Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

He shook his head. “But I have a friend of a friend who works for the Federal Reserve. He should be able to track a bank wire from Iran.”

  “A friend of a friend?” He sounded vague. As if he didn’t want to tell her exactly who his contacts were.

  “In the military I did all kinds of networking.”

  Again, his comment seemed ambiguous. He didn’t talk a lot about his past, about what he’d done in the service, or even where he’d served. In fact, he rarely spoke about his personal life at all.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re keeping secrets from me?” she asked.

  “We all have secrets. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t.”

  He was playing games. Giving her hints. She recalled other things he’d told her. I’m not what I seem. We all have secrets. His words haunted her. What wasn’t he telling her? And if he was keeping secrets, was she making a mistake trusting him?

  31

  KAYLIN’S PHONE rang, and she jumped in her car seat, then checked caller ID. “It’s Shadee,” she told Sawyer, then answered the call.

  “I borrowed Shadee’s phone,” Becca said. “Call me back, because I don’t want to run up his minutes, okay?”

  Shadee had warned them not to say much over their cell phones, so a few minutes later Sawyer stopped the car, and Kaylin called back from her new pay-as-you-go phone. She held up the phone so that Sawyer could hear, making the call a four-way since Becca had them on speaker phone.

  Becca sounded subdued, discouraged. “Shadee took me to the Arab-American Center. He’s tied into the Middle Eastern community, and he wanted to see if strangers were in town.”

  “Go on.”

  “We got a lead about large amounts of money transferred from Iran and into an account for Pasha’s Restaurant that Shadee wants to follow—”

  “Did you say Pasha’s?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Pasha’s is the restaurant where Dad and Quinn had lunch once a month.”

  “They did?” Becca sounded as surprised as Kaylin had been to find out her father had maintained contact with his old friend.

  “We should check it out,” Kaylin said.

  Shadee spoke up, his tone firm. “Kaylin, it’s the kind of restaurant where you’ll attract attention, possibly the wrong kind. I know some people. Let me do the checking.”

  “Thank you so much, Shadee. I’d appreciate it.” Kaylin hung up the phone and turned to Sawyer, but before she could say anything, her cell rang again. Caller ID wouldn’t identify the number. “I think it’s them. Lia’s kidnappers.”

  Sawyer took her hand. “You can do this.”

  Fingers shaking, she answered the call on speaker. “Hello.”

  A voice with a thick accent instructed, “If you want your sister to live, bring the formula to Ybor. Sit in the square opposite Muvico Theater. At midnight. Come alone with your cell phone.”

  Before she agreed, the caller hung up. She knew exactly where he wanted her to go. A stone square with tables and chairs and surrounded by many stores, the site would be busy on the weekends, and she could be approached from almost any direction.

  “He said midnight.” She frowned. “Why would he give us so much warning?”

  Sawyer frowned. “Maybe they’re already watching the site and want to make sure no authorities show up. Maybe they want you to worry. Maybe they told you to bring the phone because they’ll give you more instructions after you arrive.”

  Sawyer started her thinking in other directions. “Or maybe they want time to learn if we’ve contacted help.”

  Sawyer squeezed her hand. “Pasha’s is almost right across the street from the theater.”

  “That can’t be a coincidence. I need to go there ahead of time.”

  “To Pasha’s?” Sawyer shook his head. “Didn’t you hear what Shadee said?”

  “I don’t want to go in blind tonight. Besides, Pasha’s is our only lead to find Lia. She could be there. And we still don’t have the formula.”

  Eyes concerned, face intent, Sawyer spoke softly, as if he held back his frustration. “Look, if these people have your sister, you can’t just walk into their restaurant and start asking questions. If they have anything to do with Lia’s kidnapping and they think you’re on to them, they might get scared and kill Lia.”

  “I know. But Lia’s their ticket to getting the formula. I have to believe my sister will be safe as long as these men want to trade her for the formula.”

  “But you don’t know that.”

