Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  “I have a few ideas.” Sawyer rubbed his forehead to keep blood out of his eyes. If only his head weren’t pounding, if only he didn’t feel light-headed.

  Kaylin went to the kitchen sink, grabbed a clean cloth, and dampened it. “Let me look at that cut, Sawyer. You might need stitches.”

  She made him sit at the table, and as she went to work on his head, Sawyer winced. “Easy.”

  Kaylin peered at his scalp. “The wound is long and thin but not too deep. If I can stop the bleeding, you’ll be fine.” She pressed harder.

  He suppressed a groan, grateful his grandmother was away on a singles’ cruise and hadn’t been there during the attack. “How about an aspirin?”

  “Bourbon’s better.” Mitzy poured herself a glass.

  Becca stood. “Where’s the aspirin?”

  “The cabinet above the sink,” he directed. “Second shelf.”

  Becca returned with a glass of water and the aspirin. He took two, but he wanted four. All his life he’d avoided fights. They looked painful, but they felt worse. His cut might not be deep, but the bruise under it was. He had one hell of a headache. It felt as if a marching band had used his scalp for a practice field.

  Kaylin took another dry towel, folded it, and pressed it against his head.

  “Ow.”

  “It’s really just a scratch.”

  “I think you missed the egg-sized knot.”

  Kaylin moved her fingers and gasped. “Oh . . . my God. This bump’s the size of an orange. Ice. I need ice. How did this happen?”

  “Probably when the bad guy coldcocked me with his gun,” he muttered.

  Kaylin bent down and looked at his pupils. “Did you black out? You think you have a concussion?”

  How the hell should he know? Angry he hadn’t been able to protect them, furious his efforts hadn’t stopped the kidnappers, he was in no mood for Kaylin’s questions. And he barely had enough sense not to say so. “Two aspirin should fix me.”

  Becca brought ice in a plastic bag. Kaylin smashed the bag on the counter, breaking up the pieces. “Here, maybe this will help the swelling.”

  “Thanks.” He accepted the ice. “There’s a pad and pen over there.”

  Becca brought that, too. “So what’s your idea?”

  Kaylin shook her head. “You should lie down.”

  “Aspirin’s already kicking in,” he lied. “I’m fine.”

  “So what’s on your mind?” Kaylin sat, clearly upset but holding it together.

  “We need a secret way to contact the authorities so we can get Lia back.”

  “Yeah, right,” Mitzy said.

  Kaylin shot Mitzy a look that could have frozen the sun’s corona.

  “Sounds good to me,” Becca muttered.

  “All right?” Sawyer focused on writing notes. “We think they want your father’s formula. That’s why they killed Henry, robbed your home, and now kidnapped Lia. Chances are, they want to trade Lia for the formula.”

  “We don’t know that,” Becca argued.

  “True, but why else would they take her?” Kaylin defended his idea. “After all, Lia doesn’t know anything, and it’s unlikely they think she does.”

  “Exactly.” Sawyer nodded, then wished he hadn’t as pain exploded behind the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass, then opened them. “So when they call back to trade her for the formula, we have to be ready.”

  “How?” Kaylin asked.

  “We give them the formula.”

  Kaylin rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “But we don’t have the formula.”

  “They don’t know that.” In spite of his head pain, Sawyer grinned. “We give them a fake formula.”

  “You can do that?” Becca asked, lifting her head and straightening in her chair.

  “That’s brilliant.” Mitzy’s eyes glinted with hope. “They won’t know which formula works until they test it.”

  “These men are not stupid.” Kaylin sighed. “Suppose they hold Lia until they test the formula?”

  Sawyer shrugged. “If I give them a formula that’s close to the real deal, any chemist worth his degree will recognize its value.”

  “You really think you can fool them?” Kaylin asked.

  He didn’t know. But what other choice did they have? “I can try . . . But they’ll want to verify your father’s findings. I’ll use old research to extrapolate, falsify the data, and manufacture fake records. At least enough to convince them to trade the data for Lia.”

