Editor's Choice Volume I - Slow summer Kisses, Kilts & kraken, Negotiating point

by Stacey Shannon, Spencer Pape Cindy, Giordano Adrienne

  Janet Fink, the agency’s tech geek, is conflicted about working alongside the man she’s irresistibly attracted to. Though she’s determined not to risk her career by getting involved with a coworker, especially a superior, she can’t forget the passionate kiss they once shared…

  With the kidnappers’ deadline fast approaching, Gavin and Janet must combine their skills to bring the missing woman home alive. But their undeniable chemistry is making it difficult to keep their relationship purely professional…

  25,000 words

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  At 10:20 a.m. Gavin stepped into Mike Taylor’s office and found his boss sitting at his pristine, glass-topped desk, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his dark hair sticking up in the back.

  He checked his watch. Yep. 10:20.

  I’m screwed.

  The man’s appearance was typically as neat as his office. His hair sticking up? This early? In Mike’s OCD world? Unacceptable.

  Whatever Gavin had been summoned for had to be a disaster. Stabbing pin pricks crawled up his neck. He shifted his gaze left. Vic Andrews, Taylor Security’s executive vice president, leaned against the window sill with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed and a general I’m-pissed-off-at-the-world aura.

  Screwed.

  Gavin stepped forward. “What’s up?”

  Mike held his hands prayerlike in front of him, his fingers mashed together until his veins popped.

  Screwed in a big way.

  Vic boosted off the window sill. “Roxann has been kidnapped.”

  Bam! Forget the warm-up. Gavin threw his shoulders back and those pin pricks turned to dagger stabs. Had he heard right? He shifted to Mike. “Your Roxann?”

  Mike nodded.

  “Have they made contact? Ransom?”

  “Not yet. I got a call a few minutes ago. They said no cops and to expect communication in the next hour.”

  “Where’d they grab her?”

  Mike looked down, shook his head and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. We left together this morning. She was heading to the lake house to get ready for the Fourth of July party on Saturday. I’ve got Gizmo getting me a trace on her car.”

  That wouldn’t do them any good. Even the most inexperienced kidnapper would know a high-end Mercedes would have factory-installed tracking. Couple that with the car being owned by the man who ran not only Chicago’s, but one of the nation’s most elite private security companies and it was a no-brainer they’d be able to locate the car. The kidnappers probably abandoned it somewhere. Mike knew that and Gavin wouldn’t voice it.

  “Are you considering calling the FBI?”

  Vic moved to the side of the desk. “No feds.”

  Gavin ignored him. “Mike?”

  “No FBI.”

  Lost that round.

  “The FBI,” Mike continued, “has to play by the rules. We don’t. I want my wife back without having to deal with red tape.”

  “Damn straight,” Vic added. “We got everything we need. We find her and we go in and get her. End of story.”

  Gavin finally looked at him. “End of story? What’s wrong with you? You and your merry men charging in there with your flash bangs and weapons will escalate the situation.”

  “Screw that,” Vic said. “These assholes won’t know what hit them. Once we find her, we’ll be in there so fast they won’t have time to draw on us. Besides, what the hell do we need the FBI for when we have you?”

  Gavin breathed deep. A sound argument considering, prior to six months ago, he’d spent the last twelve years as an FBI hostage negotiator. “Has it occurred to you that we are not in some war-torn country? You’re talking about doing a takedown on U.S. soil. In case you weren’t aware, if someone gets shot, there are laws against that sort of thing.”

  Mike put both hands up. “Enough.” He dragged his gaze from Vic to Gavin. “Look, Gavin, all due respect, I’m not calling the feds.”

  “Thank you,” Vic said.

  “But we’re not going tactical either. Yet. Gavin will negotiate her release.”

  There it was. The assignment of his career.

  “Mike,” Vic said. “Why waste time trying to head-shrink our way out of this?”