  She swallowed hard. She didn’t even know if her sister was still alive. “I have to do something. Maybe I could get a job there.”

  “As a waitress? Do you speak Arabic?”

  “No. But I can dance. And if I get a gig, I could wear a veil. And stage makeup would prevent even you from recognizing me.”

  Sawyer gave her a hard look that told her he didn’t think much of her idea. “The restaurant’s probably just a front for the money people. But even if they’re in the booth next to you, do you think these people will talk about their operation in public? Do you think they’ll have Lia stashed in the back room? And even if they did, do you think you could get her out by yourself?”

  “Fine.” Kaylin threw her hands up as if she intended to give in, but she had no intention of giving up. If the restaurant was Lia’s kidnappers’ headquarters, they might slip up. Leave behind a clue. She might see some mail, a message, overhear a conversation at a table or at the bar or on the phone. And just maybe she might find Lia. She sighed to make Sawyer think he’d convinced her. “So I just wait for tonight, give them the fake data, and hope they give Lia back?”

  He nodded. “I know waiting for midnight is hard.”

  Hard? He had no idea. Even if she handed over the data, she didn’t know if they’d free Lia. Every time Kaylin moved or walked, she wondered if Lia was tied up. Every time she spoke, she pictured duct tape over her sister’s mouth. Was Lia thirsty? Hungry? Hurt? She couldn’t bear to think of anyone frightening her sister, injuring her, raping her. The longer they had her, the more time they had to mistreat her, and the less chance she had of coming back. A dozen times every hour, Kaylin wondered if she’d made the right decisions. Was Lia suffering because of Kaylin? If her parents were still alive, would they have handled this better? Should she have gone to the authorities herself, immediately, instead of waiting for Shadee to do it?

  And what about the instructions to meet at midnight? If the authorities slipped up, if the kidnappers fled, the exchange might not even happen. And if there was a chance that Lia was being kept nearby, it made sense that she could be in a back room at Pasha’s.

  Deciding what to do clawed at Kaylin. If she went to Pasha’s and was caught, the kidnappers could retaliate and harm Lia. But if she disguised herself well, only her eyes would show above the veil. Of course, tribal dancers never wore veils, but the restaurant’s customers wouldn’t know that. She’d have to be careful not to catch the veil on fire, but she could manage.

  Sawyer drove back to the house, giving Kaylin time to think. She appreciated Shadee’s willingness to help them and hoped the authorities were diligently working on Lia’s behalf, but she refused to rely solely on others to find her sister. Dancing could be her way in. She’d have to make sure she wasn’t followed. And if Sawyer didn’t agree, he didn’t have to come along.

  She closed her eyes, planning what she would do when they reached the house. Although it was impossible to pick up a gig at the last minute in the restaurant of her choice, Kaylin knew the talent agent who booked the restaurant entertainment in Tampa. If Kaylin could find out who danced at Pasha’s and pay the dancer to stay home, she could take her place.

  Finally, they reached the house. Sawyer opened the front door for her, and they went inside. “Want a sandwich?” he asked.

 
“No, thanks. You go eat.”

  He peered at her. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Nothing.” She’d clearly been silent for too long, arousing his suspicions. “I’m just tired. And worried.”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder and gazed into her eyes. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “You’ve been wonderful. Maybe you could check on Becca and Shadee while I make a few calls.”

  “No problem.” Sawyer took her into his arms and hugged her. “Hang in there.”

  His comforting hug made her feel guilty. Sawyer was so good to her. And now she was lying to him. She didn’t deserve him. But she couldn’t push him away, either. Not when he helped her get through the day. Feeling selfish and guilty had her cut his hug short.

  While he went inside, Kaylin slipped out the front door and drove her car down the block to her dance studio. She hadn’t been back since the night her father died. But she didn’t have time to reminisce. Ignoring the blackened empty lot where the lab had been and the boarded-up Danner home, she parked and strode straight for her desk and her business directory. Last year at a recital, an acquaintance had given her a card, and she’d saved it. After flipping through the file, she found the number and dialed.

