“I’m so sorry. These heels are ridiculous.” She swept her hand down toward her mile-long legs and Hickman was too busy ogling to notice her slip his phone into her purse. He knew the remote cloning device located inside the bag was now sending the contents of the phone to Elena for retrieval and dissection. Damn, she was good. He could almost forget that her life’s vocation was taking things that belonged to other people. “Could we sit down?”
“Yes, of course,” Hickman said, making sure he got the seat next to her on the loveseat and moving in close. Asshole. His daughter was missing, his wife was likely doped on a pill the doc gave her, and he was trying to cop a feel. Rush remained standing. “My condolences on the death of your father. The earl was a great friend of the United States.”
Livvy bit her bottom lip, her one tell about her emotions when something upset her. She’d been close to her father, their age difference making him more like a grandfather. While her mother had lived the jet-set life with lovers in Monte Carlo, her older brothers had largely ignored her and she been raised by the staff when allowed to be at home and not shipped off to boarding school. He’d sent flowers to the service, their only communication post-divorce, and he still had the short note of thanks she’d sent him. Rush shook off the memory, getting his head back in the game.
“Thank you, but we’re here to get Katrina back.” Livvy shifted the conversation back to the point with no hint of censure in her voice. She was good at the diplomacy thing.
“Yes.” Hickman glanced at them all. “I sent the voice recording from the kidnapper to your people at MacKenzie Security. It didn’t say anything except that they had her and would be in touch within the next twenty-four hours with a ransom demand.”
“I heard it. We all did,” Brant said. “Next time we need to demand proof of life.”
“Proof of…” Hickman’s face paled and it was the first time he’d shown any kind of normal reaction as a father. “They won’t get any money if they kill her.”
“The fact that they haven’t asked for money at this point means that it isn’t their reason for the kidnapping,” Rush said, his eyes focused on the senator’s face for any clue about what was really going on here. His gut told him that this was about Hickman. “So, I have to ask again: who the fuck did you piss off?”
“Rush…” Brant warned but he ignored him.
“I’m going to risk my ass and the lives of all the people who are going to help me get Katrina back in one piece for you. You need to tell me what dirty, rotten things you’ve been up to and tell me now. I don’t mind getting my conscience dirty, you know this, but don’t send me out there in the goddam dark.”
Hickman stared at him, his eyes shooting daggers and every kind of modern and ancient weaponry he could. Yeah, they hated each other’s guts, but that was the same old song on a different fucking day.
“I’ve recently had to disappoint some of my contacts in the Ukraine.”
Rush chewed on that for a minute. “What you mean is that you promised something you can’t deliver to some assholes who are the mob or connected to the mob in Eastern Europe.”
“My position on the committee for foreign relations requires me to deal with people from more volatile nations. It sometimes happens that they are related to some form of criminal activity. We do our best to navigate the murky waters to achieve security for the United States and our citizens who live abroad.”
What a crock of shit.
“And the side deals you make for yourself are just icing on the cake,” Rush added.
Hickman glared but he didn’t deny it. He knew better than to try and deny it with Rush. He was one of the few men who knew just how many closets full of skeletons this man had. It was why he no longer did any kind of business with him.
“So, just drop the speech and tell me what we need to know to get your daughter back.”
Hickman dropped his gaze and sighed. “I have no idea where they could have taken her.”
Just before he broke eye contact Rush saw the fear there. One of these people scared him worse than the others, so much that he was hesitant to tell them to save his own daughter.
“Who?”
“The Ukrainians. The Italians. There is a group in Africa I have had dealings with this past month or so.”
“Jesus, is there a list?” Brant asked and Rush almost laughed at his tone of incredulity.
“There’s always a list,” Rush offered.
Livvy watched the activity from her perch on the loveseat, her eyes wide with surprise that almost disguised the underlying distaste she obviously had for this entire conversation. Her voice was calm and cool when she spoke.
“Mr. Scott says that you sent us your e-mail and other relevant documents. I’ll review them and reach out to my contacts to see if anyone has been approached for alternative, high-end merchandise.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” Hickman said.
“With the countries you listed and no ransom requested, we have to explore the possibility that Katrina will be offered as a commodity. She’s white, young, and sexually inexperienced.” The truth was blunt but she delivered it with kindness.
“Oh God,” the senator said, his hand shaking a little. “Please don’t mention that to my wife…her mother.”
“So, you understand how you need to cough up a name. Open up the closet and let all the boogeymen out. We don’t have time to fuck around,” Rush interjected. He was getting frustrated at this song and dance. “You know that this has to be serious if I’m here at all. I think the last thing I said to you was—”
“I’ll see you in hell,” Hickman finished.
“Exactly. So don’t fuck me around and don’t get your daughter killed.” Rush advanced on the seated group, uncrossing his arms to point at Hickman. “You know that if anyone can get her out I can, and I’m telling you I will.” He pointed at Livvy. “She can find her if you’re honest with us.”
An older woman with a navy blue suit and a concerned expression entered the room after a brisk knock. “Senator, you have to leave in ten minutes if you’re going to the Australian Embassy dinner.”
