand about three feet off the ground. “Adorable. Gwen would have his nuts in a vise if he missed it for anything but life or limb.”
“Gwen?” Reed asked.
“Gwen’s the wife.” Rick stood. “Which reminds me of mine. And as great as your company is . . . there is someone much prettier that needs my attention.”
Reed was surprised they left him in the Tarzana home alone. Even if all the rooms were wired, and someone, somewhere, watched. Since he’d only really seen the downstairs, he took his time looking around. Upstairs, there was an office and two bedrooms.
The hallway walls were trimmed with black-and-white images. He recognized Sam center stage in one wedding photo, and then again in another with the same groom. “You must be Blake,” he said to the image. There was a picture of a German shepherd among the photos of the people. He recognized the former governor and his wife. Neil was hard to miss, but the expression on his face was one Reed never thought he’d see. He was staring down at a runway ready blonde. “Damn, Neil. I’m impressed.”
On the other wall were several different couples, a few group shots. Reed found the reason for Rick’s hasty departure.
Inside the master bedroom were full color canvas images of children. From the oldest kid in their early teens to babies. This wasn’t a family of blood, there were too many differences in the faces. No, this was a collection of friends.
He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to figure out which kid belonged to who. And like the old posters of hidden pictures, Reed’s eyes blurred as he imagined what Lori’s children would look like.
Then he woke up.
He ran his hands over his tired eyes and worked his way home. Before leaving his car, he dialed someone who wouldn’t shovel shit over him, someone he could trust to give him real advice.
“Hello.”
“Becca?”
“No way . . . my brother is calling me? You never call.” His sister did that fast-talking thing that made his head twitch. “Wait, is everything okay? You’re not sick, are you?”
“Lord, woman, you sound like Mom.”
“Is it Mom?”
“Can’t I just call to say hi?”
Becca paused. “Not unless you’ve turned over some kind of new leaf.”
His sister knew him well. “I need some advice.”
“Oh my God, you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick. Geez, paranoid much? You’re the older sister, I need woman advice. Mom would just tell me I’m perfect, and if anyone knows I’m not, it’s you.”
“Wow . . . hold on.” His sister moved the phone away, he heard the small voice of his nephew. “No, honey, it’s Uncle Reed. Go help your sister clean up the Play-Doh. Okay . . . sorry.”
“How are they?”
“They’re great. You’d know that if you visited once in a while.”
“I haven’t been good company.”
“Like that’s ever changed,” she teased. “Now what is this about a girl?”
The sobering current of his relationship with Lori spilled out, minus any incriminating details. And when he was out of words, he finished with . . . “I want her back.”
Becca paused, and then laughed. “Wow. There is screwing up, and then there is what you did.”
“Becca.”
“Okay, all right. You need to stack the deck . . . you are going to need her friends behind you or you’re not getting anywhere.”
“What about her brother?”
“Please, if someone did this to Rachel, you’d tie the man up in Times Square and throw rocks at him.”
The repeated image of fire ants made an unwelcome appearance.
“Fine, her friends.”
“And if this woman grants you five minutes, you need to make damn sure those minutes count. This does not sound like a woman who grants second chances. You’re going to have one shot, so make sure you know exactly what you’re going to say to make her stick around and listen.”
He could do that. “Right. You’re right.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?” he asked.
“Flowers die, chocolate is fattening, and jewelry is a rich man’s gesture.”
“I’m not a rich man.”
“It might mean something, then. Could go either way.”
Reed smiled at the image of his pragmatic sister sitting in a room full of Play-Doh and cookies while she delivered advice.
“Love you, Becca.”
“Love you, too, pipsqueak. Good luck.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Reed answered his phone without looking at the number.
“The favors keep adding up, Reed.”
He dropped the fork that was halfway to his mouth. “What the—”
“Warehouse.” Sasha rattled off an address as he scrambled to find a pen. He wrote the information down on his hand.
“Is it Lori?” he asked.
“Her brother. Who all of you overestimated to be able to fend for himself.” Reed’s brief relief was followed by renewed panic.
“Why Danny? He doesn’t know anything.”
“Leverage. Desperate people do desperate things. Might wanna hurry. Petrov’s men are coming for the woman holding him, but will think of him as collateral damage and take the shot without asking. Bring backup. I draw the line at killing anyone for a job.”