  “Hey, Karen. This is Kaylin from Danner Dance Studio.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I need a favor. There’s this guy I want to meet who hangs out at Pasha’s,” she lied. “I’d love to dance there tonight. You think I could pay the regular to stay home?”

  A few minutes later, the gig was set. Kaylin spent a half hour carefully applying heavy stage makeup to her eyelids and another half hour packing her gear, picking out bras and belts, arm bracelets, head pieces, makeup, candles, footgear, music, and a face veil that would cover everything except her eyes. She would dance three sets and hoped she might pick up a lead during her breaks. While the odds were against her, she had to try.

  Her major fear was that if another call from the kidnapper came while she danced on stage, she might not hear the ringer. Setting it to vibrate while she danced wasn’t possible. Her costume had no pockets, no place to hide a phone. However, she planned to give her cell to one of the waitresses, and if it rang, ask them to answer and signal Kaylin to take the call. She’d have to lie, tell the waitress that she had a sick parent in the hospital, but Kaylin was feeling no guilt over such a small deception. Lia’s safety came first.

  Eager to head out before Becca, Mitzy, or Sawyer tried to stop her, she picked up her dance bag. She turned out the light and was about to leave when the door banged open. At the intrusion, Kaylin jumped back, her pulse leaping at the sight of Sawyer. There was no mistaking his powerful shoulders, his lean waist, and his long legs that gobbled the distance between them until he loomed over her.

  Uh-oh. With the makeup on her face and the costume bag in her hand, she couldn’t deny her destination. One more minute, just one more minute, and she would have been gone. Now she had to deal with him, and her stomach knotted.

  Talk about tense. Sawyer’s eyed narrowed to a squint. His jaw clenched as if he were chewing rocks. Between his tight lips and the fire in his eyes, the man was angry enough to spontaneously combust. At any moment she expected steam to rise from the top of his head.

  “You lied to me.” He took her face between his palms, his powerful arms blocking any escape, and pinned her to the wall.

  Her stomach twisted, refused to settle. “I omitted the truth.”

  “It’s not safe to—”

  She tried to slap his hands aside, to brush by. “My sister has been kidnapped. I don’t care about safe.”

  His arms didn’t budge. “Getting yourself killed won’t help Lia.”

  She didn’t bother saying she was simply going to dance. “They won’t hurt me.”

  “Really?”

  “They won’t hurt me,” she repeated. “Not as long as they think I have the formula.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “And you don’t know what they’ll do. They won’t figure out who I am.”

  “What if they do?”

  “I’ll be in a public restaurant. The authorities are tracking my cell by GPS.”

  “Oh, I feel so much better now.”

  “Good.” She pretended not to hear his sarcasm. “Let me pass.”

  He glared at her. “You’re putting yourself in danger, and I’m not letting you go.”

  “Excuse me?” Her own anger fueled her, whipped her into a storm of temper that pounded through her and fought for release. How dare he act as if he were in charge, as if she should obey him? Where did he get off thinking he could tell her what to do? Lia was her sister. Her family.

  She couldn’t have held back her anger if she’d wanted to. And Kaylin didn’t want to. She blasted him in a voice of pure outrage. “What in hell gives you the right to tell me what to do?”

  “This.” He grabbed her shoulders, yanked her to him with hard hands that refused to accept her defiance, and branded her with his lips.

  She’d expected a verbal response. So at first she was so shocked by his actions, she stood there like a dance student on her very first day, bewildered, uncertain, pliant.

  Kaylin inhaled his scent and her mouth responded to his heat, his possessiveness. Dammit. His worry over her might be intoxicating, but her response was ridiculous, impossible, annoying. If he thought he would sway her with a kiss, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  So what if her blood rushed to her head and her ears roared? So what if his tongue danced a tango that left her aching to follow his lead?

