Whatever It Takes 2

by Christy Reece

  Kathleen blamed herself for her sister’s naïveté. She had protected Alice from the harsher parts of life. Though they’d never had much money, if Alice had wanted something and it had been within Kathleen’s ability, she’d done her best to see that her sister got it. She hadn’t prepared Alice for how to cope with disappointment or rejection. Hadn’t sufficiently warned her about the people who would take advantage of her innocence.

  “And then you moved in with him a few weeks later?”

  “No…I…” Alice trailed off, and Kathleen realized once again that there were more secrets yet to be revealed.

  “What, Alice?” Kathleen leaned forward, whispered, “Sweetie, you can’t keep things from me if we’re going to prove your innocence. What haven’t you told me?”

  “Before I moved in with him…I was at his mansion for a party. I walked into a bedroom…saw him with a couple of women.” She grimaced her disgust. “They were…you know…doing things. Anyway, it pissed me off. I was going to leave and never see him again. But I was so mad. So I—”

  “What? What did you do?”

  “Well…I had seen him in his study a few times before, when he’d gotten money out of his safe to give me for shopping and stuff.”

  “Oh, Alice,” Kathleen whispered.

  “It was only ten thousand dollars, Kathleen. After the way he’d treated me, lying and telling me I was the only woman in his life, I figured I deserved it.”

  “And you got caught?”

  “No, not then. About a week later, he showed up at my apartment with a cop who arrested me for theft.”

  Kathleen shook her head, confused. “There’s no record of an arrest.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t really an arrest. Frank had one of his friends dress up like a cop. I thought it was the real thing… I didn’t find out until later that it was just another lie.

  “Anyway, instead of taking me to jail, they took me back to Frank’s house. The fake cop left, and Frank gave me a choice. Said I could stay with him, work for him to pay him back, or he’d call the cops, for real this time. He said he’d see to it that I served time in prison. I believed him. I’d already spent most of the money on rent and food and stuff. So I agreed to work for him. I didn’t know what kind of work he was talking about until later.”

  Berating her sister for her choices would be pointless. Serving time in jail for theft would have been a walk in the park compared to what Braden had made her do. Alice had learned her lesson in the harshest way possible.

  “So you moved in with him then. And you lived with him for how long before he brought in the first man?”

  “A week or so.” Alice closed her eyes as she described what happened next and the numerous men Frank had forced her to have sex with, all in the guise of paying a debt.

  Kathleen made herself listen to each one. Though she knew the details by heart, and they sickened her every time she heard them, she was convinced that in this mass of horrific events, something would stand out that would reveal Braden’s killer.

  Even now, after having heard the horror stories of each encounter, Kathleen wished with all her might that Braden were alive so she could take care of him herself. Whoever had killed the bastard deserved a medal for the deed, but damned if she’d allow Alice to take the blame.

  “Wait.” Kathleen held up her hand, looking down at the notepad. “That’s the first time you’ve mentioned Edward.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Tell me about him.”

  “He was different than the others.”

  “Different, how?”

  “All the others were forceful, sometimes to the point of cruelty. But Edward…I don’t know. He seemed more amused than anything. And he didn’t want to do anything other than talk.”

  “No sex?”

  “No. He was in a wheelchair, so I’m not sure exactly if he was impaired sexually or not. We didn’t talk about that. We might’ve kissed a little. I don’t know, you kind of lose count after a while. But I do remember that we mostly just talked.”

  “About what?”

  “About me. He wanted to know where I grew up. If I had family. Where they were. Why I stayed with Frank. Things like that.”

  “He didn’t talk about himself?”

  “No. I learned early not to ask questions.”

  “But you didn’t get his last name either?”

  “No. Last names were strictly forbidden. I’m not even sure any of them used their real first names.”

  That was one of the biggest problems. Frank Braden’s records were as sketchy as his life. He used first names only and sometimes only descriptions or certain acts to describe the business transactions between the women and their “clients.”

  “Did you ever see Edward again?”

  “No. Just that one time.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about the other women that Frank used this way.”

  “Kathleen, I promise. I’ve told you about them. He didn’t let me associate with them other than a few times when he had parties. But even then, we didn’t get to talk. We were there for only one reason. I don’t even know where he kept them.”

  Refusing to back down, Kathleen forged on. “You’ve told me about five of them.” She glanced down at her list, reciting the names of the girls Alice had given her.

  Alice gave a weary nod. “Those are the only names I know.”

  “But there were others?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know their names. What do you want me to do, Kathleen? Draw their pictures? You think that’s going to help you find them? I only know the first names of any of them. And even if you do find them, do you really think any of them would admit to killing Frank? Face it. I’m screwed.”

  “No, you’re not. But we have to keep trying, Alice. We can’t just give up. I won’t give up.”

  Alice looked down at her hands, picked nervously at her nails. “You need to know something,” she whispered. “It’s not something I ever planned to tell you, but I think, for both of us to move forward, face what we have to face, you need to know the truth.”

  A chill swept down Kathleen’s spine. “What?”

  “First, before I tell you, I want you to know I never thought his threats were real. I—” She shook her head. “I just never believed he’d do it.”

