It gave him time to think—too much time—of his cover, the things he did to maintain it. As a child, he’d dreamed of escaping his world of grifts, the street, and his peers. People who preyed on society, people like him. When he hit high school, the Feds got wind of his activities, but couldn’t nail him. So they watched, waiting, and made a deal when his skills became something they could use. He was seduced by an education and the chance to make a difference. Be someone else. Eyes wide open, he’d grabbed that brass ring, thinking anything was better than the life he lived.
Things didn’t work out as he’d supposed. He’d simply added another flaming torch to the many he juggled, forcing himself to continuously up the ante and deal with ever more dangerous predators. He wished he could blame youth for his naïveté, but by then, Caleb was older than dirt. He committed a worse sin than naïveté. It was hope…of getting out of the life, going legit. Now he knew the only way out was at the business end of a muzzle. Like Levine.
One day it would be Caleb’s turn. But not today.
And not for Francesca. Not if he had anything to say about it. She was the pawn in this snatch and grab, but for whom and why? His questions were driving him mad.
An hour ago, the bureau provided him with what information they had in their databases. Facial recognition software identified the abductors, and the Feds were staking out their last known residences, local bus stations, airports, and car rental offices. Caleb told them the men were a lead to the ledger. When he came up short with results, his credibility would take a hit, but Caleb was beyond caring. He needed the Feds and local law to throw a wide net. His people could concentrate on the places they couldn’t go. It was only a matter of time now—crawling, soul-eating time—before these men were found. So there he sat, watching Francesca breathe, feeling as if his will were the only thing keeping her alive.
She was pale, her normal glow gone, and seemed more sculpted marble than flesh but for the growing bruise on her jaw. Caused by a fist or the collision? He dreaded the answer, and just thinking about it buffeted his control with a pure rage…because if those men hit her…
He’d kill them. Kill them. And if it was the van’s crash…it was his fault.
The possibilities of how it happened stripped him of pride. The van jumping the curb. Finding her unconscious. Yet he couldn’t regret giving the order to Chuck, risking the shot. Those men…they could have done anything to her. He couldn’t allow that level of risk. So he’d ordered the shot and now owned the consequences. Just one more sin. Not his worst. The worst was falling in love with her…or maybe convincing her to fall in love with him.
His phone rang. “Yeah.”
“I got them,” Chuck said. “I. Got. Them! Woot!”
“You at the Dorchester address?”
“On our way now. Are we handing them off, or what?”
“I want them ready to talk.” He hung up and studied her features, and then focused on her bruise. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Then he left, not making eye contact with the two uniformed officers waiting outside the door. To them, he was a notorious criminal, and it confused them why he was allowed access to a billionaire’s daughter. It confused Caleb, too, because in the end, he’d always been, always would be, a street rat. Today, he was glad of it. It made him hard and ruthless, and he was looking forward to making someone pay for what was done to her. Someone. Anyone. Because he was tired of paying alone.
Down the hospital’s elevator, through the parking lot, he was behind the wheel in minutes, engine roaring. Ignoring speed limits bought him time and got him to his Dorchester address in under twenty minutes. He shifted into park and opened the door, not taking the time to remove the keys. Running to the house’s porch, the closed front door swung open, and his guy Webster appeared, pointing deeper into the house. Caleb hustled past him, down the dilapidated hallway, his chest rising and falling, a bellows for his pent-up rage.
Ahead, Chuck stood in the center of the hall, his thumb pointing to a room to his right. Chuck disappeared inside, and then Caleb followed. He found three men. Two were Caleb’s, leaning against the back wall, in shadow, and the other was the van’s driver, zip-tied to a metal chair, center room. He’d been tenderized.
Still in his black outfit, the guy flinched when four quick steps brought Caleb to his side, towering over him, right fist cocked midstride. Caleb planted a full body weight punch in his face. It forced the driver’s weight back, tipping the chair. Caleb saved him from falling by grabbing his shirt, then recocked his fist, only to discover the damn man was out cold.