  Her brain finally caught up. And she yanked away. “Are you insane?”

  The pulse in his neck pounded. “I’d be insane if I let you go half naked into—”

  She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “It’s a dance costume.”

  “—a hangout of suspected kidnappers.”

  “And I don’t need your permission.” She ducked under his arm and marched out the door, anger vibrating through her. Did the man think that when he kissed her she’d turn into clay that he could shape any way he pleased? Better he find out now that that wasn’t the case. Kaylin might appear reasonable and easygoing, but she would not be told what to do.

  Although her mother had more than supported Kaylin’s efforts to become a Broadway dancer, she’d often told her that her stubbornness would be her downfall, but her father had disagreed. He’d claimed stubbornness had kept Kaylin at the practice bar long after the other students had gone home. Stubbornness had allowed Kaylin to push past aching muscles, sore arms, and cramped toes to become a damn good dancer.

  As a child, Kaylin had danced to please her mother. As a teen, it was an activity they’d shared. Her mother had sewn costumes, taken her to practice and recitals, scrimped on groceries to make sure there was money for Kaylin’s music. After her mother’s death, Kaylin had carried on alone, but when she’d danced, she’d never been lonely, not with her mother’s presence so strong. Her mother had approved of Kaylin’s strength.

  And it was time Sawyer learned she had a backbone, too. Kaylin could stand on her own two feet.

  Up until now Sawyer had been so reasonable. His anger had seemed to roar out of nowhere, like one of those no-name storms that whipped the Florida coast and caused more flooding than a hurricane. She understood that worrying about her had set him off—enough to go all macho on her. But even as one part of her understood he wanted to protect her, she couldn’t soften.

  Lia was her responsibility.

  32

  THE MEN HADN’T shot Lia last night. Instead, they’d laughed at her fear and then dragged her somewhere. Somewhere awful. She’d heard a door clang, a lock click. They’d tossed her inside this cell with no more care than if she’d been garbage. She’d fallen and skinned h
er knees, then jammed her hip, and pain shot through her body. Barefoot, her feet cut and bruised, and with her still wearing her urine-stained pajamas, Lia had never wanted a hot bath and her own clean bed so badly. The bastards hadn’t even bothered to untie her or remove the duct tape from her mouth.

  At first she feared they’d return. Then as silence engulfed her, she feared they would never return, but had left her in her grave. The idea that she might never be found, that Kaylin and Becca might never know what had happened to her, cleared her mind and stiffened her resolve. Suppressing her terror, she lifted her head, stilled her tears. Maybe she could escape.

  In the darkness, Lia had no way to judge the passing of time. But she squirmed, rubbing her head against the floor until she knocked off the headset. She listened hard, but couldn’t make out anything beyond her own breathing. Next, she went to work with her tongue on the duct tape. During her struggle, the hood came off, but it seemed like hours before she loosened the tape enough to scrape it away from her mouth. Not that either accomplishment did her much good. Wherever she was, it was pitch black, and she felt terribly alone.

  But she could breathe. And if she could have reached her wrists with her teeth, she might have ripped off the tape. Yet, with her hands behind her back, Lia couldn’t reach her taped wrists. And she couldn’t slip her hands down to her ankles, either. Too bad she wasn’t as flexible as Kaylin. She’d have to find another way.

  Inching forward in the dark, she bumped into a smooth, metal wall. The floor was metal, too. She must be in the back of a truck or inside a metal storage unit.

  Sitting up, she propped her back against a wall. In her soiled pajamas, her hands and wrists numbed from the lack of circulation, she took a moment to rest. The air smelled musty, as if the place hadn’t been open to fresh air in a long time.

  Were there people around? Should she call for help, or would that bring back her captors?

  She placed her ear against the wall. Nothing.

  She whispered. “Anyone here?”

  But the metal walls just echoed her whisper. While she suspected all the shouting in the world wouldn’t help, she had to try. For several long minutes, Lia shouted, then cursed at her raw throat.