Hickman rose, waving her off. “I think I might cancel…”
“No.” Livvy rose to her feet, her hand on his arm. She looked at Brant. They had discussed that she would look for a way to get the senator out of the house so they could have a snoop around. “Shouldn’t he keep to his regular schedule?”
Brant stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “Yes. That would be best.”
“Fine.” He looked at the woman. “Tell them to bring the car around and I’ll be down after I change.”
“Senator, we’ll be in touch,” Livvy said, leaning in to brush her cheek against his. Rush watched closely, knowing she was taking the opportunity to return the phone. He only hoped it would tell them what Hickman clearly refused to disclose.
Brant and Livvy filed out and Rush trailed behind them, clenching his hands in fists to resist the urge to grab him and execute enough force on a painful pressure point to force him to tell him what they needed to know.
“Don’t be so high and mighty with me, Rush,” Hickman snarled under his breath. “I know what you are. I know what you’ve done.”
“I did what my country asked me to do. I should’ve known better when you were the messenger. I was a grown man and I made my choice to get in bed with the devil. Your daughter is a kid and she can’t help who her sperm donor is. My choice is on me.” He moved past him but stopped, turning to face the senator. Rush lowered his voice as he leaned in close. “But if Katrina dies because you’re a shithead, that’s on you.”
And then he turned and walked out, promising himself that he would bring the little girl home even if her father didn’t deserve her.
Chapter Four
“Atticus, you were right,” Olivia said as soon as the door closed on the large, dark SUV.
She watched him in the passenger seat as he stilled and then slowly turned to look a
t her, a dark eyebrow raised. Her stomach fluttered, a million butterflies. Bloody hell, he was still gorgeous. Actually, he’d been hot before but the hair pushed him over the edge into lush. She wanted to peel off all his clothes, wrap her hand around a hank of his hair, and force him down between her legs.
Damn. Three years and all she’d accomplished was becoming even hotter for the one guy who didn’t want her.
“Write that down. I don’t think she ever said I was right before, even when we were married.” He flashed an unexpected wolfish grin as he glanced at Brant behind the wheel. “Except when she stated that marrying her was the smartest thing I ever did.”
“You are an ass,” she rebuked him, cutting her eyes to focus outside of the window of the car toward the senator’s house. Two story, Georgian townhouse with an ornamental brick wall in the front and a lower wall around the perimeter. She wasn’t proficient in DC real estate, but she knew this was a posh neighborhood, full of politicos and the generally rich and well-to-do. This was the United States’ equivalent to a peerage and all the earmarks were present—maids answering the door, expensive cars visible in driveways, and security systems.
“Did we get anything off the phone?” she asked, continuing her scan of the house and the line-of-sight from the street.
“Let me call Elena and find out.” Brant hit a button on his phone. The ringtone was loud in the vehicle until it ended abruptly when the computer expert picked up. “It’s Brant. What did you get from the phone?”
“Nothing really.” Her voice sounded dejected over the line and Olivia bit back her groan of frustration in order to listen clearly. “It’s practically a burner. A few numbers, no texts. I’m trying to get into his cloud content or his hard drive backup, but we didn’t do the cyber security for him. It was set up by a local guy who specializes in server maintenance for politicos. I need a few hours.”
Hours they didn’t have.
Olivia watched as the metal gate eased back and a black Audi left the property. The windows were blackened sufficiently that she couldn’t see anything but shadows. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes since they’d left.
“Elena, I presume it would be easier if you had the physical hard drive in your possession?” she asked, formulating her plan in her mind.
“Yes, or a download of the data.”
“I’m going in to get the hard drive,” Oliva said, unfastening her seatbelt and reaching for her purse. She opened it, pulling out the tiny tool kit she’d stashed inside what looked like a cosmetic case and slipping it into the pocket of her shorts. “Brant, what kind of alarm system did you install?”
“Our own design. Wired at the windows, doors, video cameras in every room with motion sensors, external cameras as well.”
“You control the monitoring?”
“Yes, but there are people still in the house, so everything will be off except for the door and window contacts. He has round-the-clock security who function as bodyguards and accompany him and his family to events, and there is one always walking the grounds,” Brant said.
“Avoiding people is way easier than a set of electronic eyeballs. You alert me to anyone new who enters the house.”
“You’re not going in there in broad daylight,” Atticus growled, shifting to turn full around in his seat to glare at her. “That’s insane.”
She ignored him. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind and she needed more information. “How many guards in the house and the grounds right now?” Brant flicked a glance between Atticus and her and the low boil of anger in her belly threatened to spill over. “Even when we were married I never promised to obey. You dragged me away from my Mexican paradise to do a job, now let me do it. The last I heard we didn’t have time to waste.”
Brant sighed, rubbing his face with his palm, the rasp against the stubble loud in the confines of the vehicle. “One guard on the grounds all day. Two inside but he takes one with him when he leaves, so I’m guessing there’s only one now. His wife is home and I think he mentioned a nurse with her.”