“Shit!” He shook him until the chair tipped again, but got no response, so he allowed it to crash to the vinyl flooring.
“Here. Let me.” Chuck threw a bucket of water on the tied man. Nothing. Chuck nudged him with his foot, got no response, and then squatted, lifting the driver’s eyelid. “He’s out. That’s okay. We’ve got three of them.”
“Fuck.” Caleb led the way to the next room over, but before he opened the door, he forced himself to chill. It took more time than he was comfortable with, but when he turned the knob and strode in, he’d gotten his priorities straight. He needed information, not vengeance. This guy was also zip-tied by his ankles and wrists on a metal chair. His lip was split and his right eye swollen.
“Talk.” Caleb crossed his arms, glaring. The man spat, missing him by a foot. Caleb lunged, grabbing his neck and squeezed until the man turned red and struggled, panic widening his eyes, baring his teeth. Then Caleb head-butted him, and kept his forehead there, grinding it against the man’s. His dark hair fell over them, creating a grim, focused intimacy. He was so furious, and desperately trying not to kill this man. Relaxing his throat enough to speak was becoming progressively harder as the answers he sought remained out of reach. “I want the name of who hired you,” he growled. “Give it to me, and I set you and your friends free. Don’t, I’ll break every bone in your damn body. One at a time. Choose.” Caleb released his neck, stepping back.
Gasping, sputtering, his eyes were wild. “They’ll kill me. They’ll know if I talk.”
“You haven’t survived me yet.” Caleb grabbed his throat again, waiting for a sign the bastard understood Caleb was inches from killing him.
“Boss, we got one more,” Chuck said. “Kill this guy, too, and the next won’t dick around.” The man squealed, nodding. “No-no, I-I…it’s Scrivener. Scrivener wants the girl!”
His world froze. Scrivener. This was the second time he’d heard that monster’s name in the last week, and Caleb did not believe in coincidences. His past had come back to haunt him, and evidence was mounting that Francesca was taken because of him, not her father. “Release them.”
Chuck recoiled. “Smith…I moved heaven and earth to get them here!”
The tied man was frantic, staring between Caleb and Chuck. “We have a deal! Smith made a deal!”
Caleb did make a deal, and had built a career on his word. “Release them when I leave.” Or he just might kill them anyway. Knowing the Feds, the MPD or Scrivener, they wouldn’t last long on the street.
“And us? We square?” Chuck said.
“Until next time.” With people like Chuck, there always was a next time.
Caleb left the house heavy with dread. He was having a hard time focusing, but knew he couldn’t put the call to Marnie off any longer. Hustling to the car, he slipped behind the wheel and activated the Bluetooth. She picked up on the first ring.
“Caleb? You all right? I heard what happened to Francesca.” Marnie sounded stressed, so he hesitated about reading her into his suspicions. She was pregnant, and didn’t need this worry on top of the Feds strong-arming her, but just in case, she needed to know and prepare.
He shifted into gear. “I think Scrivener found me. You’re not safe.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Stop treating me like an invalid. I’m fine.” On the couch, Francesca sat in her robe signing weddin
g contracts. She was halfway through a stack with Caleb’s bold signature already on them. As Caleb had proposed, the wedding was going to be huge. On paper, anyway. As long as the invitations weren’t in the mail, she refused to panic, but they were getting to the point where it was time to buy the stamps.
It had been a week since her release from the hospital, and they’d already passed her father’s original deadline for the wedding, but under the circumstances, even her father couldn’t complain. He said he was willing to be patient…but not too patient.
Caleb had designated himself her official babysitter. He’d left her side this week only for company business. When he wasn’t hovering, security shadowed her even inside the mansion. It was ridiculous. She argued her father was a businessman, not some Saudi prince, but Caleb was adamant, so she shut up and resigned herself to living in a veritable prison until they knew why she’d been kidnapped again and who’d done it.
“You’re not fine. You’re not equipped to handle what you went through.” Caleb’s tone triggered her hackles.
