Isadora went to the front door. Opening it and stepping inside, she heard her parents talking in their bedroom in low, urgent tones. Putting her backpack down, she walked down the hall and would have gone into her bedroom if not for what she heard her mom say.
“Go to the police, Sajal.”
What were they talking about? Was it the reason her dad was home so early?
“No, Maeve. You shouldn’t have called them this morning.”
“What was I supposed to do? You didn’t come home last night.”
“Archer Latoya is a detective. I can’t go to the police, and I can’t stay here and put you in danger.”
Isadora moved to the edge of the bedroom door.
“But you said the chief of police was questioning Archer. That means he’s suspicious. You could go talk to him.” Her mom sounded afraid. What had happened?
“I need a little time,” her dad said. “Please. I have to do this.”
“If you disappear, you may never be able to come back. I might never see you again.”
What did her mother mean? Was her dad going away? Why? Was he in trouble?
“I will. I promise. I will find a way.”
“Sajal. I’m frightened.”
“If I’m not here, you’ll be safe. Nothing in this world is more important to me than you and the kids. I need to know you’re all safe.”
“How do you know that by staying away from us we’ll be safe?”
“Tristan will think I’m running scared. It’s me he’s after, not you or the kids. He’ll be looking for me. I don’t want him to look here.”
Why did her father think they’d be in that much danger? Her mother was afraid. She could hear it in her voice. That scared Isadora, too.
“Don’t be afraid,” her dad said. “I’ll take care of this. You’ll see.”
“Promise me you’ll be okay.”
“Nothing will keep me away from you and our kids. You’re my life. I’ll do anything to keep us together.”
“I believe you.”
Isadora heard her parents embrace and kiss.
“You’re a good and honest man, Sajal. I’m so happy to be your wife.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Nothing like this had ever happened to them. Her dad was talking about going away to keep them safe...from what?
Chapter 8
Pasquale Manco lived in a Newport Bay Towers penthouse that overlooked the Balboa Peninsula. Standing in the elevator, Lincoln had his gun ready, tucked out of sight in the back waistband of his jeans and covered by the hem of his short-sleeved charcoal-colored ripstop camp shirt. After the night before last, he’d vowed to enforce rigid control over his physical reaction to her.
She’d been quiet and withdrawn ever since. They’d spent yesterday avoiding each other, a challenge in a small RV. But they’d given each other space. He needed time to sort out his feelings. The last time a kiss had felt like that, he’d been in love and Miranda had been alive. That was what had pulled his mood down. After the shower he’d taken to cool his desire, he’d been unable to stop ruminating over her. It was always painful thinking of her, but last night had been one of the worst, as fresh as the days following her death. Not being able to go back and change history always tortured him, wondering what might have been had they not been in New York that day.
Having a strange woman do what Miranda had done to him unsettled him. He still couldn’t explain why. He wouldn’t turn love away if it ever came his way again, but the possibility of it with Sabrina didn’t jibe. Was it her secrets?
No, it was the way she made him think about Miranda, the way she made him feel the same as he had back then. Except now he wondered if these feelings that drove him out of control were stronger than they had been back then. Was that why he felt so down thinking about Miranda? Did he feel guilty?
Sabrina bumped into him as he stepped off the elevator and into the hall, one of her soft breasts pressed against his arm.
“Sorry.” She seemed and sounded awkward.
He ignored it as he found the apartment. He had his own fair share of disconcertment regarding this chemistry that had sparked out of nowhere, from seeing her for the first time, to kissing her, and then the other night. He didn’t think it had been that urgent with Miranda. Yeah, disconcerting. Plenty of time had gone by since her death, but he couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal, that he was doing the betraying.
Sabrina rang the doorbell, and seconds later, Pasquale opened the door. “Are you certain you were not followed?” he asked, his voice colored by a soft accent.
“Yes,” Lincoln said.
Peering into the hallway in both directions, he invited them in and shut the door.
Inside the spacious penthouse, Lincoln followed Sabrina past a wide hallway with three white doors and a desk on one side. Dark blue and off-white mosaic rugs covered a white slate floor in the living room and dining area. Tan and dark blue sofas and chairs sat before a fireplace with a seventy-five-inch television mounted above. Adjacent to the dining area was a kitchen with mahogany cabinets and gold granite countertops. Straight ahead, patio doors offered a view of the bay and dock filled with sailboats and yachts. The balcony looked to run the length of the penthouse. Despite the small space, the price tag of a place like this was probably around two million. His vice president salary at OneDefense must be impressive. He was in sales, so maybe he worked on commission, as well.
Between the living room and dining area, Pasquale faced them and said to Sabrina, “Tristan does not know that Kirby and I were friends.”
If he did, what would he do? If he found out Lincoln and Sabrina had come to see him, he’d take an interest, that was for sure.
“We won’t tell anyone we were here today,” Sabrina assured him.
“I would not have given Bonnie my card if I wasn’t sure about doing this,” he responded. “But, thank you.”