“How many men?”
“She has two, I count three of Petrov’s goons. None of these men have tasted a carb in five years.”
“Stay out of the way.”
“Ahh, you care.”
He hung up in reply.
He walked right up to the terribly hidden camera in
a vent, stared at it, and read off the address. “I don’t know what you guys are made of, but now is the time to bring it. They have Danny.”
And Reed was out the door.
His phone rang as he peeled out of the parking lot.
“Talk to me.”
“Sasha’s tip. They have Danny.”
“Who?” Neil asked.
“I’m guessing the woman Sam met with and two of her players. Minimum of three coming in to take her out.”
“And Dan?” Neil asked.
“She wants him alive. I doubt the others will care once bullets start flying.”
“We’re en route. You need to hold back.”
“The hell I will.” If something happened to Lori’s brother . . .
“Reed.”
“Bite me.”
“Fine, then at least duck.”
Lori and the girls were a tad cooked after the three-hour flight. The weekend had been exactly what she needed. Good friends, great conversation, and reflection did the job of refocusing her attitude.
They were waist deep in a conversation about the best series on Netflix when Cooper turned off the freeway after a brief conversation on his phone.
She ignored it and listened to Avery sing the praises of some fourth-dimensional world thriller based in the seventies.
“So the kid lives in the walls?” Shannon asked, trying to grasp the concept.
“No, in another dimension that parallels our world. But the thing that rules that world can seep through the walls.”
Lori noticed the freeway they were on and questioned their path. “Are we dropping Shannon off first?” Even if they were, they were going the wrong direction.
“Change of plans.” Cooper looked through the rearview mirror.
Lori followed his gaze, noticed a sedan close behind them.
“Are we being followed?”
“They’re with us.”
Both Shannon and Avery turned to see what they were talking about.
“Why?”
“There’s been an incident.”
Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “What kind of incident?”
“I don’t have the details. I’m taking you to the safe house.”
“What’s going on?” Avery asked.
They pulled directly into the garage of the Tarzana home Lori had frequently visited in the early years of Alliance. More than one employee had lived in the house, and while it wasn’t a traditional safe house, it was equipped with every possible monitoring and detection system available.
Cooper walked in before them, silenced the alarm, and waved them through the door.
Blackout curtains prevented anyone from seeing activity inside. The old windows had been replaced with bulletproof glass. The house was a kind of pet project for Neil and his team. They renovated from the inside out, placing sheets of metal between the walls to help stop bullets. While there had never been an actual shooting incident in the house, it had seen its fair amount of high-action drama over the years. Hence all the protection.
Cooper ran upstairs.
“What’s going on, Lori?” Avery asked.
“I don’t know.” She had a bad feeling.
“What is this place?”
“The original headquarters of Alliance. Sam lived here before she married Blake. Eliza . . . Neil’s wife, Gwen. Most of the employees have lived here at one point or another.”
Cooper double-timed down the stairs, this time holding a very large, very angry looking rifle.
Avery sat down hard on the sofa. Shannon placed a hand on her shoulder.
Somewhere in the back of her head, something rang repeatedly.
“Lori, is that your phone?”
She pulled out of her daze and found her purse.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Cumberland.” She didn’t recognize the voice.
“Who is this?” Her question drew the attention of everyone in the room.
“I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”
Air rushed into her lungs.
“Say hello . . .”
“Screw you.”
“Danny?” The sound of her brother’s muffled voice stopped her cold.
She heard the sound of someone hitting flesh.
“Danny!”
Cooper moved beside her and forced her to tilt the phone so he could hear the conversation.
“Yes, yes . . . I have your little brother. I’m quite sorry about his nose.”
“What do you want?”
“So cooperative, perfect. All I need is a signed copy of the contract Samantha forgot to give me last week.”
“A piece of paper.”
“Well, that and perhaps a copy of Katrina Petrov’s file. That would be gravy. Yes, I think your brother’s face can be spared further damage with the simple click of the mouse.”
“I’m not at my office.”
“Well then, you might want to get there quickly. You have thirty minutes.” The line went dead.
Lori grabbed her purse and started toward the garage.
Cooper cut her off. “Where are you going?”
“My office. I have to go to my office.”