“Who is?” He was going too far, acting as if she were the physically and emotionally crippled Laura from Glass Menagerie. It had been fun…for two days…but he hadn’t touched her since the accident. Well, technically, he touched her, but hadn’t made love to her. She’d feel him slip into bed, rousing her from sleep, but instead of making love to her, he’d gather her in his arms until she drifted off to sleep again. He was always gone by morning. She feared he was losing interest, which made signing these contracts even more painful. She missed his touch, dammit, and her dreams had become positively X-rated as her hunger grew.
“Caleb, stop hovering,” Marnie said. The wedding planner was doing some of her own hovering, sitting to Francesca’s left as Caleb sat on her right. Marnie’s excuse was the paperwork signing, and Caleb’s? Francesca hadn’t a clue.
“She’s had a shock.” Caleb rubbed her back, looking comfortable on the cushions. His adamancy wasn’t defensive; in fact, as he’d repeatedly said, he would not be moved on the subject. No, his tone was more a decree than a defense. Francesca has had a shock, and that’s final, therefore she shall obey me. He was acting as if everyone else was out of their minds. It wasn’t true.
The wedding planners had been told about her abduction. Francesca had insisted. If they were going to risk being around her, they should at least know the risk. It was only fair.
“Yeah. She had a shock a week ago,” Marnie mumbled under her breath.
“Excuse me?” Caleb arched a brow, as if daring the wedding planner to repeat herself. Francesca laid her hand on his arm, not wanting him to scare the woman.
“Hmm?” Marnie smile was devoid of any acknowledgment of undercurrent in the room. “I said we’re having a problem ordering your white roses. It’s July and the local florists are competing with cotillions in the south.”
“Really? You come to me with supply problems?” Caleb grimaced. Francesca didn’t understand his attitude. Surely issues like this must be common in the wedding planning business.
“Caleb will help,” Francesca said. “He’s the type that knows a guy who knows a guy. Isn’t that true?” She patted his arm, happy to see Marnie amiable to the suggestion. “I’m sure he knows someone who owes him a favor in the florist business.”
“Yay.” Marnie pumped her fists close to her chest, her smile strained. “Caleb saves the day.” She held out a few papers, indicating he should take them. “Maybe you can find a way out of this problem.”
Dane and Lucas were smiling, but staring at the carpet.
Francesca nudged Caleb. “He’d be happy to help, wouldn’t you, Caleb?” This whole wedding planner thing was his idea. It was only right he should help them when they needed it.
Caleb took the papers, reluctantly, and she honestly couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. This wedding wasn’t real, their efforts a waste of time, and what with people trying to kidnap her, it felt like an even worse waste of time and resources. He frowned at the papers, and when she tried to peek, he pulled them away from her, grimacing.
“You need to relax,” he said. “Leave the work to us.”
She shrugged. “Just trying to help.”
Lucas flashed Francesca a quick smile before addressing Caleb. “These vendors aren’t receptive to our…normal strong-arming.”
Caleb studied the paper, and she could see him grow progressively pensive. Then he folded it and dropped it to his lap, exchanging glances with Dane. “Where’d you find them?”
Dane shrugged. “It’s complicated, but let’s just say I have connections, and we were able to swoop them up before others could get them.”
Caleb nodded. “What did these…vendors have to say for themselves? And at what price?”
“Caleb, really,” Francesca said. “It’s supply and demand, right? Marnie said weddings are cutthroat. If they’re willing to stiff their current contracts, we can’t trust them to stand by any contract they sign with us. Maybe we should change the flowers we want, rather than risk having none on the big day.”
Dane’s smile was so encouraging, she found herself preening before she could stop herself. “She’s right,” he said. “There are always consequences for betraying a client. These vendors are afraid.”
“They’re afraid of the wrong people.” Marnie’s tone did, indeed, sound cutthroat.
Caleb nodded. “I think if we cut these…” He glanced at Francesca. “If we cut these vendors loose, they might lead us to…others that could help us.”