  Jab number one. Gavin folded his arms, let the anger inside flash and burn before reacting. Considering Vic was married to Mike’s sister and his own emotions were likely in play, he’d give him a pass on the head-shrinker comment. “We’re not head-shrinking. We don’t know who these people are or what they want. Let’s figure that out and then make a plan.”

  A ding sounded from Mike’s email. He spun to the laptop, shook the mouse and stared at the screen. The muscle in his jaw throbbed. “Here it is.”

  Gavin swung around the desk to read over Mike’s shoulder. Within the email was a link. No message. Mike clicked the link before Gavin could warn him about possible computer viruses. Not a top priority when the man’s wife had been kidnapped.

  A video popped on the screen and Roxann’s classically beautiful face—the blue eyes, the perfect cheekbones, the blond hair, appeared. The background was a white wall, no markings or hanging artwork. No intel there.

  Before clicking the play arrow, Mike blew out a heaving breath that sounded like it had stripped him raw. Probably had.

  Gavin touched his shoulder. “Let me do this. Take a walk or something.”

  Mike shook him off, clicked the button and they watched Roxann glance beyond the camera. “Now?” she said.

  True to her legendary control—or maybe it was her experience with running a major market newspaper—her voice stayed steady and direct. Roxann Taylor might be a rock star when it came to putting on a brave face, but he’d spent last weekend with this couple. He’d seen her relax and banter with her husband over his goading, teasing comments. The stoic person on this video was indicative of Roxann Taylor the controlled executive. Not Roxann Taylor the loving wife.

  That alone ripped into Gavin and his chest ached for the man sitting in front of him.

  Someone must have signaled Roxann because she looked down, her blond hair falling in front of her face as she read from notes. The video had a grainy quality to it. Cell phone. Had to be.

  “My captors are part of the Freedom Today group. Their leader, the most-esteemed Jackson Spelling, is wrongly incarcerated for plotting to murder a judge. Mr. Spelling is innocent and the Freedom Today group demands his release. Further, the group expects my husband to use his government contacts to help with Mr. Spelling’s release. The group also demands that my newspaper run a front-page story on Mr. Spelling’s wrongful conviction. You will be contacted again at noon today with instructions.”

  The screen went black. A breath-stealing silence hung heavy in the room, the energy shot through with nervous tension. “Play it again.”

  Vic waved a hand, the white of his dress shirt flashing in Gavin’s peripheral vision. “Mike, go for a walk. We’ll deal with this.”

  “I’m fine.”

  But he didn’t move and they continued to stare at him, waiting for him to play the video. Gavin followed Mike’s gaze to a solid crystal paperweight that looked heavy enough to split someone’s head.

  Gavin reached for the rounded crystal which, indeed, packed some heft and handed it to his boss, who glanced up at him, his eyes hard. Yes, I’ve “head-shrinked” you. “Go for it. Let loose so you can focus.”

  With that, Mike jumped out of his chair and launched the paperweight against the wall with the force of a ninety-mile-per-hour fastball. Upon its booming impact, the paperweight shattered, spraying shards of pulverized glass over the sofa and floor. Helluva mess there. “Better?”

  Mike sucked in air, held it a minute and let it go. “Yes.”

  “Good. Play that video again.”

 
Mike clicked the button and the video started. Nothing. No car horns. No television or radio in the background. Just Roxann and a drab off-white wall.

  “Okay,” Gavin said. “Can I bring Janet in on this?”

  Janet Fink. Resident tech geek. The woman could do things with computers that nearly gave him an orgasm.

  “Of course,” Mike said. “We’ll use every asset we have.”

  Gavin reached for the desk phone and dialed.

  “Hi, Michael,” Janet said.

  “It’s Gavin. In Mike’s office. Can you get here ASAP?”

  “On my way.”

  Two minutes later she rushed through the door, her hesitant gaze blazing around the room to the three of them. Welcome to the nightmare. She must have sprinted up the two flights of stairs, but her shoulder-length honey-blond hair remained secure in a hair clip. The look only accentuated her softly rounded face and big brown eyes. She wore a sleeveless blouse and snug-fitting pants that emphasized her petite frame. The woman couldn’t be more than 105 pounds.