  “And Billy. Why do you all keep forgetting Billy?” Mitzy asked.

  Sawyer’s mind moved on. “Kaylin, I want you to think back to the security footage from your dad’s desktop. Do you recall the men’s faces?”

  “Yes, but . . .” She jumped ahead. “I didn’t see the kidnappers’ faces on the footage. I can’t identify them as Lia’s kidnappers.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” He started to shake his head and remembered to stop before the pain hit again. “I want to know if any of those men was Quinn.”

  “Quinn?” Kaylin looked thoughtful.

  “Who’s Quinn?” Becca asked.

  “An old friend of your father’s,” Sawyer explained as Kaylin closed her eyes. “We went to the bank, and in Henry’s safe deposit box we found a document giving half the rights to your father’s patents to Quinn.”

  Mitzy frowned. “He never mentioned this Quinn to me.”

  Kaylin opened her eyes and spoke slowly. “It’s been years since I saw Quinn, and I don’t remember the men on the footage well enough to say if Quinn visited Dad the week before the explosion. I need to look again.”

  “But the sheriff’s department took the footage,” Becca reminded them.

  “I’ve got a copy on my laptop,” Sawyer told them.

  “That’s the first good news I’ve heard today.” Kaylin shot him a grateful look.

  “I’m calling Shadee,” Becca told them. “I’m supposed to go with him to the beach tomorrow.”

  “Are you thinking about telling him about Lia and Billy?” Mitzy asked. “Because that’s not a good idea.”

  “Why?” Becca fisted her hands on her hips.

  “Because Shadee’s Middle Eastern,” Mitzy pointed out. “And the men who visited your father a week before his death were Middle Eastern.”

  “So any Middle Easterner is suspect? Come on. Shadee grew up in this neighborhood.”

  “Ever hear of a sleeper?” Mitzy countered.

  Becca rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I’ve spent more time with Shadee than Kaylin has with Sawyer. And you’re paranoid.”

  “I have every right to be paranoid. My son and your sister have just been kidnapped.”

  Mitzy and Becca both turned to Kaylin. Becca’s face stayed defiant, her body stiff with outrage. If Kaylin nixed the idea of Shadee coming over, Sawyer sensed it might lead to a permanent breach between the sisters.

  The air crackled with tension. Sawyer didn’t envy Kaylin her choices. She had to weigh Lia’s life against Becca’s judgment of her lover. As much as his head ached, he felt for Kaylin. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. In her position, he didn’t know what he would do, and he was glad he didn’t have to make that decision.

  “Seems to me it would be a good thing to have another guy around the house,” Kaylin said. Becca’s relief was evident as she dropped her combative stance. “But . . . I don’t want him or the authorities—if we find a safe way to contact them—to know we’re falsifying the data,” Kaylin added. “You can tell Shadee everything else but that.”

  “Okay. But Shadee’s trustworthy. He was in the U.S. military, for God’s sake. He served in Iraq.”

  Kaylin’s eyes narrowed. “How come you never mentioned thi
s before? And just how old is he?”

  “He’s twenty-six, and I never mentioned it because it never came up. It’s not like his past is a secret. He’s proud of serving his country. This country.”

  Sawyer and Kaylin exchanged a long glance. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She’d just lost one sister and didn’t want to lose another.

  For all their sakes, Sawyer hoped Becca’s judgment was on target. And that Kaylin’s faith in her was justified.

  26

  BECCA HUNG UP the phone and joined Kaylin and Sawyer at the kitchen table. He furiously typed data into the computer, his fingers a blur, while her sister studied faces on the security footage.

  “Recognize Quinn?” Becca asked, feeling better with Shadee on the way over. The man didn’t just make love like a stud, he lent her strength, and that support meant everything.

  “I don’t know.” Kaylin pointed at a middle-aged man on the screen. “I remember Quinn from when I was a kid. Comparing these images to a twenty-year-old memory isn’t easy.” She shrugged her dancer’s shoulders. “But it’s possible this is Quinn.”