He placed both hands on her shoulders. “No, Lori. You’re not walking into a trap.”
“They have Danny.” Her eyes were wide, autopilot was talking, and logic wasn’t entering her brain.
“And they will have Danny and not you, until we extract Danny.”
“What are you talking about?” She pushed around him.
Avery ran in front of her. “Hey, Mission Impossible woman . . . stop and think like a lawyer.”
Lights from outside lit up the living room as a car pulled into the driveway.
Shannon walked to the window and pulled back the blinds. “It’s Sam.”
Lori ran around the others and met Sam at the door.
“They have Danny.”
She placed both hands on Lori’s face. “It’s being handled.”
The image of Danny laughing as he joked about Thanksgiving and turkey legs brought tears to her eyes. “What do you mean handled?”
She pulled Lori to the couch. “Reed got a call.”
“Reed? What does he have to do with—”
“Neil and Rick are on their way to get him out now.”
“I don’t like this,” she cried.
Sam looked up. “Shannon, how about some coffee. Avery, there’s food in the fridge.”
Both women took the cue and left the room.
Sam ducked her head in. “Neil and Rick are going to get Danny out.”
“You’re sure?”
“They haven’t failed yet.”
“And Reed . . . where is he?”
Sam blinked a few times.
“Sam?”
“He’s there, too, Lori. On our side.”
Lori looked over to where Cooper stood by the window, his AR-15 held loosely in his arms.
Let them live . . . please, God, let them live.
Chapter Thirty-Five
He jumped out of the Jeep, running.
Sandwiched between a cardboard factory and a building warehousing something in the fashion industry sat the botanical warehouse Sasha identified as housing Danny. It was Sunday, and the unions did a great job of making sure work halted for the weekends. Outside of a few cars scattered around, there wasn’t any outside activity.
He felt the mist known as Sasha nearby.
He practiced evasive maneuvers in an effort to not give away his position as he moved from building to building. The sporadic windows of the botanical warehouse were close to the eaves of the two-story building. None of which were accessible to him . . . or anyone else.
He swept his eyes over the rooftops and didn’t see movement.
The massive door to the warehouse was open by an inch. Instead of considering that route, where he would have placed a guard if he were holding someone hostage, Reed looked for other options. The north side of the building presented itsel
f.
Out of his wallet, he removed two pins—the click of the door being relieved from the lock sounded like a gun. He froze, fearful the sound had given away his position.
Deep breath.
Inside, the low hum of voices brought him forward.
“Say hello . . .”
“Screw you,” he heard Danny say.
Reed peered around a pallet of boxes containing glass vases. The woman he’d seen at Starbucks stood in front of Danny, who was tied to a chair. Two men approximately the size of baby elephants flanked him.
“Yes, yes . . . I have your little brother. I’m quite sorry about his nose.” The woman’s English accent caught his ear, but her words screwed with his heart. She was talking to Lori.
The desire to point, aim, and shoot was one of the hardest things he’d ever denied himself.
He moved to another row of pallets. His eyes moved to the eaves of the building. Sasha said there were three more men.
Where are you?
“So cooperative, perfect. All I need is a signed copy of the contract Samantha forgot to give me last week.” The woman’s voice turned away.
At this angle Reed saw Danny’s face. He had one eye open . . . and damn, that nose was going to hurt in the morning.
“Well, that and perhaps a copy of Katrina Petrov’s file. That would be gravy. Yes, I think your brother’s face can be spared further damage with the simple click of the mouse.”
He could hear the desperation in the woman’s voice.
“Well then, you might want to get there quickly. You have thirty minutes.”
Movement off the west eaves of the building captured his attention.
Holy shit.
He pushed against the back of a stack of boxes, causing the glass inside to rattle.
The room stilled.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman nod in his direction.
Reed turned to remove himself from the thugs’ path to find a gun pointed at his head.
He froze. The grip on his gun loosened.
“Move, asshole.”
Two things calculated in his brain at the same time. The man with the gun in his hand wasn’t in this for more than money, or else Reed would already be dead. Second . . . Sasha’s information was wrong, and Miss Wannabe Alliance Bride was working with more than two men. In his head, he added a plus one to Miss Bride’s list. Now the question was, where were Petrov’s men?
Fool Me Once (First Wives Series Book 1) Page 29