  Avoiding his gaze, she turned to Mike still sitting at his desk. “What’s happening?”

  Gavin took that one. “We have a situation. Roxann has been kidnapped.”

  Janet’s dark eyes finally shifted to him. “Kidnapped?”

  No one answered. She accepted the silence as affirmation and faced Mike. “My God. I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  Gavin waved her behind the desk. “Take a look at this video. I think they used a cell phone. Can you get me the number and location?”

  She slid around the desk and Mike signaled her to his chair. “Watch the whole thing. We’re gonna need you to work your contacts for info on this group.”

  “While she’s doing that,” Gavin said, “how do you want to handle the request about the story in the Banner?”

  Mike shook his head. “Roxi would never go for that.”

  “Not a chance.” This from Vic. “She won’t be bullied into a story.”

  “Do the executives at the Banner know about this?” Gavin asked.

  “Only her secretary. Rox was supposed to stop at the office on the way to the lake. When she didn’t show, Mrs. Mackey called me. I had to tell her.”

  Vic straightened. “Let’s wait for the call and tell them we’re sending a reporter. We’ll send one of our guys in. He can report back and we move. Done deal.”

  Again with going tactical. Pain in the ass.

  “No,” Gavin said. “You want to send one of your guys in, fine. I can use the intel for negotiations.”

  “Listen, head-shrinker.” Vic jabbed his finger. “I’m not dicking around with you. We need to get her out of there.”

  Yeah, hello. The head-shrinker thing was starting to piss him off. That would be a fight for later though. “I’m not risking her getting hurt when you knuckle-draggers bust in there and cause panic. We have no idea what we’re dealing with. We don’t know what kind of weapons they have or if they’re capable of using them. Let me get information first.”

  If the knuckle-dragger comment had even dented Vic’s buzz-cut blond head, it didn’t show. Mike once again held his hands to them. “Gavin is right. We need information. Let’s get that and decide on a plan.”

  “Mike!” Vic hollered.

  Mike spun on him and, despite being a few inches shorter than Vic, he had a way of getting large with people. “We’re doing it Gavin’s way. She’s pregnant. I can’t take a chance.”

  And, whoa, everyone stopped moving. Including maybe Gavin’s heart.

  “Holy shit,” Vic said.

  Mike puffed out his cheeks and blew air. “I didn’t want to tell you that way. I found out this morning. We wanted to tell everyone this weekend.”

  * * *

  Janet’s fingers trembled as they flew over the keyboard. What did one say to a man who found out he would be a father on the same day of his wife’s kidnapping?

  Congratulations?

  I’m sorry?

  No idea. But she could keep working this video and hope the owner didn’t turn off the phone’s geotagging function. Geotags would tell them where the video was shot and that was what she needed.

  “Jesus, Mike,” Vic said.

  Janet glanced up at him, hoping he wouldn’t be his typical free-wheeling self and mouth off. She went back to the screen in front of her. Come to Mama. “Got it!”

  “Where?” Vic said.

  “Keep your shorts on, boss, and I’ll get an address.” She went to a map, typed in the long and lat. “Denson, Illinois. By Kankakee. Major farm country there.” She jotted the address.

  Vic snatched the paper from her. “I’ll check it out.”

  “Let’s not do anything stupid,” Mike said. “I’d go with you but the next call will come soon.”

  “I’m good. If I can verify she’s there, we’ll know where to start and head-shrinker here can do his thing.”

  Janet sighed. “You know, that head-shrinker thing is just rude.”

  His response was an out-of-character—at least when it came to her—glare and she curled her toes inside her ballet slipper shoes.

  “Take it easy, girlfriend. We’re all on the same team. Besides, he can take it.”

  With that, Vic walked out leaving Michael shaking his head. “Gavin—”

  “Forget it, Mike. Bigger things to mess with here. Vic and I will work it out. Eventually. Janet, if we confirm her location, we’ll set up a command post and you’ll need to get us wired.”