  “What threats? Do what? What are you talking about?”

  “Your hit-and-run accident. It wasn’t an accident.”

  Her throat was so tight Kathleen was surprised she could get the words out. “What are you saying?”

  “I think Frank was responsible. Oh, I’m not saying he did it himself, but I think he paid someone to do it. He told me about what happened, showed me pictures of you. He had a video. Someone came into your hospital room while you were unconscious and recorded you.

  “You looked so battered, so hurt. I wanted to be with you. He laughed when I told him I had to go to you, and he said something like, ‘See what happens when you don’t do what you’re told?’”

  Kathleen mumbled through numb lips, “But why would he do that?”

  Alice eyes dropped to her hands again. “I ran away from him… He caught me within a couple of days. I was surprised that he didn’t do much more than yell at me, smack me around a little. It was a few days after that when he told me you’d been injured.”

  Kathleen had to grip the edge of the small table in front of her to keep from sliding out of the chair onto the floor. She remembered that day as vividly as if it had happened yesterday and not a year and a half ago—the horror, the pain, and the incredible, gnawing guilt.

  She’d awakened in the hospital days later with an ankle so shattered it was almost demolished, a broken shoulder, fractured pelvis, a broken hand, and a severe concussion. Recovery had been slow, rehab had been hell. But to her mind, that hadn’t been the worst of it. A child had almost died on her watch.

  As a security specialist for Bankhead Security in Denver, Kathleen’s job included my
riad duties. One of her most frequent was protecting children. Dignitaries and wealthy, influential families who visited Denver often sought out bodyguard services for their families. Kathleen hadn’t set out to be a children’s bodyguard, but when her employer realized she had a special affinity for kids, she’d gotten many of those assignments.

  Twelve-year-old Emily Van Hauer had been one of those children. Emily’s father, a wealthy financier from Germany, was in the States for several months. No threats had been made against the family, but Lawrence Van Hauer was determined that his family stay safe. While others in the security company were assigned to protect Van Hauer’s wife and son, Kathleen had been charged with protecting Emily. And she had failed.

  The incident had done more than almost kill Emily, it had destroyed Kathleen’s confidence in her ability to protect. Even after recovering her health and returning to work, she had refused all bodyguard assignments.

  She saw the guilt in Alice’s eyes. The knowledge that if she’d made a different decision, stayed away from Frank Braden, so much could have been prevented.

  Forcing her mouth to form words, Kathleen said, “It wasn’t your fault, Alice. I’m glad you ran from Braden, and I’m sorry he caught you. But you had no idea he would do something like that. He was the fiend, not you.”

  “But you and that little girl almost died.”

  Kathleen raised her hand, dimly pleased that it wasn’t shaking the way her insides seemed to be. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. We both fully recovered. The most important thing is to concentrate on the here and now. We’ll get you out of here, and you can start a new life. Put all of this behind you.”

  The last part came out a little shakier than she’d intended, telling her she needed to get the hell out before she lost the control that had been her mainstay for most of her life. Letting Alice see how this revelation had upset her would only make both of them feel worse.

  “I’d better get going and see if I can run down any more leads. See you tomorrow. Okay?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Kathleen returned the notebook to her purse and stood. She had to go…couldn’t be there any longer, sure that she’d be screaming within the next seconds. Turning her back on her sister, she walked out the door.

  Chapter Four

  Kathleen didn’t remember walking out of the jail or getting into her car. She barely remembered the drive to her apartment. When she came back to herself, she was parked at the apartment complex she now called home. A rat-infested hovel, with drug dealers and vermin competing for the top spot in repulsiveness.

  She’d sold her house in Denver to pay for Alice’s defense fees. Unfortunately, the money had dwindled quickly and was almost gone. This apartment, with its broken windows and cockroaches the size of small mice, was all she felt she could afford. It wasn’t home. Just where she showered and slept a few hours at night. Most of her waking hours were spent at the library reading law books or talking to people who had known Frank Braden. Not that either one of those activities had done any good yet.

  Tired in both body and spirit, Kathleen got out of her car and headed to her third-floor apartment. She paid no attention to her surroundings, and if she’d been in her right mind, she would’ve been cursing herself for her carelessness.

  They came at her from both sides. Two men in their early twenties, knives glinting, smiles slick, confident they’d found easy prey. Just for an instant, she didn’t care. The pull of self-pity was strong. Why fight? She’d lost so much. Did she even care anymore?

  The horror of that thought jerked her back into the moment, out of her pity party. Hell, she was no quitter, nor was she weak. These young men with their cocky attitudes and lack of respect for life offended her on so many levels. They had underestimated her—they wouldn’t be the first. At a little under average height, about five-four, with a slender, delicate-looking physique, she was often mistaken for fragile. Those who underestimated her soon discovered differently, as these idiots were about to learn.

  Adrenaline replaced the wash of depression she’d been feeling. Now back in control, she found herself looking forward to this challenge.

  She led them out into the open parking lot to give herself more room to maneuver. They didn’t realize that, though. They would assume she was scared, trying to figure out how to escape. Little did these men know that escaping was the last thing on her mind.