  The man—average height with thinning black hair and silver streaks—appeared nonthreatening. Becca frowned. “What’s next? Have you figured out a way to contact the authorities?”

  “I’m considering email or a text message, but I’m afraid no one will pay attention to it right away.”

  “Maybe Mr. Lansky?” Becca suggested.

  “They might be watching our attorney. But what about asking Shadee to do it for us?” Kaylin suggested.

  “You trust him?”

  “I trust your judgment.”

  “Thanks. I love you, too.” Becca gave Kaylin a fierce hug. “Then what’s next after I talk to Shadee?”

  “First Sawyer falsifies the data, and if the kidnappers still haven’t called, then we check out Quinn.” Kaylin jumped at the sound of a car, then peered out the window as the vehicle’s headlights turned into Sawyer’s drive.

  “It’s Shadee.” Becca stepped lightly toward the front door. “After I called, he insisted on coming over.” She paused and frowned over her shoulder at Mitzy. “I expect you to be nice.”

  Mitzy didn’t answer. Just stared into her bourbon.

  Before Shadee had a chance to ring the bell, Becca ran to the door and opened it. He’d never looked so good. Wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap pulled on backward, he was all hard male. She flung herself into his arms, gave him a hug and a kiss, and tugged him into the kitchen to introduce him. Kaylin and Sawyer offered handshakes. Mitzy never looked up from her drink.

  “I’m afraid you’ve caught us at a bad time,” Kaylin apologized as she returned to studying the footage, and Sawyer entered more data into his laptop.

  Shadee removed his cap and stuffed it into his rear pocket. “What can I do to help?”

  “Watch over Becca,” Kaylin suggested.

  Shadee placed a protective arm around Becca’s shoulder, his voice soft, yet threaded with determination. “I can do that, but are you certain you don’t want official help?”

  “Actually, we’re hoping you can do something for us.” Becca spoke quietly, urgently. “The same men who took Lia may have killed our father and broken into our home. They told Kaylin they’re watching us. But if you went to the authorities for us . . .”

  Shadee agreed. “I can do that.”

  “You have to do it in secret,” Kaylin stressed.

  “If the kidnappers find out you’ve gone to the authorities, they’ll . . .” Mitzy shook her head, cutting off the rest of the threat as if she couldn’t bear to repeat it.

  Kaylin added, “We’re not just counting on the authorities. We’re going to figure out how to save Lia and Billy ourselves.”

  Shadee nodded, and Becca steered him through the house and onto the back deck. Sawyer had a huge patio that spanned the entire rear of the house. Planters with flowers and potted herbs broke up the wide expanse of decking, as did an umbrella with chairs and two chaise lounges.

  Becca drew Shadee to a hammock wide enough for two. She rolled in and Shadee hesitated. “As much as I like the idea of getting in there with you, I need to leave.”

  Becca held back tears. “Not yet. If someone’s watching, and you go tearing off right away, it’ll look suspicious.” She ached for Shadee to hold her, to tell her Lia would be okay, that they would find her soon, unhurt.

  “All right. If I’m going to get help, give me as much information as you can.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Shadee spoke quietly, standing beside the hammock. “Did anyone get a make and model of the vehicle?”

  “Kaylin saw the van, but the license plate was smeared with mud.”

  “What about fingerprints?”

  “They all wore gloves.” Shadee’s questions seemed professional. And she was now certain that bringing him in to help was the right thing to do.

  “Were they white? Black? Hispanic? Asian? Middle Eastern?”

  “I already told you, they wore masks. I thought one of the men spoke with a Greek accent, but I’m not sure.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “It might also have been Arabic. I’m not up on foreign accents.” Becca held out her arms to Shadee. When his hand touched hers, she grabbed it and tugged him into the hammock. He didn’t resist, rolling against her and feeling so good, solid, warm.

  “Think about eyes and the skin around the masks’ eyeholes. What were the shapes of the eyes? Was the flesh white, black, or somewhere in-between?”