“See?” Francesca laughed. “Caleb agrees with me. It’s better to work with people you trust. Or you could just ask nicely. Surely if they can’t supply the white roses, they’re going to want to assist us in any way possible to assure we buy the other flowers we’ll need from them. You know, for the pews, the centerpieces on the reception tables.” Caleb listened, nodding.
“That is protocol.” Lucas arched a brow, exchanging glances with Dane, who nodded, almost reluctantly. “We’ll continue talks with these vendors first. See where that gets us. I think patience is in order.”
“Are you shitting me?” Caleb’s tone was clipped. He’d vacillated between mopey, irritated, and pensive since she’d woken at the hospital, but there was no excuse for rudeness.
“Caleb. They’re trying to help,” she said.
“Fine.” Caleb handed the paperwork back to Marnie, acting like a lion too long caged. “But when that protocol fails, and it will, do what I say.”
“We’re on the same page.” Dane nodded.
Marnie’s smile was forced, but it relaxed into a real smile when she turned to Francesca. “Are you sure you’re up for the fitting?”
“Fitting?” Caleb shook his head. “She’s got to rest.”
“Caleb,” Francesca droned, closing her eyes for a moment, to better control her impatience. “You have to stop treating me like I will break. If I were an invalid, I think I’d notice! I’m a psychologist—”
“You’re a college kid.”
“Going for my PhD! I’m twenty-five!”
“You’d be considered middle-aged in 1900.” Marnie’s eyes twinkled, making Francesca suspect she enjoyed goading Caleb.
“Thank you, Marnie,” Caleb growled, “but barring an outbreak of Spanish flu, I think we should set any longevity goals to twenty-first century standards. She’s had a shock.” Caleb put his hand on Francesca’s thigh, and as it was intended to be, it felt like a great weight. “Stay.”
She glared. “I’m not a dog.”
“Did I say she was a dog?” Caleb turned to the men in the room, looking for backup.
“Distinctly did not hear canine accusations,” Lucas said.
Dane made a noise that sounded like, “harrumph.”
Marnie clapped and shooed the men from the parlor. “Go. You have other preparations? Yes? Yes. So do it, while Francesca tries on her dress.” Caleb didn’t move, and the other two men waited, grins on their faces.
Fran
cesca winked at Marnie. “This robe is coming off with or without an audience.”
“Out.” Caleb hopped off the couch and corralled Dane and Lucas. “You heard the woman. Out.” He shepherded them through the door, but not before pointing at Francesca. “You. Go nowhere. Stay with Marnie.”
Francesca nodded. When the door closed, she took a steadying breath. “He’s driving me batty.”
“He’s in love.” The wedding planner was gauging her reaction, and suddenly Francesca didn’t know how to act. Caleb didn’t love her. He was just a good actor.
“Is it that obvious?” She fluttered her eyes, making a joke out of it.
“When a man looks at a woman like he looks at you…he’s in love.” Marnie didn’t appear impressed. When weddings were your bread and butter, Francesca supposed that must be an occupational hazard.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked
Marnie brows rose in surprise. “I’m married to Dane.”
That was news. Shocking, actually. Francesca would have thought something like that would have come up in conversation, and it was hard to imagine tiny Marnie married to Dane. Though clean-cut and dressed like a Harvard alumnus, there was something about the man that seemed…dangerous. “Has he always worn pastels?”
Marnie produced an inelegant snort. “Business dress code. Enough about me. Let’s get this fitting done. The seamstress is amazing. I believe you’ll be ecstatic with the results.”
“Oh,” Francesca said. Yeah. The fitting. It made her sad, wishing her mother was alive so she could experience this moment with her. “My mother’s wedding dress. We look a lot alike. Certainly had a similar build.”
“You okay?” Marnie put down the paperwork she was holding and rested a hand on Francesca’s arm.
Francesca wasn’t sure. It was an emotional moment, and should be. She was trying on her wedding gown, for heaven’s sake! But in her fantasy world, she was in love with a man who loved her. This moment was supposed to be one of the happiest moments in her life, that would lead to even happier moments…like her wedding day.
Seduced by Sin (Unlikely Hero) Page 17