  “No problem. I’ll head downstairs and get what we’ll need. I’ll make calls, see who knows what about this Freedom Today group. If they’re a major player, my contacts at the CIA will have them on a list somewhere.”

  * * *

  An hour later, with Vic on speakerphone, Gavin stood next to Mike’s desk counting down the eighteen minutes until their next communication from the kidnappers. Janet sat in one of the leather guest chairs in front of the desk, notepad in hand.

  “What have you got?” Mike asked Vic.

  “It’s a farmhouse. There’s a car parked in the driveway. No activity outside. Shades are pulled. I got a plate number for the car. And relax, head-shrinker, I didn’t go near the house.”

  Pain in the ass. “So, no way to tell if Roxann is inside?”

  “No.”

  Janet raised her hand to get their attention. “When they call, why don’t we have Mike ask to speak to Rox, then I can get a location for the phone. If the address is a match for the farmhouse, we know that’s where she is.”

  “Beautiful,” Vic said.

  Love this woman. Maybe they’d get Roxann and her unborn baby released unharmed. “Vic, check the area for somewhere to set up a command post.”

  “On it.”

  “We’ll keep you posted.” Mike disconnected, ran his hands over his face and sat back. “Now we wait?”

  Gavin nodded. “Now we wait.” He turned to Janet. “How confident are you that you can grab the phone’s location?”

  She glanced at Mike, then back to Gavin. “In my downtime, I’ve hacked into the top three cell carrier’s systems. If the phone is part of one of their networks, I can get its location. I retrieved the number from when they sent the video. All I’d have to do this time is check the location of the phone they’re talking on and make sure it matches.”

  “I love you,” Mike said.

  She shrugged. “I’m a geek who likes a challenge. I thought having access to cell carrier networks would come in handy at some point. If they use a different phone, I’ll have to get that number.”

  Mike’s cell phone rang and he scooped it up. “Blocked number.”

  They’re early. Interesting.

  Leaping from her chair, Janet shooed Mike from his spot near the computer. Quick little woman, that one.

  “If it’s them,” Gavin said to Mike, “don’t agree to anything. Fact finding here.”

  Mike hit the speaker button. “Michael Taylor.”

  “This is Joe Smith from Freedom T
oday. If you meet our demands, your wife will be returned unharmed.”

  “Put her on.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not agreeing to any demands until I know she’s okay.”

  Muffled voices came through the speaker. Joe Smith probably put his hand over the phone. More than one captor. And Joe Smith? Could he have picked a better fake name? Totally generic.

  More muffled sounds filled the otherwise silent office and Mike tapped his fingers against the edge of his desk. For some reason, Gavin thought of the fingerprints that would be left on the glass. He supposed it was easier than staring at Mike. Who waited. For the sound of his pregnant wife’s voice.

  Gavin breathed in when his mind flashed to his mother crying herself to sleep after his dad had died. As he’d done many times, he stored the bits of memory, one by one, into his brain’s hideaways.

  The muffling noise from the other end of the phone disappeared. A beep sounded. Speakerphone. “Hi,” Roxann said in her steady, control-freak voice.

  Mike straightened, closed his eyes for a second and dropped his head to his chest. In that moment, Gavin imagined a bizarre combination of grief and respite pressing his boss further and further into turmoil.

  “Are you hurt?” Mike asked his wife.

  “No. I’m okay.”

  “That’s enough.” Male voice—Joe Smith. “Now you’ve spoken to her. She is unharmed and if you want her to stay that way, her newspaper will run an article we’ve prepared in tomorrow’s paper. It will be emailed to your account. By 5:00 p.m. tomorrow, we want Jackson Spelling released from prison.”

  Gavin rolled his hand for Mike to keep talking. Any new info would help.

  “Look,” Mike said, but the line went dead.

  He squeezed the phone, his fingers straining against it before he ran his thumb over the screen. Along with the connection, his link to Roxann had been severed and it left Gavin with a gut-burn that might tear a hole in him.