  She dropped her purse on the pavement. It held a weapon, but she had no plan to use it. She had faced these types of opponents before. Stupid arrogance was always a delight to take down.

  Even though she knew it was pointless, she felt obliged to give them fair warning. “Okay, guys. No one’s gotten hurt yet. Back away right now, and no one has to.”

  One of the men, the smaller of the two, grinned. “I like ’em feisty. We’re going to have fun with you.”

  The larger one surprised her by saying, “I don’t know, man, she don’t look scared. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we should—”

  “If you’re too chickenshit to handle this, that means I got her all to myself…and all the money, too.”

  “I ain’t chickenshit, asshole,” the big guy growled and then decided to show his lack of cowardice by lunging toward her.

  Thankful she was wearing sneakers, Kathleen sprang nimbly away from her attacker, landing a couple of feet beside him. Confused, he turned, and that’s when she kicked the knife from his hand, followed by a one-two punch to his face then his soft belly.

  Stumbling back, the guy bent over double. Knowing it would take him a minute or so to recover, she turned to the other guy, who was staring at her as if she were some kind of freak.

  “You’re a ninja.”

  Laughter bubbled up inside her, and for the first time in months, she felt lighthearted. If she’d thought these guys would cooperate, she’d thank them for the entertainment and let them walk away.

  “Not a ninja. Just a woman who’s going to beat your ass to a bloody pulp if you don’t get out of here now.”

  She heard a noise behind her and glanced over her shoulder. The big guy had recovered quicker than she’d counted on and was now back on his feet.

  She turned back to the smaller man, noting that with his friend’s recovery, confidence had returned to his face. “Like hell, bitch. You’re gonna pay for that.”

  They double-teamed her this time, and she went high with a split air kick. With the difference in their heights, one kick landed at the base of the taller guy’s throat. The other kick was intended for the shorter guy’s nose, but he shifted at the last second. Her foot missed his nose, bounced off his shoulder, jamming her weak ankle.

  Damn, that hurt.

  She dropped back to the pavement, hobbled backward, and landed flat on her ass. Cursing her weakness, she scrambled to get to her feet. She knew how to fight through the pain. Seeing their chance, they laughed as they came at her again. Unable to get to her feet in time, Kathleen scooted backward on her butt and then braced herself for the assault. It didn’t come.

  In her peripheral vision, she spotted a tall, broad-shouldered shadow. Startled, she turned in time to see a man with impressive speed and strength sweep one of the guys backward with a lightning strike fist to his face. Stunned from the blow, the guy wobbled on his feet, looking dazed. The stranger slammed his fist into the guy’s nose and then his mouth. He fell backward onto the pavement, either unconscious or too stupefied to move.

  Growling like a feral cat, the smaller guy ran toward the man, who merely met him with multiple fist strikes. Blood spurted, and the thug fell to the ground.

  “Are you all right?”

  The hand that appeared before her was large and, despite the bleeding knuckles, surprisingly elegant. She grabbed hold and allowed him to help her to her feet. “Thanks for your help. Where did you come from?”

  “I was driving by, saw what was happening.”

  He didn’t belong in this neighborhood. His clothes, though casual, were expensive, his shoes G
ucci. His sunglasses alone could probably pay her rent for the year. She noted the sleek, late-model sports car a few feet away, the front door standing open, indicating he’d jumped out quickly.

  No, he was most definitely not from around here. But he was trained, with the kind of moves that weren’t learned in expensive spas or gyms. Military? Private security? Didn’t really matter. She was just grateful for the help.

  “You’ve got some impressive moves.”

  He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve run into a lot of bullies in my life. Pays to be prepared.”

  “I really appreciate the help, Mr.…?”

  A scrambling sound behind them put them both on alert. Turning, they watched the two men hobble off at a run and then jump into an ancient black van that appeared to be waiting for them. It took off with a screech.

  “Guess they didn’t want to stick around for introductions,” Kathleen said.

  “You want me to call the police?”

  She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was more publicity. “Thanks, but there’s no point. No license plate, and every other person within five blocks has a van similar to that one. Hopefully, they learned their lesson.”

  His frown showed his doubt, and then he glanced down at her ankle. “You’d better get some ice on that.”

  In that instant, she felt the pain come and noted it was already swelling. If she didn’t get ice on it soon, she’d be hobbling into the courtroom tomorrow.

  He picked up her purse and handed it to her. “You need help getting to your apartment?”

  No matter how handsome or elegantly dressed this man was, or how helpful he’d been, he was a stranger. Plus, she was surprised to find that she apparently still had a little pride left, because the thought of him seeing her hideous apartment made her cringe.

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine. Thank you again for your help.”

  Hitching the strap onto her shoulder, she gave him a nod and then hobbled toward the apartment building. The elevator hadn’t worked since she’d moved in, so she didn’t bother to try it. Wincing with every step, she finally reached the third floor. Curious to see if her rescuer was still around, she stopped at a broken window and peered down at the parking lot. He had disappeared. If not for the throbbing pain in her ankle and the memory of warm brown eyes in an extraordinarily handsome face, she could almost believe she’d imagined the whole thing.