Elena’s voice rang out in the car. “Thermal scan shows me a guard on the grounds and three people in the house.”
“Thanks, Elena. I owe you a drink,” Olivia said.
“Livvy, this is nuts. You can’t go in there with no knowledge of the floor plan or the guards’ movements,” Atticus argued, his tone dark and bossy. His anger was a palpable thing hovering in the air, but there was more and it felt to her like fear.
She scrutinized his face and saw it…he was scared for her. She pushed back the automatic urge to soothe and comfort him. He’d never allowed it when they were married and it wouldn’t go over now.
“Does anyone is this car think he’s going to tell us anything useful? Does anyone else think he’d let his daughter die or worse to save his ass?” She looked at both of the men, daring them to contradict her. “I’m not debating this. I’ve gone in on jobs with less time and information. I’m going.” She popped in the earbud he had given her earlier. “You can monitor my movements and alert me to any changes.”
“Fuck!” Atticus practically shouting and quickly undoing his seatbelt was the last thing she heard as she darted from the SUV and crossed the street, one dwelling down from the Hickman house. She blended into the falling shadows of the wall, scanning the neighborhood to see if anyone was actually out on the street. Nobody. Good.
“Are you going to break in to their house wearing those goddam heels?” Atticus asked, his voice beyond frustrated in her ear.
“I can do all kinds of things in these heels. You know this,” she teased, inching down to a place where the brick wall sloped down to half the original height. She hiked her leg over and slid down onto the ground.
“I totally see why you married her,” Brant said in her ear.
Atticus’s reply was a dark and broody “Shut up.”
She ignored them both and scanned the twilight-infused area. “Can you give me an idea of where the outdoor guard is located?”
Silence passed for a few moments and then Elena’s voice joined the others in her head. “Heat scan shows that he’s in the northwest corner. Near the garage.”
The opposite place from where she was now. She could work with that.
“Excellent, I’ll go through the sunroom.”
“I just deactivated the alarm,” Elena said. “No alarms will sound when you open an external door or window. I can’t turn off anything that we didn’t create and install, so keep an eye out for random security measures.”
“Thanks, Elena.” She took a deep breath and steadied her hands. They were shaking with the adrenaline from her excitement. She loved this, loved getting into places she didn’t belong.
Olivia bolted across the lawn, sliding into the gloom as soon as she could. The sunroom door was easy, the lock in the doorknob and the deadbolt giving way under the skill of her fingers and tools. She slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind her, standing perfectly still as she listened for sounds of the staff.
Footsteps above, directly overhead. The rush of water and then the steps again, crossing the room.
“Is the master bedroom on the back of the house?” she whispered, hoping they could still hear her.
“Yes. Across the entire back above where you are,” Elena answered. “The private office is the second door on the right as you exit the sunroom.”
“Thanks.” Olivia crept across the room, keeping to the edges as much as she could until she got to the door. Another pause as she listened. Footsteps overhead. Nothing on this floor that she could hear. “Better now than never.”
Swift, sure movement down the hall. One door. Stopping at the second and pausing to press her ear against the heavy wood. Nothing that she could hear from the office but Atticus almost made her jump.
“What the fuck is going on in there? Livvy, talk to me.”
She bit her lip and focused on easing the door open and getting her ass out of the hallway where anyone could find her. She shut
the door behind her and quickly scanned the room before answering him.
“Atticus, please shut up. I’m trying to work and your squawking in my ear is not bloody helping.”
“I’m not trying to help. You need to get your sweet ass out of there.”
“This is not the time for you and I to discuss how sweet my ass is. Just shut up and let me steal a hard drive and get out of here.”
“Livvy,” he said, his belligerent tone grating on every last nerve she had.
“I’m taking out my earbud,” she said and pried the small piece out of her ear and put it in her pocket. The silence was a beautiful thing. Now, to get down to business.
She walked over to the spotless desk and groaned. All-in-one monitors and CPUs were a bitch to carry.
“Come on, where’s your backup?” It had to be smaller, easier to carry and conceal just in case she got caught leaving the house.
She kneeled down, pulling open drawers and doors on the large wooden desk. So many of them were locked but one slid open, a panel covering a deep, ventilated space. Wires fed through the side and there, sitting in the middle on a cradle-type stand, was a hard drive. As big as a hardcover book, it would be easy to move.
“Bingo.” She laughed softly, pulled the cables and wires from the back of it and removed it from the space and carefully closed the door. She fished into her pocket and popped the earbud back in. “I’ve got it and I’m heading out.”
“Goddam it, Livvy,” Atticus’s voice immediately filled the space, tinged with enough worry to make her feel a little guilty. Just a little bit. “Get the hell out of there. Hickman came back.”
She froze. That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.
“Oh fuck,” she breathed out, making her way across the room and stopping to listen at the door. Brant had joined Atticus in her ear with his insistence that she get out of the house as soon as possible. Her heart was pounding and it was hard enough to concentrate without their noise. “I can’t think with you two in my head. I’ll see you outside.”
Rush: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) Page 3