Lincoln walked over to the patio window and peered outside while he waited for Pasquale to start talking. The dock below was quiet. Not many were out at this time of morning. He saw no one suspicious.
“Kirby told me he was beginning to worry about Tristan,” he said. “He said Tristan was becoming aggressive in his work, targeting deals that were questionable. He was always operating beyond his title, manager of customer accounts, but behaving more like Kirby’s equal. In fact, Kirby had to put him in his place on several occasions. Tristan spoke out of turn and made business decisions on certain deals without consulting the executive staff.”
Lincoln turned, wondering how much Kirby had told him of Tristan’s deals.
“Kirby told me much of Tristan’s unruliness, but I could see that there was something he was not saying.” Pasquale paused to gather his emotions. “It was three days later that he was killed, and police began looking for you.” He looked at Sabrina as he said the last.
He’d obviously not believed Sabrina had killed Kirby or he would never have given Bonnie his card to try to reach out to her. Kirby hadn’t trusted Tristan, so neither did Pasquale. But Kirby hadn’t told him about the illegal gun sales.
“Kirby must have known something. I also believe you know what that something is,” he said to Sabrina.
“I was beginning to discover that when Wade Nelson was killed,” she answered.
“The Denver store manager.” Pasquale nodded. “I heard of that. Did you also know that the owner of the Orange County OneDefense store has gone missing?”
Another store manager had gone missing.
Sabrina glanced briefly at Lincoln in shock and then said to Pasquale. “No. We didn’t know that.”
“Cesar Castillo. His wife runs a small market near Muscle Beach,” Pasquale provided, and Lincoln made a mental note of the informatio
n.
“There is also a janitor who was reported missing yesterday. I heard it on the news this morning. Sajal Kapoor cleans the managers’ offices at OneDefense. Tristan’s office.”
“He’s missing, too?” Sabrina asked.
“Appears to be.”
“Do you think he may have discovered something?” Lincoln asked.
“Discovered something. Overheard something. Yes. I believe he has, and I am hoping he is not dead.”
“Have you spoken with his family?” Sabrina asked.
Pasquale shook his head. He fell into silent thought, and Lincoln got the impression that he was about to say something that might be difficult for them to hear. Or maybe just Sabrina, judging by the way he looked at her. “There is someone else who’s gone missing.”
It took Sabrina a few seconds, but then she caught on and snapped, “I know about Kirby’s affair.”
“I’m sorry,” Pasquale said.
Sabrina lifted her hand to stop him.
“He loved her,” Pasquale continued, “but after he met you, that relationship began to change.”
Sabrina lowered her hand, waiting for Pasquale to go on. Lincoln did, too.
“He had been seeing her for five years. She was like a drug he could not stop using. She would promise him she would leave her husband, but she never did. She had young children, you see. A boy and a girl. They are young teenagers now. Tory could not leave because of them. That is what she told Kirby. It made her seem honorable. But Tory Von Every was not an honorable woman. I tried to convince Kirby of this, but his addiction was too severe. Tory enjoyed enticing a man of Kirby’s status. It is my opinion that it was the scandal she craved. Having Kirby and her husband thrilled her. If Kirby was aware of that, he refused to admit it to me. When she wanted him, he obliged her.”
Lincoln watched as Sabrina listened, absorbing it all and on the fence as to which side she leaned. Was she still angry with Kirby for lying about his lover, or offended over how unfeeling that woman had been toward him?
“But you must believe me when I say you were beginning to change that.”
“Kirby and I weren’t seeing each other that way.”
“Not yet,” Pasquale said. “I saw the two of you together. Kirby was going to pursue you. He told me so.”
“Without ending it with Tory?”
“Perhaps not immediately. He could not refuse her. But given time, and the heart of a good woman, that would come naturally. Tory did not have much to offer him when you talk of a future life. You did. Kirby was not a fool. Tory had sex to offer. You had more than that. You had a heart.”
Tension stiffened Sabrina’s body. Lincoln was fascinated to watch her reaction to this revelation. She may claim nothing had been happening between her and Kirby, but she felt something for the man.
“Kirby would have wanted you to know the truth,” Pasquale said.
That had been the main reason Pasquale had sought her out. For his friend. To make sure the woman he was growing to love knew the truth.
Sabrina turned away, obviously struggling to process what Pasquale had said. Sex drew certain men away from the women they loved. Would sex have continued to draw Kirby away from Sabrina? Lincoln sensed her wondering that.
“What do all of those people know about Tristan?” she finally asked.
Assuming Tristan was behind the murders and the missing people. And Lincoln never assumed anything. Not until he had all the facts.
“He’s selling guns illegally through the stores,” Lincoln said.
Pasquale didn’t appear surprised. “I suspected as much. Tory, the janitor and the two store managers must have discovered his activities.”
“Or refused to do as he demanded,” Sabrina put in.
“It’s not enough,” Lincoln said. “Selling a few guns on the street is illegal and he could go to jail for it, but to kill to keep from having to quit?”