  “I guess none of them were African-American or Asian.” Becca snuggled her head against his shoulder and then felt bad that she was taking comfort from Shadee when poor Lia had to be scared out of her wits. Billy, too.

  “What were they wearing?”

  “Dark clothes. Long-sleeved shirts. Dark pants. Boots.”

  “Were they in uniform?”

  Becca squeezed her eyes shut. Had the men all worn the same thing? “Everything happened so fast. I was asleep. I’m a heavy sleeper. I think I heard Lia scream the same moment I felt a hand on my neck. He held me down by the throat and slapped duct tape over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe and thrashed around, not seeing much. He flipped me over and taped my hands, then marched me down the stairs. On the way, I got my hands free. Lia, Mitzy, and Sawyer and the intruders were all behind me. I thought they were going to kill all of us.” She shuddered.

  “So you led the way downstairs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what happened?” Shadee asked.

  “Sawyer got free and started kicking and punching. He was like some kind of action hero and almost saved us by himself. I twisted around to see him fighting two men. Another guy pulled a gun. He was going to shoot Sawyer, and I knocked the gun from his hand. He shoved me into a wall. Then Kaylin ran inside. She was dripping wet, her eyes wild. She had a can of WD-40, and she lit the spray on fire and burned one of them. Sawyer kept fighting. They retreated, but they took Lia.”

  “What about Billy?” Shadee asked.

  “I never saw him. No one saw him. But Kaylin said he wasn’t in his room earlier. We assumed they took Billy first, Lia later, but we don’t know. It’s terrible of me to hope he’s with her. But then Lia wouldn’t be alone.”

  Becca didn’t like being alone, either. She’d felt abandoned after her mother died, and now she was turning to Shadee after losing her father. She sighed. Nobody ever said there was anything wrong with comfort, did they?

  She trembled, and gently he rocked her against him. The hammock swung back and forth. His heat warmed her flesh, but inside Becca felt frozen. She couldn’t relax, not with Lia missing. Not when she was waiting for the phone to ring.

  “Did either Billy or Lia have a cell phone w
ith them?”

  Becca shook her head. “Lia was in her pajamas. And Billy’s phone was on the floor.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Shadee asked.

  “Plan?” Becca stalled. She didn’t know what to say. She hated lies. But she’d given Kaylin her word.

  “To get Lia back?” he prodded.

  God. She’d promised Kaylin she wouldn’t tell. Becca didn’t always listen to her sister, but she wouldn’t go against Kaylin with Lia’s life at stake. Shaken, too confused to know what was right, Becca relied on her sister’s judgment. Besides, Kaylin had street smarts from years of looking out for the family. Still, that didn’t mean she was right to keep the plan from Shadee, but of one thing Becca was certain: she would not risk hurting Lia’s chances to come home.

  “Sawyer and Kaylin are trying to come up with a plan,” she lied and tried to make her voice soft and breezy.

  “So you don’t know? Or you don’t trust me?” he asked, his tone still mellow but the words cutting.

  “Sawyer believes the kidnappers will demand we give up my father’s formula in exchange for Lia. He’s getting the information ready right now.”

  “So you do know.” He raised an eyebrow.

  Becca swore. “I’d hardly invite you over here and ask you to go to the authorities for us if I didn’t trust you.”

  “Unless you intended to pump me for information.”

  “You’re the one asking all the questions,” she retorted, confused where his attitude came from. She’d expected support and comfort, not an argument.

  His next words sounded flat, formal. “Actually, a deputy stopped by my house and asked questions of his own.”

  “Deputy Bryant said they planned to talk to all the neighbors to see if anyone had heard or seen anything suspicious. So what?”

  “My family’s Middle Eastern. Apparently, your father had some Middle Eastern visitors before he died. Now you think one of the men spoke with a Greek or Arabic accent.” He threw the statement out there, and she let it die in silence.

  Uncomfortable, she placed her palm under her cheek to support her head so she could look at him. Finally, he spoke softly. “I’m not what I seem, Becca.”