“He must be branching out to other sales,” Sabrina said.
Bigger sales. The missing inventory Sabrina had found was good evidence, but there was more. What kind of clients did he have?
“That’s what worries me,” Pasquale said. “Kirby must have discovered his activities.”
“He may have been in on them.” Sabrina told him everything they knew, including what she’d heard Kirby and Tristan talking about that day in Kirby’s office, and Tristan catching her listening.
“I don’t believe it,” Pasquale said. “Kirby would have never done something like that.”
“Maybe he was trying to stop Tristan,” Lincoln said.
“He would have told me.”
“Would he have?” Lincoln challenged. “And put you in danger?”
With a sigh, Pasquale lowered his head. “Perhaps not.”
After a moment, Lincoln moved to Sabrina and took her hand. “We shouldn’t stay any longer.” He looked at Pasquale, who nodded his agreement.
“If I hear anything more, I’ll contact you,” Pasquale said.
“Thank you,” Sabrina said, and turned with Lincoln’s guidance.
When they were outside and out of hearing range from Pasquale, Lincoln decided to try to get her to open up.
“Were you working with Kirby to expose Tristan?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t know what Tristan was up to until that day I heard them talking.”
He believed her. She may not tell him anything about her relationship with Kirby, but she hadn’t known Tristan was dirty when she’d taken the job at OneDefense. If she hadn’t been after Tristan for his illegal gun operation, what had she been doing? What other reason could she have had to get involved? He didn’t want her around when he found out. Whatever she was hiding, she’d do everything she could to keep it from him. At least, that was his hunch. And any secret was no good in Lincoln’s opinion.
They reached the street and started walking toward the new white Cadillac CTS-V rental Lincoln had arranged with one of his special passports.
He’d get answers to all of his questions. And he’d start with the lead detective of Kirby’s murder case. But first he had to make sure Sabrina stayed put for an hour or two.
* * *
Back at the RV, Lincoln waited until Sabrina was settled in for the night. Right now she was in the bathroom washing her face. He’d just finished on his computer and had received the email he’d been waiting for. He’d asked a friend from the Denver police department to help him dig up information on the Kirby Clark murder case, someone who’d keep his digging secret. He’d come through with a contact who was willing to talk to Lincoln.
Sabrina appeared in the narrow hall in a two-piece black-and-white pajama set, ready to climb into bed. Hair in a ponytail, she had him fighting an urge to grab hold of it and do something naughty with her. Sitting at the kitchen table, he watched her glance his way before leaving the bathroom and going into the bedroom in the back of the RV. He’d occupied the pullout couch last night, and would do the same tonight—after he finished with the detective. But first he had to be sure Sabrina wouldn’t try to follow him.
Hearing her climb onto the bed, he stood and went to his duffel bag. Finding the spare pistol he kept in there, he made his way down the hall. Keeping Sabrina safe was his top priority, but he couldn’t take her with him, and he couldn’t risk her following.
Leaving her here was tougher than he thought, though. The idea of something happening to her, of her getting hurt, or worse, agitated him. Moreover, why that agitated him troubled him.
In the doorway of the small room, he saw her notice he was fully dressed. She held a book in her hands and lowered it to her lap, angling her head in curiosity.
“Going somewhere?” she asked. Then she saw the gun in his left hand. “What are you doing with that?” Her finger pointed to the gun at h
is side.
He went to the bed and sat down, resting his pistol on his thigh.
“You’re acting strange,” she said.
Was he? Was his worry showing? That was so uncharacteristic of him. “I have to leave for a while.”
“Leave? Now?” She looked down at the gun. “Where are you going at this hour?” It was after ten o’clock.
“I’m going to talk to an officer about Kirby’s murder case.” For obvious reasons, she could not go with him. At least he hoped she’d see it that way. “I need you to stay here.”
Seeing her register who he was going to meet, he thought she’d agree. But then she set the book aside and threw the covers off her. “I’ll go with you.”
He stopped her with his hand around her wrist. “No.”
“No?” She began to catch on that there was more to this than she suspected. “You can take me with you. I can wait in the car.”
He shook his head and repeated, “I need you to stay here.”
“Why? The officer doesn’t need to know I’m in the car.”
“He might see you.” Surely she saw the possibility of that. Besides that, he planned on breaking into the house afterward. Things might get dicey.
Turning her wrist, he put the gun on her palm. She took hold of it and he let go of her.
Now he’d have to go. Leave her. She’d be alone, vulnerable to Tristan. Too many people had gone missing or been killed already. If Sabrina were the next victim...
“Why are you acting so strange?” Sabrina asked.
Lincoln berated himself for letting his anxiety get the best of him. “How am I acting strange?”
Her gaze roamed over his face, down his torso and back up again. “You’re...tense, and...secretive.”
He’d have to watch that. “Stay here, Sabrina.”
He attempted to stand, but she took hold of his wrist and stopped him. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing yet.”
The confusion cleared from her face. “You’re afraid of what you might find out from the detective.”
Armed and Famous Page 11